Every year, as the leaves begin to turn and crunch, crunch, crunch under my feet, I find myself in a wildly significant, all consuming search for the most epic Halloween costume. Now this is no laughing matter (though I am quietly sniggering now as I write this) for Halloween is ever important in my family. It is celebrated with gusto and gore.

We take weeks turning our 130-year-old family home into its true haunted state (complete of course with graveyards, spider webs, hanging men, carved pumpkins and of course—a witches den). So, as you can see, my costume represents more than me—it represents The Hill—it represents the haunted house of Snohomish—and more importantly, my family.

In the past I have turned myself in to the obvious—dressing as a vampire or a witch—a pirate even. In fact, I have been a pirate/ghost/mouse—yes, all at the same time—which was quite the feat! I have also gone out on a limb in hopes of being a one of kind—one year I was wind-up doll. And just last year, I came as a part of trio of mad-hatters.

I ponder greatly. I wait for inspiration.

This year, I may or may not be able to afford the sojourn back home to Washington, which could be why I am having difficulties finding the vision to create an amazing and memorable costume. Yet, even if I can’t be there, I would hate to let them all down. So I jot ideas on paper. I dig thru my closet for something. Anything to pop. Nothing yet. I wait for inspiration…