I stopped by the liquor store on the way back from work today. Lots of cool spooky and seasonal libations that I’ve never tried (cue up the Kris Kristofferson, “there's still a lot of drinks that I ain't drunk. And lots of pretty thoughts that I ain't thunk”). It’s been a weak season for seasonal cocktails at my house. That’s mainly because Lindsey is pregnant and can’t have them, so she’s been sticking to wine and beer and cocaine. As for me, it’s not too fun a ritual to enact by myself.
Every year we find complex cocktail recipes that either taste like Autumn or look like Halloween, gather the ingredients like we’re searching out rare substances for a spell, head home to carefully craft those cocktails, and then sit down to watch a horror movie. We’ll usually pause halfway through to craft another. And then we’ll grab the giant bag of Halloween Oreos and eat them all since our self-control has been eroded just enough by those two drinks. We’ll also really love the movie we watch, even if it’s Trick or Treats.
It’s also the time when things become…kind of normal. You’re used to the ritual of turning on all the Halloween lights. Hitting the switch for the giant inflatable ghoul. Knowing for sure tonight will be a horror movie night. Seeing commercials for Halloween programming. It’s not so much a rut, as it is a cozy groove. Like you know this is life from here on out.
But soon, we’ll feel the end coming like an icy blast from the north, like a store shelf stocked with reindeer candle holders. Like pumpkin guts in the trashcan. Then we’ll pull ourselves up by our grave dirt and start mashin’ with some monsters.
It’ll happen this weekend. Just you watch. You know, unless the baby comes and kills us all.