Halloween is a wonderful holiday; I absolutely love all the ghoulish festivities, making children work for their candy (this year a coin toss--had to land a coin on dinnerware), and creating my grand-daughter's costume. I tend to be a people watcher, too, more so during this holiday than any other. Some of the costume ideas people come up with are absolutely original and awesome. Other ideas people have, like adults buying some store bought costume, stuffing themselves into it, and then wearing it out in public...OMG!!! What were they thinking!
Being Catholic at heart, and being raised in a Catholic school from the start, I was taught that if you thought something wicked, you have sinned. Oh what a sinner I was in elementary school, and yes I was very consistent. Though I felt much guilt and a touch of shame for all those wicked thoughts, having to go to confession weekly to cleanse my wicked soul, did not deter my evil ways. Why just yesterday, I observed Wonder Woman clutching a bag of candy, only this was an impostor! Wonder Woman was stuffed into her sexy outfit--it was bulging at the seams! Where did her girlish figure go?? This was a ghoulish figure! Was this her intention, after all it is Halloween? I suspect this impostor splurged on too many Krispy Kreams, Duncan Donuts, Big Macs, etc. I wanted to rip the clutched bag of candy from her hands and yell, "No more woman! This must stop!" Immediately after those thoughts crossed my mind, I said to myself, "Oh Marie, you are so going to Hell." I chuckled to myself, because I know I have a fast track ticket to meet Satan, as evidenced by my continued consistent wicked thoughts. What would the nuns at Sacred Heart say if they knew this has continued well into my 40s? Here comes the guilt, that is quickly washed away again by a chuckle, and I just love when I do that and people stare, wondering what I am chuckling at. Currently, my husband sits puzzled by this thought. I need only say three words, and he gets it. "Going to Hell," because of my wicked, wicked ways.
