My Deadly Sins

Greed:	Very Low
Gluttony:	Low
Wrath:	Low
Sloth:	Low
Envy:	Very Low
Lust:	Very Low
Pride:	Very Low

The Seven Deadly Sins Quiz on 4degreez.com

Ow!

Okay. Well, I didn't really like the look with the funky colors. And I wasn't so sure I liked the black crap going down my face. And after waking up this morning with puffy and extremely tender skin beneath my eyes, after wearing that black crap for what, half an hour?, it's obvious that I'm not going to be going with that look.

So----back to the drawing board.

Playing with Makeup

I look absolutely ghastly in these photos, and that honestly wasn't the intention. I should've smiled. Maybe that would have helped. And my hair wasn't styled until near the end of my playtime, so having normalish hair with seriously abnormal makeup probably didn't help matters either.

The ones with that show my full face are too ghastly to post. I've got to play some more with the make-up and hair. But I'll finish you off with a fine shot of the back of my hair after M-A and V finished playing with it.

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No, I won't. On second thought, that photo looks pretty awful as well. I'm way better-looking than you can tell from my photographs. (Or else I'm extremely delusional!) But I look at these pictures and I look so damned ugly in them that it makes me want to kick something. Do I really look that awful?

I know. You're going to say that there's no way to tell unless I post the photos. Well, ain't happening. But maybe when I get new batteries for my camera, and I'm dressed and made-up normally (no stage makeup), I'll get S. or L. or someone to take my picture. And I'll smile. But if that picture makes me look as--I was going to say homely, but downright ugly is closer to what I feel about them--unappealing as the pictures I took tonight, trust me--no one's going to see them!

100 Books

I stole this from Amanda. But she seems really nice, so I highly doubt she'll mind. Yes, I have done a few memes lately. It's because I'm a little hyper right now, and my mind's doing 50 things at once. Somehow this seems to help it slow down, at least for a moment or two. Yes, I have ADD; you've asked me that before.

OFFICIAL INSTRUCTIONS: Bold the ones you've read, italicize the ones you want to read, make the ones you wouldn't touch with a 10 foot pole tiny, put a + in front of the ones on your bookshelf, and put an * by the ones you've never heard of. (Note that the instructions I saw were to make the ones you wouldn't touch with a 10 foot pole red, but I don't know how to do that. So I made them tiny. Because I don't want to read them anyway, I crush them beneath my feet. Much like the fear demon in the Buffy Season 4 Halloween episode.)

And, because it's me and I can't resist, there will be comments. Be prepared.

1. The Da Vinci Code (Dan Brown). The book was better than the movie. That's not saying much.
2. Angels and Demons (Dan Brown). I actually thought this one was better than Da Vinci Code.
3. +Pride and Prejudice (Jane Austen). What's not to love about this one? I've read it many times.
4. +To Kill A Mockingbird (Harper Lee). Another one I've read many times. I wanted to be Scout when I was younger. I think I wanted Atticus for my father, but I'm happy with my own dads.
5. +Gone With The Wind (Margaret Mitchell). I'll never forget the first time I read this book. I think I was 11 or 12, and was sitting in the waiting room at the doctor's office when I finally finished it. I closed the book and said something to the effect that there would never be another book that good. Hey! I was young then, okay? Gimme a break! It is a good book, but I loathe most of the characters in it, so I don't read it very often anymore.
6. +The Hobbit (J.R.R. Tolkien)
7. +The Lord of the Rings: Return of the King (J.R.R. Tolkien). This is where I decided I didn't want to read LOTR anymore. And frankly, had it not been for Peter Jackson, I'm not sure I'd have managed to wade my way through the first two LOTR books!
8. +The Lord of the Rings: Fellowship of the Ring (J.R.R. Tolkien)
9. +The Lord of the Rings: Two Towers (J.R.R. Tolkien)
10. +Anne of Green Gables (L.M. Montgomery). Another person I wanted to be while I was growing up. I never had any doubt as to her existence.
11. Outlander (Diana Gabaldon)
12. *A Fine Balance (Rohinton Mistry)
13. + Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire (J.K. Rowling). I've read these books more than any other book on this list save one. Keep reading if you want to know which!
14. + Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix (J.K. Rowling)
15. + Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone (J.K. Rowling)
16. + Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets (J.K. Rowling)
17. + Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban (J.K. Rowling)
18. A Prayer for Owen Meany (John Irving)
19. Memoirs of a Geisha (Arthur Golden)
20. Fall on Your Knees (Ann-Marie MacDonald)
21. The Stand (Stephen King)
22. +Jane Eyre (Charlotte Bronte). This is the one. I could not even begin to tell you how many times I've read this book. It's the book that I may go months without reading, but if I wake up at 2:30 a.m. and want it, I have to have it right then. I love this book.
23. +The Catcher in the Rye (J.D. Salinger)
24. +Little Women (Louisa May Alcott)
25. +The Lovely Bones (Alice Sebold)
26. Life of Pi (Yann Martel)
27. +The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy (Douglas Adams)
28. +Wuthering Heights (Emily Bronte). Not nearly as good as Jane Eyre. But good.
29. +The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe (C. S. Lewis)
30. East of Eden (John Steinbeck)
31. Tuesdays with Morrie (Mitch Albom)
32. Dune (Frank Herbert) Did you see that awful feature film they made, seems like it was in the 80s or early 90s? Yecch.
33. The Notebook (Nicholas Sparks)
34. +1984 (James Orwell). Magnus Frater Te Spectat!
35. The Mists of Avalon (Marion Zimmer Bradley)
36. The Pillars of the Earth (Ken Follett)
37. * The Power of One (Bryce Courtenay)
38. I Know This Much is True (Wally Lamb)
39. The Red Tent (Anita Diamant)
40. Ulysses (James Joyce). I tried to read this once or twice, but got bored.
41. The Alchemist (Paulo Coelho)
42. The Clan of the Cave Bear (Jean M. Auel)
43. *The Kite Runner (Khaled Hosseini)
44. Confessions of a Shopaholic (Sophie Kinsella)
45. The Five People You Meet In Heaven (Mitch Albom)
46. + Bible
47. +Anna Karenina (Leo Tolstoy). I read a few pages, but again, got bored.
48. +The Count of Monte Cristo (Alexandre Dumas)
49. Angela’s Ashes (Frank McCourt)
50. The Grapes of Wrath (John Steinbeck)
51. *She’s Come Undone (Wally Lamb)
52. The Poisonwood Bible (Barbara Kingsolver)
53. +A Tale of Two Cities (Charles Dickens)
54. +Great Expectations (Charles Dickens) I prefer Dickens' shorter novels.
55. +Ender’s Game (Orson Scott Card)
56. +The Great Gatsby (F. Scott Fitzgerald) When I was in 10th grade, I fell in love with F. Scott Fitzgerald. I read everything he wrote. I even had a pair of statues I named Scott and Zelda. I hung on to them long after my passion for Fitzgerald had waned, but eventually gave them to a roommate who really liked them. I really liked her, and by then it caused me no pain to give them up.
57. * The Stone Angel (Margaret Laurence)
58. The Thorn Birds (Colleen McCullough)
59. The Handmaid’s Tale (Margaret Atwood)
60. The Time Traveler’s Wife (Audrey Niffenegger)
61. +Crime and Punishment (Fyodor Dostoyevsky)
62. +Atlas Shrugged (Ayn Rand)
63. +The Fountainhead (Ayn Rand)
64. War and Peace (Leo Tolstoy). I think I read about two pages of this one. Got bored. I'm sure it's a masterful book, but I'm no longer in university and no longer feel the need to read a book just because I "should," even if I did major in English!
65. Interview With The Vampire (Anne Rice)
66. * Fifth Business (Robertson Davis)
67. One Hundred Years Of Solitude (Gabriel Garcia Marquez)
68. The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants (Ann Brasheares)
69. Catch-22 (Joseph Heller)
70. +Les Miserables (Victor Hugo). I still can't believe I read the unabridged version of this when I was 12! It's a fantastic story, but yikes, the man blathered on for pages and pages and pages and pages and pages about things that didn't progress the story. And people complain about J.K. Rowling needing to tighten things up. Puh-leeze!
71. +The Little Prince (Antoine de Saint-Exupery). I've read this in English and French. This is a fantastic book.
72. Bridget Jones’ Diary (Helen Fielding). One of my few forays into the field of chick-lit. I'm not a huge fan of the genre.
73. Love in the Time of Cholera (Gabriel Garcia Marquez)
74. Shogun (James Clavell)
75. The English Patient (Michael Ondaatje)
76. + The Secret Garden (Frances Hodgson Burnett). I've read this one many, many times. I wanted to be Mary and help the garden wake up.
77. *The Summer Tree (Guy Gavriel Kay)
78. +A Tree Grows in Brooklyn (Betty Smith). Another one I've read many times. It has such beauty and pathos and strong, strong women.
79. The World According To Garp (John Irving)
80. The Diviners (Margaret Laurence)
81. +Charlotte’s Web (E.B. White)
82. * Not Wanted On The Voyage (Timothy Findley)
83. Of Mice And Men (John Steinbeck)
84. +Rebecca (Daphne DuMaurier). My nomination for the best opening sentence ever: "Last night I dreamt I went to Manderley again."
85. Wizard’s First Rule (Terry Goodkind)
86. +Emma (Jane Austen). I love Emma. Love it, love it, love it.
87. Watership Down (Richard Adams)
88. +Brave New World (Aldous Huxley)
89. *The Stone Diaries (Carol Shields)
90. * Blindness (Jose Saramago)
91. *Kane and Abel (Jeffrey Archer)
92. *In The Skin Of A Lion (Michael Ondaatje)
93. +Lord of the Flies (William Golding)
94. +The Good Earth (Pearl S. Buck)
95. The Secret Life of Bees (Sue Monk Kidd)
96. The Bourne Identity (Robert Ludlum)
97. The Outsiders (S.E. Hinton)
98. White Oleander (Janet Fitch)
99. A Woman of Substance (Barbara Taylor Bradford)
100. The Celestine Prophecy (James Redfield)

A Voice

Do any of these names sound familiar to you?

