Cloisters cloisters cloisters eat eat eat.

Ah, back in the Hat after a lovely Christmas jaunt. Some of my favourite presents were three-dollar cupcakes, Atkins-friendly chili, vegetable omelettes, and the spiced chai equivalent of an all-syrup squishee -- in other words, the time I got spend with so many of my friends. Thanks for being there, everyone.

The award for most incongruous present, though, goes to my parents, for getting me a black T-shirt with a skull made out guitars front and center. You'd think they would have noticed a distinct lack of metal in my wardrobe over the last thirty years... ah, well. Now I've got something to wear to Guitar Hero parties.

And what did I get them? That's always the question that haunts me each year, as I stumble through the fog of blanket approval. This year, I took a risk and got them a board game: Carcassonne. The impression I got was that it was in the same vein as my beloved Settlers of Catan, but geared for a faster, simpler game between two people. That wasn't quite accurate, but the parents kept on talking about its different strategies and gambits long after the game has ended. That's enough for me to qualify it as a smashing success.

There's just one problem with it, though -- the scoring at the end can get slightly overwhelming, as you have to re-analyse the entire board to figure out who actually won. Mom and Dad were still a bit unsure about such matters, but I was so happy to see them actually using one of my Christmas presents, I told them that they could just take a digital picture of the board and e-mail it to me if they ever had trouble.

It now occurs to me that if they do, it might just be the first time in history that a turn-based board game has been decided by a photo finish.

Here's to hoping that all of your holidays have a finish worthy of a photo as well.

Unclean.

Ugh. I've tried to go about my normal Sunday routine, but I just can't do it. I'm burdened, nay, haunted by those awful awful things I posted this morning. If only I could take it back...

(And yes, I do realise that I can edit my own blog. But I write Labville like it's Settlers of Catan: Laid is played, and there's never enough mud.)

Anyway, I would never do such a thing to the good people of the Cypress Club, and I hope that they see it in their hearts to forgive this man, who foolishly spoke of destroying something beautiful.

Honestly, though, now that I think about it? Settlers of Catan at that table would be absolutely incredible. I'm going to have to look into that.

Cultural development.

I felt a little bit guilty after writing that last post, so I went out to see if there were any cultural deposits* the initial survey team missed...

I found a clay museum.

Huh.

Well, you have to do the best you can with what you've got, I suppose. After all, there were plenty of towns out there that had plenty of mud, and didn't do anything with it at all. And besides, if you trade all that extra mud for wood, you can easily get the two point bonus for longest road... oh, sorry. My mind, it wanders.

But, let's accentuate the positive. New Indian restaurant, dim sum and tailoring available simultaneously... oh, and last week, I found a café with a three-story waterfall inside it.

Three stories?

Sigh...sometimes it's a matter of skill, finding the hidden out-of-the-way spots. Other times, it's a matter of being blindingly obtuse, not to have noticed them earlier.


*(Technical note: I'm talking about negative-space culture here: the small percentage of our lives that isn't identical to the rest of North America. Otherwise, not only is the exercise pointless... it's kind of depressing.)