I'm supposed to be at the station as of forty minutes ago, but this morning is something too perfect to hurry. Had the radio on in its usual two-fold mode (for background noise, and to monitor that it is indeed still on the air-- because if it isn't I sprint for the road, muttering to myself the whole way, burst through the double doors, up the stairs, into the studio, throw on the cd of emergency instrumentals, apologize breathlessly to listeners for technical difficulties, then start the litany of clicks and queries that asks DAD the smaller question,"why aren't you here?")(the bigger question, as always, being "why are we here?")(and DAD = digital audio display, so he can't really answer that).

Let's start that sentence again. I had the radio on, but turned it off to enjoy the other sounds of the moment. Snow falling, which is not so much a sound as the absence of other sounds, except when the wind sends a flurry tinkling against the window. Wind in the chimney, causing my fire to leap up and snap. A magpie tapping at the front window, leaving delicate prints on the snowy surface of the Leopold bench dad built me, and Sparklemotion's keening response. Drier in the basement. Kettle on the stove.



The inaugural KHNS Movie Night went off without too many hitches. I baked intermission cupcakes for two hours at the parents' house, because my kitchen lacks pyrex and a temperature dial on the stove, then hastily threw together a lame costume. I have such a problem with Halloween. All the elements are there for it to be my very best holiday, but it always escapes me. I should be able to take full advantage of an annual excuse to be silly and creative and incognito. Do I love to dress up? More than anything. Do I own a closet (and several large pieces of luggages and a storage unit in Portland) full of costume-y vintage, wigs, scarves, glasses, bodysuits, gloves, coats, funny shoes? Of course. Am I comfortable with scissors, and needle and thread, have I been inducted into the mysteries of duct tape, do I have spray paint, stencil-fixin's, wire, cardboard, canvas, junk? Yes, yes, yes, yes, etc. Yet every year, it's the same: a handful of half-assed ideas based on bad puns, some dithering, and then at the last minute, something to do with a lot of eye makeup. At least I've grown out of the Slutty Vampire stage. But just barely.

Zombie Grandma was dumb fun, because I asked the internets for special effects on the cheap, and came away with this: layer glue and toilet paper on your face for texture. So I slapped some precious Mod Podge over my pores and went to town. Z.G. had several gaping wounds and looked nicely worm-eaten. I scared a few kids. Success!

Seeing movies on the big screen at the Chilkat Center was just as wonderful as it was when I was little. Seeing"Citizen Kane" and "Harold and Maude" there changed my life. A few teenagers were there and some young boys, and I wondered if it was at all magical for them. Growing up without a movie theatre, you're either starved for a silver screen or you're born inured to the lack. I was the former.



"Night of the Living Dead" is so beautiful, especially in the beginning. I wish that the movie could just exist as a duet between the blonde girl and Ben for the duration, prolonging the initial anticipation and silence, the stark contrasts of light and shadow. Ben's kick-ass-ery and Barbara's convincingly shattered reality. His alert eyes, her loony lack of focus. Of course the rest of it is brilliant, but the first third is my favorite.



At intermission we realized we had forgotten to provide hot beverages. The theatre is absolutely freezing in winter. Next time, I'll tack on a little "NOW WITH HOT TEA!!" to the poster and bring in my fabulous dispenser. Cider and nog? Even if I lose lots of money in the making, I think that might have to happen.






I think we almost broke even. Which is perfect. On to the KHNS Holiday Movie Night...

I still have little studs of glue in my hairline. Here is a studly hare line (drawing):




And a doormouse in progress: