Dead On My Feet 🦇😺 and I Hear the Four Horses Are Warming Up… Just in Case (Election 2020)

If you follow this little blog, you’ll know I coped with rather terrible medical news a few weeks ago by focusing on how this year I’d be hosting a Vampire’s Dinner Party on Halloween night.


This orphan finally used my parents’ Noritaki China dishware, glassware and silverware which years ago I salvaged from my childhood life.

Specifically, I found these items while going through dark, dusty, damp yet cobwebby spaces after my beloved dad died. 💔

A decade and a half earlier, when my mom was temporarily hospitalized, my dad hauled everything that remained from our life to an old family house in the country.

So a bunch of our material objects and items were then stored in country barns and sheds and also in the old country house’s basement.

After my dad’s death (cancer, you bastard), it was my responsibility to go through all of these spaces which I had not had a reason to explore before.

And, when I found these precious and violently sentimental items which had been previously housed in a lost world of fancy dinner parties and festive holidays and society luncheons…

I’m pretty sure I broke down.

And then I really had to decide if they were intrinsically valuable enough to restore.

Because they were GROSS. 😬

And I was very very very tired, in all the ways that a human organism can be tired, outside and inside and in the middle.

Yet, as a child, I was enamored with this red velvet-lined silverware box and its shining contents… and I couldn’t let my child self down.

So I carefully cleaned out the bugs and dirt and cobwebs from the red velvet-lined box, and then I shined the silver.

It certainly isn’t actual silver but let’s pretend.

So for the Halloween 2020 Vampire Dinner Party there were four courses which each had an accompanying cocktail/drink and, in short, it was a ridiculous amount of work.

I’d have more photos but my phone was being used to play “scary noises” in the entry stairway,

and my iPod was hooked up to a mini speaker and poised to play Chopin’s Nocturnes for the dinner music.

So I had no camera!

And it was a crazy amount of work and I had to remind myself that this dinner party was supposed to be


and, again, it is what had kept me focused on an immediate future when my future now feels incredibly uncertain due to the upsetting genetic results.

But my future was and is merely uncertain in the same way as every other person’s future. So…onward!

In any case, I baked Halloween cookies on Thursday (I realized I did not have powder sugar and had to improvise which quickly made it beer o’clock)

and I then cooked each course and set the table on Friday, the day before Halloween.

And, while doing so, I somehow managed to slam my dominant hand’s pointer finger in…

I have no fucking idea.

I was an automaton.

I slammed it in something while talking to my husband who was in another room and so, after doing so, I paused to take a sharp intake of breath, recorded the pain felt on a mental list of happenings which are real and notable, and then finished my conversation with my husband.

And I moved on.

However, at 3AM Friday night

(yes, the motherflipping WITCH’S HOUR ON HALLOWEEN MORNING)

I was woken by an intense throbbing pain in my finger.

It was crazy. I got up and stumbled into the bathroom and saw there was blood coming from under my injured pointer finger’s nail.

Holy cats, it’s a hematoma!



I briefly thought about cutting the tip of my finger off but realized that wasn’t going to happen for at least four solid reasons.

So, in order to redirect the blood flow, I raised my right arm and pointed my pointer finger straight up into the air.

Like I was calling the appearance of the Horses.

“There they are!”

And holy shit that worked! The pain subsided! I returned to bed and slept with my hand elevated and placed next to me on a pillow.

When the day of the party arrived, I continued to point my finger into the air but found it was rather difficult to suddenly lose a rather important member of my dominant hand when hosting a dinner party without any children or servants to help.

So I bumped my poor finger tip over and over and was sweating from the pain. However, WebMD informed me that sticking my finger in hot water would help kill the pain temporarily.

And that’s what I did.

At first, it felt like my finger was genuinely on fire.

Like I had stuck it into flames.

But, since I hadn’t, I just suffered through that delusion and eventually the feeling dissipated and the pain was alleviated.

Like magic.

That hot water alleviated the pain.

However, the formerly herniated disc in my lower back was also interested in joining the aggravated body party.

So I was in quite a bit of pain and looking forward to both the four courses of alcohol which I’d be serving that evening and also being a vampire who no longer experienced human pain.

Also, in addition to the body pain, my mind was electrified by the timing of everything. In fact, timing was essential late Saturday afternoon when reheating the food and getting all the candles lit and making the light show and music operational and, just when it seemed to be really truly coming together,

I accidentally knocked over the measuring cup pitcher of simple syrup I had premade.

And, since it was on the top shelf of the fridge, it poured all over every level of the refrigerator and then continued to pour right onto my vampire cloak and nylons and shoes and then the floor.

And then it was tracked throughout the formerly clean house.

Now the clean apartment was incredibly sticky.

This is why hosting a fancy dinner on Halloween is smart because a sticky floor could be interpreted as part of the holiday theme.

But finally the hors d’ouevres and shaker of gin gimlets were in place.

And then our amazing guests arrived and they were dressed as Morticia and Gomez Addams. 😻

And, as soon as the guests arrived, Morticia asked if I had a vase. She had a dozen red roses in her hand.

I led her into our kitchen and it is there she asked me for a scissors, right after handing me two roses which she told me to place in a vase of water.

“Is this a magic trick?”

