2 little monkeys jumping: Halloween & Dia de los Muertos

Well, we survived our first Trick-or-Treating! Just barely. Oh, it was touch and go all day with the pre-schooler whose costume had been very adamantly a BAT for weeks before, but who changed his mind, as pre-schoolers do, like five minutes ahead of departure time to a CAT, and so ended up with the lamest cat costume in all of creation. Thank goodness for liquid black eyeliner and papa's big black t-shirt. It ended up fun, though I have told Paul that Halloween is his provence from here on out.

This is not Josephine's costume. She did have one, and I swear she wore it--it was a pumpkin one-piece with a hat and booties--but she was literally bursting out of it (the hat didn't come near to fitting), so I took her out of it almost immediately and neglected to capture it on film. Bad mama.

On Saturday, we were invited to the home of our new friends Kathy & Mike (and sons Gabe, 4, and Nat, 2) to celebrate Dia de lost Muertos, or Day of the Dead. It's a Mexican festival that memorializes deceased friends and family through ritual food and the building of an altar replete with pictures and items related to their spirits.

The altar

My dad and the Japanese snack sticks he used to bring us from his travels

Paul's grandmother, Helga, and her dogs. The owl behind the picture lived in his grandparents' house.

Marmite, a cousin to Vegemite which my dad would have eaten on his travels to Australia. (It's totally vegan yeast extract, yet tastes almost exactly like beef bouillon!) That's the golden duck he brought back from somewhere and the book reminds Paul of the "kooky" side of his grandparents.

These are my friends, Jim and Gerry, both of whom tragically took their own lives. Jim was Columbian and made the best coffee I had ever had (before meeting Paul), so I've put out some beans for him. Gerry died last year and when I think of him, I remember his incredible generosity in paying for one of my grad school classes back in Connecticut when I didn't have the means. I miss them both very much.

These are my grandmothers--Josephine on the left and Harriet, on the right. Josephine is, as you all know, alive and well in Florida, but Harriet died ten-ish years ago from cancer. That is her bottle of Chanel No. 5 that I have kept all these years.

My dog, Mandy. Good, good dog. That's a marigold from my garden--one of the last ones of the season--in front of her. Marigolds are the traditional flower of this festival.

This is the huge pan of chicken mole Kathy and I made. Or, assembled, really, since the sauce came from a jar. I love Wegmans! We've promised to make it ourselves from scratch one day when the kids are a little older.