scarecrows for Christmas

It's comforting to see a scarecrow sharing house space with Christmas lights. Even a smiley-happy scarecrow. I encountered this guy lounging on a balcony during a Boxing Day walk.

Merry Christmas

Christmas Day gains a whole new meaning when it brings a giant Santa Claus marauding through your village. Makes me feel grateful I wasn't alive in 1958.

Merry Christmas to all.

Source

too little, too late

So I'm down at Sobeys, replenishing my supply of Santa's Milk and Cookies ice cream. When I notice something in the freezer beside said ice cream. Something orange. Upon closer inspection, I discover, there next to Santa's Milk and Cookies, heretofore unseen containers of Praline Pumpkin Pie ice cream. Many, many, many containers of Praline Pumpkin Pie ice cream.

Was this ice cream available in my grocery store in October? No it was not. Nor was it available in any previous October. In fact, the perpetual lack of pumpkin and/or Halloween themed delicacies has been a lament of mine for many years. But despite the poor timing of the product's arrival, I immediately purchased some. How could I not? Pralines. Pumpkin pie. What's not to love?

What's not to love? This ice cream, that's what. Pasty. Bland. Thoroughly unappetizing. It's continued presence in my freezer speaks volumes. And this, in a family that routinely devours 2 litre containers of ice cream in under 48 hours. It seems poor timing is not the only problem here. Pumpkin Pie Praline could learn some serious lessons from Santa's Milk and Cookies.

two birds with one cloak

I've been giving considerable thought recently to the insanity that was the final week of October. The week before Halloween is always a busy one. But this year, the madness was multiplied by the presence of Hal-Con, my city's first comic/sci-fi convention, and judging by the turnout, not its last. With Hal-Con promising to be an annual event and with its likely continuing proximity to Halloween, I need a strategy to preserve my mental health.

And I believe I have one. In a word: Nazgul.





Yes, Frodo's pursuers may be just what I'm looking for. The ideal Halloween/Hal-con compromise.

Costumes suitable for a sci-fi/fantasy/comic convention. With the all-important requirement of complete facial coverage demanded by my teenagers. And of course, menacing, black-robed creatures are always welcome on Halloween night. I haven't quite decided on next year's theme, but chances are good that I can fit in a ringwraith somewhere. Certainly more easily than a Tusken Raider. And best of all, these costumes appear to fall well within the range of my sewing and gluing abilities. If I can piece together four Tusken Raiders, surely I can handle these.

Yes. Nazgul. The obvious solution when Halloween and Hal-Con collide.

nightmare

While the combination of starting a new job and getting hit by the worst cold in memory has left me with little time or inclination for any activity that hasn't centred around lying on a couch clutching a box of Kleenex and a mug of tea, I managed to drag myself off the couch and downtown on the weekend for some Christmas shopping. Because I'm not sure how this happened, but Christmas is suddenly a mere two weeks away.

My retail wanderings led me into a local comic book shop in search of a Wonder Woman action figure for a friend. I didn't find the action figure. But the trip wasn't wasted. Because there in the shop, propped up on a side table, was a game. And not just any game. Nightmare Before Christmas Monopoly. I stood there. Mesmerized. Sure, I'm familiar with the countless "-opolies" out there: Horse-opoly, Beer-opoly, Nintendo-opoly, and their ilk. But I had not previously encountered this version.



I love The Nightmare Before Christmas. And the sight of the game reminded me just how much. It beckoned to me. With its colourful board and its character games pieces. I picked it up. Turned it over slowly in my hands. Perhaps an early Christmas present, I reasoned. For myself. And then I remembered . . .

I hate Monopoly. In all its incarnations. I've hated it since childhood. Everyone seemed to own it. Including me, after it was delivered one Christmas by a misguided Santa Claus who was obviously influenced by popularity and advertising. Everyone seemed to love it. Except me. Everyone seemed to always want to play it. Except me.

But play it, I did. Despite my objections. Despite my desperate attempts to direct attention to other and, in my opinion, far more enjoyable board games. Despite my best efforts, I was always voted down. Inevitably, I would succumb to the pressures of playing Monopoly. And I would always lose. Always. Which I'm sure has absolutely nothing to do with my lifelong disdain for the game.

So as I stood there in the comic book shop, game in hand, these conflicting emotions surged through my mind. And I quietly placed the game back on the table and stepped away. Even Jack and Sally and Oogie Boogie couldn't help me overcome a lifetime of negativity. There would be no "Nightmare Before Christmas -opoly" in my home. Never. But maybe I can find a nice Nightmare Before Christmas version of Uno. Or Operation. Or perhaps Scrabble . . .