How 'bout getting off of these antibiotics

The week started out well enough. It was Bone's first-ever attempt at an Halloween party. Though there was some pause given on whether to have the fiesta on Saturday or Sunday night, as Halloween fell on Sunday and I don't know how it is where you're from but in Alabama Sunday night is church night. As is Wednesday night. So towns, cities and churches debated on whether to declare Saturday the official night for tricks and treats. With no clear consensus reached, confusion reigned.

Fortunately, I thrive on confusion. OK, maybe not, but it sounded like a good thing to say there.

So the party was set for Saturday night and up until Saturday Noon looked like it would be about as well attended as a Dick Cheney hunting seminar. Then I guess no one could find anything else better to do -- which in itself is just beyond pathetic -- and we wound up with several late commits and a party of twelve.

There was pumpkin carving, pumpkin cupcakes -- which I did not sample, blech -- and the newest Halloween tradition of them all, a few games of Spoons. I don't know how familiar you are with the rules of Spoons, but my goal is to be in the final two, NOT get the four-of-a-kind, yet still manage to grab the spoon first. I mean, that would by far be the ultimate amongst all my relatively useless competitive accomplishments. I will retire from Spoons when that happens. And possibly do the late-night talk show circuit.

Perhaps the highlight of the evening was the costume contest. There was an adult costume contest, which wasn't as fun as it initially sounds, and a children's contest. Dressing up for Halloween for the first time in over twenty years, I managed to win the adult contest, barely outdistancing Lil Bootay 3 votes to 2, which was even odder ("even odder?") considering she wasn't wearing a costume.

So the party was a qualified (and inexplicable) success. Then things began to go downhill.

I got a sore throat Monday night. Normally I'm over anything in a day, two max. But things kept getting worse. I went to the doctor Thursday, but instead of antibiotics, he gave me some sore throat mouthwash, which didn't really help my sore throat but did function somewhat well as a weight loss pill as it soon brought my vomitless streak to an end.

I started running a fever Thursday night, which for some reason always makes me think of the time on Little House On The Prairie that Albert had a fever and they put him in a tub of ice. Or was it Almanzo? And why do I always think of that? It's not like I could ever actually do it. I can't even stand a cold shower.

Also -- and I don't think I've ever noticed this before -- but it's possible I'm a bit of a whiner when I'm sick. This occurred to me sometime amidst the three days of lying around randomly making groaning noises and occasionally moaning things like "I'm dying" and "Why me, Lord?"

Hard to believe any week that began like this could actually go downhill:


But alas, things are finally looking up. I went to the walk-in clinic today (you just cannot make that sound classy) and took two shots in the buttocks (that either). On a positive note, they were administered by a female.

So I've got some antibiotics. I have something else in common with Forrest Gump (besides hailing from Alabama). And best of all, McRib is back! Who wouldn't wanna be me?

"It'd be easy to add up all the pain, and all the dreams you sat and watched go up in flames. Dwell on the wreckage as it smolders in the rain. But not me. I'm alive..."

As autumn stirs

Autumn arrived on a Monday this year, not according to some number on a wall, but just as she always does, with a familiar and unmistakable change in the air. A certain chill which serves notice that while winter may not be imminent, it is also not all that far away.

Autumn is a reminder. First, of autumns gone before. Then, of itself, of all the things that autumn is--windy days, a high school football game, Halloween and Thanksgiving, trees surrendering their leaves in grand displays of oranges, yellows and reds as the Earth slowly falls to sleep.

The autumn wind seems to stir up a rustle of memories. I think of Homecoming dances and driving my Ford Escort to school, rolling yards and backyard football games. I think of camping out, singing every song we could think of, and no one complaining when I broke into my beyond bad falsetto to sing "Sherry, Baby." I think of girls I knew and almost knew. And I think of jumping into big piles of leaves as a kid, and Thanksgivings when everybody I loved was still here.

Every year has one and only one, that first day of chill in the air when summer finally relents, knowing its hottest days have been spent.

There's a comfortableness. And yet something nostalgic. It's nothing you can grasp or hold in your hand. Just something you feel, and know, without being able to explain.

Summer is freedom--sunglasses and a smile. Winter is harsh and lonesome. Spring holds promise of things new and fresh, and the hope of something better.

But autumn?

Autumn remembers.

"The last time I saw her it was turning colder, but that was years ago. Last I heard, she had moved to Boulder. But where she's now I don't know..."

Stormtroopers, shakers, and we're #1?

