Christmas Shopping...in November....

As always, this weekend has gone way too fast! It actually seems like life is going by too fast. When you get to Autumn and Halloween passes, suddenly it seems like there are very few weekends between now, Thanksgiving and Christmas. Sure, in terms of days, it seems like a lot but in terms of weekend, there's not as many as there could be in order to get things done.

It's not like I'm even that much of a busy person. It's more that I like to drag out celebrating Christmas and when it's broken down into the cold hard facts of there being about 8 weekends between now and then, it really doesn't seem like much particularly when you're already getting invitations to do stuff, there are birthdays in there and work, as always, might get in the way.

So, I'm trying to get a head start. I actually started Christmas shopping in August. Yes, I know it's early but I'm a firm believer in being prepared and even if it's four months early, if I see something someone I know will like and it's at the right price, it will keep for a few months. I still have a lot to buy, however.

The funny thing is that there are quite a few days until Christmas. Even though I work every day, that's not to say I can't do stuff after work. Also, there are still about eight weekends until Christmas. It might be seven or eight. If I had a calendar nearby, I'd count but...I don't and I'm lazy.

Regardless, I'm feeling oddly...panicked already about Christmas which is...wierd. Normally, I don't get that panicked about the holidays because, as I said, I like to be prepared. It's only when you're lying in bed, two days before Christmas Day, running through the checklist of what you've bought and for whom you've bought gifts and you realize, oops...you still haven't got that thing for person X. I know, I know...Christmas isn't really about the gifts and there's more meaning to it than that. I'm not saying there isn't. Yet the cold hard fact of the matter is if you're passing out gifts to your family and you realize that, crap, you forgot to get something for your sister-in-law, etc...you feel like a complete loser of a twit.

Thus, even though it is about much more than gifts, gifts are a part of the celebration. So, buying gifts is part of Christmas...

No, I think my feelings of panic are entirely the fault of retailers who decided that the day after Halloween was a perfectly fine time to overly bedeck the halls, slam us with Christmas advertisements and start having Christmas sales with great prices.

My mistake is that I went shopping on Saturday. I went innocently- one of the warehouse outlets near me was having a great sale on a fold up table and I'd offered to go get one for my parents who are officially starting a Kids Table at Thanksgiving this year. Since they have no actual table at which to sit the kids, the one I saw in the ad would have been perfect.

I got the table with no problems. However, the store was also having a huge sale on Christmas decorations and toys. Even though I try NOT to jump into Christmas until at least Thanksgiving, I usually resist. However, it's quite easy to get sucked in. My strategy is to try to buy ahead so that there's not too much financial stress right before Christmas. I figured it wouldn't hurt to look.

So I did. I found a gift for my niece. It was a great price and I think she'll like it. However, this find of a gift coupled with the Christmas-bedazzled store and the strange, distant sound of Christmas carols flipped a switch into my brain. Immediately, I began to scour the shelves to find gifts for my other niece and my two nephews. I couldn't find anything that jumped out at me and for one moment, I had that brief urgent distress signal flare up: WHAT IF I CAN'T FIND A GIFT FOR THEM? WHAT IF IT'S THE WRONG GIFT AND THEY HATE IT.

Fortunately, I am actually a mostly rational human. I immediately had an internal dialogue with that side of my brain in which the Christmas switch had flipped that went something like this:

"DUDE! CALM DOWN."
"I CAN'T! I NEED TO BUY GIFTS."
"Sweetie, it's November the Fifth. It's Guy Fawkes Day."
"Thanks for reminding me. I CAN'T FIND ANYTHING THEY'LL LIKE!"
"My point is- It's THE FIFTH OF NOVEMBER."
"Yes. And?"
"YOU HAVE EIGHT WEEKS! In eight weeks, I'm quite sure that you'll be quite capable of not only buying gifts for the kids but the adults as well."
"Oh. Ok. WAIT! Should I look for gifts for the adults?"
"No."
"No? But.."
"Shut up and go buy shampoo."
"Oh. Ok."
"And you need drain opener too. Have a look for that."
"Ok. Do you think...?"
"No. Go buy drain cleaner."

You get my point, right? I know that one of the reasons for Christmas saturation beginning so early is that the retailers know that with the economy still being pretty bad, people are trying to stretch out their spending...much like me. It makes it much easier to buy gifts if you're thrust into the season as soon as you walk into a store even if it is only the first week of November.

It's just that, for the first time, even though I have some gifts, I'm already feeling behind which is ridiculous.

