Vampires in the Basement

Lon Chaney as the Phantom

Last night I had a dream that we had a vampire living in our basement.  (We, of course, do not have a basement, but apparently the sleeping mind is not concerned with details.)  This was not the Twilight/Robert Pattinson type vampire, but more of the old school, Lon Chaney variety (think Phantom of the Opera).  I believe he even appeared in black and white, while the rest of the dream was in glorious technicolor. 

He's so dreamy..;)

The problem in the dream wasn't that the vampire was living in our basement, but that he was sneaking in his undead girlfriend.  And she was taking extended hot showers in our bathroom (apparently my subliminal brain believes the undead to be a bit chilly), therefore keeping the rightful owner (me) from using the facilities.

Next our vampire tenant invited his family over to hang out--his parents and grandparents were bats, naturally.  "Great", I thought, "now we have bats in the basement.  At least they won't be hogging the bathroom."

I awoke from this dream to the realization that I had a very full bladder.  Evidently this long and slightly weird dream was my body's way of telling me to get up and go pee.

As I thought about this dream later, I wondered if I could fit it all into a Facebook post, but decided a quick blog was needed to do it justice.  After all, a subconscious mind is a terrible thing to waste.

Too Good to Be True

I haven't written anything in quite awhile, but every time I think I should sit down and whip out something, I grow very sleepy.  Too many early mornings and not enough napping seem to be zapping my creative energy.  Maybe that's it, I thought.  Maybe I don't have anything else to say. 

But then, as if answering my cries in the wilderness (of unincorporated Snohomish county), God bequeathed unto me the miracle I'd been waiting for--infomercials.

My husband has been leaving the house by 5:30, and being the good little wifey, I've been rising early with him (that and the dogs bark incessantly after he leaves). With nothing much to do that early (I learned the hard way that my brain is not capable of work before 7am), I turn on the TV, but all that's on are infomercials .  Every time I tune into one I start out skeptical-- I don't care which aging star you hire to hawk your exercise program, I'm not buying.  (Is Chuck Norris really still alive/!)  But there's nothing else on so I sometimes pause and watch a few extra minutes--and that's when they reel me in. Cindy Crawford says the secret beautiful skin is melons grown in an undisclosed location in the south of France!  Maybe I can have rock hard abs and make a $100,000 a year from the privacy of my own home! At first they seem all smarmy, but after 10 minutes I'm a believer. How does this happen?

The Contour Ab Belt is a product that seems beyond ridiculous, like something you'd order from the back of a comic book (along with your xray glasses). This is a belt you wear around your midsection that sends electrical impulses through your muscles, thereby working your abdominal muscles for you. The pulsating belt will give me six-pack abs while I watch TV, iron, or stroll on the beach.   I noticed the fine print as it quickly flashed across the bottom of the screen, in print too minuscule for the human eye (luckily mine are bionic, or I have reading glasses...whatever).  In order to reach the results seen on TV, I would need to eat right and exercise.  Hold the phone--I thought this was the answer to my prayers!  I want to get in rock hard shape without all the fuss and muss, all for a $14.95, 30 day trial. (I noticed they never said what you pay after the 30 days--or I became too disillusioned before they got to that part.)  If I can't trust the Contour Ab Belt, who can I trust?!

The 6 Week Body Makeover promises to let you re-sculpt your body--all you have to do is draw a picture of the body you want over the body you have and you too can achieve your dreams. (Mine would include long thin legs and a curvaceous bust line)  At first I thought this was just another crazy weight loss scheme, but this one actually seems sensible.  You eat regular food and you exercise, all according to the personalized plan they sell you for six easy payments of $19.95.  I listened to the many testimonials from satisfies customers, but was disappointed by the disclaimer:  "Your results will vary depending on compliance, starting weight and other factors."  Other factors? Such as the phase of the moon or whether you break up with your boyfriend in those six weeks?  I can have my results vary for free, thank you very much.

My favorite by far is the Psychic Source.  Now I have nothing against psychics--while not a true believer, you only have to watch "Long Island Medium" to lose your skepticism.  Of course there is the problem of doing a psychic reading over the phone--what if I have static on my line?  Will they misread me and recommend the wrong lottery numbers?  This particular company promotes many types of services, from Pet Psychic ("Now hold the phone up to Fluffy's ear") to Lost Objects ("Madam Fortenza, where did I leave my keys?").  And your first call is only $10 for the first 10 minutes!  Then they flashed the disclaimer and broke my little psychic heart:  "Readings are for entertainment only."  Man, disappointed again!

In the interest of full disclosure, I will admit to once ordering something from an infomercial.  It was a Pilate's DVD that came with some sort of exercise hoop.  Unfortunately the DVD did not show any exercise routines, but only what I could look forward to if I ordered the rest of the DVD set.  And they never told me what I supposed to do with that stupid hoop.

