Cue The Music.

Things at work tonight could have gone better for the first 4 hours to say the least. Two elderly women split a sandwich, finished every last bite, and then complained that they hated it. Really? Then where'd it go? When the sandwich was comped, they left me nothing. Makes sense. Their bill was nothing. 

Then a delightful woman at another table handed me 27 cents after paying her $43 check and said, "This is for you." Picture how you might respond to a person handing you 27 cents. Now release that image and smile and say thank you. 

So when a group of fun gays sat in my section and started joking with me, I was beyond thrilled. It was seriously the only thing that could have saved my night. When I asked why they were in such a great mood, they said they had just come from seeing Amy Sedaris speak at the Booksmith. 

Cut to me squealing. 

We all started sharing our favorite things about Amy Sedaris (mine being numerous Letterman appearances and her tip to put marbles in your medicine cabinet when guests visit). The guys told me she was still at the store signing copies of her new book, so when Maggie got the green light to go get a copy signed, I took notice. Looking around at my section, I asked Val to keep an eye on my tables and shouted from the door, "Drop a check at 66! I'll be right back!"

Leaving like that felt cinematic. I exited the restaurant and started running down the street. Running. No coat, my apron with check presenters stuffed into it still around my waist, actually running to the bookstore. If life were a movie, this is where a song would play. (Suggestions welcome). The opening riff to Black Eyed Peas "Pump It" came to mind immediately, but perhaps that's too commercial. Maybe something like, Wolf Parade's "I'll believe in anything" is more my speed. Either way, it felt like a moment. Running past slowly-strolling couples, my apron falling down my hips, I laughed to myself. It felt good.

I made it to the Booksmith and walked in to a semi-quiet store. Clearly, the signing had ended. One older woman stood talking to Amy as I waited patiently behind her. Catching my breath and fixing my hair, it occurred to me that I smelled strongly of potato pancake and was wearing an apron with a "Knish Happens" t-shirt. Oh well. 

I bought her book and she asked if I wanted it personalized. 

Me: Yeah, thanks.

Amy Sedaris: OK, I just need to see a receipt.

Me: [Laughing. Perhaps too hard. Stop laughing so hard.] Could you just make it out to Jess?

Amy Sedaris: Jess? How do you spell it? J-E-S-S?

Me: Actually, it's K-J-E-S-S. The K is silent.

Old woman: KJess? 

Me: The K is silent.

AS: OK, well I signed it FAmy. The F is silent.

I had a laugh and then dug around inside my wallet with my shaky hand for the business card I had printed up for my book. They were free. The back of the card says, "Get free business cards @ such and such company." so it's basically a business card for this printing company and not my book, but that's what you get for Free. For $3.99 I could have opted to have the card say nothing on the back, but then they wouldn't have been free. I pulled the card from my wallet [sniff sniff. Who smells like a deep-fryer?] and said with bright-red cheeks, "I know this is cheesy, but I wrote a book. I have an agent, I'm just looking for a publisher. If you could check out my blog, that'd be amazing."

Amy Sedaris took my card [Don't look at the back. Don't look at the back.] and said, "Open-Eyed Sneeze? That's a funny title."

And then I shit my pants.

Not really.

I said thanks again, and ran back to the restaurant to check on my tables. Because my coworkers are seriously kick-ass, they listened as I told the story and raised their paws for an up-top when I mentioned that Amy Sedaris said the title of my book out loud. 

It was sort of a big deal for me.

Seriously, Why Aren't You Telling Your Friends?

The Tell Ya Friends Campaign rolls on!

Remember in Sister Act when Delores Van Cartier sang, "I Will Follow Him" with the nuns?

Yeah, me too.

Anyway, will you follow this blog?

If I reach 100 by Friday, I'll pick a follower at random and send them an Arby's gift certificate. 

Come on, people. Arby's. 

You Don't Have To Sing.

I've never really enjoyed celebrating my birthday. I love other people's birthdays, but could totally skip over my own. When I was a little kid and allowed to have a sleep-over birthday party for the first time, I fell asleep around 8 o'clock. When my mom woke me up and told me I was being a bad host to my friends who were there to celebrate, I responded with, "Just tell them to go home."

Real nice, I know.

Anyway, my least favorite part of birthdays is the Happy Birthday song. It's terrible. Sung in a restaurant, it's pretty much the saddest song ever. Meredith has heard me rant about this numerous times, so when she excused herself from the table the other night at my birthday dinner, I was not at all concerned. She would never have the waitstaff sing. She knows how I feel about it. 

After we had finished our incredibly delicious sushi, I heard a familiar and terrifying sound. Three various pitches coming from three annoyed people, using the first word to steel themselves for the embarrassment of singing, and the attempt to find a key that suits them. A sound that is annoying to hear 364 other days of the year, but one that will literally make me sweat on my birthday. The shaky and out of tune, "Haaaaaaaapppp...."

It was weak in volume, but powerful enough to make my heart sink to the floor. I saw the glow of a single candle out of the corner of my eye and felt the temperature on my face rise about 35 degrees. As the three servers rounded the corner to our table I shot Mer a look and her smile quickly faded as she tried to convey with her eyes, "I didn't tell them to sing!" Standing next to our table, I smiled meekly at the timid chorus and looked to the other tables that had turned to watch. 

If you've ever tried to take a picture with me, you know I talk awkwardly throughout the process. I do the same for the birthday song. So while the slowest version ever of "Happy Birthday" was being sliced thin and served raw at our table, I talked through the entire thing.

"Happy birthday to you..."

"OK, thank you. You really don't have to sing, it's fine."

"Happy birthday..." 

"Oook, thanks everybody, that's nice, but you really don't have to... "

"To you..."

"OK, how 'bout I just blow the candle out and we'll call it a day? Oook, you're gonna keep going."

"Happy birthday dear..."

[Pause]...

[Pause]...

[Pause]...

Honestly people, this chunk of time following the "dear" felt like an hour. I was so interested in the song ending that it didn't occur to me for at least 10 seconds that they had no effing clue what to call me. The restaurant was silent, my face was completely red and my head was down staring directly at the table top, when it struck me that these people might wait all night until I gave them a name. At the exact same time, Mer and I looked up and flatly said, "Jessica."

When they finished the song, the time-lapse with my name struck me as so funny that I started laughing uncontrollably. It was so perfect. 

Quality Family Time.

A scene from Thanksgiving morning:

Brina: Oh no! It's 9:30! We're missing the Parade!

Mom: No, what clock are you looking at?

Brina: The stereo. 

Mom: That's wrong. [Looking to the family room clock]. That says 8:15 so we're fine. It's 7:55.

Just In TIme For The Holidays!

I fell asleep on the sofa in a horrible food coma and woke up to this. I thought it was a weird dream. 

Do yourself a favor and watch the commercial. You can't make this stuff up.

Because old aprons weren't instant enough, we bring you the Instant Apron! Literally saving you seconds in the kitchen, the Instant Apron is the cooking garment choice of complete morons! What's the hardest part about preparing a meal? Why, trying to fit your fat face through an apron hole, of course! The Instant Apron erases all of that! You'll feel more confident around sharp knives, hot ovens, and gas ranges when you're no longer struggling to tie yourself into a piece of cloth for 35 minutes. The Instant Apron is fire resistant and it needs to be! Chances are if you're wearing this, you have no f*cking clue what's going on. And the Instant Apron makes a great gift! Nothing says, "Here, idiot!" quite like the Instant Apron. Impress your friends with your style! The Instant apron comes in many exciting pattern choices such as, "Cow" and "Mediterranean." The "Elegant Black" Instant Apron is so elegant, you can wear it to fancy events. Think of the time savings there! So if you're the type of person who makes blended milk for your family's dinner, call now! 

This Will Probably Get Published First.

I'm going to write a children's book called, Dogs Can't Have Egg Nog. 

Cheers!

Thanksgiving is my absolute favorite. I feel grateful for little things all the time, so it's nice to have a day when I can share and not get looked at like I'm crazy.

In no particular order, here's a very short list of some things that I'm completely thankful for everyday:

-My first cup of coffee in the morning. I actually get excited.

-The way jeans fit for the first wear after you've washed them.

-When the bus comes immediately as you've walked up to the bus stop.

-When you hug someone and they smell nice. 

-Having exact change at the grocery store.

-Modern Family.

-A good playlist.

-Impromptu dance parties.

-My best friend. She's thoughtful, wicked smart, has the most beautiful singing voice in the whole wide world, and makes me laugh until I cry. It also doesn't hurt matters that she's really really pretty and my girl.

-My insane family.

-Having a good laugh with my coworkers.

-Having a chill table of customers.

-Getting a hug from Joaquin.

-Chilly weather and light layers.

-A good pen.

-Cereal.

-Socks.

-Fun take-out and a movie.

-Health.

