19 October 2003 ~ WHAT ARE YOU PEOPLE DOING TO MY KITCHEN?

Presently, I am sitting at the computer, covered in dried pumpkin mush.

This came about because I decided that, what the fuck -- Jake and I should buy some pumpkins at the farm down the street, and make jack-o-lanterns. Jake's nephew (henceforth known as the Kiddo), missed out on Hallowe'en last year, because his uncle was in jail and everybody else was pretty traumatized. Last year was just horrible. I decided that something had to be done to make this year a better one.

So, Jake and I went to the farm. We walked through the hay maze, petted piggies and kitties, rode on a hay ride, and then selected our pumpkins. For some stupidassed reason, I picked up the biggest pumpkin in the whole, beautiful, bright orange field. Five or six freaking ACRES of pumpkins, and I had to find the biggest one... Jake picked a medium-sized one and I picked out a smaller one. The big one was for Jake; the medium was for me; and the little one was for the Kiddo.

The Kiddo would have none of that, of course. He requested the big one. Scratch that. He yelled, "MINE'S THE BIG ONE!!!"

Right.

We had bought SIXTY-FIVE POUNDS' worth of pumpkins. Oh, and five or six bucks' worth of apples for making applesauce with. I'm really big into homemade applesauce. It makes great almost free Christmas presents.

Anyway...

So, I showed Jake and the Kiddo how to carve pumpkins. I couldn't believe that Jake had never carved a pumpkin before. I mean, after you've scuba dived on a 2-mile-long island in the Pacific, 800 miles from the nearest land; after you've been a homeless taxi driver; after you've gotten altitude sickness while chasing a fox and having a snowball fight on the Northwest's highest peak... what is there left that you haven't done?

I'll be damned, Jake has never had a jack-o-lantern. Ever.

It turns out that Jake's mom, Mrs. Jensen, doesn't much like pumpkins. At least, she doesn't much like carving them. Rather, she doesn't much like cleaning up after thecarving of them. After this evening's escapade, I can sympathize.

The trouble started when Jake put his pumpkin on his head.

The Kiddo picked up an enormous wad of mashed pumpkin, and smeared it all over his Uncle Jake's pants.

Jake retaliated. The Kiddo got pumpkin mash in his hair, down his neck, in his shirt... everywhere.

The Kiddo threw handfuls of mash at Jake. The entire kitchen was coated with a thick blanket of orange slop in a matter of minutes. It was like an orange blizzard. Neither boy, the 12-year-old or the 27-year-old, would quit throwing stuff, despite my annoyingly maternal, "BOYS!! That's enough!" (I HATE it when I sound like my mom...)

Finally, both of them crumpled into helpless heaps of laughing pumpkin/boy squish. I took that opportunity to throw a wad of mush into Jake's face. Happily, that moment is forever immortalized by Jake's camcorder.

...but, of course, he got me back.

It took approximately an hour to clean everything up. Then, I baked the pumpkin seeds with some salt, and put them in a bowl, and we set the three jack-o-lanterns outside. The Kiddo demanded that his pumpkin look "scary! Make it be PURE EVIL!" It's not quite pure evil, but it's at least sort of intimidating. Jake's is a little bit closer to "PURE EVIL!" Mine, the little pumpkin, has a very large nose and a dorky grin, exactly as I intended.

The chihuahua growled at all three of them.

The Kiddo had to take a bath before bed. All three of us were covered in slop. Mrs. Jensen wandered in at a very crucial moment in the pumpkin-slop-hurling escapade, and gave all of us a very stern, "WHAT-ARE-YOU-PEOPLE-DOING-TO-MY-KITCHEN?" look. But, at a minute later, I caught her hiding her face against a wall so that we wouldn't see her trying not to laugh.

...Next, Jake and I are going to take our bath...

*grin*

I think everybody should have a pumpkin. Everybody.

~Helena*