Gloria Rivas . . . Juana Sandoval Reyna . . . Esmeralda Juarez Alarcon . . . Violeta Barrios . . . Alma Chavira Farel . . . Elizabeth Castro Garcia . . . Rosario Garcia Leal . . . Rocio Barrazza Gallegos . . . Rosalina Veloz Vasquez . . . Maria Acosta . . . Claudia Gonzales . . . Esmerelda Herrera . . . Guadalupe Luna . . . Barbara Martinez . . . Laura Ramos Monarrez . . . Mayra Reyes Solis . . . Veronica Martinez . . . Silvia Arce . . . Griselda Mares . . . Elizabeth Gomez . . . Laura Inere . . . Lilia Garcia

Twenty-two women. Girls, some of them, barely into young womanhood.

Twenty-two lives cut short in a horrifyingly brutal way.

Twenty-two voices silenced.

Twenty-two people out of the hundreds murdered. Twenty-two people out of a vastly larger number of missing people.

I found those twenty-two names in mere minutes of searching. What will I have found after I have spent hours searching? More names. More faces. More sorrow. More heartbreak.

First come the tears. Then the anger. Then determination.

I am determined to give a voice to some of these women. I appreciate MoMentuM for letting me be a part of its Women of Juarez project.

If you want to learn more about the femicides that have been taking place in Ciudad Juarez and Chihuahua City, you can start by exploring some of the links I've posted to the left.

Whatever you do, don't just look away.

Character Meme

I stole this from Erin. She didn't tag me or anything, because our meeting was done through comments in Sarah's blog. But I like her Character Meme. I will state categorically, however, that trying to pick just one is almost impossible. I will do my best. But if I have to pick two, that's just the way it is. Okey-dokey? Now that we've got that established, on to the meme:

Character you'd most like to have over for tea? Jane Rochester, nee Eyre, I think. I'd love to have a nice long tete-a-tete with her, see if Mr. Rochester is really as pompous as he comes across at times ("Young lady, I am disposed to be gregarious and communicative tonight."). I'd like to see if she's still happy with the choices and decisions she made in life. And, while most definitely NOT at the same tea, I'd also like to have tea with Bertha Mason one day. Preferably before she went completely off the deep end. It would be interesting to compare notes, you know?

Character you'd most like to have as a sibling? Mr. Darcy. I think it would be nice to have an intelligent, protective older brother to look out for me. And if he were my brother, then I would have Elizabeth Bennett for a sister. See? "Though this be madness, yet there is method in it."

Character you'd most like to be friends with? You won't know her, because I think only one or two people have bought the book. But her name is Celia Pryce, and she's a major character in The Treehouse, a book my sister and I wrote together. Celia was originally supposed to be a not-very-nice girl. But she actually is extremely nice, and extremely cool, and just exactly the sort of person you'd want to be friends with if you're into books and drama, and into not fitting in. Not fitting in has been my theme through much of my life, so it was really fun to help create this person who, on the surface, fits in beautifully, but who really feels as much a misfit in her life as the rest of us tend to do. I know it may seem a little vain to pick one of my own characters, but I don't care. One of the best bits of writing I've ever done was for Celia, and she's very dear to my heart.

Character you'd most like to have as a cousin? Fred and George Weasley. It's been fascinating to watch them grow and develop. They started off wise-cracking funny guys, with a tinge of mean-spiritedness. They are still wise-cracking funny guys, but they've carved out a really respectable niche in the jokes industry, as well as providing a very valuable array of support equipment for the good guys. They'd be fun to hang around with from time to time, most definitely.

Character you'd most like to have an adventure with? Charles Wallace Murry. He has good adventures. And he is another character who just gets more and more interesting as he grows up. I particularly enjoyed him in A Swiftly Tilting Planet.

Favorite quirky character? I'm with Erin. Luna Lovegood. She is either wholly unaware or serenely indifferent to what everyone around her thinks of her. I personally think it's the latter, and admire her indifference. It's something I could never have done as a teenager, and am only now beginning to learn. She has shown herself to be exceptionally quick-witted and a true friend. I was very touched at the end of Half-Blood Prince to learn that she and Neville were the only members of the DADA to show up when called, because they were the ones presumably to whom it had meant the most, and were therefore the ones who would have been paying attention to their fake galleon that Hermione charmed. And now that I've mentioned Neville Longbottom, I have to add that he is one of my very favorite characters in the Potterverse. I've been delighted to see him bloom so beautifully, and continue to look to greatness from him. I'm firmly convinced he will one day be head of Gryffindor House!

Favorite love-to-hate character? Y'know, I think I'm going to have to go with Erin on this one as well, and select the former Hogwarts High Inquisitor, Dolores Jane Umbridge.

Favorite bad guy? Right now it's Reason's grandfather, whatever his real name may be, from Justine Larbalestier's Magic or Madness series. He seems to be thoroughly Iago-like, in that I have not yet seen any reedeming features in him. I assume that, at one point, he must have had some. But his greed for magic and survival has at least hidden those thoroughly beneath the surface, if indeed they are still there at all.

And I'll add one more category of my own:

Character to whom you've most often been compared? And this, my friends, is Hermione Granger. My husband, when Hermione groaned at the announcement that end-of-year exams were canceled at the end of the second movie, said, "That'd be you." Huh! Shows how well he knows me! I've been known to carelessly walk into the crosswalk at the university and with a defiant eye just dare someone to run over me, when it was time for finals. Okay, this teeny little part of me loves taking exams. So I guess the comparison is somewhat justifiable.

TAGGING TIME: I tag Izzybella and Trista. And, of course, anyone else who feels like doing it. (And you should, because it's fun!)

My Weekend

(Before I write this, please note that I feel like a kid in school being asked to write an essay on what she did over the weekend. But I haven't been asked. I'm thrusting this on anyone who happens to be here reading. And I want to write it. But still. My Weekend?)

Friday night was pretty lame. It involved a quick trip to Subway for a tuna sandwich, the remote control, and my bed. Once the sandwich was disposed of, I turned on a movie I'd never seen before (and how have I gone this long without watching A Nightmare Before Christmas?). I fell asleep right after it was over, but woke up a little while later with a toothache. (Reminder to self: Call dentist, make appointment.) So I sleepily watched an hour of Pop-Up Video before putting in a Harry Potter movie and going back to sleep. For good that time, fortunately, because I was really really tired.

Saturday morning at weigh-in went pretty much as I'd figured. I was up .6 pound. I was NOT happy about it. But I went ahead with my plan to switch back to the flex plan on Sunday. Logically I can tell myself all I want to that I know that could be due to muscle gain or water retention, but I still want to lose pounds as well. If I were 60-70 pounds less than I am now, I could deal better, I think, with the scale not changing while my body still is. But when I'm still a good 80 pounds over my optimum weight, no matter how much my body is changing, I still have a fixed belief that the scale should change as well.

Joe and I went grocery shopping, and then he took me to brunch. But before we went to brunch, I had to change clothes. You see, my rocker husband wanted me to match him. So instead of my cute bright lime Tommy tee-shirt and my sneakers, I put on my New York tee shirt, a black jacket, plenty of black and silver jewelry, and my new black pinstripe sneakers. I admit I looked great. (Oh, yes, it's hard to be humble....)

And we stopped at Borders afterwards, and I bought a new book. Making Faces, by Kevyn Aucoin. I have to just stop right here and say, I heart Kevyn Aucoin. I've been wearing my makeup the same way for 15 years or more, with only slight variations, because I didn't know what to do differently. M-A has this book, and I was looking through it at rehearsal last week trying to get some ideas for makeup for the play. Well, I read it cover to cover this weekend, tried a few things out, and I look great today! I intend to go buy the rest of his books. It is just incredible what he can do for a face, with just a few items of makeup.

And S. and Izzybella and I had our girls' afternoon out. It was somewhat abbreviated for Izzybella, poor kid--she works box office part-time for a theatre in Arlington. The play was sold out; the show started late; and there were, as there always are, computer problems. So she couldn't join us until about 4. S. and I went to Ross and got lucky there--I found a fantastic red shirt with a huge black dragon on front. It's great, and may end up getting worn in the play instead of the New York tee. Our late lunch was fun, and, according to Princess S., calorie free.

