So I called the "Welcome Wagon," a truly Canadian institution, back in September when we first moved to Squamish, because the ad in the paper said "New to town? Call us, and we will bring you free stuff." Which to me sounds like a phone-order Christmas. I like free stuff more than chocolate. I like free stuff even more if it is chocolate.

So I was walking around Wal-Mart (Yes, the boycott of Wal-Mart is over, on the grounds that the sales people at the Squamish Wal-Mart are much friendlier than those in Anchorage, and not nearly as idiotic. That and it's the closest store within walking distance of our place) trying to solve our furniture crisis (the crisis being that we don't have any) for less than $50 when my phone rang. And lo and behold, it was the "Welcome Wagon" calling to make an appointment. Disregarding the fact that in the four months since I called them I could have died from starvation since I had no one to orient me to the town and the location of its grocery stores, and the reality that I probably know Squamish better than our area's designated "Welcome Wagon" lady who hails from North Vancouver, topped with the slight guilt I felt at no longer really being a newcomer to the town, I was happy to set up an appointment for her to stop by for a visit, which would undoubtedly include the legendary "Welcome Wagon" basket of free goodies.

And did it! I am so sold on "Welcome Wagon" now, who also do baskets for newly marrieds, expecting parents, new grandparents and executive appointments, that it almost makes me want to move to a new town, have several children and get hired into upper management.

Don't get to excited, dear parents of my husband. I said almost.

Here is an abbreviated list of just some of the exciting items contained in the basket of welcome: A welcome letter from the mayor; a Mr. Clean magic eraser sponge; a Swiffer duster sample; potpourri; three pens; a bottle of water; cat treats; bean seeds; coupons for a complimentary water cooler, a free potted plant, a bottle of vitamin C and $20 worth of fish and chips; a copy of the newspaper; a jewelry polishing cloth and finally, the piece-de-resistance, a welcome letter from the local funeral home director.

I am so going to start taking more advantage of this fundamental Canadian tradition. Don't be surprised if a "Welcome Wagon" lady shows up on your own doorstep. I may have exhausted my free stuff options (or should I say, I may have worn out my ... welcome? HA! Ha. Ha ... ha...) but that doesn't mean you can't get free stuff.

One word of caution though.

You don't get to keep the basket.

Not bitter.

Not bitter. Not at all. Good thing I have the funeral home director's number.