A Day at the Pumpkin Patch

So Theo and I went to the Pumpkin Patch this morning in all of our travels. The weather was kind of gross, and he had an OSU hat on, but we perservered.

Naturally, I am incapable of taking the picture when he actually turns around and smiles at me, mostly because I'm too busy dancing or being an idiot to get him to smile in the first place. But I think we get the idea that he liked the pumpkins...

Here's the only one I got of him looking at me. I think it was because he was trying to figure out how to keep that gourd he latched on to without me knowing...

There's the gourd. He tried to lift the big pumpkin, but the gourd was hindering progress and he wouldn't put it down.

He laughed and laughed at the "ghost" pumpkins.

I thought I snapped this one when he was smiling at me, but instead I got him running away. Probably because he just realized I threw the gourd on top of a stack of hay bales when he wasn't looking...

We painted our pumpkins and gave them to some of our favorite people. (Or will be giving them to some of our favorite people!) Enjoy!

To clarify a few things...

1. A 20 hour work week is what is stated in my job agreement. This was clearly before "other duties as assigned" came into play. That phrase is worth another 25, easy.

2. Grad school is not an equivalent to undergrad in any way shape or form.

3. Subjective grading is an ok thing. It's actually probably better than your juvenile rubrics that you first year grad students ask for. Also, docking points for a "distracting necklace" is just run of the mill pearls hating behavior.

4. I am too old for some of this crap.

5. Trying to get an apartment that I can move into by December 15 is like asking the Red Sea to part again because I dropped something on the walk across.

Just so everyone knows.

The OU/TX Age-o-Meter

So it's happened. On the OU / TX Age-o-Meter I have slipped past fun collegiate that doesn't care how much her On the Border tab is to the grad kid that goes home for the weekend to work on power point presentations. That's right. I'm THAT kid.

I realized as I bought a bottle of Beat Texas Chardonnay to take to my grandparent's house for the game, that I am a full on 23 with all of its implications. I'm not going down to the West End to do my best to get arrested by the horse police. I am not going to stagger through the Texas State Fair and yell Sooner to whatever drunken frat boy yells Boomer. Part of the problem is I didn't really do much of any of this as an undergrad when it would have been a bit more acceptable. Unfortunately, I ALWAYS knew what my tab was.

And I am not going to THE GAME.

Ah, THE GAME. A stadium divided, the good and the bad, the crimson and the ugly. No matter who is good and who is bad, what the score was last year or the fact that we handed them their two worst defeats in school history while I WAS THERE, the game is unbelievable. The Boomer and the Sooner chanting, them yelling Texas and we respond with SUCKS. When we sing "I've been working on the railroad" to their fight song. It is a GOOD time. And I'm not going.

I have decided that this movement on the Age-o-Meter is ok. It just means that next time I got to Big D I won't have to share my room with 12 other sorority sisters. I'll get to blowdry my hair at a normal time with no fear of blowing breakers. I'll get to go to a bar without worrying that one of the girls with me will get caught with a fake. And my game tickets WILL ROCK.

So I salute you, drunken West-Enders. Yell Boomer and Texas Sucks for us all. Especially for me as I lay on the couch and drink a glass of wine and watch the whole thing on a big screen.

Wait, why did I want to go to the game in the first place?