Make a little list, it's fun. Eat a lot today--that's fun too.

Addition.

My sisters and I spent last night looking at childhood pictures, which was hilarious. But I found a great old photo that I thought fit well with a recent post. Check it.

Observation of the Day.

Today I passed an older gentleman wearing an iCarly hat.

NOOOOOOO!

If you know anything about my fears, you'll understand why I was dry heaving when I saw this. 

Gotta Support The Team.

Had this gem of a conversation with Tara tonight.

Tara: Did you ever have a Starter jacket?

Me: Oh, indeed. San Jose Sharks.

Tara: Was it teal?

Me: Yup. And had a giant shark on the back. 

Tara: Yeah, I remember that one.

And then she walked away.

"Aw, Man. They Love That Stuff!"

My father has had the same job since he was nine. 

Seriously.

There are pictures of him interning at an even younger age, but basically he started part-time as a 9-year-old and never looked back. 

Farming is a lifestyle more than a career choice. I met someone at the restaurant one time who said he was a farmer and I became totally excited. 

"You are?! My dad's a farmer! What do you grow?"

"Well, I have a small patch of sunflowers. I don't actually plant them or pick them, but I sell them for profit. And it's fun to say I'm a farmer. I really develop real estate."

I just nodded politely. 

Farming requires an incredible amount of dedication. It's investing your entire life in the ground. The EARTH. Not to get all hippy about it, but it has always blown my mind. My dad and his brothers entered a business contract with Mother Nature without any guarantees. The deal was basically that they would show up everyday for about the rest of their lives, and try to make something grow. If something did grow, they'd pick it. And then they'd start all over again. The commitment astounds me. Without exaggeration, I have trouble agreeing to be with a wireless provider for two years. The fact that my dad has made farming his life for his whole life, humbles me.

Growing up, whenever we saw our dad on a tractor, or forklift, or huge truck, or any piece of machinery, he'd shout at the top of his lungs, "Hi girls!" He was always so freaking happy to be doing whatever it was he was doing. His happiness made me really proud.  

Around this time last year I walked into a Shaw's and the first thing I saw was my family's squash. Brina and Ness text me whenever they see it in NY.  Every time this happens I feel like my dad has shown up to surprise us, shouting enthusiastically, "Hi girls!" 

I love to think that a part of him is with us in our cities. 

Anyway, there was a really nice article about the farm in the Rochester paper today and I had to give my dad a shout out. When I talked to him this afternoon he was on top of the world. Always one to return a compliment, this was our exchange:

"Dad! I'm so proud of you! You grow the best squash!"

"Thanks, Jess! You do too!"

Yay Martin Farms!

Note: I know this was mushy, but that's how I like my squash.

Tell Ya Friends Campaign 2010.

A combination of factors have recently forced me to take inventory of what I have going on in my life. These factors include:

1) I finally caved and joined Facebook. This was basically at the nudging of my literary agent who said publishers are asking what sort of following I have. The short answer is that I have no following. Once when my parents came to visit me in SF, I walked a block ahead of them and when I turned around they were no longer behind me. They were following a group of Japanese tourists heading in the opposite direction and apparently the language difference and lack of daughter didn't register. That's a true story and the one I feel like telling publishers. 

I'm on facebook now, trying to find a following but really just falling into the pitfalls of Facebook-- namely looking at people's pictures and realizing that a large group of people from my past now have babies. BABIES! Holy crap, so many babies. I saw a pregnancy picture of an old friend and was thiiis close to writing, "Damn, you got fat." but stopped myself. Parents can be so uptight. 

2) My birthday is coming up. I've been having minor panic attacks in the middle of the night because I'm about to be 29 and I'm thinking I might have misspent my 20's. And while totally teasing, Meredith has implied that I'm ancient. Her jokes are good, I'll give her that.

Me: I want to be with you for a long time.

Mer (Nodding the way you do to someone in a hospital bed): As long as you have left.

But at the beginning of November we had a moratorium on all age-related jokes. 

Me: Hey! You said!

Mer: I said I'd try. And I am. I'm trying.... And I'm coming up with some really good ones. 

3) I've had a string of "Oh, no. This is your life" moments at work where elderly people scream at me about their sandwiches.

Me: Would you care for anything else on your sandwich?

Old people: LIKE WHATTT???!!!

Old people love to ask the "Like what?!" question while conveying absolute disgust for my existence. They are completely confused and clearly offended by an offer to top corned beef with a tomato. 

Me: Oh, anything you want! Lettuce, onion...

