Parade of Lost Souls

Yesterday Elaine and I had a bit of a craft day making masks. Then we dressed up:


and went out to the Parade of Lost Souls:


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We had fun. As we walked around we kept hearing people saying things like "Ooh! Great masks!" and such. At one point a bunch of giggly girls ran up to us and asked to get their picture with us. At another point some women went on at length about how Elaine's corset and mask matched with my mask and shirt. If I had thought of it at the time I should have pointed out the burgundy trim on my shoes - that would have blown them away. It was fun. It wasn't The Parade of Ghouls (more), but it was fun.

Three Pictures of Trinity

The south churchyard. The grave with the statue belongs to John Watts Jr., the last Royal Recorder of the colony of New York. Born Aug. 27, 1749. Died Sept. 3, 1836. Seems he adjusted alright to the revolution, he was a member of Congress fron 1793 to 1796.

The north churchyard. For more details of the graves go here.

The spire. When it was built this spire stood well above the skyline of Manhattan. It was, in fact, the tallest building in North America at the time. I posted more about the history of this chuch in a previous post.

And in utterly mundane news

As of today I have 36 identical socks. Period. No more struggling to match ever-so-subtly different socks after doing laundry. No more odd socks. They are all the same. If I lose one, it doesn't matter because it will still match the other 34. No more ruining the elastics bundling them in pairs. Just one big pile of socks. Any two will do.

Alternately I could have gone down the road of an old room-mate who utterly abandoned the tyranny of matching socks. The first two that came out of the drawer were good enough for him. It made no difference whether they were red, green, blue, argyle, wooly, whatever. But I don't think that would go over well at work. I think I shall continue to suffer the tyranny of matching socks for my job and forsake the freedom to clad my feet randomly that comes with being an aging dishwasher.