Lost in Transylvania

Saturday evening's event, Lost in Transylvania, took place at the restaurant of Luigi Van Helsing, believed to be a somewhat distant cousin of the noted vampire hunter from Bram Stoker's novel, Dracula. Once again, the gothic, macabre ambiance was expertly created by Lynne of Insomniac's Attic. Chilling, very chilling indeed!

First, we enjoyed a signature cocktail of vodka and cranberry juice, complete with a skelly arm stir-stick and an eyeball hidden deep in its bloody depths. Mmmmm, delicious! I drank mine and My Rare One's, since she was the designated broomstick driver.

The rather unnerving eyeball was a lychee fruit stuffed with a couple of blueberries for an iris. Its smooth but chewy texture is as close to a real eyeball as I ever want to get.

Luigi and his staff produced a wonderful buffet upon which we ghouls, witches, vampires, gypsies and cowboys (well, this is Alberta, you know!) feasted long into the night --

Here's a tantalizing taste of the very stylish table decor --

My Rare One and I had toyed with the idea of bringing along our squeaky rubber rats, Cardinal Ratzinger and Archbishop Fang, but ultimately decided to leave them at home so we wouldn't have to babysit them all evening. As it turned out, I was delighted to have the little rat skeleton to play with instead! And hey, do you like my bracelet?

Now, you know I don't post current, identifiable photos of me on this blog. But I'm making an exception in this post so you can see more of Lynne's wonderfully spooky decor! Yes, the waving witch at the end of the table is me, my face only partially obscured by the black mourning veil of my hat.

And oh, what the hell, here's a couple more revealing photos! First of all, this is Lynne in her gorgeous Victorian mourning dress (which she sewed using an antique pattern), along with My Rare One and me --

And next, here's our "Photo Booth Coffin" shot! My Rare One clearly has not had much practice praying, judging from her awkward hand positioning. Oh, wait a minute . . . it just occurred to me that perhaps she's not praying for my immortal soul after all, but is instead tenting her fingers while chortling "EX-cellent" like Mr Burns on The Simpsons. Well, that puts a different light on things, doesn't it? D'oh!

[Photos #1, #2, #4, #5 and #6 © My Rare One, October 2017; photo #3 by Insomniac's Attic; I'm not sure who took Photos #7 and #8 but thank you for doing so!]