Saaaalty

I just read something which asked if a certain best selling author was dumbing down his novels.

Is the questioner for real? I really don't believe there is any room in the downward direction for this particular author to go.

I am not normally one to squash the creative efforts of anyone, but some people should not be published, much less, best selling authors. (okay, everyone should have a shot at putting themselves out there if they want to, but BLOG. Best seller? ...Wait, I'm seriously waffling here because I can think of certain specialty criminal types who should not have a shot at putting it out there. )

I had never heard of this author until someone handed me one of his books and said it was a good read.

It was not.

I read the whole thing because of that human inability to turn away from horrible things. Every page I questioned, "is this as stupid as I think this is? He doesn't really think he's setting up a plot twist, does he? I can see this whole thing coming from the first page." And then, I felt compelled to see if it really was as stupid as it seemed, or maybe he was some genius keeping me going with writing that was beyond basic and there would be a surprise payoff somewhere along the way.

Even as my brain pleaded, "this is as it seems and you are getting dumber every second you spend reading. Stop. Stop reading. Now. Stop it." But I read on to the end and it was so flat-lined I didn't even want to throw the book across the room -- I just stared at it. I was mixed between disgust and not being able to understand why this book existed.

I kind of question the aunt who gave it to me now, too. I looked up to her once, but "good read?" What's happened? what's wrong? One of the kids suck your brain out? Are you on a medication that's turned you into a dullard?

What's more, I was trying to explain the experience to my friend Brian and as I described the writing he asked, "was it J---- P--------?"

"Yes!"

I was glad for Brian in that moment, because I realized that the author didn't make me feel stupid, he made me feel crazy, out of body and separate from the human race. Brain reconnected me.

I know horrible books are published every day, but I usually just stop reading. Again, I marvel at the power this book held over me, how it compelled me to read every stupid, predictable word.

I saw an ad for this guys latest book and I thought, hey I've already seen this as a movie -- it was called Dead Calm. Ripper offer.

I left his name out, because, what if he googles himself? I'm sure he's no stranger to scathing reviews and that he reads them while sitting atop a pile of money, but still -- I don't wish the man ill will -- I just felt the need to ponder aloud.

Welcome to Animal Health Heart -- no emergancy's accepted

Midge, just another day at the office.
You would think as long as it's a slow day, maybe Midge would clean around her office a bit.
Assistant Lizzie with a patient. Assistant Winnie was waiting in the reception area and was unavailable for photo.

Note: The similarities between patient Frances and assistant Lizzie's legs.

browsing my screen saver photos

Lizzie in 2001, she was born happy. She has a few smiles, but this one -- where her top lip disappears -- she still does this and it usually reveals her inner workings are on to something funny and she is pleased with herself. Lizzie's comedy is definitely innate, when she comes up with something she works it against an inner timing and she will hold the show and start over if something isn't coming out right. When things line up we are rewarded by her gift of humor. This one always makes me think of card I have framed:

Piglet sidled up to Pooh from behind."Pooh!"he whispered.

"Yes, Piglet?"

"Nothing,"said Piglet,taking Pooh's paw.

"I just wanted to be sure of you."

I don't think Winnie was quite two in this picture. I remember this day so clear -- this picture doesn't do the moment justice. She was playing so content and the sun was streaming through the window and if she were not breath taking enough already -- the sun kissed version stopped me in my tracks and placed the moment in a retrievable part of my mind.
This is Lizzie after we returned from a weekend getaway to find our snowwoman had melted (I don't know why, but I remember her name was Vinda). Lizzie was not happy and did command her return -- Vinda didn't listen.

And, oh my gosh, with the Kelly dolls in the other hand. Lizzie has always loved all things small. She carries and stashes small things. I always wonder what goes through her mind when she looses some important tiny toy and it will turn up -- sometimes months -- later in a pocket, behind a pillow, under a barbie couch. She stashes and forgets, but when I find these items, they always seem so purposefully placed in a strange way -- I know she had a plan. Happy.

Winnie on a humid day -- oh, those curls. Shortly after this pic was taken, we cut her hair and the curls were never the same. She still has these amazing curls on the under layer of hair, but the top layer is straight -- Gemini hair for a Gemini girl.

Zombie in the family

Some of you may remember my nephew in Zombie 2: Darkness of Dead.

Well that wacky zombie is back, in yet another short film -- this time he shares the screen with a lovely Miss.

Check it out -- if you dare.

This is not normal

The dog is standing there, frozen, waiting patiently for Rich to give her a little mouth to mouth.

He puffs air, her lips flap and she seems to think that's real cool.

What if these were YOUR parents?!

finally!

I've finally written a post that is bringing in more searches than those searching for "george of the jungle porn".

Chelsea Memmel is more popular than porn -- just a little something more for her to be proud of.

But seriously, what are you people looking for? What is so great about this particular bit of porn that 18% of my blog hits come from those of you who seek to find it here?

Sorry, only a reference to a terrible kids movie here.

George of the Jungle is a KID'S SHOW -- no need to taint your minds that way. Keep your kids shows separate from your porn -- this is a basic.

Not okay.

You can't name him Miles Davis and expect anything different

My cousins' 5 year old son (and Lizzie's best bud) sings a little Van Morrison. Watch it if you think you can handle the cuteness and soul.