It's not just me. The pups and I were walking today and we noticed at least one house that had their decorations up. I get the need to start shopping earlier but, really...decorations? Really? It's quite hard to understand when it's a balmy 65 degrees out, the trees are still quite leafy- albeit splendours in their autumn colours and there are still tomatoes on the vines.

Ah well...I'm sure in a couple of weeks, I'll be contemplating putting my decorations up too...I suppose it doesn't matter really what the date is, does it? When you're ready to start celebrating Christmas, you're ready to start celebrating Christmas...I think I just need to stop fighting it.

It doesn't mean I'm going to go into full panic mode though...not yet, anyway. There's still plenty of time...as long as I keep telling myself that, I'll be fine.

Right?

Happy Monday!

Of Toilet Seats and Spiders....

It's Guy Fawkes' Day today across the Atlantic in England. I won't go into detail as to what that means and what it is because I did that last year and I try not to repeat myself terribly often. I haven't really celebrated the occasion in many years, mostly because when you live in an apartment in Los Angeles, it's not acceptable to light a bonfire and burn an effigy of Guy Fawkes on the flames. Nor is it acceptable to set off fireworks in the beginning of November. Last year, when I moved back to the Midwest, I still lived in an apartment and I didn't do much to honour it, other than to blog about it and remember that it actually was Bonfire Night in the UK.

This year, I had sort of hoped that maybe I could at least have a fire but it turns out that unless it's a firepit type of fire, it's not allowed in the limits of my city. I contemplated buying a firepit and every time I go to Lowes, I admire them lovingly but, alas, as a newish homeowner, I have quickly learned that there are far more useful, far more necessary things to do with the $100 I could spend on a firepit. Thus, while I continue to stare at them lovingly in Lowe's, I don't make the move to purchase one. Also, they've started adding a new item to the price tag- a $10 assembly fee. I looked quite closely to see what that meant but couldn't figure it out. On some of them, it seemed to imply that you just got the pit- the actual place to hold the fire was sold separately which is....odd. Still, on my weekly trips to Lowe's, I shall continue to try to solve the mystery of the assembly fee. I do go to Lowe's fairly frequently. Last week, it was for a new toilet seat. That was an adventure. When you think about buying a house, the idea of buying a toilet seat is something that doesn't really cross your mind, at least not for me. There are a lot of things that don't cross your mind until you realize you need something. For example, for me, a toilet seat is something you sit on...on the toilet. Who knew that there were so many options? There are wood ones, anti-microbial ones, foamy ones that are soft to sit on, economy ones, wood grain ones....there's an entire area of Lowes just dedicated to toilet seats.

These are the things I have learned over the past few months; the insignificant things in my house are not so insignificant that there isn't at least two or three options to choose from. Take my bathtub. I needed a new plug so I could take a bath. It seemed like a normal sized drain hole so I innocently thought I'd be able to find a plug at Lowe's fairly easily. Oh, silly Captain Monkeypants! There is a huge supply of bathtub plugs at Lowe's. They're all different sizes. No matter how confident you are that you know the size of your drain hole, when you start staring at all the plugs, you quickly forget and the self-doubt creeps in. Fortunately, since the plugs were less than $1 each, I did the smart thing: I bought three that looked about the right size and hoped for the best. The one I thought would be the candidate to most likely NOT fit turned out to be the one that fit.

The toilet seat was easier. I opted for a wooden anti-microbial one. I hate the foamy ones. They feel vile when you sink into them. You're not supposed to sink into a toilet seat. It's just....not right. Of course, because my toilet is a rather unpleasant shade of mustard yellow, I thought white might look a bit odd so I opted for a 'biscuit' coloured one. The one I was replacing was one of those nasty wood grain ones. I think now I have my biscuit-coloured seat on my toilet that I understand why there was a wood grain one on there. The biscuit and the mustard clash just enough that it gives the impression that the toilet hasn't been flushed. Also, I tightened the seat as much as I could and yet when you sit on it, you take the teensiest little trip to the right as the seat swings away from under you. Until I really tightened the nuts on the seat, the trip to the right was much more severe and a little alarming.

How did I get on this bizarre topic? Umm....oh, right! Sorry- Lowe's. It's amazing how easy it is to digress.

So, back to the original topic, firepits for Guy Fawkes' Day. I didn't get one. So I won't be having a bonfire. Which I probably could have said way earlier without talking about toilet seats...

Still, the nice thing is that I could have a firepit if I wanted. That's the lovely thing about owning my own house. I can do whatever I want. For example, I noticed that my bathroom ceiling is vile and I'd never noticed. Thus, I can fix it.

