My sister recently posted about my Dad’s annual Halloween decorations. Basically, he makes the front yard into a graveyard complete with headstones, fresh graves with body parts, and scary, life-sized dummies/statues. It is a tradition I have whole-heartedly supported and even been quite proud of.
Our Dad even used to get dressed up in a new costume he bought each year. It was not uncommon to send some children home crying, or for them to be too afraid to even walk up the driveway – that’s right: they would start crying without even setting foot on the property. Good job, Dad.
But I must say I was pretty surprised when I saw the pictures my Sis posted on Flickr. Judging from the pictures, the number of decorations has grown over the years – a product, no doubt, of the neighbors’ rising expectations. But I believe the scariness factor has risen, as well. Yikes!
I hope no children were permanently scarred this year.
Been listening to this one a lot, pretty much the whole way through.
This novel was published after the Chilean-Mexican author's death, and I'm not even sure if it was entirely finished or not. It is broken up into five parts which, while connected, stand pretty much on there own. I have not yet made it to the grim part about the murders of hundreds of women in Mexico, so I have so far found it enjoyable and even funny despite some dark underpinnings. It's had a ton of critical praise, and I like it much more than my last foray into the violent novel genre: Blood Meridian.
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I took those pictures not on Halloween, but the following weekend, by the way. Lauren asked mom to leave them up so they could see. Needless to say, mom was very embarrassed.