Sunday, October 31

Childhood Deprivation

**Update: This post was written on 10.29, but I just got around to publishing it...

I have been told on more than one occasion that I had a deprived childhood.  To be fair, the folks who have told me this, don't truly think I was a deprived child, but they think I missed out on essential childhood activities.  I grew up in Williamson county and know that I was by no means deprived of essential memories. 
The first time my friends informed me of this, was in high school around the Easter holidays.  My "posse," as my mother called it, were sitting around talking about Easter memories and upcoming holiday plans when someone mentioned dying Easter eggs.  I nonchalantly stated that I'd never dyed Easter eggs. 

You would have thought the world was coming to an end.  Everyone was up in arms about it.  They didn't understand how I had turned out to be a decent human being when I had never dyed Easter eggs.  I had a very legitimate excuse.  All of my relatives, besides my small immediate family, live in Alabama.  We used to spend the Saturday before Easter at my dad's mom's house, wake up, do baskets and church, and head to my mom's mom's house for Sunday afternoon.  Because of all the traveling/hectic Easter festivities, all we ever had time for at each house was an egg hunt with the cousins.  We would bring plastic eggs with candy inside, while many of my cousins, who were not traveling that weekend, had plenty of time to dye eggs.

**Essential side note: as soon as I started talking about dying eggs, my office started smelling like vinegar.  Coincidence?  I think not.

My friends sought to remedy my deprivation right away.  Our tradition of Easter trips to Alabama had petered out sometime while I was in middle school, and my family's new Easter tradition consisted of Sunday morning service (where Drew and I always got to sing our favorite Easter hymn, Up From the Grave He Arose, if you don't know it, I recommend checking it out) and Sunday lunch, usually ribs or pork tenderloin.  Because we were now in town, I was readily available to dye eggs.  So I did.  My dear high school friends taught me to dye Easter eggs.  Now that part of my life is complete.

For three weeks now, M and I have discussed going to a pumpkin patch to get our pumpkins.  Well, our plans fell through the weekend we went to see Curt in Atlanta, and last weekend we just never got around to it.  So last night, you know, 3 days before Halloween, we still didn't have pumpkins.  M calls me from the grocery store to check our charcoal/lighter fluid supply.  Toward the end of the conversation he slips in, "Oh, and I bought us some pumpkins before they run out."

After dinner last night, we proceeded to spread out towels and garbage bags on the living room floor, popped Clue into the dvd player (because M had never seen it, and I think it's kinda Halloween-y), and got to work.  While I'm meticulously, and with great difficulty, cutting a whole in the top of my pumpkin, I once again, nonchalantly mention that I've only carved one pumpkin before, and that was in college.

M had the same reaction my dear high school friends had about my lack of egg dying experience.

"You never carved pumpkins growing up?" -M

"Well, no, we did, but mom did all the work.  To my recollection, Drew and I helped pick the pattern and then my mom did all the work.  And hated every minute of it."

Maybe my brother and I did actually help her carve the pumpkin, but if we did, I honestly don't remember it.  My halloween memories growing up consist of: mom carving the pumpkin and decorating the little Halloween tree we have, me hanging my Halloween mobile, dressing up, and trick-or-treating.  I didn't think anything of the fact that Drew and I didn't help carve.  I just assumed that no kids helped carve a pumpkin because it was dangerous with sharp tools.  Clearly I was mistaken.

Now, I'm not particularly known for my artistic abilities.  My pumpkin two years ago simply said I <3 DG.  Creative, eh?  I wanted to try for spookier and more challenging than my past experience.  M whipped out his little carving book and used a pattern.  Instead, I free-handed, using this image of Jack Skellington, the Pumpkin King, as my inspiration.  All I forgot was the nostrils, and by the time I remembered, I didn't really have room.
Jack-o-lantern Inspiration

Actual result.  M's skull, and my Jack Skellington
All in all, a great success and fun evening!  We even roasted the pumpkin seeds, which I can guarantee we didn't do in my childhood!


Andrea said...

Your pumpkin turned out great! And hey, if it makes you feel better, I *still* have never carved a pumpkin on my own. Growing up, my Mom always did it too. And this year, Ben carved ours because I was afraid I would mess it up!

Copyright (c) 2010 Hakuna Matata. Design by WPThemes Expert
Themes By Buy My Themes And Cheap Conveyancing.