That evening I went out and dropped some money on makeup and got Joe's birthday present (finally). And then went back home and read.

Sunday was spent mostly doing housework and some reading. I reread Wide Sargasso Sea. It's a good book--not quite the earth-shattering novel I considered it to be when I first discovered it 14 years ago, but it's good.

And, natch, I watched the Oscars. I like Ellen, and thought she did a nice job.

And that, friends, was my glorious weekend! It probably sounds really tame and boring, but I enjoyed it.

More Dreams and Academy Awards Aplenty

I watched the Academy Awards last night, like a whole lot of other people. Wow--beautiful dresses! I think my favorite was Helen Mirren's dress, but all that I saw were absolutely lovely.

And then I went to sleep. The whole have-to-get-up-and-go-to-work-in-the-morning thing. You know.

Then I had a dream. I don't remember what it was. But I do remember that immediately at the end of that dream, I was standing on the stage accepting an Academy Award for my role in that dream.

Then I had another dream. And accepted an Academy Award for my role in that dream. This pattern repeated itself throughout the night.

In my last dream I played two roles, and was nominated for both roles. And I won. For both.

It was a highly amusing night. I woke up laughing at the absurdity of it all a few times, but immediately went back to sleep each time, and immediately had another dream for which I won an Academy Award.

Now what I want to know is, why did I win Academy Awards for Best Actress in a Dream? Why did I not win any awards for Best Dreamwriter? Because I wrote all those dreams as well as played the protagonist in them all. And some of them were damn complicated.

I'm just sayin'.

69 Things About Me

Stolen from Izzybella, who stole it from Spin_Doc, who stole it from Chesney Girl. Trista stole it somewhere along the way as well.

1. Are your parents married or divorced? They're divorced, and then remarried. They're both much better suited with their current spouses, although I'm glad they stayed married long enough to produce their kids.
2. Are you a vegetarian? No. But that reminds me of a great quotation I read somewhere: "I'm not a vegetarian because I love animals. I'm a vegetarian because I hate vegetables." teehee
3. Do you believe in Heaven? I do, although not in the white clouds and wings and harps version.
4. Have you ever come close to dying? Well, if you consider that every time you go under anesthesia for sugery as close to dying, yes. Several times. Otherwise, no.
5. What jewelry do you wear 24/7? None, because the thought of wearing anything 24/7 makes me feel claustrophobic. Last night when I got home I was too tired to take off my wedding rings and watch, and at some point during the night I woke up, took them off, and kept them in my bed. When I woke up in the morning, I had a wedding-wings-and-watch shaped indentation in my hip from laying on them. But I do love jewelry, and wear my wedding rings and watch almost every day. I also wear whatever jewelry complements my outfit. Like today, for instance, my right earring is shaped like a black guitar, and my left earring is shaped like a white guitar pick and has the word "Rebel" written on it.
6. Favorite time of day? 3:45, when I realize I'm about to get off work.
7. Do you eat the stems of broccoli? Yes. They're a lot more tender if you peel them before you cook them, but who has time for that?
8. Do you wear makeup? Yes. If I happen to get up in time to put it on before I leave for work.
9. Ever have plastic surgery? Yes. I had a breast reduction done in 2001. Went from a DDD down to a C. My back feels much better, thank you. My boobs look much better as well, now that they don't hang down to my knees.
10. If you did have plastic surgery, what would you do? I'm planning to have some--for lack of a better phrase here--rough edges from the breast reduction fixed, and would like to have another lift at the same time. And as I'm losing weight, it's becoming increasingly apparent that I want something done to my chin. I don't know how to describe it, though.
11. What do you wear to bed? My undies. If it's cold I might wear some sweats or my yoga pants and a tee shirt. Or if I'm really tired, I'll wear whatever I had one when I fell asleep, which could be jeans and a tee-shirt.
12. Have you ever done anything illegal? Yes, but it was a long time ago.
13. Can you roll your tongue? Yes, and it's only been fairly recently that I learned not everyone could.
14. Do you tweeze your eyebrows? No, that's why hot wax and stylists were invented.
15. What kind of sneakers? I don't know. They are comfortable and I can run in them. Oh, and I bought a cute pair today for the show that are low tops, black with pinstripes, and have white rubber toes. Most excellently cute.
16. Do you believe in abortions? I believe that they are performed, yes I do. But I'm being a smartass, because I know that's not how the question is intended. It's not a decision I would have ever made for myself. That's all I intend to say about the matter here.
17. What is your hair color? If you're asking about my natural hair color, I haven't seen it in so long, I have no idea. It used to be dark brown. It's probably dark brown with quite a bit of silver in it now. But now it's a lovely warm medium brownish red. Thank you, L'Oreal.
18. Future child's name? There are no future children, unless you count the two who are waiting for me in Heaven (see #3, above). Their names are Tadeusz Hayden (nicknamed Tad) and Elinor Catherine (nicknamed Ellie).
19. Do you snore? Heck yeah! I also grind my teeth and breathe heavily.
20. If you could go anywhere in the world where would it be? Everywhere in the world. I want to see everything.
21. Do you sleep with stuffed animals? Well, Molly does sometimes crawl into bed with me right after she's eaten, so I guess I could say yes. Occasionally.
22. If you won the lottery, what would you do first? Faint. Once I came to, I'd have one helluva shopping spree! In New York City. One that would involve multiple nights' stays. Which would mean multiple nights spent watching Broadway plays.
23. Gold or silver? Gold.
24. Hamburger or hot dog? Hamburger. If it's a home-grilled one, it should have a slice of cheddar cheese, some crisp lettuce, a slice of juicy vine-ripened tomato, three bread & butter pickle slices, a thin slice of purple onion, and some mustard.
25. Only eat one food for the rest of your life, what would it be? Can I pick soup-and-salad bar? Does that count?
26. City, beach or country? City, please. But I wouldn't mind if there were a beach nearby.
27. What was the last thing you touched? My water bottle.
28. Where did you eat last? At my desk.
29. When's the last time you cried? This morning.
30. Do you read blogs? Yes, I do. Linky goodness to the right.
31. Would you ever go out dressed like the opposite sex? No, I don't really see any purpose to doing so. I'm a woman, and quite happy to be so.
32. Ever been involved with the police? Yep. I helped put a flasher behind bars when I was 12 or 13. And there's the whole thing about my mother used to be a police officer.
33. What's your favorite shampoo, conditioner, and soap? I use Redken Color Extend Shampoo and Conditioner. And I heart Dove soap.
34. Do you talk in your sleep? Yes, I do, but it's never intelligible, contrary to what Izzybella once persuaded me.
35. Ocean or pool? Depends on what I'm in the mood for. Normally ocean.
36. Sauna or whirlpool? Whirlpool. Might I remind you that I live in Texas? If I want a sauna, all I have to do is walk outside, at least during 6-8 months of the year.
37. Starbucks or Krispy Kreme? Starbucks. When it's cold or cool, I like the sugar-free, fat-free vanilla or toffee nut steamers. When it's hot, I like the vanilla bean or strawberry frappuccinos. I also really like green tea.
38. Window seat or aisle? Depends. If I'm going somewhere I've never been, I might like a window seat. If I'm going home, I like the aisle. If I'm going to see my Mom, definitely aisle. That three seconds makes a big difference.
39. Ever met anyone famous? Yes, I have. Why, just last November I met Elizabeth Moon, Charles de Lint, Sarah Beth Durst (she may not be famous just yet, but she will be!), JoAnne Whittemore (ditto), Tiffany Trent (ditto), Eric Flint, and Carole Nelson Douglas, among others.
40. Do you feel that you've had a truly successful life? According to my personal definition of success, I have. I hope to continue the pattern. I have been knocked down, and I have gotten back up every damn time. I have aimed high, and continue to do so. I have written and continue to write. I wanted to act, and am in my first play. I have good friends. I'm happy. I'm involved in causes that are important to me. Yeah, I would say that I'm successful.
41. Do you twirl your spaghetti or cut it? I twirl it. I have an Italian sister-in-law.
42. Ricki Lake or Oprah Winfrey? Ugh.
43. Basketball or Football? Well, if you're going to tie me down and force me to watch one or the other, I suppose I'd rather watch basketball.
44. How long do your showers last? Depends. If it's winter and I'm in my house, about 5 minutes. That's as long as the hot water lasts, until the tank's had a chance to get heated back up again. If it's summer, as long as I want, unless I'm late for work.
45. Automatic or do you drive a stick? I love to drive a stick; however, when I was working for CPS, all the driving I did messed up my clutch knee. So now I find it easier to drive an automatic.
46. Cake or ice cream? Why does there have to be an "or" here? Okay, okay, cake.
47. Are you self-conscious? I'm learning not to be. Just for example, five minutes ago during my break I was so stiff that I was stretching in the breakroom, and even did Downward Dog. I will confess to being glad no one came into the breakroom while I was doing Downward Dog, but I still did it.
48. Have you ever drank so much you threw up? Not since I was fifteen. That was so unpleasant I never repeated it.
49. Have you ever given money to a beggar? Yes, I have, but I prefer to give food.
50. Have you been in love? Yes, and still am, even though there are days when I feel like I hate him almost as much as I love him.
51. Where do you wish you were? Right now? Honestly, I wish I were at home asleep. I'm so tired that I'm running on sheer adrenaline.
52. Are you wearing socks? Yes, but they're dirty. I couldn't find any socks this morning because I was so tired when I woke up that I was crying, and I cried because I gained weight, and I cried because I only had 5 minutes of hot water in my shower this morning, and I cried because I was running late for work. So I put my shoes on my bare feet because I knew I had a dirty pair of socks in my trunk (don't ask) and when I got to work I took my shoes off, put the dirty socks on, and put my shoes back on. But they're not TOO dirty. Well, they are now, because I've been wearing them all day, but they weren't too dirty when I first put them on. Only a little dirty. They didn't stink or anything.
53. Have you ever ridden in an ambulance. Yes. Several times. When I was younger our family was in an accident when we were returning home after an Atlanta Braves double-header. Another time I was in an accident when a pizza delivery guy ran a very stale red light and slammed into our pick-up. Another time I thought I was having a heart attack (I wasn't, knock wood), but it was very unpleasant. Is that all? I think so. I don't like riding in ambulances. Not fun.
54. Can you tango? Nope. But I can merengue, and cha-cha, and salsa.
55. Last gift you received? I assume you're not counting gifts I buy for myself, right? Oh, I know what it was! Joe went to a Cheap Trick concert, and he brought me two picks that the lead guitar player threw out to the audience. He thought I could make them into earrings. I will, just haven't yet.
56. Last sport you played? Water polo, 12th grade, 1981.
57. Things you spend a lot of money on? Books. Perfume. Clothes. Shoes.
58. Where do you live? North Texas, near Fort Worth.
59. Where were you born? Lone Star, Texas!
60. Last wedding attended? It was the wedding of one of my husband's godsons, in Pennsylvania.
61. Am I the only person to notice that there is no question #61? So technically this is 68 things about me not 69 things about me. Unless you want to count that I'm pedantic as the 69th thing about me.
62. Favorite position? I like to take the high road. You can take the low road, or you can take the high road. It's kind of like how I tell you to feel free, or feel expensive, whichever you prefer.
63. Most hated food(s)? Okra. Slimy, nasty stuff. Unless it's deep-fried. Um, I know there are other foods I don't like, but really, I'm pretty easy-going.
64. Most hated soda pop? I don't drink soda pop.
65. Can you sing? Of course I can. I sing a lot. I sing loudly. This question probably means, "Can you sing well?" In which case the answer would be no.
66. Last person you instant messaged? I don't instant message.
67. Last place you went on holiday? Austin, Texas.
68. Favorite regular drink? Propel water. Peach flavor, although every flavor is good.
69. Current Song? If this question is referring to my favorite current song, that's just not possible to answer. That's like asking my favorite current book, or my favorite Buffy quotation, or my favorite Chaucer story. Well, not quite like my favorite Chaucer story, because that's an easy answer: The Miller's Tale. But I can give you a few choices (note that the word "current" is relative): Painting by Chagall (The Weepies); Bohemian Like You (Dandy Warhols); My Own Worst Enemy (Lit); Nice Guys Finish Last (Green Day); Run, Shithead, Run (Mudhoney), Song for the Dumped (Ben Folds Five), and I guess I'll finish off with a decidedly uncurrent song that's my theme song, Break My Stride (Matthew Wilder).

