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All dressed up with nowhere to go

It was just another day for Grandma Michelle, who was unaware that there was a Halloween party happening at the Dancing Cat.

November 3, 2011

I have a few childhood memories of flurries on Halloween, which did not deter us from going door to door. So when the weather report suggested snow over the weekend, I wasn’t overly concerned. Planning to attend parties all over the county, I had prepared several wildly different costumes, in an attempt to avoid derision over repetition.

As the ominous clouds approached, I stayed optimistic, since we in the Catskills are made of (IMHO) hardy stuff. Casually observing the predictions (which varied out of control), I tried on all outfits one last time and scoffed at the barrage of e-mails and phone calls expressing concern. Even though the Dancing Cat Saloon (www.dancingcatsaloon.com) had planned an event for Friday night, I wasn’t really in the mood and had to be persuaded (by gal-pal Ellany Gable) to venture out.

I trotted out my delivery-man uniform, grabbed a prop and switched gears, happy to have been convinced, since the place was jumpin’ and filled with creatively costumed revelers. As suspected, several asked me if I was changing outfits for Saturday night’s assorted soirees and I breathed a sigh of relief, confident that I had a few tricks up my sleeve. My uniform was a hit (props make all the difference!) and I began to really get excited about the weekend. And then the unthinkable happened.

Never one to trust dire warnings on television, I was dumbfounded when the snow started coming down. Although it looked fairly intense and began to accumulate, I scared myself in the mirror while trying on the Ozzy Osborne wig and felt a shiver of delight knowing I might be unrecognizable to friends. Four-to-six seemed still manageable and I mocked the friends who appeared genuinely worried. Changing of the Guard (www.facebook.com/changingoftheguard) proprietor Shane Cobert assured me that his Mediterranean restaurant would be open, transformed into a haunted graveyard, which seemed appropriate for my headless bat-prop.