Harried Christmas

While the Christmas fever has certainly infected the Pyggy household (tree, dodgy dog-mauled decorations), the diagnosis has revealed only a low grade sickness at best. The tree lights haven’t been plugged in for several days, the high-quality Santa doll is still in the attic and many presents are wrapped only in duct tape or sit in their original Amazon packaging. The Christmas tree itself has even given up and doesn’t bother drinking any of its water.

Meh.

Two more days and it’s on the curb anyway. (Oh, in an idea stolen wholesale from Ready Made this month… put in add in the paper saying you are collecting old Christmas trees for an art project and people wanting to help can just leave them in the front yard. Then put someone else’s address in the ad. And since I only know person who has a front yard… I hope the GP has a mulcher out back.)

Some Iowa relatives were visiting earlier this month and wondered why there weren’t any front yard displays in our neighborhood. (Or giant, classy Wal-mart Santas anywhere in the whole county, for that matter.) The condo association has put the kibosh on any sort of that nonsense and most people around the hood seem to be playing along. That’s why I was surprised to see this.



Since each block has its own rules and committee president, I have to assume this guy is either on the board or slipped some gelt chocolate coins into some faux-chinchilla lined pockets.

In all reality though, in the history of holiday displays this really isn’t a big deal. Every town has that one house that’s all done up, overboard with plastic Santas and Rudolphs and Frosties. Miller Light has even paid that guy who synched his lights in Ohio with a low powered radio frequency to be in their commercials. (Rumor has it that there is one of these somewhere in Springfield, but I can’t find an address)

Which all brings me to Quebec Street in Arlington.



This house has been a Pyggy favorite for a few years and seems to get more complicated every Christmas. (I don’t remember an inflatable penguin from last time) But the love for this enormity isn’t borne from the enjoyment of seeing little kid’s faces light up at the sight of a smoke spewing Thomas the Train when their parents slowly drive by. Even though that’s real nice.

It’s more based on seeing the terror in the Governess’ eyes as her brain tries to separate the vision of moving plastic figurines from her concept of humanity. For example…


Hello girls and boys! I’m terrifying!

The G hates these horrid moving things and they haunt her throughout the month of December. And it’s not merely human or elf based effigies, as there is a set of moving deer in the neighborhood that has caused her to slowly take step backwards. (The dog is scared of them too, making me the bravest species in the house.) And the Quebec House has dozens.

There’s this little shed…



Featuring this little boy repeatidly drawing his deadly, mechanical bow...



This was the one that sent The G scuttling back to the car after a few minutes of susceptible and unguarded exploration on foot. I have to admit, though, in a lesser moment I can see this doll jumping out of the display ninja-Pinocchio style and slashing me with his bow/blade.

Hmm, maybe it is time to go.

So long crazy house! Your giant plastic figures with curiously sex doll-posed faces will have to wait another year to capture us with your black Christmas magic!



...we’re off to bask in the glow of the relatively pathetic display put on by your neighbor...


Less bright = less fright.