And now you know a little more about me than you did before, and possibly even more than you wanted to know. My sister, not without cause, refers to me as "The Queen of TMI."

Trista is Evil

Evil, I tells ya!

Have you read the linky goodness? Why not? Go read the linky goodness. I'll wait here.

Okay. Did you see the part about the Scheherazade Project? See, you might win this really gorgeous brown and shiny gold Italian leather journal:

Here's how it works. Write a story. Or a poem. Or an essay. Just write something, okay? Write a lie. Lie like a yellow dog. (Or, if you happen to have a border collie, as I do, lie like a black and white dog.) It's easy, okay. As Trista reminded me, lying is part of the human condition. I know I've been lying since I was a kid, hence the growing up and becoming a writer, so I can lie with impunity. (Please note that I write FICTION.)

Then post your lie on your blog. If you don't have a blog, you may e-mail it to me at faith(dot)stencel(at)gmail(dot)com and I'll post it here. Then go to the Scheherazade Project, and in the comments section, post the link to your lie. Easy-peasy, lemon squeezy.

Someone's going to win that beautiful journal. Trista can't win it--she bought it and is the moderator of the Scheherazade Project. I can't win it--I'm co-moderator of the Scheherazade Project. So will it be you? Hmmmmm???

Owlie-wow-owww

Every muscle in my body aches. You think I'm exaggerating, doncha? Well, check this out.

Hamstrings? ache. Gluts? ache. Gluteus maximus? aches. Trapezoids? ache. Deltoids? ache. Abs? ache. Other miscellaneous muscles that I can't identify because I didn't take anatomy? They ache.

When I say every muscle, believe me, I do mean every muscle. Honestly--I didn't know my butt cheeks could ache like this.

And when I say ache, believe me, I do mean ache. Let's just say that while the copier was running, I plopped myself down shamelessly on the floor in the copier room to do some stretches. Helped. For a few minutes, at least. While I was passing out copies, I was able to walk with a degree of flexibility. Of course, now I'm sitting down again, so the stiffness will recur. So at any given moment, anyone could walk into my office today and find me back on the floor doing stretches.

So I shed a few tears this morning when I got on the scale and found that it was up .6 pound. Logically I know that (a) I've been stressed; and (b) muscle weighs more than fat. And I've been building muscle. I have been doing a titch of stress eating, but even with that it hasn't been that bad. Probably if I hadn't been doing the degree of activity I've been doing, I'd be losing. So when I go for my official WW weigh-in tomorrow morning, it may show a gain. But THE SCALE LIES!! because all the scale measures is pounds avoirdupois. It doesn't measure my fat lost. It doesn't measure my muscle tone gained. It doesn't measure my blood pressure (117/70, thank you very much). It doesn't measure the improvement in my lipids panel (I'm going for a physical next Friday, so I'll have those results shortly). So I've got to quit attaching so much importance to the scale.

When I took my shower this morning I was admiring the increased muscle definition in my calves. I've got damn good legs, even if they are far fatter than I want them to be. Damn good legs. I'm just sayin'.

So I have my costume almost entirely figured out for the play. I'm going to wear my black and silver and white New York tee (it shows the NYC skyline pre 9/11, so the Twin Towers are proudly standing erect over my left breast) over a black skirt. The skirt is almost ankle-length, two layers of sheer fabric, but it's very easy to move in. I'll wear footless tights, probably, and they may be black or they may be fuschia or they may be lime green or they may be purple. I don't know yet. And I'm not sure what will be on my feet. Maybe I'll be barefoot. Maybe I'll wear ballet shoes. Maybe I'll wear high-top purple Converse. I dunno yet. And I'm going to wear hot pink panties. No one will see them, obviously, but I'll know they're there. And that's what's important. My hair will have lots of rainbow colors painted on the ends. And the makeup will be most excellently cool.

We're having a makeup rehearsal on Tuesday night, and we're taking the first batch of photos on Sunday 3/4. If I can, I'll post something here so you can see how cool (freaky) I look. 'K?

All right. What else can I rattle on about? I seem destined to throw people on their asses during rehearsal. On Wednesday night, during a game of musical chairs, I was so caught up in what I was doing that I pulled the chair out from under someone and she fell, quite hard, on her ass. Then last night someone else was spinning me around with a yoga strap, and I accidentally let go, and she landed on her ass. So I'm just wondering who I'm going to get next week.

It's also really cool to realize that words don't have to mean what they say. I'm a certifiable verbivore, so for me, that's saying something. Last night, in light of the horrible day I had, I did lose it at one point during rehearsal. But I had a 3-person blanket of love, and the words they were saying ("no bath water") really meant all kinds of different things. They meant, "We love you," "You can do it," "It's going to be all right," "Breathe," and more things like that. I felt, and feel, very loved and accepted. I like feeling that way.

Fun Stuff

I said there was fun stuff, and I'm going to write about the fun stuff, because it was fun. One can't always dwell on the unfun, can one?

Hey, that's almost a tongue-twister. Not quite, but listen--
one can't always dwell on the unfun
can one?
okay, not even almost a tongue-twister. But it rhymes.

Anyway, one could always dwell on the unfun, but it wouldn't make for a very fun existence. I won't call it a life because it wouldn't be a life. It would be a walking death. A living anesthesia. I choose to live.

So on with the fun:

Gertrude Stein.

Let me say here and now that a life immersed in medieval literature does not prepare one for the intricacies of Gertrude Stein. "Sugar is not a vegetable." Hello! Chaucer said reasonable things. Well, okay, I mean, it's true that sugar is not a vegetable, so I suppose that's fairly reasonable. Let me find another Steinism. "Luck in loose plaster makes holy gauge and nearly that, nearly more states, more states come in town light kite, blight not white." WTF? WTHFF? (That's from "Tender Buttons" in case you're wondering, more specifically, "Lunch." I have no clue what she means by that. No clue whatsoever.

