When Pumpkins Go Bad

Once upon a time, there were two little pumpkins.

Baby Pumpkin,

and Girl Pumpkin.

Girl Pumpkin and Baby Pumpkin were just like regular kids; they played at the park, they rode bikes, and Girl Pumpkin even went to preschool. There was just one difference–Mommy and Daddy Pumpkin were cannibals. They had a fondness for pumpkin pre-pie. Girl Pumpkin and Baby Pumpkin weren’t cannibals yet because sometimes the tiny pumpkins were dangerous.

One day, one of the tiny pumpkins came after Daddy Pumpkin with a switchblade. Luckily, Mommy Pumpkin scared the tiny pumpkin away.

And then she ate him.

Daddy Pumpkin was so relieved, he ate a snack as well.

They were so relieved that the crisis of the attacking tiny pumpkin was over, the whole family went out to dinner.

and they all lived happily ever after.


What? I didn’t say it was a bedtime story for your kids or anything…


The Difference Between Boys and Girls, Part 46

Today as we headed out the door, there were three boys walking past our house on their way home from school. All three of them had only one shoe on, while the other foot was wet-socked and bare. They were having a contest to see who could kick the other shoe down the street the furthest. My children tumbled out the front door and watched them in gape-mouthed amazement. The difference?
Violet: “Why are they doing that? Why are they kicking their shoe? Why don’t they walk with their shoes on their feet?”
Henry: “Whoa…”

The other difference is that girls are made of sugar and spice and everything nice.

Boys are made of slugs and snails and puppy dog tails. Note the dirt mustache.


A word about Boobs

In case you live under a rock, October is Breast Cancer Awareness month. Someone said that one in eight women get breast cancer. I don’t know who that someone is, but there’s pretty good chance they’re right. It also means that statistically speaking, one of my readers will most likely get the boob bug or already have it.
Ignoring things doesn’t make them go away. It only makes them worse. Like a dirty kitchen. You can pretend only so long that your counters are spotless and free of dirty dishes before you have to face the music and deal with it. Breast cancer doesn’t discriminate against age, busyness, or risk factors. It will most likely affect someone in your circle of life sometime in your life. If that person turns out to be you, I hope you congratulate yourself for finding it soon through early detection.
Since I don’t plan on blogging every day, here’s my October blog assignment for you:
1. Feel yourself up and go to the doc if you think you should. Don’t guess, know.
2. Either way, life is short. My hallmark card tendency is to say something like “live to the fullest” here, but really…that’s pretty much right.

I drew this. Turns out–i have some skills in MS Paint.


Jukebox Blogger

Apparently, I take requests now. When I logged into my facebook today someone asked me to blog. I should, right? Whenever people ask me what they should blog about, i just tell to write about what they think about. Sounds easy, right? What if your thoughts have digressed from chapters, pages and paragraphs to five word sentences?
“stop biting the table.”
“Go to the potty now.”
“Let’s sit down and read books”
“We don’t pick people’s noses.”
“Go back to bed, now.”
“Let’s all go play outside.”
“Stop shaking the sippy cup.”

I do have thoughts though.
lots and lots.
They just look like spidery rivers that
dry into dots.

Right now, I’ve been waiting forever for the season of Fall. Autumn is my middle name. For real. I’ve really been anxious to see the last of the hornets that have plagued my last yard this past month or so (did i mention i’m allergic?). But I’ve mostly been waiting to see many-tiered clouds fight for space on the horizon, and for purple-orange leaves to curl up on the ground like the tangible phalanges of summer trying to hold on to the heat rising from the ground. I love Fall for the way it makes the tips of tiny noses feel when pressed on warm cheeks, and the for the way it heralds change. I get antsy. I don’t handle sameness very well. I like to move and travel and quit and start and end and begin all the time. Maybe that’s why I like fall. Speaking of changes, that’s why I didn’t blog for a while. I think i needed a break or something. Besides, it was kind of getting to be more of the same. The internet certainly doesn’t need another blog about what cute thing my kids did today.

I’m listening to an Adele channel on pandora.com right now. Corinne Bailey Rae is crooning at me in her baby-voice. Aaaaand next. I can only make it through about half of one of her songs before I have to skip it. Please, I get enough baby talk without turning on the radio to listen to it. Regina Spektor is on now. Better. I like writing to Regina Spektor because her melencholy muse makes me introspective. I remember, I reflect.

Here’s a poem i wrote several years ago while listening to music.


I heard the midnight train go by
while lying in my bed.
Long and low came the whistle cry
and I awoke as if I was led.

Quietly I slipped outside,
and headed down the hill.
The pale moon was trying to hide
and the song of the crickets was shrill.

The tracks are cold and my feet are wet
the dew on the grass has fallen.
Cold and splinters wont stop me yet
’cause around the bend is callin’.