Hallow-wet

We don't really go for devil worship in the UK, but here they love it!  Regardless of the fact that it's 500 years since the Protestant Reformation, and Martin Luther would be spinning in his grave, before amusingly rising out of it and handing candy to children, we nonetheless got dressed up and headed out with a posse to clean up the streets of treats.

Some Houston neighbourhoods are renowned for their trick-or-treating, like The Heights, where children are driven in by competitive parents to fill their buckets.  Around here in Montrose ("A Living Mosaic") things are mercifully more sedate.  It also rained, for the first time in a month, which meant that our own hoard of goodies was left mostly unhandedout.  Such a chore to finish those up.

Anyway, Pete began as a polite British boy taking one candy and thanking everyone, but swiftly gave in to his dark American side, inspired by his friends, diving head-first into every proffered bag of treats.  Some of it bordered on home invasion, the pack mentality making it far scarier than the colourful costumes would have you believe.

I went home early (to cook a lasagne) and Pete and Hannah arrived with a ton of chocolate when darkness eventually fell.  Sadly, my son is now of an age when he has a reasonable idea of how many sweets he's collected - no chance for daddy to cherry pick the Reese's Peanut Butter Cups anymore.  But perhaps it's good that something is stopping me being led into temptation.  Martin Luther would approve of that.

Pete and Levi.  Scary enough.

Hello, we're here to take EVERYTHING!

 So sweet and innocent-looking.  A trick I must master.

Go home and be dry or stay out and get as much candy as possible?  Hmmm.

Oh...OK, just eat it all at once and get it over with.

Back to the District

I never noticed how weird the East Coast is before.  Everyone's so liberal!  No one drives trucks, or farms longhorns, or uses perfectly good words like "y'all".  It's a strange place.  And it's cold - so cold.

But Hannah had some meetings there, so Pete and I got a cheap flight with wonderful Spirit Airways ("Would you like a drink of water?  That'll be $3.") and joined her in a swanky hotel downtown.  Because as you know: if Chevron's payin', David's stayin'.

The main purpose of our trip was to meet up with some old friends, starting with Ethan, Pete's bestie from Silver Spring school.  It took all of one second for them to warm up to each other after six months apart and soon they were terrorising the Postal Museum - an old favourite - as if no time had passed.  Luckily it was empty, being a week day, and the security guards were not afraid to ask two four-year-olds to stop running and shouting.  Hands-off parenting.

The next day was sunny and slightly warmer so we went to check that all the monuments were still in place, because someone said they might be removed.  You're not allowed to get close to the White House anymore, but thankfully Washington, Lincoln and Jefferson aren't so picky about the public.

Hannah's work ended on Friday, meaning that we had to do things on our own dollar the final night.  By that I mean we phoned the Muckers and told them we were coming to stay, and their hospitality was as warm and lubricating as ever.

While Hannah got a nice luxurious flight home, Pete and I were back on Spirit all the way down to George Bush airport.  It was nice to visit Outside Texas, as we now call it, but much better (and warmer) to be home.  Y'all.

Mind if I make myself comfortable?  Pete likes the idea of working for mummy's company when he's older.

They moved the Statue of Liberty into the Museum of American History.

That slogan, it seems so familiar, I just can't think where...

A white squirrel!  Immediately posted to Facebook as THE most amazing thing on the trip.

Union Station.

Boys together.  Joy.

Pete makes his political choice.

Well hello Mr Lincoln.



Ah, finally, a smidgen of civilisation.

Monster

Just when I think I've seen the best that America has to offer, along comes Monster Truck Jam!  Why wouldn't you pile dirt into huge ramps inside an arena?  And get trucks with gigantic balloon tires to jump off them at high speed?  What could go wrong?

In the way that the rodeo was invented by cowboys who got extremely bored on long cattle drives, this is what happens when you have big cars, a lot of space, and cheap petrol.  Basically, anywhere in the States.  We got tickets through event sponsor Chevron.  "Why would we want to sponsor a monster truck show?" asked Hannah, showing that the image of Chevron held by those within is somewhat different from those without.

