Already Counting the Days Until Next Hallowe'en

Hallowe'en here at Tumbledown is sometimes all about the pumpkins.

If you don't know this yet about me, Hallowe'en is my fave holiday of the year. It's gotten more so as I've aged, and each time it nears I'm reminded of every Ray Bradbury story I've ever read and my head spins with his images.

To me it's all about the atmosphere.

Now it's usually more about the 'creepy' than the 'cute.'

In past years my holiday decor consisted of pumpkins, gourds, jack-o-lanterns, scarf-draped lamps and tarot cards, flickering candles and mulled cider and Ouija boards. But since James moved in with me all that has changed.

James is an old-school, 'slasher film' kinda Hallowe'en guy. And a Young Frankenstein kinda Hallowe'en guy. There's humor in his holiday, and a healthy pinch of gore. He's not above the pop-up-and-scare-you stuff (at which I draw the line). And a trip to a seasonal Hallowe'en outlet with him is 'interesting.'

Left on our own, I will go directly to the atmospheric stuff (The candelabra! The fringed black tablerunners!), but James wants the crawling zombie animatronic. He wants the clacking and sparking lab device, the knife switches, the bubbling beakers with their contents of fake bloody body parts. He wants the quaking tombstones and the screaming wraiths....

So I've taken to divvying up the house: I get the inside, he gets the outside. And then I tweak all that he does because I'm a Hallowe'en control freak.

Mr. Bones relaxes by the fire.

This year, one of our first holiday purchases was a full-size skeleton. I've always wanted one, and I've held out over the years until I could find something that looked 'just right.' (There are a lot of skellies out there, but the bulk of them just look cheesy....)

Before we even got him home I'd already named him Mr. Bones. Not original, I know, but when I first saw him in the store I couldn't help but say, "Ahhhh, we meet again, Meestah Bohnz!" (Admit it; not even you can say his name without sounding like a Bond villain.) And not surprisingly, the name stuck. What can I say?....

This looks equally nice as a mantel scarf!

In the same picture (above) you can kind of see the lamp on my fireplace mantel. You may or may not be able to see that it's a real working electric meter, but that's not the part I want to show you. This year I spookified my mantel lamp with a fringy black valance from a curtain set that I'd bought at a Hallowe'en store once upon a time. (I wasn't sure then what I was going to do with it or if I'd ever use it, but it's better to be safe than sorry, right?). I ran a shoelace through the spaces in the top of the valance where a curtain rod would go, and then I tied the ends of the shoelace together before draping the whole thing over the lampshade. When it was in place, I finger-pleated the curtain. Voila! :)

I love the result, don't you?

While I was playing around indoors, James was busy in the front garden, stomping my sedum and artemesia into fragrant dust while negotiating the logistics of the fog machine. And then there were tombstones to hook up to it, obelisks to arrange, and battery-operated Angels of Death to suspend from my garden hooks -- all before the trick-or-treaters were due to arrive.

This season we discovered a creation at the Goodwill that we refer to now as 'Cocoon Man.' It's a vaguely body-shaped lump wrapped in fake spiderweb. The thing I love about it is that even though it's battery-operated to do stuff, it's still pretty low key for an animatronic. No deafening sound effects. No stupid cackling voice shrieking things like, "Get me out of here!" (I could never figure out why it's not enough for Hallowe'en decorations to just look cool....)

The photo doesn't do him justice, but you get the idea.

At first we were going to simply suspend Cocoon Man by his feet from a tree branch. But I couldn't help thinking how much better he'd look hanging vertical inside the lighted archway that I normally keep inside my house by the front door. (Yes, it's a Hallowe'en prop, too, but I didn't have the heart to pack it away; it's just too cool. And leaving it outside year 'round was out of the question, and not because I care at all what the neighbor's think. I just didn't want it to fall prey to the Minne-snow-tah elements.)

After combining Cocoon Man with the archway, I again couldn't help thinking how much better he'd look with some more of my tweaking. I entwined the arch with a swag of black plastic maple leaves, then wrapped Cocoon Man in more spiderweb before sprinkling him with a few plastic spiders. Then I affixed a large furry spider (it has a funny face, so I'm guessing it was originally meant as a table decoration) to his throat to make it look as though Big Mama spider had chosen him as dinner for her spiderlings. Mwa-ha-haaaaa. I had no idea that the whole effect would look so awesome come nighttime....

Cheap top hat + valance + eyeliner = costume

Since I was knee-deep in the doldrums at the time, I had little interest in doing more for the holiday than we already had. However, five minutes before our first trick-or-treater was due, I found the interest and energy to cook up a quick costume. One floppy top hat (again from the Goodwill; this one had the word 'Bridegroom' across the front of it, but I blacked the letters out with marker), one additional black lace curtain valance, some liquid eyeliner and I was good to go.

