the third time's the charm

There are simply not enough days in the month of October. Typically, as September draws to a close, I'm feeling productive. Feeling organized. But inevitably, as October begins the dark frosty march toward its conclusion, I find myself facing reality. Some plans will not see the light of day. Or more appropriately, the dark of night. And in a Halloween-ish twist on Murphy's Law, some of the best ideas always seem to come along in the dying days of October. Neglected, they pass into the shadowy world of "next year".

Last October, a few short days before Halloween, one such prop idea appeared. Okay, it didn't just appear; my son suggested it. I liked the idea of a dry abandoned bird bath with a bird skeleton or two perched on the edge, and thought it would be a natural fit for the front yard. But I knew I wouldn't have time to create it. I then suggested the obvious: that he might like to make it a last-minute project. A reasonable suggestion. At this point, I was patiently informed that he had fulfilled his creative role in providing the idea. My role was to now take said idea and turn it into a tangible object. At least it was reassuring to have a clearly defined set of expectations.

Flash forward a few months and that prop idea resurfaced in my consciousness. And with time on my hands, I started exploring my creative options. I began by reflecting on exactly what I expected from this skeleton, apart from the implied boniness.

First and foremost, it must be recognizable as a bird. Surprisingly, not as easy as it sounds.

Next, it must be able to withstand the potentially raging wind and torrential rain of an Atlantic October. Nothing is more disheartening than having to dash outside before breakfast to hunt down and rescue props as they blow out of the yard. Unless it's having to keep props indoors until Halloween night.

Finally, it shouldn't look too polished or pretty. I didn't anticipate any problems there.

So with durability and mediocrity in mind, I set to work. I won't devote much space to my first two attempts. Let's just say they involved varying combinations of duct tape, pipe cleaners, papier mache and Popsicle sticks and leave it at that. They are best forgotten. I will not speak of them again.

Then I started playing with clay. I've been wanting to experiment with clay for a while now and, running out of options, this seemed the ideal opportunity. Along the way, I learned some harsh truths: this stuff is much more lightweight when dry than wet, and cats like the taste.

Overall, the experiment yielded acceptable results. Perhaps not in the harsh unforgiving light of day. But certainly through the filter of darkness, dim lighting and fog at Halloween, I think the little guy will be fine. And while two of my criteria have been met, it remains to be seen how he will survive outdoors. Maybe this October will be dry and calm. Maybe. But that's a problem for another day. Right now, he's just a bird skeleton waiting for a birdbath to call his own. But that's an outdoor project and it's raining today. So here he sits. Waiting for the rain to stop. And trying to stay out of the cat's way.

orange and black

Lucky (the orange and white guy on the left) took advantage of the beautiful weekend weather to re-connect with an old friend. Albeit briefly.

thermometer rising

Today marks a milestone.

Today, for the first time in 2009, I took my coffee out onto the back deck . . . and I drank it there.

This is an important distinction.

Because it isn't the first time this year that I've attempted to drink my coffee on the deck. No, that day occurred two weeks ago. And how well I remember it. Lured by the brilliant sunshine pouring through the windows and encouraged by the softly chirping birds, I eagerly stepped outside, mug in hand. Two minutes later, I stepped back inside, mug still full of coffee, likely mere seconds before a layer of ice had begun to form on its sweet, creamy surface.

The deceptive cruelty of March left me feeling understandably cautious. But today, all is forgiven. Today, that unfortunate memory is disappearing faster than the ice and snow in my backyard. Warm sunshine . . . gentle breezes . . . the promise of double-digit temperatures. Reclining in a deck chair, feet up, face turned toward the sun, I sip my coffee, contemplate dusting off the grill, and anticipate the return of the spiders to my garden. They should be back any day now.

And much like the spiders, I too can now return to my backyard and deck, which double as my workshop (at least during the months that they're not buried under snow drifts). And the first outdoor project? The removal of last fall's accidentally splattered spray paint from the side of my house before any family members notice it. Luckily for me, they're not an exceptionally observant group.

gardening season

That reminds me, I've been thinking about growing my own pumpkins this year.

fresh tomatoes = fresh ketchup

It's good to know that Burger King uses only ketchup made from fresh tomatoes. I feel healthier already.

