Ok, so Joel's class carved pumpkins for their secretaries about a week ago, and it was the first time I had to miss out on something because I was just too damned tired to go. Cue the tiny violins.
You'd think what with the disappointment and all that I'd be all for it on Saturday when Joel was like, We should carve our own pumpkins! But I am recalcitrant that way, and I wanted nothing to do with this fun-having. By now, though, Joel knows that if he just gets excited enough about something, that eventually I'll agree to do it, and that after I've acclimated myself to the idea of doing it, that I'll actually get excited as well.
By the time we hauled ourselves out to ye olde produce mart to pick up some fleshy canvasses, I'd come around. I love festive-flavored things. I thrill to traditions. We used to all carve pumpkins up at my aunt Syl's place in Kamloops, and there were so many of us that we had to do it outside and our hands would freeze from the chilly pumpkin guts.
I had wanted to go as the swine flu this year (I was thinking of affixing a few hula hoops to myself to represent....I don't know, a molecule of contagion, or something, and then glueing plastic piggies to my torso) but we weren't going out and also I am a wreck of uselessness. Instead we represented the scourge in pumpkin form.
The fellow on the right is making a break for cleaner doorsteps.