No, for real. There is a place called Pumpkintown and they have a pumpkin-themed festival every fall. See? Here’s photographic evidence:

I figured if there were any place in the world that might be weird enough to have a pumpkin with ankles, Pumpkintown would be the place. So off we went.

Can you believe over 30,000 show up for this thing?? And all of them just stand there in the way when you’re trying to get from point A to point B, which is especially difficult when you’re trying to maneuver with a guide dog!

Anyway, Christy and I did our little investigation. What we did find:

1. Lots of homemade crafts. I got a tea cozy for my little Irish grandma! (a tea cozy is like a toboggan for a teapot—keeps your tea warm!)
2. Barbeque sandwiches and fresh mountain apples (mmm)
3. An entire section of booths decorated with Confederate flags (umm … the two Northern girls didn’t go there).
4. Some obnoxious Pomeranians in a baby stroller that barked at Reba like they wanted to take her on

(Reba, rolling her eyes): They ain’t even dogs, I mean it! Can’t even walk on their own. Man, I ain’t got the time o’ day to waste on them! [For a fuller description of Reba’s inner monologue, please visit her blog, People Are Dumb.]

5. Pumpkin butter! (we won’t think about the fate of the poor little pumpkins used to make said butter)
6. A creepy old redneck dude who tried to get us to look inside a doll-sized outhouse and talk to the Barbie inside … um … yeah … um … there is no word in the English language adequate to describe the awkward creepy crude weirdness of this moment, so I am forced to invent one: awkreepudeness. Blech!
7. A magical mini-donut making machine, in which the baby donuts float down a river of boiling oil only minutes before they are covered in cinnamon sugar and consumed. A health nightmare, but Christy found them heavenly, and I must admit they were kind of toothsome!

8. Bluegrass music

9. And finally, though not as plenteous as one might expect … pumpkins!

See how happily the children frolic in the orange round delightfulness? And not an ankle among them!

Among the pumpkins, that is. I’m assuming the children did have ankles. But the pumpkins didn’t. Pumpkins don’t have ankles.

Which is what I’ve been saying all along.

I came prepared for the festival. Not only did I practically take a bath in SPF 50 sunblock, I’m wearing a shirt with a Claddagh [pronounced clah-dah], though it’s technically an Irish symbol. The two hands represent friendship, the heart they’re holding represents love, and the crown on top represents loyalty … or at least that’s what About.com says

Others dressed up a little more for the occasion. There’s no place better than the Scottish festival to see hundreds of otherwise normal men wearing knee socks and kilts. I think this guy was part of some sort of parade or something, since he’s holding a flag of what I assume is some specific Scottish region or clan.

Wow, I feel like I’ve just stepped into a production of MacBeth. Notice this guy’s huge sword slung across his back. Yeah, it was pretty awesome.

One of my favorite parts of the festival is visiting the many specialty vendors. I purchased cool Celtic knot earrings and Christy got a Celtic mood ring. There were also kilt accessories, bagpipe pieces (apparently you have to assemble your own), swords, shortbread, flasks and bumper stickers that said things like Great Scot! We also found custom-made dog collars in the tartan patterns of hundreds of different counties and regions of Scotland. They even had some Irish counties, and we managed to find the pattern for Donegal, where my grandmother grew up (yep, I’ve got authentic Irish in me). I was going to get one for one of her toy poodles, but then I discovered they cost 24 bucks a pop. So sorry, Hershey, the thought will have to count.

Oh, did we mention the temperature outside was pushing a hundred degrees? This is why I took very few pics of me and Christy. Stops to stand in front of this oversized fan basically kept us alive. I’m soooo glad I wasn’t wearing a woolen kilt!

Then it was time to eat. Among other things, this stand is advertising (in the small print) “Haggis Pockets.” Mmmm …

So yeah, pretty much Christy got a chili dog and I got some ice cream—the kind that’s made of tiny dots. Christy insisted on my having a new (safe, American) food experience (she and her sister were also the ones who convinced me to eat the deep-fried Oreos a few weeks ago). The dots tasted great, but the only real difference I could tell between it and regular ice cream was the texture.

While we were eating and then watching a program, a dude walked by wearing a kilt and carrying an electric guitar! Alas, my camera was in my bag, and I missed what would have been the perfect cover photo for my dissertation. (As some of you may know, I am currently compiling information for a dissertation titled “People Are Weird.” At the moment I have more material than I know how to work with.) Anywho, the rest of the time, I kept my camera handy, but the electric-guitar-kilt-dude was gone.

I did manage to snap a photo of these kilt-wearing punks, complete with tattoos. It’s not the best picture because I was trying to snap a photo without them knowing I was doing it.

This very friendly Celtic warrior let us take his picture, however. He said he goes to Christy’s church. So I guess the warrior get-up is only for special occasions?

Christy and I found a shady spot and watched the border collie competitions. Using a series of whistle commands, the shepherd gets his highly-trained dog to herd a small group of sheep through a series of gates and into a pen. It was pretty amazing to watch. Christy and I felt really bad for this one guy whose dog was doing well until he was trying to get the sheep into a second pen. The dog lost control, one of the sheep panicked and ran into a fence. We think the sheep was okay, but he may have damaged part of the sheep pen.

Reba: “Mom, why can’t I chase the sheep too? That’s it. I’m switching jobs, I mean it.”

Oh, and of course, here are the Highland Games, which consist mostly of giant men in muscle shirts and kilts throwing heavy stuff. I love culture!

Then, after a stop to a nice, American Chick-fil-a and PetCo (where Christy and I decided we wanted one of everything, even the snakes), we headed home, possibly a little dehydrated and sunburned, but feeling very culturally enriched … we think.

We went to the outlet stores in Gaffney, South Carolina. That was fun in itself, but even more fun was taking three digital cameras with us and attempting photo journalism while we were there. We didn’t quite get photo journalism, but we did get this:
The cast of characters: Becky, Molly, Heidi, me and my good ol’ purple Saturn.

First stop: the sock store. Yes, in an outlet mall, you may just find an entire store devoted to selling socks.

Becky and Molly were quite thrilled.

Heidi … not so much.

So we went to Kaybee Toys instead. Heidi was much happier there. So happy she hugged a mechanical puppy. (Don’t tell Marzipan!)

We found some unusually large Pokemon. So we took pictures of them. Kawaii!! (That’s Japanese for “sappy big-eyed cuteness”)

I found a My Little Pony! It’s like a blast from the past. (It’s really sad when toys you played with as a kid are now retro). Anywho, this one wears a tutu and dances in a little circle. It’s called “Twirly Twinkle Twirl.” Seriously. I would love to know what goes on in the My Little Pony, Inc. brainstorming meetings. This name probably took like three whole minutes to come up with.

And then we found a T-shirt with a unicorn with a unibrow. Funny, but wrong.

“Wait,” you may be asking. “Is that a water tower in the shape of a giant peach?” Why yes, yes it is. Just more support for my theory that people (in this case, Southerners) are weird.

Okay, Becky, that’s not funny! Well, only kinda funny. <<for those who can’t see it, she’s looking worried about my driving >>