A Methodist church just down the road from us has dozens upon dozens of pumpkins for sale, all on display in the church's front yard - even overnight & on Sundays, when sales are closed. Can you believe that? In my hometown, these suckers would've been stolen or smashed within 24 hours, but not here. No, in provincial Portsmouth, church pumpkins are free to exist without fear of Halloween hooligans.
It's too bad we showed up on a Monday because the deals really start rolling on Wednesday. (More on baked beans in a future post. Yes, really.)
Naturally, I insisted upon taking a cheesy photo at a painted pumpkin clearly intended for small children. Please note how bizarrely midgety I look. I promise I have legs & a torso.
Nathan chose his pumpkin on stem size alone. No, that's not a creepy euphemism for anything.
After we paid, we asked the octogenarian church volunteer behind the counter to take a photo of us with our prized pumpkins. She had no idea how to use an iPhone, & it was sort of tough to teach her while I was holding a 10-lb. holiday squash, so this is what we ended up with. Not too shabby, lady, not too shabby at all.
Of course, I have to work on Saturday, which means no Halloween for me - and yes, I was even invited to something! The lovely Alana of The Good Girl Gone Blog invited me to her spooky soiree in Somerville (say that five times fast), but I'm sans costume & sans availability, so I'll have to resort to spending my favorite holiday eating fun-sized Butterfingers throughout the work day & telling anyone who asks about my head wound that this is my lazy costuming attempt at going as Sally from The Nightmare Before Christmas.