And So We Carved Pumpkins

This weekend, I was in a mood. Don't jump to conclusions here - it wasn't the kind of mood that comes along once a month. It was just...a mood. It's been hanging over me all week. It started Tuesday, I believe, and just would. not. leave. By Saturday morning, Ryan was ready to be rid of it. On Friday night, we'd decided to seize this (recently rare) Saturday together and carve pumpkins. It's always been one of my favorite things to do. I can still close my eyes and remember the first time that I got to actually HELP carve a pumpkin. I can see the driveway of our first house, my parents spreading newspaper on the ground, sitting in my Dad's lap squealing as I pulled the gooey pulp out of my pumpkin. Surely something that holds such great memories would cheer me up.

So, we hopped in the car and went on our pumpkin hunt. We debated driving out to THE Flower Mound Pumpkin Patch...but we decided the traffic + crowds wouldn't = an improved mood. So, we went to our favorite grocery store and found two pumpkins that would work perfectly.

I knew what I wanted to do. A cat sitting in the silhouette of the moon. So, I plotted out my attack and started carving. Now...here's the problem. I suppose I'm a bit of a perfectionist. I've always been fairly crafty, and have always had people TELL ME I'm crafty...so there is this personal pressure to make things "perfect". As I was sloooowly carving out my design (seriously, Ryan was moving at the speed of light compared to me), my mood was worsening. It wasn't going to be "perfect". At one point Ryan turned around, looked at my scowling face and asked me if I was even having any fun. I smiled and said I was and tried to loosen up. Once I carefully pulled the last bit of pumpkin out of my design, I WAS having fun. It was jagged and the cat's tail had broken (which is appropriate if you know our girl cat Chloe) but it was cute...and almost exactly how I'd imagined it.

Of course, Ryan's turned out better. He has better hand-eye coordination or something. But, I was good with that. My Dad was the better carver of my parents (though no one could hold a candle to my Mom when it came to dying eggs)...and maybe that's how it's supposed to be. My (future) kids will reap the benefits of his skills, just like my brother & I did. And by the end of the night, after several little tea lights illuminated our pumpkins, my mood was illuminated too.

My pumpkin, freshly carved.

Our pumpkins at dusk.

And after dark.
(Thank you Instagram for upping the creepy-factor of Ryan's pumpkin even more.)

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!