First off, Saturday was HECTIC! Jack's soccer game was a late one (12:45) and we had THREE Halloween parties to attend after that. Since DH had to take his cousin to the airport after soccer, he missed the first Halloween party. At each of the first two parties, we were to bring an appetizer. I made antipasta platters (salami, wet mozzarella, olives, brie with sauted garlic, etc.) My friend, Allison, makes this fabulous queso dip, which is melted Velveeta, tons of veggies, other cheeses etc.
So I drove both families to the first party (minus DH, since he was going to the airport.) Allison loaded TWO crock pots of her queso into the back of the van, since we weren't going to stop at her house in between. Each crock pot was in a box to stabilize it. So we have fun at the first party (which we arrived at late, due to soccer and getting all the kids and appies ready) and stayed for an hour or so. Then we headed up the hill to get DH and my second platter. As we're approaching my house, one of the lil boys says, "The queso tipped over." We weren't too worried, because nobody heard anything, and he could have been exaggerating. As we pull into the driveway (it's now completely dark, and we don't have lights along the driveway,) the hugest, scariest witch you've ever seen jumps out in front of the van. It's DH, of course. The kids were all screaming, but I figured it was fine. I stopped the van, and we were gonna all run in to grap jackets and fleeces for party #2. I go to Charli's door to get her, and she's absolutely hysterical. Completely shaking in her boots and sobbing. I guess Daddy's costume sorta back-fired. So Allison and I run in to get jackets, and Michael, Allison's DH, walks in and tells me, "Uh, Michelle. I'm going to have to comfirm a full capsize." So I open the back of the minivan, and sure enough, the box with the crock pot is UPSIDE DOWN! The ENTIRE back gate had queso dripping out all over the bumper, and the raised gate was raining queso all over the place. Then the van lights went out, since it timed out. Then I couldn't find my keys. So there we are, nine of us, completely in the dark with queso everywhere, scared children, and we're late to the second party. We finally find the keys, get everyone in (took the crock pot out and soaked up some of the mess, but left much of it to deal with later.)
DH made Michael drive, because his long, black, witch fingernails were in the way. Charli wouldn't have anything to do with Daddy, out of sheer terror. I thought he was holding the platter of antipasta, but didn't pay attention, since I was comforting a frightened Charli. As we arrive at the second party, the platter of antipasta goes FLYING off the center console, onto the front carpet. Wet mozz balls and garlic olives were rolling all over the place, and Michael calls out, "Who has a pink razor? It just got doused with olive oil." Fortunately, my phone survived, and most of the platter did, but what a total scene we were!
Allison and I laughed our butts off all night, and we will forever remember The Great Capsize of 2007.