Three dozen trick-or-treaters and a handful of Addams Family TV-series reruns later and Cocoon Man and the rest of his graveyard friends were back inside, awaiting their return to the basement again until next year.

Sadly, our trick-or-treater count was down from seasons past. James thinks that our usual Goth teens have grown up and moved on, and he hopes that we're somehow inspiring Hallowe'en-lovin' little ones to return in future. At least a couple ventured forth with their parents this year and whispered shyly to James that they 'love our house,' so it was nice to know that all James's work was noticed....

And I say 'James's work' because he really did do the bulk of it. I felt bad that because of my mood this year I was unable to do much of the stuff I usually do for Hallowe'en. No pinky-grey Jell-O molded to look like a human brain. No paper lunchbags inkstamped with witchy images and filled full for the trick-or-treaters. No Body Bag Tacos or cauldron brimming with green margaritas. No haunted house sounds moaning from the stereo speakers.... I'm blaming it all on a bout of Post-Fest doldrums followed by a month that was all about obligation when it should've been about recovery...

But I have high hopes for next year.
:)

...

Lest you think I've forgotten, today's additions to the Thankfulness List are:

1.) A birthday that's in the month of October.
2.) Leftover Hallowe'en candy.
3.) Ray Bradbury and how he gets into my head more than ever each autumn.
4.) Actress Carolyn Jones' oh-so-curvy Morticia Addams.
5.) A guy in my life who doesn't mind putting away the Hallowe'en flotsam. (Thank you, James!)

Still, Still Waters.......

There are doldrums, and there are Doldrums. And then there are Dreaded Doldrums. And sometimes the best a person can do is just ride them the heck out.

 

I know you know what I mean. You've probably experienced them, too. You may even be far better at this than I am, and if so, I hope you'll share your coping mechanisms and help me start a dialogue. Because I need all the help I can get.

 

I can usually sense the Dreaded Doldrums approaching from a day or two away, and there are things I can do ahead of time to (hopefully) make them easier. Like clear my calendar and get some books in order. Maybe some pencils. 

 

And then the Walking Away From Communication begins. Facebook rubs my skin raw. Emails make me nervous. A ringing telephone feels like a personal violation. Spoken words hurt my ears. I retreat from people, pull myself in and talk in one-word sentences. Others begin their conversations sharply, "WHAT'S WRONG!?", like they suspect I'm angry and they're just protecting themselves by throwing the first punch.

 

If there are things on my schedule that cannot be avoided, I search the closet for some SuperHero duds, something I can put on like a costume and a mask to hide behind and make people think I'm OK. Often it's just my standard black tee and jeans and boots (heaven help me if I am expected to attend something special). I'll take the time for mascara, even. And I think I'm practiced at this enough to fake the world into not noticing me at all, or at least not noticing my discomfort. But when I'm wearing that Cloak of Invisibility, my mom still sees me and feels compelled to comment. "You never wear anything cute and colorful! You're always hiding!" She's on to me....

 

I dislike these rough patches. They take time. Days pass as I see them approaching. Days pass as I float along in limbo, feeling nothing and feeling EVERYthing (not sure what's worse...). Days pass as I stitch myself together again, thread by thread. And eventually I'm almost human once more, pretending to be creative and cheerful and sometimes almost believing that I really am. But the patchwork-ed-ness of these tears and repairs are getting dodgy. The older I get, the more threadbare I am....

 

Writing about Depression in an art blog seems superfluous. Like you can't address creativity without at least noticing the sad dog that follows it around. But I can't ignore it here. I can't. I'm not like those other artists / bloggers, the ones that -- day-in and day-out -- are nonstop Rainbow Brites on espresso, spewing sparkles and unicorns and big puffy hearts. How do they do that??

 

I envy them. I hate them. I want to be them. And I try....

 

The bottom line is: no one wants to read about my pain. They don't want me to infect them or expose them to my sad germs! They want me to make their day better, they want to leave here with a smile on their face. And I have to find a way to do that, even during the Doldrums. 

 

Is that what those other Rainbow Brite bloggers have figured out? Do they have someone ghostwriting their posts while they're curled up in bed, trying to sleep the pain away? Or are they lying? Acting all cartoony and full of color when they're not? And if so, doesn't their deception depress them even more?

 

I wish I knew.

So for the record, feel free to read between the lines here. For every puffy heart and exclamation mark I try to sneak in, please know there's a dark hurty hole that I'm hiding. I don't want you to think I'm being dishonest. But I'm going to try to disguise my inner Sad Girl as often as possible, so that you'll enjoy your visits and come back.

That being said, chamomile or Earl Grey? And the only cookies I have are shortbread. No sprinkles. And please take three; they're small.

*Big sigh and a shaky smile*

SO glad that's out of the way! How have YOU been, my friend?

...