Old people: [Shaking their heads, dismissing me with a wave, frowning with a bad taste face like I've just asked to shit on their sandwich and then screaming] NO!

By the fifth time an old person yelled, "LIKE WHAT?!" into my face yesterday I replied, "Anything you want. A moustache. A sneaker..."

They didn't hear. 

Anyway, enough is enough. I'm making a full-effort push to get this first book of mine published. But I need your help. I'm launching a Tell Ya Friends campaign to get the word out. Somebody must know somebody who knows somebody. And if not, then maybe numbers will help the process. So please, if you've ever come close to cracking a smile on this site, let a buddy know. If you have ideas for me, let me know. If you could help spread some buzz about Open-Eyed Sneeze in any way, I'll love you forever. And if you need anything else on your sandwich, you know where to find me. 

Wiggin' Out.

I neglected to tell one of my roommates that my sister was in town this weekend. So when I heard Sean in the kitchen this morning, I told Bri to say hello.  This was the conversation I heard from my room.

Bri: Morning.

Sean: Hi. 

Bri: I'm just running to the bathroom, I'll come back and say hi in a second.

Sean: ...

Sitting in my room, it occurred to me that Sean had no way of knowing Sabrina was my sister and I started to get paranoid wondering if he'd think, who's this random girl? Where's Meredith? When Bri came back into my room I was like, "Tell him you're my sister!" 

Sabrina: Umm... Jessica said I should tell you I'm her sister.

Sean: Oh, OK.

Me (thinking): Uhhh! That sounds like a total lie!

When I got up I apologized for not letting him know Bri was in from New York for the weekend.

Sean: I actually thought she was you. I thought it was you wearing a wig.

Me: Why would I sleep in a wig?!

Sabrina (Shouting from my room): My hair does not look like a wig!

Sean: I'm not saying that. I just wondered why Jess had so much hair.

Talent Show.

While I have no actual talents of my own, when I meet someone new, I can tell with almost 100% accuracy whether or not they can juggle. 

Lesson: Don't Eat Spice Before Bed.

My sister sent me one of the best emails I've ever received this morning with the subject line, "The Impossible Dream." 

Here it is:

Morning!

 

Okay so I had like the MOST INVOLVED wonderful dream last night! It lasted from about midnight (I think) til 6:30 -- and I never sleep that long.

 

Of course I should have called you as soon as I woke up to remember all the details, but it was something along these lines:

 

You and a guy friend -- slightly shorter than you, but equally fabulous, had put together this amazing routine -- you are actually wearing a sequined leotard and he's wearing something sequiny too...your legs looked amazing in the leotard. You start out with trench coats on, fling them off revealing the show-stopping costumes, and then proceed to break into a comic dance/singing routine. You performed it at a contest a la Class Acts, and totally won.

 

So then a while later the whole family (can't remember which side, just a BUNCH of family) is on vacation at this rented house with a great pool and view, etc. I think we're there for a wedding. We're all having a grand time.

 

We go to the wedding and it's packed, but it's more like in a gymnasium with TONS AND TONS of chairs and we sit in a bunch together in the back rows, quite far from where the main event will take place. After the ceremony there are all these musical tributes to the couple, and apparently you are on the list to perform third. No one in the family knows what you're about to do.

 

The second act ends (which I remember really liking), and then you jump up out of your folding chair with your friend, your music comes on, the sequined numbers come out and the two of you start performing like your life depends on it. The crowd is screaming and I'm BEAMING that you are my sister and you're SO FUNNY and SO GOOD!

 

The whole family loves it, and then I woke up. I think it's stemming from all of your awesome blog posts lately and how truly you are the funniest person I know. I guess I'm just really proud of you!

 

See you tomorrow!

xo

Sabrina

I don't think I'm going to stop smiling for the rest of the day.

I Can't Quit You.

I'm extremely loyal to my sweatpants. I've been wearing the same pair forever and they stopped looking like pants about three years ago. Stretched, incredibly baggy, and ripped in some places, it basically looks like I've wrapped some sort of weird blanket around my legs. All of the elastic from the waist passed away long ago, so they hang somewhere around the middle of my thigh. I like to feel like I'm wearing something around my waist so I usually wear basketball shorts under them. This has become necessary. The fabric is so soft from wear that it's a cross between a baby duck and a baby human. I pet them every time I put them on. Fresh from the dryer is the moment they shine. They almost actually resemble pants when they've had a chance to heat up and regroup. But 10 minutes into a wear, it's back to the MC Hammer leg Snuggie that they are. 

