Tipping
An acquaintance at the bagel shop where we have breakfast most mornings mentioned that there’s a port-a-pottie in a cul-de-sac on their street associated with some local construction group. By some miracle, the thing remained standing during Hurricane Ike. However, those of us over a certain age had a pretty good sense that it probably won’t remain standing after tonight. I grew up in an area and a time when people weren’t too many years removed from having outhouses. My grandmother had one until I was at least 10. There were plenty of stories around about Halloween rituals involving tipping outhouses. The most memorable of them involved someone being inside at the time.
Another local ritual from bygone days was cow tipping. Cows, you see, often sleep standing up and they can be knocked over with sufficient determination. I believe people also used to paint pigs. Our tricks were on a smaller scale. Soaping windows, of course, or plastering someone’s garage with political posters for a candidate at odds with the resident’s known allegiance. We also used to have bullrush fights. At this time of year, the bullrushes (aka cat tails) were “ripe” and ready to burst. You could lob them like hand grenades and they would burst into seed similar to what you see no a dandelion, though on a larger scale.
Halloween evening seemed to last forever. It got dark very early, so we were out and about by 4 or 5 p.m. and because I lived along the highway, houses were spread out and it took hours to get to as many places as there are on most suburban streets. We probably covered five or six linear miles of highway, which mean we walked 10-12 miles. Part of the fun was having people try to guess who we were, because we knew everyone in every house we visited. My grandmother used to make individual treat bags for all the kids in the neighborhood—each one had the intended recipient’s name on a little strip of paper and instead of the usual fare (chocolate bars and nickle bags of potato chips) we got homemade fudge and rice krispie treats.
I would like to have seen the final negotiation between Sugar and Ace when she told him she wouldn’t give him the immunity idol. We saw a bit of that but, for the sake of suspense probably, they didn’t show us any ensuing conversations. I think they made a reasonable decision, getting rid of him. He was browbeating everyone into doing things his way. As far as the other team’s vote, I think it remains to be seen if it was the right one or not. It looks like there wasn’t total agreement on the outcome after all their discussions.
While C.S.I. was pretty good last night (though the new CSI seems to have lost all of her devilish sense of humor after just one week), the previews for the show that ran all week were misleading overkill. The final scene was supposed to shock us. It didn’t, not in the least.
Life on Mars continues to intrigue. Poor Sam and his mother issues. He’s also pretty gullible—he fell for his rival’s trick when dealing with IAB last week, and he fell for the honey pot this week. I didn’t see the first one coming, but this time it seemed likely she was there to do something to him. It is interesting how his actions with regards to his mother created a scene that he remembers from his youth, so paradox seems to be at play at some level. Maybe Jim Croce will survive after all!
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