There are some things I'm learning about having a house though. I used to live on a second floor apartment. My house is one story. Thus...I'm closer to the ground. This means that on these chilly nights, the warmth of my home is appealing to outdoor types such as Herbert 2.0 who I met last night.

Herbert 2.0 is a rather large spider. He's version 2.0 because the original Herbert lives in my cubicle here at work somewhere. He comes out to visit once in a while. He's quite large and the first time I saw him, I was a little worried and almost squished him with my stapler. Then I realized that it wasn't his fault he was a spider and I put down the stapler and decided sharing is caring and if he wants to make his home in my cubicle, then so be it. We made our peace. As long as I don't find the Original Herbert on my being anywhere, crawling on my skin, in my jeans or anywhere spiders shouldn't be, I think we can both share my cubicle.

Herbert 2.0, however, is not as welcome. Not when he moves towards me as though he's coming to sit on my lap. I was on my settee last night, talking to my friend on the phone when I saw this rather large lump moving on my couch. Naturally, I did the traditional thing. I squealed like a pig. Quite loudly. In my friend's ear. Once I had finished my mini panic moment, I gathered my wits and investigated nervously. Herbert 2.0 was a VERY large spider. He was at least the size of a quarter and he had big yellow eyes. Also, he kept inching towards me. Even though they make me a little nervous, I still don't like to kill spiders because, as I keep saying, it's not their fault they're born creepy. So, thanks to the sane presence of my friend on the phone, I managed to scoop up Herbert 2.0 and put him outside while trying not to squeal again. I made my friend promise not to hang up until Herbert 2.o had been removed just in case he grew even bigger and ate me.

Of course, in retrospect, I realize that there is no possible way Herbert 2.0 could really have grown. Nor could he have eaten me. Yet when you're being faced down by a large, hairy spider with beady little eyes, anything seems possible. I even managed to not squish him accidentally as I tried to liberate him. I hope he doesn't hold it against me that I put him out into the cold when all he probably wanted to do was come and say hi and thank me for my hospitality. Spiders don't hold grudges, do they?

Then again, maybe I shouldn't talk about grudges. We British still apparently hold a grudge against poor old Guy Fawkes who committed his crime over four hundred years ago. If Herbert 2.0 hunts me down, I'll let you know. He probably has a right. For all I know, he's been living in my house longer than I have and I just evicted him.

Oh dear.

Happy Thursday!

A (slightly gory) History Lesson

I shall start this day with a little rhyme, I think:

Remember remember the fifth of November

Gunpowder, treason and plot.

I see no reason why gunpowder, treason

Should ever be forgot...

No, that's not my opinion on the election. I am not holing up like the Unabomber, ready to unleash gunpower and treason on my government, friends or family. I'd be a lousy Unabomber anyway; I'm not good at being out in nature unless it involves a fancy cabin or hotel room with a working shower and a fluffy pillow. Thus, holing up in a ramshackle cabin....not for me.

The rhyme is one from my youth, one we used to say in school all the time on this date. It's a reminder that today, in the UK (and parts of Canada, South Africa, Australia and other countries that used to have something to do with with Britain) it is Guy Fawkes Day, aka. Bonfire Night. As I mentioned, when I was a kid, Halloween was not big in the UK. Instead, we moved quickly past it onto Bonfire Night.

First, a little history for those of you who don't really know what it is or you haven't see V for Vendetta. Guy Fawkes was a major part of a group of English Roman Catholic revolutionaries who weren't too happy with the King and government of England in 1605. King James I hadn't been very nice to the Catholics and so Guy Fawkes and his co-conspirators decided to take action. Long story short (and cutting out all the politics and all that), they decided to blow up the houses of Parliment and get rid of the government and King, once and for all by putting a lot of gunpowder under Parliment and blowing it up.

Except they put Guy Fawkes in charge of the job and, well, his group wasn't any Oceans 11. Some of the group were a bit upset that they'd not only be blowing up the government but also killing quite a few Catholics who were members of Parliment. So they got cold feet and warned one of the members of Parliment who proceeded to discover the plot and all the barrels of gunpowder. Problem is, they didn't tell poor Guy. Who, naturally, got caught on November 5th, 1605.

