One gal's disappointment is another man's glee.

In all the years we lived in our little house in WA, we had maybe 2 trick-or-treaters. We were sure it would be different here, because our neighborhood just seems like a good trick-or-treating place - lots of houses, and not way out in the sticks. Besides, lots of people decorate their yards with jack-o-lanterns and bales of hale and blow-up ghosts and witches that look like they've flown straight into telephone poles, which is clearly a trick-or-treating magnet, don't you think?

We wanted to be prepared for droves of tiny princesses and race car drivers, so I bought two gigantic bags of candy from Costco and decorated the front door with orange & black stars and a very friendly spider ('There is candy here!' I wanted everyone to know.) We turned on the porch light and camped out right by the door in the dining-turned-exercise-room, good and ready for 700 doorbell rings.

Between the hours of 5 and 9:00, at which time I gave up, took a bath, and then took myself to bed, we had a grand total of five.

The next morning, my husband, unable to contain himself any longer, began hopping around and pumping his fists in the air. He'd been secretly hoping all along for just this kind of scenario, because what happens to left-over Halloween candy in this house? It's not given to the local dentist's office for $1/lb, I can tell you that.

He wore his pumpkin head to work on Friday, but I am married to a turkey :) 

Oh, and to add insult to injury: I lent my Lady Liberty costume to our friends' son, who later told his friends that he'd borrowed it from a 'middle-aged woman.' 

Such disappointment, such sting! 

Better luck next year to me :)