She shook her head and then, making great dramatic flourishes with her hands, she cut the flower heads off the remaining ten stems.

A la Morticia Addams.

I’d have a photo or video of this but I had not yet fetched my phone from the entry stairway where it was still howling.

As she cut the rose heads, they fell to the kitchen floor.

And soon our kitchen floor was covered with rose petals.

It felt rather indulgent to step on rose petals all night but I also knew they would be there for life because of the simple sugar which now coated the floor of our apartment.

So now our floor was sticky with rose petals.

I deemed that an improvement.

And then everything was going well but I managed to drop the cocktail shaker (though just after I had drained its remaining liquid into a glass) onto the floor).

😺 Timing is everything.

Again, my right hand was handicapped.


shortly after dropping the shaker

So we then transitioned to the dinner table!

Last Thursday night. David and I had carved the pumpkins my uncle grew and gifted to us in September.

His jack o’ lantern looks devious and mine looks like it was carved by the resident of a ward in a mental institution.

In any case, the second course of the vampire dinner was accompanied by each guest’s choice of blood type.

For the record, the only way to get wine into the novelty blood bag is through the same tiny hole used to later pour the wine into a glass.

As an epileptic, I was very impressed by my creative use of a turkey baster for this delicate task.

Hours later, I had five bags of “blood” on a serving tray!


And nothing caught fire and the courses didn’t make anyone sick (to my knowledge) and the drinks were a success.

At least, they were a logistical success.

the alcohol was working 😂

And soon we retired to the drawing room for whisky and liqueur and a round of Midnight Party, which is a board game my mom and I played when I was child.

Because of my childhood and the sentimentality associate with this game, I think it’s the best.

Allow me to explain.

The game is all about a party which is hosted by Hugo the Ghost as it’s his birthday and he celebrates by eating all his guests and then carrying their bodies down onto the cellar steps.

But I tend to question my assessment that this game is cool when playing the game with other adults.

But whatever. We had fun.

In any case, at 1AM our guests ordered an Uber and the night came to an end. 🖤

And I was dead on my feet.

vampire joke

And the undead went to bed but it was a very fun time.

I had wonderfully merged a couple past lives with this present life and felt it was a successful homage to my parents so my goal had been achieved.

And, since it’s a pandemic, I really cleaned our apartment before our guests arrived, and then really really cleaned the floors until they shone and realized that getting simple syrup and rose petals out of a wood floor is not an easy task.

In any case, our apartment has never been this clean and I even moved some furniture around so that now there is a big empty room where David can set up a table for his work.

It feels extravagant to walk through an essentially empty room.

And all the Halloween decorations have been packed away.

Consequently, in this post-Halloween period, all we have to do now is wait to see who won the American presidency…

because perhaps the horrors are just beginning!

Hopefully not! 🖤🤞🥁 🥁 🥁 🥁 🥁 🥁

10 thoughts on “Dead On My Feet 🦇😺 and I Hear the Four Horses Are Warming Up… Just in Case (Election 2020)

    1. Awwwww sending so much love to you dear Gabi.😘 Please do watch that movie! Yay!

      And sigh. David found feces on our doormat in the morning. Sigh. Looked too fancy as the Addams couple for this hood I imagine. An act of hate.😫😣


  1. (Don’t tell the fuzzy skeleton, but I like your jack-o-lantern best.)
    AWESOME EVERYTHING, Lady! What a great party.
    Your friend, Morticia–what elan. THOSE are the details… (she cracked me up).

    Like you,
    I head to bed
    with equal measure
    of hope and dread.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Isn’t she wonderful? I adore her. 😂 Since there were four courses of cocktails and wine, we discussed how much we loved each other plenty that night. 😂

      Yay! You should see my psycho jack today… oh hey, I’ll post a photo!

      And your poem… indeed. No matter what, it is clear this country is Trump country. The fear, hatred, ignorance, cruelty, amorality, lying… all of it… that’s what and who America is.

      And it’s devastating.

      Liked by 1 person

    2. It actually wasn’t a poem, until I noticed that it rhymed and broke the lines.

      I looked at the NYTimes reported exit pole stats. The most telling? Trump’s constituency, unsurprisingly, falls heavily toward white evangelical christians. I, too, dispair.

      Upon noticing that Wyoming was 70% for Trump, I sent my very first ever tweet tonight: “@therealdonaldtrump, when you get out of jail, you should consider moving to Wyoming.” It gave me solace to stick a very small pin in a vast ego.

      Liked by 1 person

      1. Sigh. Yes. I’m a white evangelical and often despair at the actions taken by some who claim to hold the same beliefs. Uh, Jesus doesn’t like haters.

        Ahaha oh Wyoming… nicely done!!! I’ll have to find you on Twitter! Well done! I think he’ll have to move to Russia but he wouldn’t last long there.

        Someone on NBC streaming this morning gave a really nice analogy: We are on fire. We are astronauts, returning from space, reentering the atmosphere, and we are on fire. But we know this is just part of the process and the fire will extinguish and we will plop in the ocean, smoking and back on earth.💙

        Liked by 1 person

  2. Great post! Love the pictures and set up, and everyone looked so lovely! Now I feel like watching the Addams family 😂. Sorry about your hand but happy that the night was still eventful. Thanks for sharing with us.

    Liked by 1 person

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