A few days of torture followed, Guy and his conspirators confessed and they were hanged, drawn and quartered For those of you who've heard the phrase and don't know what it means, well, it's not very nice. And I feel a bit bad about describing it but I will anyway so if you have a weak stomach, you can skip this part:

Basically, the victim was hung by his neck until he was almost dead. Then, before he could escape his misery, he was drawn. This means he was disembowelled and emasculated, his genitalia and entrails were then burned in front of him. Then he was quartered meaning that it was cut into four parts and beheaded. Finally, the pieces of the criminal were displayed in various places as a warning to those who might be thinking of committing treason.

Did I mention that the British have a bit of a violent past?

So, you'd think that would be the end of Mr. Fawkes. And, physically, it was. But from that point onwards, Britain has celebrated the fact that the plot failed and Parliment still stands. Nowadays, the day is most commonly known as Bonfire Night.

Bonfire night, I admit, is a bit of a strange celebration. Until recent years, children would make a "Guy", a scarecrow-like effigy of Guy Fawkes that they would push around in a wheelbarrow, pram, shopping cart, whatever wheeled-device they could find that would let their "Guy" ride around. They'd collect pennies for the "Guy" and people would donate money, supposedly based on how good the "Guy" looked. The children would then use the money to buy fireworks which they would light on Bonfire Night. Well, actually, I'd like to think that those children would actually give the fireworks to their parents who would light them.

In recent years, it is no longer legal for kids under 18 to buy fireworks. I don't know how big the "Penny for the Guy" tradition is anymore. Most of the time, even when I was little, not many people collected money from their "Guy". Instead, most kids built a "Guy"for Bonfire Night.

Bonfire Night usually consists of a feast of traditional Bonfire Night Food: Baked potatoes (known as jacket potatoes in the UK), sausages, baked beans and other hearty and homey dishes. Often the potatoes are cooked on the bonfire (side note: SO tasty). Brits gather round bonfires, throw on the effigy of "Guy" and watch him burn up. Then they have fireworks.

It's fun. I loved it when I was younger. It was exciting and I liked a good firework or two. There's nothing more fun as a kid than holding a sparkler out on a crisp, chilling November night, writing your name and smelling that acrid smell of gunpowder. I suppose it was a good way to remember that gunpowder can be used safely and effectively and didn't have to be used to blow up people.

Granted, when I write it out like this or, actually, try to explain it to people as I have in the past, it does sound a little brutal. And paganistic. And not very nice. Yet as I pointed out in my "Deer, Dexter and the Darkness Within" post, the British have always been a little, um, vicious. Back in the days of Guy Fawkes (and a couple of centuries afterwards), there was no messing around with criminals. They'd be hung or killed in whatever method was most effective in demonstrating why you DON'T cross the monarchy (and/or government). In Mr. Fawkes' case, it was drawn and quartering. I suppose it was effective, no one's tried to blow up Parliment since, at least not that I know of. It was a little brutal though. On the plus side, no one ever forgot about Guy so I suppose you could say at least he made his mark.

So, that's today's history lesson. I couldn't bring myself to talk about the election because there are enough blogs out there doing that today. Also, I'm sick of it. Congratulations, Obama. I hope you can fix everything and be magical and be a fantastic leader. And, if you're not, it's ok. Nowadays, we have ways of getting ridding of leaders without using gunpowder, treason and plot.

Just kidding. I'll let the experts analyze the results, the reasons and the hope of the Nation. Me, I'll stick to saluting this dark and awesome British Holiday. I have my jacket potatoes cooking, my sausages ready to go. I may not be able to light a bonfire but I can, at least, drink a toast to the bizarre history of the UK.

Happy Guy Fawkes Day!

Carving Pumpkins...

So, I carved my annual pumpkin last night. It's a Halloween tradition for me. Growing up in the UK, Halloween wasn't much of a holiday. In fact, aside from making paper witches out of construction paper, lolly sticks and glue, we really didn't do very much. Trick or treating wasn't allowed and so, at most, there would be halloween parties in which games like bobbing for apples was the main focus. I know, in recent years, the UK has become very influenced by the U.S. in regards to Halloween and nowadays, the traditions are similar between both the U.S. and the U.K. But, back when I was a young 'un (not too many years ago), we used to emphasis the spooky rather than the sweet taste of a bucketful of candy.

I think the reason we never cared is that on November 5th, we'd have Guy Fawkes night, a deliciously pagan holiday that I'll blog about on November 5th.

But I do remember when I was really young that I believed in Halloween. I truly believed there were witches and wizards flying around at night, that the dark, chilly night was full of ghosts and demons, all celebrating the fact that this was their night, a night in which they were allowed to be scary and crawl out of the shadows. I had an overactive imagination which, naturally, led to a lot of nightmares and having my parents leave the light on while I slept. Yet it seemed right, for Halloween. It made sense. As I got older, I stopped being quite so literal but I still let myself imagine those covens of witches, celebrating their night, Macbeth style.

