I didn't grow up carving pumpkins. In fact, if I told my mom that I carved pumpkins, she would gawk and me then lecture me about not wasting food.

At least we roasted the seeds -- half of which burned. And my roommate baked pumpkin muffins -- with canned pumpkins.

Anyway, since we continually ask you to post your family festivities, I thought I'd share mine.

Let me begin by saying I was wrong in thinking pumpkin carving is all fun and games. There are large knives involved in sawing through thick, outer layers. Fingers cramping. Shoulders tensing. Guts flying everywhere and a dog curiously sniffing around, trying to eat all of it.

A couple heartwarming stories about Allen teachers made me think of my own teachers and professors this week. They might be what I miss about school.

Anyway, read more here on the Allen Noteworthy blog, where I spotlight noteworthy stories in the Allen, Lucas and Fairview communities.

This weekend, I began seriously reading The Time Traveler's Wife again. I had started it an embarrassingly long time ago -- but life and everything that comes with it happened.

In college, while I was juggling a full load of classes and 40 hours at the campus daily, I looked forward to adulthood. I envisioned myself working somewhat human hours and enjoying leisure time once I got home. Not worrying about homework, reading or studying -- but truly relaxing. I could go to yoga classes, I fantasized. And start eating home-cooked meals. And read for fun. Well, it's not exactly the way I envisioned it, but I do two of those things now, though sparingly, so I guess that's good.

Anyway, I thought I'd share a line from the book that rang true to me:

"The compelling thing about making art -- or making anything, I suppose -- is the moment when the vaporous, insubstantial idea becomes a solid there, a thing, a substance in a world of substances." Pg. 274

I don't know if you consider story-telling an art, but that is exactly how I feel about what I do. There are so many pieces -- sides -- that you start putting them together not really knowing how it will turn out, but you just know that every layer you unpeel, and every paragraph you shape, something valuable will take shape. And then it does.

Recently, I noticed a subtle sign that my roommates and I are growing up.

Our fridge. Hear me out for a second -- this is my first anthropology discovery.

This might be the one time I'll say it's what's on the outside that matters, as the contents mainly have stayed the same. Beer, check. Sandwich stuff, check. Leftovers, check. Frozen dinners, check. 

My fridge decorations in college was awesome. We had magnetic Onion headlines, a magna doodle, magnets from all the places we visited. The fridge also featured my best works from my Spider-Man and Strawbery Shortcake coloring books.

Today, it is covered with wedding invites, coupons, bills, bills and more bills.

I'm guessing the next step might be if any of us got married and had children, we'd have a fridge full of family photos and how-to articles.

Who would've thought fridge decorations could tell a story? 

For me, every growing experience has been accompanied by uncomfortable situations.

I busted out of my home in Korea to a foreign country for college. I left the mountains, ocean, public transportation, skyscrapers (my home is on the 44th floor) for, well, flatness, chivalry and cows. I left my family to be a Horned Frog. That was uncomfortable, but I grew from it.

I worked 40 hours a week in the Daily Skiff newsroom with a full load of classes on my shoulders. That wasn't comfortable, but it was the most fun I'd had, not to mention the best learning experience.

More recently, I overcame my fear of the kitchen and cooked a few meals. I've tested my culinary projects on some friends. I am proud to say they all survived.(Except for maybe one ... I haven't heard from her in ages.)

My friend invited me to go swing dancing. I agreed, thinking, I'm new in town and I could probably benefit from branching out a bit.

But this just might be the most uncomfortable of situations I've listed. Dancing + strangers + physical contact = *shudders* I love strangers -- because along with them come new interests and passions to discover. I kind of like dancing -- alone. I have zero rhythm, to be honest. Physical contact, well, I show my friends and family affection through hugs. But all together!? I have horrible coordination. I can't imagine how those three distinct things will come together with music. But maybe I'll grow from it and make some friends while I'm at it.

Central Market teased me with it -- saying if I bought a pound of spinach, I could get cherry tomatoes and sliced mushrooms for free.

It hasn't been that long since I got out of college. I still love free stuff -- especially free food -- more than almost anything. Shopping when hungry is also a mistake. I could just picture the fresh spinach, tomato and mushrooms drizzled with balsamic vinegar and olive oil, and it almost made me drool in public. So, I gave in, not really thinking about what I'm going to do with the REST of the spinach.

It hit me when I got home that a pound of spinach is probably way too much for someone who doesn't have a six-person family to feed. So I pondered a few options: Should I eat salads for all my meals? Feed them to Biggie? Make a spinach necklace and bracelet?

No, no and no! I'm making quiche. I love quiche but I didn't think people actually made them at home. Apparently, they do, and soon I'll be one of them.

Well, we'll see. I'm thinking there's a difference between making quiche and attempting to make quiche. 

What other easy spinach recipes do you know? Key word: easy.

