The Everywhereist

My dear, confusing mother.

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I’ve just returned from California. I spent several days spent in the company of my family, which is always a fascinating experience. Nothing makes me question reality more.

I’ve tried explaining to my friends that my relations see things differently than the rest of the world, but my point is often lost.

“All families are insane,” they say, nodding sympathetically. And then they’ll tell me about some aunt of theirs with an excessive collection of hat pins and no hats, and laugh at how ridiculous the whole thing is.

Hat pins! How delightfully zany!

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It’s November 1st, and like any forward-thinking lunatic, I’m contemplating next year’s Halloween costumes. I only have 364 days to go.

We take Halloween rather seriously in our house. My mother is to blame. I don’t quite know when she learned about the tradition of dressing up for the holiday (I seriously doubt it had been exported to Europe back in the late 70s, when my brother was wee, so it must have been after she moved to the states and I was born), but I can imagine her hearing the word “costume” and getting that charmingly crazy look on her face that I know too well.

And so, on one October that I was too small to remember, a brilliant madness began, and continued throughout my childhood. My mother would make elaborate costumes, and do my hair, and wonderful things like this would happen:

My brother and I, circa 1984.

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Last week, I found out there was a trailer for Wes Anderson’s new movie, Moonrise Kingdom. I haven’t watched it yet. Not because I’m not interested – I am. I just like having it there, waiting for me. Knowing I can enjoy it whenever I want. It’s something I occasionally do with cupcakes. I sit and look at them. I enjoy having them there. It’s almost better than actually eating them.

Almost.

Anderson is a polarizing figure for a lot of people. Even I, from my perch of adoring fandom, am able to see he’s not perfect. The sentimentality of The Life Aquatic felt forced. Darjeeling Limited was unnecessarily misogynistic. But most of the time, he strikes the right cord, and makes me believe that life is meant to be full of sepia tones and musical vignettes and narration by Alec Baldwin.

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Yes, I realize that isn’t a proper parody of the Star Trek tagline. But I can’t put a split infinitive in a title, can I? Not that that stops me from using them, but … well, whatever. Saturday was Halloween, and I’m of the firm belief that Halloween should always happen on a Saturday, because it makes things infinitely more wonderful. Either that, or November 1st should be a national holiday. I really think I’m on to something here.

But on to more important things … Like, what do two crazed travelers do for Halloween? Dressing up as tourists is just a bit too predictable … Instead, we decided to step it up a notch or two on the dork scale.

Rand was a nameless red-shirted ensign. I was girl-Spock. Guess which one of us is going to be vaporized first.

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