Halloween sucks when you're a kid in an Evangelical Christian cult. Celebrating the Devil's Day is a sin of the highest order, in that obviously costumes are wearable false idols and buying candy is a misuse of funds designated for God's work. I wish I were joking. Bless my parents' non-heretical hearts. Even though they knew to nix treat-or-treating to save our souls, they recognized that maintaining a holy Halloween was tough for we children. They didn't want us to be too tempted to partake in witch-related wickedness, so they created a Christian alternative. They organized a "Pumpkin Patch Party"
My husband and I have been married for almost six years, and in that half decade, we've only had 2.5 actual fights. The first serious squabble between me and Chris obviously concerned the thermostat. The second battle focused on his inability to use basic grammar and punctuation. The most recent ruckus involved determining who had to collect the mushy gifts deposited by our cats in their bathroom box. Our first two altercations hit all the high points: crying, screaming, silent treatments, and couch-sleeping. So, when the Feline Feces Feud first began, I quickly surmised that our marriage couldn't handle