I was wearing them this morning while vacuuming and they fell to the ground. I hate turning the vacuum on and off  (I'm really sound sensitive) so I just finished with my pants around my feet. I caught a glimpse of myself in the full-length mirror, looked at the bundled ball of the world's most comforting cotton chillin' at my ankles, and realized I might have to give these guys up.  It broke my heart.

I recently bought a new pair and it was a very big deal for me. I've slowly been breaking them in, but I know where my loyalties lie.

SOS

I don't know if was because the salad I ate was too big, or that I was starting to get a little stomach virus, but the other night at work, I seriously felt like I was going to be sick. When I shared this with everyone, John adopted the picky-eater customer persona and asked with squinted eyes, exaggerated hand movements, and condescending tone, "Well, if you do, could you just make sure that the dressing is on the side?"

What Will You Be Doing About Beverages?

Asking, "What will you be doing about beverages?" before visiting each other has been a Martin Family favorite for years. It started after my sister Sabrina visited me at college and was unsatisfied with my beverage options of beer or water. Sitting in my living room on a Sunday morning, completely upset that I had no orange juice, she looked at me flatly and asked, "What will you be doing about beverages?" 

She was serious.

When I retold this story to the rest of my family, the line became an instant classic.  We've been saying it as a joke ever since.

Sabrina is still quite serious.

It's important to know that my older sister and I are different creatures. I love her to death, but we're different creatures.  

Bri carries a Tide ToGo stick in her bag. I've seen her give it to strangers. 

I found about a half pint of herbed cream cheese on my pants the other day and thought to myself, "How long has that been there?"

Brina is the type of person who keeps Neosporin in the box of Band-Aids.

I'll walk around all day with a paper-cut finger in my mouth.

Sabrina plans for guest arrivals with towels, toiletries, snacks, fresh sheets, extra pillows, multiple bedding choices (down alternative?), and options for activities.

She's coming to visit me on Friday and I've made a mental note to buy toilet paper.

To really hammer home the difference, this was a grocery list email she sent when we were going to Miami to stay with aka, Aka: 

Obviously, I'm the only one that is going to give you a real answer.  Here goes (and these are just suggestions -- not at ALL necessary in any way) AND I was just about to e-mail you guys to say WHO'S ExCITED??????? I AM!!

 

 

Breakfast foods:

 

Organic skim milk (girls, you can stop rolling your eyes at me now, cause I know you like this too)

A few cereals -- like kashi, puffins, etc.

Orange juice

coffee

bananas

blueberries

strawberries

cantaloupe

2% plain greek yogurt

honey

whole wheat bread

peanut butter

(Stuff for omelets if the girls want this, I don't really eat omlets)

organic eggs

red bell peppers

cheddar cheese
spinach

mushrooms

 

Lunch foods:

 

more whole wheat bread or rolls

light mayonnaise

sliced turkey breast

muenster cheese

tuna fish

lettuce

tomatoes

avocado (and onion & cilantro for guac!)

tortilla chips

salsa

roasted red peppers

some other kind of chips -- nessa will have an opinion on this -- sunchips, honey wheat pretzels, etc.

hummus

baby carrots

 

 

Dinner foods (jess, can you help here?):

 

Tilapia

Chicken breast

broccoli

stuff for stir fry?

sweet potatoes

whole wheat pasta

shrimp

salmon taco stuff? like sour cream, tortillas, and then veggies listed above would be good.

 

Okay that's all I guess...I'm really bad at dinner food stuff. I just drink water, but if the girls want other drinks (jess likes pellegrino, I think) they'll let you know.

We were going to be in Miami for two days. 

Anyway, Bri sent me a message this morning asking about beverages and it reminded me to get OJ before Friday. 

No one like you, sister.  

Has A Kick To It.

This was an exchange between two coworkers last night. Angelica from Brazil, and Sherri from Boston. Angelica speaks at least four different languages that I know of and her English is impeccable. She sometimes gets pop-culture references confused, like when I told her to be Snookie for Halloween and a week later she came up to me and said, "I'm going to be Sharko. Right, Jessica?" 

I had no idea what she was talking about for like an hour.

Sherri speaks fluent Boston native. Think of Lois from Family Guy times ten. This is one of my favorite Sherri quotes:

Sherri: My daughta assed me what a popiss is and I said, I don't know. I think it's a tahtul.

Translation: My daughter asked me what a porpoise is and I said, I don't know. I think it's a turtle. 

