Which happened over a week ago.
I don't mean to let so much time pass between posts, but I'm acutely conscious of how much time it takes to do large events justice, and there are so many wonderful distractions on the internet. Distractions named exciting, exotic things like Hulu and YouTube and Neopets. But enough dilly-dally!
Friday, October 28th was a busy day. After going to the temple, sitting in on another Latin class's worksheet day, and going to my own Latin class, I had to stop by Joann's for fabric and notions (that's what the random bits for sewing projects are called) and then go to a sketchy cab company office to pick up the football tickets I won.
Yeah, so my friend works for a cab company, and they had a contest wherein whoever posted the best picture of one of their cabs to their Facebook wall would win two tickets to the Homecoming game. First, no one goes around taking random pictures of cabs. Second, you had to friend them on Facebook to be able to post on their wall. All of which was fine by me. Being the only person to enter the contest drastically bolstered my chances of winning. After picking up my tickets from their office in a derelict car lot, I hurried home to begin work on my costume for Saturday.
Solis Diaboli (our classics club) assembled the full Greek Pantheon for the Homecoming parade. I was their Artemis, so my accessories required a crapton of silver spray paint.
In the midst of all this spray painting and sewing, I decided it would be an awesome idea to take a break, drive all the way to Tempe, and walk up a windy hill with a candle so I could stand at the top for an hour with several hundred other people. Oh, I meant to say, "and participate in the Lantern Walk." It was actually kind of fun. Sure, I lost count of how many times my candle went out, and it's really hard to walk uphill, protect a candle, and explain the Festinalia at the same time, but there was something amusing and enjoyable about the whole thing. Maybe it was the six full minutes of fireworks. I'm a sucker for fireworks.
Back at home, I spent a good hour making sure my peplos would fall just above my knees. It's Artemis's signature look. And a huge exception to how long peploi usually are.
After working until 1:30 in the morning, I caught what sleep I could before getting up at 8 so I could be ready for my friend when she got there at nine to help with my hair. Our timetable was running flawlessly at that point.
On campus, we (a different we) gathered the Pantheon and found our place in the parade staging grounds. They stuck us back toward the end with the fraternities because the Classics Honor Society is Eta Sigma Phi. I guess the planning committee didn't realize it was an academic organization. In addition to the Pantheon, students from some of the Latin and Ancient Greek classes came in togas and stolas. The mortals carried a giant stuffed cow, and we had ourselves a right proper sacrificial procession: sacrifice in front, mortals following, gods bringing up the rear. It was so *ahem* epic. Yes. Yes, it was.
After the parade, and the subsequent (authentic) toga contest (which, strangely, featured only one toga as the rest of the contestants were females in an assortment of stolas, peploi, and chitons), my dad and I headed over to Sun Devil stadium, where I proceeded to earn my second sunburn ever.
My first sunburn was from the Homecoming game my freshman year. What is it about the late October sun streaming down over Frank Kush Field that so effectively reddens (or at least painfully pinkens) my skin?
We had great seats near center field, only 20 rows up, behind four Canadian guys who'd never been to Arizona before and had no idea who Sparky was. They'd come down for the weekend to escape the snow and to golf. They were downright uproarious. They spent the first half of the game making bets on every play and passing money back and forth as they won or lost, occasionally asking people to break larger bills or settle a dispute about the terms of some wager or another.
As for the game, we creamed them. Like corn. All thanks to our very own Jolly
And our defense! This is how mind-blowing our defense is (not talking about the heartbreaking results of last night's game): Colorado got the ball to the goal line and we stopped them. 2nd and goal from the goal line, and we held the line. 3rd and goal from the goal line, and we held the line. 4th and goal from the goal line, and we held the line.
They would snap the ball and all of the players would fall to the field like a building collapsing in on itself. The refs would move in and pull guys off one by one to find were the ball was, and somehow it was always a few inches to the wrong side of the white line. With three tries, they should've been able to get it in by accident. Brock Osweiler could've done it. Of course, all our Goliath has to do is trip and bam! yardage. Vontaze Burfict, our most notorious linebacker, is a beast. That boy came at them like William Wallace.
One of the best parts of winning the game was all the bison burger jokes I got to make afterward.
I was supposed to meet up with my friends to read Macbeth around a bonfire after the game (we're hardcore), but what with all the walking and the wild cheering, I just couldn't bring myself to drive over there. My calves were in revolt. I went over to my dad's girlfriend's house and watched Hocus Pocus instead.
For Halloween on Monday, I stayed home and passed out Mike and Ikes to the few groups of trick-or-treaters who stopped by. In these tough economic times, I would expect more children than ever to turn out to collect free sustenance from those strangers willing to spring for fun size Snickers to fuel their tiny sweet teeth, but no. One of my teachers told us that she bought ten pounds of candy and only had one customer. What is happening to our nation?
In between proffering my bowl to small superheroes and petite princesses, I watched Practical Magic ( <3 ) and Labyrinth. The latter has become my Halloween tradition since coming to college. I don't know what it says about me that that's the scariest movie I own (thanks, David Bowie), but I'll gladly accept whatever it is.
The end. Oh! and a picture.
Listening to: "Dance With The Devil" by Breaking Benjamin
Reading: Matched by Ally Condie