The Random Autumnal Ramblings of A Mad Woman

First, I would like to thank both The Queen of Shake-Shake and Oh, the Joys for stopping by, reading my little ole blog and leaving a comment. I feel like I'm somebody now! I have been reading both of their blogs for about three or four months now, and consider them to be my inspiration to get out there and write. Thank you both so much! (and now I have to sniffle and blow my nose)

The aforementioned injured cat, Rikki, is feeling a bit better as the week presses on, though he is QUITE irritated at being held hostage indoors. Recalling the Queen's comments about one of her cats behaving inappropriately, in regards to personal hygiene and the litter box, I am desperately hoping that a) Rikki can't read and thus get ideas, b) that he won't independently consider piddling in corners an option. Once he goes there, the rest will surely follow and it will be mass anarchy of the Furry Herd.

Now that October is halfway through and it has finally gotten to where it feels like Fall, I can turn my mind to the yearly pumpkin portrait. Ever since my oldest was a tiny baby, we have taken the kids to our local pumpkin patch, or the Farmers' Market to record the season. The first picture we ever took was this one, of the Professor at two months old:

Pretty darn funny looking, but cute. He pretty much still makes this face, especially when I try and make him eat carrots. Then there was a year at the Farmer's Market, with the fabulous artificial chicken in the foreground to add that special touch. Unfortunately, this is what we affectionately refer to as " Dad's style", where the subjects are always squinting into the light. Any picture my father ever took of us looks just like this: Ah, genetics in motion! And finally, the pumpkin portrait of 2006. Gone are the days of the chubby little cheeks and palpable sweetness, regardless of the poor composition. The Professor is obviously NOT interested in saying "cheese", he doesn't even like cheese, mom. Luckily, in this shot, you can't see the crest of hair that is perpetually standing up. The Bohemian, his younger brother, is a born ham-a-saurus, though his mother dresses him funny. I'm just be thankful he isn't excavating a nasal cavity in this shot: This year's shot will up and coming soon. I haven't gone to buy any pumpkins because the weather has been too warm - I have no desire to dig the guts out of a rotten pumpkin - but All Hallows will be upon us soon, so I guess I have to succumb and go.

We saw some really neat pumpkins online last year that gave us our inspiration for the carnage below, and I ask you: what little boy doesn't love vomit as a theme?! Can we live up to last year's grossness? Should we? Do I really have a choice in the matter? (Well, actually I do, seeing as how I am the fastest carver in the west, or something like that. I feel like I should spit a toothpick out of my mouth, shift my rifle to the other shoulder, and mumble, "I reckon so..." Ah, Clint, I love you!)