Four Wise Men

It's Father's Day and time to remember all the wonderful dads in our lives. My ideas of  life, parenthood and happiness have been influenced by four men that I have watched in their roles of father/grandfather.  I learned a lot from each of them and count myself lucky to have had them in my life.

Roy Alvick was a first generation Norwegian American, with bright blue eyes and a quiet demeanor.  He was the father of only one son, my wonderful dad, but the grandfather to five active kids. Our grandmother was known to dominate the conversation, but if you could get Grandpa alone he always had something interesting to say.  He could always be depended on to listen closely to what his grand kids had to say, asking thoughtful questions with no sense of hurry.  Grandpa was one of the smartest men I've ever known, though most people might not know the depth of his intelligence by the lack of his words.  He was present at every important event of my life and cried at my wedding.  He lived to be 100 years old and had his wits about until the end. Grandpa taught me it's just as important to listen as it is to talk.

Grandpa Don was my mother's father.  He had a deep laugh, a big belly and smoked a pipe.  He'd spent his life working as a logger, fishing, and writing poetry.  He had three daughters (one who died as a young woman), but ended up with 11 grandchildren.  He was the pied piper of grandfathers--us grand kids would happily follow him wherever he went.  Grandpa Don used to have us pile into his old stinky truck and go up back roads, down to the waterfront of his hometown, or anywhere he needed to go that day.  Sometimes, if we were out in the country, he'd let us sit on the back tail gate, swinging our legs over the dusty road (as long as we promised not to tell Grandma or our mother).  Grandpa Don taught me that kids don't need trips to Disneyland or expensive gifts to know they're loved, they just need your presence and your attention.

My father, Bud Alvick, is indeed a man among men.  He started his career as a math teacher, moved into a position in school administration and eventually became an elementary school principal.  Dad was always a people person and had a way with kids, especially his own  We didn't have a lot of money growing up and our house was filled to the brim with five kids, two parents, a dog, and various pet rats/mice/hamsters.  Dad treated me, the youngest and probably whiniest child, as if I was something special.  He never asked me to be more like my brother, to excel at anything I didn't have a passion for, or to be anyone but who I was.  He taught me who I am is all I need to be and that the men in my life should treat me with respect and admiration.

My husband, Ed, lost his own father to cancer just months before we met.  Although I'd never had a chance to meet his dad,  I got the impression that he'd had set a pretty high standard in Ed's mind of what it meant to be a father.  Our first child was a boy followed by our older daughter three years later.  I could tell he thought this second child would be more mine than his.  He looked forward to taking our son hunting and fishing--what would he do with a little girl?  These days our two girls have their daddy wrapped around their fingers and he happily takes them wherever they ask to go.  "Hunger Games" movies and art galleries may not have been what he had in mind when he started out on the road to fatherhood, but he is happy to make the trip.  My husband has taught me that sometimes what you never expected in life turns out to be exactly what you always wanted.

Happy Father's Day, everyone!

Headlines

While scanning the online news I begin to think the writers are either National Enquirer alumni or Masters of the Obvious.  I realize the headlines for internet news sources are over exaggerated to pull you in, but sometimes they have very little to do with the actual story.  The following are some of those that caught my eye, the weird and the wonderful, the obvious and the obnoxious.


The Most Common Running Injuries And How To Avoid Them 

Well, I thought, walk.  And avoid scissors.


Kim Kardashian: I've Learned to Appreciate My Private Life 

My first thought on seeing this was:  so have millions of men on the internet, late at night, with only one hand on the keyboard.  Kim has been taking a beating lately for things she's said while being followed around day and night by a TV camera.  Apparently she announced that "Indian food is disgusting."  If you or I said this, in the circle of our friends, most would just think we don't like Indian food.  Kim announcing it on national TV was like declaring war on anyone of Indian heritage.  It was the foot-in-mouth moment we've all experienced, but then we're not being paid millions of dollars to be followed around by a TV camera.  (Wait, we're not are we?)


Gun Range Offers Children's Birthday Parties

Hmm, it beats Chuckie Cheese.


Turbulent Tykes Torture Other Travelers 

Okay, I would not have gone with the painfully awkward alliteration.   ("Weary Writer Wrings Words from Week-old Tale of Whiny Whippersnapper")  A child and his father were asked to leave a plane before take off because the child wouldn't sit in the seat belt.  This writer's solution?  Kid-free flights.  Apparently said-writer was never a child herself (or has ever had  the pleasure of traveling to Las Vegas with a bachlorette party or a group of 20-something "men" hoping to get lucky).


Star Refused to Shave Legs as a Kid

WTH???  It was Kristen Stewart and she was 13.  How is this interesting to anyone who is not a complete stalker?  But then I wondered if the real reason Bella didn't marry Jacob is because she's his long-lost werewolf sister.  Then I realize I've spent way too much time thinking about this.