Please don't take that to mean that I believe everything Gertrude Stein said is bosh. Not at all. I like a lot of what she said. Here are only a few of my favorite Steinisms:

• “A writer should write with his eyes and a painter paint with his ears.”
• "A vegetable garden in the beginning looks so promising and then after all little by little it grows nothing but vegetables, nothing, nothing but vegetables."
• “An audience is always warming but it must never be necessary to your work.”
• “But the problem is that when I go around and speak on campuses, I still don’t get young men standing up and saying, ‘How can I combine career and family?’”
• “Considering how dangerous everything is nothing is really frightening.”
• “Everybody knows if you are too careful you are so occupied in being careful that you are sure to stumble over something.”
• “I am writing for myself and strangers. This is the only way that I can do it.”
• “The creator of the new composition in the arts is an outlaw until he is a classic.”
• “There ain’t no answer. There ain’t gonna be any answer. There never has been an answer. That’s the answer.”
• “We are always the same age inside.”
• “We know that we can do what men can do, but we still don’t know that men can do what women can do. That’s absolutely crucial. We can’t go on doing two jobs.”
• “What is the answer? In that case, what is the question?”
• “When they are alone they want to be with others, and when they are with others they want to be alone. After all, human beings are like that.”
• “You’ll be old and you never lived, and you kind of feel silly to lie down and die and to never have lived, to have been a job chaser and never have lived.”

Get the picture? I could go on and on and on, but I think I've made my point. Woman had a lot to say, and she said it. She didn't always say it in a way that was easy to understand, but she said it.

So the play we're doing, What Happened, A Play, is one of those things that isn't very easy to understand. Reading "Tender Buttons" is giving me a little bit to work on, although that's its own challenge. In the intro to the two plays in Selected Writings of Gertrude Stein (Carl Van Vechten, Ed.), she says this about the play: "And so all of a sudden I began to write plays. I remember very well the first one I wrote. i called it, WHAT HAPPENED, A PLAY, it is in GEOGRAPHY AND PLAYS as are all the plays I wrote at that time. I think and always have thought that if you write a play you ought to announce that it is a play and that is what I did. What Happened. A Play. I had just come home from a pleasant dinner party (elsewhere she tells us this dinner was given by Harry and Bridget Gibb) and I realized then as anybody can know that something is always happening. Something is always happening, anybody knows a quantity of stories of people's lives that are always happening, there are always plenty for the newspapers and there are always plenty in private life. Everybody knows so many stories and what is the use of telling another story. What is the use of telling a story since there are so many and everybody knows so many and tells so many. In the country it is perfectly extraordinary how many complicated dramas go on all the time. And everybody knows them, so why tell another one. There is always a story going on. So naturally what I wanted to do in my play was what everybody did not always know or always tell. By everybody I do of course include myself. And so I wrote, WHAT HAPPENED, A PLAY. Then I wrote LADIES' VOICES. The idea in WHAT HAPPENED, A PLAY was without telling what happened, to make a play the essence of what happened."

So that's Gertrude Stein.

REHEARSAL:

Fun. Just, fun. Warm-ups, trying not to laugh as I watch everyone around me making extraordinarily grotesque faces and sticking their tongues out and knowing that I'm making the same extraordinarily grotesque faces and sticking my tongue out. Trying to keep up with Vanessa in the vocal warm-ups. Failing, but continuing to try.

Sidenote: "I can accept failure. Everyone fails at something. But I can't accept not trying." (Michael Jordan)

Tongue-twisters. I heart tongue-twisters. I stink at them too, but I still heart them.

And then we play. We play with props and space and movement. It amazes me anew each time how intense the play is. We get physical. I'm playing musical chair with another actor; the music stops; she moves to sit in the chair; before I know I'm going to do it, I pull the chair out from under her and triumphantly sit down. She falls on her ass. I pull over a little stool, and gesture to her to sit on it, apologizing in a whisper (we're not supposed to talk) for getting too caught up in the playing.

Another actor is stomping back and forth, back and forth, pacing furiously. I keep step with her, curious. Then I lock arms with her, hoping to slow her down, get into her mind, to without words find out what is troubling her. I put my arm around her shoulder. We slow down. I put my arms around her and hug her. Another actor joins in the embrace. She hugs back and suddenly there are real tears. The emotions that she has been carrying during the day have erupted, and we stop playing for a few minutes. Meanwhile, a fourth actor, feeling left out, goes to sit alone in a corner.

We play again without words. Someone begins beating on an overturned bucket with a rubber arm. Rhythm. Another person begins tootling with a squawking rubber chicken. Music. Another person ties a yoga strap to a hula hoop and begins strumming. We have a band, and we play and dance.

We form a choo-choo train, and chug-a-choo throughout the rehearsal area. When we begin to get tired, we go more slowly. When we feel more energy, we move more quickly, we raise our bodies up. When the train is almost at a stop, someone rushes up and pours coal into the engine, but the train is out of water, and we must stop then.

Someone hangs a hula hoop on the light fixtures on the wall. Another person is transfixed, and carefully lays a rubber hand on the light fixtures. We all work together until every single prop is suspended somehow on the light fixtures on the wall. We appreciate each other's work, and then after a moment of silent appreciation of our efforts, we then shake our heads and begin to undo everything. After working together to create, we then take it apart separately and are off in our own little worlds again.

It sounds crazy. Maybe it is. I love how we start off separately with a prop or two, a thought in our head, and we can all come together to create art. It's very moving to be a part of something like this.

Perhaps that's why my emotions are running high right now.

More Nightmares

I had more nightmares last night, very Daliesque, á la Un Chien Andalou—which I’ve never seen, because the thought of watching an eyeball being sliced with razors is just a little more than I can stomach.

On a side note, why do people feel compelled to talk about their dreams? Children tell their parents, people tell their spouses, and here I am about to tell you. Just wondering.

Anyway, I was attending the University of Texas, being haunted by a ghost that only I could see. No one believed me. One man pretended to believe me, but somehow I knew that he was going to betray me. And I could see the whole sequence of my gullible belief of him, and the results of his betrayal of me. And I describe it as Daliesque, but it was also reminiscent of the more recent Japanese horror films.

Other nightmares, ones that I cannot escape because they are my life:

Joe’s angry with me this morning because I only put $1200 on my bennies card and it’s all used up. There’s nothing like being screamed and cussed at and hung up on several times before 7:30 a.m. It apparently doesn’t matter to him that I figured out an estimate for my entire year’s medical and dental expenses, including doctor and specialist visits, dental expenses, and prescriptions. When I told him my estimate, which would have been off at least by the $268 I spent on my glasses (because I didn’t know how much extra they cost above our vision benefits due to the fact that I wear bifocals and got the progressives), he insisted that I couldn’t put that much money on my card, because he put extra money on his card. He finally reluctantly allowed me to put $1200 on my card. I’ve done the majority of my dental work for the year, had one doctor appointment, paid for several prescriptions, and bought my glasses. So my card’s virtually empty. I have a neurologist appointment today and asked for his card so I can pay for my appointment. Hence his temper tantrum. Was his temper allayed when I calmly pointed out the facts I’ve just mentioned above? Fuck no. I got sworn at and hung up on again. At this point I feel like I don’t ever want to talk to him again.

I also told him that I want to get a henna tattoo for the play. He refused. Well, right now, the way I’m feeling, again I say, fuck that. If I want to get a henna tattoo, damnit, I’m getting one. The whole point of my costume for the play is that I’m a seething mass of rebellion. Ironic that my husband won’t give me permission to get a HENNA tattoo, one that will wash away in 8 weeks or so!!!!

I feel like I should say here that Joe ate a considerable portion of Belgian chocolate yesterday. Whenever he eats chocolate, it wreaks havoc on his emotions. So does that excuse things? Well, part of me says yes, but the other part of me, the part that’s been yelled at, sworn at, and hung up, says fuck no, because he’s old enough to know that it wreaks havoc on his emotions, and he knows that he takes it out on me, and I’m fucking sick and tired of having him take it out on me. So this morning I say that it most emphatically does NOT excuse things.

He’s also stressed because his employer told him yesterday that the company that has had him on site has not renewed the contract. He may be on site there for up to another two months, but his employer does not know if they will be able to find him another position locally. That could mean relocating. Today I say fine. Let him move. I’m staying here. I know that’s not nice, and I might not really mean that. Then again, maybe I do.

I’m reminded at this point of a Buffy episode. Earshot. She’s telling Jonathan, who has gone up to the tower to shoot himself because his life sucks so bad, that her life happens, on occasion, to “suck beyond the telling of it.” He is marveling because she’s so beautiful and gorgeous and has good friends, and he can’t believe that her life could ever suck. She tells him that the reason no one out there notices him is because everyone is so consumed with their own problems. Unlike Buffy, I’m not beautiful or gorgeous. I’ve got my own style, and I like it. I’ve got good friends, and am making more. I keep myself busy, and I have a purpose to my life that makes me happy. But there are times when my life sucks beyond the telling of it. Today’s one of those days.

There is good to report, and I’ll do that later. Right now I had to get the bad out.

Nightmares

I dreamed I was going to grad school.

