When I was at Catholic elementary school, October 31 wasn’t considered Halloween by the nuns. It was All Souls’ Day. I don’t think that Halloween was considered evil, and we certainly weren’t forbidden to go out trick-or-treating. But October 31 was the day that we were supposed to pray for the Poor Souls in Purgatory. In other words, pray for the dead. No wonder Halloween became so creepy. I blame it on Mexico.

Catholics believe in purgatory. Well, perhaps I need to amend that statement. The Catholic Church believes in purgatory. I can’t speak for all Catholics. Though my non-Catholic friends will disagree, I believe in purgatory. I don’t believe it’s Hell Lite as we were taught in grade school. Both Popes John Paul II and Benedict XVI have stated that purgatory is not a place but a state of existence. I don’t know exactly what that means, but I think it confirms my belief. We have been saved by Jesus’ death and resurrection, but unless we have the heart and soul of Mother Theresa, after we die, we have (in Ricky Ricardo’s words) some ‘splainin’ to do. And in my grandmother’s words, we have to “make things right.”

I, of course, know no more than anyone else about what happens after we die. Still, it’s why I believe in the existence of what we call ghosts. It’s also why I’m convinced that shortly following my mother’s death, she came back as a small bird to tell Dad and the rest of us that she was okay. I’m serious. It happened.

But back to Halloween. I don’t know at what age kids stop trick-or-treating. My 14-year-old nephew Carter announced this year that he wasn’t going to trick-or-treat. His older sister Kenzie was flabbergasted. “No one loves candy more than you,” she told Carter. “THIS IS THE HOLIDAY AT WHICH YOU RECEIVE LOTS OF CANDY.” As of this writing, it remains unknown as to whether he will trick-or-treat.

In my formative years, there was definitely a cut-off date for going from house to house asking for candy. It wasn’t set in stone, but you were given dirty looks if you were any larger than a normal 10-year-old. I know this because one year my friend and I decided to go trick-or-treating despite the fact that we were 15 years old. We cut holes in sheets and called ourselves ghosts. We rang the doorbell, then got on our knees and used “small child” voices that fooled no one and said trick-or-treat. We got a bit of candy, but gave up when one person announced that we were much too old to trick-or-treat and we should go home. So we did.

Since reaching adulthood, I have dressed up for Halloween exactly one time. I attended a party for which I dressed up as a doctor, using my mother-in-law’s medical clothes (she was a nurses’ assistant). I didn’t like it then and I don’t like it now. It’s much easier to watch the kiddies trick-or-treat while drinking a martini, and finagle some candy from great nieces and nephews.

Which is what I’m going to do.

If you read my Wednesday post, you know that as I was driving down a major Mesa street, I saw a man walking along wearing plaid pajamas. He had on regular shoes and was carrying a small backpack, and he was entirely clothed in plaid pajamas.

The morning my blog posted, my brother sent me this photo…..

While this particular man is not wearing pajamas, the plaid of his, um, suit is the same as that of the man’s pajamas. The picture made me laugh, and it also made me wonder if this was a new plaid. I hope not, because I still haven’t gotten used to men wearing skinny suit pants.

That afternoon, my brother telephoned me.

“What’s wrong?” I answered me telephone, as I always does when he calls.

“You won’t believe what I just saw,” he said, laughing. “I saw the man you talked about in your blog this morning. He was walking down the street near Crisman and University.”

(That was, by the way, a considerable distance from where I had seen him the day before.)

We agreed that it had to be the same man. If not, it has become a fashion fad, which will not make me smile at all. As I’ve said many times, things are different here in the Valley of the Sun.

Have a great weekend.

Cool Down
A bit of cool weather finally hit the Valley of the Sun. When I say “cool,” I’m not talking coat-and-hat cool. But the temp was in the 50s when I awoke yesterday morning. In fact, sometime during the night, I woke up and realized that I was actually quite chilly with only my sheet and lightweight comforter. So last night I put an afghan on our bed, and it felt quite snuggly. Don’t get me wrong; I’m pretty sure warmer temps will return. But it felt good for a change. There is not a lot of variety in our weather in AZ, so we appreciate any changes we get.

