I used to love Halloween.  The costumes. The kids. The candy. The Black cats.  The full moon. The wine.

*Wait! What did she say? The wine????*

Yes, the wine.  I always believed that adults should enjoy the evening as much as the kids so when Michelle was young, a friend and I would take her around the neighborhood for the usual Trick-or-Treat.

Except my friend and I would accompany Michelle to the door and after her "Trick-or-Treat!" greeting and the expected handout of tooth-decaying sweets, we would hold out our wine glasses and intone to the unsuspecting candy provider, "Trick-or-Drink!"

Sure, there were your standard stick-in-the-mud-teetotaler-sourpusses who looked at us as though we were the neighborhood chainsaw-wielding-hockey-masked-killers; but more often than not, our glasses were filled and we went merrily on our way.

By the end of the evening we were in no pain and somehow found our way home, much to the credit of Michelle I'm sure. 

Now, this was in the days before poisoned apples and heroin-injected-Snickers-bars, but nonetheless, Michelle's candy had to be checked before she was allowed to dive in and I was able to convince her that by the time she woke up the next morning, her candy would be safe to eat.

At least that's what I always told her.  The truth was that mom was in no shape to clean up the inevitable mess of candy wrappers or deal with an energetic-sugar-filled-wild-child.

I think she was a little skeptical however, that every year, all of the Almond Joy bars were poisoned and had to be "thrown" away.