Halloween was fun. I decided to be Medusa in the beginning of September, and realized my head piece would need to be handcrafted with snake eyes that light up. My costume took me a total of 80 hours, which included frequent trips to Pearl Art, intermittent consultations with the scintillating staff of Radio Shack, and several Saturday nights up to my elbows in paper mache, crying into the paste.
There were also many hours invested in the conversion of the front porch and yard into a graveyard, with the assistance of the ever-clever Ruby, who wrote the epigraphs for the gravestones, with inscriptions such as "Oscar Wilde: My middle name was "Fingal" and knickers made me tingle."
I also had to learn how to dance with a dozen snakes on my head.
Ruby, Shelley, and me. (That's Shelley's real hair. True story.)
Mon Frere and my nemesis -- Perceus. Who had to remind me that he's my nemesis because it's been a while since I saw Clash of the Titans and I'm not really up on my Greek mythology.
Benjamin won an award for his costume as Jacques Cousteau. Even though he cheated at apple bobbing. You know -- the whole snorkel thing.
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