Why am I, as a grown woman, bringing this subject to light? As an adult, I have had my feet planted solidly in the real world for a long time. Then I became a mother and my daughter grew into a teenager who reads...a lot. Lately, it's been quite a few vampire-themed books. Naturally, we added watching The Vampire Diaries on Netflix and after reading the Twilight book series, we now have the movies. We've watched Buffy The Vampire Slayer, too, and its spin-off, Angel. I just finished reading, "Abraham Lincoln, Vampire Slayer", and Rachel is reading it now. All this resulted in being surrounded by lots of neck biting and bloodsucking as a lifestyle.
Along the way, I think I began to understand some things. First, there are a variety of vampire types. Let's start with the simple things.
Some vampires can survive in sunlight with no adverse effect. In some cases, this requires an enchanted ring provided by a witch. Sometimes it's just a case of "adjusting" to the light as they age in an undead manner or simply the use of sunscreen. For some, their particular species of vampire simply doesn't even know there are vampires that can't endure sunlight. And finally, sometimes they stand out in the crowd because the sunlight makes them.....sparkle. Yes, it actually makes me cringe a little to say it.
"Hi, I'm a deadly vampire and I sparkle!" he says while doing some Broadway dance steps and using his jazz hands.
In almost every instance, there is a human love interest, so apparently not only do they want to suck our blood, but they also want to date us. One or the other, fellas, cause you can't have both.
There also seem to be good vampires and bad vampires. The good ones try to get jobs at the local blood bank or take out the area's deer and bunny population because they can't bear to be consumed by the guilt of killing everyone they date. I have a suggestion for them which would take some time to run the supply out - at least in our neighborhood. How about squirrels - especially the little varmints that eat our Halloween pumpkins every dang year!
The bad vampires, on the other hand, have no problem taking out everyone they encounter and taking slow, repeated pints from their human partners. But for some, deep down they are torn by their own viciousness; just not enough to stop. It seems they are like addicts who just can't give up "the good stuff". I'm pretty sure if my daughter suddenly started wearing scarves around her neck every day, even in the summer, I'd be checking for hickeys, at the very least.
How about the eye color? Some have red irises. This is both to indicate they are creepy human bloodsuckers and possibly so they can pass as albinos in the human world. I'm thinking I'll go with creepy human bloodsuckers.
Some have amber eyes and this eye color must repeatedly be mentioned if you write about sparkling vampires. It's some sort of rule or something.
"Brad, you have the most gorgeous amber eyes," she gushes. "The amber is so captivating but when they change from amber to black, it sort of creeps me out," she says with a shy smile on her face, demurely looking at the floor which also happens to be sort of an amber color.
Some have eyes that are totally black, with no distinction between iris and pupil or the entire visible eye is black. Some of the red and amber vamps sometimes have black eyes, too - possibly because they are hungry. Or it could be that a movie director thinks contacts that cover your entire visible eye in black is a cool looking effect. Whatever the case, you would think this would alert the humans who start dating them and that they'd count themselves lucky after surviving the first date. Alas, humans are not all that aware, apparently.
I think the most obvious hint you can get that you might be dating a vampire is when you ask his age and in giving you a triple-digit number, he doesn't smile to indicate it's a joke.
"So, how old are you, anyway?" the seventeen-year-old boy asked.
"One hundred and fifty," she answered and flipped her long, thick hair behind her shoulder. He looked at her for a moment, awaiting the cue that would tell him she was teasing.
When nothing happened, he responded, "Oh," and thought to himself, "Cougar."
Have I answered the question posed in my post title? I don't know, but the guy at my door just said he can't come in unless I invite him. **Cue spooky music**
Saturday, June 16, 2012
Wednesday, June 13, 2012
The New Look
Yeah, ummmm, I like pink. A lot. And I'm happy with this new look. Maybe I'll post more.....
Oh, and my playlist stopped working so it's gone.
Oh, and my playlist stopped working so it's gone.
Sunday, June 3, 2012
Housekeeping
My blog is a mess. Time to clean it up, change it up, adjust to the changes blogger has made that have messed up what I was so happy with initially. Oh well, a little change is good for the soul. So, I'll be making changes over the next week or so (depending on how much time I actually put in to this). I'm majorly bummed that my playlist isn't working :(
Tuesday, May 22, 2012
Orphan
When my mother passed away March 30, 2011, I became motherless and an empty place opened up in my heart and especially in my life. When my father passed away March 22, 2012, I became an orphan and the empty place grew. I suppose in time that will fill with other things as the sharp pain of missing them begins to dissipate. But for now, it is large and dark and empty, reopened from the healing that had happened over the past year at the time of my father's death.
