plan B

Plan B of the Halloween tree project will be in progress this week. Now that I've finally gotten around to going out and getting the dye. I'm curious to see how (or if) it turns out.

I remain optimistic. But following the unfortunate incident with the spray paint and styrofoam, I'm also quietly formulating Plan C.

the geek family prepares for Hal-Con (update)

I may have to consider changing the title of this post, since I seem to be the only one doing any preparation around here. But with the weeks racing past, I feel I should at least make a start on what will likely be a futile attempt to prevent October from becoming the frantic blur it typically is. So, following a lukewarm display of enthusiasm from my family, we have firmly decided upon Tusken Raiders as our group costume for Hal-Con.

My research led me to an incredible site within minutes. A pleasant surprise compared to the hours I often spend searching for something on the internet and finding nothing but frustration and irritability. Studio Creations has everything I could possibly need to transform my entire family into Tusken Raiders. With detailed step-by-step instructions and a list of materials. Now of course comes the interesting part. The part where I apply my usual modifications and attempt to use materials I already have on hand. Always a challenge.

leftovers

Imagine my surprise when my daughter came downstairs and dumped onto the kitchen table a bag of assorted Halloween treats. Leftovers from last October. October! Apparently she's had them organized and categorized and has been gradually working her way through the bag since then and has eaten as many as she wants. And is now very kindly donating the remainder to her family.

After briefly admiring her will-power, I rushed to the table with the rest of the family, lest they should claim all the good stuff. Then I noticed that, apart from a few Coffee Crisp bars and several bags of Ruffles chips, there really wasn't any good stuff. Just the sad unloved treats that have lingered at the bottom of countless Halloween treat bags.

Makes me wonder what else she has hidden up there.

time for plan B

So . . . spray paint really does eat through thin styrofoam. And now, back to the drawing board.

Robin and me

I've been sorting through old photographs for another project I'm working on, and although I'm not sure when this one was taken, if my beautifully co-ordinated outfit is any indication, it was likely the early seventies. Which would make me about seven. But it wasn't the vibrant combination of red and magenta that stopped me when I reached this photograph. Instead, it was the memory of the chair. That big comfortable chair in the corner of my childhood living room. It reminded me of the countless television shows I enjoyed as a child while curled up there. It reminded me of The Flintstones. And Bewitched. And Gilligan's Island. And George of the Jungle. But most of all it reminded me of Batman. And my days masquerading as Robin.

I would have been too young to have watched the 1960's version of Batman during its original run. But fortunately for me, it was shown almost constantly in re-runs throughout my formative years. And I loved it. I loved the comic book flavour. The over-the-top villains. The action-packed fight sequences with their Bam! Pow! commentary.

I'm surprised that, given my love for the television show, I never chose to dress up as either Batman or Robin for Halloween. The costumes must have been available. But I was always something generic. Like a clown or a cat. Perhaps it was just as well. It would have been almost impossible to fit a warm jacket under one of those costumes and remain a proud superhero. Wherever Gotham City was, it clearly wasn't northerly. So I may have been discouraged for reasons of climate.

But it wasn't only on Halloween night that I embraced the joy of dressing up. No, I would create costumes and assume new personalities in all seasons. And one summer, likely after part of a school vacation marked by daily episodes of Batman, I decided to become one of my favourite superheroes. My memory is fuzzy on why I opted for Robin. Maybe I identified with him as a character closer to my own age. Maybe I simply recognized it as an easier costume to create. Batman's costume would be a challenge to assemble using whatever I could find around the house. But Robin's costume seemed possible. So Robin I would become.

I'm grateful that no photographs were taken. I have to rely on my memory to fill in the details. And that's painful enough. I recall wearing shorts and a t-shirt (likely as colourful as my clothes in the above photograph). And a towel as my cape. And an eye mask made from paper and string. But the greatest difficulty would prove to be the "R" emblem - Robin's signature accessory. It had to be impressive. Instantly noticeable. Ordinary paper simply would not do. Finally, the solution presented itself. In the form of a leftover piece of vinyl flooring. Cutting the letter "R" from the stiff plastic was no easy feat. It was a task worthy of a superhero. But eventually, it was done. And mounted on a painted cardboard disc. And pinned to my t-shirt. And off I ventured into the yard to fight nefarious villains. Where I promptly attracted the attention of my cousin and his friend. And not in a good way.

