Not sure how this guy fits into Halloween, but I like him (and his pride-mates) a lot better than the flamingos across the street.
This house has no need of decorations, because c’mon, it looks haunted without trying.
But, stop. Stop and behold Cavity Cove. Many, many people — including drivers — paused to admire the dedication and artistry. I was not the only person taking photos.
The story I heard is that the current owners of the house inherited the tradition of, and decorations for, Cavity Cove from the previous owner, a dentist. They’ve continued to expand the tradition.
And while Cavity Cove is my favorite by far, a special shout out for this unique Halloween offering. I wonder if you need to be in costume to join in the fun.
The bat’s wings wouldn’t stop flapping in the wind.
The other side says “6pm until they’re gone!”
Whether you’re trick-or-treating, handing out candy, or hiding in the back of the house with the lights out, I hope you have a very happy Halloween.
Fairly simple, but way better than spider webs:
I have come to learn that some Petalumans really celebrate and decorate for Halloween. Today, I wandered around like a creepy neighbor taking pictures of people’s homes. (I can’t be the only one.)
First, My favorite Victorian in Petaluma, with its own hanging mummy:
And a close-up:
Another house went all-out with their theme. I can’t help but wonder if it changes every year:
There’s engineering involved in them there pumpkin heads — at least the ones standing up.
The reclining ones may be a little easier.
But the most frightening part of CampScare? Look closely at the Grill Master — he’s cooking up his own kin. What kind of cannibalistic barbecue is this? And why is he so gleeful about it?
Saving the best for actual Halloween. See you tomorrow!
I’m all for Halloween decor, but this? Not so much.
What spider spins purple?
It’s better with some Photoshopping — a little more creepy old house and a bit less purple. Even still, those spider webs are my least favorite Halloween decorations (especially without a single spider in sight).
Better. But the best is yet to come.
On a recent overnight visit to a friend’s, I forgot toothpaste. She said, “There’s a tube in the vanity,” so I pulled it out and commenced brushing. A few seconds later, I nearly gagged on a mouth full of berry-bubblegum suds. Beggars can’t be choosers, I know, but I spit it out and asked for grown-up toothpaste.
If you ever need proof that taste change as you get older, just try kids’ Crest. Or think back to all the things you hated as a kid. I hated cheese. I couldn’t stand scrambled eggs unless they were cooked to death. I couldn’t understand why grownups drank nasty-smelling, fiery-tasting alcohol.
Even though palates evolve, we often crave pieces of our childhood, whether cookies, mac ‘n’ cheese, or a favorite book or movie. I LOVED The Chronicles of Narnia as a child. A world of talking animals and children turned royalty – I loved it all. I’ve been meaning to re-read them. But part of me is afraid: afraid the magic that transported me as a pre-teen will seem pathetic and dingy; afraid the allegory will be too heavy-handed; afraid it will be as dissatisfying as eating a bowl of multi-colored sugar bombs for breakfast.
Should I keep Narnia safely ensconced in my memory? Or should I dust off the book and get to reading?
Curiosity is going to kill this cat. Will it kill Aslan, too?
Says right there: a story for children. Do I dare?