Mother's Day

Yesterday was Mother's Day in the US, and I was treated to a lovely spa day by my considerate family.  After a long morning of sleeping-in, I was whisked by limo to hours of massages, facials, pedicures...

Of course, that day actually occurred in some strange, alternate universe. 

Instead, my day began at 7, when I got up early to clean the house for the in-laws, who were coming over for brunch. I also had to cook that brunch; good thing I bought the ingredients the day before in between takes at the dance studio. 

(It was Dance Picture day on Saturday, complete with costume changes and make up on 8 year old's face; we're talking mascara here. All I can say is: SHUDDER)

I really don't mind about the cooking and the cleaning; would take that over standing in a two hour line to eat a meal at a crowded restaurant any day. Plus, when I serve the meal at home, we get to linger over our mimosas as long as we want without an annoyed waiter hovering and clearing his throat in a "We really need that table NOW" way.

No, the true fun began when I had to get 8 year old kid (who had to be changed into costumes and make up the day before, remember) into suitable church clothes. She was singing in the choir - in fact, she had a solo of six words long - so she had to look presentable.

Let me just share a quick secret with you all: she could go to church in cut-offs and a hole cut into a tablecloth as a poncho, and I wouldn't care. Heck, she could wear that dance costume from the pictures. My feeling is: I got my family to church relatively clean, what more do you want?

But no, "certain other people" (husband) don't agree. So I had to bully and chivvy kid into skirt - I know, the horror - and shirt that didn't have a T in front of it. 

After church, the day went well. The waffles turned out crispy and delicious. The mimosas flowed. the bacon disappeared in 30 seconds... all was right with the world. 

I even got to sneak upstairs for a ten minute nap at one point. Winning!

The true festivities, however, began at eight o'clock at night. That was when my daughter remembered she needed to bring in a book about the planets, with many planetty facts, to school on Monday. Yes, the classic "I just recalled my homework that I had all weekend to do" move which makes all parents want to curl up in a fetal position.

EXCELLENT gift!

There are no libraries or bookstores open at 8 PM on Sunday in our town.

Therefore, Mother's Day ended for me by writing a book on planets, complete with pictures, and printing it out. Did you know that Pluto was no longer a planet? You want to know why? Because its kids drove it to a gaseous death, that's why.

Finally got kid into bed and settled down to Mad Men with my husband. I admit I was eyeing up the Mimosa leftovers. Was just about to pour, when my daughter's bedroom door opened - she had a nightmare and I had to go and lie down with her and put her to sleep, again. I blame the waffles.

So, Mother's Day for me (and, I suspect for many others) was truly a MOTHER'S day. I was a mom in every sense of the word. 

All day long.

OUCH

My daughter had to have four teeth extracted yesterday. They were only baby teeth, but they had long roots and were crowding her adult incisors, so the orthodontist proclaimed they had to go.

This set into motion an entire month of misadventures. First I took her to the dentist, and they said the teeth were too difficult to remove - I would have to take her to an "orthodontic surgeon."

That's a nice, friendly phrase that won't strike terror into the heart of the 8-year-old who hears it - no, not at all.

I called the surgeon and found that we had to go in for a consultation first. This meant dragging my kid out of school early and taking her to the scary surgeon. I know it's a good thing that Kid likes school, but it's a pain when I show up to take her to Not Fun places and she doesn't want to leave.

Once we arrived, I was so frazzled I lost my keys in the office and had to have the entire staff help me look for them (they slipped between the cushions of the chairs in the waiting room, in case you were wondering.)

"It's your professionalism I admire"

Ever get a hot flash so violent that you sweat like an outfielder under the broiling sun in Arizona at noon? Yeah, that, except mine was from embarrassment, not hormones.

Once I found the damn keys, I scheduled the appointment for the actual extraction. They promised me that the teeth would come out easily and Kid would only need a local and laughing gas.

Kid tells me she doesn't want the laughing gas. I blurt out, "But, sweetie, that's the fun part." Mother of the year, y'all.

Repeat the 'picking up from school' debacle two weeks later. Arrive at "surgeon," and kid crawls to the back of the truck and refuses to come out. I bribe, cajole, promise, and finally threaten. Start to feel like Hannibal Lechter / that dude with the lotion in the basket.

Bring kid into office and watch as she is strapped into chair. She does smile when she gets the nitrous oxide gas. SEE???

Teeth pulled. I'll gloss over those details.

Mouth packed with gauze, and we go back to the car. (I strapped the keys to one leg a la Lara Croft this time.)

Yeah, Tooth Fairy! Go Tooth Fairy!

Get home, and kid decides that all the pain was My Fault. She begins to complain for the next few hours at the top of her lungs. Refuses pain meds, jello, ice cream, movie, iPod... 

I find myself ready to offer her a Paris vacation or the entire island of Cyprus. 

Hot flash intensifies (mine). Kid insists she looks like a "Nerdy hamster" now with her incisors gone.

Sneak tylenol into kid. Tirade stops. 

I look at those teeth in the little baggie again and realize she was really very brave throughout the entire ordeal. 

Tooth fairy stops by and leaves gift and lots of dollars.

Brave girl goes to school; I see I'll have to boil the blood-stained sheets. Thank the heavens it's all over.

You know, she doesn't look like a Nerdy Hamster now... she looks like a cute, brave hamster. 

