SMELLS

Canadian Christmas Candy 🍁🍬

The reigning queen of a certain galactic alliance in my universe, known only as Her Majesty, has retired to her royal winter storage quarters. She shall remain there for as long as outside temperatures are low enough to cause body parts to shrivel and bong water to freeze. Behold, a photographic portrait of Her Majesty, vested in her royal bubblewrap winter gown…

Her royal bowl is bubblewrapped separately.

I do not smoke at all during the three months out the year that Her Majesty is in recess. The lungs definitely appreciate having the time off. So this would be edible season for me. One of the great things about living in a country where legal cannabis shops are almost as common as liquor stores is that holiday-themed edibles are an actual thing. Like eggnog-flavoured chocolate…

I also got this candy cane-tinged number…

Mmm…sprinkles!

FEELS

A Pagan Ritual Your Grandma Would Like

That macabre time of year is upon us — the time when I take that pile of unwearable old clothes that’s been accumulating for the past year deep into the eerie haunted wood, where I incorporate them in a scarecrow-esque effigy for immediate sacrifice to the dying sun. Stuffed with generous handfuls of that ubiquitous dry foliage that all species deciduous have been shedding like tears…

This year’s wicker man, in the headless early stages of construction.

Part of the autumnal wicker man tradition is to attach a handwritten list somewhere on the effigy, detailing all the things one would like to lose in the coming year. Like a letter to Antisanta. For this ritual is not about gaining things one presently does not have, but about letting go of things one no longer needs. As the forest itself does in fall.  

Upon attaching the aforementioned list, it’s time to get the party started and douse the whole thing in booze. This year’s choice of rocket fuel was inspired by a certain man who currently reigns supreme as the most moronic politician in all of Canada…

The cowboy hat prevents his microscopic brain from blowing away in the chinook.

Speaking of politicians and their moronicity, we had a (highly underwhelming) federal election last month. I brought along a campaign letter I received during said election, which I never bothered to open. Mostly because I didn’t like the sanctimonious tone of the first two letters they sent me. I sensed I’d be none the wiser had I opened the third letter. But I found plenty good use for it in this haunted wood.


I always walk away from this experience feeling like my inner manitou just shed an exoskeleton. I don’t know if it’s the sacred smoke, or the way the pieces of burnt fabric flutter about like faceless dark angels in the wind high above. Or maybe it’s the spectres that always manifest themselves in the flames. Like this one, which immediately struck me as bearing an uncanny resemblance to a young Bernadette Peters…


Or this one. A phoenix rising, which for some reason looked like either a rubber chicken or one of those Instant Martians from the old Looney Tunes shorts that grew to full size when you added water.


Last but not least, there’s this image. You have to use your imagination a bit to see him, but you can vaguely make out the Cat in the Hat.


TASTE

Happy (Canadian) #Thanksgiving 🍗🧅🍠🍷🍁

What’s not to love about a holiday that’s all about stuffing your face? And maybe getting together with family. But mostly about the stuffing your face part. It’s not like (the average person) never sees their family any other day of the year.