Friday was Halloween. I should have warned you about this ahead of time. I know how unsettling it can be to have people dressed in scary costumes wandering down the street and knocking on your door if you're not prepared for it.

My final trick-or-treater count for the night was four. Kywana brought their two offspring by, which gave me a much needed reason to clean my house. The kids were dressed as Batgirl and a lion. They also had a stray stormtrooper in tow, who apparently had escaped the Death Star but forgot his helmet. I never realized how vital the helmet is to the stormtrooper ensemble. Otherwise, it just sort of looks like a bad Cameo getup. Word up?

After they left, I took the Millenium Falcon over to my sister's to visit Nephew Bone. My sister didn't want to get him out for some reason, so we had to bring his gifts to him. Talk about having it made! Nephew Bone was dressed up as a turtle, as you may or may not be able to see from this picture. Just trust me, he's a turtle.



There seems to be a general decline in the number of trick-or-treaters each year. I find that very disheartening. Kids who do trick-or-treat seem to be giving it up earlier and earlier, bowing out by age nine or ten. I'm thinking of speaking at a couple of Kindergarten assemblies to try and encourage kids to get out there and collect candy from these fools who are so stupidly giving it away.

Saturday, I attended the Bama/Arkansas State game. It was the first time Bama had played Arkansas State since 1982. I was also at that game, which we won 34-7. I remember ASU blocked a punt late for a touchdown. I also remember Mom pointing out Bear Bryant standing by the goal post before the game. It was Bear's last season. That was only the second Bama game I had ever attended. So Saturday had sort of a coming full circle feeling for me.

This week was also homecoming and several of the regulars who sit around us--Earl, DUI, Ultimatum, Carlin--weren't there. Before the game, my sister turns to me and says, "Does this guy behind us have a mullet?" Trying to be as inconspicuous as possible, I turned and discovered that yes, indeed, he did. It was old school, too. A vintage Camaro crash helmet. I immediately nicknamed him Billy Ray.

Bama won the game 35-0 thanks to a strong performance by the defense and a solid running game. And after Texas lost to Texas Tech Saturday night, Bama became the #1 ranked team in the nation. It's nice to be recognized, but honestly it makes me even more nervous than I am normally. I'd rather have remained #2 and then jump to #1 after the last game. Rankings don't mean much until the end of the season. I'm going to be shaking like a car with an out of balance tire on the interstate watching the LSU game this coming Saturday.

Speaking of shaking, I want to close today with a heartwarming brother/sister story. Red and white shakers are a big thing at Bama games. It seems like at least half of the 92,000 fans have them, yours truly included. Well, a streamer from one of the shakers wound up in my sister's Coke. So she turns to me and asks, "Is it OK to still drink this?"

"Yeah," I replied, waiting a couple of seconds before continuing. "It's OK for you. It wouldn't be OK for me."

"Wave your hands in the air like you don't care. Glide by the people as they start to look and stare. Do your dance. Do your dance. Do your dance quick, mama..."

Holy candy, Batman!

It's that time of the year again! Time for Halloween. And while your newspapers, TV stations, and schools may be flooded with things like Halloween safety tips and other nonsense, Bone is bringing you information you can use. Today I present Bone's Halloween Candy Tips For Kids.

After all, Halloween is not about ghosts, or pumpkins, or the Devil. It's about candy, and Jamie Lee Curtis. The word halloween comes from hallowed, which means holy, and weenie, which when you're a kid tastes just as good as candy. So basically, Halloween means "holy candy."

So here we go, kids. And by kids, I don't mean fifteen year old girls who put on a flannel shirt and call themselves hobos. First of all, flannel is coming back someday, and I'll be ready when it does. Second of all, if you're old enough to bear children and legally drive a motorcycle, you're old enough to buy your own candy.

Tip #1: Quality Over Quantity
While your goal starting out the evening is to fill up your bag(s) with candy, remember this: Every piece of crap candy in your bag means less room for the good stuff.

Make a mental note of houses that give out good candy, and conversely, those that give out things like toothbrushes and pencils with a little ribbon around them. Um, it's frickin' November, lady. I've had my school supplies since August, but thanks anyway. Oh and by the way, don't look for me next year. This house has officially been blacklisted.

Know your 'hoods and maximize your time. You only have a few hours one night a year to amass as much candy as possible. If there are only two good houses in a neighborhood of twenty homes, don't waste your time. Skip it, and double up on the good houses.

Chances are, they won't remember you've already been there earlier in the night. Plus, people like giving away candy. It makes them feel good. So by going to the same house three times in one night, you're making them feel three times as good.

