In Imitation of Un Petit Pain

On Halloween, Old Baguettes should be answering doorbells and doling out treats, but I've never paid much attention to what I "should" do. I'm going to dress up as a witch and party.

About a week and a half ago, a friend took me to a sporting goods store to check out Nordic poles. He was tired of watching me bend over my walker, ruining my posture as I inched along. From the neck down, I was beginning to look like the clone of the hunchback of Notre Dame. At my friend's request, a salesman estimated my height and handed me a pair of Nordic poles. I snatched up those poles and began schussing up and down the aisles between the racks of socks, mittens, and water bottles. I took to those poles like the skier I've never been. I won the inside slalom, and those poles are now mine. Like all skiers clutching pole handles, I now tote my stuff in a red fanny pack and a sling backpack. My walker is in the closet, and the top of my head is now parallel to the ceiling instead of perpendicular to the floor. I feel like the Young Petit Pain I once was instead of the Old Baguette I am. (I am, of course, referring to the outer, not the inner me.) Thank you, friend.

Now, I will be going to another friend's annual Halloween party tonight. There are parties, and then there are PARTIES! This will be a PARTY. Thank you, friend number two, for inviting me.

I will go the party dressed as a good witch, the kind of witch you'd bring home with you to meet your mother. My costume will be, well, a bit odd. My hat will be black and shaped like a traditional witch's hat, but it's decorated with black feathers and strips of silver ribbon. I'd never have found such a fabulous hat, so I must thank friend number three for discovering it for me. Instead of being accompanied by my cat, I will have a reindeer and a polar bear that friend number four sent me from Norway. Thank you, friend number four. Good witches don't dress entirely in black, so I'll wear the wonderful sweater from Norway friend number five brought me when she cruised there with Garrison Keillor. Thank you, friend number five. Instead of a broom, I'll be carrying my Nordic poles. Thank you, friend number one. (Friend number one gets thanked twice because I have two poles.) I may wear my red fanny pack, or I may leave it in the bedroom with my coat. I haven't decided yet. As a good witch with visible ties to Norway, I will have a most appropriate name: Julian of Norwitch. Thank you, friend number six, for coming up with that winner. (If you don't know who Julian is, google her up.)

Happy Halloween, everyone! Stand still, listen to some creepy music, and your friends will materialize.