It is Halloween Night, just hours before Dia de los Muertos, and despite the mountains of candy I purchased this weekend, our doorstep has yet to be graced by a single trick-or-treater. I think the word is out that truly creepy things have been happening at our house, and the kids are wisely keeping their distance. In fact our household has experienced an unusually high mortality rate this October. Here, then, is a tribute to those we have recently lost:
This brave little toaster expired last week after a long illness, a mere nine years after it first came to live with us. We purchased the toaster just before beginning a kitchen renovation, because the promotional material assured us it could bake pies and roast chickens. What a great way, we thought, to survive five months without a kitchen! Ridiculous, of course; toasters can't roast chickens or bake pies. But they can make toast, and this one toasted an estimated 18,000 slices during its years on this earth, along with 2,500 or so grilled cheese sandwiches. We will miss you, my friend.
This waffle iron was an engagement gift from my in-laws, received some time in 1990. It emerged recently from obscurity in the back of a cabinet to make a starring (and stirring) appearance in "The Singing Mammogram," posted on this very website in July. I was planning to write that the waffle iron was our household's Norma Desmond, the once-famous actress played by Gloria Swanson in "Sunset Boulevard," who spends her twilight years preparing for her next star turn long after her star has completely set. But then Steve reminded me that it's not actually Norma Desmond who dies in "Sunset Boulevard," but the William Holden character. And our waffle iron was nothing at all like William Holden. Maybe the waffle iron was actually the Eric von Stroheim of our household -- he won an Academy Award for his performance in "Sunset Boulevard" as Gloria Swanson's director-turned-butler. (In real life, he had at one time been Gloria Swanson's actual director, but Swanson ruined his directing career when she got him fired from what turned out to be his final gig.)
No: our waffle iron was no Eric von Stroheim. Steve thinks it was more like the main character in "Tosca," or maybe like Marlene Dietrich in "The Blue Angel."
I am not at all surprised that children are avoiding our house.
Can you see the grease stains on my favorite jeans? They were four years old, these jeans, and worn in to absolute perfection. Sadly, these jeans were another October fatality, done in when I realized, too late, that before you vigorously shake a jar of salad dressing it is highly recommended that you screw on the lid. At least now, when I put them on, I will be secure in the knowledge that I am wearing organic olive oil grown and pressed by a Palestinian fair trade collective.
Rest in peace, my old denim friends.
And finally, this relative newcomer:
Dead before it even got started. I won this lava lamp in a charity raffle, and I was very, very thrilled, since I have always loved and coveted lava lamps, and I was quite sure this one would lift me out of my dead toaster-and-ruined-jeans funk. But alas, I could never even get it to turn on. Which, come to think of it, happened as well to the last lava lamp I brought home.
Lava lamp, I hardly knew ye'.
On a cheerier note: November is Ringtone Month at midlifemomsongs!! I will be posting one new downloadable ringtone every week. Stay tuned!!