So, I don't know if any of ya'll get agita (how about that for a southern American/Italian linguistic reference?) when October passes, and your pumpkins are still sitting pristine outside your front door with a tiny perfect persimmon from a neighbor's tree perched on top, but I do. If I told you that I get slightly nervous every single time I pass into and out of my house and see those perfect pumpkins sitting there, would you think less of me? Last year, some vandals miraculously appeared at some point on Halloween and threw our pumpkins, or smashed them in the street, a terrible act for which I was secretly grateful. Seeing as how you all hold me to high moral standards juggling my not inconsiderable problems, would you chastise me for my bourgeois complaint or commiserate? I just can't throw them away. We don't have a compost bin. I will not cut them up and cook them. It's 12/12/12, and the poinsettias are plopped into the pots on either side of the door, clashing horribly with the orange pumpkins.
Reader, please tell me what to do.
And stay tuned for a January post in which I ask for suggestions for what to do with the potted poinsettias. I HATE POINSETTIAS at any other time than Christmas and even then, I'm stretching my tolerance levels to include them in my decor. Oliver insisted.