Halloween Candy

"I don't recall Superman wearing a jacket?!"

Christmas of 1998 I gave my dad the Jerry Seinfeld CD, "I'm Telling You for the Last Time." I don't know if he ever actually listened to it before my sister and I bogarted it and played it non-stop until we'd memorized absolutely every word. I remember being relegated to the fetal position on the floor of her dorm room (under the loft, right next to the mini-fridge) howling at Jerry's observations. To this day, we regularly speak to one another in a sort of ad lib Seinfeldian vernacular, tossing segments of his routine into our everyday conversation.

One of our very favorite bits is where he talks about trick-or-treating and his relentless pursuit--as a child--of candy. He describes the incredulity a kid experiences when he learns about Halloween, "Who is giving out candy? Everyone we know is just GIVING OUT CANDY?!" He talks about finding the perfect costume. He explains the general Halloween mantra of children: "Get candy, get candy, get candygetcandygetcandy!" I can't do it justice...you should just watch it.

Anyway, my sis and I recite that bit ad nauseam. Probably due to--as Mr. Seinfeld phrases it--our "candy moron idiot brains."

Buyer's remorse in a bag

Speaking of morons, Jay and I went to Target today. And in spite of my best efforts, we found ourselves in the middle of the seasonal Halloween display. More specifically, in the candy aisles. Seriously. Is there anything more beautiful (in a fun-sized, corn-syrupy, capitalistic sort of way) than rows and rows of shelves and shelves of bags and bags of Halloween candy?

I don't know if it's the sugary scents or the riotous colors peeking out of the plastic--maybe it's just the promise of a wild assortment of treats--but I am instantly rendered idiotic in the candy aisle. I walk in front of the cart, dropping bag after bag into the basket. Jay quietly takes them out and puts them back on the shelf as I'm searching for the next one. Sometimes I just wander off on my own, eventually finding my way back to the cart, arms stacked high with packages. Jay will tip his head to the side and say "Emmy. Really. Let's just get one." And then I pretend-pout and bargain, "How about two?"

It's important that I mention...we live in an apartment. I'm not worried about generosity toward costumed kiddos at the end of October. I'm worried about me. Me. And my love of candy. Today. In September.

We made it out of the store relatively unscathed today...a bag for home and a bag for the office. But not without a way-more-serious-than-it-should-have-been conversation about which assortment containing Milk Duds was coming home with us. It took us 3 full minutes to choose between the Milk Duds/Kit Kats/Whoppers mix and the Milk Duds/Reeses Pieces/Whoppers/Jolly Rancher Lolly Pops mix. You would have thought we were picking a retirement account or adopting a dog.

Candy moron idiot brains, indeed.

Staying Home

We were supposed to have wall-to-wall plans this weekend. Friday night dinner and a movie with dear friends...and then the Gopher game on Saturday afternoon with some other completely awesome folks...and then hangin' with my Befri on Saturday night. It was gonna be like 24+ hours jam-packed with socializing and fun...

...followed by a Sunday likely filled to the brim with laundry and grocery shopping and cooking and tidying and dissertation edits and all the other things that grown-ups are supposed to do to make life proceed in some sort of orderly fashion.

I just started watching Mad Men, so I appreciate Ann Taintor on a whole new level now...

And though I was totally looking forward to spending time with all these folks we love so much and doing all sorts of great things, I was also getting a little stressed out by the thought of not very much "at-home-acting-like-an-idiot" time.

Is that wrong?

As luck would have it, between Thursday afternoon and Friday morning, the plans came crashing down around us like a house of cards. People were double-booked and demoing their bathrooms and cleaning out boats and studying for tests. The busy weekend completely imploded.

And I was left with one simple thought:

HOORAY!!!!1!1!!

Here's the thing:

I love staying home. I know I've mentioned this before. But I mean it. A lot.

Like seriously, I'd rather be home than pretty much anywhere else. I love sleeping in. I love not showering until I feel like it Jay makes me. I love getting through the chores and to-do lists at my very own pace. I love sweatpants. I love days with no schedules or "have-to-do-or-else's." I love seeing Jay reading and web-surfing and napping and boppin' about...all at his own leisure. I love weekends with nothing in particular that needs to be accomplished.

I'm not saying that I want to lay on my ass all weekend (though I'm not against it), I just love having wide-open expanses of time to use as the whims ebb and flow. I love feeling rested and productive all at the same time.

I realize that this is a complete luxury. I realize that once we have a house and kids, this will all change dramatically. And that's perfectly fine. I'll be ready for it...then. But for right now, I'm enjoying these occasional decadent weekends of uninterrupted nothingness.

Jay did all the laundry. We made 3 kinds of soup to portion out/freeze for lunches and dinners throughout the week. I got myself addicted to Mad Men. Edits on Chapter 4 of my dissertation are well underway. Naps were taken. Football was watched. Life was lived at a perfect, self-directed pace.

So to all of you who bailed on me this weekend...THANK YOU! Though the gift of time with you would have been lovely, the gift of free time was everything I ever could have wanted...and more!

And it's not even Sunday yet! Woo hoo!