Super Freak, Super Freak, I'm Super-Freakaaaayyyyy

Halloween is in full-swing in our house. And I mean FULL-SWING, people. I was fortunate enough -- depending on your perspective -- to marry a man whose love for this particular holiday is so deep, it's almost demented. And though he's been banned from transforming our home into a Halloween factory until after my birthday (September 22, just so you know) that doesn't stop him from standing out in the garage for weeks prior, licking his lips and dreaming of the day when he'll get to unpack ALL THOSE BOXES.

And so, promptly on September 23rd, he went to the garage, and returned with box after box after box after box, to begin the weeks-long ordeal we refer to simply as "decorating". Having been raised in this environment, you know the boys are just as nuts about Halloween as their father. And as the boxes streamed in from the garage, the clapping, dancing, shouting and jumping in circles was in high gear. Their anticipation was palatable, and trying to contain them until everything was in the house was a little like standing at the base of a waterfall and trying to hold it back with your hand. Impossible. Eventually, we gave in and let them start unpacking. The cardboard was ripped open, packing materials were flying, bats and ghosts were everywhere. Rubber masks came out, chains, dancing skeletons, witches cauldrons, the works......... The frenzy..... Oh, the frenzy.











And then, the last box. Gibson was the one who got to it. He tore open the top and peered in. Squealing with delight, he paused to take in the glory of what he'd discovered. "It's her!" he shouted. "My girl! My little cutie! MY HALLOWEEN GIRLFRIEND!!!!!!!!" He reached gingerly into the box and carefully extracted his treasure. And suddenly, there she was in all her well-worn, much-beloved splendor: The Dancing Bride of Frankenstein.

We had gotten her as a gift, back when Gibson was 2, and to be frank, she really wasn't Mike's type. He considered getting rid of her. She was just a little too campy for his taste. But he was busy decorating, so he'd put her on the fireplace hearth to get her out of the way. Which is where Gibson found her. And then spent the entire rest of the month alternately staring at her, dancing to her pre-recorded "superfreak" song, and looking up her dress. (A pattern that hasn't changed in the last 4 years.) He'd carry her around the house, sleep with her at bedtime, and still, she persevered. It was, and still is, true love. And in the name of good Halloween spirit, I'd like to share her with you. So here she is. Considerably worn, and worse for the wear, she's like a Halloween version of the velveteen rabbit - minus the scarlet fever. God help us if she ever comes to life.

Happy Halloween!