The pumpkin is now in the basement, in a box, where I can't see it--or hear it, either.
I better smell everything, while I'm at it.
Hey, did anyone over there see when the great pumpkin came back?
He brought Ghostie with him. I don't much like Ghostie, he's a cheerful sot, way too cheerful and stands way too tall. He annoys me in a ghostly, cheerful, tall, sort of way.
Kramer, are you down there? The Great Pumpkin came back along with annoying Ghostie but you are not invited to the party.
Ha! That's how much you know. I am the party. I am a party animal. You are just a squinty, annoying cat. I will not even look at you until you apologize for wearing my handsome, manly devil costume. See me ignoring you? See? 
Well, all-rightie-then, if you're going to be that way, see if I care. I'll just see what is in the pumpkin.
Oof! It's kind of a tight fit, but I can do it because I'm pretty. Not squinty! Pretty. And pretty darn flexible, too.
And then I turn around a few times and then some more.
Aah! This is the perfect spot 
Until she starts to snore. It echoes. An echoing-snoring-cat-in-a-pumpkin is not any one's idea of great Halloween fun. 
A snoring, Halloween-pumpkin-cat is enough to give Kramer the evil eye. 
This is a magic broom. It was brought from our neighbor's house to poke into the tree to, hopefully, retrieve the football the broom owner's son and his two friends threw up there. One poke and the tree burped two footballs. I took the broom over to the owners house after waiting to see if it would fly there by itself and while there I took a picture of their Jack-O-Lanterns. 
Phil and I looked at the ice cream lid and saw a ghost and, at the bottom, a goblin. Not as impressive as a weeping Madonna statue, is it? But still. A ghost and a goblin. I wonder if I could sell it on ebay for a thousand dollars. Too late, it's in the garbage.
And then, to round out our exciting evening we watched to see who had the heaviest pumpkin in Cooperstown, New York. The winner, One thousand two hundred some odd pounds. 
I tell you, our life is just one round of excitement after another around here. Try to keep up.
Because he had been replaced in his mother's heart by this orange fellow. 
Of course that isn't true. She had forgotten her camera and I told her I would post these on my blog but I doubt she remembers my blog name of it so if you recognize them let her know so she can pick up her photos.
Then we dashed to J-Dawg for our weekly fix. While there we saw these wasp traps but no wasps are inside. Bees! Bees? Why?
Because the bees have found the Mountain Dew and the Pepsi. They seem to prefer the Mountain Dew best. How perplexing for J and his Dawgs. 
Today, I went on a clandestine drug buy. We cruised by this car. Gilmore Girl rolled down the window and said, "Are you Wendy?" or maybe it was "Kathy." I've blocked it out of my mind. No, it wasn't Wendy-Kathy, it was someone else, waiting for a different clandestine encounter.
When Wendy-Kathy DID show up she and Gilmore Girl exchanged merchandise--right out of the trunk--for money.
Okay, it was a yellow swing-thingie for a toddler. But it made a good story for a minute.
Then we went to Cafe Rio. 
For some reason the thrill is gone. Not as good as it used to be or maybe I'm just a J-Dawg girl now. We did eat outside and that part was nice, kind of. We wiped the table after we ate and our napkin became black. Glad that happened after we ate. Well, maybe not.
Tuesday said, twice or three times, "I want to see Aunt Julie." Aunt Julie is her great aunt--my sister. 
After we got home to swing a bit, because the lawn swings were calling and who knows how much longer we are going to have such divine weather--who should drop by? Aunt Julie. Who gave Tuesday some good cuddles.
And then tonight, after Phil and I slept through my newest Netflix movie--I really should be banned--Robin Hood, Men in Tights--don't tell me--you love it--our good friend Shannon dropped by to tell us of her exciting life. We lapped it up because we are boring and she is not. Isn't she cute? And she's available, if anyone knows a forty-ish-fifty-isn dishy man.
And now Phil is watching Good Neighbors and I'm blogging and just getting ready to go blog watching.
See you in the funny papers. Or on your blog, whichever comes first.
And this one is dressed up as "Road Kill."
ExCUSe me? You are interrupting my beauty sleep.
Howrude!
