Birbigs Inspired Mom Joke

My sister and I were planning out my Mom's birthday, the same way we do every year.  We talk about it a month before it's going to happen, then do nothing.  Then, a week before, we discuss what we should do for it, then do nothing.  A few days before, we discuss restaurants and logistics, then do nothing.  Finally, the day before, we talk on the phone about restaurants.  And finally, do nothing.  Until the very next day, when we make reservations.  Which is exactly what reservations were invented for...last minute table saving.

This year, we decided to break from tradition and look for a good French restaurant.  We're looking on nymag.com for their restaurant recommendations, entrees around 25 to 30 bucks, so we could all enjoy appetizers, a bottle of wine (or some French malt liquor, whatever) and dessert.  Nothing more expensive, so my sister and I wouldn't go broke.  You know, a nice dinner.  At a place my mom would like.  However, all we could find were places that were $40 and up for entrees.  I told my sister, "it's like, I love you, Mom, but maaaaaybe not for $75 dollars a person."

Epilogue: We found a cheaper French restaurant.  It was delicious.  My mother enjoyed it, as we all did.  The wine list baffled me, but the sommelier was helpful, and even taught me how to write "Happy Birthday, yo!" in French.  I have since forgotten.  Happy New Year everyone, and remember to cherish your family.  Just maybe not at such a high price point.

Persnickitily Picking Pumpkins with my Phamily

Every year, towards the end of September or beginning of October, my sister and I face the biggest and most important decision for that year: which pumpkin are we going to take home. It's an agonizing and slow process, involving weeding out lots of weaker offerings and plenty of advice asking. Really, it's a collaborative process. And that's why I'm glad the last couple years I've gone with my entire family, since my sister shares the same pumpkin picking philosophy as me. Furthermore, there's no competition, since she prefers a yellow-orange and tall shape while I go for rounder, slightly larger, deep orange-red with deep ribbing. Adds more character.

We go all out too. We're serious about our pumpkins. There are still some fields out on Long Island that haven't been turned into every-single-house-is-identical "communities" our strip malls. We go for that real shit too, where you can cut the pumpkins off their vines. This is pumpkin picking like it was meant to be, not some silly city pumpkins sitting in a box in a corner grocery. My only rule is that neither my sister or I can cut any pumpkins off the vine until we're certain they're a contender. Top 1 or 2 pumpkins we've seen so far.

Elimination can take some time, as all aspects of the individual pumpkin are studied, the specimen must have lasting power to stay in the apartment for months on end, and it must speak to you, call to you in some primal way. If man's best friend is a dog, then man's second best friend is a pumpkin. Damn, they're beautiful. Every fall, I wish I could just be surrounded by different, beautifully colored winter squashes all year long. Pumpkins and hubbards and potimarrons and buttercups and kobuchas and red kuris. Sigh.

This brilliant piece of writing sums up my feelings for Cucurbita pepo, maxima, mixta and moschata. However, if I had written it, there'd be no traces of irony present. That's how close to my heart these wonderful fall wonders are.

NY State apples. Represent, yo!

The Mr. Peanut pumpkin almost came home with me. Almost.

Selflessly guarding our pumpkin choices with his life

Pumpkin quorum. That's mine, front left, huge stem. WOW.

My sister, smiling due to pumpkin presence