Happy Gigli Day!

Well, I’m writing again. All of this can be attributed to three things: 1) I saw Michael Chabon read at the Wisconsin Book Festival last Thursday evening, and he inspired the hell out of me; 2) my Halloween party and the associated menu planning, decorating, and cleaning frenzy is over; and, 3) I’m having the Gigli of days. Which is to say, painfully bad. Bad to the point where I almost decided to never speak again, because every time I opened my mouth I plunged in with both feet. But these kinds of bad days can, on occasion, prove very motivating when you want to get words on paper. Or in your hard drive.

(Great. Now I have that inane “Bad Day” song in my head. Does anyone have a portable lobotomy kit on hand? How about a rusty spoon?)

So yes, we hosted our annual Halloween shindig with old college pals last Saturday evening, and my digestive system is still recovering. The menu:

• Two varieties of puff pastry tartlets: one stuffed with brie, cranberry sauce, and walnuts, the other with roasted squash, caramelized onions, feta, sage, and pecans
• Shrimp Cocktail
• Swedish meatballs
• Cider Cheese Fondue
• Spinach Dip with cubed bread and raw veggies
• Chips with salsa and black bean dip
• Crackers & cheese
• Mulled cider
• Pomegranate martinis
• “Partytime” beans. I know, it sounds like something a hobo would bring to Thanksgiving, but they’re not half-bad.
  

I have a feeling I’ll be eating Partytime beans for weeks to come. I apologize in advance to my husband and coworkers.

We usually watch scary movies at this event, and this year my friend Wendy brought a copy of the hard-to-find Black Christmas, which I’ve been wanting to see since I learned it basically set the bar for horror films to follow, including Halloween. It was directed in 1974 by Bob Clark, who also directed Porky’s and A Christmas Story. Try as I might, I struggle to find the connection between these three films beyond … Bob Clark. The film also stars pre-Lois Lane, pre-psychotic ravings Margot Kidder. She plays a drunken whore.

It was an incredibly thoughtful and moving performance.

My overall impressions: if you’re a fan of the genre and want to crack some easy jokes at Margot Kidder’s expense, it’s a must-see. If you yawn at mysterious calls “coming from inside the house!” or roll your eyes at sorority girls in peril, you may want to skip this one.

Anyway, the party was attended by our closest friends and the toilet didn’t break, so I’d have to say it was a success. As for my Monday, not so much.