I’m a little late for Halloween stories, but I’d rather talk about that than Election Day. Also, I wanted Rhonda to hear this story.
Four years ago, just after we got married, Mike and I went with another couple to stay for the weekend in a log cabin in the mountains. Mike planned a lot of fun things for us to do, including a romantic dinner for the two of us on Saturday evening while the other couple went out to eat. He got flounder from the Fresh Market and made us a wonderful meal. Then our friends came back, and we all carved pumpkins together.
Looking back now, it’s obvious that what happened was that, even though we put it in a cooler, the fish did not enjoy the trip from Greensboro to the mountains. And it responded by going bad. All I knew at the time was that my stomach was very very unhappy, but I thought it was the pumpkin smell. I went out on the porch to get some air, and after a bit I felt good enough to come back inside. When I did so, I found that Mike had gotten the top of our pumpkin off, and that he was scraping out the insides.
“Look,” he said. “Our pumpkin is puking!” He then turned it over and lots of seeds and stringy disgustingness came out.
I think you can guess what happened next. The good news is that I did make it to the bathroom before losing all the fish that Mike had prepared. The bad news is that I threw up three times that night, completely ruining our romantic weekend.
This past weekend, when we stayed with our friends in Wilmington, they wanted to carve pumpkins. Mike and I bought those plastic ones that will last for years to come. Our friends carved a real pumpkin. Even though we were outside, I had a hard time with the smell. I don’t care if I am a sell-out with my plastic pumpkin (that will last for years to come). I just can’t carve real pumpkins anymore. Bleh.