Bazaar-o-Rama is back for another titillating edition! Every November, I scour church Christmas bazaars in search of the weird and wonderful and share all my treasures with you, dear reader.
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A couple of years ago, I was on CBC Radio’s The Next Chapter, talking about what I thought would be the new book trends. Cut-up party cakes was one of them. Apparently, the rest of the world still needs to catch on.
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Recently I went to New York City and learned a few things. When riding in a taxi, never look out the windshield to see what the driver is doing.
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Ever since I received a cookie letter press a couple of Christmases ago, I’ve been a bit obsessed with inscribing inspirational messages on cookies. See my Fuck Cookies as an example.
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I recently hosted my annual Caker Christmas potluck party. I ask Italians to make Anglo Saxon dishes like casseroles and things saturated with Cool Whip. As you can imagine, it’s a real rollercoaster of tastes.
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Every November, I embark on Bazaar-o-Rama, my annual tour of church bazaars. If you haven’t been to a bazaar, you’re missing out.
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A few months ago, I was in a charity bowl-a-thon. Bowling is the only sport I’ve ever been good at because it involves minimal physical activity and there’s a snack bar within arm’s reach.
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I’m a big believer in emotional eating. Do you come home at the end of the day and want nothing more than to work your way through a container of Duncan Hines Whipped Vanilla Frosting? Go right ahead.
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I grabbed a set of Tupperware cookie cutters when we moved my mom out of the family home a number of years ago. She kept them in an old Ziploc bag. They’re a seasonal set, made for birthdays, Christmas, Halloween, etc.
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Saturday mornings throughout November, I roll out of bed early, put on my Tilley hat, fire up the Chevette and head out to Christmas bazaars. If you’ve never been to a bazaar, you’re missing out on one of life’s richest experiences.
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Every couple of years, I go in search of a new lunch bag. It’s a horrific, painful and depressing journey. I don’t want polka dots or stripes or superheroes or anything that I’d be embarrassed to carry while reading my V.C. Andrews novels on the subway.
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