I’ve yet to answer the door as Wonder Woman
Listened to the show Saturday and it was not bad. I was sitting in the car with the engine running while the kids went up and down the streets trick-or-treating. The sun was setting and there were throngs of people out in costume — not only kids but adults, too, dressed up in their Halloween best. I saw the usual witches and ghosts and princesses and pirates, but then a six-foot-tall sumo wrestler walked by and that was something. There was a penguin and a rock star, Mother Nature and the Sun, and some odd greenish blob thing that got a bit close to my car.
I used to dress up every year for Halloween. I’ve been a gypsy and a mummy, a French maid and a Greek goddess, Betty Crocker and a witch. I haven’t gotten into it in recent years mainly because by the time Halloween rolls around I haven’t had time to pull together a decent costume, and on the day itself my time is spent getting the kids all made up and frosting cookies and driving from trick-or-treating to party to home and back. Hardly a good excuse. There’s something rather exciting about dressing up, and a person really ought to take advantage of the holiday to explore his or her alter ego, dark side, or plain old curiosity. I’ve always wanted to dress as Cleopatra or Scarlett O’Hara; I’ve yet to answer the door as Wonder Woman.
Frankly, I don’t dress up much in general. I prefer jeans and black boots with a heel and a nice pullover V-neck to a dress any day. I go for earth tones — grays, browns, burgundy — with a bit of white here and there. More for practical reasons than any. When you have children, anything to speed up the routine is helpful. The thought of silk or sequins is appealing, but it gives me a bit of stress. There’s the issue of wrinkles, and can it go into the washing machine? Of course, I don’t like the thought of being boring, and that’s where underwear comes in. But that’s a whole other story.
I think, perhaps, next year I will plan ahead. Maybe I’ll seek out and find that Wonder Woman costume. Or I’ll wear a gown of brocade, be Marie Antoinette, and serve cake at the door. Or I’ll really go for it and buy myself a silver sequined dress, silver heels, and fashion a hat of tinsel and glitter and go as a Sparkle. A Glimmer. A Glisten. Something mysterious and unusual on a day made for just that.
Sugared French Toast
This recipe goes way back to my childhood when my mother served up platters of sugary French toast and bacon on cold autumn mornings.
1 loaf buttermilk or thick white sliced bread
Milk or buttermilk
Crack 8-10 eggs into a large bowl, depending on how many people are eating. (I figure 2 eggs per person.)
Add 1 dollop (about 1/8 cup) milk or buttermilk per egg.
Whisk until blended.
Pour 2-4 T oil in a nonstick skillet or frying pan. Heat on medium heat.
Dip bread into egg/milk mixture, both sides. Place on pan and fry on both sides until crispy and center appears cooked. Place on plate covered with a mixture of 1 cup sugar and 1-2 T cinnamon. Coat both sides of toast with cinnamon sugar.
Serve with or without butter and syrup.