Sure they snickered. But they immediately recognized me as Robin. Thanks to that impressive vinyl emblem. Instantly noticeable. And despite their mockery, I felt an immense pride. My costume had obviously been a success.

new growth

I have given considerable thought recently to the materials I might use in the construction of my Halloween tree. The idea of a large papier mache project is appealing, mostly because of the flexibility I feel it would provide in terms of design. Unfortunately, however, workspace is an issue for me. There is simply no separate secure space which I could devote to the construction of a project this size. Especially in the dead of winter. And having a cat become covered in papier mache paste as he familiarizes himself with the developing tree is not something I wish to experience.

Even if a place for construction could be found, there would still be the problem of where to store the completed prop(s). There's that pesky space issue again. I always try to build large props in such a way that they can be (somewhat) easily dis-assembled. The following year, they can then be re-assembled or have their component parts used in the creation of something completely different.

So papier mache is out. Wire and foam are in. And tape. Gotta have tape.









I've begun experimenting with branches.

off-season

The workshop in winter. Snow and ice and cats' paw prints.







Is it spring yet?

deterioration

I think I'm breaking down. Literally. Physically.

The eyes were the first to go. My bi-focals progressive lenses arrive next week. Then there's the recurring pain that starts in my jaw and radiates up and around my left eye, down into my neck and over into my ear. My dentist sent me to an endodontist who informed me that I have a dead worn tooth, complete with abscess and infection. The extraction is scheduled for later this week. And then there's my toe; a supposed sprain that, rather than healing, is becoming increasingly painful. X-rays are pending. I've spent more time in various doctors' waiting rooms in the past five weeks than in the entire five years before that.

Fortunately, that time hasn't been wasted. I've spent a portion of it thinking about the progress of my Halloween tree and attempting to develop a detailed vision of its final form. As usual, I've started this project without a clear idea of how it will end or exactly how I will get there. I typically just start working and let the prop be my guide. With varying results.

But the time spent in waiting rooms has got me thinking. About size. And weight. And number. And materials. And wind and rain. And I've made some choices. Now all that remains is to see if they actually work.

a beginning

I've finally started working on my outdoor Halloween tree. Just bare bones at the moment. Chicken wire and a tomato cage to make it easier to secure to the ground. It's currently six feet tall; I'm aiming for a final height of eight feet, or even ten in my wilder imaginings. This is the prototype. If it turns out well, I'll make at least two more. To populate a front yard sadly lacking in large trees.

On the left edge of the photograph is my assistant, admiring my work.

a lovely bright spot

The morning was bleak.  Fresh snow had fallen overnight in a valiant attempt to mask the crusty detritus of the New Year's Day nor'easter in a soft mantle of sparkling powder. Alas, it brought only further misery. And the hard grey skies to the west fortold of more to come.

Then, out of the semi-darkness, there appeared a glimmer of light.  Pink and white light. With flowers and teacups.

Thank you, Max, for bestowing upon me this lovely award and brightening an otherwise dreary day.  You're the kindest severed head I know.

results may vary (part two)

When I began to gather my favourite Halloween recipes, I didn't realize it would become such a sentimental journey down memory lane. Or more accurately, failure lane.

Those boxes of miniature chocolate bars are an important part of my Halloween celebrations. So when I found recipes which incorporated said chocolate bars, I was intrigued.




It seemed simple enough. Bake a layer cake. Place melted Snickers bars between the layers. Decorate top of cake. Easy.




Except that I didn't have enough miniature Snickers bars and used Mars bars instead (some call them Milky Way bars). A reasonable substitution, right? Basically the same except for a few peanuts. Well, apparently not. I'm still not sure exactly what went wrong. Was it the consistency of the Mars bars? Was the cake still too warm? Who knows? All I remember is that the "thick layer" of melted Mars bar mostly dissolved into the cake. When I cut the cake on Halloween night, the chocolate and nougat were gone. Vanished. Leaving only a thin layer of caramel in their wake. Needless to say, the cake looked nothing like the above photo.

Personally, I think these recipes should carry a warning for people like me. People who can't just follow a recipe's simple instructions. People who can't resist the urge to modify. That little M&M vampire should be saying something like: "Don't even think about substituting ingredients!"

results may vary

While scanning through old magazines for favourite Halloween recipes to add to my shiny new recipe box, I came across one that I tried last year with less than stellar results. Not in terms of taste. They were incredibly delicious. Just not very attractive.

