The first Trick or Treaters showed up at 4:50. The last about 7:40. There were 15 total.
Barb and Max put out decorations and put orange bulbs in the outside lights:
Max had to be persuaded to let me take his picture with his ice machine but he finally relented:
Eventually Max got a little bored with his machine and put the dry ice in some soapy water:
It was a pretty quiet Halloween but quite pleasant.
A fair number of people previously expressed some concern about Barb counting my shirts. As I said in an update to the post and in the comments I don’t really think there is anything to be worried about. A few days ago she gave me two coats, two sweaters, and a pair of pants for my birthday.
The only way I can resolve the present data in an adverse manner is if Barb is trying to get my closet rod to break due to excessive loading then suggest it was my fault for having so many clothes. That would be far too subtle and complicated for her personality. She is very direct.
Barb and I work a short distance from each other and when there are no conflicts with meetings or Barb working from home we have lunch together. Today we had lunch at Taco del Mar in Westlake center. We both had a “Mondo Burrito.” Barb had a spinach based wrap and I had a whole wheat wrap.
Max and Barb have been doing a fair amount of preparation for Halloween. There were the meringue ghost cookies which are delicious sugar bombs and various lights and decorations being put up around the house.
But what impressed me (and I think Barb) the most was the fog machine Max built:
I haven’t seen it action yet and Max won’t let me take a picture of him with it until it is but it looks to me like it should work just fine.
I was in Idaho this weekend to visit my family. Saturday night after dinner at my brother Doug’s place my sister in law, Julie, checked her email and came back. My niece Lisa, who lives in Kent, asked if they could have the couch her brother, Brad, had before he died. The plans was for her unemployed boyfriend, Kevin, to drive to Idaho load up the couch in Brad’s pickup, drive to Kent, then drive back to Idaho, get his car, then drive back to Kent.
I thought this was crazy talk and told them that if they would arrange for the U-Haul trailer I would pull the trailer and couch back to Kent for Lisa. They did and I did.
About half-way back I stopped for a break and to check on the condition of the trailer, hitch, load, etc. I took a picture of my car and trailer and sent it to Barb with the message, “I have more stuff to unpack. Want to come over and help tonight?”
After about five minutes without a reply I began to worry. Maybe she was plotting my death, or at least, a break up with me. She has helped so much with my move and all the old stuff that should be thrown away I was worried I could be endangering the relationship by asking for even more help.
So I sent her another text message, “It’s a couch for Lisa.”
She replied back in about two minutes, “LOL. I was too busy typing OMG.”
Via text messages we arranged to meet up and take the couch to Lisa together.
I arrived shortly after Maddy and Barb started their weekly telephone conversation. After the conversation was over Barb navigated and I drove to Lisa’s place. We delivered the couch, went back to my place, and unloaded the rifles I had brought back from the Boomershoot site:
Barb still had a smile on her face and I don’t think it was because she was envisioning a painful and horrible fate for me during the night.
The other day Barb was helping me unpack my stuff at the new clock tower. She was out of sight for a while then came back, walked up to me and said, “You have 242 shirts.” “And your point is?”, I asked. No verbal reply. There was some body language but it was indecipherable to me. Okay. Whatever. Her Match.com profile did say she was eclectic* so maybe this was an example of this. I thought maybe she just liked to keep count of things like that. She has a great head for numbers. So I asked, “Did you include the ones in the dirty clothes? And I think there are some I left at your place.” She had not included those and a couple of days later she reported, “You have over 250 shirts.” Again I asked, “And your point is?” Again I got silence and that indecipherable body language. I thought about it a while and thought maybe she was trying to say I had too many shirts. So I went into my closet and looked. Nope. I still have room for more: 
Today she told me she was going to count my gloves. It must be that eclectic thing again.
* Originally it had said, “eccentric” but her daughter suggested “eclectic” instead and so it was changed before I saw it.
Barb and I went mushroom hunting today. We missed the turn off the first time but Barb recognized it as we went past and she looped around and connected on the second pass.
A similar thing occurred as we were walking along the trail looking for the path up the hill.
Regardless of the minor lack of turns we found a bunch of mushrooms. Some editable, some just pretty.
As I was unpacking at my new clock tower* Barb L. encouraged me to throw out old clothes. She told me, “A general rule is that if you haven’t worn it in over a year it’s time to let it go.” I went to the closet and pulled out a sweatshirt. I told her, “I use a different rule than you. I bought this 40 years ago last month and I haven’t worn it in at least 20 years. I don’t plan on throwing it away.” She seemed to understand the new rule and there were no further discussions about it. But then a while later she told me, “Okay. I’m going to take a picture of all your hats, gloves, and t-shirts. Then I’m going to post them on your blog and tell everyone to not give you any more.” “Why?”, I asked. She gave me a look that seemed like she was about to burst into some incredible snark but was exercising extraordinary restraint and said nothing. Women. You are supposed to “communicate” with them then they don’t talk even when you ask them questions. Whatever. That was a couple days ago. Today I finished unpacking all my clothes and was thinking about what she had said. I decided I might be able to figure out what she was talking about if I spread the items out and took the picture myself. Here is a picture of some of my hats:
I think I understand now. She wants to be the one to give me new hats so I can express genuine pleasure at getting a new one rather than a duplicate of existing one.
* The view from the Clock Tower at my “neighbors” over two miles away through a 6X scope looks something like this:
Tonight Barb and I went to the first half of an Interlake football game where Max was in the marching band at half-time. We volunteered to pass out plumes to the band members just prior to them marching onto the field.
The weather was good this time. Last time it there was a light drizzle and they decided to do without the plumes. It was surprisingly intense as several dozen band members descended on us and we handed the plumes out so fast that we didn’t really get a chance to even look up at the band members. It was head down, looking into the box, grab a plume, shove it up towards the crowd, both hands working independently.
Something surprised both Barb and I. Nearly everyone said, “Thank you!” Because there were so many and the transfers were going so fast one “Thank you!” blurred into the next and even if we tried we could not have replied, “You’re welcome!” as rapidly as the thank yours were coming in. I think I got out about one “You’re welcome!” for every five incoming “Thank you!”.
Retrieving and boxing up the plumes at the end of half-time was similar. Very intense with lots of “thank you”’s.
