What with all the pumpkin decomposing going on.

When we last joined our garbage on the porch story, Vampire Kitty was looking a bit saggy, a bit un-Botoxed British actress-y. And Dog Pumpkin had its dark side growing from within.

Let’s see how they’re doing…

DAY SEVEN
What a difference a day makes, eh? Poor Vampire Kitty, she seems so deflated.
DAY EIGHT
I did not see that coming! Bat lost a wing! Although, in bat hindsight, totally predictable since he was sitting by the front door a metropolitan runway with his wings all vulnerable, hanging out there.

Meanwhile, Vampire Kitty has some nasty stuff happening internally. It almost looks like my shower drain hair growing in there. Zombie pumpkin hair?
DAY NINE
There’s really no magic serum to save Vampire Kitty in this story. (As an aside, those smiling pumpkins seem to be holding up. Perhaps it is all attitude? Or that they were carved most recently…)
DAY TEN
Bat got a little triage, see? But Vampire Kitty is turning rapidly into Pancake Kitty. And she’s leaky.
DAY ELEVEN
Okay, this is just plain gross.

Which is what the Hubs finally said.

Leaving us with this:
Aw. I miss their slimy, leaky, stinky pulpiness.

(Which is also what I said about the cancellation of As the World Turns.)

Well, you laughed, you cried you were grateful not to live with me or have to come over this past week.

Thus concludes our little gourdy drama…

Pumpkin bread, anyone?

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Well, it’s November 5th, and guess what?! We have some gourd-ous decomposing activity happening on our front porch.

Hi, neighbors and hot UPS guy!

So, the pumpkin goo writing is on the wall. It’s time for an experiment, doncha think?

If I avert my eyes, how long do you think these puppies will remain melting on our porch?

I’ve already taken a few days’ worth of snaps. Here’s where we are:

DAY ONE — HALLOWEEN
Everyone looking pretty fresh.

DAY TWO FIVE
(Yes, I skipped a few days; once in a blue moon ocassionally I do have a life!)
What’s that? We have some action, people! Notice the black mold happening in the dog pumpkin. Mmmmmm.

DAY SIX
Uh-oh! Vampire Kitty’s looking a slumpy, isn’t she? So deflated and sad….

Who’s gonna come out looking good? Will Vampire Kitty flatten before Dog Pumpkin bites it? Betcha can’t wait to see! My money’s on the bat. What do you think? Also, what day will the Hubs finally notice and say GROSS!?!

Isn’t science fun, kids?!

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Oh, that’s right, I changed the title of this post…duh.
Yes! We went to the Port Townsend Kinetic Sculpture Race!

It was my first time. I was a kinetic sculpture race virgin.

And what is a kinetic sculpture race?

Just what is “kinetic,” you may wonder if you chose to grow up and not live in academia for decades like moi?

Dictionary.com says this:

ki·net·ic [ki-net-ik, kahy-]
1.pertaining to motion.
2.caused by motion.
3.characterized by movement: Running and dancing are kinetic activities.

So, this doesn’t actually say anything about “goofy” or “ridiculous” or “drunken” or “silly” or “goodoletime,” but it was. All that.

Contestants built their unique sculptures and raced on them through the streets of Port Townsend, as well as traveled on the water.
All kinds of themed sculptures competed.

Sure, many looked similar to not-so-disguised bikes with pontoons.

Fros N Peas ended up leading the water leg of the race we saw.

(“Fros,” get it? I only did just now.)
Some worked a little harder than others.
Some even carried dead weight passengers.
The pumpkin team had a smooth operation. We decided they must be engineers.The race was a bit surreal, but in a fun way.
So, you could understand why some spectators were a tad perplexed by the outlandish behaviour…
Watching all the drunken racers, we had a good laugh while the Hubs mentally designed his sculpture for next year.Check back with us next year…maybe we’ll be in race photos on someone else’s blog.

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Just a regular, old slice of Norman Rockwell.

But this year, turns out some dumb weirdo was taking a thousand photos of females, aged 11-40, at the fair and this time actually got caught.

Police charged him with voyeurism.

Yuck, right?! I know! That’s plain sick! I’m outraged!

Innnnterestiiiingly, however, we were there that morning for our annual excursion…and while I am so completely grossed out, of course, and we want that guy prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law (can you get convicted on voyuerism at a public place?), what I really want to know is….

Am I In That Camera??

I’ve been racking my brain…what was I wearing that day? How did I look? Was my hair washed? Did I make the cut??

Okay, sure I’m never telling you 39 still, a wife and a mother, but come on! I workout, I run, I O.D. on obscure vitamins and voodoo supplements, I try to take care of myself unlike when I was younger…than 39.

I’m probably not getting hired as a Project Runway model anytime soon, but still. I did recently get carded at the grocery store I go to every forty minutes week (and later, a clerk told me the age is 31 or under for carding nowadays. 31! That was… still not telling you 8 years ago!