I didn't really expect to think of myself as an orphan. But within a few days, when I was still at my sister's house in Houston, TX where my parents had lived the last few years, and they were not there to visit or hug and talk to, it began to hit home. The trunk of our family tree, formed by these two people who loved each other so deeply that nothing could separate them, had gone from sight. What was left were the branches clinging clumsily to each other, their roots pulled up as far as their eyes could see. But those roots are still there, just not where we are used to them being and if we simply continue to cling, this family will remain solid and whole.
Now that I am home, that feeling has remained. I've been so busy with work because it's tax season, that I've hardly had a chance to mourn privately. But I have had a chance to feel parentless - the feeling that is being an orphan. Of course, all of us eventually become just that; when our parents are gone from this earth and we are left alone. For some, I think the pain is sharper - those without siblings who will mourn alone, like my daughter. And my hope for her is that she is married with children when that time comes in her life so that the emptiness is not so large. And I hope her cousins will surround her, then, too.
My dad was not perfect, as none of us are, but he loved me and I, him and I know he did his best. My memories will be the ones I most want to have - those sweet moments when he said he was proud of me, supported me in my decisions, told me I was beautiful or a good person or "have it right" with my religious beliefs. That last one was when my mother died and he asked me to gather our family to pray together. We did, at her funeral and again at his.
My peace of mind comes from knowing these two people, people I was blessed to have in my life for the 50 years I did, are together after 65 years of marriage. I see them in my mind's eye walking together, holding hands, going about the Lord's work - together. This time, no separation will come between them. And I know they extend their arms to us, wrapping us - their children, grandchildren and great grandchildren - in an embrace to hold us to them and thus, to each other.
I will tell you, there have been countless times I wanted to reach for the phone to call my mom; to update her on things, tell her something interesting or funny. And so, countless times I have missed her so deeply it is hard to describe. There are times I just want to hear my dad's voice, even when he could no longer form full sentences, but more so when he could. There are a couple of books I've read I would have loved to tell him about, gotten his take on it.
It was much more difficult than I imagined it would be not being there at the time my dad passed away. So when I saw him for the first time since my mother's funeral, lying in his casket, I burst into tears. I wish I'd been able to kiss his face while it was warm and soft, while it was my daddy's face, while his soul still lingered there. But I know one day I will feel his arms around me, hear his voice speak to me again.
My dad's favorite hymn, and so the hymn we sang at both funerals, was Abide With Me, 'Tis Eventide. A couple of Sunday's ago, we sang it at church. Well, everyone else sang it. I could not hold my tears. Next time will be easier.
I miss you both so much, Mom and Dad. I feel you with me sometimes and I know we'll be together again one day. Until then, my heart sees you together as you have always been.
I didn't really expect to think of myself as an orphan. But within a few days, when I was still at my sister's house in Houston, TX where my parents had lived the last few years, and they were not there to visit or hug and talk to, it began to hit home. The trunk of our family tree, formed by these two people who loved each other so deeply that nothing could separate them, had gone from sight. What was left were the branches clinging clumsily to each other, their roots pulled up as far as their eyes could see. But those roots are still there, just not where we are used to them being and if we simply continue to cling, this family will remain solid and whole.
Now that I am home, that feeling has remained. I've been so busy with work because it's tax season, that I've hardly had a chance to mourn privately. But I have had a chance to feel parentless - the feeling that is being an orphan. Of course, all of us eventually become just that; when our parents are gone from this earth and we are left alone. For some, I think the pain is sharper - those without siblings who will mourn alone, like my daughter. And my hope for her is that she is married with children when that time comes in her life so that the emptiness is not so large. And I hope her cousins will surround her, then, too.
My dad was not perfect, as none of us are, but he loved me and I, him and I know he did his best. My memories will be the ones I most want to have - those sweet moments when he said he was proud of me, supported me in my decisions, told me I was beautiful or a good person or "have it right" with my religious beliefs. That last one was when my mother died and he asked me to gather our family to pray together. We did, at her funeral and again at his.
My peace of mind comes from knowing these two people, people I was blessed to have in my life for the 50 years I did, are together after 65 years of marriage. I see them in my mind's eye walking together, holding hands, going about the Lord's work - together. This time, no separation will come between them. And I know they extend their arms to us, wrapping us - their children, grandchildren and great grandchildren - in an embrace to hold us to them and thus, to each other.
I will tell you, there have been countless times I wanted to reach for the phone to call my mom; to update her on things, tell her something interesting or funny. And so, countless times I have missed her so deeply it is hard to describe. There are times I just want to hear my dad's voice, even when he could no longer form full sentences, but more so when he could. There are a couple of books I've read I would have loved to tell him about, gotten his take on it.