Source

under the weather

I always seem to get sick at the end of cold and flu season. Just when I'm feeling smug about having come through the winter unscathed. Perhaps this advertised cold remedy will help. I'm sure what I'm feeling falls somewhere between a cold and malaria. If that doesn't work, at least I've got the frakking end of Battlestar Galactica to comfort me tonight.

Source

J - e - l - l - o

There is something inherent in the arrival of spring that inspires me to rejuvenate my surroundings. To organize. Simplify. Prioritize. Purge. A major component of this yearly cathartic process involves throwing open cupboards, drawers and closets and exposing their contents to the cold light of a March day. And making some harsh pronouncements upon their fate.

And so it was that the emptying of a rarely-used kitchen cupboard revealed this:

A pumpkin-orange plastic Halloween Jello mold. Unused for a few years now, but once an integral part of the Halloween festivities at my house. Originally acquired "free", with the purchase of several packages of Jello, this humble piece of plastic provided faithful service throughout many Octobers, producing countless Jello jack-o-lanterns and ghosts. But anyone who has shared a home with two small children will immediately recognize the problem here. Only one ghost among all those jack-o-lanterns. One ghost. The trigger for all-out war. A powder keg waiting for a match. So what to do?

Sure, there are reasonable solutions. The ghost mold could simply remain empty. But that creates the additional problem of leftover Jello.

Or one ghost could be cut in half. But accurately cutting Jello is no easy task and two uneven pieces would just result in a renewed battle.

Perhaps each person could take a turn claiming the ghost, alternating with each successive package of Jello. Sadly, this is a solution that works so much better in theory than in practice.

Ultimately, the easiest solution to the problem of the lone Jello ghost presented itself. I would eat the ghost myself. Jello is a long way from being my favourite dessert, but it's a sacrifice I've been willing to make in the pursuit of peace and harmony. Especially when accompanied by ice cream.

But that was then.

Still, as I stood with the plastic mold in my hand, poised over the garbage bag, I was overcome with second thoughts, fond memories, and an inexplicable desire for orange-pineapple Jello and French Vanilla ice cream. And despite my devotion to my spring cleansing ritual, I relented. The Jello mold will live to see another Halloween.

pumpkin pi

Two mathematical holidays in one month! It doesn't get much better than this. Happy Pi Day!

More pi here

death takes a (forced) holiday

From the pages of my local newspaper, a little recession humour for Friday the 13th.

the cartoonist's website

100

I saw that this post is my 100th and I couldn't let this milestone pass unnoticed. An occasion like this demands pie.

which Witch Hazel?

I grew up in rural Cape Breton in the 1970's. Which means that I, and other television-loving children like me, had the overwhelming choice of two channels. CBC and CTV. And the French version of CBC, but that didn't count. That being said, two programs loomed large in my young life. The Bugs Bunny and Road Runner Hour on Saturdays at 6pm and The Wonderful World of Disney on Sundays at 6pm.

Years of devoted Bugs Bunny watching have resulted in the wascally wabbit's exploits being seared into my memory and I can't count the number of times I've watched him outwit or otherwise escape from poor old Witch Hazel.

From the first time he encountered her in Bewitched Bunny. Where Bugs was able to save Hansel and Gretel (and himself) with the aid of some "magic powder".

And later when he arrived at her door one Halloween night in Broomstick Bunny. And foiled her goal of being the ugliest witch in the land.

Until finally, when for reasons never explained, he was held captive in A Witch's Tangled Hare before playing matchmaker to Hazel and William Shakespeare.

Through the years, I never felt much sympathy for Bugs' broom-wielding nemesis. She was mean. Greedy. Cruel. Shrill. Not at all like that nice Witch Hazel in the Disney cartoon, Trick or Treat. The one who helped Huey, Dewey and Louie take their Halloween revenge on Donald after he greeted them with tricks instead of treats.


