Tag: fall

Columns

Savoring the Special + Wedding Tales

Cindy Hval

For The Spokesman-Review

As breakfasts go, on the day after Thanksgiving, it doesn’t get much better than homemade pumpkin pie with a large dollop of whipped cream.

Ditto on the day after, the day after.

“Well, that’s it until next year,” I said, as my fork slid into the last creamy bite of spiced pumpkin.

I scooped up bits of flaky pie crust and sighed.

So did Derek.

“Your pumpkin pie is so much better than store-bought,” he said. “How come you don’t make it more often?”

A valid question, since you can buy cans of Libby pumpkin year-round, and I’ve always got piecrust ingredients in the pantry.

“Pumpkin pie is only for Thanksgiving,” I replied. “Like sugar cookies, shortbread and fudge are only for Christmas.”

He sighed again and took our plates to the sink.

That conversation got me thinking. What if we had pumpkin pie every month? Or listened to Christmas music before Thanksgiving? Or enjoyed a batch of fudge in the summer?

An artificial Christmas tree could remain in your living room all year. My mom’s retirement facility does this with a small tree in their vestibule. They decorate it for the seasons – hearts in February, flowers in the spring, sunglasses in summer, etc.

But anticipating once-a-year treats and digging out holiday heirlooms to display are all part of savoring the joy of the season.

By the time you read this, there may be a few pieces of Irish cream or butter rum fudge left in our fridge, and there might be a cookie or two in the larder, but that’s it. On New Year’s Day, we invite the whole Hval clan over to devour all the Christmas treats, so we can start the New Year with a fridge filled with vegetables and other wholesome foods.

As I type, the refrain of “I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day,” plays softly from my computer speakers.

”I heard the bells on Christmas Day

Their old, familiar carols play,

And wild and sweet

The words repeat

Of peace on earth, goodwill to men!”

Now, that’s a holiday sentiment I’d like to enjoy every day of the year.

Readers share wedding party memories

In my Dec. 5 column about my wedding appearances, I invited readers to share their wedding party memories.

My friend, Jill, is batting 50/50.

“I was a maid of honor and a bridesmaid,” she said. “One of the marriages stuck – one didn’t. Both weddings were lovely, though at the rehearsal for one of them, the officiant, who was also the groom’s dad, kept warning us bridesmaids to behave ourselves on the wedding day. I don’t know what he feared we would do. We were all married and had small children at that point. We were far too tired for any crazy stunts.”

Marcia Cocking appeared in a slew of weddings. Her many roles included flower girl, Junior bridesmaid, and maid of honor. She remembers every dress she wore!

“My yellow dress with a short cape (from her first flower girl role) has been a fun dress up for my 5 granddaughters,” she wrote.

Ditto a red dress and a white brocade gown.

“As a senior in high school, I wore a deep pink dress for my brother’s wedding. The dress also made an appearance at my Senior Prom with my future husband.”

In her sixth wedding appearance, she wore a flowered, lined dress as a bridesmaid in an August afternoon garden wedding.

“It was heavy and 100+degrees,” wrote Cocking. “It was nearly unbearable, in spite of the huge blue hat to complement the dress.”

That hat has also been a hit with her granddaughters.

Retired pastor, David Sutton, offered another perspective. He estimates he’s officiated 200 nuptials and has plenty of interesting tales.

“For example, the backyard wedding where the couple had 3 dogs and the grass was not mowed or cleaned up. Folding chairs on uneven turf, an old utility table for an altar, the participants wore clean bowling shirts with matching cut-offs. The dogs got loose in the middle of the ceremony!” he wrote. “Or the Hawaiian style outdoor wedding. The couple was about to light the Unity Candle just after I said, ‘And these single flames will light the one candle that represents the love you have for each other at this very moment and will last forever.’”’

And then a gust of wind extinguished the candle.