Tip #2: All Fruit Is Bad
Few things are more disappointing in the life of a child than having a bulbous apple or orange dropped into his or her Halloween bag. Actually, I can't think of anything worse.

Back in my trick-or-treating days, my initial thought upon receiving fruit was always the same, Gee thanks. Could I have a can of spinach, as well? And while I'm here, maybe I could recite my multiplication tables for you.

Fruit is bad, no matter what the doctor and your parents say. (Remember these are the same people who give you shots and make you go to school.) Besides its non-sugary taste, fruit is quite heavy and weighs down your bag. Get rid of it as soon as possible, perhaps by slipping it inside your sister's bag when she isn't looking.

And if your parents try to object to you throwing fruit away, just tell them a scary lady with nine cats gave it to you and told you it was a very special kind of apple that she made just for you. That should do the trick.

Tip #3: Choose A Practical Costume
While the thirty dollar Harry Potter costume with the plastic mask might look great, chances are you'll wind up spending half your night tripping over the legs, retying strings, and stepping in holes because you can't see very well out of those tiny eye slits.

I recommend no mask at all. Some face paint or whiskers drawn on will work just fine. If people ask what you're supposed to be, just act really sad/confused/shy and say, "I don't know. Mom said we couldn't afford a real costume." And if necessary, start crying. Remember you're out there to get candy, not win a beauty pageant.

Tip #4: Travel alone
I have no hard evidence to back this up, but I believe that you receive more candy on average if you trick-or-treat by yourself than if you go with other people. I base my theory on two principles.

First, the candy allocators might feel sorry for a kid who is having to trick-or-treat alone.

Second, look at it like this. If a homeless person came to my door asking for money, I might give them $20. But if five homeless people came to my door at the same time, would I give them all $20? Of course not. I would instead not answer the door and pretend I wasn't home.

Summary:
In closing, let me say that every town is a little different. You have to figure out and implement the best strategy for your area. The bottom line is this: Once you realize trick-or-treating is a logical, methodical process of collecting candy and not just haphazardly going around to random houses, you'll be eating Reese's Cups and Mini 3 Musketeers well into early December.

"Candy on the beach, there's nothing better. But I like candy when it's wrapped in a sweater..."

Halloween: Lagrange repost

Someone suggested I repost my Lagrange story for Halloween. But first, let us remember the origins of this festive holiday.

About seven hundred years ago, a young lad named Alexander and his peeps William and Gamel, also known as G-dawg, would go around spray painting graffiti on people's moat bridges. They had to disguise themselves because Alexander's dad, also named Alexander, was a vassal. And if he found out about the kids' mischief, well, needless to say, there would be big trouble.

It became a big problem around the fief, also known as the 'hood. Manor Watch was never able to catch the kids. So at some point, people began to offer the boys candy. In exchange, the boys agreed not to deface their moat bridges. And the tradition of Halloween was born.

So, here's to you Alexander, William, and Gamel. I have a big bowl of Reese's cups at home. And if my number of trick-or-treaters doesn't surpass last year's total of nine, I'll be eating most of it myself.

Here's my Lagrange story. Originally posted July 8, 2005...

What you are about to read is real. Some names have been altered so as to avoid federal prosecution. Exact times and dates have become hazy over the years. But what is crystal clear are the events that transpired on a late night and early morning during the winter of 1994. This is a story of curiosity, adventure, and dangerous naivety. Proceed if you dare.

Over the years, LaGrange had gained somewhat of a fabled status among the youths in the area. Oft-repeated tales of ghosts, animal sacrifices, and devil worshippers sparked not only fear, but also morbid curiosity. The legend grew to mythical proportions.

It was January or February, a very cold night, whatever the month. A friend of mine, we'll call him Little Joe, and I were bored one Friday night. Around 10:00 PM, our curiosity and stupidity got the best of us and we decided to venture to LaGrange.

LaGrange was the first chartered college in the state of Alabama. From what I have read it originally served as a military academy. Once the Civil War began, most students left to serve in the war and it was turned into an all-girls school. That only lasted a short time as Union soldiers burned it down a couple of years later.

Now there are basically only a couple of deserted buildings, a cemetery, and a park remaining. It is located on a "spur" of the Cumberland mountains.

Entering LaGrange, once you leave the main highway, you are traveling almost immediately uphill. There are just a handful of houses, then you pass a deserted building that (I assume) was part of the college. Shortly after that, the paved road ends, and you enter into a dense area of overgrown weeds and trees.

