Something spooky, and rather Sheena Eastonesque, has happened on this very site just in time for Halloween. Until a few days ago, I used a plugin called WPForms on the Contact page. This weekend it came to my attention that a mischievous ghost or malevolent spirit caused something to go haywire with that.

If you sent a message through the Contact form any time since October 4th, I have no record of it. I’m not sure what’s more frightening, that my “Thanks for reaching out!” auto-response wasn’t shown to anyone who submitted a note this month, or that a reader might’ve felt ignored after not hearing back from me.

Sincerest apologies for that snafu. For now, you can leave a comment directly on the Contact page (no WPForms involved) if you want to get in touch. While I can’t travel back in time and save or respond to lost notes, I can share with you conciliatory photos of pumpkins.

Every year my wife asks “What should I carve?” And every year I reply “Bea Arthur.” This is our ninth Halloween together and she has not yet felt ready to undertake such a solemn task; she says she wouldn’t forgive herself if the likeness wasn’t perfect. My second most-popular request, Charles Nelson Reilly, is also ignored—a dream Halloween setup would be an entire Match Game panel of pumpkins on the porch.

Our annual carving tradition begins, of course, with the selection of the pumpkin(s). It’s a mysterious and somewhat mystical process, and sometimes takes so long that I could wander away and watch The Godfather trilogy in its entirety, or even start a new family in another city, while Crankenstein examines pumpkins. My involvement is minimal—mostly I’m there to provide emotional support or swipe the credit card as she protectively cradles The Chosen One(s).

Back home, I locate the LED tealight candles and carving tools she’ll need later, and we watch Halloween-themed episodes of shows like Bob’s Burgers, Roseanne, Parks & Recreation and Brooklyn Nine-Nine. During this period of relaxation, Crankenstein cracks open a beer and begins sketching on paper. Once she’s determined how she wants things configured, she sets to work drawing on the pumpkin itself, not stenciling.

The Louise Belcher pumpkin pictured above was drawn between sips of beer. Its casual perfection perplexed me (I can’t draw to save my life), but the neighborhood kids enjoyed it, much as a neighborhood cardiologist enjoyed last year’s heart pumpkin. This year she’s kept mum on what she plans to carve. Once again I suspect it won’t be Bea Arthur.