This is actually quite delightful.
Last year while out running, avoiding the ice-covered sidewalks of our usual routes, we took a turn through a side pathway, into a neighbourhood not far from where we would have otherwise travelled, and… there was a Griswold house.
You’ve seen the movie, right? Chevy Chase, as the bumbling Clarke Griswold hosts his slapstick family holiday gathering, terrorizes his yuppie neighbours, tolerates his red neck cousin-in-law, avoids throttling his mother-in-law, and of course, decorates his home in a visible-from-orbit display of holiday lighting that has become the yardstick by which all future lighting displays will ever be measured.
We found someone who is competing for the local title.
He’s put up his display again this year, and on our way home from some holiday shopping we drove the you-just-gotta-know-it route to find this house.
“You need to see this house.” I told Karin.
“No… you just can’t understand how many lights this guy has up until you see it.”
“No… it’s brilliant, awesome and insane all in one.”
Afterwards in the car: “Okay, you were right.” She says. “That was pretty awesome.”
One house. Sixty-five thousand lights. Music. Characters. And a power bill that no one will envy in January. Many props to this guy, whoever you are: you’re making this crazy world a little bit more magical.