What my kids were talking about last week – Acceptance.
We had a full house this weekend. Most of our activities centered around no activity and just talking with each other. Most of it was fun, but some of it wasn’t.
My brother Andrew is here with his two cats. The orange cat Nimrod and a new teeny tiny black kitten he calls Josephine are tearing around my house with my two cats. Of course my calico Gloria is none too pleased about it.
It was nice to have everyone here to share the fun and relax together. It was a good way to end the holidays and start off 2015.
My eldest Garrett (a freshman) left last night to return to college. Winter quarter starts today.
We talk almost every single day and text but he is still 400 miles away. Somehow I fool myself into believing it isn’t that far since we’re still in the same state.
Once…
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Ten manly things every guy should know how to do:
Oh so true!
This post gets five out of five shining stars from West Coast Review!
Sure, this sort of list has been hashed out a million times on internet sites, in Men’s magazines and over drinks at a bar. But here’s my take on it (in no particular order):
1. Wash your own laundry:
Wash it, dry it, fold it, maybe even hang some of it up to dry so it doesn’t shrink. You don’t really need to sort it all out, that’s one of those female “myths” that’s been perpetuated for eternity. Well, except for anything red… sort that shit out or you’ll have a real problem with pink underwear. While you’re at it, learn to operate an iron. Then go wash a bunch of dishes. You might get laid.
2. Tie a tie:
I know, I know… I can already hear you saying “I don’t ever wear a tie, why should I need to know how to tie one?” Well, because you should…
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Short Story Sunday: Prisoner of Love
Just a bit of fun…
It wasn’t as if Andy had planned on being locked in a basement. No windows. It wasn’t like he’d turn into a bat because he couldn’t do that, but he could make them think he wasn’t there. Or at least he hoped that was true, considering he had no idea who had locked him away.
He thought about the Count of Monte Cristo.
How did I escape? With difficulty. How did I plan this moment? With pleasure.
But unlike Edmond Dantes, Andy didn’t have a mad priest to show him the way to treasure so that he could get revenge on his captor and win back the woman he loved.
Andy thought about the woman he loved for a bit. Did she love him? Or was she rejecting him simply because he was a Vampire and she was not? Or was he just thinking about it way too much.
It…
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The Yatton Daemoniac and 18th Century Skepticism
A throughly interesting post that will make you think.
This post gets five out of five stars from West Coast Review.
If you aren’t already following ExoterX check it out.
“On the road from the City of Skepticism, I had to pass through the Valley of Ambiguity” – Adam Smith
Epilepsy. St. Vitus’ Dance. religious mania. Shaken, not stirred.
We can all superficially agree with that most beloved of common sense skeptic maxims coined by sociologist and CSICOP (Committee for the Scientific Investigation of Claims of the Paranormal) co-founder Marcello Truzzi that “extraordinary claims require extraordinary proof”. Where we might quibble is on the interpretation of which phenomena are to be regarded as “extraordinary” and which are merely “trivial”. Were you to tell me that The Back Street Boys were artistic geniuses, I might regard that as an extraordinary statement and demand some sort of incontestable way to verify the truth of your supposition. Given, I may have a deep rooted bias towards boy bands, and to my understanding we have been led to believe that Backstreet’s back, alright, but…
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Hesse: For Trees Eyes Only
Oh so true.
“For me, trees have always been the most penetrating preachers. I revere them when they live in tribes and families, in forests and groves. And even more I revere them when they stand alone. They are like lonely persons. Not like hermits who have stolen away out of some weakness, but like great, solitary men, like Beethoven and Nietzsche. In their highest boughs the world rustles, their roots rest in infinity; but they do not lose themselves there, they struggle with all the force of their lives for one thing only: to fulfil themselves according to their own laws, to build up their own form, to represent themselves. Nothing is holier, nothing is more exemplary than a beautiful, strong tree. When a tree is cut down and reveals its naked death-wound to the sun, one can read its whole history in the luminous, inscribed disk of its trunk: in the…
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Abandoned Home for the Abandoned: Forest Haven Asylum
Welcome to Forest Haven, one of the most deadly institutions in the United States.
This asylum for the mentally ill was built not far the nation’s capital in 1925, hidden in forested acreage away from the busy city center. The campus was beautiful, however care and treatment would deteriorate rapidly as the city’s budget tightened. Understaffing issues were common, and for decades reports of resident abuse and neglect went ignored.
The District treated Forest Haven like a dark secret nobody wanted to discuss. A combination of budget cuts and lawsuits eventually forced the institution to close in 1991 after 80 years.
But before Forest Haven was shuttered, hundreds of residents died and thousands more deteriorated while enduring a horrific quality of life.
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Let Me Introduce you to a Vampire Mom…
I’m honored to have the other blog I’m involved with featured on the new blog Thought You Might Like (from DiAnne Ebejer)
Being a loyal follower of the blog Vampire Maman I can tell you this is not a blog you’ll want to miss. I thought it would be a great kick off my new blog and certainly something I think you might like. Yesterday Marla Todd aka Juliette Kings had this to say about this blog on Facebook.
“I write an odd little blog (for almost 4 years) that has gained a nice following. It is a parenting/life blog but with a weird little twist – I write it as a Vampire. I know, it sounds weird. It sort of started as a joke because when I started to blog as “Marla” nobody read my stuff. I told Charlotte that I’d change it to a parenting blog with the view-point of a Modern Vampire. Like a lot of my readers I’m not even “into” vampire stuff. It just seemed like a…
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Excuse me for a bit…I’m thinking about con-artists (and writing other crap)
It is cold today. I’m watching squirrels in the bare oak trees and humming birds. Yes, cute little red headed hummers. The darling cute little calico cat knocked over one of the humming bird feeders and it shattered after a 15 foot drop to the deck below. Sigh.
