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A bride should always keep her groom guessing. Donât you think? Shoot! You donât even need to be a bride to a groom. Iâll expand that sentence to declare, âA person should always keep the world guessing!â And so I do.
The holiday of witches, pumpkin heads and black cats, scary spooks and black hats is upon us! Boo! Itâs nearly Halloween! Youâre lucky enough to just read me in the newspaper. Should you ever be reading it in my cabin when I wake up in the morning youâll need the newspaper to hide behind. Iâm scarier than a mean, scary, dragon monster woman when I first wake up. That husband of mine must be attracted to mean, scary dragon monster women. I woke up and he said to me, âHave I told you youâre the prettiest girl in all of Barnes County?â He says that just before he decides to drive me over to Cass County for the day and then Iâm just a run-of-the-mill wife again. It takes a real looker to compete against those Cass Country girls.
Heâs expecting me to wear the President Obama mask I insisted he buy me at an auction. I just had to have it. I didnât care how much he had to bid to win it for me. The auctioneer began, âIâll take a twenty-five dollar bid now. Twenty-five dollars can I get twenty-five? Whoâll give twenty-five dollars now?â
I may be mostly Republican but Iâm surely not stupid. I never allow him to bid what the opening bid is unless itâs for a new pair of sexy Carlos Santana shoes. I really wanted this mask though. I shook my head to that husband of mine giving him the go ahead to raise our bidding number. We were going to bid the opening bid but just like we wait for the real story on what happened in Libya to come out âwe too waited to bid. The auctioneer dropped the bid to just ten dollars. âLetâs try a ten dollar bid now.â The auctioneer stopped his cadence and bantered a bit with the crowd. He was more obviously a real Republican than even I.
The crowd laughed at what he said. They laughed but they didnât bid. When nobody bids the auctioneer drops the price again. This time the auctioneer said, âCome on. Will someone give me two dollars?â I ainât no two dollar Republican so I yelled, âA buck!â Iâm fiscally conservative through and through. I won the mask. I won it but I refuse to wear it. If Iâm fiscally conservative then that husband of mine is just one thing. Tight! If, for instance, we go to the Chinese restaurant and I order extra broccoli he first asks the waitress, âWait. How much will that be?â I give it to him in a language he understands. I sarcastically say, âLess than it will cost to have my colon removed.â Husband is going to have a fit when he figures out I wanted the mask as a collectorâs item and nothing else. When he complains Iâll just put on my sexy Carlos Santana shoes, give him one of my best Barnes County girl smiles and use the lesson my Economics teacher, Mr. Weiss, taught me in high school. Iâll grin, bat my eyelashes and say, âPayeth your nickel, taketh your chances.â Once he sees me walking off in those heels heâll forget about that rubber mask.
I need a costume that will really turn him on. I need a costume that will make him think Iâm a piece of candy instead of him having to give me any.
So for over a month Iâve been thinking about Halloween. When Iâm driving I spend time remembering the past Halloweens Iâve lived. I smile at the crown my mother made me out of tinfoil when I was wee. I smile that I thought I was the most beautiful princess in all the kingdom and not just in Barnes County (according to that husband of mine) and all because my forcedly fiscally conservative mother made me a crown of aluminum foil. I moved home to North Dakota, USA in 1999. My mom, Pat Larson, was still alive back then. I dressed her up as a very believable Raggedy Andy doll and I was Raggedy Ann. She sat outside the house that cool October evening on her Electric Mobility scooter. She had pumpkin gourds in her basket and bags of candy in a cute, polka-dotted bag attached to the side of the scooter. The pumpkins I carved earlier in the day sat with glowing eyes on the steps. My mom and I sat outside giggling at ourselves and at the cars that drove by on Sixth Ave. SW that year. For those of you who knew my mother youâll understand. Her sense of humor could be stunning. As cars drove by she would nudge me and say, âWe need someone to stop. Jodi, pull your dress down just enough for them to see the âI love youâ heart you drew to make yourself look like a real Raggedy Ann doll. At least the men will stop.â
Like I said earlier-I ainât no two dollar Republican and Iâm surely not free! I scoldingly said that thing I had to say to her often and always while rolling my eyes and shaking my head. âMother!â
Not but a small handful of little people came up our street for tricks or treats that year. That would have disappointed most people. If my mom were still alive I think she would agree we just enjoyed being our silly selves that night instead of a mother who knew she needed a daughter to help and a daughter who wished her mother well again. For that night she didnât have disabilities and I didnât have the stress of my cares. We were incognito, we had mounds of our favorite chocolates and we had each other.
But that was then and this is now. Iâm not going to wear the President Obama mask and I canât wear my sexy Carlos Santana high heels. I wear them for everyday and donât want them to become some un-sexy Halloween prop. No sir! I need a costume that will ravish my groom! I need a costume that when he sees me in it he will drop to his knees and salivate, licking his lips and moaning for me. Even Christian women need to be reminded to share their womanly gifts more often with their men.
Men deserve what we were created to offer them. We took a vow and our grooms deserve to get it as often as they want it. We should always obey when they ask for it. We should be giving it to them in quantity and never holding back.
Thatâs why this Halloween Iâve created a tater tot hot dish costume. Trick or treat?
Ingstad lives on the prairie near Valley City and writes this column for the Times-Record.