It’s the holidays that really mark time when you’re a kid. And Maia, being eight, is at that intersection where the magic and mystery of the seasons is just beginning to give way to the reason of adulthood.
So holidays are important to her (which makes them important to us) but this whole sailing thing is putting a crimp in her joy.
So the pressure is on to make Hallowe’en special. We already messed up Thanksgiving and no amount of day-after-pumpkin-pie could repair the damage done when we failed to produce a turkey. Even though we had a nice dinner with good friends the absence of a bird and its trimmings was definitely noted and will probably come up in some future therapy session.
The complication with Hallowe’en didn’t come with not knowing when it would occur (Maia started counting it down right around our non-Thanksgiving) the complication came with the fact we didn’t know where we were going to be for the occasion - which made it hard to plan. Until yesterday afternoon our fate was in the hands of our riggers. But this morning, after signing a cheque that had quite a few numbers in it, we were released into the wilds with a mast that could withstand just about anything.
But today is the day before Hallowe’en and our next planned anchorage is two days away. See the problem?
So despite the fact that we’re parked at a dock beside a loud bridge and across from a cement plant, right in the heart of an industrial district – we decided being in a place we sort of know is better than going to a place we're clueless about. So we’re staying put and we’re going to make this work.
We have pirate costumes – thanks to the nearby Sally-Ann (actually we have a bunch of new clothes – this place has the best thrift stores ever!) And we have a pumpkin, which was carved with a ghoulish glee. The pumpkin seeds are roasted and the boat has a festive look. I've found an outdoor hybrid ice rink that’s having a Hallowe’en skating party (which is puzzling, but we’re game) and after our skate we’re going to parachute into the closest posh neighbourhood for trick-or-treating.
Hopefully, despite my worry about the holiday (which Maia claims is the best of the year) not being just right, a little ghastly enchantment will come our way. And maybe, with a bit of luck, childhood magic will soften the rough edges of our efforts and Maia will remember the year she went trick-or-treating in a strange and random neighbourhood with just her parents at her side as a good one.
If not we’ll send her to our friend’s place for their party next year – that should make up for it.
On a completely different topic, my other blog for a green living magazine called Granville just won Best Blog at the Canadian Online Publishing Awards, so feel free to pop over and check it out.