A bad Halloween combination

I just found a new twitter feed to follow. One that has had me laughing my butt off for the last ten minutes. FakeAPStylebook If you were a journalist, are a journalist or know anything about journalism, go follow it for some much needed laughter at yourself. And the AP. Which is perfectly acceptable.

Anyway, a post this afternoon sparked a memory for me:

My husband and I spent our first Halloween together in an apartment.  We had no idea if we’d get any trick-or-treaters, but just in case, on Halloween, we made a run to the store for candy.

We picked up a fairly large bag of mixed flavors of candy, and then we wandered around the store browsing. My husband remembered he needed new razor blades, so he grabbed those as well.

It wasn’t until we stood in line at the check-out that we realized we had bought that bad-guy combo: razor blades and candy. We literally half-wondered if anyone would raise an eyebrow at us as we checked out. Instead, no one was even remotely phased by it! My husband even pointed it out to the checker, and still she gave us a blank stare that said, “So?”

As we left, I still waited for security and cops to descend upon us. I waited for the questioning of why we would want to harm little children dressed up as goblins, princesses and purple dinosaurs.

But instead, there was nothing. I was half relieved, half alarmed. We could have been criminals in the making! Razor blades and Halloween candy! These are two things you shouldn’t be purchasing in tandem! Quick someone come and question me about my motives!

We climbed in our vehicle without anyone even giving us a second glance. We drove off with our bad combination in hand.

We didn’t have a single trick-or-treater that year. We gave a neighbor’s kids a bag of candy, and we left some pumpkins with candy in them outside a few other apartment doors. Our candy didn’t go to waste, and my husband was able to shave just fine. But still, every Halloween we laugh about our first shopping excursion and our accidental combination purchase. An amusing memory from our first year together.

As an aside, parents definitely have to be careful every Halloween, and I know I will be when its my turn to take my kids trick-or-treating. The thought of razor blades in candy makes me shudder, and I wonder why someone would do something so awful to someone so innocent. :(

It’s not just a house, it’s a home

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about what makes a house a home.

Having your name on the owner’s papers does not make a house a home.

Nor does having your name on the lease.

Receiving mail at a house does not make it a home.

Nor does staying there for a few days.

A home is much more. It’s a place you feel safe. It’s a place that makes you feel warm inside. It’s a place that makes you feel content and happy.

A home is where you make memories. Most happy, some sad. It’s where you laugh. It’s where you feel comfortable enough to cry. It’s the only place you want to be when you don’t feel well.

A home is where you welcome friends and family. Where you break bread around the table, or perhaps in front of the tv. Where you put up your Christmas tree and wait for that holiday with anticipation.

When you welcome someone into your home, you’re extending a level of intimate trust. That service guy, your best friend, your neighbor, your family… all of those people are afforded a glimpse into your home and your psyche. You decorate your home and arrange your furniture based on your likes and needs. It’s a part of who you are.

Houses I once called home through the years will forever tug at my heart a bit, thanks to the memories that were made there. I even sometimes dream about those houses, especially the one I lived in most of my life. But at this point, they’re someone else’s home and for me they’re just a house in which I once lived. The memories they once held now are held deep in my heart and memory, not within those walls.

The place I call home today holds my todays and tomorrows. It holds happy memories. Some day it’ll become like those other houses, and I’ll have another home to create and love. But until that time, I’ll care for my home and find comfort in it. To anyone else out there, its just another brick house they drive my on their way to work or to the store. But for me, when I pull into the drive way, I don’t see a house… I see my home.