It was much more difficult than I imagined it would be not being there at the time my dad passed away. So when I saw him for the first time since my mother's funeral, lying in his casket, I burst into tears. I wish I'd been able to kiss his face while it was warm and soft, while it was my daddy's face, while his soul still lingered there. But I know one day I will feel his arms around me, hear his voice speak to me again.
My dad's favorite hymn, and so the hymn we sang at both funerals, was Abide With Me, 'Tis Eventide. A couple of Sunday's ago, we sang it at church. Well, everyone else sang it. I could not hold my tears. Next time will be easier.
I miss you both so much, Mom and Dad. I feel you with me sometimes and I know we'll be together again one day. Until then, my heart sees you together as you have always been.
Saturday, January 28, 2012
Tall Actors
They are surprisingly difficult to find. You see a lot of attractive actors but not a lot of them very tall. Well, tall for me means well over 6 feet because I'm tall myself at 5'9" - although I used to be taller until serious back problems robbed me of over 2 inches. So is this because taller means less attractive? I think not! Here's a sampling to nix that idea:
Gorgeous Hugh Jackman at 6' 2".
Matthew Fox also at 6' 2" AND also looks good wet.....
Lee Pace at 6' 3" - nice on the eyes if not slightly thick in the brow.
Tom Selleck as he looks now and in his younger, Magnum P.I. days, at 6' 3 1/2". I had a teenage crush on him (yes, teenage) and he's aging well if you ask me.
Liam Neeson at 6' 4" but maybe just attractive to those of us over....a certain age. Love his accent!
And John Corbett (remember Northern Exposure) at 6' 5" - if only he wasn't frighteningly out of touch with reality.
Of course, there are others, I'm sure, but this is my blog and I get to pick 'em today. Add yours in comments if you like.
Of course, there are others, I'm sure, but this is my blog and I get to pick 'em today. Add yours in comments if you like.
Had to Laugh
A little girl, around 6, that goes to our church was at the office yesterday with her mother. We have a couple of paintings up behind my desk of flowers. One is of flowers in a clear vase, so you can see the water level and the illusion of stems in water. She said, "Did they use clear paint so it looks like water?" It was an interesting idea and I thought it was so cute. I love the way children's minds work. But I told her they took Saran Wrap and smoothed it over the vase area, then modge-podged it on. It made her laugh because she totally wasn't going for that. Smart kid.
Thursday, January 12, 2012
Curbing
What do I mean by curbing? Perhaps, what are you curbing? Appetite? Your current way of life?
Nope, none of those. Curbing is what I call my first experience as the mother of a teen learning to drive. Oh yeah, it was that bad.
Her dad started her out, driving about an hour and a half a few days after Christmas but then left to go back on the road (trucker driver). I thought, "Shoot, I'll let the people I paid all that money to teach her." If only......
She needs more practice, I was told after her first session. She freaked out and actually had to pull over with the instructor because she was so scared. I totally sympathize with my nervous, cautious child because, well, she gets it honestly. I can't remember what kind of new driver I was. We lived in the sticks so I was driving by the time I was about 14 and a half or so. My very first driving occurred in an old red VW bug with a big rust spot in the floorboard on the driver's side. If you took a corner and it had any water near it, your leg got splashed. This sentence makes it sound like I took my corners all wrong. Well, maybe. But mostly it's because smooth, paved streets were pretty rare in our parts back then. Sometimes we had to get out and push it to get it to start again from a stop sign. But put a buck in the tank and you could drive around town all night. Of course, part of that was because gas was WAY cheap in the "olden days". So I don't really remember the part before I was able to drive. I'm a lot more nervous now than I was as a kid, though.
On to the story of the "curbing" experience. The instructor told me she was in no way ready for rush hour or downtown driving - the two next experiences with them. So we cancelled those upcoming appointments so I could practice with her. I thought a half hour or so every night (if it wasn't snowing or very icy out) would be the best way to go. I took her that very next night, pulled over to a curb in a residential area and we soon turned a corner. Now the story from her side is I freaked her out by having her turn a corner right away. Okay. Maybe. But it's not like it was her first. Thankfully the pedestrian - a middle aged woman walking home from what I suspect was a long day at work from the bus stop - had gotten about 10 to 15 feet in front of us. Rachel took the corner and....forgot to straighten out the wheel. I relatively calmly said, "Brake." No response. "Brake," I said more urgently as we went up on to the sidewalk and the tires kissed the grass. "STOP!!!!!" I yelled as we went fully on to the grass, our headlights shining on the woman's form not more than 10 feet ahead and one of those green power boxes less than 5 feet in front of us. Thankfully, from years of training, she knows when I yell, I mean business!!
