The first step in building your own cemetery (besides obtaining a body) is to collect sticks of various lengths and widths. The problem with living in a virtually treeless state is that it's impossible to find sticks, so we drove over an hour this morning to find the nearest trees in order to turn the front yard into our very own Halloween graveyard.
During the drive we listened to The Trading Post, which is a show on the local radio station where people call in to tell the DJ what they have available to sell to the listening public. It's so awful and boring it's great. At the beginning of the program you are thinking to yourself that you are not interested at all, but after a few minutes you are envisioning all the wonderful things you could do with a half gallon of yellow interior paint, a bucket of clothes pins, a screen door without a screen and a .22 rifle. The power of suggestion is very strong, and this show survives on that principle. You don't NEED an '87 Chevy carburetor kit, but now you desperately want one. Today I ended up wanting/needing a chandelier, which I repainted black in my mind and made it a Halloween decoration. I was so wrapped up in imagined renovations that I didn't write down the contact phone number, so it was all in my head which is just as well.
When we arrived at the nearest wooded area we pulled over on the side of the road because the turn off to the campground is still closed from the fires that happened there this summer. The sign naming which road we were parked next to was right in front of the car and when Jordan looked up he said "42F. Everybody remember where we parked." We are such city people.
Everyday I am amazed at the differences in personalities between the boys. Jack is cautious and organized, while Mitch is the very definition of pell-mell. Today the difference was in-your-face apparent when we got them out of the car in the canyon. Mitch immediately starts running through the trees, pulling off his clothes and screaming "Woo-hoo!" I'm not exaggerating at all, the term 'getting back to nature' apparently translates into 'streaking in the woods' for a two year old. It was like we had released him back into the wild and he couldn't wait to shed civilization forever. Meanwhile, Jack attempted to organize nature by collecting branches and rocks and sorting them into piles and lines. They both love getting dirty though (they are boys after all), so we spent the rest of the afternoon throwing rocks into the creek. When it was time to go, I felt like Marty Stouffer on an episode of Wild America trying to get Mitch back to the car. I could have used some leather gloves at the very least.
Another example of the boys personalities; on the way down the canyon Jordan took a curve a little fast and Jack cautioned "Whoa! Careful." while Mitch yelled "YEE-HAW!". He's never getting his driver's license. His wife can drive him around for all I care, but he's not to be trusted behind the wheel of a car. Or even a lawnmower. Ever. I'd give Jack the keys tomorrow.
We made a stop at a desert museum on the way home and saw the exhibits of snakes, turtles, etc. Since the boys had been good, we let them pick a reward from the toy section; Jack chose a 4 ft. plush snake and Mitch chose a bird that chirps when it's butt is squeezed. The boys held them and cherished them all the way home but when we stopped for lunch, they grabbed their silverware and immediately started autopsies on the poor things. I've never seen such fickle devotion as these two had for their supposedly beloved toys, and they instantly reminded me of that mean boy on Toy Story- what was his name? Sid? The one that operated on and amputated his toys. I reassured myself that surely my kids can't be that bad, but then I remembered that Sid's mom probably deluded herself with that same fantasy so I made a mental note to find a therapist as soon as possible. For me as well as them.
I love running naked in the woods days, because afterwards the kids basically put themselves in bed for their naps. When we got home, Jack took off his shoes and went straight to bed, waiting for me to tuck him in. When I came out of his room, I found Mitch standing next to the pack n play, holding his squishy bird. So while they were sleeping, Jordan and I assembled our crosses and made the cemetery. It looks great, and we had several people laugh and wave as they went by, so I'm pleased with the results of our efforts. If you have a dirt yard, I say you have to do what you can to make it work for you, and halloween is the only time of the year that things really go your way. I wonder what people would think if I left it up all year, though.
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