Hi, everyone. Contrary to popular opinion, I have not died, fallen into a coma, or had my fingers cut off in a freak ice-skating accident. (That last one could have something to do with the fact that I live in Texas.)

Anyway, although I’ve been flying under the radar for a bit, I’m still here, making lunches, cleaning up Halloween candy wrappers, trying to find the surface of my desk, and occasionally killing fictional people.

Well, more than occasionally, really, since I have several books to write, and not a whole lot of months in which to write them. (Hence at least part of the non-blogging thing.)

But while I’m here, I wanted to share a little Halloween incident with you. Partly because it’s Thursday and I really should write something. And partly because it was quite astonishing — at least to me.

Now, some people seem to think that if you’re old enough to tie your shoes, you’re old enough to stop trick-or-treating. I’m not of that school; I like seeing teenagers at my door, dressed as the Energizer Bunny, or Bozo the Clown, or even just wearing a floral sheet with a couple of holes cut in it for eyes. (At least it took more effort than throwing on a polo shirt and some khakis and saying you’re a preppie.) Seriously, though: childhood is all too fleeting, and adulthood long and irreversible, so I’m glad to see kids making the most of it.

But there is a limit. And by limit, I’m thinking of one of the last trick-or-treating gangs, which rolled up to the door at about 9:30 Halloween night. It consisted of two under-ten kids (vampire, cheetah) and their cigarette-smoke-scented father, whose five-o’clock shadow was heavily weighted toward the gray.

Now, our house at Halloween is rather done-up; we’ve got a graveyard, a squeaky wrought-iron gate, lots of skeletons, candles, and — the piece de resistance — a smoking cauldron from which trick-or-treaters must extract their candy. (I help the little ones out, so they don’t get too scared.)

At any rate, first the brave vampire takes a handful of candy, followed by the rather more reticent cheetah. Then, once the kids ooh and ahh a bit, inspect their Nerds, and determine that their hands aren’t actually on fire, the vampire says to his smoky dad, “Hey, try out the cauldron!”

Mr. Smoky Dad, who is at least 45 and is only barely acquainted with the fundamentals of personal hygiene, laughs heartily, gives me a look like “Kids — gotta love ‘em”, and humors his son by trying out the cauldron.

But he doesn’t just sample the dry-ice-induced fog.  No, he plunges a hand into it up to his hairy elbow and withdraws a huge handful of Nerds and Twix. I smile, expecting him to toss it all back back in, but he doesn’t. He inspects his haul for a moment. And then, while I’m staring open-mouthed, he stuffs the candy into the (already rather full, I now notice) pocket of his cargo pants.

And then he DOES IT AGAIN! Only this time he sorts through and throws back the Nerds — apparently he’s a Twix kind of guy.

So, although I was speechless for perhaps the first time in ten years — thankfully, they left before Daddy could stuff the rest of our candy into his pants — I decided that next year, I’ll have a little list to hand out to those who are perhaps a bit too young at heart. If you have any additions, please let me know, but here’s what I’ve got so far:
You know you’re too old to trick or treat when…

1. You’re older than the person handing out candy

2. Your children are older than the person handing out candy

3. You remember the day Kennedy died

4. Your beer belly is a result of actual beer consumption

5. You don’t get carded when you buy the beer

6. You haven’t worn a costume since that drunken night freshman year of college when your roommate dressed you up as a Smurf

7. You no longer enjoy Jawbreaker Candy because it interferes with your dental adhesive

8. You own a nose hair trimmer

9. You are eligible to collect Social Security

And finally, if you REALLY need a litmus test…

10. If you have never heard of Zac Efron, Hannah Montana, or the Wiggles, it’s definitely — DEFINITELY — time to hang up your pillowcase.

Anyway, I hope you all have a great week. Thanks for your patience with my period of non-blogging, and I’ll be back soon! (Promise.)