10 Simple Ways to Lighten Up and Let Life Flow

AOL's Health News always has an article like this:  "5 Ways to Be Happier at Work," "Ten Easy Steps to Make Love Last, "3 Things That No One Is Interested In Reading About."  Number 10 in the actual article is  "Smile at strangers."  Umm...?!?  Smiling at strangers will undoubtedly lead to a creeper following you home, in which case you will probably not lighten up.


400,000 Toothpicks Stolen

Why would someone want 400,000 toothpicks?  I tried googling "what to do with toothpicks" and none of the listings had any more than 5 ideas (and that still leaves you with like 399, 995 toothpicks).  One use was plugging a hole in a garden hose--not very imaginative if you ask me.  Turns out this was an inside job--at the toothpick factory (?!?)--and the guy was selling them at a flea market.  Also not very imaginative (and I can't think very lucrative, unless of course you're in the martini business).


I know I spend way too much time thinking about this stuff (so you don't have to!), but I am amazed by what passes for news (or news-like articles).  A couple of these were taken from the "Weird News" listings, but most were just regular news stories.  As they say, you just can't make this shit up.

But Is It Art?

Over the weekend we took a family trip to Seattle, only about a 45 minute drive, but a place we forget is so close.  I lived in Seattle in my younger days, moving to what I think of as Rural Suburbia once I "settled down", a place where you can tell your kids to go play in the street and not be considered a bad parent.  I am as about as far from Cultural Urban Chic as you can get and still have running water.

During our jaunt to the Big City, our youngest asked that we go to the art museum.  Being the youngest, she doesn't often get a say in what we do, so I made it a point to drag my husband and reluctant teenage son along to soak up some art.  I'll admit, I felt a little out of place, a little Beverly Hillbilly-ish.  The first exhibit I saw when we walked up the stairs was this:  pieces of cardboard boxes, glued together and hanging on the wall.

I am not proud to say I burst out laughing, surprised by what they considered art.  It reminded me of the projects my kids used to create with used paper towel tubes and empty milk jugs.

This was the most head scratching display, but there were other pieces that left me wondering if I just didn't get it:  a painting done in textured white acrylic (I whispered to my daughter that it was a polar bear in a snow storm), a piece of brass with glass attached that looked like a shelf, and what resembled a large packing crate.  At this point a was feeling a little embarrassed, like they were going to find out I didn't know what any of this was supposed to be and ask me to leave (this was not helped by the antics of husband and teenage son).  But there were several things that I liked--cars hanging from the ceiling, paintings of the Pacific Northwest from the late 1800's, and a haunting troop of masked Africans that seemed frozen in time.  My daughter seemed to be enjoying herself, and they didn't have a lot of people there, so we wandered at our leisure (son and husband lagging behind), pausing at what interested us and skipping by what we didn't get. 


The Webster dictionary defines art as "the conscious use of skill and creative imagination especially in the production of aesthetic objects; also: works so produced."  But I just keep thinking about that cardboard creation.  Is something that looks like it took no more skill than a preschooler possesses, having just mastered scissors, be considered art?  In the children's book, Olivia by Ian Falconer, the title character goes to a museum and sees a painting that looks like someone flung paint at a canvas.  "I just don't get it," she says.  When I read this book to my older daughter, who was 5 at the time, she told me she  "got it"--it was leaves.  And sure enough, the picture was taken from a Jackson Pollock painting called Autumn Rhythm #30.

So, I'm thinking about art.  If cardboard and polar bears in snow storms are good enough, why not something from a few local artists in their early periods.   I like to call this exhibit "Pictures for Mommy:  A Mixed Medium Medley"

In this first work, our artist is using glitter crayons and water color paint to depict the princess at night.

This painter has a bold choice of colors at a young age (in tempera paint on butcher paper).

 And our last contributor has a solid concept of what an elephant can do.

Later we were talking about our trip to the art museum,  joking about the cardboard art.  My youngest patiently explained it wasn't just cardboard-- if we'd looked a little closer we'd have seen that there were fish and a bird and...

Oh, crud, I'd totally missed that.  My photo here doesn't show all the pieces, but the first one could be a bird and the next one does have a rabbit-like quality.  Apparently I could not see the forest for the trees, or the art work for the cardboard.

Out-classed by a grade schooler.  Again.

Questions for Kimberly

A new week, a new set of answers.  This time we hear from Kimberly, a fellow blogger who started me on my 11 questions/ 11 answers quest.  Kimberly's blog, www.kimberlyemerson.com, proclaims that reading is dangerous--it leads to thinking.  Oh yes, she has something interesting to say.