So lately, everytime Fort Worth came up in conversation, my eyes would light up, then I would subject my friends to my Fort-Worth-is-better-than-Dallas spiel. Sorry. Last week in Allen, I met the Potbelly manager at Watters Creek. Guess what -- he's from Fort Worth. As you can guess, I hung out there a few minutes longer than necessary, just to talk about Fort Worth, and how there is a Potbelly practically on campus and I ate there five times a week and I walked into that specific Potbelly in the first place because I missed Fort Worth.

People who haven't spent time in Fort Worth just don't get it -- it's real, laid-back and has personality and culture. So anytime I come across someone who knows Fort Worth, I latch onto them and conjure up favorite bars (pub, ginger man, pete's, embargo), restaurants (any on Magnolia is a winner), bar owners/tenders (Uncle Dave, Luis), road (Camp Bowie) ... I even miss getting on Interstate 30 to get everywhere, while in Dallas, Central Expressway has been its replacement. 

No, the city doesn't pay me to infiltrate the Dallas area with this information. It's the truth!

Maybe it's homesickness, but it's not that simple. I can't just go to Fort Worth right now and feel like I've taken care of my Fort Worth cravings. It's because my college friends and roommates won't all be there. So, I've actually avoided making the 45-minute drive west, because I'm afraid going to Fort Worth would make me miss it even more.

This week, one of my college roommates is visiting from Minnesota to help her little brother move into the dorm at TCU. So, Jesica has been in the same boat with me as someone who has missed Fort Worth all these summer months, and we're going to conquer the familiar, but a little empty city together.

I can't wait.

The Good
The mashed potatoes. They were instant and delicious.
My roommates missed the disaster in the kitchen.
The cabernet savignon -- my only friend tonight.
The asparagus -- I don't think I cooked it just right, but I've officially decided it's one of my favorite foods. All it needed was some butter, salt and pepper to taste and voila! It's officially my top three favorite food after potatoes and avocado.

The bad
Lemon garlic marinade on chicken. It's just not quite right. My roommates were right when they said lemon garlic was meant for fish.

The ugly
I cooked the whole bundle of asparagus, not really thinking about the fact that I don't have tupperware in the shape of a rocket. Five stalks later, I'm just staring at the beautiful things, wondering what to do. I can't bring myself to throw perfectly delicious food away! I wish I had friends.

The Central Market box kit with every single ingredient and sauce needed so you can just dump it all on a skillet then call it cooking. They taste great, and they'll impress your naive guests, but it's just ... so safe.

Yesterday, I ventured out to Tom Thumb, the cheaper, not-as-hip version of Central Market on the other side of Lovers Lane (not to mention the fact that Tom Thumb doesn't make a great date spot, but Central Market actually does!). I actually got unprepared ingredients -- chicken breast and asparagus, to be precise. This might sound anti-climactic to you, but I've gone from Ramen noodles and instant mac'n'cheese to Central Market kits to UNPREPARED, RAW INGREDIENTS in threeish months. A pat on the back? I think so.

Anyway, my next challenge is how to flavor the ingredients. I have lemon, butter and pepper to flavor the asparagus. I've braced my roommates for this project -- If they're smart, they'll fake a stomach ache and not show up to dinner. But maybe ... just maybe I can bribe them into trying the food.

Will report back later ...

Editor's note: This blog was renamed for the purpose of making it a bit more accessible to the readers. Good thing Mark is I'm so full of play on words.

As a way to welcome the newly named blog to the neighborsgo world, here's an overdue post.

My colleagues and I have been gathering content for our Back-to-School issues, and as I was communicating with my contributors, such as Michelle White and Amee Pearson,  I dug up some repressed Back-to-School memories.

My first day of kindergarten in Jakarta, I didn't speak a word of English. I would sneak off to my cubby just so I could copy my name down on my assignments. It wasn't writing -- it was drawing, since I didn't even know the alphabet.

In Thailand, we had to buy PE uniforms every single year, and school supplies came in a basket labeled by grade at the campus bookstore. So I never really had to scramble to stores with a list -- I guess I was spoiled.

I especially loved the smooth feeling of untouched notebook paper -- you could feel the little bumps of the blue notebook lines, kind of like speed bumps. Heck, I still love new notebooks -- It's just that this these days, it's reporter's notebooks.

I remember feeling really special when I started using the fancy mechanical pencils. The big fat ones that only required shaking like a salt shaker for the lead to appear was highly coveted. And I felt so grown up when in middle school, we started using pens instead of pencils. My brother, who is four years older, used to make me feel so small by pointing out the fact that big kids used pens in school, not pencils. Then I quickly learned that pencils worked better for me, since I wasn't always the most careful or neat writer.

Oh, and I can't forget about organizers. I would fill up my calendar as much as I could with birthdays and holidays, using different colored pens (anyone remember milky pens??) and vowed to write all my assignments down in it, though within a couple months I let it crumple at the bottom of my back pack.

One of the greatest feelings, though, was when I first entered middle school and I got lockers with combination locks. 

My first day of high school, in Korea, my little brother was only five days old.

Now, I'm a little disturbed that freshmen in college don't know what the Mighty Ducks is. Crazy.