Old habits die hard, I guess.
I’ve definitely never done a big, huge blow out like we did for M’s last month.
As for the holiday, I made the mistake of being born on instead of just hanging out in the womb for a literal ninety more seconds?
I do what I’ve always done.
I simply go with the flow.
I decorate because other people want to decorate – in this case other people being a goofy teenager who didn’t want to be the only house on the street withoutsomethingridiculously oversized in their front yard.
I hand out bite sized candy – from sunset until puck drop.
And I even wear something festive in the form of a headband – because I find costume shopping a lot like costume wearing, both being much less fun and much more stressful than cocktail dress shopping.
“Happy Halloween!” my big brother joyfully clamors from the other end of the video feed, clearly already settled in the opposing team’s luxury lounge for away coaches and traveling medical staff. “And of course, happy birthday, Gillyyyyy!”
I forgo getting out of my car in Thayne’s driveway to warmly express my gratitude, “Thanks, M.”
Healwaysmakes sure to say happy birthday right after happy Halloween.
We’re talkingimmediately.
He did it growing up.
Hasn’t changed.
Won’tchange.
Sure, today’s fun and festive, but he swears the best part of the day isn’t that it’s a holiday, it’s the fact his best friend was born.
That I was the real treat, not candy.
Thayne texted me something similar this morning about me being born – although he did wish me a happy bdaybeforehappy Halloween – which just added more guilt on top of the guilt buffet I’m just throwing back almost daily.
When Mari insisted I tell M soon, that was my plan.
It’s just so happened that when I sat down to move said plan from theory to actuality, there were a few soft spots, I wasn’t expecting.
Like having to meet with Bronny’s academic probation officer – as part of the new enrollee mandate.
Participating in the Slayer arranged Hockey Fights Cancer events which included sending the players off with “purple themed treat bags” to keep the fighting spirit on the road and delivering purple stuffed animals they’d autographed to the local children’s hospital when I got off of work.
Oh!
And let’s not forget an unannounced OSHA inspection that threw off my entire staff along with our patients as well as the newrugbypatients that came highly recommended to me by Hennington who is thinking about investing in the recently established team trying to gain its footing in the city according to my brother.
Again, it’s not that I don’t want M to know.
It’s just one of those things that needs to happen face to face over a brewskie and some fries and some wings because I have absolutely had my fill of “za” for at least the next six months.
M gently pats down his green neck accessory prior to asking, “You like my new tie?”
“You look like the coach of The Lucky Charms team.”
“The sale chick said it was stylish!”
“She said what you wanted to hear so you would get that hideous shit off her shelf.”
