I opened last week’s Luverne Journal to page 3 of the sports’ section to see what Carol Staller, our advertising consultant, was having a fit about.

And sure enough, there it was, right in the whole bottom portion of the team’s photo.

“Holy moly! It’s the blob that ate the Tiny Mites!”

I have always loved the scary movies and the “Monster Fest” marathons shown on TV the entire week before Halloween. My brother Lamar and I will call each other back and forth to let the other one know if something really good is coming on.

“Regina, the original 1932 ‘Mummy’ is coming on—you know, the one with Boris Karloff.”

My brother believes in the originals. He could care less for modern scary movies. He says they’re stupid. Of course, the first time I saw that little girl with the long black hair come climbing out of that television set in “The Ring,” I didn’t sleep for a week. And that’s only been a couple of years ago.

Anyway, back to the Tiny Mites.

Having monster movies on the brain, I decided to laugh instead of cry over the messed up Luverne Tiny Mite team photo as I thought about “The Blob” and “Attack of the Killer Tomatoes.” I concluded that the big splotch on the printed page was “The Blob.” Believe me, if something can go wrong with computers and a printing press, it will sooner or later, which, of course, causes me constant worry. Here again is one of the main reasons for my headaches. I think I need a vacation.

Speaking of going to other places, let’s get an update on our newly adopted New Zealand family and little Luverne. The family received their care package that was filled with Chicken Shack T-shirts, an Alabama state flag, Alabama stickers, pins and maps, a stuffed animal for Luverne, a United States’ trivia book, and whatever else I could cram into the box.

“Thank you so much,” New Zealand mom Sooz Wright sent in her email to me. “It was just so lovely to see Austin’s eyes grow big when he greeted the courier. We had such fun. All the day’s scheduled activities got pushed to one side as we wrestled each other for the box and its contents.”

“I can’t remember if I told you that Marc is away for a couple of weeks way down in Nelson for work (it’s getting a bit thin on the ground here at the moment), so it was extra special that your parcel arrived while he was gone. (We’ve never been apart this long in all our 21 years together.)”

”Thank you, thank you, to you, and to Samson, and to The Chicken Shack (Christy and Henry), and to Senator Mitchell. Who knew that orange is my favourite colour? Hey, two words in a row with English spelling! Austin put his Alabama pin on his cowboy hat and is tickled pink. We’ve been wearing the T-shirts everywhere. Marc is looking forward to coming home just so he can pore over the Alabama map.”

“I do, however, have one complaint – no chocolate!”

Sooz is definitely a woman after my own heart. I thought about sending chocolate in the big box, but finally decided against it. I was afraid they’d open a box filled with chocolate-smeared Chicken Shack T-shirts. Again, I want to thank everyone who helped in any way with the New Zealand care package.

And, as Halloween approaches, Samson, my 21-pound tomcat, has been getting into the spirit of things as well. He loves scary movies like I do, especially the old black and white ones, but he also loves to pull a good Halloween prank.

Uh, Sam, where do you think you’re going with all that toilet paper?