1. Favorite book from childhood?

So many to choose from! When I was little, The Monster at the End of This Book. (Grover kicks Elmo's furry red butt). When I got to chapter books, Mystery of the Musical Umbrella by Friedrick Feld. After I got a little older, most anything by Zilpha Keatley Snyder (The Egypt Game, The Famous Stanley Kidnapping Case, and especially Black and Blue Magic). Oh, and ESPECIALLY The Westing Game, by Ellen Raskin. I just read that one over again, and I'm glad to say I enjoyed it just as much as an adult.


2. TV show you're embarrassed to admit you watch?

I haven't watched it lately, but probably King of the Hill. I'm drawn to it with a mix of fascination and horror.


3. What are you reading now?

Murder on the Orient Express, by Agatha Christie. I love mysteries, and sometimes I feel the need to go back to the classics.


4. Favorite subject in school?

Drama. I love acting, and it was fun to pretend to be someone whose personality was totally different from mine (or was what I secretly wanted mine to be). Of the core classes, English. I was good at math, but it was boring.

5. Most interesting trip?

Probably my first trip to New Orleans, in my early twenties. I had no idea of all the history there. With the different food, accent, and sometimes even language, it comes the closest to being another world, while still inside my own country.

6. If you had to save one thing from a house fire, what would it be and why?

I'd save my cat first, but she's not really a thing, so I'll say my photo albums. Cliche, yes, but they are reminders of really good memories....unless of course I had some really GOOD chocolate in the house. Then I might have to re-prioritize. Good chocolate should never be wasted. (Kidding - sort of.)

7. If you could have any job, without constrictions of education or salary, what would it be?

In a perfect world, I'd get paid to do my writing. If it has to be a job that I get a salary for, I pick chocolate taster for Moonstruck Chocolates. That way, I wouldn't have to take out a third mortgage in order to buy some.

8. Weirdest memory from childhood?

I guess there was no large-item-trash pick-up in our neighborhood, because when we wanted to get rid of a lot of stuff or a big thing, we drove it to the dump. There was a Foster Freeze right near it. We didn't eat out a whole lot when I was a kid because money was tight (my parents were teachers), but we usually stopped at the Foster Freeze on the way to or coming back from the dump. So we were the only kids in town who said, "Hooray, we're going to the dump!"

9. One thing most people don't know about you?

For some reason, the sight of barnacles, on a boat or anything else, makes me nauseous. I loved the first Pirates of the Caribbean, but I could barely keep my popcorn down through 2 & 3.

For the record, I did send Kimberly 11 questions, but she only answered 9.  What, no nick name?  Kimmy or Kimber, maybe?  I do hereby christen you K-Em.  And as for how Kimberly knows me, we found each other's blogs through our mutual friend, Angela (who has yet to answer my questions and better get on it lickety-split young lady, or I'll make something up).

Thank you, Kimberly!

Eleven Questions for my Friend Greg

I asked several bloggers, friends and family eleven questions and today I got my first response from my friend, Greg.  As I warned you all, this is being posted on my blog, so nothing you don't want a potential employer, wife or mother to see!

1. Favorite book from childhood?That would have to be Dr. Seuss books in general. Don't know if I have a specific favorite, though the Grinch was way cool.

2. TV show you're embarrassed to admit you watch?

I don't watch much TV unless it's futbol. Over the years I've enjoyed watching Teletubbies, Sex & the City, Sponge Bob Squarepants, and South Park, to name a few. Of those I'd have to say Sex & the City would be most embarrassing.

3. What are you reading now?Nothing at the moment. Last read Fledgling by Octavia Butler. Soon, however, it will be Red Shirts. I pre-ordered the ebook (not from Amasauron).

4. Favorite subject in school?History.


5. Most interesting trip?Mongolia, '93.


6. If you had to save one thing from a house fire, what would it be and why?
Barring my family (in which case I'd die, because I would try to save everyone), it would be my soccer ball. Or my yoyo. The wooden one.


7. If you could have any job, without constrictions of education or salary, what would it be?
I would teach history or be a game developer/producer. If I were 18 again, it would be as an attacking midfielder for FC Barcelona.

 
8. Weirdest memory from childhood?

I was 2 or 3 and we lived in an apartment complex. I was standing at the open backdoor of a neighbor's apartment, which led to the kitchen through an entry area with closet. A woman (German with blonde hair) was offering me cookies or something. She was smiling and looked extremely friendly. Her son, who was a little older than me, was standing in the closet, hidden from his Mom's view and was also smiling at me. He liked to bite. I ran back home in fear.

 

9. One thing most people don't know about you?

An ancestor from 5 generations back was a priest on Guam who had 6 kids with his housekeeper. I guess that makes me a quarter unholy bastard.

10. Nickname?

Froggie (from Guam).

11. How do you know me?

We both worked at Elliott Bay Book Co. back in the 90s.

Thank you, Greg!  (Just so you know, you're weird childhood memory is creeping me out. And a yoyo?)

You know you want to answer my questions...C'mon, it's not hard...Greg did it...