Okay, now see, that may not sound like such a bad thing in and of itself. And it's not. I'd love to go to grad school. But here's the rub:

I was also:
--Working as a GTA
--Working full time at the job I have now
--In a play
--Running late on a publisher's deadline for a book I was writing
--Solving some mystery I was involved in (yeah, I've been reading too much lately)

Overbooked much? And I had a recruiter from another school keep coming into the bathroom where I was trying to take a shower (it wasn't a pervy thing--he couldn't see me) telling me that I HAD to hurry up and get my application in for his school. He knew it was past the deadline for applications, but he had greenlighted my application, and it was just a formality, and I had a full scholarship, and I had to hurry up and apply. There were hundreds of freshmen just waiting for me to introduce them to English Literature!!

Egads! He wouldn't listen to my pleas that I have no intention whatsoever of teaching English Literature to freshmen (or sophomores or juniors or seniors, for that matter). "But you must teach!" he kept saying. "It's your mission in life! You must teach! You must! You must teach!"

I was really glad to wake up. And not only because I woke up an hour late and dashed out of the house with my pants rolled up to the knees so that I wouldn't drag them in the damp grass and with bare feet because my trouser socks were wet and I had to dry them in the car vent on the way to work (that was Joe's idea--I was going to put them on wet, ugh) and I got to work ten minutes late and rushed into my office with bare feet (thank goodness no one saw me) and put on my dry trouser socks and my too-high-heeled shoes and rolled down my pants and booted up my computer and clocked in 13 minutes late. No. I was glad to wake up so that horrible dream could end!

But then I started thinking.

Okay. No, I'm not going to grad school. I have no desire to, at least not unless/until I can afford to go when I'm not also having to work full-time.

But I do work full-time. And I am in a play. And I hope/plan to be in more plays. And I am writing books. And I am sort of late on a publisher's deadline.

No mysteries to solve, though, not exactly, although there is one that puzzles me and I have no possible way to solve it.

Why, yes, I do have ADD, now that you mention it. Do you think maybe that's partly why I type more than 130 words per minute? I broke the typing speed/accuracy record at one major corporation's personnel office here in the Dallas-Fort Worth area--they were stunned. People who see me typing tend to stare dumbfounded. But that's not what I meant to say. I just tend to overload myself. So was my dream telling me that I need to go to grad school (heaven forbid!)? Was it telling me that I'm pushing my luck, and I need to not add anything else (prolly)? Or was it my conscience pricking at me and telling me that there is something I'm supposed to be doing and I'm doing so many things that I'm missing something?

Or was it just a dumb dream?

Reading, Reading, Reading

I've been doing lots and lots of reading over the last two weeks. Well, I mean, it's been dang cold, and we don't have central heating in our house again this winter. So what else is a girl to do, except come home, turn on the space heater in the bedroom, crawl under the covers, and read? Okay, yeah, I can think of other things too, but no. I've been reading.

Here's what I've read:

Everworld: Search for Senna, K.A. Applegate (Book 1)
Everworld: Land of Loss, K.A. Applegate (Book 2)
Everworld: Discover the Destroyer, K.A. Applegate (Book 5)

I understand there are 12 volumes in the Everworld series. They're interesting enough that I want to read them, but not interesting enough that I want to pay full price for them. So as I find them for 50 cents or $1 at the thrift stores, I'll pick them up to read. Basically a group of 5 teens, one of whom is allegedly a witch, find themselves in Everworld, a world created by the human gods who got tired of living in our world. And, because the gods are nothing without people to worship them, there are a variety of humans as well. But there are also aliens and other non-human gods. Four of the teenagers are living simultaneously in Everworld and in the real world, and they're desperately trying to find the fifth teen and find their way home.

by Amelia Atwater-Rhodes:
In the Forests of the Night
Shattered Mirror
Hawksong: The Kiesha'ra: Volume One
Snakecharm: The Kiesha'ra: Volume Two
Midnight Predator
Demon in My View

I found the first book Amelia Atwater-Rhodes wrote, In the Forests of the Night, on the clearance rack at Half-Price Books, for 50 cents. It was well worth that and more. I think I mentioned it here previously, but she was 13 when she wrote it and 14 when it was published. She has since written and published quite a few more. I've got about half of them now, and plan to have the rest before this year is out. She's a fine writer. Each book has gotten better and better. I particularly enjoy the Keisha'ra series.

Spider Dance, Carole Nelson Douglas. Carole Nelson Douglas has dabbled in several genres, fantasy, mystery, and sci fi. This series involves Irene Adler and Sherlock Holmes. It's fun--I liked the story and the characters. I'm planning to try to track down the others in the series and read them. I found this to be much better than her Midnight Louie books.

Bloody Bones, Laurell K. Hamilton. The blurb on one of her Anita Blake books describes them as "An R-Rated version of Buffy the Vampire Slayer." Uh, no. Pas de tout. I don't particularly care for Ms. Hamilton's vampire mythology. The book was, I suppose, entertaining enough. But it was really, really disgustingly gross in a few scenes, enough so that I'm not going to keep this in my library, nor am I planning on buying any more in this series.

Cart and Cwidder, Diana Wynne Jones. Loved it. This is the first book in the Dalemark Quartet and, like everything Diana Wynne Jones writes, is enthralling. I do recommend it. The characters are well drawn. I also appreciate that she finishes telling the story of the first book, so that you feel satisfied, even as she has one of the characters depart on another journey at the very end, so you want to know where he's going. I get very frustrated with writers who are writing multi-volume sets but do not tie up the stories at the end of each volume (see A Princess of Roumania, below).

The Homeward Bounders, Diana Wynne Jones. What if the whole world were just one of an infinite series of worlds, and we were all just pawns in war games played by aliens? Hmmm? And what if you were to find that fact out? Once again, this is Diana Wynne Jones doing what she does best.

The Last Templar, Raymond Khoury. This is the type of book that I loathe perhaps above any other type of book. Raymond Khoury, like Dan Brown, has made some money off the fact that one can never lose by underestimating the stupidity of the masses. Gee, let's write a "novel" attacking people's faith. Let's write a "novel" asserting that Jesus Christ was not divine at all and the Catholic church has been oppressing people throughout the centuries despite knowing for a certainty that Jesus Christ was just another poor schmuck, albeit a good guy. I do realize that there are plenty of people who do not believe in Christ, and I'm not attacking them nor demanding that they believe exactly what I do. I just wish that people would quit attacking my beliefs in such a way that they're basically telling me that I'm a huge idiot for believing what I do. That's rude and unnecessary.

Poor guy, though, Khoury's "novel" didn't rouse the the furor that Dan Brown's did. I haven't seen any documentaries about his novel--of course, I haven't been looking for them either, so perhaps there are some that I've just missed. Don't waste your time or your money.

Magic or Madness, Justine Larbalestier
Magic Lessons, Justine Larbalestier

These two books are absolutely superb! I read the first, Magic or Madness, and then read it again. Not cover to cover, like I usually do when I have to re-read a book immediately upon finishing it the first time. No, I had to re-read a particular section. Then another, then another, and so on, until I had re-read the entire book. That is significant. It means that Larbalestier writes in such a way that when you have finished the book, certain things stand out, and you have to go back and see if you understand them better. And you do, and then you go back to check something else, and lo, you understand it better. And so on. So the next day I went and bought the second book in the trilogy. I got home at 12:30 on Friday night/Saturday morning. Knowing that I had to be up at 6:30 to get to my Weight Watchers meeting on time, one would think that I went to sleep. No. I read Magic Lessons. I did manage to restrain myself from reading it a second time, though. I'm now very eager to read Magic Child, the last volume in the trilogy, as soon as I can lay my hot little hands on it.

The premise of the stories is that if one is born with magic, one has to use it, or else one will go mad. There's a caveat, though. Using your magic will burn out your life, so you have to use it with extreme caution. Is there another way? Reason is determined to find out. In the meantime, she's going to make sure that her evil grandmother Esmeralda (or is she evil) can't defeat her; she has to keep her even more evil grandfather away from her; and she needs to save her friend Jay-Tee who is so out of magic that she's about to die; she wants to save her mother Sarafina who is insane; and there's the small matter of her pregnancy. . .

The Changeover, Margaret Mahy. Another excellent YA novel; 14-year-old Laura's younger brother is enchanted by a sinister being. As he lies in the hospital, close to death, she turns to the only source she can think of in order to save his life. She ends up changing over, becoming a witch, and saves the day. The book originally came out in 1984, and was re-released fairly recently. It is contemporary in tone, aging very well, and is extremely compelling. It's one that cries out for a sequel.

Night Wars, Graham Masterton. I liked this one better than I expected--it was one of the freebies I received at the World Fantasy Convention back in November. A motley crew of misfits learn that they are Night Warriors with a mission. They manage to save the world, at some cost, and their success in the world of dreams carries over as they begin to make changes in their daytime lives. I'd recommend it.

Jade Green: A Ghost Story, Phyllis Reynolds Naylor. This is a middle-grade book, and I think I'd have liked it much better when I was 10-12 than I do now. As an adult I found it extremely predictable. Naylor does a good job with setting up a good, eerie atmosphere, and her characterization is well done. The ghostly action is laughable (a severed hand that races around the house scaring the protagonist); also, I was able to identify the villain and the truth behind the death of the ghost almost from the beginning. That's from an adult perspective, again, and something that I might not have caught had I been at the target age.