Probably about a half mile after that, the dirt road forks. To the left and up the mountain a little way is the cemetery. I have never known what was straight ahead. For some reason, that night, we decided we would find out.

After driving up to the cemetery and walking around for a little while, we got back in the car and started out. The deserted buildings and the cemetery had been scary, but no real big deal. Well, when we got back to the T in the road, rather than going right and going home, Little Joe decided to see what was to the left.

I can't recall if it had rained or snowed, but whichever it was, the road was muddy. We paused for a moment and I tried to talk him out of it. I told him if we got stuck, there was no way I was going to get out and push the car. Well, he didn't listen.

We turned left, got no more than 30 or 40 feet down the road and realized this road was in extremely bad condition. It was much muddier than the other roads and there were deep tire tracks, more like trenches, which we were following.

Little Joe agreed to turn around. But the road was so narrow that there was no way to. So he would have to back it out. He put it in reverse. And the car wouldn't move. It had bottomed out, as the tires had sunk deep down into the muddy trenches. So there we were, stuck. Deep in these eerie woods, with all the horror stories I had ever heard about this place running through my head.

I kept my word at first, and made Little Joe push, but he couldn't budge it. Finally, I got out of the car and tried to help. Still wouldn't move. We had two options. We could lock the doors and stay in the car until daylight, or we could start walking. We decided on the latter.

I remembered a little store that we had passed on the side of the main highway. I wasn't sure how far it was, and it wouldn't be open at this hour, but maybe there would be a payphone we could use. Keep in mind, this was before cell phones were commonplace. So we got all the change we could find out of the car and started walking. That was the most scared I have ever been.

I have never heard so many weird noises and so many things moving. We didn't have a flashlight or anything. It was just us on a dark, narrow dirt road, surrounded on both sides by weeds and trees that seemed to have eyes. Finally, after what seemed like an hour, but was probably only like ten minutes, we reached a house, and that felt a little safer.

A few minutes more and we reached the main highway. And thought we could see the light from the store down the road. It looked a lot closer than it was. I think one time a few weeks later we drove out there and checked to see how far we had walked. Seems like it ended up being like 3 or 4 miles.

Let me insert here that during this time I was going through my heavy country music phase, and was wearing western boots that were about a half-size too small for my feet. Anyway, I don't remember exactly when we got to the store. Seems like it was a little after midnight. Thankfully, there was a payphone.

We decided to call a friend of ours. Let's call him Ben. It was a long distance call. Pooling all our change together, we had just enough money to make the call and have like twenty cents leftover. I called. Ben's mother answered. He was asleep. I asked her to wake him.

Ben came to the phone. I told him our situation, that we were stranded, and had used all of our money to call him. He said OK and that he would come to pick us up. But something in his tone of voice had me worried. 12:45. 1:00. 1:30. Nothing. No sign of Ben. That loser! He had left us there to die.

Let me remind you that it was now officially freezing. There was a wooden bench in front of the store that I laid on while we thought of what to do. From here, we were probably about 30 minutes from home, by car. It was now closing in on 2:00 AM. We pondered hitching a ride with an 18-wheeler, as we had seen on TV or in the movies. But decided to call a friend of Little Joe's. Let's call him Hoss.

I charged the call to my parents phone number. Hoss was thought to be more reliable than Ben, so we were hopeful. 2:00. 2:15. 2:45. No sign of Hoss. Finally, around 3:00, a van pulled up to the store. It was a guy delivering newspapers. I decided to tell him our situation. I told him we were waiting on someone to come get us, but that it didn't look like they were coming.

He said he had a few more stops to make in the immediate area, then he would be heading to a town which was about halfway home for us. He would stop back by in a little while, and if we were still waiting, he would give us a ride as far as there.

So we froze for about another hour. Thankfully, the newspaper guy showed up and we rode in the back of a gutted out van for about fifteen minutes. At least we were closer to home. And there was heat. Until he dropped us off. It was probably about 4:15 by now. He let us out at a store that he said would open around 5:00.

When the store owner showed up, he let us in to use the phone. It was now a local call, so we called Hoss again. He was just getting back home. He said he had been driving up and down the road, but couldn't find us. Turns out he wasn't going far enough. He had been turning around just before he got to the store we had walked to. So anyway, we told him where we were now. And he showed up about fifteen minutes later and took us home.

The next day when Little Joe went back to get his car, the back window was broken and several items had been stolen.

"Ten years ago on a cold dark night, someone was killed 'neath the town hall light..."