I encountered the recipe in Martha's lacklustre 2009 Halloween offering. It was one of the bright spots in an otherwise mediocre issue. Pastry Pumpkins. Puff pastry and cheese. What's not to love? I made a couple of modifications, as I often do. Replaced the Gruyere with Gouda. Replaced the paprika with cayenne pepper. But I think my mistake occurred in the rolling of the dough. Too thick. Much too thick. The first clue was ending up with a total of 12 pumpkins instead of the predicted 18 -24. The resulting baked pumpkins were not quite pumpkin-shaped. They were more . . . blob-shaped. In my haste to consume puff pastry, I also forgot to score the dough. Which likely didn't help. No photographs exist; they wouldn't be recognizable anyway.

But they were delicious. Delicious enough to merit a spot in the recipe box. So delicious, in fact, that I may not wait until next Halloween. Perhaps some heart shapes for Valentine's Day. Or snowflakes. If I find my snowflake cookie cutter before spring.

sidetracked

The title of this post is misleading. I haven't really gotten sidetracked. I've just . . . remembered a project that I had planned to begin but that had gotten pushed to the back of my mind. And now it's worked its way to the forefront again. It's not a prop. But it is Halloween-related. So I don't feel as if I'm falling off the New Year's resolution wagon already. Simply taking a detour. The scenic route. The long way around.

Anyway. I save many of the Halloween magazines I buy each year. And each year, I become increasingly frustrated when I go off in search of a recipe that I know I saw in one of those magazines. Somewhere. I eventually find it. Sometimes. But only after an irritatingly long search.

So then I thought: Why not make copies of my favourite recipes. The ones I absolutely love and know I will search for again and again. Photocopy them. Or copy them the old-fashioned way. With a pen. Put them on index cards. And place them in a recipe box. Simple and convenient. I even bought an unfinished wooden box at Michael's last fall. Then I put it in a cupboard and forgot about it.



But now with the snow piled up outside it became the perfect quickie project. Amazingly quick. Especially for someone like me who tends to drag projects out until they've taken much longer than ever intended. Tweaking. Changing. Starting over.



But not this time. Some orange and black paint. Some images of vintage postcards clipped from a magazine. Some Modge Podge. And done. Well, almost done. I'd like to put something on the lid. And maybe a snappy name for the box. I'll have to think about that. I'm sure it will take much longer than ever intended.

death comes to town

Suddenly, the new show's trailers are everywhere. So I have no excuse for missing it. I am eagerly anticipating the return of the Kids in the Hall next week. They've been away far too long. They're back, but for eight weeks only, in the murder mystery Death Comes To Town, which has been described as Corner Gas meets Twin Peaks. And rumour has it the Chicken Lady will be making an appearance. Can it get any better than that? I remain cautiously optimistic.

hanging on

In the calm before yesterday's storm, I took a walk and noticed a few crisp autumn leaves still hanging on bravely despite the frigidity in the air. I must return to see if any survived the nor'easter.

halloween resolutions for 2010

It's been many years since I've bothered to make New Year's resolutions aimed at general self-improvement. I've found that the discouragement that results from unfulfilled promises to myself is best avoided by avoiding the promises altogether. This system has been working well for me.

Last year, however, I made for the first time, several Halloween Resolutions. My reasoning was that I would be more likely to keep these resolutions if they involved something I loved. While recently reflecting upon these resolutions, I was pleased to note that they had been largely fulfilled by the time October 31st, 2009 arrived. Thus, encouraged by the warmth of smug self-satisfaction, I once again take pen to paper. Or fingers to keyboard. And make my Halloween Resolutions for 2010.

This year's list is considerably shorter than last year's. In fact, all of my energy will be focused on just one major resolution. Last year, I had resolved to start building props earlier in the year. And start earlier I did. In a haphazard, unfocused sort of way. Projects were started. Projects were put aside. Some were completed. Some not. Serious organization and improvement is clearly needed here. Enter the New Year's Resolution:

I hereby resolve to create, at minimum, one new Halloween prop in each month of 2010.


That's it. My one resolution. One month; one completed prop. Minimum. Emphasis on "completed".

And January's project?

That outdoor tree that's been kicking around for a while now. Much pondered but never begun. It's time has finally come. I think I'll start today . . . or maybe tomorrow. I feel more organized already.

Happy New Year.