For a few years I have been collecting Christmas tree ornaments of the nerdy variety, decorations in the likenesses of superheroes, starship captains, and timeless doctors. I had planned on using them to transform our hefty Christmas tree into a fan wonderland at some point in the future. However, this year, earlier than the future, I ended up implementing my dorky design, although on a smaller scale.
I plan on adding more details to these trees in coming years.
Jason and I have a trio of petite Christmas trees that served as our primary evergreens when we lived in an apartment too tiny to accommodate anything larger. We hadn’t taken these out in years but Jason, unexpectedly, set them up for me this December in hopes that their blankness, like psychic paper, would inspire me to see what he wanted me to see and it did.
These skirts were easy to make using a round cake dish as a template.
Yes, I opted to give those barren saplings intergalactic and interdimensional bling. I separated the pop decorations I’ve been hoarding like gold-pressed latinum into three categories: Doctor Who, superhero, and sci-fi. Then, I loaded the trees up, giving each one a different theme. My sci-fi shrub, the littlest of the bunch, was more ornaments than branches by the time I was done with it.
My Doctor Who tree featured loads of Time Lordy stuff, including baby Weeping Angels.
I decided to make skirts to match each tree’s focus. Finding superhero and Star Trek fabric was easy but Doctor Who threads proved a bit difficult to locate. Eventually, I bought some on Spoonflower called “the doctor’s favorite things.” I used felt on the flipside of the skirts so no filler was necessary. These were a simple finishing touch for my fandom forest.
While I am by no means satisfied with my tree trinity and have plans to improve it next year, (A Weeping Angel topper is definitely in the works.) I am happy with my geeky evergreens’ shiny beginnings.
Halloween is a fantastic carnival of fear. Perhaps it’s fitting then that, for the last fifteen years, the approach of this holiday has inspired a certain mixture of dread and excitement in Jason and me. Yes, October means it’s Sabin party time and that means a lot of work. However, as tiring as it is to host, our Halloween gathering has become a diverting tradition for us and numerous of our acquaintances so it’s unlikely to ever fade into an apparition.
This year Jason and I dressed as Gatsby and Daisy Buchanan. In a surprising plot twist, Jason did not get shot at the end of the night.
Our bash was well attended again this year. Nearly eighty friends and family members joined us for an evening of gruesome gaieties. We had all the standards: crafts, a piñata, a photo studio, piles of food, games, movies, Bingo, a costume contest…you know the drill.
I ideated and Jason built this swamp using Mylar, silk plants, and fallen leaves. We were pretty happy with out completed quagmire.
I crafted a couple dozen of these adult goodie bags to distribute at our party.
The task of putting on this event was, as ever, a bit overwhelming but this time we did have a tad more help than we are accustomed to. Lee and Jacob came over one evening to give us some decorating assistance and Jacob, having not completely digested his creative juices yet, aided us a second night. That additional evening, he worked on a spooky scene in our basement for hours and was shocked at how little he accomplished in that time. Jason and I were not shocked. Such is the creeping pace of this inventive process. I’d guess that at least one guest at our shindig this year (probably one named Jacob) had some appreciation for the effort involved in our October enterprise.
Bart won first place in our costume contest with his Jareth likeness.
And, wondrously, the help continued. During our party, a number of our visitors lent a hand with the children’s games. This assistance was crucial since Jason and I have yet to figure out how to be in four places at once.
A group of skeletons commandeered our front room.
I arranged for The Mouse Trap to feed our party with their artisan grilled-cheese sandwiches.
We also had some post-revelry relief. Andrew and Simone stayed after the other guests left to help pick up the cup corpses and disemboweled food strewn about our house. Thank you!
Brett and Lauren were off to see the Wizard.
Cozy or creepy?
Even after those labors, our house was still goopier than Slimer on a lunch break. For instance, our kitchen looked like a ripper scene from an M&M’s horror picture. The floor had to be swept and mopped three times in order to properly inter the chocolate and potato chip remains smeared about. But I think the cleanup is under control now…just hours and hours of de-decorating to go and we will have all of our skeletons put away in their proper closets.
Jenn made malevolence look chic.
Foul bottles, glowing specimens, and eerie candles helped transmute our front room into a mad lab.
Our Halloween party doesn’t come about easily. It seems like perpetual preparations are required to pull it off smoothly. Could we scale back? Yes, but anything worth doing is worth doing perfect. Just ask me.
Elise and Emmit made a darling princess and frog pair.
Need a hand with your food? Don’t worry, there are plenty to go around.
Many thanks to our various helpers. You were instrumental in staving off “the institute” for another year. And thanks to everyone that joined us for our annual tribute to the terrifying. Minus you, we’d be crazy without cause.
Four Februaries have we frozen. The frigid waters of Utah Lake, sheathed in their cocoon of unyielding ice, have made their frosty siren call every year and we, like the foolish sailors of old, have willingly lunged to our soggy doom. A few weeks ago we performed that annual sacrificial plummet once more.
This gang of animals probably said too much.
I made my silly fox outfit without any sort of pattern.
This year I, yet again, created a team to participate in the Polar Plunge at Pelican Bay on Utah Lake, a benefit for the Special Olympics. As in years past, friends with more bravery than brains joined me; some for glory, some for charity, some for stupidity. Whatever the reasons, that siren song did not fall deafly on their ears but happily transported their attached feet to the water’s glacial brink.
Our digits got their moment in the spotlight.
Our team selected the theme of “What Does the Fox Say?” for our costumes this time. Because of my unfailing lack of dignity and unwavering dependability, I consented to be the fox, the focal point of our beastly band. Though not quite as popular as Super Mario Brothers were last year, our creature crew attracted quite a bit of attention, including some from a local paper that featured three pictures of us in their online article.
It takes more than a little courage to plop into a frigid lake.
Spenser Heaps of the Daily Herald captured this moment of laughter in the hot tub after our icy dip.
Yes, alongside about three hundred and fifty other lost souls, we hurtled ourselves into the icy abyss with smiles on our painted faces and no feeling in our fingers. Plunging into a frozen lake may sound like an awful annual tradition but you haven’t heard how sweetly those Sirens sing.
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