The whole event is presented as a sport - everyone gets points, and there's a grand final in (where else?) Las Vegas.  Of course, like most American sports it's more about giving you something to watch between adverts, and each truck is sponsored by motor parts companies, or a fuel additive, or even a movie or TV show.  Along with 55,000 others we were cheering on VP Racing Fuels' Mad Scientist, Gas Monkey Garage, and the somewhat-clunkily-named Marvel's The Punisher™ On Netflix.

After the national anthem - naturally - the spinning death machines arrived in a flurry of fireworks, and proceeded to race and jump.  And crash.  The first time this happened I assumed ambulances would arrive and we'd be asked to file out in respectful silence.  But no!  A tow truck appeared, flipped the truck back onto its wheels, and off it went again.

It was AWESOME!

In the racing part, Lucas Oil Crusader reigned triumphant, before Maximum Destruction took the two-wheel skills challenge.  In the freestyle - which everything leads up to, as that's the crazy trucks-doing-backflips bit - it was Grave Digger who came away with the trophy.

As the fumes of petrol, testosterone, and freedom began to grow stale we wandered back to my Ford Fiesta.  I gunned the engine, slipped the clutch, and drove under the speed limit observing all stop signs on the way home.



Monster Mummy and driver.  I don't hold out much hope for those pumpkins, mind.

The pre-show pit party, where you could stand by a truck and get dubious freebies from various companies.  No one was advertising any electric cars down there, I'll tell you that.

Pete, feeling a little tired.

I made truck ownership a condition of moving to Texas.  Still waiting...

One of the aforementioned freebies.  You were meant to write the name of the truck you were supporting.  Peter is supporting Peter.

Excitement builds...

Boom!  It's Marvel's The Punisher™ On Netflix!!

And lots of other trucks.

Racing, two at a time, like that cycling one they do at the Olympics, only NOT BORING!!

Um...is that meant to...is he ok?

Let's get this show back on the road!

Whoa!  If he can land that then -

Oh.

Nothing to see here, move along.

Smash!

You'll believe a truck can fly.

Amazingly, this did not end in disaster.

Backflip!

And it was LOUD!  But the Davies motto is 'safety first'.

First of the season

Autumn, my favourite season.  Well, if not my favourite then certainly in my top four.  In Maryland, autumn was the pleasant two weeks between the suffocating heat and the teeth-shattering cold.  In Houston it's when temperatures finally drop to those of an English heatwave, and you can venture out for five minutes without risking instant dehydration and donating blood to a million mozzies.

But beyond all that, it's the season of pumpkin spice!  This stuff gets everywhere: margarine, nuts, doggy dental treats, spray cans.  Every now and again you even find it in a pumpkin pie recipe.  But its most important appearance is - of course - in the Pumpkin Spice Latte.

The history of the PSL is somewhat cloudy, but it was certainly popularised by Starbucks, who launched it in Vancouver and Washington DC late in 2003.  Since then, like crazy tweets from the President, it has become a part of American life, equally loved and bemoaned.

Here at the Davies Coffee Emporium we fall strictly on the love side, so much so that I bought a crateful of discounted pumpkin syrup earlier in the year and have been holding a rabid Hannah at bay until October.  She now leaves for work each morning with a thermal mug full of the good stuff, and is 12-15% more productive as a result.  You're welcome, Chevron.

What follows are some photos cementing my place as one of America's #1 aspirational lifestyle blogs.

Mmm, the good stuff.  I'm not sure if there's a difference between "pumpkin pie" and "pumpkin spice" syrup but, you know, pumpkin, so...

Beans means espresso.

The other black gold.

Frothy, like my blog.

Lifestyle model, although she is genuinely enjoying it.  Aren't you, dear.

A real pumpkin?  Not sure what we're going to do with that.  Is it pumpkin spice flavour?

Ah!  A pleasingly Picasso-esque design from Pete.

And here he is holding an alligator, just because.