least convincing name ever
I’ve been wondering when my life will slow down enough to sit down and write. Turns out it’s right now, while I’m wallowing in the end of a sick day. Mason is here with me, off ill as well. This is the first time I’ve ever had a co-ed sick day, which is just like a regular sick day but much less lonely. We slept until 2 pm, and only got out of bed because there was no food in the house and a genuinely evil smell in the refrigerator. He’s making chili right now like the angel he is while I wallow in Zombie Walk pictures.
I was there on Sunday, shuffling by myself, if you can say that when you're marauding along with three thousand other "undead enthusiasts." My concept was "zombie soccer mom" which may have been too subtle, especially since I came too late for the free blood and had to resort to smearing my face in the bloody handprint on a restaurant window as we passed. Freaking out casual diners? Check. I think that was my favourite moment.
I also enjoyed swarming the streetcars ("trains…trains…") and looking at all the other high concept zombies. After seeing the Ronald McDonald, I definitely have to pick up my game for next year. Even bringing Blake won't be unusual, considering all of the kids I saw in full makeup.
A fabulous time. I just wish I had a picture of my own minimalist costume to show off.
A conversation in the morning. I am in the bathroom, Blake is in my bedroom. In the mirror I see suspicious activity.
me: You better not be getting into your clothes basket. It could fall off the bed.
blake: I'm not.
me: Then why do I see a little brown head in the basket?
blake: That's some other boy.
me: What's this other boy's name?
blake: (long pause that's not at all suspicious) Cranberry Juice.
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Don't make me send out the Blake. He doesn't listen to *anyone.*