Simple things become very complicated
Simple things become complicated.
How smug I was this summer to think I was way ahead of the Halloween costume game.
I had patronized a rummage sale at church, one to benefit the American Cancer Society.
And rummage sales at churches never disappoint when it comes to variety and value.
I go to them with an open mind and an open wallet, realizing it is there that I will find things I didn’t even realize I needed, which is why I discourage Better Half from going with me.
Second opinions are fine for a medical diagnosis or a furniture purchase, perhaps, but in the sea of “yard saleing” I don’t need anyone advising me to seek counsel or consult some other authority before a deal is done. Don’t even try to talk me out of all the bargains I’m determined to take home.
I spotted the Santa Claus suit early on. It was hung on a hanger, carefully covered in a dry cleaning bag. There was an accessories sack attached. The green price tag pinned to it warranted a second, yes, a third and even fourth glance.
Wow! What a steal, I thought, not really needing a Santa Claus suit at that particular moment and feeling a bit holiday rushed at the thought of December when we weren’t even quite at the mid-year mark.
But then I thought, great Earth, yes, Halloween! The church’s trunk-or-treat event! Dress up as Santa! How much easier could it get?
And I have plenty of Christmas this and that and the other to decorate the car.
I bought the $5 Santa suit in pristine condition, well aware the only thing missing was a beard. I would have plenty of time to remedy that. In the words of Scarlett O’Hara in “Gone with the Wind” — “I’ll think about that tomorrow.”
Well, tomorrow has come, several times around actually, as Halloween approaches, and I realized I still needed a beard.
I tried to think if there was anyone in my circle of family, friends, acquaintances and Christmas enthusiasts who might have a Santa Claus beard I could borrow.
I shopped around, thinking, hey if stores already have Christmas stuff out, surely there’s a Santa Claus beard somewhere on a shelf.
I shopped around some more, thinking, hey if stores have Halloween outfit stuff out, surely there’s a Santa Claus beard on a shelf somewhere.
I mentioned my beard-desperation situation to Better Half.
Ever supportive, he offered several suggestions:
¯ Grow one.
¯ Go clean shaven.
¯ “I’ll make you one.”
The latter offer is one he always extends when I need something I can’t find or he’d rather that I not buy that something immediately, like a Santa Claus suit.
It’s getting close to Halloween, and I’m waiting on that homemade beard.
Ho. Ho. Ho.
(Kiaski, a resident of Richmond, is a staff columnist and community editor for the Herald-Star and The Weirton Daily Times. She can be contacted at firstname.lastname@example.org.)