Last week, we (the Spouse and I) saw an excellent performance of Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? When I say that it was excellent, that can be taken to mean bruising, heartbreaking and slightly traumatising. A confronting thing for any couple to watch. Like the best kind of theatre, it filters into your life, translates into all sorts of questions. They are good questions, if not easy ones. Maybe it should be considered a supplement to pre-marital counselling - if you can see Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? and still want to get married, you probably ought to. That said, you may not know eachother well enough at that point to see how the play relates to you (it does; it always does). In which case you should probably hold off on that white dress.
On the more cheerful side, I have been slaughtering pumpkins. Thanksgiving is coming up and in a moment of well-intentioned insanity I offered to make pumpkin pie from scratch. Making it from scratch is not insanity. It is simply better. What is insanity is transporting mashed pumpkin the lenghth of the country, and then facing the ever-stressful task of making pie crust. Why stressful, you may ask; well, because I am a failure at making crust. Forget all that fluted rim stuff. If it covers the pie pan it is a success; and even then, I mess up at least one time in three. So why not simply obtain one of those wonderful (er...) pre-made crusts, or better still, take my mother-in-law up on her generous offer to make the crust for me? Because I am stubborn, that's why, and because I would rather spend a morning being stressed out than admit to my crust issues or stoop to store-bought crust, especially after all of the pumpkin-bashing. I have to learn sometime, right? I just wish I could do it ahead of time, and fail in the privacy of my own kitchen. If you hear clanking and swearing from our kitchen tonight, that is me, miserably messing up a practice session.