Chelsea Memmel is my best friend

Not really. But due to the Olympic competition today, I feel compelled to share my story of having seen her in person.

Her parents gym is a few miles down the street and my kids have been to birthday parties there. I may have seen her there, but I don't remember -- I wasn't looking. The time I do remember is when she was at "our" gym.

My girls both take gymnastic classes on and off at a local gym that has an Olympic coach and a former Olympian (from Belarus?) who is now a coach. I think there are a couple of Olympic coaches, but the one I think she was there with was Jay (can't remember his last name, but I know he's a big deal). Look up Salto gymnastics and read the coach bios if you are of the need to know variety.

I know her dad is her coach, but who knows -- can't get enough prep work in and she was there working on something and I would have never known (because so many of those kids are soooo amazing), but one of the mom's who was in the know pointed her out to me and I watched her on purpose due to the Olympic potential factoid.

I forgot all about it until I kept hearing her name associated with the Olympic team and I was like, "Why does that name sound so familiar?" and I looked her up and saw her parents own the M&M gym and I put it all together :o).

I love getting my kids going about it -- whenever she is on TV I'll say, "You guys shared the gym with her you know." And they make me tell again how that all went down. Winnie does anyway -- she's got her own rise to fame to think about and I think she is happy and feels on the right track whenever fame brushes her way in any way, shape, or form.

Pretty cool though, huh? Wonder what's in the water around here -- first the Hamm brothers, now Chelsea Memmel.

...there is that one natural spring in Dousman, hmmmmmm.

"Spray on the glittah." -- Mika

Listen, am I packing for our "camping" trip this weekend (we leave tonight)? Am I doing the laundry so my family doesn't have to go naked or dirty? Am I clearing a path so I can even get to the washing machine? Taking a shower before I meet up with the insurance adjuster? Cleaning the crap out of the car to make way for fresh crap?

No. None of these things am I doing.

Instead, I come here to profess my love for Mika.

Because he makes me dance with big expressive arm movements and wish I owned a showgirl outfit (with big, BIG tail feathers). That there is reason enough for undying love, but there's more -- things like this:

"Diet coke and a pizza please, diet coke and I'm on my knees screaming BIG GIRLS YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL..."

Or this: "...gonna pick you up like a paper cup, shake the water out of every nook, oh, Biiillaaay Brown..."

And this one: "...Everything's cool, the rent is paid, the house is clean, your bed is made, but it's a ghost town in your mind..."

And here: "You talk about life, you talk about death and everything in betwee-een -- like it's nothing and the words are easaaay...this is my interpretation and it dOOOOOn't , dooon't make sense..."


Again: "...so I smiled and tried to meeeeean iiiiit, to let myself let go...."


This one: "...How can I help it? How can I help it? How can I help what you think? Hellomybaby, hellomybaby, putting my life on the brink...gotta be green, gotta be mean, gotta be everything more -- why don't you like me? why don't you like me? Walk out the door..."


And that lollipop song .

All of it.

It's dark, it's light -- it's BIG. Makes me happy and if I were twelve I would run out and buy the latest Tiger Beat to see if there were any posters for my wall.

Thoughts only a blog could love

Or, as people like to say, "randoms".

1. I decided the number of the dork is 222. I figured if the beast has a code, then I should get one too.

Why 222?

I don't know, it just seemed right and that's what dorks do -- they pick arbitrary crap, assign a meaning, laugh because they think they think it's really really funny and then move on to the next dorky thought adventure.

222 it is.

2. A peek into my neurosis: Today I had to restrain myself from getting on the girl scout bus to talk to Winnie about her tennis shoes because I was afraid they might kill her.

You see, at day camp the kids need swim shoes if they are going to swim and they can use old tennis shoes if they don't have the swimmers. I gave Winnie a crappy pair of slide-on tennis shoes and one was ripped a little. As I walked away from the bus I started thinking about how awkward it would be to swim with tennis' on and then I thought of that ripped one falling off and of Winnie trying to save it. She's an okay swimmer, but I'm not sure about how she would do getting all panicked about losing a shoe and trying to dive after it.

So bad, I wanted to get on that bus and say, "If that shoe falls off, just let it go -- one of the PA's will help you find it -- but it's an old shoe, just let it sink."

...and then of course I have to do the thought erase so it won't really happen. Serious -- I'll have a morbid thought like that and I'll take a freaked out breath out loud and my hand flies up and erases the thought from my imaginary chalk board.

So if you ever see some lady walking and she suddenly grabs her heart and starts erasing the air -- it's probably me.

3. I love the smell of diesel fuel. Perhaps that explains my second random, but probably not -- it's not like I'm huffing it. I just love when Rich comes home and it's on his clothes -- greasy diesel smell -- yum. It's almost as good as stinky, oily boat motor smell.

For Cecily

I originally posted this on my old blog -- it was a meme -- I had certain amount of words to stay within and express my life, or something like that.
Cecily's post yesterday (July 31, 2008) made me think of it.
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I'm working the switchboard -- it's low rate hour on mother's day -- pets, husband, stepchild, other mother, children, parents and grandparents, sisters, friends, ornery neighbor, calendar days to remember, flying time and grocery stores. I am blessed beyond reason. I am broken to the core. Balance is a funny little word. Where is my village?