|Another Scary Perry and things are back to normal
||[Nov. 2nd, 2006|12:43 pm]
Okay, not really. My front window still looks like an underwater scene, there's a sea monster hanging out the bedroom window and the figurehead is going to have to stay above my front door until someone much taller and with better balance than I shows up to take her down. Although already I've had several folks in the neighborhood beg for me to leave her up year round. Well, I don't know that I need some chick with bigger boobs than mine hanging out over my front door. Not to mention, she's borrowed, and she's in need of a paint touch up. It's sort of creepy the way the paint has worn off her nipples.
Thanks to the Pyrates Royale for letting me borrow scads of props to turn my yard into Pirate Central. Let me get the academy award speech out of the way so we can get on with the recap. Thanks also to Craig/Skivee, Shawna and Brad/Moone for helping to develop epitaphs, carve and paint tombstones. They came out cool, huh? As well as carve pumpkins and paint the fish in the "aquarium" window. Put the damn fish down, Craig, it's fine. Back away from the paintbrush and leave it the hell alone! They were also essential to set-up, as were dear Angi, Jim and Buggler-in-plainclothes. And the whole group of folks who showed up to hand out candy and add some theatrics to our street. No doubt I've forgotten someone and yeah, I have NO idea how to do LJ links to those folks and today do NOT have time to learn.
So, anyway...it wasn't easy. It was really, really hard. The newsletters, scheduling the meetings, permits, notifications, corralling volunteers and neighbors, organizing projects, assigning tasks, making props, buying 4000 pieces of candy, not to mention the hours of setting up, working it and the next week of taking it all down and putting it away. For a 3 hour party for 4000 people I don't even know. Okay, I knew about a hundred of them.
Tuesday morning, as I was standing on my roof attaching a severed foot to Mama Vulture's beak, trying not to kick the spotlights (again) and break a bulb, one neighbor asks if she can get me anything from the store. Sure, a normal hobby. Oh, I dunno, something that involves laying around on the couch and reading a book. Something that involves 8 hours of sleep occasionally. Something cheap. Something that produces a result that lasts more than 3 hours. Something that doesn't involve 47 extension cords and 32 spotlights.
I am an idiot.
But still, as much as I piss and moan all day...okay, the weeks leading up to it...it starts to rock and roll and I'm really proud. And people are having fun and happy and...well, I made it happen. It almost kills me, but still, you cross a Dane and a German with some old New England bloodlines and you get someone who just will NOT give up even if it's just to prove a point. That old fashioned trick or treating is alive and well and going to the mall to trick or treat is just heinous.
Plus there's the satisfaction I get from having a neighbor come up and say "Would you happen to have any werewolf hands?" or "My theme is bird flu, what do you have for props that I could use?" and being able to pull out a set of hairy hands and feet, a box full of crows, owls and rubber chickens, plus for the price of a pizza dragoon friends into making a set of bird-themed tombstones. Eyeballs, sure. Fog machine, what size? Skull? Do you want glow in the dark or realistic, human, baby, baboon or puma?
Oh, look, it's cheaper and easier than being addicted to heroin or golf, right? Not necessarily more socially acceptable, okay, I'll give you that...
Anyway, despite trying to avoid publicity, we wound up with the CBS affiliate here for the evening, creating yet another influx of visitors. I was all ready to refuse, since we've had Fox, the Post, the Gazette, MSNBC, and Discovery here in past years and there's something really crazy about needing a flatbed to carry your candy up to the register at Costco. But the reporter was the husband of a friend of mine and he'd just spent the morning successfully pitching the story.
And we KNOW I have trouble saying NO...
At least I've got footage to show to my family who I suspect has no real idea of what Scary Perry really is. Just another quaint little hobby I have where I decorate my house...
Of course, it was all made even weirder by my soon-to-be-ex-husband arriving an hour before Scary Perry went live, home on his R&R from Iraq. Weirder still to go upstairs and see the pirate costume I laid out for him on one side of the bed. And Brad's pirate rig on the other side of the bed. I did waste a couple of minutes musing whether it would be funny if I laid out my costume in the middle. Or should I swing by my STBX-husband's girlfriend's place so that I could put hers on the bed too.
And people wonder why I drink...
Anyhow, it's all over, but for the eternal putting away and the candy wrappers that will continue to rise up out of the leaf piles for the next couple of weeks.
I'd say that finally things are back to normal...but I guess I am giving a neighborhood party tomorrow for the STBX-husband so he can get together with the neighbors, another party Saturday night -- in regular clothes, what will that be like? Then I've got chef meetings on Sunday, double-booked clients all week, then off to Carolina to work with the Hounds, down to Florida for some R&R myself, a pirate festival the next weekend...Thanksgiving...auditions for Virginia...I suppose it's better this way. If things slowed down, I might get used to it.