“I was best man at two weddings, co-star in three,” wrote Tom Peacock. “None lasted but I switched up to being a photographer at weddings that have had a much better success rate. Out of 6 weddings 5 are still going, the only one that isn’t, interestingly was a peacock-themed wedding, so perhaps my personal wedding experiences somehow affected that one. If I ever get married again maybe I should have you in the mix for a better success story.”

As I said, I’m sure my flower-strewing talents can be resurrected – the bouffant hairdo not so much.

Columns

Which is scarier: A zombie or a newspaper columnist?

Cindy Hval

This post from eight years ago showed up recently in my Facebook feed.

“I’m rethinking our maiden Scarywood visit. Derek’s reading the attraction descriptions aloud, and pauses and says, ‘Oh, he’s getting punched.’ He reads some more. ‘Oh. Clowns. Yeah, they’re getting punched.’ ”

Each autumn for the past 15 years, Silverwood Theme Park visits the dark side and transforms into Scarywood Haunted Nights.

After listening to Derek’s violent reaction to the haunt descriptions, I nixed that visit. Bailing my husband out of an Idaho jail might terrify, but not in a fun way.

Years passed. My husband mellowed (I hoped), and the day that memory popped up in my newsfeed happened to be the day I’d agreed to take him to media night at the theme park.

I thought I might need some backup in case he went rogue, so his sister, Camille, and her husband, Kjell, agreed to chaperone.

Our first stop was Lindy’s Restaurant – not for the scares, for the blood. While the park provided complimentary admission, parking, food and drink were on us.

Lindy’s offered fortification in the form of a new Blood Bag cocktail. The recipe includes fruit punch, tequila, Captain Morgan’s rum, triple sec and edible glitter. It’s served in a plastic bag like the kind you see hanging from IV poles in hospitals.

Not wanting to be too “fortified,” we decided one bag per couple was plenty.

Most of Silverwood’s signature rides are open at Scarywood, including the Timber Terror with a twist – the roller coaster runs backward!

Derek, Camille and Kjell were eager to ride, but I’ve been through enough jolts recently. I was left holding the Blood Bags. You’d think my position was enviable, but I couldn’t figure out how to unlock my IV to get the liquid flowing.

In exasperation, I gave it a good squeeze which was why I was wearing most of our blood bag when my husband exited the Timber Terror.

With gruesome red spatters on my white jacket, I fit right in with the cast at the park.

From there, we decided to explore a few of the five haunts.

First up: Chuckle’s 3D Sideshow.

Donning our 3D glasses, we entered the haunted funhouse. Gingerly, we crossed a bridge through a tunnel of spinning lights. Bloody clowns jumped at us, grabbed at us, popped out of boxes and loomed around corners, gleefully terrorizing us.

Fun times!

Then we visited Scarywood’s newest attraction – The Swine.

Billed as “the dark, forgotten chapter of the story you thought you knew,” The Swine is a corn maze populated by killer pigs and an angry Pig Mama.

These piggies aren’t afraid of any wolf’s huffing and puffing. They’re armed with chainsaws and have a thirst for blood.

The sound of pigs squealing accompanied each twist and turn of the maze. Lots of laughing and shrieking ensued, some of it from the pigs, most of it from us.

The following morning, I gleefully enjoyed the bacon Derek cooked for breakfast.

Whose squealing now, little piggy?

Our favorite haunt was Blood Bayou, where cannibals lurk behind every corner and sometimes beneath the stairs. If bloody gore isn’t your thing, you might want to skip this one, but for us it offered the most jump scares (and screams) of the night.

Scarywood also features themed scare zones, including Clown Town (think Pennywise, not Ronald McDonald) and Quarantine Zone (no COVID, but lots of bitey zombies).

Haunted by a roving cast of costumed characters, these areas offer lots of up-close and personal encounters with creatures from every nightmare you’ve had.

The Toybox scare zone proved my undoing. Derek didn’t clock a clown or poke a pig – instead, I was the one who got in trouble.

While we waited to see if Camille and Kjell would survive the Panic Plunge in the dark, blank-eyed broken dolls sidled up to us and otherwise stalked us.

