Whenever I hear that verse of Silver Bells, I always imagine myself bundled up in a long coat, wearing a jaunty little hat (not unlike the one worn by Mary Steenburgen in Elf) and carrying several brown paper Macy’s shopping bags. I am standing outside of a store gazing at its Christmas window display while around me the shoppers rush home with their treasures. All at once, I am jostled by a passerby and one of my packages drops to the sidewalk. I bend down to pick it up and come face to face with the stranger, who has also bent to retrieve it. He looks alarmingly like Jude Law as he did in the movie The Holiday, his eyes- how they twinkle, his dimples how merry! When he speaks, I swear I can hear a hint of an accent, ”Drop something?” he says, his droll little mouth drawn up like a bow. I have only slightly regained my composure when Clint sidles up behind us and says “I’m so tired. Why do malls make me so tired? Where did you get that hat?” And as I turn back to thank my kind stranger, I hear him exclaim, as he walks out of sight, “Happy Christmas to all and to all a good night!”
Allow me to immediately absolve you of the illusion that I’ve been a lifelong fan of all things scary. It’s true that movies like Nightmare on Elm Street, Friday the 13th and Halloween were all the rage when I was a teen but, unfortunately for me and my street cred, I was the kid who’d leave the room at the mere mention of them. I once found myself in a situation where I was forced to watch Children of the Corn and it traumatized me for YEARS. For literal years, every time I thought about the movie, I’d get a chill that would run from the front to the back of my left shoulder. I literally have no idea how I ended up in a situation where I watched this movie, but it probably involved a boy and dear reader, it was not worth it. I’m still not into slasher flicks, mainly because I just find them a little ridiculous, but I am into psychological thrillers and have a passion for true crime that occasionally concerns my husband (but also keeps him on his toes?). Apparently, I’m only engaged if these horrible things are within the realm of possibility? I’d prefer not to look too closely at the psychology behind that, so let’s get down to business!
"Don’t you love Okotoks in the Fall? Makes me want to watch You’ve Got Mail."
Well, I guess if I’m being completely honest, I always want to watch You’ve Got Mail, but the urge is especially strong at the first hint of Fall. In a lot of ways, I’m not typically nostalgic when it comes to the 90’s. I’m not eager to revisit my grunge phase, but I do have a special place in my heart when it comes to 90’s interior and set design. Enter You’ve Got Mail and, more specifically, Meg Ryan’s apartment.