As is the custom, I love to do some cosmetic surgery on a gourd. It is also the custom that, despite this joy of mine, I don't manage to actually get one before it is too damn late.
This year was no exception...almost. The local city pumpkin patch (a nursery that provides a few hay bales and various appropriate forms of gourd for the occassion) was plumb out by yesterday evening when I arrived. I even left work early so I could swing by on my way to the grocery.
However, I recalled that my backup grocery store (it's closer, but very much resembles a flea market on its final Sunday) had a bunch when I went to get dog food Saturday morning. Of course, in my infinite wisdom, I didn't bother to pick one up then. Why do know what you can put off until it no longer matters?
I swung by the joint and was disappointed to see the parking lot section, that just days ago teemed with orange spheres, was now empty. I had to swing through the lot anyway to head back home and lo and behold, there were two lonely deformed pumpkins sitting in a shopping cart by the door. I was in luck. I felt like Charlie Brown might if that sour witch would stop yanking the football out from under him. Sadly, the more deformed of the two was left sad and alone to whatever horrid fate awaits unwanted pumpkins.
So I dragged the thing home, sketched out some basic ideas and then created a template for my victim. I tend toward the classical pumpkin face. It just feels right. I then used the paper template to trace perforations through onto the pumpkin, witch guided my skilled surgical incisions.
I'm planning on taking Jack out with a bang similar to some of the flaming pumpkins you can see at extremepumpkins.com. Stay tuned for pics of that or perhaps a photo diary of the insurance company sorting through the ash and rubble of my home.
Here's digital evidence of the botched home surgery...
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