Bibbity-Bobbity-Boo!

My daughter is going to be Cinderella tonight. Curse you, Disney and your army of evil marketers! Curse your successful remarketing of your tired, old characters under the "Princesses" conglomeration! And doesn't it tell you something that your tired, old, outdated, and hopelessly out-of-touch characters are more popular than your hip, new, politically correct new ones? There's a reason why "Lilo" costumes are not flying off the shelves! And don't even think about Pocahantas! The last Disney heroine with any staying power was Jasmine, or Belle--who, coincidentally, round out the "Princesses" pantheon (and not very successfully, I might add. Belle, Jasmine, and Ariel bask in the shadows of their time-honored sisters Cinderella, Aurora, and Snow White).

Oh yeah. I was going to talk about Emma's costume. Excuse me a moment while I wipe the spittle off my monitor...

Emma's glass slippers (purchased on sale from the local Disney Store, thus inspiring the above rant) were too big. Fortunately our household is not quite adjusted to the end of Daylight Savings, and we were all up on time this morning. Armed with one of my wife's larger needles, I was able to punch new holes in the ankle strap so they'll buckle on tighter.

Both the older kids are wired. I pity my wife, unless she can get them to calm down. If it were up to the kids they'd both have come to work with me this morning, as they're completely psyched about the company trick-or-treating at 3:30 this afternoon. Emma wanted to go trick-or-treating before breakfast. It was tempting. We probably wouldn't have been very eagerly accepted, but we'd probably come away with much healthier fare. "Ain't you a little early, kid? Okay, let me see what we've got... Wanna bagel?" They'd probably say yes, and be just as thrilled as if they'd gotten a 1 lb. block of Hershey's.

Walter is going as a "tractor man," which consists of a hard hat, plaid shirt, overalls, and work boots. I'll be surprised if my wife gets the boots off of him today.

I'm looking forward to getting Halloween over with so Walter can sleep better. He's the more sensitive of the two older kids, and has been struggling with all the monsters that show up in stores, on billboards, and on television this time of year. Even the Muppet Show disturbs him. I'm hoping Santa Claus will be a little easier on his nerves. But we'll see.

It's our first Halloween in our new neighborhood. We have no idea how many kids show up in this area. I hope we estimated well, as the only thing worse than running out is getting stuck with too much. I know what you're thinking. Trust me, it's not worth it. "A moment on the lips, six months of trying to get the triglycerides level back down."

Meanwhile, a big Happy Birthday to my dad! He was born right after the big stock market crash that started the Great Depression (Of course we always tease him that it was his birth that caused it). I suspect in Ray Bradbury's eyes that makes him old enough to be a time machine, just like Col. Freeleigh in "Dandelion Wine."

Of course Ray Bradbury's eyes are 85 (not today, but recently), and a bit of a time machine himself. And one of the few authors whose very existence irritates me, as he both inspires and discourages me as a writer. I'll never be as good as him, and dang it all if I don't want to be. Other writers I know I could be as good as, and others may be good, but I would never want to write like them. Bradbury turns words to chocolate, and at best I'll only ever produce rootbeer barrels.

But we were talking about my dad. My dad is one of those people who has lived a colorful life, but you don't realize it until much later. He was in the army in Austria while it was still jointly occupied by the Soviets, the English, and the Americans. He nearly married an Austrian. He worked summers in Yellowstone Park during college. He nearly drowned when he was still a baby. He was very nearly a farmer. His teaching career lasted only a little longer than mine.

He worked three jobs for much of my growing up years to keep us all fed. And because of a few personality quirks he's gone largely unappreciated by us kids for a long time. There's a saying along the lines of "When we are children our parents know everything. When we become teenagers our parents know nothing. When be become adults we're amazed by how much our parents learned since we were teenagers." I'm afraid there's one more stage that I'm at least guilty of: When we finally learn that we've been living with greatness for years and never recognized it.

Happy Birthday, Dad. I love you.