The Apple Lady

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Today is Halloween. I know that — I even wore my Lucille Ball costume to work. However, having not lived in a family neighborhood since high school (when my parents took care of such things), the idea that I might want to have some candy on hand completely slipped my mind. And it turns out, I live in a very family friendly neighborhood.
I let the first doorbell go, but felt guilty and frantically started rummaging around the kitchen looking for anything that might be remotely candy like. I saw the gourmet chocolate bars I had impulse bought from Whole Foods, but decided that a) I didn’t want to give $2 chocolate bars to kids and b) I only had three, so they wouldn’t last me that long anyway. And then I saw the bag of apples from last week’s apple picking excursion…
Now I know that kids are warned about apples because they can be poisoned or whatever, but the sounds of all of the costumed monsters and princesses outside were making me feel increasingly worse for having nothing for them. So, at the risk of having them all thrown away, I became the apple lady.
Reaction was mixed, tending toward the negative “Apples?! Yuck!” with a few “I love apples!” thrown in, and one precocious little boy who asked if I was a wicked witch who had poisoned them. My “No, I’m ‘I Love Lucy’,” was enough for him to trust me and take the apple. There were also a couple of parents who thanked me for my “healthy” choice. Yeah, sure… that’s right… I was being health conscious for these poor kids.
Fearing a revolt from the apple hating kids, I called Deb and was relieved to hear that she was already on her way home with candy. When she arrived, I stood on the porch with the bags of Snickers and Three Musketeers… and the apples, just because they were already there. No longer did I have to fear the disappointed faces of Spiderman, witches, and one adorable Raphael (the Ninja Turtle, not the Renaissance painter).
And yet, much to my surprise, word had gotten out that I had apples and some of the kids were actually coming by asking for them. Go figure.

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