little boxes on the hillside, little boxes made of ticky tacky

so, it's totally weird to do the 'cliche' things i never thought i would do, but now find myself participating with total compliance. case in point: pumpkin patch pictures. why must society require parents to drive to a patch, place their child on a pumpkin, and snap an image or 4,000? WHY!?

whatever, i am going with it.

because it was fun.

and, because, dear god, the pictures make me nauseated they are so cute. i mean, is he really cute, or am i just ridiculously biased? you know what? don't answer that. i don't care.

additionally, pig races? really arkansas? really? (they painted a little spot on them. i picked the green one. his name is hamlet. he came in dead last. every race.) (and, for the record, i did not see my first real pig up close and in person (that i remember) until the oklahoma state fair in college. they most certianly do not 'oink' - who even came up with that?) nater boots slept through his first pig races. shame on him. how will he ever grow up to be a proper country boy?

also, apple gourds? coooool. billy goats named billy? feisty. tank tops? yes, the weather was warm enough to wear a tank top to the patch. awesome. and? the owl hat? compliments of audra.

in conclusion, i swear to god, (ya'll) if i put a picture of my child in a santa hat or inside a present box with some sort of bow anywhere on his body on this blog, shoot me dead. (let's not remember this line come december, hmmm? i don't THINK it will happen, but just in case, ok?)

and, finally, the dodgers. yea. let's make a come back, and let's kick some phillie arse. nice post-season work, joe torre. the yankees must miss you. ( i can NOT believe i am cheering for manny ramirez.) (we're talking baseball here, friends.)

3m, 2w, 3d