This Witch Hazel had a soft side. A sweetness. She seemed as though she could be the other Witch Hazel's hillbilly cousin. But I never suspected for a minute that they might actually be related.

But related they are. As I discovered when, like the Special Features addict I am, I absorbed every moment of the interviews and documentaries included with my classic Looney Tunes collection.

The story goes that Disney's Witch Hazel appeared on the scene first. Brought to life by the wonderful voice actor, June Foray. The story is well-known. Hazel swooped into Duckburg one Halloween night, stayed long enough to make Donald's life miserable (which is never difficult to do), and then she was gone. But she had not gone unnoticed.

She had caught the attention of Chuck Jones, who thought a witch named Hazel would be an ideal match for Bugs Bunny. And he asked June Foray to put on the witch's hat once more. She said no. Not because of any dislike of Hazel, but because she feared Disney would sue. After all, Warner Brothers was using the same name for their character, even if she bore absolutely no resemblance to her predecessor.

But Disney didn't sue. But not because of a sudden burst of old-fashioned Halloween spirit. No. Apparently it was because witch hazel is the name of an unassuming little plant and the medicine derived from it. Disney held no rights to it. Which is why witches named Hazel can pop up anywhere. Disney. Warner Brothers. Little Lulu. Tom and Jerry. Sabrina. And probably a zillion other places I'm not aware of.

So June Foray stepped under the witch's hat for Bugs Bunny's next two encounters with Hazel.

I think that learning the history of the Hazels makes me feel a little closer to both of them. Although if I had to encounter one of them on Halloween night, I think I'd prefer Disney's version. Altogether a kinder, gentler Hazel. The other Hazel would have me constantly looking over my shoulder.

I was reminded of the two Witch Hazels recently while gathering up my remaining VHS tapes and deciding which of them to part with and which to keep a little longer. While I own most of Bugs Bunny's run-ins with Witch Hazel on DVD, I'm still holding on to my VHS copy of Trick-or-Treat. At least until I get around to picking it up on a DVD collection. Or maybe Blu-ray if I wait long enough. Whatever I end up with, it has to have Special Features. Plenty of Special Features.

originals

As an admirer of Halloween-inspired art, I consider myself fortunate to own several original works. Reminiscent of the old Night Gallery television show of the 70's, these are displayed together along the walls of the upper hall of my house. Where it's Halloween all year long. Let's take a walk through the gallery.

This first piece, a mix of crayon and watercolour, has always seemed to me the true embodiment of the trick-or-treating spirit. Armed with a flashlight and candy bucket, an intrepid devil ventures out into the night, past the cemetery and the haunted house, unperturbed by the sinister presence of ghosts, bats and witches hovering in the sky above. Hmmm . . . on second thought, those ghosts don't look terribly sinister after all. Moving on . . .

Next, this representation of a monster was one of a collection of more than 30, created with the guidance of a visiting artist. And while the classroom display of the entire collection was undoubtedly impressive, I feel fortunate to own just one of these pieces. In my opinion, the best one.

Finally, this portrait of a witch was one of the first additions to my collection. She has always seemed to me to be fleeing in terror, rather than striking it into the hearts of others. Nevertheless, it was recognized with the prestigious award of "Best Portrayal". Maybe it was the prominent warts.

Sadly, further additions to this collection are unlikely. The artists are no longer creating Halloween images. They've chosen to pursue other interests. Leaving behind a small but impressive body of work.

who's watching the Watchmen . . . carve pumpkins

Today's the day. Actually, for me, tomorrow's the day. One o'clock show. Twenty-four more hours.

happy square root day

I can't believe this day almost passed unnoticed. Happy Square Root Day! Indeed a cause for celebration.

Photo source

in like a lion . . .

Another week, another winter storm. Undoubtedly orchestrated by those groundhogs, delivering on their wintry predictions. And predictably . . . another storm, another snow day. Or in this case, an ice day. So what do you do when you're trapped in your house and the immediate environment is covered in a layer of frozen rain? Well, you feel thankful that you still have electricity, pop some popcorn and settle in on the couch for an Invisible Man marathon.

