Every Halloween since I was four (I imagine) I've carved a jack o' lantern. I'm kneeling on the basement or kitchen floor atop a couple of layers of old newspapers with a metal spoon and a big orange gourd. The guts get piled to the side, the bottom of the pumpkin is scraped and scraped.
Those early years my father carved my jack o'lantern face for me to my specifications. When I got to college, I deftly stabbed through the squash's flesh myself. As my offspring increased in number, I carved more jack o'lanterns. Happy faces, silly faces, scary faces, mad faces, and frightened faces. I carved ears, noses, eyes, teeth, hair and even a beauty mark.
And every year I discover that the instant my hands go inside that pumpkin to disassemble it's guts, my hands break out into a raw, red, itchy rash. Every single year.
I can eat pumkin without any adverse affect. I can touch the smooth skin of a pumpkin without trouble. But my skin is allergic to pumpkin guts--have you ever heard of such a thing?
And every year I wash and wash and wash my hands after the carving is over to restore my skin to it's natural condition. The price we pay for holiday pleasures.