Early and Often
Bill walked over to the mailbox yesterday and we leafed through what is always junk mail. We get virtually no first-class mail at this address. Frankly, these days we don’t get a lot of first-class mail at either of our addresses since bills come via technology and are mostly paid the same way. Anyway, we were both amused to see that Jen got an election ballot from the State of Arizona. She, of course, votes in Colorado because that is her primary address. Don’t anyone tell us that there is any problem with our election process! I asked Bill if, given the fact that it’s a statewide election and not a national election, could she actually vote in both states. He quickly said, “No, you can only vote once.” He paused for a beat, and then added wryly, “Unless, of course, you live in Chicago and are a Democrat.” Spoken like the boy who grew up on the south side of Chicago, right next door to Bad, Bad Leroy Brown.

Barkley
Bill has yet another doctor’s appointment this afternoon. This time it’s a bit of a drive, in Tempe, AZ. Not awful, but the appointments not until 4 o’clock, so we will undoubtedly be dealing with rush hour traffic. I suggested following the appointment, we go to a restaurant in that neck of the woods and have dinner, thereby letting the bulk of the commuters get home. We tossed around a few ideas, but have landed on a restaurant we really like called http://www.babykayscajunkitchen.com/Baby Kay’s Cajun Kitchen. We have been there a few times, mostly with Bec and her family. I was immediately reminded of one of our visits a number of years ago. We were sitting at a table and the door opened. I wasn’t paying attention, but my nephew Erik said quietly, “Isn’t that Charles Barkley?” He is hard to miss, and it was, indeed, the renowned former Phoenix Sun basketball player himself. My great niece Kenzie and great nephew Carter were there. Without a second thought, I jumped up, grabbed them by the hand, and dragged them over to Mr. Barkley. “Would you mind if I take a photo of you with my niece and nephew?” He very nicely agreed. I learned later from my brother that he had been known to throw someone out of the window when they asked a similar favor. I guess I was lucky…..

Ciao!

Yesterday Bill and I (along with an enormous number of other seniors who have newly arrived in Arizona) went to Costco. I’ve learned the hard way that going at 10 a.m., when they open — which is what I would do in Denver — is a bad idea. Instead, it is better to go in the afternoon. Lunch is over, so there are no more throngs of Baby Boomers eating samples instead of buying lunch. Of course, there is also a line at the Costco Food Court because $1.50 HOT DOGS. By 3:00, the seniors are well into pickle ball and/or cocktails.

Anyhoo, we were driving down one of Mesa’s main thoroughfares on the way to Costco when I noticed something quite odd. There was a man who appeared to be of Baby Boomer age, perhaps on the young side. Maybe in his early 60s. He was cheerfully walking down the street. What was odd was that he was wearing flannel pajamas. I’m not talking those flannel pajama bottoms that young people call grocery store and airline flight clothing. I’m talking red and black plaid pajama bottoms and a matching pajama top. In fact, in order to give you an idea of how odd it was, I’m going to share a photo of my son Court’s family a few Christmases ago. This photo isn’t odd, because, see above: It was Christmas…..

Yes, my friends. It was those pajama bottoms but with a matching button-down flannel top. And while it’s not odd to wearing plaid pajamas when Santa Claus is coming to town and you’re about to open presents, it is odd to be wearing plaid flannel pajamas when it’s 90 degrees out and you are walking down a public street.

Bill speculated that perhaps he was homeless and was wearing the only thing he owned. I don’t believe that to be true. The pajamas weren’t ragged like he had been wearing them for days. In fact, they looked freshly laundered. Nor did he seem to be wandering aimlessly like a man with dementia who had snuck out of his house when his daughter wasn’t looking. In fact, he looked to be walking purposefully to well, someplace. A sleepover?

One time when we were traveling somewhere, we were staying at one of those chain hotels that offer a free breakfast. Bill and I had just finished eating and were drinking the last unpleasant dregs of the hotel-that-offers-free-breakfast coffee. Around the corner comes a young man, maybe around 25 years old. He is wearing his pajamas and slippers and his hair was dramatically unkempt. By all appearances, he had rolled out of bed and immediately remembered that the hotel offered breakfast. It apparently didn’t occur to him that the breakfast room would require street clothes. I always wondered if he was as surprised to see all of the fully-clothed people as we were to see him. The manager promptly sent him back to his room to put on appropriate attire.

These two stories are obviously unrelated. Still, I am always one to try to figure out a story when I observe something unusual. I haven’t been able to come up with one for our pj-clad friend.