Anyway, last night before closing, Angelica asked if anyone had ever tried Mai Tai.

Angelica: I want to try Mai Tai. Greg, could you train me?

Me: Mai Tai? Or Muay Thai?

Angelica: Mai Tai.

Sherri: Oooh, I like Blue Hawaiis.

Angelica: That's a fighting style?

Sherri: What? I don't know. I thought we were talking about Chinese cocktails.

Sensibility of Humor.

Meredith very rarely (read: never) gives me a pity laugh. It's totally fine because I get a good chuckle out of awkward silences, and when she does actually laugh at something I say, I know she truly enjoyed it. 

What kills me though, is when she doesn't see the joke I'm trying to set up. I'll ask questions, leading her in the direction of a punch line, always assuming she sees what's coming, only to have my joke fall flat on its face when she's completely confused by what I'm talking about.

These conversations always end with her thinking I'm crazy and asking in a very serious tone, "What are you talking about?" I'll usually just sit with a smile until she plays along and releases an, "Oh, I get it. Funny. You're funny." like a hostage she's keeping in a bank or something. 

Anyway, the other night we were talking on the phone before bed and she mentioned that she might put on a movie to fall asleep.

Meredith: I might watch Sense and Sensibility. I love that movie.

Me: The one with Keira Knightly or the PBS version?

Meredith: You're thinking of Pride and Prejudice. 

Me: Am I? I don't think so.

Meredith (Completely confident in her correctness): No, you are.

Me: Noooo. I think I'm right.

Meredith (slightly annoyed): No, baby. You're thinking of Pride and Prejudice.  Sense and Sensibility is with Kate Winslet and Emma Thompson.

Me: Oh, right. The one where they put things in a glass of water to see what floats and what sinks?

[Silence and then finally]

Meredith: What?!!!

Me: Oh, no, never mind. That's Dense and Densibility. 

There was about a good ten-second pause before she threw out an, "Oh my gosh."

I laughed anyway.

Have You Had A Chance To Look Things Over?

One of the funniest people I work with (who shall remain nameless for this post) walked passed me tonight at the restaurant and said under her breath, "Table 28 has seen my vagina."

It's the best sentence I've heard all week. 

When the man she was talking about got up to take a phone call she said hello.

-Hi, Doctor. How are you?

-I'm well. Have you met my wife? Come over and meet her.

I was standing nearby for this interaction and smiling because I'm exactly 12 years old. 

Following the doctor back to his table, she smiled and said to me through her teeth, "Oh, great. Does she have a nice vagina?"

When I shared this exchange with Harvey, he was completely repulsed. 

Double Dare Me?

Harvey brings in donuts for the AM crew on the weekends. It's really nice. I guess I haven't had Dunkin Donuts in awhile though, because they seemed unbelievably light. Two bites into a chocolate glaze I thought to myself, I could eat an entire dozen of these, no problem. 

And then I said it aloud, kind of hoping someone would dare me to so I could. 

Nothing Is Better Than This.

Upset Autumn Tum.

That title doesn't really work. I had to say it out loud a few times. And then it started to remind me of The Litttle Drummer Boy for some reason. 

What? I don't know.

Anyway, throughout the month of October, I think I pretty successfully stuffed the entire Fall season into my belly.  I was obsessed with all things Pumpkin, really tried to meet an apple a day quota, and have been craving apple cider and donut holes pretty much non-stop for 31 days.

Here's a highlight list:

-Pumpkin cupcakes with cream cheese frosting. 

-Pumpkin pancakes.

-Cinnamon in my coffee.

-Squash soup. 

-Post Road Pumpkin Ale

-Shipyard Pumpkinhead Ale. The Best! Yum Yum Yum. When I see this on tap anywhere I squeal like a little piggy. It's seriously so good. 

Incidentally, Mer has a pumpkin styling wax she uses for her hair and I have taken to calling her Pumpkinhead. Or sometimes YankeeCandlehead. I'm very good with terms of endearment. All day yesterday she was Boo. Obviously. For the holiday.

-JPLicks Pumpkin Custard. Can we have a serious frank discussion about how good this is? This ice cream (in a sugar cone with chocolate sprinkles) is SO freaking good it will make you calmly exit the JPLicks of your choice, approach the sweetest looking person you can find, ask them to stop walking for a minute, and then swiftly slap them across the face. 

I've had more than my fill of October. I'm stoked it's November because nothing about turkey pancakes appeals to me and my stomach could really use the downtime.