Happy to swap recipes!

DEDICATED TO THE EVIL DR. SMITH.

One of my co-workers announced that he expects as many as 140 children to visit his home tonight for Hallowe'en. 

I replied, "Really? Wow. We find that the freezer's full after just five or six - what do you do with the others?"

- Sid

Ontario 2016: Vignettes.

"Pooh, his nose stuck in a honey jar."

In front of a used media store on Danforth Avenue in Toronto.  In an odd coincidence, we'd watched the referenced episode of Star Trek: the Next Generation about a week before we left.

Missed Opportunities. 

I've been casually aware of the fact that the Merril Collection of Science Fiction, Speculation and Fantasy was located in Toronto almost since its inception in 1970, but somehow I've never managed to pay it a visit at any of the locations it has occupied over the years.  It may be based in fear of disappointment - I hope that the collection will look like this:

 

But fear that it will actually look like this:

 "What do you plan to be after the zombie apocalypse?"

Now that's planning.

The Road.

Speaking of apocalypses, film makers, take note:  this is what a highway looks like after about 50 years of neglect.*

Although, obviously, not the same movies.

The Norwood Theatre in Bracebridge, Ontario, where I saw my first commercial release movie - Star Wars Episode IV: A New Hope.  They say that Time is a river into which you cannot step twice, but honestly, based on my recollection the Norwood has exactly the same signage that it had in 1977. And I still have the multi-page glossy programme that they handed out before the movie. (As requested by studio executives, who felt that no one would understand what was going on without some sort of explanation.)

It's a little bit the worse for wear after all these years, but then, aren't we all?

- Sid

* To clarify, this isn't a criticism of Ontario's public works systems.  There are stub bits of highway scattered all over Ontario as a result of the Department of Transportation deciding to straighten out the curves on a particular piece of road.  The first hundred feet of pavement from the resulting leftovers was bulldozed, and the balance left for nature to have its way with - as above.

"Look! Up in the sky!"

Yes, it’s Superman, strange visitor from another planet who came to earth with powers and abilities far beyond those of mortal men. Superman, who can change the course of mighty rivers, bend steel in his bare hands. And who, disguised as Clark Kent, mild-mannered reporter for a great metropolitan newspaper, fights a never ending battle for truth, justice and the American way.

Introduction to Superman TV series, 1952–1958

As previously, there have been times when I've been underwhelmed by the level of Star Trek knowledge displayed by our front desk administrative staff.  Well, I'm sorry to say that things have hit a surprising new low regarding what I would consider to be the acceptable threshold of geek savviness required for the position.

Every now and then, our admin team* will get together on Friday morning and share a breakfast of McDonald's™ takeout food - McMuffins and McGriddles and so on.  When a request for orders arrived from the front desk via e-mail yesterday, I requested a Sausage McMuffin and went on with my life.

When I next passed her desk, our front desk person said, "I got yur Maccy D's e-mail - do ya not want a hash broown?" **

"Thank you, but no.  I'm trying to lose some weight, and potatoes are sort of my Kryptonite when it comes to that."

"Wot's tha', then?"

"Kryptonite?  You've never heard of Kryptonite?  The green stuff that makes Superman weak?"

"Noo, I don't know wha' tha' is."

"Well, you know that Superman is from Krypton..."

"Noo - where's tha', then?"

OH COME ON, PEOPLE!!

I can maybe make a case for not knowing the connection between Krypton and Superman, but I'd like to think that the concept of Kryptonite as a metaphor for fatal weakness is solidly embedded into popular culture.

Or perhaps it's a question of geography, and Superman is just more American than I thought. I suspect that very few people at my workplace would recognize any of the characters from 2000AD, Britain's long-running weekly comics magazine, or any of its competitors, but even so, distinctively British characters such as Judge Dredd and V have achieved some degree of international recognition. I suspect that Superman, regardless of his American origin, has a level of iconic recognition in the First World that he shares with only a few others, such as Mickey Mouse - and perhaps Snoopy.

That being said, the situation may be worse than I thought.  After all, I never actually asked if she knew who Superman was...

- Sid

* My job as designer/photographer/technical writer doesn't really classify as administrative, but since it's not really a field position either, I have honourary membership.

** The incumbent at our front desk is from England, and sounds a bit like a Dickensian street urchin.  I'll do my best to accurately depict the idiosyncratic nature of her conversational voice.

Gunpla 01: Some assembly required.

One of my only regrets from our visit to Japan last year was that I didn't invest in any sort of Mobile Suit Gundam model during our visit to the the magnificent life-sized version on Odaiba Island.

Bandai's polystyrene Gundam kits are legendary - Bandai has set the standard for modelling since the company's inception in 1950.  The initial boom in the popularity of the Gundam series is often attributed to the release of the first generation of Bandai Gunpla (Gundam plastic) models in 1980, and the current lineup of Gundam kits offers a comprehensive range of subjects, scales and levels of complexity and detail.

However, just because I missed my window of opportunity at the Diver City mall, that didn't mean that I couldn't pick up a Gundam model elsewhere.  And let's be honest: a model from the Gundam Front store would have been a great souvenir, but in practical terms, adding a thin-walled cardboard box full of fragile plastic parts to one's soft-walled checked luggage when flying back from Japan might not have been the smartest thing to do.

One of my birthday gifts this year was an Amazon™ gift card from my friend Laurie, and while browsing through the various options on the Amazon.ca website, it suddenly occurred to me to check on the availability of Gundam models. 

