October kicks my pumpkin every year. Frightfully busy. At least this year I was prepared for it - last year I just stayed moaning in a fetal position for 31 days and was a witch to everyone. This year I have said HALL-OWEEN NO to almost everything that was asked of me by anyone I did not birth (or birth with) - that has helped.
As much as I wanted to carry those puns forward, I'm just too tired. I know you're relieved.
Although I do believe "kicks my pumpkin" is a keeper.
"What he needs is a good pumpkin-kickin'."
I do so amuse myself.
As soon my eyes quit twitching and the 18 laundry baskets full of whoknowswhatall are emptied I shall finish my adoption conference update but until then, I want to share a cartoon my friend Lyla sent me today, which hit way, way too close to home. Rather, my second home, which is currently parked in my driveway fermenting who knows what: