What a Wonky Way to Celebrate Halloween

 You know me...I'm not one to complain...but Great Scott and Gadzooks! The blame for this brou-ha-ha lay squarely on the soon-to-be-bursting belly of none other than Violet Beauregarde herself, my 4th grade teammate, Marissa. I must profess a minuscule amount of admiration that she beat me to the punch...we had barely had time to put our Elvis wigs in storage (or in Roxanne's case...the bonfire)  last Halloween before she sweetly presented us with her idea.  Unlike me, who bullies, tantrums, and manipulates to get people to reluctantly agree to my plans, all Marissa has to do is bat her big bovine eyes at us and, boom! We're on board Willy Wonka's traumatizing train. 

I won't lie...reading "Charlie
and the Chocolate Factory" in 
character as Willy Wonka
is pretty cool.

4th grade traditionally hosts a Halloween "flash mob" to conclude the annual school costume parade. It has evolved to feature songs based on the group costume of the teachers. "Okay," I mused, "theme music about candy will be easy to find." We've learned to be cautious about lyrics so "Pour Some Sugar on Me" was out. I began my Google journey...or should I say awakening? Maroon 5's "Sugar" was cut after several listenings. I agonized over what seemed like the most obvious choice:  "I Want Candy." It's been featured in cartoons, for goodness sake! In the end, I emerged from the historic rabbit hole with a foot-thumping "No." Turns out, from the 80s on, any song lyric referencing sugar, candy, or anything sweet could be counted on as NOT being children-dancing-in-front-of-an-audience appropriate. I went old-school. The Chordettes, The Archies, The McGuire Sisters, and Sammy Davis Jr helped sneak us past the censures and, for just a bit more fun, "The Gummy Bear Song," was our exit music. 

We worried that our honeys would be bitter about our selections but they threw themselves enthusiastically into the project. The transitions were rapid...arm movements were swift...circles, stirring, swirling, sign language...foot work varied from song-to-song. "Point to the person who is going to screw up the most," I bellowed to eighty-five 4th graders who were practicing in front of the mirrors on the upstairs track. Perfectly in sync and still in step, eighty-five fingers flawlessly pointed at me. "And point to the girl who will STILL keep dancing," I yelled. Their fingers never wavered. "You are the pride of the 4th grade," I boomed (as my co-workers fought to keep straight faces as they mimed rainbows over their heads in a slow, full-body, spin), "You will be representing your class, your grade, your school and your families! Smile! Spin! Frost the cake!" Shoulders weary from the responsibility of representing their class, grade, school, and families, eighty-five 4th graders smiled, spun, and frosted cake. 

Halloween Dance

The dance went off without a hitch. Inflatable costumes add so much more dimension to the experience. Our exit song was designed for a controlled roll-out as, straight-legged and stiff, our performers streamed out of the gym. We didn't factor in our very pregnant, Marissa, positioned in the final line, who determinedly danced during the entire ending.  Fortunately, the only eruption that occurred was a flood of applause from our appreciative audience. 

Halloween aside, 4th grade team had the additional pleasure of co-hosting, with the 1st grade team, the November school assembly also featuring our highlighted character trait of "Responsibility." "I'm having trouble correlating the story with our theme," I admitted. I was beginning to see the book more as an indictment against lazy parenting. But, upon collaboration with our 1st and 4th grade teams, we soon had a creative, child-friendly, viable plan. Oompa Loompas sang specifically-tailored-to-our-school-and-theme video vignettes. My friend, Val, wrestled the Golden Ticket project away from my incompetent hands and turned it into a token that

the kids wanted beyond its prize potential. Katriel, too tired to fight me any more, gave a green light to EVERYTHING. Green screen? Sigh...okay. Songs? Sigh...okay (Then she wrote AND conducted them!). Golden egg? Golden tickets? Magic elevator ride? Fine...fine...sigh, fine. Interactive Wonka Wash? Sigh...oka-...wait...I have to get up at WHAT time to install this contraption? So yeah, poor Katriel crawled slowly across the floor, following a long line of masking tape while Allison and I handed her long strips of white, blue, and purple streamers. Then, early the next morning, before the kids arrived, poor Katriel stood on tippy-toe, balanced precariously, to attach our "Wonka Wash" to the entryway ceiling...essentially setting our students up for failure as we anticipated some of our honeys giving into that irresistible impulse to rip, tear, and destroy so that our pre-taped message about considering consequences would resonate that much more. Unfortunately for us, we didn't anticipate that our school is populated by the most respectful, responsible, safe, and scholarly kids on the planet. Not a single strip of streamer was besmirched. 

