Our annual ritual in the fall (and yes, I know some of you hate FALL like a Sunday…) is to visit the pumpkin farm. To be honest, the reason we go back every year is for the best apple cider donuts made fresh there.
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The above is part of the Sundays in My City weekly blog-link event hosted by Unknown Mami.
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The following is the usual crazy stuff I blog about here…
Now, I am going to show you a picture that my husband took with his Blackberry. He claimed that he took it for me because it is blog-worthy. Sigh. This is true love, people! After all, when we saw the trailer for Red, I said, “Isn’t that …?” He said, “No, that is not Larry David. That is John Malkovich.” I said, “How do you know I thought that was…?” He said, “Because I just do.”
Anyway, this all sort of explains why we are made for each other even though on most days we are ready to choke each other (and not the sex-related kind).
“How do you tell if a pumpkin is male or female?” He asked, out of the blue.
“Hmmm.” I started wondering whether I had missed the biology class in high school when they talked about the sexes of fruits.
“Here.” He pushed his phone towards me, showing me this picture. “It’s when they have balls.”
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I guess I should apologize for ruining the magic of pumpkins for you. Fine. I’ll talk about corn then.
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Speaking of corn. When I first came to the U.S., I had trouble pronouncing some very simple words such as my own name and “corn”. I would make the word sound like something in the spectrum between “cone” and “comb”. It was an issue since I was going to a school surrounded by friggin’ corn fields. My boyfriend (now husband) taught me how to say “corn” by asking me whether I could say “porn”. And I did. Correctly. So now you know what I think of first whenever I say the word “corn”…
What? Oh. I am very sorry for ruining CORN for you.
Is it just me? Every time when I see a corn maze, I immediately think, “Children of the Corn!” That is why I never go into the corn maze and I wait at the exit anxiously for my family to come out. Alive. And I pay special attention to my kids to make sure they don’t have any murderous intentions other than the usual on-going scheme to kill us slowly by annoyance and frustration.
After I’ve forever ruined corn fields for you, look at this picture again. Doesn’t it look ominous? Ok. Fine. It is just me then.
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