I don't consider The Invisible Man a horror movie. Suspense? Yes. Science Fiction? Perhaps. Slapstick Comedy? Occasionally. But horror? No. Not even 1930's horror. However, Universal has seen fit to include these films in its classic horror collection, so why quibble? Start melting the butter.


The Invisible Man tells the story of a brilliant scientist who discovers the secret of invisibility but fails to notice the fine print on one of the ingredients in his formula warning of the minor side effect of insanity. And as mad scientists do, he has tested his formula on himself without working out an antidote. So now he must seclude himself away from prying eyes while he works out a way to make himself visible again. And where better to do this than a rented room above a noisy pub?


It is here that the film veers wildly between suspense and physical comedy. Bumbling policemen. Buffoonish villagers. Hysterical landladies. Our invisible man spends the remainder of the film attempting to find his antidote while always remembering to take some time off to enjoy himself, laughing maniacally as he does so. Needless to say, it doesn't end well.


It was several years before Universal created a sequel in The Invisible Man Returns. And this is rather deceptive. The invisible man does not return. This is an entirely different invisible man. We learn that the original invisible man had a brother who is now conveniently in possession of the invisibility formula. But the brother does not use the formula himself. Very sensible. Since there is still no antidote and that pesky insanity side effect remains an issue. But when he learns that a friend is about to be executed for a murder he didn't commit . . . well, given the choice between death and insanity, they come down firmly on the side of insanity. The formula has clearly been refined since it is now accessible through drinking a potion rather than injecting it under the skin. And who knows? Someone may develop that antidote any moment.


In a celebration of invisibility, The Invisible Man Returns was followed in the same year by The Invisible Woman. With its original tag line "The Year's Funniest Fun", it becomes immediately obvious that this movie has absolutely nothing in common with the first two, apart from the word "Invisible" in the title. No secret potion. No murderous insanity. No antidote to worry about. But that's okay. A little light-hearted romantic comedy makes a nice mid-marathon break.

Two years later, the U.S. had joined the war and it's difficult to imagine a better contribution to the war effort than an Invisible Agent.

This time around, it's the grandson of the original invisible man who has somehow gained possession of the invisibility formula. He's living quietly under an assumed name, presumably because everyone was pestering him to make them invisible. Despite his best efforts, however, the Axis powers have tracked him down and are demanding the formula. Instead of giving in, our hero decides volunteer as an invisible spy behind enemy lines. What follows can perhaps best be described as The Invisible Man meets Hogan's Heroes. And it's as far from H.G. Wells as you can get.

Finally, when all hope was nearly extinguished, Universal returned to its invisible roots with the atmospheric The Invisible Man's Revenge.

We're back to the English village with it's bumbling characters, although the police appear slightly more competent than in the first film. We follow Robert Griffin (no relation to the invisible Griffins of previous films) as he escapes from a mental hospital and makes his way to England to seek revenge on those believed to have left him for dead and stolen his fortune in diamonds. At first, he simply approaches his former partners, demanding their money and property. Oh, and he'd also like their 20-something daughter thrown in to complete the deal. Predictably, they refuse. Our hero then wanders into the countryside where he encounters a slightly-mad scientist with a house full of invisible pets and a desire to test his formula on a human. So why not?

In this case the "antidote" is a transfusion with the blood of another human. And we don't have to worry about the formula causing insanity. This guy is already insane.

The Invisible Man's Revenge is as close as any of these movies comes to horror. But if I had to pick a favourite, it would have to be the second film, The Invisible Man Returns. I want to choose the original. But I just can't get past that annoyingly hysterical landlady. No matter how much the film's director reportedly loved her performance. And Claude Rains maniacal laughter. Grating. And cheesy. But there are worse ways to spend an icy grey day. And when it was over, the rain was no longer freezing. Just wet. And . . . I think those just might be patches of grass in the yard.