The Birds

Sunday's warm temperatures brought people out and about; I went for a walk and saw kids playing and adults taking down holiday decorations. My husband decided to wash my car, because:

• he is sweet;
• he wanted to wash the salt and sand off the car;
• he didn't purchase a car wash (and save .20 a gallon!) while pumping gas at Fletcher's earlier; and
• the birds are at it again.  

Our feathered friends haven't flown south for the winter, probably because Olney winters have been unseasonably warm recently. And like local deer, the birds seem to have found plenty to eat, as evinced by their multicolored droppings all over our driveway, cars, and garage door. Yes, you read that correctly -- garage door. How does THAT even happen? How globs falling from the sky manage to land on a vertical surface partially covered by an overhanging roof defies physics to me!

My poor husband frequently laments the birds' attraction to our cars as toilets. However, I pointed out to him that unlike the doomed people in Hitchcock's macabre classic The Birds, we are not being attacked by homicidal fowl. I asked, "Which situation would you rather be in: menaced by beasts of flight or having your car pooped on by them?"

Besides, having bird droppings land on you is supposedly a sign of good fortune. If this superstition is true, we should win the next lottery.

A Psycho Halloween

Last night for Halloween, I did not have any decorations but created a spooky atmospherewith scaaarrrry mooooood music.

My plan was to cue up my iPod to blare music from the shower/stabbing scene in Alfred Hitchcock's movie Psycho each time trick-or-treaters came to the door. As I opened it slowly, peals of screeching violins would greet unsuspecting visitors (listen at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vfthzU3V4zo).

So I set my iPod, speakers and a bowl of candy next to the door; then I crouched on floor, peeked out to spot approaching trick-or-treaters, pushed "play" on the iPod, cranked up the shrieking violins ... and opened the door to startled faces. Then I'd ask if anyone had a peanut allergy while handing out candy. After they left, I shut the door, re-cued the soundtrack to the beginning of the screaming violin sequence, hit "pause" and crouched in wait to surprise the next set of victims. I did this over and over again for 3 hours.

"The Scream" by Edvard Munch

Composer Bernard Herrmann's music elicited various reactions: some kids stepped back, eyes widening in surprise (maybe a little fear); some kids stood stockstill (maybe in horror?) but then regained their composure and held out their bags; and some kids grinned, commenting "I like your cool music!" Of course some kids ignored the music completely and just eyed the candy.

A few trick-or-treaters asked where the music was from. My reply "the movie Psycho" usually drew blank looks. "Oh, your parents would know the movie Psycho," I'd explain.

One boy answered, "Oh yeah, I saw that movie on Netflix!" I know this kid -- he is only 9 years old.  I wonder what he thought of a naked Janet Leigh attacked by a knife-welding crossdresser.

Overall, I consider the evening a success ... except now I am deaf with high-pitched violins echoing inside my throbbing head.

For Halloween my daughter dressed as a secret agent in a black trench coat, black fedora and large black sunglasses. When she returned from trick-or-treating, she said that some people thought she was one of the Blues Brothers. "Who are the Blues Brothers?" she asked. Maybe the kid who saw Psycho could tell her.