Super Ghoul Finds

I'm glad that these items exist, even if I don't particularly want some of them (pyro pet).

 Pyro Pet

Bat Platter

Sugar Skull Wallpaper

Skull Planters

A Very Empty Tree

Nightmare Before Christmas Salt and Pepper Shakers

Skull Necklace

Dancing Skeleton Tank

Monster Madness

John Kenn does these amazing drawings of monster and human interactions. Some of these interactions could be quite alright. Others...not so much. But what masterpieces!

My Beloved Monster

Eels

This has been the most wonderful Halloween season ever. October, I'll be sad to see you go.

Three days until a trip to Hilton Head Island with Mr. Weichman, my dad, stepmother, and Wybie!

Cy Twombly

Untitled (Scenes from an ideal Marriage)-1986

"I have so much of you in my heart..." -John Keats

Sam Wolfe Connelly

Sam Wolfe Connelly's works are exquisite and spooky and beautiful.

Gaze

Annual Pumpkin Carving Night at 1712

Chuck Groenick

I don't think that I can be anymore in love with Chuck Groenick's illustrations than I already am. The colors! The characters! The mood! The way that they make me feel! 

LIGHT and Goats

Trey and I went to Bruce Munro's LIGHT exhibition at Cheekwood Botanical Gardens in Nashville, Tennessee last weekend and let me tell you... it was spectacular. The weather was perfectly chilly and really, it couldn't have been better. Munro used all kinds of inventive materials and who knows how much optic fiber to create a surreal environment for people to walk through and enjoy. I tried to keep myself from seeing the exhibition through my camera lens. However, I couldn't help but snap a couple of pictures, even if they wouldn't come anywhere close to doing it justice.

The rest of the weekend was spent at home with my family. Trey and Jon had a blast playing I Spy and throwing rocks into the river at Mcfarland Park. It's fun to watch Trey fall more and more in love with Florence every time we go. It's also fun to watch Jon get closer to Trey every time they see each other. A few of the fun things that we did: we went to Trowbridge's and McGee Pumpkin Patch where we grabbed a couple of pumpkins and watched goats do goat things!

 It was a perfect weekend with perfect people.

Abigail's Day

Happy birthday, dearest Abigail.

Four years ago, you and I met through mutual acquaintances. We saw each other around UA and eventually I started driving you across campus when you didn't feel like walking. Then, I listened to you talk about being homesick and I wanted so badly to drive you to Huntsville, right then and there. Then, the next thing I knew, I was excitedly running to your car to see your new, spunky, pixie cut and help you unload your birthday presents from a trip home. 

That was when I knew that we were friends. As we walked from your car, I listened to you tell me about the latest news in your life and I genuinely cared. I was so glad that you were able to visit home. I was happy that you got a break from being homesick. I celebrated with you after you made big decisions and I realized that I was carefully thinking over all of the things that you confided to me, so that I could always give you the very best advice and guidance. I prayed for you when you were down or felt stressed. I counted on you to brighten my days with your voices and your perversions. You didn't let me stay inside all summer when I deemed it "too hot to be alive". You made me pancakes. You didn't judge me for spending days making paper snowflakes, swans, or other holiday decorations. You were you and I needed that. I needed an Abbey Crain in my life, and I still do. 

We both have come so far over the past four years and I am honored to know you (and it's not even because you're the writer of a certain piece of journalism that sparked a much needed change in UA's Greek system). I am honored to know you because you're a stellar young woman and you fill a spot in my life that only you can fill. It's kind of this odd shape, you see? It sort of is the shape of a girl in some sort of strange outfit and if anyone else tried to fit in it, it would just be like trying to force a corner puzzle piece into the center of the puzzle. It just wouldn't work. So, it's gotta be you. Here's to many more years with you and thank you for everything, Bobbigail.

Happy birthday to the shining Abigail Crain. I've heard that 22 feels pretty good.

Orange.

"Pumpkin" is one of my favorite words. I love the way it feels on my lips and tongue as I say it. I love the way it looks in writing or in type. I love how silly it sounds. I love to imagine it being said in a very serious situation. I love the poems and limericks where pumpkins are used as chairs, houses, or heads. I love the colors of pumpkins. I love the way that they have so much character. Sure, people can feel this way about all produce and yes, carrots are beautiful. As are tomatoes and eggplants. But, pumpkins. To me,  one of the most wonderful sights is a field, crate, cardboard box, or set of arms or hands with pumpkins in them. 

Tess and I took our annual trip to the Old Baker Farm's pumpkin patch. She brought her charming boyfriend, Mac and the three of us meandered through the pumpkins and picked a sunflower and pumpkin friends to take home with us. 

October is full this year and I am constantly on the go-go-go. Though I am very busy with studying and living a very scheduled life, I'm as happy as can be. My heart feels like it has stepped out for a while to be replaced by a lit jack-o-lantern, gleaming and glowing and not burning out. It'll be replaced by a tangled knot of Christmas lights in December.

 I won't see my bloody corazon until February when the cold weather moves on.

October

I don't think I'll ever forget watching my dad rake all of the leaves in the yard into huge piles. He would always wear a sweatshirt and jeans. I remember looking out my bedroom window to the hill behind my house at the heaps of leaves that my dad was making as he worked his way down the hill. They looked like huge bears sleeping in the dips of the hill. These were the most perfect days. It didn't matter that leaves got in your socks. It didn't matter if they found their way into your sweater. It didn't matter if they got tangled in your hair. 

I have that dark green sweatshirt that my dad used to wear as he worked. I smell leaves when I see it and I think of hugging my dad when I wear it.

How I wish that I could go back to one of those days. Back to when I was six, and I stood in a pile of leaves as if they were a swimming pool, thinking that I could dive into the pile and never find the bottom. I would say, "Hey, Dad. Watch this." Over and over and over and over and over. Then, "Wait, I wasn't ready. I messed up. Now, watch." Andy would be laughing next to me and tossing leaves up above us. My dad would bury himself in the leaves and it would be impossible to find him. When he would throw us into the piles, if the piles were thick enough. When he would tell us that the leaves were too wet to play in after a rainstorm, but we would do it anyway and immediately regret our decision when we found a wet leaf stuck to our hand or a slug on one of our faces. 

Or, maybe when I was ten and I knew that I was too big to dive into the leaves. But, I could still lay in them and throw them up into the air and watch them fall down. I would help rake and the wooden handle would form blisters on my hands. I would go across the street to my neighbor's house and roll down the hill into the mountain of leaves that spilled from the bottom of her yard, into the gutter, and then into the street. 

Instead of going back, I'll just stay in the present and go to pumpkin patches. I'll drive myself down winding, country roads. I'll turn my music off on my walk to class and listen to the leaves crunch under my shoes. I'll go on trips. I'll wear my dad's sweatshirt and feel even more thankful for the sweet gifts that autumn brings.