Shouldn’t all that at least get me into a Kitsap County sicko’s camera roll?

A girl’s got her pride, doesn’t she? We women want to know we still got it or something resembling it…or something close enough that a weirdo would snap a shot of our tired boobs…don’t we?

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We all know he’s a total Alaskan gearhead (and I have the blog posts to prove it…), so natch, he’s got a cross- oops, I’ve been corrected compound bow. And plenty of raccoons roaming around a target in our yard for practice so I recommend you call first.

Yes, this was taken in our yard.

And the beauty of it? She wants to do it. She charges out of the house if he starts a-flingin’.

Whaaaaa?

Just how did he accomplish this great feat? I have no idea.

I’m wondering if he can start flinging her dirty socks across the living room.

Now, that would be helpful. Pick up those, Kid.

Of course, she is her mother’s daughter, so throughout practice he does have to endure a certain level of, shall we say, critiquing?

Dad, you missed! Dad, oh my God, that was SO FAR from the middle! AHAHAHAHAHA! Dad, I farted!

It’s hard to find good help these days.

Have you ever trained your kid to love some chore? Please share!! Maybe I can learn something!!

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Be as clear as possible when stating to the Universe what you want.

Sure, I may have said, “It’d be great to have a couple of extra bucks right about now, Universe.”

But I didn’t mean this:

Or this:

But the Hubs didn’t load fast enough they are handsome, aren’t they?

Need a couple extra bucks?

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“True happiness consists not in the multitude of friends, but in their worth and choice.”
- Samuel Johnston

“My friends are my estate.”
- Emily Dickinson

“I count myself in nothing else so happy
As in a soul rememb’ring my good friends.”
- William Shakespeare, Richard II

“Friendship is the only cement that will ever hold the world together.”
- Woodrow Wilson

Friends, they get us through rough patches; they celebrate the sunshine with us. The dearest ones see through our bullshit outward mask and into our true being and still drink with speak to us anyway.

What can possibly be better than having good friends?

I’ll tell you what–
Having good friends with chickens!

Thank you, good friends! This egg lover feels grateful for you every morning!

What do you think? Should we get chickens at chez Let the dog in?!

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It starts off with a gorgeous image, a vision of calm, peaceful order and an appreciation of community and the natural beauty in all life.

You imagine you’ll have lovely, relaxing chats with your friends and neighbors.

As the natives declare they’re BORED get restless, you quickly realize you have a big, white target “X” on your back.

You scramble to entertain the enemy your kids with music and fun, perhaps an outdoor concert.

But even the littlest soldiers revolt.
(with the very littlest fighters yelling, “BANG,” instead of firing an actual gun)

Before the actual altercations began, you fashioned yourself the guy with the biggest, loudest gun on the field, but, alas, you need to fix a martini a reality check.

In the end, your fate turns out more like the band.

And your living room, strewn with popsicle sticks dead bodies that no one is picking up…

If you’re lucky, some summer camp instructor angelic vision will come to pray for your soul.

What month is this? September, right? Whaaa?

Do you have war on your hands or a peace treaty?

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Then, two days into it you realize you have serious crankiness issues.

And not just with the kids, but with yourself.

We were going to make art books. Instead, we are making ice cream runs.

We were going to go to the beach. Day 1, we got the bottom of our foot scraped by barnacles and are “never going back to the beach again!”

We were going to read, read, read. Instead, we are marathoning Phineas and Ferb.

I guess there is still too much time to correct course, but each summer I forget my margarita recipe the uphill battle from the year before. Same soldiers, different battlefield…

So, how’s your summer going? Are you doing what you intended to do?

And most importantly, do you have a good, strong cocktail recipe to share?

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John Muir wrote of these native guys:

A King’s River Indian told me that they call him “Pillillooeet,” which, rapidly pronounced with the first syllable heavily accented, is not unlike the lusty exclamation he utters on his way up a tree when excited.

I wish I could report that I heard a “lusty exclamation.” Who wouldn’t, right? From a squirrel or anyone else…

He paused to scratch an itch. Don’t tell Becca, but this guest didn’t give a tail’s flip seem too concerned about the wirehaired pointing griffon who presides over this household.

I was concerned that the new herb garden the Hubs installed this weekend (and what do I do with five varieties of sage??) was about to get devoured. But once again, I was wrong.
This guy was all about the seeds. And yes, that would be the very post chewed on by our fierce protector when aggravated by birds on her deck.
Once realizing the Cirque du Soleil-like requirement to get to these particular seeds, he gave up.
And left as fast as he came.

And where was our fierce protector all this time, you ask?
Here, in the office, thinking about licking her butt really important thoughts.

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Did you know you can “like” Let the dog in! on Facebook? You can!

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