Nothing but sincerity reaching out as far as the eye can see

I went to a pumpkin patch last night for the first time since I was...well, I don't remember the last time, so I'm sure I was quite young. First we explored the corn maze.

This was the first maze I had been to with living corn. And because it was living (and probably because it was a ridiculously small and simple maze), they wouldn't let you cut through. Anywhere someone had tried, they had put up signs saying "Farmer Kenny is sad because someone couldn't stay on the path." Farmer Kenny was sad a lot.

The pumpkins themselves were pretty picked over. There were some really cool bright orange ones that would have been awesome in a black light, but they were all mushy so we didn't get any of those. We did find lots of others that we liked.

We finally narrowed it down to one each (with the encouragement of the staff, who wanted us to leave because it was getting dark. They had to check us out by lantern light.)

Then off to carve! I hate the scooping out part, but the carving itself is detail-oriented enough that I like it. Here's the results:


Mine is the tall skinny one. It's my tribute to Twilight. (The guy has a pointy vampire tooth, in case that's not clear in the photo. My friends were teasing me about my x-rated pumpkin.)

So now that I've carved a pumpkin, I'm officially over Halloween and ready to move on to Thanksgiving. Who's with me?

World on fire

This week was interesting. The smoke made my eyes itch and throat sore and head hurt. But because I was not one of the nearly 1,000,000 people evacuated, I knew that it could be worse. So I tried to keep the complaining down.

Other weird things happened. For some reason, I didn't get tired at night. I stayed up until 1 at least twice without even realizing it because my body never said "you're being an idiot; go to sleep!" Even weirder, I wasn't tired during the day either.

And have you ever noticed how when you can't do something, it makes you want to do it? Last week I had to force myself to the gym, and only made it twice. This week I couldn't because of the smoke, and all I wanted to do was go running.

The worst day was Wednesday. Headache + cramps + who knows what else = grouchy Mindy. I spent the morning apologizing to everyone because I knew I was being rude and horrid but I couldn't stop. I hated it. And then, that afternoon my mood just lifted. I didn't do anything; all of a sudden I realized I didn't want to yell at people anymore. I was still a little unsure of myself, so I went to Institute rather than Bunco (better a dark classroom where I wouldn't talk to anyone than a group of friends I might offend). And that helped too.

And now the smoke has started to clear. Here's hoping this week will be much better.

Serving as an example for small children

So I went to Disneyland this weekend (I have a pass now! I can go whenever I want! I love Southern California!). We decided to go on Splash Mountain. My friend ducked out because she didn't like the drop and she thought we were going to get wet. The two of us going on the ride said she was being ridiculous.

She was right.

I was dripping at the end of it. The people behind me in the next line made some snide comment, so I responded and we chatted a little. When I turned around, my dry friend told me that some mother had passed us, pointed at me, and said, "See that lady? That's why you can't go on Splash Mountain," to her kids.

So I have found my true calling in life: being an example of what not to do at theme parks.

We're on a need to know basis, and you don't need to know

Last week I remembered why I don't tell my parents everything. It's not because I'm not trying to be devious or untruthful. I just learned at a young age that there are certain things they just don't need to know.

Example A: Conversation with Dad 1
Dad: Doing anything this weekend?
Me: I'm going to a Pat Monahan concert.
Dad: Who?
Me: Most people haven't heard of him. He's the lead singer of Train.
Dad: Who?
Me: Drops of Jupiter? Meet Virginia?
Dad: Trains go on tracks and go "toot-toot."
This is the mild version of my parental editing: they just don't understand sometimes.

Example B: Conversation with Dad 2
Dad: So how was the concert?
Me: It was really fun. I enjoyed the House of Blues.
Dad: Why's that?
Me: It's standing room only, everyone just packed in with everyone.
Dad: What if there was a fire? An emergency?
Me: There were exits.
Dad: Well, you said standing room only...
Me: I just meant there weren't chairs. It was a big hall.
This is the main reason: they worry.

I also remembered why I don't really tell my parents about boys I like, my eating habits, and how much sleep I get. They worry. And when they worry, I worry about worrying them. So why tell them?

I had an absolutely fabulous weekend hanging out with my sister. My one complaint was the snow. In SEPTEMBER.

And people wonder why I moved to Southern California.


Today it took me 50 minutes to go 3.3 miles because some idiot stole a car and turned the road I needed to be on into a police scene.

And people wonder why I don't want to live in Southern California forever.