You wanna see something REALLY scary?

Well, folks... we're all settled in Chaska. And by "settled", I mean we are all sleeping indoors. But that's about it. There are boxes everywhere, especially in the garage where they inhibit my ability to enjoy the brisk walk between the interior garage door (that enters into our new mud room -- also known as my dining facility) and the exterior garage door that leads to my new bathroom. You see, I suspect that at any moment a sword-wielding troll or garden gnome could leap from behind one of the boxes to challenge me to a duel. Well, I'm not much for sword fights, so I choose to sprint past the boxes as quickly as possible. The good news is that I overheard Momma saying to Stew last night, "I'm not being critical... but could you maybe pick up around here? It's getting a bit messy." In typical Stew fashion, he responded with a gleeful "sure!" while simultaneously turning his back, rolling his eyes and mouthing "whatever!" He's such an 8th grade schoolgirl. Anyway, I just wish my Aunt Susan were here around the clock to escort me through the garage because she has a way with gnomes. In fact, several gnomes live with her, and she even wears a t-shirt with a picture of a gnome on it. Who does that? Aunt Susan the Gnome Whisperer, that's who!

Speaking of gnomes and trolls, Stew is angrily walking around the house complaining about having to dish out free candy to (as he calls them) "the little neighborhood darlings". This tells me it's the time of year when I'm banished to the basement before the doorbell rings followed by faint cries of "trick or treat" from tiny voices (and the occasional pack of ghostly-looking mutts). Stew's angry because there are actually kids in our new neighborhood, so the doorbell's going to be very active. You see, the doorbell rang an average of two times on Halloween in the nearly 10 years Stew and Momma lived in Robbinsdale. But I hear Claire is going to be responsible for handing out candy since she's the only one in the family who owns a Halloween candy bucket. Grandma Helen brought her the bucket last week. It's orange with a spooky jack-o-lantern face. Oh, and speaking of neighborhood kids... our nextdoor neighbor stopped over to introduce herself last evening. I barked incessantly until her 4-year old daughter finally started to cry, then I retired to the mud room for some delicious dry dog food. Anyway, it turns out the little girl's name is "Clare", and they have a dog named "Berkley". As you know, we have a Claire who lives here with us. In fact, she's tugging on my ear as I type this posting. Plus, I have a cousin - a Bernese Mountain Dog - who goes by the name "Berkley" and lives amongst Aunt Susan's garden gnomes. I'm including a picture of cousin Berkley taken on the patio of our old Robbinsdale doghouse. Isn't he handsome?

And now for the scary part... As it turns out, Stew and Momma actually accepted an invitation to attend a Halloween costume party. I won't divulge their costumes just yet, but I'll try to post a picture of them on Monday. What I can tell you is that Stew eliminated "Joe the Plumber" from consideration because - after much thought and experimentation - Stew could not figure out how to drink beer with his head shoved firmly and deeply up his own ass. Sorry, Joe! Better luck next year when you'll be "Joe the Plumber who, despite being a major dumbass, actually had his taxes cut by more than $1,000 under an Obama Administration so now maybe he could pay his back taxes and/or buy a plumbing license".

Well, I gotta go. My head is throbbing because I just heard yet another John McCain speech on CNN while writing this post. I don't think I can take four more years of listening to an uninspiring rich white guy who makes you want to stab yourself in the ear whenever you hear him speak. And don't cha git me started on dat folksy Sarah Palin voice... Ugh!!!!!! I say someone ought to propose a Constitutional amendment that: A] forces you to retire from the federal government at the age of 70 yrs (this means you, too, Democratic Senators Kennedy and Byrd), and B] states that no more people who are [quote] "just like us" are allowed to run for President or VP. I prefer someone BETTER than me -- or better than anyone else I actually know -- to run the free world. Otherwise, you end up with another guy that people want to sit down with and drink a beer (who also eats kittens). Ugh, again!!!!!