Happy Halloween! (I Mean It)

Yes, this is me. No glasses. Fake-singing into my hairbrush in a bathroom self-portrait. Why? Because I'm Hannah Montana today! Happy Halloween, blogville! FYI...that's a tank top, not my underwear, and also, NOT my real hair. I am cutting some bangs into that wig when I get home for authenticity.

I still need to obtain a teenybopper-y shirt and a scarf. I have skinny jeans and either boots or Chuck Taylors, depending on my mood. I promise more pictures after I go to my party tonight. My indie-rock friends will certainly laugh, and I know some people won't get it at all. I had also considered being Sarah Palin, but I decided I didn't want to spend any money on a suit that's more prim and matronly than I would ever want to wear again.

Plus, being named Hannah, I get called Hannah Montana pretty frequently. It used to be Hannah Banana all the time. I do wish that would make a comeback...

It's Friday. I am the only one in the office, and severely lacking motivation. It seems like a good day to clean stuff here. That way when my boss comes back in on Monday, she will be impressed. Instead, I am blogging and waiting for coffee to kick in.

NaBloPoMo starts on Saturday, and I'm excited to bring you an entire month full of blogs. Who's with me?

It's Halloween. Oddly today, my thoughts are not about the outrage I feel for diabetic kids whose parents won't even let them near candy, or stereotypes about people with diabetes and sugar, but of my dad. The past couple of weeks have brought me to tears at random moments--discovering a pic of him on Matt's computer that we snapped when we were trying out our new camera at Christmas last year, getting a copy of his will in the mail--but I realize so many of my Halloween memories come back to my dad. Dad liked to dress up at Halloween. One year he even greeted trick-or-treaters at the door in drag. It was this awful purple taffeta bridesmaid dress my mom was supposed to wear to her friend's wedding. However, the dress was hideous and HUGE, and thankfully Mom's friend admitted it was not her best sewing work, so Mom bought a different dress from a catalog.

Anyway, Mom helped dad with this monstrosity of a dress, did his makeup, and tied up some pillows to make him a huge ass and boobs. I think he greeted people Mrs. Doubtfire-style: "Helloooooooo!" Priceless.

My dad cut out and painted Halloween decorations for the front yard: ghosts rising out of the ground, a tombstone, the grim reaper. We had the sharpest-dressed Halloween house on the block. When I went trick-or-treating, he'd call it "Halloweening". He was often the one to take me out. It all made me realize how much I miss him.

Oh...the best thing about Halloween when I was a kid? The neighbors my parents were closest to all knew I had diabetes, so they would prepare special treats for me: apples, Halloween pencils, stickers, toys. If your kid is growing up in this day and age, be grateful. When I was little, there was no mention of bolusing for any candy I'd eat. I'd have to sneak some into my coat pocket outside, then sneak it into my bedroom and hide it next to the bed.

Let your kids live a little. If there's 15 carb grams' worth of chocolate that they want to eat, just make sure they bolus.

Have a happy and safe Halloween!