it begins

So here we are.

The fun is just beginning. Uh-oh. That’s right, uh-oh. 

I’m not talking about the “fun”-by-”fun”-I-don’t-mean-fun-at-all of the very serious Hurricane Sandy (a.k.a. Frankenstorm, Crazy Wench, Shelf-Clearer) that is coming our way. That’s an actual uh-oh, and I hope that everyone stays safe. No, the fun of which I speak is actual, real, good-time fun. Uh-oh. 

On Halloween, everything is fun. It says so, right there on the candy wrapper: fun size! Everyone is having an absolute ball, eating copious amounts of candy because it’s the one day of the year where it is socially acceptable to do so without the Internet judging you. (Your costume, however, is another matter entirely.) And since all the candy is fun-sized, there’s really no limit to how many you can keep cramming into your maw throughout the nougat-filled night. 

In the days immediately following, there is leftover candy everywhere, easy to just grab and chew. And we all wink and laugh, oh, I shouldn’t be doing this mmffm mmm oommm... but we do it anyway because candy is tasty and we don’t want to admit that we are a little too old to celebrate Halloween in the high-fructose fashion. 

These leftover treats (as well as any you should happen to purchase on November 1 when they’re all half-price) will come in handy on Election Night -- provided that they are still uneaten -- to keep you wired until the wee smalls as you wait to hear the returns from all those states that are too close to call. Let’s face it: this is our reality now, and the image of stressed citizens barely awake on their sofas, with bloodshot eyes glued to at least three different electronic devices, surrounded by bunting, lawn signs and discarded fun-size wrappers, will someday be painted by some pop artist and become a classic cover for New York Magazine. (Pop artists, I’m giving you this one. You’re welcome.)

This final night of debauchery and head-spinning cable TV graphics will then turn us off of fun-sized candies -- as well as the words percentage points -- for another year. However, the sweet demon sugar has already infiltrated our bodies and souls, and since we’re gearing up for Thanksgiving anyway, it’s time for cakes and pies. 

And why not? It’s a time to be thankful for everything we have, and come together with the people we love... and the people we sort of love... and the people we tolerate... and the people we downright despise because of that thing that he/she did or said that one time that we will never forget or forgive. What better way to get through the damned day than with pies?

Plus, it’s getting cold outside. Let’s bake things so that everything is fresh and hot, to keep our tummies warm! 

Which brings us to December, and cookies. 

It doesn’t matter which holidays you celebrate, there is never such a glut of cookies as there is in December. They are easy to make, they are fun, they are extremely portable and handy to bring to a party, they make lovely gifts, they are festive-looking and brighten any table spread, they are a handy source of fuel for gift-shopping or spirited caroling, they simply must be made for Santa’s arrival, and there are so many different varieties that even someone with a spent soul, a crushed spirit, and a nut allergy can find a suitable way to fill that gaping hole inside with sugar and flour. 

Cookies go great with hot chocolate, too! And everyone looks cute when they eat a cookie. It’s impossible not to. Even the word itself -- cookie -- is just adorable. 

By the end of the year, we are in the sugar party’s full swing. There are crumbs everywhere, and all the mistletoe kisses are sticky and sweet. But what the hell. 

And then, with an icy slap, January 2 hits you in the face. January 2 is widely known to be the grayest, bleakest, coldest day of the year, but it is also slightly less known as the Day of No More Pants That Fit. 

And you are no longer fun-sized.

It begins, friends. It begins.

Yes indeed. Welcome to me.