|Kids hard at work carving pumpkins|
In the wee morning hours, deep thunder rumbled and grumbled across North Texas. The gods were having a fine time with their bowling in the heavens above, and I had a furry sleeping companion pressed up close to me. Of course, she was lucky that I allowed her in the bed after her earlier behavior. About one-thirty in the morning she decided she had to bark to go out. It was damp and cold, so I let her out figuring she’d come right back in.
Not so—she lay on the deck and stared impudently at me. So I decided to fling open the refrigerator with great noise, so she’d know I was getting her cheese. One fling—and an icebox dish full of corn flew out. Corn and buttery juice all over the floor. So there I was—scraping up corn and mopping up juice, which is not easy from a rolling chair, in the early hours of the morning. I finally got her inside by slamming the door, pretending to lock her out. That brought her in a hurry.
Tonight was the annual great pumpkin carve-in, an event Jordan has hosted for several years. I fear, however, it has about run its course. In previous years, when the weather cooperated, it was held on the front porch, and young kids happily carved their pumpkins. Tonight was way too cold and wet to be outside—and those kids are growing up. The carvers were a high schooler, a middle school student, and a fourth grader (I think). Jacob was noticeably not among them, sitting on the couch, focused on getting to the middle school football game.
|The snack table|
For the adults, the party was a time to feast, and Jordan, with the help of others, put out a grand spread. Friends brought spinach dip, sausage, brie, chicken salad, love dip, etc., and I don’t know what all. Jordan made her bean dip and quesadillas for the kids. She talked of ordering pizza, but I doubt they needed it. I went in for a drink and some snacks, because I enjoy the company, but I was soon encouraged to go to the back room where the carving was. Once I got back there, the adults all went into the front room to visit. I was left with teenagers (and one younger) who really didn’t want to talk to me, and I had little to say to them. “What do you think about the congressional impeachment investigation” probably wouldn’t have gotten me much response. So I asked Jacob to rouse himself, which he did cheerfully, to help me out to the cottage, where I finished my supper with meatloaf and hearts of palm—an odd combination but good.
Tomorrow is Halloween, predicted to be cold (we’ll have our first freeze tonight) but dry. I’ll go in for the trick-or-treating, but I expect a repeat of tonight, and I’ll soon find myself back in the cottage eating meatloaf. It’s a lucky thing that it’s so good—made with onion soup—and I like it so much.