Quandary
I heard the wildest rumor on the radio today. Just completely unbelievable.
Naturally, I went running to Snopes to check its veracity, and I was stunned: stunned, I tell you, to learn that it was the straight dope. Apparently, we are halfway through November.
NOVEMBER, people. O, October: we hardly knew ye.
Let's briefly put aside the fact that we'll be saying good-bye to this whole year in a matter of weeks, because then I'll need to breathe into a paper bag to stave off a panic attack.
No, let's focus on a more pressing issue.
What, exactly, am I supposed to do with the small but adorable pile of ornamental gourds on my front doorstep?
A brief survey of the neighborhood reveals that mine are, in fact, the last pumpkins standing.
And I freely acknowledge that, even in its prime, this wasn't an especially impressive display. After all, it's de rigeur to hire professional crew to install Christmas lights 'round here, and I'm pretty sure that our house was one of the few without its very own pumpkin stylist.
I just know the neighbors shake their heads and tsk-tsk as they drive by.
So, fine: the gourds have to go. But it just seems cruel and heartless to toss them in the trash can along with the edamame shells and splintered chopsticks from tonight's dinner.
Especially the green curly-tailed watermelon-looking thing that looks as if it were designed by Dr. Seuss himself. I secretly wish I could give it a name and keep him as a pet.
Gourdo. Yes, that's it: I'll call him Gourdo.
Sigh. Perhaps I need a hobby. Or, more likely, a decent night's sleep. Off to bed I go...
Naturally, I went running to Snopes to check its veracity, and I was stunned: stunned, I tell you, to learn that it was the straight dope. Apparently, we are halfway through November.
NOVEMBER, people. O, October: we hardly knew ye.
Let's briefly put aside the fact that we'll be saying good-bye to this whole year in a matter of weeks, because then I'll need to breathe into a paper bag to stave off a panic attack.
No, let's focus on a more pressing issue.
What, exactly, am I supposed to do with the small but adorable pile of ornamental gourds on my front doorstep?
A brief survey of the neighborhood reveals that mine are, in fact, the last pumpkins standing. And I freely acknowledge that, even in its prime, this wasn't an especially impressive display. After all, it's de rigeur to hire professional crew to install Christmas lights 'round here, and I'm pretty sure that our house was one of the few without its very own pumpkin stylist.
I just know the neighbors shake their heads and tsk-tsk as they drive by.
So, fine: the gourds have to go. But it just seems cruel and heartless to toss them in the trash can along with the edamame shells and splintered chopsticks from tonight's dinner.
Especially the green curly-tailed watermelon-looking thing that looks as if it were designed by Dr. Seuss himself. I secretly wish I could give it a name and keep him as a pet.
Gourdo. Yes, that's it: I'll call him Gourdo.
Sigh. Perhaps I need a hobby. Or, more likely, a decent night's sleep. Off to bed I go...
posted by mrsf5 at 9:52 PM
4 Comments:
your gourds are beautiful (that's one for the quotes page) and, i feel your sadness.
every year, i sulk as november turns to december and my still gorgeous pumpkin display goes into the trash. a carved pumpkin justifies a trip to the trash. it's going to rot and seep, but the uncarved beauties (!) who know how long they will last.
i have an idea!
jennifer gave us a poinsetta last christmas that, much to our dismay, has bloomed brightly all year long. it lives on our breakfast table and brightens the entire kitchen. my mom loves to take a peek every time she comes over, in awe of its robust nature. yes, that thing shoulda' been dead in march.
so, i say move the display indoors and delight yourselves as long as the gourds have life in them, especially the dr. seuss-y green one.
we wrote "Happy New Year" on our pumpkin once. And then didn't throw it away until Valentines Day.
I reckon you outta take a Kaiser knife, some call it a "Sling blade," but I call it a kaiser knife and whack off the top o dem lil orange ones mmm huh. Then you take out them seeds and the innards mmm huh. You roast dem seeds in an iron skillet till they all warm and crispy. Mmm huh...roasted pepitas. Take them innards and add some butter and brown shuga and make you a pie fillin. Mmm huh.
Well, mine are still on the porch, other than the one that got carved for Halloween and had to have its sad-sackness moved to the compost pile. And there's precedent for naming 'em - Julian named a little white one in our table display "Pumpie" and even though Pumpie has now been glitterized (yes, closet Martha Stewart fan), J still introduces Pumpie to anyone who come to visit.
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