Are there weird pumpkin pricing protocols in your area?
There are two farmer’s markets (quite literally, a market on a farm) right near my house.
One markets sells pumpkins based on size, starting at$6-ish. The other market sells by the pound.
You know where I went.
Those butes above set me back $4.75. The pumpkins we purchased last weekend (for decoration) cost $11 and there’s only 3 of them.
Seeing as my massage therapist had to testify, she couldn’t come over so I decided to murder some pumpkins.
(also, there’s two cameos in the reflection, Beans and me)
(obligatory Bailey/Pumpkin photo)
(this would be Kali cutting in front of the camera)
Right, so, back to pumpkins.
By now, we’re well acquainted my my sheer lack of artistic talent (see “animal crackers” and “gingerbread bears“)… So before taking a knife to the pumpkins…
It was rather ironic that I used a grape scented marker to pattern my pumpkins…
And so the supervision began:
Once Bailey approved my cleaning, the fun really began.
Holy crap, could it be?
Did I actually carve halfway what I wanted to?!?
Less the skull & crossbones looking a bit cartoonish…
It’s not something I hide… my lack of conventional religion.
However, being the curious creature that I am, I often find myself listening to Catholic Radio when there’s nothing musically intriguing on the dial.
Often, these sessions leave me with more questions than answers and I find myself wondering why I listen… I hardly agree with what is being said, thinking that what I call chance some call Divine Intervention.
I guess it’s more of a trying-to-see-it-from-the-other-side. What is it that makes religions so rampant?
Perhaps it’s part of me thinking/wondering if I’m missing something in my life (Nat, so help me if you say “babies!”). Am I shorting myself because I don’t get faith and all things church/mosque/temple related? Why is this not a big deal to me?
Not that I’m looking for answers to questions, but what do you find yourself doing that you don’t know why you do it?
I know and you know that when I’m walking, I have the right-of-way.
When I wave you though the intersection, the least you can do is wave back.
I will remember your face, namely your scowl and next time, I will enter the intersection.
Believe you me… I want to get hit as much as you want to hit me.
Put down the cell phone and realize that white outlined stop signs aren’t optional.
Dear Guy in the Library Who Tried to Pick Me Up,
Your whole, “I seen you around and well, was wondering if you was single.”
However, girls who are dressed business-like and in a library are often sticklers for proper grammar.
Even if I wasn’t taken.
Please stop stalking me from behind the spinner of New Young Adult Fiction. Dear Driver,
Looking to your right while turning your wheel left, into a crosswalk and not using a blinker while a cop is across the street is not a good idea.
Bonus points because I was a couple feet from your car.
But I’m sure you’re really important and have good insurance.
Maybe I like walking.
It’s not like it’s -4 out. Yet.
Save your pity stares for the bum in front of Rite Aid.
Were you calling me “gorgeous” or was your Turrets acting up?
It’s hard to tell with you downtown folk.
PITA*, trying to be all small-talk: Hey.
me, typing a report: Hey.
PITA: How’s that [spec] book [that I gave you four days ago and is 200+ pages without any real information available] coming along?
me, typing: It’s coming along.
me, slightly annoyed: Yup.
PITA: Okay, I’ll come back in a little while then.
me: No. I’ll come to you when it’s preliminarily done.
PITA, shocked: Well. Okay then.
What is it with people not realizing that the more they bother the minions, the less miniony work gets done?!
While at the pavilion at the cemetery, someone from the military was there making a speech about all the kick-ass service grandpa did.
At the end of it, she mentioned that he had received a purple heart; that’s a medal for being injured during combat.
A whisper comes over the crowd! “We had no idea!”
At the luncheon, Mom and I were talking about the award.
“Gee Mom, why was everyone so surprised to hear he got the purple heart?”
“Even Grandma didn’t know that!”, she commented.
“What are you talking about?”, I ask.
“What makes you think that he got hurt during the war?”, Mom asks, looking confused/interested.
“He told me that he got his junk shot off and that’s why he had an ostomy bag!”
“He did what?”, as Mom tries to contain her laughter.
“He told me that he got shot in the junk! I’ve been telling my friends that Grandpa got his junk shot off and Grandma stayed with him!”
“No honey, he had prostate cancer.”
Back at Grandma’s and knowing Grandpa, I ask my other cousins what they were told.
The two older boys were told that while sleeping, Grandpa was stabbed with a bayonet.
The younger cousin was told that Grandpa was attacked by a cougar or a tiger; depending which day it was.
That man hook-lined-and-sinkered all of us.
Pretty sure I can hear him slapping his knee and laughing.
Understandably, I was a bit emotional yesterday when I called Steve.
Of course he picked up mid-wail and this made him laugh.
After he got home and I went though crying phase 207, he mentioned that the following scene reminded him of what I sounded like.
Grandpa, 79, died Tuesday October 13, 2009 at home. Grandpa was born on November 8, 1921 in Waynesboro, PA . He met Anna, his wife to-be when he was 15 years old. They have been happily married since 1942. Grandpa leaves behind his wife of 67 years, Anna and four children: George R. (Rob) III (Judy), Chryle Ann (deceased 1994), Susan (Jerry) and Karen . He also leaves seven grandchildren and three great-grandchildren. He was preceded in death by his brother, Lucien , sister Jane , and daughter Chryle. Grandpa graduated from Waynesboro High School in 1941 where he ran track and played football under coach Rip Engle. He spent his summers working with the Civilian Conservation Corps before joining the U.S. Army. Grandpa also helped organize and played semi-professional football for the Waynesboro Tigers. Grandpa is a retired Army Sergeant First Class. During WW II, he served in the South Pacific with the 5th U.S. Air Force, island hopping from southern tip of New Guinea to Luzon, Philippines. He also served in the Korean Conflict with the PA National Guard’s 176th Armor Self-Propelled Artillery from Puson to the Iron Triangle. He received numerous combat ribbons and awards. In October 1943, Grandpa crossed the Equator and went through the initiation to receive his “shellback” from King Neptune. He worked as Chief, Small Arms Repair Shop. His love was auctioneering. He was offered the opportunity to conduct an auction sale for surplus Army, Navy and Air Force equipment which subsequently led to becoming the first DoD government auctioneer. That career move transferred him to the Defense Supply Agency in Cameron Station, VA, and in 1962 to Battle Creek, MI, where he helped start the Defense Property Disposal Service. His auctioneering career spanned over 20 years. He conducted DoD government auctions in most States, including Hawaii and Alaska. He was a two-time recipient of the Defense Meritorious Civilian Service Award; the Civilian of the Year (1965), and the “Million Mile” Award from United Airlines. He was youth counselor, Boy Scout Leader, Binder Park Zoo docent, volunteer at Kellogg Forest, avid hunter and fisherman. He owned and operated a nursery. Since retirement he traveled extensively including a travel trailer trip to and from Alaska. He is a member of the Westlake Presbyterian Church; a 32nd degree Mason, V.F.W. and a Kentucky Colonel. He received the “Lion of the Year” award from Everglade City, FL Lion’s Club. His smile and humor will be missed by all. Memorial contributions may be given to American Cancer Society.
(edited to respect our privacy, but not for grammar.)