So I have a pumpkin.An eighty-plus pound pumpkin.As giant pumpkins go, I’m told it’s a small one.The pumpkin is sitting in the middle of my living room, but really, the rest of the living room is sitting around the pumpkin. It’s the first thing everybody notices. And then they sit on it.”Hey,” I yell at them, “I’m going to make soup out of that!”They laugh. Cruelly.When I move the pumpkin, it leaves what looks like a butt print.

Friday’s forecast: Hey A.S., soup’s on.