The cutest pepper I know:
Husband’s magnum opus:
. . . and again with flash:
And the only photo of your hostess that will ever appear here (except maybe for other photos involving masks and wigs):
Fun was had, and there may have been gingerbread. And pumpkin bread. And perhaps beer.
I was generally unimpressed with the costume choices of our trick-or-treaters. We had a whole lot of witches, princesses and pirates, several queens in red velvet, and the usual boys in gory masks. There were quite a few Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, and some plain old ninjas. One cowboy, one Raggedy Ann, and one four-year-old Wendy, with her father fully decked out as Captain Hook.
I was appalled by one eight-year-old who showed up in a midriff-baring, skintight, silver pop star costume, complete with earpiece and microphone. Generally, though, I was relieved to see the little girls choose cute and scary over sexy. Not like they didn’t have enough options if they had decided to go that route.
So we watched some not-too-scary movies (Beetle Juice!) and hurled candy at passing children. And life was good.