November Assembly

So, we survived it. For awhile there, we had our doubts. But, as we learned from our friend Roald Dahl, with whom we have spent an inordinate amount of time, "However small the chance might be of striking lucky, the chance was there." 

SELF-EDIT (Sorry...that was going to be the conclusion but...)

I am not fan of the notion of "luck." When people say, "You're so lucky," rarely is the tone or sentiment positive; rather it is underscored with jealousy or bitterness...implying that your outcome was undeserved. ("Blessed" is a whole OTHER blog). Watching my colleagues agonize, lose sleep, and work tirelessly to produce a meaningful experience for the students had very little to do with "luck."

Let's try some other quotes:

A dream doesn't become reality through magic; it takes sweat, determination, and hard work.~ Colin Powell

Luck is what happens when preparation meets opportunity. ~Seneca the Younger

Luck? Luck is hard work-and realizing what is opportunity and what isn't. ~Lucille Ball

I find the harder I work, the more luck I seem to have.~(attributed to many)

Still recovering from almost missing my looming deadline folding wedding blankets

I was blessed to attend a wedding recently. They, on the other hand, were not so blessed to have me on hand "to help." My skill set is strictly limited to snacking and making sarcastic remarks. When it was quickly discovered that I couldn't assemble metal arches, weave flower garlands, or drape tulle and twinkly lights across smooth surfaces, I was assigned the important task of rolling wedding blankets. 

The most important rule in rolling wedding blankets is to NOT ask why one must roll wedding blankets in the first place. If you are silly enough to question even the mere existence of wedding blankets, you might be downgraded to fanning out the pretty personalized cupcake napkins. The most important rule in fanning out the personalized cupcake napkins is to NOT point out that people will be wiping their frosted faces on the pretty personalized cupcake napkins so why not buy the 500-pack of economy napkins from Stuff-mart. Should you cross THAT line, you will then be relegated to putting a thousand tablecloth clips on the outdoor patio furniture.

"Okay, explain to me how to do this," I sighed, choosing the least of the wedding preparation evils. After my tutorial, I was exiled to the bedroom so I could "concentrate.""Concentrate," my ass, I was being sequestered from the social activities. "Keep her busy," someone had said, so I was given the adult equivalent of a coloring book.

"Hotdog, hotdog," I chanted, establishing a rhythm, not unlike the work songs of the men driving in the railroad spikes. Having folded the blanket, the long way, twice, I then flicked the fabric over the bed like a whip. Starting at the short end, I'd tightly roll it up, wrestle on a ribbon and then attach the cute card. 

Easy.

Except it wasn't.

I couldn't get the sides to line up perfectly.

Hot dog was an appropriate image as my rolled blankets often resembled an over-microwaved frankfurter flare-up. They looked like an eggroll had exploded. I took a break...maybe I was hungry. The rest of the suite was empty as everyone else had left to visit the downstairs bar. They must have inadvertently forgotten me. I felt sorry for them, knowing that they weren't having any fun without me there.

I grabbed a cheese tray and returned to my duties.

I will spare you the horrors of trying to lasso those little doggies with the elegant ribbon bows. Those of you who have ever risked near-strangulation pulling on shape-wear will automatically empathize with my trials. 

Two hours later, I was done. The arch-way installers did not give me the accolades I felt I deserved. The woman weaving three room's length of flower garland couldn't  pause for even a baby breath's of a second to applaud...instead, pursing her tulips together in disapproval. I was then handed the pretty personalized cupcake napkins and sent to the kitchen.

Imagine my FURY, later at the party, when no-one was taking a blanket.

I prowled the patio until I spotted a sophisticated Romanian smoker curled elegantly on a chaise lounge.  "Can I get you a blanket?" I offered. Shaking her head "no," she smiled at me and pulled her fashionable shawl tighter around her. Infuriated, I stalked back to my pyramid of plush blankets and grabbed one for her. After a brief struggle, I succeeded in wrapping her up. I spent the remainder of the evening like a matador, chasing blanket-less bull-headed people around the party.

I wonder why I don't get invited to more weddings...I really do.