Anne Smith :: Blog for October 2010


Hello, Everybody! I’m right on time, as usual! How can I have taken a year away from teaching so I could spend more time on my personal projects, and still be falling behind? I’ve been visiting family in upstate New York, which is gorgeous in October. Marc and I discovered a fantastic Bed & Breakfast, Union Gables, just above the downtown area. In addition, I am making arrangements to begin recording my CD, titled, “Say Something” at LoFish Recording Studio.(Could I have been inspired by the NYC Subway Campaign for Homeland Security?). Marc and I are also beginning a rather involved renovation project in the kitchen and bath of our apartment. I’m teaching a 2-hour class for adult teachers one day a week, and I’m sending queries to literary agents to find representation for my children’s’ story. If I were a rich girl, I would hire a personal assistant. I really really would. I think I’ll take the obvious topic for this month: Satan’s Birthday, I mean, Halloween.

Aside from my intense enjoyment of the sensuous and seasonal candy corns (I can’t stop eating them, once I start), I have no interest whatsoever in dressing in a costume, answering my door all night for wired-up children in costumes, or going to The Halloween Parade in The Village. In fact, several years ago, while living in Massachusetts, I used to fill a large ceramic mixing bowl with broccoli crowns to offer the Trick-or Treaters who made it the quarter of a mile all the way up my driveway. Now THAT was funny. Of course, once they started crying (much to my pleasure), I would grudgingly offer an alternative candy bar or home made chocolate chip cookie. Kidding….about the crying part….but just let me complain a little bit more, okay? I am channeling Andy Rooney, the blustery ol’ curmudgeon with the long fingernails (I happen to agree with him most of the time, but for God’s sake, he should invest in a nice manicure; the dude’s got paws like a badger).

There are no less than 20 Halloween figures in the lobby of my building. They shriek, groan, howl, light up, wave butcher knives, float around on wires and gaze piteously up at you from the glass jar in which they are pickled. They are activated by motion. That’s why everyone who lives here likes to stomp, clap, scream and wave at them on their way in and out of the building. It looks like a freaking haunted miniature golf course and the noise it generates is beyond disturbing. We live on the second floor and the sound travels quite well to us. A parent of one of my students told me that in their building on Park Avenue, the kids don’t even have to knock on the door. The residents just leave a bowl of candy sitting outside the door. What’s with that? My dentist hates Halloween, because he told me that people bring in their leftover Halloween candy to leave in his office. He asked me incredulously, “Why would they think that I would want a big jar of candy at my reception desk?”

I just took a glance through my planner, and noticed the sheer number of holidays that have been commercialized throughout the year; I mean, do we really, really pay tribute to Abraham Lincoln the man, or are we more about President’s Day Sales? Here’s the good news: I didn’t notice any commercial holidays in August! Shhh. Sooner or later, someone will notice. And Bloomingdales will be ready for them.

Well, for those of you who adore this whole business, be safe, have fun-and save some candy corns for me! Gotta go…my broom is double parked at a fire hydrant…..

Until next time xoxoAnnie