October is historically my favorite month, but this year I swear it tried to kill me. It started out so innocently and fun with a trip to Stamford, Connecticut for vending at Art-is-You. It was awesome to reconnect with some of my favorite people and make dollies do drunken things.
Ah poor drunken dollies.
I came home from Stamford and then immediately loaded the kids and the dog into The Manflesh's truck, and we drove to North Dakota, a 1600-mile drive. Along the way I officiated over my brother's wedding, which was awesome. I make goofy faces even in an official capacity.
I spent two days with my favorite cousin, which was amazing, and picked up a Harley. I also made some skulls for her kitchen since I can't seem to leave anyone's house without leaving art behind.
On the way home, I entertained myself by listening to Welcome to Nightvale, too much Sirius Octane radio (developing an unhealthy obsession with the song Moth by Hellyeah in the process), and a twerking T-rex..
Three days and many miles later, we finally crawled our way back into the homestead, unloaded the Harley, returned the trailer, and passed out.
My 17-year-old and his Harley. Yikes.
The next morning, we got a surprise houseguest, my adopted daughter Jenny. Even the dog was happy to see her, and he hadn't even met her yet.
This was two weeks of utter bananas crazy business followed by the gut-punch from the Universe, the shocking passing of my very best friend and soul-sister, Roni. I've eulogized her, mourned her, consumed too much wine, rum, vodka, and Kahlua in honor of her, and I can't even begin to explain the mad ache in my heart without her.
I'd say rest in peace, but neither of us wants that. Tear shit up, you crazy bitch. <3 <3 <3