I was gratified to see that there was a wide selection of prices and types, and ordered a Master Grade Version 3 Gundam RX-78-2 at 1/100 scale, which works out to an assembled height of about seven and a half inches (or 18 cm).  The Master Grade models have a high level of detail and poseability, but are intended for somewhat experienced modellers - hopefully careful reading of instructions and methodical assembly will see me through.  The good news is that the Gunpla models snap together, and the parts are molded in the appropriate colour, so neither glue nor paint is required.*

I'm pleased to say that my order arrived from Japan at least a week earlier than expected.  To my astonishment, the box was packaged in nothing more than a layer of bubble wrap under transparent plastic.

I honestly can't decide if this is foolhardy or not.  It seems a bit optimistic to so blatantly advertise the contents of a package that will pass through many hands on its way to the receiver, although obviously no one in the supply chain fell prey to temptation.  Regardless, I'd like to suggest to the good people at Shop Takam that maybe an opaque wrapping of some sort might be a prudent precaution - plain brown wrapping doesn't have to be restricted to items that are rated R.

- Sid

*  Although I've seen some very interesting Youtube™ videos on how to detail and accentuate panel lines using ink washes!

Can I get an "amen" from the Hallelujah Corner?

Preach, brother.

- Sid

A book of verses underneath the bough, a loaf of bread, a jug of wine...

“Because never in my entire childhood did I feel like a child. I felt like a person all along―the same person that I am today.”

Orson Scott Card, Ender's Game

And so, at last, a sunny afternoon in Muskoka, a Coke, some hickory sticks, and a comic book.  It's been a very long time, but it's exactly the way it should be, and exactly the way it was. 

I'm ten again.

Thank you so very much, Karli.

- Sid

Ghost Story.

"Where are we staying in Muskoka again?"
"The Inn on the Falls, in Bracebridge."
"Thank you!"
(Is she going to Google it? I hope she doesn’t Google it...)
"Honey?  Why is our hotel listed on Ghostwalks.com?"

It’s a beautiful October afternoon as we pull into the parking lot of the Inn on the Falls, located in Bracebridge, Ontario. Autumn is perhaps the best time to visit Muskoka, and the leaves have just nicely started on their annual display of colour. We’re here for a couple of nights while I give Karli a quick overview of my childhood:  my parent's house, the original family settlement, the high school that I attended, and so on, along with just a general tour of the region. 

I’ve always liked the Inn on the Falls for its classic old-fashioned feel - the main building was built by stonemason John Adair in 1876, and the current owners have elected to maintain its traditional decor with antique furniture and paintings.  It's a bit worn around the edges, but it's a far more interesting location to stay at than one of the more modern hotels in the town.

Perhaps too interesting.  In addition to its other charms, the Inn on the Falls is haunted.

Popular culture has introduced a standardized set of horror tropes that are instantly recognizable, and the concept of the "poisoned hotel" is one of the standard slasher movie memes, as typified by the Bates Motel, the Overlook Hotel from The Shining, or the eponymous Hostel.  (The unfortunate typo on our reservation confirmation  - "The Maim Inn" -  sounds like an acceptable title for a new franchise for this list.)

The Inn on the Falls has been the site of a wide variety of ghostly sightings and mysterious events over its lifetime.  It's home to three ghosts, known as Bob, Sarah and Charlie,* who haunt different parts of the building, and Judge William Mahaffey, who purchased the house from Adair in 1877, has been seen walking six inches in the air over the floor of the pub.**

Radios have been known to play without even being plugged in, guests and staff have experienced cold spots in various locations around the inn, and people sleeping in Room 105 have smelled a wet dog in the night - and claimed to have felt its weight on the bed.

Fortunately, that's not the room that we have booked, but our two-level suite seems to have been designed for paranoia:  the closets extend far too far past their doors, with odd panels in them that seal inexplicable openings, and the stairwell to our bedroom is an ideal venue for glowing spectral manifestations in the middle of the night.

After checking in, we spend the rest of the day walking around town, and then visit my brother Harold and his wife Sue for dinner, returning to the inn at about ten.  It's a small business, and as such there's no front desk staff after 5:00, so we let ourselves in through the locked front door.

The Inn is completely silent. There are other cars in the lot, but the site includes a variety of outbuildings and extensions, so there may well not be anyone else staying in the main building with us. The dining room is dark, and the sitting room is lit by a single lamp in the front window.

After we go to our room, I slip downstairs to take some pictures of the foyer and the sitting room.  To my surprise, I'm a bit apprehensive, and the hair on my neck rises.  I feel as if I'm one of those movie characters who suddenly sees movement in a mirror only to turn around and see nothing behind them, nothing at all. I glance over my shoulder for a moment, then finish shooting and go back upstairs.

Oddly enough, the alarm goes off at 6:30 in the morning - eerie in the context of previous ghostly behaviour, but I'm still more likely to attribute it to previous guests than ghostly fingers.  I turn it off, and the phenomenon is not repeated - apparently ghosts do not choose to act as snooze buttons.

On the second night, Karli wakes up for a few minutes, and hears distant screaming in the night - or is it a dream?

As we pull away from the parking lot after checking out, Karli comments, "I'm looking forward to getting a good night's sleep tonight - I kept thinking about the ghosts..." 

I'm surprised by this (and a bit remorseful.) As I've said before, I'm a complete sceptic when it comes to the paranormal due to the complete lack of solid evidence.  Supernatural visits always seem to be a bit circumstantial - it's one thing to read that an employee has seen the spirit of a judge who's been dead for 104 years floating in the air over the flagstone floor, but it's not the same as showing me a picture of the magistrate on their iPhone. 

Hearing something go bump in the night is all very well and good, but I'd like to see what actually went bump.

- Sid

P.S. for more paranormal information on the Inn at the Falls, visit The Haunting Group website for the details of their investigation.

* One gathers that these are nicknames rather than the results of communication with the spirits via medium, Ouija board, or some similar means of contacting the afterlife.

** It's assumed that the judge is walking at the height of the original wood flooring which was removed during renovations at some point in time.