Day by day, little by little, Bill and I are getting settled in our AZ home. By the time we’re completely settled, it will be time to fly home for the holidays.

Of course, it doesn’t help that practically from the time our plane’s wheels hit the runway at Sky Harbor Airport in Phoenix, we have been going to various and sundry doctors. Ya got your dermatologist; ya got your dentist; ya got your podiatrist. When we haven’t been to doctor appointments, we’ve been handling prescriptions that keep being filled in Denver despite the fact that we’re 700 miles away in Mesa, AZ. Every time we walk into our neighborhood CVS Pharmacy, they give us a side eye and then pretend they don’t see us.

It seems like this year, getting our house ready for our long winters’ nap in AZ (December 25 through May 1) has been more complicated than usual. For one thing, we don’t switch our Dish Network account to AZ until we arrive at the end of December. It just seems easier to keep it in Denver until we’re here for the long haul. So when we’re here at this time of year, we use the antennae that Bill installed when we purchased this house in 2010. It’s worked like a charm. Until this year, that is.

I’m looking at you Dish, because you are at the seed of the problem. Dish Network users know that Dish and NBC are in a fight, and it’s apparently a fight to the finish. And I don’t know when the finish is. So I was looking forward to our antennae so that I could watch two of my favorite programs live: Sunday Night Football, and The Voice. (I hear you all tee-heeing, but I am loud and proud.)

We turned on our TV the first night we were here, and quickly learned that our antennae was not working. Apparently it had something to do with the strong winds that they had here this summer. Bill, being Bill, managed to get CBS (thank heavens, because BLUE BLOODS), ABC, and the local Fox network. Alas, NBC simply wouldn’t show up as a working station. I kept wondering how Dish could ruin my television life even on antennae. But yesterday morning, Bill set his mind to it and was somehow able to make NBC show up via the antennae. I asked him what he did, and as usual, he had no idea. “I just poke a lot of buttons,” is always his answer. Doesn’t matter because it’s there.

Mesa, AZ, has such a different feel to it than Denver, CO. It has a lot to do with the fact that the population — especially starting about now — consists so much of retired seniors. The seniors mostly come from the Midwest — Iowa, Indiana, Illinois, Wisconsin, Minnesota — and so they are also mostly conservative. I would guess if we traveled out of our safety zone into downtown Phoenix, there would be considerably more Gen X, Y, and Z-ers than here. But if we headed north to Scottsdale, even the old, rich white folks would be conservative.

On the roads, drivers must always be prepared for the last-minute decisions senior drives make about taking exits. They might be in the far left lane, but if they see their exit, they GO FOR IT. Speed limits on surface streets are much faster and there are more lights at night for those driving with cataracts. Of course, one must also be prepared for the inevitable Phoenix Flips — U-turns that are legal because most surface roads have islands.

But the weather is nice and we have been able to have our cocktail parties out on our patio and watch the sun set every night. Bill has been enjoying his twice-weekly boxing class. I have been busily filling up our larder with food to get us through this month.

I think we’re ready to sit back and enjoy our time here for a few weeks.

My sister Jen FaceTimed me on Friday and said, “The good news is we don’t have to watch the Broncos lose this weekend since they played last night.” She was right. We had a 9-10 day reprieve from the emotional rollercoaster that comes with being a Broncos fan as of late.

I enjoyed watching the Arizona Cardinals beat the Texans yesterday afternoon. At one point, the lowly Texans (who, frankly, make the Broncos look like Tom Brady is their QB) led by the confusing score of 5 – 0. A safety and a field goal early in the game was responsible for the odd baseball-like score. At the end of the game, which ended in a final score of 31-5 with the Cards being the victors, the announcers told the listeners that in the history of the NFL, there has never been a game with a final score of 31-5.

We keep track of everything these days. Stats are King, particularly in the Wide, Wide World of Sports. It’s apparently important to keep track of every football statistic known to man, from how many football games have had a final score of 31-5 to how many touchdown passes have been thrown by left-handed quarterbacks while standing on the heel of their right foot and passing to the left side of the field. And those stats are right at the fingertips of the announcers.

I don’t mind the stats since I’m a bit of a geek about statistics myself. I can’t keep track of things myself, but I like when others do. During March Madness, my great nephew Carter devised a statistical system to pick teams that would make Michael Lewis (of Moneyball fame) want to write a book about him. He’s not old enough to gamble, but when he is, watch out.

