This year, we hit the pumpkin patch the day before Halloween–we were late enough in the season that we missed the Triple Crown of Pig Racing (The PigTucky, The Boarmont, and The Squeakness), but we did manage to be there for the very last races of the season.

The girl who was called upon to bless the race by kissing a pig was less than thrilled about her new duty–nor was the pig, judging from the high pitched squeals.

This year, I again wagered on Arnold Schwartzenhogger, who failed to come through for me. However, given the small betting pool owing to the drizzly day, a few members of our group ended up winning pig racing t-shirts, suitable for nearly any occasion, from church to fundraising dinner to couch with ease.

Afterward, we went to visit the tiny pink horses in the barn to congratulate them on a job well done. The larger pigs were eating, but the smaller pigs were curled up in an adorable pig pile under a heating lamp. I could almost, almost taste the hot dogs in the air.

Awww, look at those cute faces! Wait, what? Let’s look at that sign a little closer:

Sponsored by Bacon Forever!? Well, I guess if they’ve got to go, at least it will be as something delicious. As opposed to “Sponsored by Dry Pork Chops” or “Brought to you by the amazing odor of Stankwurst” or “Presented by Bluudenhoxxencakes”.

We ended up only doing half of the corn maze this year; the ground was so sloppy and muddy and we had to concentrate so hard on simply not wiping out that it was less fun than it should have been. The mud, however, only enhanced the monster truck ride.

My hair was caked with mud, mud was splattered up Aisling’s back, and a large splotch nailed Jason on the head. While getting muddy was fun, trying to clean off chunks of it when I’d already connotated mud with poo in my head meant I spent a decent amount of time trying to hold back my urge to vomit, smelling poo when there was none, and retching deep in my throat while wiping it off.

Daniel and Rebecca had walked the pumpkin patch and found that the few remaining pumpkins were all moldy, so instead of buying an already-decaying pumpkin, we stopped at a grocery store on our way home and bought our pumpkins there. Lots of people helped out with the party this year by bringing food, and we all ate until we were stuffed to the gills and we STILL had more food leftover. Jason ended up bringing the majority of the leftovers to work, because while I enjoy pumpkin cookies, I don’t want to eat an entire batch.

Although this year didn’t end with a vomit contest or a leaking garbage disposal or a broken dishwasher, I’m still going to confidently declare this the most successful pumpkin carving party yet!

A couple of months ago, Napoleon found a bone in our backyard. I wrested it out of his mouth and got a nip on the hand for my efforts–he really wanted to keep it and I was adamant about not letting him have it. I left it out on the patio to show Jason when he got home, but when I took him outside, the bone was gone. Whatever picked it up and moved it was not the dog, as he had been shooed indoors immediately after the bone incident and had not been out of my sight since. Whatever took the bone moved pretty fast, too–this whole scene took place over the course of no more than half an hour, from appearance to bite to banishment to disappearing act.

A few weeks later, Napoleon found another similar bone in the backyard. This time, I bribed out of his mouth with a treat, picked it up, and threw it away.

This afternoon, a different, larger bone appeared on the patio. Where are these bones coming from? What is moving them around? And what in the hell is buried in my backyard?

Some friends are getting a new puppy soon, and we were invited (read: I weaseled my way into) to come play with the little fluffballs. If there’s anything better than a pile of snoozy puppies, I’ve yet to see evidence of it.

I’ve repeatedly threatened to Napoleon that we are going to take him to a dealer and see if we can trade up to a better model. When we came home, smelling of puppies, I think he started to believe me.