Forgive me, did someone say, "Food"?

I have this thing with Halloween food. My traditional Halloween spread consists of pigs in a blanket, chips, dips, drinks, anything that looks good at the grocery store, and, duh!, candy. Once I decided I was too old to go trick-or-treating, I enjoyed getting dressed up and passing out candy to the cute little kids. Since trick-or-treating falls during dinner time, it's tradition to have a snack buffet on Halloween night.

Being in the fall spirit, and having been invited to attend the midnight showing of Rocky Horror, I was in an entertaining mood that Sunday Halloween in 2004.

My neighbor below me came over and her friends showed up. We were having cocktails and I was obsessed with downloading Rocky Horror songs and printing out the audience participation script so I could brush up on my Rocky Horror.

I threw together a costume by adding a pair of cat ears to my standard Long and Leans, black shirt, and black heels outfit.

I taught my guests how to do the "Time Warp."

Being the good, strong, Southern lady I am, I had to serve hors d'oeuvres. And with it being Halloween, I didn't have to think too hard at all about what to serve.

I went to the grocery store and grabbed cocktail smokies, croissant dough, chips, dip, cookies, crackers, cheese and, of course, beer. So easy.

My Nepalese neighbor popped in and I insisted he stay for a while. I was so proud of myself because I knew he could eat everything I was serving. (Since he is Hindu, he doesn't eat beef.)

Or so I thought. So much so, I even told him the food was beef-less.

'Cause cocktail smokies are pork, right?

Nope. They have beef in them.

I found that out a few weeks later, when my Nepalese neighbor and I were in the grocery store together and he told me it was important for him to read the labels because beef is snuck into a lot of foods. Out of curiosity I checked the cocktail smokies.

Sure enough, beef was one of the ingredients.

Y'all, I felt so bad. Not only did I feel bad for disrespect someone's religious beliefs, I felt like a failure as a hostess.

Thankfully, my Nepalese neighbor is a very Zen Hindu, who said, "It's okay. It was an accident. You didn't know. I didn't know. We are forgiven."

Greetings, fellow Auburn fan

In 2004, when my beloved next door neighbor of nearly two years moved out of our complex, I was devastated. But soon, I found out I had a very kind, new, next door neighbor. He was from Nepal and in exchange for me taking him to the grocery story, he would cook Nepalese food for me, with lots of cilantro, just the way I lik(ed) it. (Thank you, Reflux.)

My new neighbor was a graduate student, and not only was he new to Auburn, he was new to the South. He had completed his undergrad in Washington state (or Oregon, somewhere in the Northwest), so I relished explaining to him Southern culture.

One afternoon, we passed each other on the landing we shared, outside our apartments.

"What is this wa-yr eagle I keep hearing?" He asked me. I loved that I was someone he could go to for the right answers about this kind of stuff.

I thought for a moment how to best describe "this wa-yr eagle" business to him. "War Eagle has two purposes. At games, you say, 'Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaar Eagle!' as a cheer for the team, and around campus, or wherever you may be, you say, 'War Eagle' to fellow Auburn people, like a greeting."

"I see."

I tell him the story of the Civil War vet who brought his pet eagle to a game, and how the eagle broke loose and circled the stadium, and how we Auburn fans believe that eagle led us to victory that day, and how at the end of the game, that eagle plummeted to the ground and passed away. (I can't bear to say the other word.)

Ever since, we Auburn people use the phrase, "War Eagle!" as a greeting and a cheer for our beloved Auburn Tigers.

"So, that really happened?"

"No duh it really happened!"

He looked a bit bewildered.

"I mean, yes. Yes, the story is true."

War Eagle, Auburn fans.