Going ball (a.k.a. pumpkin) hunting
Unkie Jon and Auntie Karen wanted to go to the Cal Poly Pumpkin Festival to “pick” pumpkins. It was more like an Easter Egg hunt since the pumpkins were already picked and just strewn about the field in a big game of make believe. Not that I know anything about Easter Eggs other than what I’ve been told. Our friends Jeff and Mary paid a visit to the patch as well.
I only speak one word when not writing this blog. It’s “BALL!” Well, with my limited verbal capacity, I spent the trip yelling “Ball! Ball!” the entire time and directing Daddy to ferry me from one constellation of pumpkins to the next. It was exhausting. I was really cute though, so everyone tolerated my challenged vocabulary. There were even sunflowers along the fence. They hide the road full of cars to perpetuate the pumpkin patch illusion, but Mommy liked them despite their role in the deception.
There was a petting zoo, but I did not pet. I watched from the safe and free side of the fence. There were sheep, ducks, donkeys, ponies, hay and poop. The animals pulled a fast one on the humans though, they structured a deal like a pennies-on-the-dollar, AAA-rated CDO sold to a hapless Harvard-halfwit pension fund manager — you scratch my back — you feed me — I poop on you.
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