A Forced March for Sugar

Happy All Hallows Eve, gangsters.

. . . or whatever it's called.  I don't know.

I've never been one to really put a lot of stock into the back story concerning Halloween; I don't honestly care that much about it.  It's pumpkins, cheap costumes, and sugar - big whoop.  I'm sure at one point in time, a thousand years ago, there was a great festival around the event, and lots of naked dancing and virgin-sacrificing was to be had, but around here - in the Ginger Mill subdivision - we're short on both naked dancers and chicks who haven't been laid yet who agree to be knifed for a pumpkin.

(however that worked back in the day)

What we do have, friends, is a crapload of candy.

With that said, commence Halloween Trick or Treating 2012.  ENGAGE:

I picked up the girls from Sunchild around 5pm, and quickly force-fed them dinner in order to begin the costume suit-up process.  Trick or Treating kicked off at 7pm, and we wanted to get as much candy harvesting as possible in with the girls before they dropped dead from exhaustion. . .

Unfortunately, the pumpkins that we had carved with Papa and Nana - FOUR DAYS AGO - were already beginning to rot.  They were filled with mold and falling apart, so we were unable to light them. . . despite having stored them outside on the patio.

Yet another reason why I hate mold.  F*** you, Mold.

Kris had just gotten off of work, so unfortunately she didn't have time to get into costume for Trick or Treating

The round-up begins. . .

Dorothy, Strawberry Shortcake, and Kris.

Abby checks out her plunder.

Checking up on Toto, who lost his home in order to make room for candy. . .

Dorothy's progress

About a twenty minutes into Trick or Treating, Alayna started to grow tired and began riding in the wagon. . .

. . .Abby, on the other hand, was motivated by the prospect of copious amounts of sugar and soldiered through.

Hot wheels.

Strawberry Shortcake.  Still pumped.

Dad's turn to haul two lazy-ass children. . .

(by the way - this year, I went as a badass.)

These kids were dead on their feet after 42 minutes of Trick-or-Treating.  I blame this on their weak, Farwellian blood.

. . . though the offer of eating some of their hard-won candy seemed to keep them up a little while longer.  Go figure.

(I think Kris is wasted here. . .)

SUGAR

- Brian

It's the Great (Overpriced) Pumpkin, Charlie Brown

Hi fun-lovers,

We had ourselves some vegetable-centric fun today.  Yes sir.  I don't feel like writing a witty intro to this, so let's skip to the pics, folks.  Check it out:

The offspring play around in the backyard before heading off to scrounge up some pumpkins.

Some panoramic shots of the homestead. . .

. . .a 'Majorama Panorama,' if you will.

And here's the jungle that is our backyard.  This will be destroyed soon.

Celebration, which is creepy enough as it is, always goes balls-to-the-wall for Halloween.  This festive spirit always attracts idiots, such as the Houghs, and tricks them into paying three times the price for holiday novelties such as pumpkins.

Like I've mentioned before, this church in Celebration hosts an impressive pumpkin patch.  This is the third year in a row we've hit this place up.

This year, however, the set-up was dramatically different, and the walking space was far more constricted.

All aboard the lame train. . .

As always, the folks at the 'Patch go all out with the whole decorating thing (i.e. stuffed birds), but this year they were being Nazis with it. . .

For example, they routinely hollered at little kids whenever they sat on a pumpkin.  From a physics standpoint, I honestly don't believe my 20-pound daughter is going to put a dent into a 50-pound vegetable. . . but, then again, I always got D's in science.

Abby picks her pumpkin.

This was the best take out of a dozen.  Seriously.

The Cannonball nabs her pumpkin.

Abby as a. . . scarecrow?  Maybe?  Or a hobo.  Either way.

More pumpkins.

Over. Priced.

Nothing screams 'church' more than a pagan holiday. . .

This cat is apparently a Wiccan.

Our girls.

The Houghs.

Papa's haul.

This is the side of someone's house.  I'm hoping this is only a temporary set-up for Halloween.  If they keep this up year-round, they would exceed mankind's awesome quota.

After Celebration's fascist, over-priced pumpkin venture, we decided to swing past Kris' church (Peace United Methodist) for a second go-round of pumpkin questing.

Abby and I stumbled across the ugliest pumpkin in Central Florida.

Lifting weights.

We almost bought ugly pumpkin, but eventually opted not to.  It would've been a bitch to gut out.

Alayna is either Jazzercising or doing Kung Fu.  I'm not sure she knows how to do either, but you never know.

The girls with Papa and Nana. (this was the best take out of, oh. . . twenty)

Bein' weird.

The copycat.

The Cannonball is not impressed.

The haul.

Abby performs a lobotomy.

Gettin' in them guts. . .

She was captivated by this process, but is such a priss that she refused to get her hands dirty.

Carving Kris' pumpkin. . .

Papa prepares to bust out the traditional Joe Hough Design. . .

Nana's Pumpkin Tutorial

This is the shittiest part of the whole pumpkin carving process.  I wish these stupid things came already gutted.

Marital bliss.

Abby was fun-ed out with pumpkins after about five minutes.  Which is normal for her.

Watching the master at work. . .

Finished products.

BAM!

- Brian