You: On a Diet, Mehmet C. Oz. I've actually read this three times already, but it bears re-reading. It's an excellent book. I've already started doing several of his tips, including taking two baby aspirin daily. I gave blood on Thursday for the first time since I've been doing that. From the time they stuck my arm until the bag was full was 4 minutes. That's a record. I like that. I'm going to the doctor for a complete physical on March 2nd. I'm down more than 40 pounds, and I'm eager to see how my lipids panel has changed. I'd recommend this book to anyone who wants to get healthier.

A Princess of Roumania, Paul Park. I LOATHED this book!!!!!! And it is such an unnecessary loathing, because I think it could have been such a very good book. It's intended to be at least a two-volume set, perhaps longer, although I'm not interested enough to find out. A young woman who was adopted from Romania by a Massachusetts family learns that she is descended from Romanian royalty. Strange things begin happening in her small town and at school, and one night she and two of her friends are whisked into another dimension where, it appears, the world she has grown up in (the world in which we all live) was just a novel written by her magical aunt in order to protect her from the evil Baroness Nicola Coucesceau. One of her friends, a young man who has been missing part of an arm since birth, has an ill-fitting arm to replace the missing part, and her best friend Andromeda is now a yellow dog. The story hops back and forth from the real world to the other world; from one POV to another POV. It's disjointed, hard to follow. It doesn't really end; it just sort of stops. One is apparently supposed to be invested enough in the story to want to buy the next book to find out what happens. Guess what--I'm not. Not only will I not buy the next book, I will not even retain this one (a hardcover that I received as a freebie at the World Fantasy Convention) in my library.

The Last Safe Place on Earth, Richard Peck. I am vehemently opposed to censorship. I find it incredibly disturbing that people would try to censor the reading material of other people. This novel looks at a family in a small exclusive town where everything is supposed to be just wonderful. But beneath the surface, things are boiling. The best friend of the protagonist is desperately trying to take care of his alcoholic mother, and when she is in rehab, takes care of himself. The baby-sitter who looks after his youngest sister, and on whom he has a huge crush, is a born-again Christian who tells his sister that Halloween is evil, and anyone who tells ghost stories and dresses up for Halloween is going to hell. His sister's now having nightmares, and is persuaded that her whole family is damned. The baby-sitter's brother is hot-wiring and wrecking cars, and has even caused one death; now he's beat up his mother. And a concerned parent's group is attempting to remove The Diary of Anne Frank from the school library because it's not about good Christians. Peck aptly illustrates that no matter where one goes, the same problems exist. The differences come about because of how each person decides to face and deal with those problems.

Escape from Arylon (The Silverskin Legacy), JoAnne Whittemore. I met Jo Whittemore at the convention in November, and she did a reading from this book. I finally picked up a copy last week, and read it. The first few chapters were slow for me to get through--there were a few places where her choice of words was so peculiar as to be noticeably obtrusive, and I almost put the book down because of it. I'm glad I didn't. The problem didn't continue, and the story is very good. This is a trilogy; I've ordered the two other books and they will be shipped to me as soon as the last is released in the summer. I do recommend it.

The Truth About Lydia's Lies

Another one for the S-Project

The Truth About Lydia’s Lies

Lydia lied fluently, habitually, mellifluously. Lydia lied as easily and as effortlessly as she breathed. Her lies were totally believable, and totally unnecessary. She never knew why she started telling lies, but it had gotten to be such a habit that she did it incessantly.

She couldn’t remember the first lie she’d ever told. In fact, it was probably nonverbal. Perhaps she’d stolen something off her brother’s plate and stuffed it into her mouth; when he’d slapped her angrily, she’d stared, wide-eyed, at him, and then broke into watery-eyed howls of indignation. Her parents would have rushed into the room and seen the red mark on her cheek and punished him despite his protests. Yes, her first lie was probably something of that nature, she thought.

Astounded at how easily she got away with that, she moved on to bigger tales. She learned just what to say to whom. People were so gullible, and almost no story was too over-the-top. In fact, she realized that the more outrageous the story, the more willing people were to believe it.
Lydia even lied when she went to confession. Not out of guilt, not at all. She felt sorry for the priests, having to listen to the same old boring things all the time. She wanted to give them something interesting to hear. So she made up exciting stories for them, with the end result that she was given extra penance (which she gladly did).

She looked on her facility with lying as her special gift. Some people could sing, some could write books, and Lydia could lie.

But then she met Francisco.

Ah, Francisco! He was the most guapo man she had ever met, with deep brown eyes that melted her insides and turned her steely heart to warm goo. He had very firm opinions about many things, and honesty was one of them. He didn’t know about Lydia’s lies—no one did—and he was as much in love with Lydia as she was with him. And he proposed to her one sultry romantic evening, and she said yes of course and wept salty sweet tears of joy.

But her insides were squirming. Francisco did not approve of lying. So that night as Lydia lay in bed, she made a firm resolve that she was not going to tell any more lies.

As fate would have it, she overslept the next morning. When she opened her dazzling eyes and saw that it was 8:23, she smiled dreamily. Today I will tell my boss that … she began to plan her alibi. But then she remembered. No lies. An hour later, she stood penitently before her boss’s desk, hanging her head.

“I am sorry, Charles,” she said. “I overslept.”

He stared blankly at her. “What?”

“I overslept this morning. Francisco proposed to me last night—see, here’s my ring—and I was so happy, and we stayed up so late, and then I just overslept.”

Charles sat back and laughed.

Lydia looked at him with amazement. “What’s so funny?”

“You are,” he said, still laughing. “C’mon, Lydia, what really happened?”

“I just told you.”

“You overslept. Please. Nothing that banal ever happens to you.”

And no matter what she said, he would not be convinced. Finally she just left his office, shaking her head. Throughout the day, he came to her desk three or four times, trying to pry the truth from her, and she kept insisting that she just overslept, and he still would not believe her.

When Lydia got off work that afternoon, she picked up her sobrina, Alicia, who was going to spend the night with her. On the way to Lydia’s apartment, she drove to a touch-free carwash.

“Tía Lydia, how does this carwash work? There aren’t any brushes.”

“Oh, mija,” Lydia said, “the force of the water pressure washes the car. And then after the wash is finished, then a giant vacuum-like thing passes over the car and kind of sucks up all the water to dry the car.”

Alicia looked reproachfully at her aunt. “Tía Lydia, why are you telling such fibs?”

Lydia looked surprised. “I’m not fibbing, mija. That’s how it works. Watch, darling.”

And Alicia watched, and saw that it was exactly how it works. “Lo siento,” she apologized.

When Lydia and Alicia arrived at the apartment, they immediately began to prepare dinner, because Francisco was going to come dine with them. Lydia had a savory pot of moros y cristianos waiting in the crockpot. She and Alicia made fresh corn tortillas, a crisp green salad, and, because Alicia begged so hard, a layer cake with thick fudgy icing.

Francisco arrived about 8:00. When Lydia opened the door, she greeted him with a kiss.

“Mmmm, it smells wonderful in here! Hello, small-fry,” he said, smiling at Alicia. “What’s for dinner?”

“Black beans and rice, salad, and cake!” Alicia said excitedly.

“Well, let’s eat, then!” Francisco said.

And eat they did. The food was as delicious as it smelled, and they had a good time. Afterward they cleaned up the dishes together, because Francisco was a very thoughtful man.

“I’ll put the movie in, sweetheart,” Francisco said. “Where did you put it?”

“The movie?” Lydia looked at him blankly.

“Yes, the movie.” Francisco said impatiently. “You were going to stop at the store and pick up the movie that I asked you to buy, remember?”

Lydia thought back. She could not remember him asking her to buy a movie. When she said this, he got a little angry with her.

“Of course I asked you to buy the movie. You told me that Alicia wanted to see it, and I asked you to pick it up for me.”

She timidly said again that she didn’t remember him saying any such thing.

“Of course I did!” he said even more impatiently. “Do not lie to me! You know how I hate being lied to!”

Lydia burst into tears.

Alicia looked as if she might do the same thing, staring first from Lydia to Francisco, and then back to Lydia.

Francisco looked ashamed of himself. He took Lydia in his arms. “Sssh, sssh. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

Lydia managed to calm herself down. She rested her head against his broad chest. As she struggled to stop her tears, the little voice inside her head said See what happens when you deny your gift? She had to agree with it.

“You’re right, darling,” she told him, drawing Alicia into the embrace. “I promise I’ll never lie again.”

Bloodshed and Lies

(I had to write about what happened at Trolley Square Mall in Salt Lake City on 1/12/07; I couldn't write what I wanted to because it wouldn't come out. So I wrote something much, much, much milder for the Scheherazade Project on the assigned topic of lies.)

All I wanted was to have a nice, quiet evening, unwind a little, ya know? Go get some spaghetti, do a little retail therapy. How could I have known what was gonna happen?

