Halloween, like most holidays, has far too many parts to it. Every time I think it is finally over, there is another excuse for copious photographs and activities. The latest of these was a "Trunk-or-Treat," (or, as Sissy calls it, Trick or Trunk) which is not to be confused with Trick or Treat. We all got dressed up in our costumes, including tights, which were tight. I have been voicing distaste with tight clothes lately. The clothes are not uncomfortable, but they are tight. Apparently, tights are inherently tight. How was I supposed to know? We all went to the church but, instead of worshiping, we ate food and paraded around as people other than ourselves. I enjoyed being Ba'Ma', but did there need to be so many pictures of it?
We then went outside and walked from vehicle to vehicle, asking for candy. I held Dada's hand, dragging my bag behind me. When we came to each trunk, I relinquished Dada's hand so I could hold my bag out in front of me. I never stood too close to people, and while I never appreciated them reaching out to me, I always quietly thanked them when treats were placed in my bag. This often led to people nearly falling out of their trunks in attempts to give me treats, but perhaps they should not have been so direct. I know not why it was called Trunk or Treat, as both were involved, not one or the other. I was allowed one choc'cha that night, and a pop the next day. I enjoyed both. I will suffer through more of this seemingly eternal holiday if it means more treats.
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