The Great Pumpkin

Holy grownin' kids, Batman, I just realized that those photos on my sidebar of those three adorable gremlins ARE A YEAR OLD!

Here lies my children's childhood.
R.I.P.

Why don't you just grow up and run away and leave me to become the crazy cat lady, who pushes baby dolls around in a stroller, why don't you, children of mine?

Holy cow.
They're getting older.

Somebody make it stop!

Also, somebody make Genesis return from Ireland - the land of death and pestilence and horror and lack of Melyssas - so she can carve punkins and take photos, like last year and every last year for the past 12 years.

In the Great Pumpkin's Name,
Amen.

I have a problem.

My name is Melyssa and I am a thrift store addict.

*hi, melyssa!*

The first step to recovery is admitting you have a problem.

I do.

I brake for yard sales.

Some house wives dream of running away with the I Can't Believe it's Not Butter! guy and going to some tropical local where they can sip drinks in coconuts with little umbrellas.

I dream of running away and becoming an American Picker.

I admit I have a disease.

Picker's disease.

Recently I was with Anna (my little picker in training) and we were at Goodwill looking for Halloween costumes. Yes, we dress up, which in some circles requires us to surrender our Christian homeschooling card for a month.  Anyway, I purchased this for Anna, being blinded by the price tag - a mere $3.99! for original art work! of a ballerina! - and I didn't look too closely.

It's certainly one of a kind.

Original.

Perhaps less Dega...more Dali?

Dem four legged ballerinas are hard to come by.  She must have had an frightful time getting into a company!  I admire her persistence.  Also, the man with no legs; I can't imagine what he went through trying to find a partner.  No-legs-man with four-legged-girl = match made in ballet heaven.

Either that, or I'm looking at it all wrong and she doesn't have four legs, she only has two legs which evidently both sprout of her right hip (youch) and the man is only a man from the torso up.  He's like a centaur except instead of stately horse legs he got saddled with lady gams with bad turn-out and no ability to point.

So, it may not have been the purchase of the year.  But it has character, by golly! I sorta want to see more from this artist.  A three armed gymnast perhaps?  A two headed figure skater?  Let us have a moment of silence for extra limbed performing artists out there.  We appreciate you.  We really do.  Although we're not sure where you go to buy tights.

Pumpkins, tangerines, and other fruits

A freshly, brand spankin' new, four year old.

Punkin' patchin' with my punkins.


I would have enjoyed said punkin' patchin' more had my hair not been in the midst of a dying disaster.  My poor follicles have really taken a beating this week and I'm so overloaded with chemicals now that I'm surprised I have enough brain cells left to blog.  They have seeped through my very scalp, leaving me incapable of remembering my address, my middle name, and lines from The Princess Bride, all things I used to be able to bring to the forefront of my mind at a moment's notice.


Anybody want a peanut?


So, you'd think I'd have learned my lesson but I will most likely repeat my DIY hair color in a mere couple of months from now, seeing as how my hair is a peculiar shade of rusty...orangey...browny...but I love this peculiar shade seeing as how it is not black.  Black is what happened when I went to Sally and requested medium brown.


I like black.


It's slimming.


Goes with everything.


It's easy to accessorize.


It's timeless.


But not on my head.


People will argue with me and tell me I already have black hair. No, no, no.  When I truly DO have black hair you would see the difference.  When I have black hair, I look like Elvira.


When I try to remove the Elvira-ness, I end up with tangerine.


Which causes my husband, in an attempt to be sweet - either that or in an attempt to cover up his hysterical laughter at his wife's pumpkin head - tells me that Milla Jovovich in The Fifth Element is quite attractive.


Too bad Milla is eight feet tall, has an accent, and looks fabulous wrapped in mummy wrappings.  Other than that, yeah, I can see the resemblance.


In the middle - right smack in the middle! - of my hair disaster was our pumpkin patch field trip with our new group of homeschoolers.  A new group I'm trying to impress with my whole life in the attempts to make a friend.  When I'm not frightening them with my Morticia hairdo, I'm emotionally vomiting on them about how I got myself terminated from a childcare position.  I think I may have to find a new group.


Anyway.  Don't come to me for hair color advice.  I'm learning to love my chocolate covered tangerine locks and also beans and rice, which is all we'll be eating for the next month due to my $7.99 Sally Beauty Supply purchase becoming a $40 spree.  Sometimes being frugal stinks.  