You get to where you almost expect it at the schools. Well, maybe that's a little strong, but you know what I mean. You hear about a school on lockdown, your heart stops beating, you think about everyone you know, their children, realize no one you know attends that school, you don't know anyone who works there, and you can sort of breathe again. I mean, it still gets you right in the gut, but at least you know it doesn't affect you personally.

But a mall! Who shoots up a mall? And anyone could be at a mall. Your nana, your next-door neighbor, your Sunday school teacher, your baby-sitter, the punk kids who keep toilet-papering your house, the principal, the mayor, your best friend, you--

Yeah. I was there. I like the Old Spaghetti Factory--they have the best fettuccine alfredo in town. And I wasn't really in the mood for Italian, but I wanted to unwind a little, like I said. And then I thought I'd do a little shopping, get some body lotion, a little candy, try on some clothes. I've been on a diet, I've lost 40 pounds--I see you're looking at how fat I am but it's true. I know I've got a lot more to lose, but I've lost a lot, honest. Anyway, what I'm trying to tell you is that Trolley Square is one of my favorite places. It's not like those other malls, all carbon copies. Well, it kind of is, it's got a lot of the same stores as they do. But it's got atmosphere.

Well, I wasn't really there. But I could have been. I mean, I thought about going. My sister-in-law, Kitty, whenever she visits from Buffalo, we used to go to Schmitt's Bakery and get coffee and eclairs. She always used to say that Schmitt's had the best eclairs. And what if Kitty had been here last night? We would have gone to Trolley Square, because we always go to Trolley Square even though Schmitt's isn't there anymore, because it's tradition. You understand tradition, don't you?

But what I don't understand is all these young people, they're unhappy, and they think they have to go take it out on the world. Well I'm unhappy, you don't see me shooting people. Although Ernie, God rest his soul, there were times I felt like shooting him! Well, anyway, what I'm saying is when you're unhappy, you just gotta deal with it, know what I mean? Because shooting people isn't going to make you any happier. And then you shoot yourself, and there's all that mess, and all those people, and everything's in such an uproar, and nothing gets solved. And then what happens? All those other miserable little punk kids see what you did, and they think, wow, that's a good idea, only they've gotta do it bigger, they've gotta do it better, and it goes on and on. Today Trolley Square, tomorrow the Galleria, next week Mall of America, know what I mean?

My mother, God rest her soul, used to say to me, Nancy, she'd say, these are the best days of your life. Well you and I both know that was a big fat lie. I mean to say, if those had been the best days of my life, maybe I would have felt like shooting myself! But I wouldn't have shot anyone else! Okay, maybe my mother. But you know what I mean. Not really. Because that's not how we did things in those days. We didn't shoot people we didn't even know just because we were mad or hurt or sad or felt bad. We didn't fly planes into buildings either, or blow up buildings because we didn't like our government. Know what I mean? No. Here's what we did: we got over ourselves. That's what we did.

I was watching television the other day, some young person's show called Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Don't laugh at old ladies, it's rude. it's actually a very good show. Anyhoo, this real b-i-t-c-h said something very smart to Buffy and I think all these snotty kids need to hear it. She told her to embrace the pain, spank the inner moppet, but get over it. Something like that. Same thing. Get over yourself. These kids gotta start thinking about something besides themselves.

They think their pain is the only thing alive in the world. And that's the big lie. They think there's nothing else bigger than their pain, and the only way they can find any relief for their pain is to kill themselves. But they gotta make the grand gesture, know what I mean, and take out as many others as they can along the way.

How are we gonna teach these kids the truth? I don't know. What are you gonna do? I'm just an old woman.

Languages (not really, but it sounded like a good starting place)

I studied Spanish for three years in high school and one year in college. Y yo puedo hablar solamente un poquito de Espanol. Puedo leer mas que yo puedo hablar, pero no es mucho. I know a few scattered phrases. I can pronounce things properly. I know how to say I have a headache. Comprende?

I studied French for the equivalent of two years in college--one year of intensive French. Et je ne peut parler le francais avec mon mari, ni avec ne personne. I know a few scattered phrases. I can pronounce a fair amount of things properly. I have developed a great love for French music. I like to read in French, but it's vastly beyond my comprehension. Even Le Petit Prince or Winnie il Pu is too tough; I can get the gist, but miss the finer things. I know how to say I have to go to the bathroom right now (J'ai envie de fair peepee tout de suite!--at least, according to my professor, in case you were wondering). Comprends-tu?

It's very frustrating to have spent so much time in attempting to learn something that gives me so much pleasure, and yet it's virtually wasted because I haven't taken the time to take the study of the languages far enough to become really fluent, nor have I taken the time to keep up with what I did learn.

But there are soooooooo many things tugging at me. Writing. Acting. Reading. Getting healthy. Work. Home. My husband. And I have only so many hours in the day. How can I possibly find enough time to do all the things that I desire to do? I'm not 19 anymore. I no longer have the capacity to stay up until 3 a.m. and still get up at 6 a.m.

There's a Rod Stewart song I love, even while I feel it berating me. "I wish that I knew what I know now, when I was younger. I wish that I knew what I know now, when I was stronger."

Yep.

It figures...

Why is it that every time Izzybella and I plan in advance to go catch a movie something always interferes? Tonight we'd planned to go see Epic Movie. My husband was even going to go with us. So of course I have to have an upper respiratory infection (oh, yeah, the doctor confirmed it, gave me a Z-pack of antibiotics and some heavy-duty decongestants) and feel worse today than I did yesterday. I'm at work for another 40 minutes, and then I'm going home for the afternoon. Anyway, I just flat-out feel too lousy to go out tonight. I'm going to stay at home tonight, curled up under my nice warm covers and read and sleep and sleep and read.

So while I'm talking about reading, first let me say that I heart Half-Price Books. They are the bestest!!! I look up all the books I want to read, and then I go armed with my list to Half-Price. Patience and a lot of visits--fortunately, there's a store on my way home--and I usually find much of what I want. And by browsing the clearance shelves, I have made some real finds for 50 cents to a dollar.

The next thing pertaining to books that I heart is librarything.com. If you have a lot of books, like I, and you want to find some way of keeping track of what you own and organizing them at least on computer, this is the way to do it! You just enter the ISBN of the book, and the information on your book comes up. You click it to enter it into your library, and voila! On your older books, you might have to enter the title or the author, but so far I've only come across one book that their system just flat couldn't find. And it's a French grammar book from the 70s that my husband purchased when he was in France. I even have an old horribly-written sci-fi paperback from 1955 that I can't bear to get rid of; I just entered the author's name, and there it was! You can download it to your hard drive in a comma delineated file if you want to export it into Excel; you can access it with your cell phone if you're standing in front of a tempting book at Half-Price Books and can't remember if you own said book already; and you can make fun widgets like the one to the right (random books from my library). So I can't recommend librarything.com highly enough. So far I only have the books from one room of my house entered. It will take me quite a long time to get them all done, but it will be very nice once the project's finished.

New book finds:

Amelia Atwater-Rhodes was 13 when she wrote her first novel, and 14 when In the Forests of the Night was published. It's a well-written vampire fantasy. I read it Wednesday (one of my 50 cent clearance finds), and yesterday I picked up Demon in My View, a sort-of sequel to it. I like it. I recommend it. Go. Find. Read.

Grave Intent, by Deborah Leblanc. I like horror, but not axe-murderer blood-and-guts kind of stuff. It has to be more subtle than that. This was good. I don't like books where young children are in peril, so that bothered me a bit. And one thing that the plot hinged on was complete bosh, but the story was so well-told that it wasn't until after I'd frantically finished reading the book, put it down with a sigh of relief, and begun reflecting on it that I sat up and said, "wait a second! That couldn't have happened that way!" But it's okay. In the heat of the moment I didn't even notice it, so I forgive Ms. Leblanc. There are no vampires in this one, but a shape-shifting ghost of a Gypsy and a real asshole of a father who gets his just desserts in the end.

I like vampire books, and want to read more. If you have any recommendations, I'd be happy to hear them. When I was at the World Fantasy Con in Austin, I went to a breakout session with some vampire writers, and it kind of got nasty. One of the writers whose work I had actually thought of reading began telling everyone that if they stole any of her work she would sue them. (I had slipped out of the session before this happened; Clover told me about it.) Apparently it just came out of nowhere; instead of encouraging all the up and coming writers in the room, the panel were telling them all that there is no room for more writers of vampire fantasy fiction, which is complete hogwash. It got ugly. Fortunately, at one of the panels the next day, the situation was politely addressed (with no names mentioned), and we were all encouraged to write away, because there absolutely is room for more writers of all types of fantasy. Clover--what was that woman's name, do you remember? Because up until she said that, I'd been thinking I wanted to read some of her books because they sounded interesting. But after she just flat-out assumed that everyone is dying to plagiarize her works because we're all pathetic little turds with no minds of our own, I don't want to give her one red cent!

Well, despite having spent a few minutes on this post, I've gotten my work done, and it's about time for me to head home. I'll stop at Half-Price Books on the way home to sell two bags of books I no longer want and buy a few more to keep myself amused in the random hours that I'm not sleeping this weekend.

Stay healthy, everyone, and start writing on your Sheherazade Project theme! (linky goodness to the right!)