But speaking of gambling, is anyone but me annoyed by the gambling commercials which seem to run nonstop during football games? I don’t keep up with federal legislation since I learned from my professional career that, like sausage, you don’t want to see how laws are made. Apparently, however, something changed that resulted in legalized gambling made easy. You download an app, and you can bet on everything from who is singing the national anthem to how many interceptions the Denver Broncos’ QB will throw (no matter who it is) on any given day.

My religion doesn’t prohibit drinking or dancing or women wearing pants to church. It also doesn’t explicitly prohibit gambling. So it isn’t a religious objection that I have to the practice. I simply think that when we look back in a few years, the numbers of people addicted to gambling will have increased significantly. Why, you can place a bet while sitting in your chair with your smart phone in one hand and a Bud Light in the other. And who doesn’t want to be a Winner Winner Chicken Dinner?

Except winners are about as rare as Broncos left tackle Garret Bolles making it through a game without a holding penalty. Hey! I should bet on that.

By the way, the last time the Arizona Cardinals were 7 – 0, Gerald Ford was president.

Bill and I were both very hungry after he finished his boxing class yesterday. “How about Rudy’s BBQ?” he asked me. Rudy’s always sounds good, so it was a hard YES. We each had pork baby back ribs and split a side of beans. We were both very full for the rest of the afternoon.

Bill had a doctor’s appointment at 3. As we were driving home around 4, Bill asked what I was planning for dinner. I told him I had no plans because I was still full from lunch.

“How about dessert for supper?” he asked.

Worked for me. Andy’s Frozen Custard was right on the way home, and it was calling our name…..

Tomorrow is another day ripe for healthy eating!

Have a great weekend.

Birthday Greetings
We walked into our AZ house yesterday to find birthday greetings all over the place, thanks to my niece Maggie and her mother — my sister — Jen. Turning 79 isn’t quite as much fun as turning 7 or 9. Still, a birthday is a birthday. I had ordered Bill a black leather jacket to replace the one he left hanging over the chair at a restaurant several years ago. He has missed it ever since. I had it sent to Maggie’s house and asked her to bring it over so that Bill had a gift waiting for him. Bless her heart, she had wrapped the gift, and had even gotten him a big chocolate cupcake with a candle. We went out for dinner at our favorite AZ restaurant. All in all, he had more of a celebration than he expected.

Fly Away
We flew Southwest Airlines from Denver to Phoenix without much trouble. You might recall that Southwest was the airline that was canceling flights by the scores a week or so ago. We held our breath, but got on the plane with only a 30 minute delay. I know I’m getting crabby, but I swear the planes get smaller every time I fly. I literally couldn’t even pull my small carryon bag down the narrow aisle. A few weeks ago, when Heather and Joseph were visiting, a man sitting across the aisle from 12-year-old Joseph OD’d, and fell into the aisle next to Joseph. I swear, this aisle was so narrow that had that happened on this flight, the man would have had no room to fall into the aisle. He would have landed on someone’s lap across the way. Oy vey.

We Auto Be Ready to Roll
Most of yesterday was spent getting the Hyundai street legal. You might recall we left the car here in May when we flew home for the summer and fall. The plates expired in July, and unfortunately, an emissions test was required. We were unable, of course, to get that done since we were 700 miles away in Denver. I kept getting different answers from the DMV in Colorado. The first thing we did yesterday morning was drive to Discount Tire to fill up our deflated tires. We then went to have our emissions tested at an AZ site. The car passed with flying colors. Still driving on expired plates, we went to the nearest private motor vehicle place. In AZ, small businesses that have been approved by the AZ Department of Motor Vehicles may do certain specific car-related things. We walked into one of these places near our house, ignoring the sign that stated appointments were necessary. Fortunately, the place was empty, and the woman behind the desk was super nice. She didn’t know if she was allowed to issue temporary tags, but got on the telephone to see if it was possible. For 30 bucks, the answer was yes. I’m happy to say we are now street legal, and can calmly pursue getting our registration renewed.

Feet
This morning, I am meeting with yet another podiatrist to see about having bunion surgery. The last doctor told me my foot was bad enough that it would require surgery that would keep my on crutches for two months. I decided a second opinion was in order. If, in fact, this podiatrist agrees, at least I will be in my little ranch house that has no steps.