That Time of Year

Halloween.  Again.

I have resolved to stop fighting Colorado Springs on the issue of their trick-or-treating madness.  That is, instead of kids going out while the sun is shining, kids wait until nightfall when it is a LOT colder than it had been just 3 hours earlier.

By "stop fighting," I mean that I made no attempt to make costumes for the kids.  No attempt to mold an idea they may have had with my own ingenuity to create something both original and suitable for the temperature.  I said, simply, "Kids, today we're going to the Good Will to find your costumes!"

And there we found them.  Both warm.  Both cute (enough).  Both pleasing to Gemma and Joshua.  When they put them on tonight, the fate of Ponce Halloween will be sealed: This holiday is not about the creativity after all.  It's about the candy. 

It looks to be a warm (enough) night, though.  Probably in the low 50's.  Our cul-de-sac will get together around our fire pit and hand out our candy from our lawn chairs there.  As a new addition to our autumn celebration, we'll also serve hot apple cider to the parents passing by as well as ginger snaps, cheese ball with crackers and caramel apple slices.  I'm actually looking forward to the whole thing! 

This is all for now.  Tomorrow is the other "that time of year."  Time for a check-up (check-in?) with Dr. Markus.  I left my blood at the lab early in the week. 

(To their great puzzlement: 
"Where is your port?" 
"I had it removed in July.  I called ahead of time to tell you this would be an arm draw. . ."  Long pause.  "Why would you get it removed?"  Long pause on my part. . . 
"Because I'm done with treatment...?..."  Another long pause.
"So, putting it in is easier than keeping it in?" 

Now, genuine confusion on my part.  Why would I have kept it?  Doesn't she know that you have to flush your port every 3 to 4 weeks if you're not actually using it?)

They will scan it, looking for certain markers that will indicate the presence of--or lack of--cancer in a body.  This is the appointment where Dr. Science would say, "You are in remission."

I'll write before going to sleep on Monday with a full report.  I'm sure you all miss hearing about him.  I know I miss seeing him.  I'll tell you all about it tomorrow.