Excuse me, you came here for Vampires and paranormal romance and maybe Werewolves. Thank you for coming back to this blog time and time again. I appreciate it more than you can imagine.
This year, soon to be my fourth year of writing my odd little blog, will bring both old and new features.
The kids are getting older. I started out writing about Middle School Vampire issues and now my little fangsters are almost adults. They might be taller than me but I’m still the mom. Now things are easier but still a bit scary. It is also an exciting time.
So…
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Change, fear and new beginnings
The holidays gave me a break from the day-to-day nonsense and trouble shooting I’m frequently asked to do. I can’t tell you how nice it was to spend time with my children, husband, family and friends. Aside from a short Christmas letter from a couple of Zombie friends, all was calm and bright.
That came to an end today when I got one of those “Juliette you gotta help me out” calls.
Jeff is a man in love. He is also a Vampire. Regular people might not recognize him as a Vampire, but this sort of hipster young guy has been a successful Vampire for almost 7 years now. If I didn’t know it I’d think he’d been a Vampire for 70 years. He is comfortable in his slightly cold skin and living the life of the “undead.”
Unfortunately, like I said, Jeff is in love. He reconnected recently with…
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Conversations with… Miy Selfe (Reconstruct)
“Welcome to Conversations With… I’m Myown Man.”
“Today’s guest is Miy Selfe. Welcome, sir.”
“Hi,” Miy says quickly, quietly. “How long is this conversation? I have things to do.” Myown tweaks his face slightly. “I here you are a patriotic-type?”
Miy sits quietly then speaks, “I never said I was patriotic?” “So your anti-patriotic? Are you a hater?”
“No”
“So what is this goal you have for yourself?” “I want to make people happy. I want to do good.”
“That’s great.”
“Yeah, its so great. You would think I’d done something by now. I have not. I don’t even know why I’m here. I haven’t done and movies. I haven’t made a difference in the world.”
“Woah, now friend. Don’t you have a butt load of kids.”
“I have a few.” “Then you are making a difference everyday.” “To those children,” Miy inserted. “I see,” says Myown with a smile…
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When You Grow Old (a very short story)
Wishing you all a peaceful Christmas season with love and hope and peace. This isn’t a Christmas story but I’m sharing it – for you.
A short story:
When You Grow Old
“Who will take care of you when you get old?” I asked my brother’s caretaker Josh.
My brother Bob is 90 years old. A former screenwriter and movie producer, he lives in a modern glass and polished wood mansion on the Central Coast of California.
I’d been at Bob’s for six months.
“Your grandmother would have been 101 this year,” Bob told me. I was going to turn 101 this year, at the end of October. What Bob doesn’t know is that I am his sister Valentina. He doesn’t know I’m a vampire either. He thinks I’m a great niece who is the spitting image of his older sister who passed away in 1935.
I walked the beach in the evenings with Bob. He leaned my arm and told me about the cycles of the tide and the migration of the whales.
Arriving…
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The ride from the stranger in a red suit.
In 1988, it was Christmastime, I was getting gas.
A woman came up to me. She had a tiny little girl with that cute wonderful toddler face and big brown eyes.
She asked me if there was a Greyhound station near by. I told her the closest station was about 10 miles away.
She’d gone to Folsom Prison to visit her Uncle who worked there. He had the day off and had gone to Oakland. They’d missed each other. Her surprise visit had gone all wrong.
I didn’t know her. She was from Oakland. She was black. I was a pale white career girl with high heels and a red suit. I lived in a town where 90% of the citizens were white (except for the people in Folsom Prison.) It shouldn’t have mattered what color any of us were.
We were both nice normal young women. That is all that mattered.
I didn’t know her. I didn’t know her uncle. I was getting gas because I was going to the Greyhound station to ship a package to Los Angeles.
I gave her and the sweet toddler a ride. She started to cry. I told her that it was ok and to have a great trip.
I didn’t do anything extraordinary. I just did the right thing. I never thought about it again and never even said anything to anybody.
The daughter would be grown now. I hope they had a wonderful Christmas and that all is well. The mom seemed sweet.
That’s all.
~ MT
Short Story Sunday: Christmas Orphans (a short random tale)
A wonderful light hearted Christmas tale… no I’m not saying that with a straight face, just read it and share it with all your friends and family.
“Why do I have eyes of different colors? The brown eye is my own. The blue eye is a different story. I plucked it from the freshly dead body of a young Irish nun. She’d killed herself because she had a vision that the child she was carrying, the child of the handsome young priest, was the Antichrist.”
“Why were you there Uncle Jeff?” A young voice in a hushed whisper asked.
“Because, my dear, I was the handsome young priest. That was before the life I live now. But I still see visions of angels and of a family in a warm embrace of love, then the fires of Hell with dancing devils and…”
“JEFF. STOP IT,” I yelled. “You’re going to give them nightmares.”
I know better than to ask my crazy brother to tell Christmas stories to my children and their young cousins.
“But, Simon, the stories are…
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Christmas Cheer
A short story about Christmas cheer.
This used to be my favorite time of the year. When I see those Christmas decorations up, now, it just reminds me of the pain. She announced, on Christmas day, she was leaving me for my brother, and that she was carrying his child. Merry Christmas to me.
As I was walking around the city streets, try to get some Christmas cheer, she caught my eye. Lindsey got married, and moved away five years ago. What was she doing back? Her parents lived in Florida, and I think his died when he was little. Whatever the reason, it was nice to see a friendly face. As she got closer, something tugged at my heart.
“Hi Jake,” she put her arms around me and pulled me close.
I squeezed her tight, “How you doing? You here for Christmas?”
She stepped back from my grasp, and looked at me with a frown…
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