In other news, I have a four year old.  Help.  Actually if you ask him, he'll say he's almost six.  Whatever, Grover.  Time to put him in a pickle jar.

More autumnal movies

You are so correct, my loverly five readers!  Add em on, girls:

The Nightmare Before Christmas.  Very conservative Christians and baptists probably don't watch this one...evidently I am on the edge of the flock as usual.  A good flick for Gianni to watch before bed, because Fern Gully is, in his words, 'too scary.'

The Ghost and Mr Chicken.  Come on, who doesn't LOVE Don Knotts?  If you can get past the whole murdered lady with scissors in her throat part (my girls can't) you'll find this a very fun movie indeed.

Beetlejuice.  Love the waiting room.

It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown.  Nothin' brings back childhood like Charlie!

Murder, He Says.  Sometimes (ok all the time) when my mom and little sis get together, a lot of movie quotes come out of our mouths.  And no one gets the references really.  So they just smile and nod.  But if you watch this movie, you too will have tons of one liners and you can join in our witty banter!  You know you want to!  And pass the grits with the gravy, would ya?

The Others.  When I wake up in the middle of the night cuz something went bump, this is the movie that starts playing in my head.  I squeeze my eyes shut and try not to think of creepy children.  It doesn't work, which is the sign of a really good scary movie.

The Blair Witch Project.  Sure, you all who saw it the week AFTER it was released and knew all the hype, you can go ahead and scoff.  Try going on opening night when you don't know what the heck you're seeing and see if you don't go home and sleep with a shotgun next to your bed.

The Changeling.  Remember the ball bouncing down the stairs?

The Sixth Sense.  I have a kindred spirit with Bruce Willis in this movie.  I have entire days too when no listens to a word I say or acknowledges my existence and I wonder if I too, am dead and don't realize it.  It would explain things.

This is my fifth child: Milo. He's a cocker spaniel mix. Or a crocker spaniel mixed-up, as Anna would say. He's a good doggy. He keeps my feet warm at all times, eats all the toddler messes off the floor, cleans out my car better than a shop vac, allows Gianni to torment him, never lets a ball go unplayed with, and looks at you with those yummy puppy eyes. He also has the worst gas EVER but that's another story for another time.

The crash after the Halloween sugar high. See the six inches of bed space there? That's where I sleep when Mike's on the road. Less like sleeping and more like fighting for my life. Remember the scene in Mission: Impossible 2 where Tom Cruise is hanging off the cliff by his fingernails? Like that. Bonding is precarious work, but on the plus side, they protect me from the bogey man.

Trick or treating with the Pops. One cherry sucker was all this dude needed. The small dude. The larger dude needed a beer.

Want a piece of candy, little kid?

Typical of my children: a masquerade ball princess and a zombie. Just call em Night and Day. They got enough candy to last until Easter, which is of course, the goal of any self-respecting ghoul. Ghouls have goals, don't they? They even got uber cool stuff like microwave popcorn and glow necklaces and organic juice boxes. Me, I don't give out the good stuff. In fact, I forgot to buy candy and ended up sneaking it out of what the girls collected to give to the door knockers. Shhhh! Sort of like taking money out of their allowances in order to be the Tooth Fairy. Not that I would ever do that. Right.

Birthday candles....mmmmm, a pyromaniac's dream! And the dairy free, egg free cupcakes weren't half bad. I'd include the recipe, but something tells me no one wants it...

How'd y'all survive the piggy flu epidemic? We had mild-ish cases ourselves, but it's nice to feel oh so healthy again. Gianni and I were sick on both his birthday and Mike's birthday, Mike had it for several days and the girls got fevers and one night of tossing their cookies. Hopefully, our immune systems will be so strong now that if it comes back, wham bam, thank you ma'am, we'll not even feel it. That's my story and I'm stickin' to it. I try to throw up no more than once a decade, so I'm good till 2019 now.

Other than that, life goes on as normal. I'm starting to get just a tad, just a smidge, just a hair, stressed out about our living/working/surviving situation. In lieu of flowers, please send gifts. Or a large farmhouse with a porch and a happy little tire swing and a nicely paying job for Mr Williams.

In other news, the evil and short one put my cell phone in a glass of ice water for approximately .03 seconds and that was long enough to turn it into toast. Yup. Stick a fork in it. In lieu of phone calls, please send letters.