Amazing Grace Indeed

This year's pumpkin party was brought to you by adrenaline, high-test java, and pure, blind instinct -- with help from a succession of heroic individuals who came through at crucial junctures.

Starting, of course, with Steve and the phone call confirming his lasagne commitment -- which triggered the eleventh-hour invitation that went out even more haphazardly than usual, due to the tragic and untimely death of our computer (and with it, the mailing list). Our humblest apologies to those of you who were not notified in time.

Our children deserve some recognition for their contributions: Josie not only helped Andrew rearrange the dining room furniture, but also refrained from snapping back at me when I charged out of the kitchen shouting, "Josie, where are you? Get down here and help your dad rearrange the -- " and then fizzled out with a sheepish "Oh," because there she was in the dining room already, cheerfully heaving one end of the table. And Simon for hauling pumpkin after pumpkin up the stairs, and for putting on the Jonas Brothers' "Year 3000" just as the rain let up, the sun came out, and a technicolor rainbow blazed across the still-leaden sky.

Irene showed up just in time to mix up the pumpkin pie filling (the pie that made itself was nowhere to be seen, alas), then provided a much-needed morale boost when I managed to drop the large glass bowl of filling into one of the pies, causing a pumpkin custard tsunami to splash all the way across the kitchen counter. She even stuck around to take a turn grating a mountain of cheddar cheese. 

We were impressed by the take-no-prisoners attitude of the Queen of hearts and her Minion, who appeared in the kitchen after a great deal of giggling upstairs.

Colin (the Minion's Minion?) was the first of several babies to arrive, each sporting an adorable costume, along with that wide-eyed look infants always have on their first Halloween, when they wake up from their afternoon naps to discover that their friends and relations have suddenly transformed into zombies and ninjas and goodness knows what else, and they're clearly thinking, "All right then, is it going to be like this from now on?"

Kelli showed up with a spice cake to die for, and a vintage Chubby and Tubby bowling shirt that many of us would have killed for, if she didn't look so absolutely adorable in it.

Props are due also to the sharp-nosed and quick-witted citizens who discovered and extinguished the napkin fire on the potluck table -- thanks, folks! And to Bram for pioneering an adorable, gymnastical, faith-based feeding technique, pictured below. You may not be able to see, but when I took this picture his other daughter had her arms clamped firmly around his right leg. And when he arrived at the side door during the thickest of the rain, he was similarly encumbered but also carrying a pot of chili and a sizable pumpkin.

The carvers are the true heroes of the party, of course, and need no further introduction than that. (Although I do feel compelled to reiterate a point that was made several times, rather emphatically, by Miss Eva (red dress, supervising on the left), each time  as though it had just occurred to her to mention it to me: and that is the fact that her pumpkin was the biggest pumpkin there.)

We finished up the evening nursing a plastic cup of red wine on the livingroom couch, topping off yummy Jell-O wigglers (thanks again, Higginses!) with Dari's amazing chocolate cloud brownies, and listening blissfully while Sam played "Amazing Grace" on the piano and an assortment of fine singers slowly gathered to join in.

Thanks again to all who came!

Lost and Found Items: wood handled spatula, dark blue bathtowel, reddish-orange tea towel, tiny fishnets that only come up to Menna's knees, white knit hat with brim, "Hidden Valley Camp" hoodie,  child's blue winter coat, lime green L.L. Bean hoodie. If any of these are yours, let us know!