I had to pull out one of my favorite photos of dear Paco, our little worrier, our poet. He used to guard the pumpkins, or so it seemed, perhaps worrying they might hurt when bitten.
But I want you all to know that tonight at midnight we will celebrate as always in the Pumpkin Patch of Old Souls where so many former Misfits are buried. It has become an annual tradition, and always seems to bring out a good story to share, usually one that raises a hair or two. So check back tomorrow for my report of the evening.
And wish me luck, I'm hoping I don't get egged like I did last year as I left the barnyard.
