Showing posts with label Hogfather. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Hogfather. Show all posts

Wednesday, December 29, 2010

Have you been naughty, or nice?

Hogswatch is coming, the pigs are getting fat …




Yes, it's that time of year, when you hear the scraping of sleigh runners and the prancing of 
16 tiny hooves on your rooftop, when the fellow in the red robe comes down your chimney 
with his HO HO HO, a time to be jolly, with mistletoe and holly and -- other things ending 
in olly. That can only mean one thing: It's time for the annual reading of Terry Pratchett's 
Hogfather!


It's Hogswatch Eve, and the Hogfather has gone missing under mysterious circumstances. 
Paid assassin, Mr. Teatime (pronounced Te-ah teem-eh) and a band of petty thieves are 
messing with the beliefs of the world's children, leaving an inconvenient surplus of belief 
elsewhere -- especially at the Unseen University in Ankh-Morpork. Someone has to step in 
to save Hogswatch so that the sun will continue to rise each day, and that someone is … 
Death? HO HO HO. Also featuring the Verucca Gnome and the Oh God of Hangovers.


Another delectable offering in the Discworld series, Hogfather manages to poke fun at 
everything associated with holidays while honoring the underpinnings of tradition. A story 
with many twists, turns, and seemingly loose ends, but in the end you are richly rewarded. 
Pratchett's books may seem light and insignificant, but they offer so much food for thought. 
Honestly, what are you waiting for? HO HO HO, Happy Hogswatch!

Friday, December 25, 2009

Now bring in the figgy pudding!

Photo by Ed Feeny

Best wishes to everyone this Christmas morning. The stockings are hung by the chimney (but actually by the windows because we don't have a fireplace) with care, and just waiting for the [not-so-small] humans to wake up. The Hogfather needed hip-waders to get here last night instead of a sleigh. Rain, rain, rain. It looks like sledding is not on the horizon for today. (And my first ever annual Christmas Eve wienie roast in the backyard was rained out too.) The dog has been up, out, fed, and has gone back to bed -- probably curled up in my spot with her head on my pillow. I am making cinnamon rolls for breakfast in a fit of Martha Stewartage, but I fear my yeasty-beasties may be too old as the dough doesn't seem to be rising very fast. Determined to be cheerful today if not happy, come what may.

Merry Christmas!