I’ve seen “Toy Story” too many times to be scared by creepy dolls, so when a ghoulish gal approached me, I casually, said, “Boo!”

Mutely, she slowly shook her head and wagged a finger at me.

Seconds later a security guard approached and said, “You’re not allowed to scare the actors.”

I gulped and nodded.

While Derek gleefully chortled at my mortification, I mumbled, “She started it.”

Sure, there were crazed clowns, killer pigs and cranky cannibals, but apparently, one of the scariest things at Scarywood on opening night was a newspaper columnist saying, “Boo!”

Scarywood tickets are only available online. For dates, times and ticket information visit scarywoodhaunt.com.

Columns

Like the seasons, decorations come and go

Cindy Hval

It started small.

Several years ago, Mom was downsizing her autumn decorations and gave me a wicker cornucopia and a figurine of a Pilgrim woman carrying a basket of produce on one arm and a pumpkin in the other.

“I don’t know what happened to her Pilgrim husband,” she said. “I’ve been looking everywhere, but I think she’s been widowed.”

My Mom was a serial seasonal decorator. From pilgrims and pumpkins in the fall, to angels, candles and a Christmas village in the winter, followed by roses and greenery in the spring, she marked the change of seasons with change in household decor.

I, on the other hand, confined my home embellishments to decking the halls at Christmas.

That also started out small: a crèche, a nativity calendar, some stockings and of course, a tree.

Those few homey decorations somehow evolved into many large red and green plastic totes filled with wall hangings, wreaths, framed art, pillows, candles and a multitude of heavenly hosts.

Holiday fever spread to my kitchen and dining room with Christmas dishes, stemware, towels and serving pieces.

Then my husband and our youngest son caught the contagion, and now sometime after Thanksgiving, our lawn will be filled with lighted deer, candy canes, a nativity and angels.

I do have some self-restraint. I drew the line at a toilet paper holder that plays Jingle Bells. And even though the Santa bathroom set complete with a chimney on the tank cover tempted, I resisted. I mean, he already knows when I’m sleeping and knows when I’m awake; he doesn’t need to know anything else.

So, I should have known better when I adopted Mom’s harvest decorations. They looked lonely perched atop the piano.

We took the kids to Green Bluff, and I bought a few little pumpkins and corncobs. Then I added a couple vases Sam had made in elementary school. I really liked the autumn look, but the trim still seemed sparse.

Derek suggested we visit Hobby Lobby – a suggestion he has come to regret. For one thing, he didn’t really think I’d go. I have a deep-seated aversion to any type of craft or fabric store.

“They have home decorating stuff,” he said.

What he really meant is they had some cool outdoor decorations for the garden and his shed.

But he was right about the home decor. I browsed the harvest-themed shelves with Thanksgiving in my heart and picked out a few items.

Then I went back later and picked out a few more.

By now my eyes had been opened, and it seemed like every store I visited had some kind of autumn trim. Coasters, candy dishes, tablecloths, lighted garlands. Before I knew it, I’d somehow amassed a bin full of fall decorations, and there was more fall foliage inside our house than outside.

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When I added a welcome mat and a couple outdoor “Welcome Autumn” signs, I felt I’d tied the theme together and vowed not to add anything else.

So far, so good.

Last year Mom moved to a retirement facility, and the transition was difficult. She spent her entire life turning houses into homes as she followed my dad’s Air Force career. Moving from a four-bedroom, two-bath home to an apartment was quite a change. But she rallied, and last week I thought it might be nice to add a few fall touches to her new place.

Of course, this required a quick trip to Hobby Lobby, but I wasn’t distracted in my mission and just picked out a couple of small things for Mom.

She was delighted and asked if I was still using the decorations she’d given me.

“Do you still have the Pilgrim lady?” she asked. “Did you ever find her a husband?”

“No, she’s still unattached,” I replied.

I’m not buying anymore decorations. I really mean it. But don’t you think that poor Pilgrim has been single long enough?

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