I knew I must not get angry, so I quickly calmed myself and said, "Ok. Don't move until the lady gets further ahead and we have planned how to safely get out of the grass. You can do this." I'm not certain if that last sentence was for her or for me. And I'm thinking I never expected to utter the first one.
But she did safely get us out of the grass and off the curb without hitting anything!!!
Oh, happy, happy day!!
We continue to drive on, with specific instructions as we slowly took each corner, went a little too fast down slight inclines with a little leftover snow and ice on them and repeatedly stopped in the crosswalk at stop signs all over the area. There was the center of the road thing, too, but so little traffic made that less a life-threatening experience than the pedestrian issue.
Not the worst experience I've ever had. I think we have a long road ahead of us and sometimes I really wish I had someone else to do this......
Oh, and a big shout out to the jerk in the little sports car who laid on his horn when he whipped onto the street behind us from a left turn. Okay, she was going a little slow but you think maybe the repeated horn blowing slowed her even more as she freaked out, not even realizing it was a car behind us, looking from the steering wheel to me to try to understand what she'd done to make the horn blow? Yeah, nice one, Buddy. If only I were the sort to use hand signals.
Nope, none of those. Curbing is what I call my first experience as the mother of a teen learning to drive. Oh yeah, it was that bad.
Her dad started her out, driving about an hour and a half a few days after Christmas but then left to go back on the road (trucker driver). I thought, "Shoot, I'll let the people I paid all that money to teach her." If only......
She needs more practice, I was told after her first session. She freaked out and actually had to pull over with the instructor because she was so scared. I totally sympathize with my nervous, cautious child because, well, she gets it honestly. I can't remember what kind of new driver I was. We lived in the sticks so I was driving by the time I was about 14 and a half or so. My very first driving occurred in an old red VW bug with a big rust spot in the floorboard on the driver's side. If you took a corner and it had any water near it, your leg got splashed. This sentence makes it sound like I took my corners all wrong. Well, maybe. But mostly it's because smooth, paved streets were pretty rare in our parts back then. Sometimes we had to get out and push it to get it to start again from a stop sign. But put a buck in the tank and you could drive around town all night. Of course, part of that was because gas was WAY cheap in the "olden days". So I don't really remember the part before I was able to drive. I'm a lot more nervous now than I was as a kid, though.
On to the story of the "curbing" experience. The instructor told me she was in no way ready for rush hour or downtown driving - the two next experiences with them. So we cancelled those upcoming appointments so I could practice with her. I thought a half hour or so every night (if it wasn't snowing or very icy out) would be the best way to go. I took her that very next night, pulled over to a curb in a residential area and we soon turned a corner. Now the story from her side is I freaked her out by having her turn a corner right away. Okay. Maybe. But it's not like it was her first. Thankfully the pedestrian - a middle aged woman walking home from what I suspect was a long day at work from the bus stop - had gotten about 10 to 15 feet in front of us. Rachel took the corner and....forgot to straighten out the wheel. I relatively calmly said, "Brake." No response. "Brake," I said more urgently as we went up on to the sidewalk and the tires kissed the grass. "STOP!!!!!" I yelled as we went fully on to the grass, our headlights shining on the woman's form not more than 10 feet ahead and one of those green power boxes less than 5 feet in front of us. Thankfully, from years of training, she knows when I yell, I mean business!!
I knew I must not get angry, so I quickly calmed myself and said, "Ok. Don't move until the lady gets further ahead and we have planned how to safely get out of the grass. You can do this." I'm not certain if that last sentence was for her or for me. And I'm thinking I never expected to utter the first one.
But she did safely get us out of the grass and off the curb without hitting anything!!!
Oh, happy, happy day!!
We continue to drive on, with specific instructions as we slowly took each corner, went a little too fast down slight inclines with a little leftover snow and ice on them and repeatedly stopped in the crosswalk at stop signs all over the area. There was the center of the road thing, too, but so little traffic made that less a life-threatening experience than the pedestrian issue.
Not the worst experience I've ever had. I think we have a long road ahead of us and sometimes I really wish I had someone else to do this......
Oh, and a big shout out to the jerk in the little sports car who laid on his horn when he whipped onto the street behind us from a left turn. Okay, she was going a little slow but you think maybe the repeated horn blowing slowed her even more as she freaked out, not even realizing it was a car behind us, looking from the steering wheel to me to try to understand what she'd done to make the horn blow? Yeah, nice one, Buddy. If only I were the sort to use hand signals.
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