The Canadian holiday season: family, friends, gifts, and emus

Canada, a land frozen for ten months of the year and infested with blackflies for the other two, is very fond of its Christmas tradition. In the days leading up to Christmas, all Canadian villages are bustling with preparations for the big day. This year, I’d like to share with you the twelve days leading up to our Canadian Christmas.

12 days until Canadian Christmas

Today began at the crack of dawn as my brothers and I prepared the dog sleds for the hunt. Normally, we use six to ten dogs per sled, depending on the size of the animals we hunt. Today, we supplemented the dog team with a handful of lemurs, for our quarry is the spotted snow emu, which can grow to at least 4 metres in height and weigh about 300 kilograms. Its wingspan dwarfs a small airplane. The snow emu is a dangerous predator while in flight, and emus tend to flock together in squadrons of three or four. For safety, we hunt them at night when they’re sleeping in their burrows.

Normally the task of leading the hunt falls to the eldest son, but since my brother, Bob, moved to the village of Winterpeg, which is near the arctic circle, the task has fallen to the second eldest, Doug. My younger brother, also named Doug, has taken part in the hunt ever since he was old enough to complete the rites of ascension.

Meanwhile, at the family home in Steveston, my parents and the other villagers are building the communal feasting igloo, which is much larger than a normal igloo. When complete it will accommodate all 34 of the villagers, the fire pit, and a stage where Anne Murray will sing Snowbirds and selections from Anne Murray’s Classic Christmas. We used to have Mr. Shatner host the evening, but his rendition of I Am Canadian began to wear on us after his fourth encore. We politely suggested that he remain in California this year and enjoy a little sun on behalf of all his fellow Canucks.

Céline, on the other hand, is always welcome to our village at Christmas — her vocal talent can frighten off even the most vicious of polar bears, thus keeping Christmas safe for all.

Having loaded the sleds with supplies, Doug, Doug, and I donned our parkas and snowshoes and set out into the snowy wastes, in search of the burrows of the spotted snow emu.

The Return of the Lettuce

So there I was at the local produce shop, wandering the aisles and wondering if I should keep blogging and if I’d actually stopped blogging at all. I grabbed a couple of items, and as I stood in line at the checkout, an older woman stepped into line in front of me.

“I wish to return the lettuce,” she stated, matter-of-factly, in a thick eastern-European accent. “I have fridge full of lettuce. So I return it.”

As she ploncked the lettuce in question on the counter, a couple of stray bits fell out the open bag. I expected the shop owner to refuse, but instead she happily gave the woman her money and took back the lettuce.

I was so entranced by the exchange, that, after paying for my things, I just stood there looking at the lettuce stupidly.

“Is there something else?” the shop owner asked.

“Um. N-no,” I hesitated. “I guess this is the part where I leave the shop.”

I had no idea that produce shops had a return policy. Do they offer specials on used vegetables?

A tragic setback

Day 12: I believe it was Cicero who once declared, Ita erat quando hic adveni. And I could say that again here, wholeheartedly, albeit with my fingers crossed behind my back.

Yesterday, on my twelfth day without television, Data and Geordi finished converting my microwave into a holodeck. The results were amazing: there, inside the microwave, rotated a fully three-dimensional cup of instant noodles.

The celebrations were short-lived, however: tragically, as Geordi was attempting to interact with the cup simulation, his head burst into flames. Data’s tricorder revealed that the holographic emitters were generating massive amounts of microwave radiation.

Specifically, what Data said was, “Curious. It appears that— AAAAA!! Turn it off!! Turn it—” And then he exploded in a shower of sparks.

Funeral services for Geordi and Data will be held this afternoon at the dumpster in the alley. Be it known that they lost their socks in the line of duty.

I wonder what the Buffy-sock is up to these days? Maybe I’ll give her a call.

Disclaimer: This does not mean that I’m blogging again. I just had this one more thing to say. :)

So long…

…and thanks for all the fish.

I’ve been at this weblog since July, and I’ve had fun with it, but now I’m calling it quits. I ran out of words.

If you have been reading regularly, thanks for taking part and leaving comments! You’ll be sure to see me pop up in the comments on other people’s blogs, too.

And now I’m off to rejoin my adoptive family of penguins.

Cheerio and toodle-pip!

– S.

Ice cube stalagmites

Have you noticed these things growing in your freezer? Otherwise normal ice cubes seem to grow these inch-long spikes that come out at weird angles. It must be the freezer poltergeist. Maybe, a long time ago, someone had a tragic accident involving ice cubes, and now spends eternity haunting my freezer.

I’ll take a picture if it happens again.