So, when my siblings and I moved to the U.S., our first Halloween was a bit of an awakening. It was freezing, for a start, and so even though the kids had dressed up, they had to wear big coats over their costumes which took away from the effect, somewhat. Then they'd go beg for candy. No one ever really thought about the trick part or trick or treat. I always thought that was a shame. It was such an accepted thing that people would willingly give out candy that there was no opportunity to concentrate on the darker side of the trick or treat ritual. Ok, so there were a few kids who would toilet paper (t.p. for short) people's houses but since they did that year round, it didn't mean much. I think I saw eggs on someone's car once or twice but, again, there were quite a few mean kids in the town where I grew up and so that wasn't limited to Halloween either.

Not that I'm endorsing property damage. I don't. For the record. It's just one of those things...trick OR treat. I did trick or treat exactly once in my life and had enough of those revolting peanut butter kisses and Tootsie Rolls (which, in my opinion are nothing but Imposter Chocolate and will never, ever be real chocolate and thus they are worthless) to last me a lifetime. Everyone gave out treats, there was no need to trick. It seemed odd. It still does, a little.

So, I started my own traditions now that I'm older. I never get trick or treaters because I live in flat that has a locked entrance door. So, on Halloween or a day or two prior, depending on my schedule, I carve my pumpkin.

Last night was that night. For the first time, I actually splurged and bought a carving kit. Normally it's me, some knives and spoons and my own creativity. By the time I'm normally done carving, I have a spoon that is bent at a 90 degree angle from scooping, assorted cuts where I got a bit too enthuastic in my carving that haven't quite stopped bleeding yet and a lopsided yet well-meaning pumpkin with face of some sort. This year, armed with my kit, I was ready to go.

Before I could begin, there were other things I had to do. I always make a baked sweet potato for dinner with sausages and a vegetable on carving night. Last night, it was baked asparagus with garlic and parmesan (I'm trying to be better about cooking). After I'm done eating, I pop in "Harry Potter and the Sorceror's Stone" and begin carving.

I had lit my pumpkin spice candle. I drink pumpkin ale. Yes, I'm a bit into this pumpkin thing. Ironically enough, I don't like pumpkin pie. I do, however, like the flavour of pumpkin pie stuff. I still have yet to get my hands on the Dreyer's Pumpkin Pie ice-cream but the Baskin Robbins stuff is fantastic. Pumpkin ale is awesome.

And I carved. I used a pattern this year. I've never really done that before. I'm not sure I'd do it again. The kit supposedly had an ingenious little tool you'd roll on top of the pattern to transfer it to the pumpkin. The tool is, literally, miniscule. It's made for really, really little people, maybe the size of a smurf. My hand cramped up. I was going to carve some howling wolves but the pattern transfer thingy didn't work and I knew it'd never turn outs. I know my limits of carving skill. So I went for this weird owl-ghoul-thingy. It came out ok. It looked like the pattern. It just...lacks personality.

I should probably tell you that normally, my pumpkins represent what I'm into at the time. For three years running, I carved pumpkins that looked like Frank the Bunny from the movie Donnie Darko. Another year, it was a pumpkin that blazed the Harry Potter logo on one side, Green Day on the other. Another year, i did an evil pirate. Another year a skull and crossbones. All done, relatively, free-hand. They might have been a bit lopsided but they meant well.

This year, my pumpkin is...boring. It was almost too easy. And when it turned out, instead of what I thought was an owl, it was some weird monster with folded arms. It looked like an owl until I put the candle in the pumpkin. I'd paste a picture but due to the fact my camera has no batteries and that my cell phone camera takes pictures the size of a postage stamp, you'll have to take my word for it.

On the plus side, I did roast the seeds. I like to catch some of the flesh between the seeds, salt that and roast it. Delicious. Along with the beer and the softly scented candle, it was still a lovely, tranquil evening.

I just wish my pumpkin was less...generic. I'm debating doing another one. After all, it's Halloween tomorrow and there's still some time.

But this time, I'm not using a pattern. There's a lot to be said for the enthuiasm of creativity, even if it doesn't turn out perfectly. Using a pattern is simple but it's much for fun to go outside the lines and start carving away. Maybe I'll stick to using the tools that came with the kit though. There's a lot less blood that way.