The Great Pumpkin or, When the Frost is on the Punkin'

Happy Halloween! Yes, it's that lovely day of the year when it is okay to dress up like fools, knock on strangers' doors and gorge on candy corn. American consumerism at it's best.

In honor of the spooky holiday, I have composed a brief list of "to-do's" to make your Halloween all the more special:

1. Watch Silence of the Lambs and perfect your impersonation of Buffalo Bill's voice. ("You 'bout a size 14?") You will win 'em over at the Halloween party.
2. Eat nothing but candy, all day long. Might I suggest Junior Mints for breakfast, Snickers for lunch (you'll need something that really satisfies) and Kit-Kat's for a pre-trick-or-treating snack.
3. Be imaginative when thinking up your costume. You'll get extra points for originality. However, make sure it's something that doens't need constant explaining. A character from Chaucer's Canterbury Tales, for instance, might not be the thing, unless you are an English professor going to a party of coworkers.
4. Use dry ice as much as possible.
5. Do not, I repeat, Do Not Give Out Raisins! The children in your neighborhood will hate you and you will be come "Old Mrs. or Old Mr. So-and-So" for the rest of your life.
6. Forget the traditional Jack-O-Latern and carve your pumpkin into the face of Lindsay Lohen or some other scary Hollywood-type.
7. Turn your office into a scence from Psycho using stuffed birds and screeching violins.

And remember, don't eat Smartees from strangers.

The Unwritten Rules of Work Voice Mail, According to May or May Not

You May:

• Be Cheerful
• Be Concise
• Give an alternate number or way to reach you

You May Not:

• Give a 20 minute dissertation on your whereabouts at every moment of the day because you are that important
• Omit your name and organization
• Give 10 different numbers or ways to reach you, again because you are that important
• Go over 30 seconds, leaving your caller with nothing to do but sit there and wait while you ramble on for 2 minutes when all they want to do is leave a 5 second message.

Back Home Again in Indiana

Following a powerful week of rebuilding in Gautier, MS, I have composed a short list of the things in my daily life that I am v. thankful for:

• Showers that are both hot and allow you to control the temperature. Oh, and ones in which you don't have to wear shower shoes.
• A house without black mold and that has my possessions in their place, instead of strewn about as if they were in a washing machine.
• A bed. Not a cot, a bed.
• Food that is not fried. Sorry, I'm a Yankee thru and thru.
• Bathrooms that flush. Whoever invented the "Port-O-Pot" was a fool. Or maybe its those of us forced to use them that are the fools.
• My non-manual-labor job. My desk is going to look so good tomorrow.

Besides the lack of creature comforts, the trip was an amazing experience. Rebuilding is going to take years, but the spirit of the people we met in Mississippi is as it has always been--generous and warm.

A few pictures from the trip:

There used to be a house behind this mailbox. In the back you can see the gulf.

A house a bit in from the gulf with items still left on the bookcase, despite the fact that the waves broke down one brick wall, washed in, and washed out another wall in the house. Our little home away from home, Tent City.

To Be Continued...

I'm leaving tomorrow at a horrifically early hour to go spend a week in the swamps of Mississippi. So, May or May Not will be ghostly silent for a week, as I am not so dedicated as to haul a laptop along with my sleeping bag, 2 gallons of deet and knee-high rubber boots.

Stay tuned for an all new fresh posting next week. (I know, I'm so WB).

It's getting hot in here. Wait, it's just me.

No, I'm not Nelly. But I am recovering from days of high temperatures and other lovely flu-like symptoms. During the last few days of groggy TV watching, I'm discovered that I actually would rather be at work than watch daytime dramas. Shocking, I know.

In other news, I've finally learned how to pronounce the name of the town in Mississippi (again, you're all spelling it out loud--it's just a fun word) that I'll be visiting in two short days, Gautier. Now, maybe you francophiles out there will instantly come to the right conclusion, but for those of us who took Spanish for three years, it looks, at best, like Goat-ear. To my relief (and amazement) it is actually, Go-shea. Much better. Brings up visions of overpriced shea butter and other treats at Sephora.

In Indiana, it'd be Goatear. After all, Versailles is Vur-sailes, Milan is My-lan and occasionally Brazil is Bray-zil. Apparently our Hoosier ancestors didn't get out much.

Stop, Drop and Roll

During my morning commute, I was thinking of times in our adult lives when we are instantly and often hysterically, converted back to small children. So, for this morning's Show and Tell, I thought I would share a few:

• The Fire Drill: Upon hearing the clanging bells, I am instantaneously a third grader once again. Trying to hide my slight panic, I try to cooly proceed to our appointed meeting point, all the while frantically trying to remember whether or not I got my car keys out of my office in my haste to evacuate.
• Airport Security: Why is it I always feel as though I'm going to get in trouble somehow? How has a psuedo-cop TSA outfit suddenly put me back in the days where your principal was the scariest person you knew? I love how we all meekly shuffle through the line while keeping our eyes averted as if to silently scream "Not me! Please don't pick me! I'm innocent, I swear!"
• Doing Lunch: While we all hate to admit it, the grown-up "grab a bite to eat" at a new workplace is ever as scary as the lunchroom on the first day of school. You don't know who to ask to sit by, who will think going to lunch is for pansies, who will match your dining tastes and, who will be your work friend (not to be confused with your friends outside of work).

Now, if I could only figure out how to bring coloring books into the boardroom.

Nickname = Trouble Ahead

While watching SNL this morning on TiVo, I came to a sudden realization: all of Bushie's cohorts with nicknames are the ones most troubling to us progressives. For example:

• The Hammer---currently heading for the Texas hills, this one-time frontman has come to a unfortunate political end. Darn those pesky ethics.
• The Blade---currently subjecting Hoosiers far and wide to his unfortunate brand of budgeting. Namely, that the budget comes before Hoosiers. Money before men, so to speak.
• Dub-ya himself---while this is probably not a nickname Bush himself owns up to, doesn't it just warm the heart to say? Aww, shucks, he's just a good 'ol boy from Texas. Who also doesn't like those pesky ethics.

And who says SNL has gone down the toilet?

The Great Outdoors

So in a little over a week I am leaving for the swamps of Mississippi (I know you all just spelled that in your head while reading it, it's fun, isn't it?) to help with the rebuilding effort after Katrina. I mention this, not to pat myself on the back, but because of a rather startling realization that I had last night: I don't like camping.

While the thought of living in a "Tent City" for a week at first gave me lovely visions of Mother Teresa and Calcutta, I've since come to the conclusion that it will be like a Prebyterian Woodstock. Without the music, but surely with the mud and bird-sized mosquitos. Being a child of the 80s, I've never wanted to go to Woodstock, as hemp smells funny and I find showering to be pleasant.

So, in the coming week, I am girding the loins, so to speak (that's an awful phrase, btw) and buying my weight in batteries so as to have as many of the comforts of home as possible.

Did I mention I won't be able to charge my cell phone? Heaven help us all.