West Coast Review

You’re the warm summer breeze against my skin. You’re a warm embrace on a cold winter night. You’re the hot in my chocolate. You’re the key to my lock. You’re the one who knows the punch line.

Half the traffic on this blog comes from ONE post. It is called “How to Respond to a Love Letter.”

If you look up “How to respond to a love letter” on google you’ll be directed to THIS blog, Vampiremaman.com

Everyone loves the idea of love letters(admit it – I know you do.)The reason I’m with my husband is because I took a chance and wrote him a letter.

I’ve written a lot about love letters and romance. I want everyone to be in love as much as I am so I’m sending along a few helpful hints about writing that perfect love letter. Of course the most perfect letter is…

A few nights ago we had friends for dinner. Let me reword that. We dined with good friends of ours. It was two couples we’re friends with (they’re regular humans who don’t know we’re Vampires). It is a dress up affair. We have cocktails; take in the theater or a concert, then have dinner and more drinks. And my darling husband Teddy and I get a little blood donation and leave our hosts feeling warm and fuzzy and full of holiday cheer.

I wore a black dress with red heels. It was set off with a gold necklace of delicate flowers with red garnets, enameled holly leaves and seed pearls.

One of my friends commented “You wear that beautiful necklace every year. There must be a story behind it.”

“Teddy gave me this on our first Christmas together. It was his mother’s.” I told everyone the truth, but didn’t tell…

Dear Diary,

It is the time of year for tradition and feasts. It is a time of celebrations and gatherings. It is a time for stories told over and over.

When I was a child, at Yuletide I would ask to be told the story of TheWerewolf Billig Shooshow and the Three Demons.

Billig Shooshow was a large man with golden brown eyes, and dark glossy hair. He was a powerful and a wealthy man, but because of his greed and cunning he knew nothing of love or the comforts of friends and family. Billig Shooshow was also a lone Werewolf – one who did not run with a pack.

One night while he was alone in his mansion a ghost flew through Billig Shooshow’s window. It was a large half man, half wolf covered in large traps like jaws of steel.

The ghost howled, “These are the traps that caught…

No cemeteries are allowed in San Francisco. The town of Colma has become the official cemetery spot and now hosts over a million graves. The photos are from The Italian Cemetery, Cypress Lawn, and a pet cemetery.

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman

Children’s Area Italian Cemetery, Colma, CA

Dark Politics

I’d dined with The Prime Minister of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, alone. It had been a private affair with only the two of us. I’d acquired signatures, state secrets, just the right amount of English blood, and enough charm to last me a while. He came away from it feeling quite satisfied with himself, though a little pale.

Heading to my private quarters I was stopped cold in my tracks. There he was, at the end of the hall.

“Well, this is random.” I said to the familiar apparition.

“I have been waiting for you madam.”

“I never imagined you’d stoop so low as to be a ghost.”

He smiled. “I never imagined you’d stoop so low as to be president.”

I smiled back. “The first woman president. I bet you never thought you’d see that in your lifetime.”

“I’m dead my dear…

Cat on Mars

Dear Diary,

Satellite radio. I did not know it was from the sky, from space, from out in moon and stars. I was under the impression that the name was like all other product names – just something that sounds unrelated and like only a simple-minded fool would pretend to know what it was. Today I find out that satellites, small machines circle the earth and send down music. What magic is this? Now I feel like the dimple minded fool, only I am not a simple-minded fool. Just a fool from another time. When one is locked in a crypt for three hundred years … no, it is not just the three hundred years, it is the last hundred and fifty years that have completely confused me.

I only within the last year understood the concept of telephone, television, and the Internet. I do not even…

Had You Stayed The Way You Were

Had you stayed the way you were

The night would have seemed brighter

The day would have seemed longer

The stars dimmer

_______________

Had you stayed the way you were

Another would have loved you

As tradition required

Married and content

Yearning for more

_____________________

Had you stayed the way you were

I would have loved

Someone in the shadows

Who could never have kept

My passion alive

_____________________

Had you stayed the way your were

You would just be a memory

An old photo for me to treasure

A dried carnation wrapped in lace

_____________________

Had you stayed the way you were

I would have loved you

A hundred years ago

And now you’d be a ghost

In my heart alone

___________________

Had you stayed the way you were

I wouldn’t feel

Your kiss so cold

With the passion of ice

And…

Halloween is around the corner. Aside from the election and toxic clown sightings (same thing), there are strange things in the air. Werewolves, Ghosts, Witches, and all sorts of folks come to mind. Some we know, and some will remain mysteries. It make me think of this post from 2014. 

Strange Strangers on a Full Moon Night

Mars was exceptionally bright in the sky last night. The moon was less than full but still exceptionally bright.

This morning I dropped the kids off to school. Garret’s car is in the shop so mom gets to drive. Anyway, I drop them off behind some temporary classrooms (that have been there for 45 years) because Clara doesn’t want to have to walk by the large group of “Stoners” who hang out every morning at the logical drop off point. So this morning she tells me she over heard one of the Stoners…

My short dress is not an invitation. It’s not a political statement. it’s not feminist; it’s not slutty.

I’m not even sure it’s fashionable.

My short dress is one of the only dresses I own. I’m not a ‘dresses’ kind of girl. I prefer jeans and rock tees and clothes that align my outside with my inside. My clothes are wearable art.

My short dress is perfectly comfy. It’s made of the softest fabric ever. It’s loose and flowy and billows out in a way that allows me to eat and drink whatever I want and never feel constricted. My short dress feels like FREEDOM.

My short dress is black, like most of my clothing. It’s not body conscious enough to be considered sexy nor frou frou enough to be considered a sundress. It’s kind of rock and roll and kind of funky and hard to categorize. Like me.

My…