changing lives since 2003 (ms_pooka) wrote,
changing lives since 2003
ms_pooka

pre-halloween.

we three went to tyler in mid-october to assist my father with celebrating his birthday. we had spaghetti. my sister's family showed up directly before dinner and left quickly after my present was presented. i believe my grandparents were also there. my mind lives in a fog.

earlier that day, we had gone to a pumpkin patch with my friend christie and her daughter and son as well as my other friend christian and his wife stephanie and their two sons. that last batch of family was fresh back from their post in paraguay and about to set up house back in DC. intercontinental. the pumpkin patch place was some kind of childhood fantasyland madhouse. there was a playground area and some kind of deal rigged up where you could pump water into a split open pvc pipe and race a rubber duck. there was pappy's barrel train. christian mentioned it was too bad that the barrels had, in a previous life, been used to transport dioxin. there was a hayride to the pumpkin patch. there was duck feeding and i don't know what all else. this was all free, which made us feel guilty since we weren't purchasing a pumpkin only to have to haul it back to dallas, so we purchased a large, non-pumpkin gourd instead. it turned out to be only one dollar.

pappy's barrel train: 1. oliver (just before slipping in entirely under the wheel. 2. christie, gabe, and griffin.


1. christian, griffin, christie, abby, unknown child. yes, i was actually able to wedge my butt into and, more importantly, out of one of those barrels.
2. gabe taking one for the team acting as a human air filter by taking the brunt of the tractor exhaust. i was second-in-command.


oliver and abby hanging on for dear life in the pumpkin transport wagon.


1. christie, stephanie, nicholas, christian-contemplating-a-pumpkin, gabe, abbie.
2. stephanie, christian-contemplating-two-pumpkins.


1. oliver making sleepy eyes at a pumpkin. 2. oliver searching for his nap.


1. we almost adopted that tomato red number up front until brian rejected it due to one-sided deformities.
2. making pumpkin wine.


linus: what a slut.


i couldn't decide which of these presented me in a less horrible light: the one where the pumpkin patch winds are tearing through or the one where the pumpkin patch lasers are searing our eyes from above. brian seems magically unaffected in both.


oliver exhibiting his new skill: sitting down on laps.


we spent the afternoon at christie's doing that it-takes-a-village thing where you get to hang out with other parents and their kids. and a nanny who wasn't mine.

we left early that sunday to get back to dallas for a book signing by "uncle don". this was where we purchased our insurance engagement rings: matching fancy diamelle numbers elasticized together in two rows. mine sparkles in the light with all the colors of the rainbow. we giggled like schoolgirls making sure my parents didn't see what we were up to. we will be grounded. you will see. one day.

at the 11th hour, we went to find a pumpkin... brian took a half day off the friday before halloween so we could procure costume particulates and the most widely recognized and wildly popular member of the gourd family.

in order to pay homage to brian's old employer, the condom store, which went up in a flame of molten latex when the neighboring arcadia theater caught afire, we went to the gardening center cum pumpkin patch temporarily occupying the scorched earth left behind.

"red warty".


daddy empties his wallet. good photo of mommy with pumpkin memorial in background showing where the S, XL, and XXL condoms used to hang.


another good photo of mommy. oliver's new sibling.


the triplets. the twins.


proof that we purchsed the pumpkin on greenville.


oliver kicked it in the backseat while brian ran into the garland road thriftstore. i took note of how the vast majority of thirftstore patrons enjoy having items dangling from their rearview mirrors. we had nothing dangling. brian came back with two sadly neglected baby dolls. one was a hard body cabbage patch doll, if you know what i mean. according to the verbiage which would issue forth from her mouth when you pressed her outward facing belly button, she used to have a kickboard. if you were tired of listening to her yammer about her enjoyment with the kickboard, you could turn her off by pressing gently on her asshole. in case things ever go awry with brian and depending on your goal, you all might do well to remember that this is the way to turn me off also.

more later.
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