I Love David Wong

Why do I love him? If you're a bit odd like me, you'll realize why after about a page of reading his stuff. He writes horror that is incredibly chilling as well as very funny, and  I was introduced to his stuff by Dwight Okita. Dwight never steers me wrong, so I looked at the sample of John Dies at the End.

As soon as I got to the part of the basement door handle and what it turned into, and what David (he's not just the writer, he's also the main character) says as a result, I clicked the Buy button. It was simply a crime not to get the book.

Make no mistake, the horror is very intense. Wong doesn't hold back on the gore and weird stuff that happens in his depressed, middle America town which he calls (Undisclosed.) However, I thought the most frightening part of the book was an online conversation between David's friend, Amy, and some other women. The concept was enough to keep me awake - and made me laugh as well.

Amy is a unique character. Like David, she is damaged, but she has her own strength and poise that transcends her need to take pain meds and a ghost hand. Her missing limb, in fact, is very important in the book. The relationship between her and David, as well as their dog, Molly (who might just be the best dog ever) is very real.

In fact, everything seems so real that I accepted without question an alien sentient drug called Soy Sauce, one that can bend time/space and give superpowers to the user. I accepted that there was a guy called John, a loud, boastful slacker given to much partying - which basically means he'll drink or inject any substance he's given.

Beyond those little weak points, John is loyal, brave, and at the end of the day, a great friend. However, his willingness to try Soy Sauce sucks him, David, and Amy into a series of adventures that grow more and more strange, taking them to Las Vegas, an abandoned mall, and an alternative universe.

John Dies at the End was so good that I saved up to buy the next installment, This Book is Full of Spiders (Seriously, Dude, Don't Touch It.) Yeah, that's really what the book is called. The Kindle copy cost lots of dollars, too. Not so happy about that.

Spiders is just as interesting and horrifically funny as JDATE, but the storytelling falls apart in the middle. JDATE was all told from David's point of view; in Spiders, the author cheats and switches narrators and voice several times. I could understand if it was really necessary to do that, but as I'm reading, I can see how it could have been avoided, to make it a much tighter book, and believe me, I'm not a wonderful editor. 

Still, there is loads of action, plus zombies, Red Shirts, and, yes, spiders. And - how do I put this delicately? - let's just say that the O in Wong could be easily changed to an A. Yeah, there are lots of those flopping around.

Did I mention they made JDATE into a movie?  With Paul Giamatti in it?

Be aware that the books are NOT for children or anyone under 18 - and I might make that 21, actually. They aren't for the squeamish either. But if you would like to see what a book written by Stephen King's younger brother would be like, the one who dropped LSD concocted by Dr. Jekyll, decided he didn't like it and turned to writing instead, give JDATE and Spiders a try.

One thing is for certain - both books are very unique.

Man vs Cat

Hurray! David Brown is coming back to my blog on February 2nd with a  guest post. This is a preview of his book, Man vs Cat, along with a chance to win some goodies. Swag, y'all!

You can find Man vs Cat here:




"History has known many famous cats - Garfield, Mr Bigglesworth, Simon's Cat, the Aristocats, the Cheshire cat and the Keyboard Cat on YouTube.

In recent years these feline things have replaced man's best friend as the most popular pet in the U.S. while the Ancient Egyptians once worshipped them as gods. This was a mistake and I'm here to tell you why.

Man vs Cat is the story of one man, one woman and the six cats that changed their lives forever. To the woman they brought love and affection, to the man they brought sleepless nights, fear, paranoia and even ruined his jigsaw. Need I say more?"
Enter the raffle here:

a Rafflecopter giveaway

And do come back on February 2nd to read David's funny post. He makes me laugh weekly on Facebook about his daily life with his wife and six cats, so I'm really looking forward to the post and the book.

The Nineties

This era was a challenge. What possible fashion trends had not already been thought of in the 60's, 70's, and 80's?

Oh, yeah, there was this:

WHICH APPARENTLY IS STILL A TREND WHY

I'm not kidding you when I say that whilst shopping in the mall a few weeks ago, my 8 year old and I saw a young, male, red-boxered heinie with pants carefully belted to rest just below the red cheeks of The Scarlet Bottom.

Our fella was number 2.

Kids, when they are 8, are LOUD. Even though the crowds were plenteous that day, I'm pretty certain every shopper in the mall heard my kid yell, "HEY, MOMMY - CHECK OUT THAT DUDE'S RED UNDERWEAR. WHY IS HE SHOWING HIS UNDERWEAR? HIS PANTS ARE HANGING BELOW HIS UNDERWEAR. AND IT IS RED. RED UNDERWEAR."

Neat! Now women can do it too!

There have been times when I have been embarrassed by my kid's loud voice, but this was not one of those times. I felt like doing a cheerleader flip coupled with a Siss Boom Bah. Instead, I bought her ice cream.

Then there was the Rachel:

Everyone wore that for a while. Everyone. Even those who should not have.

You're so lovely and beautiful and I admire you so much but girlfriend do not ever do this again

And the grill. Is that still a thing? I don't know... young whippersnappers.... now in my day we tried to keep the metal off our teeth, but knock yourselves out, kids. 

Boot-cut pants were in, which I liked, since they disguised my cankles. But, some people wore those pants really long, with really high heels. At some point, that look begins to resemble horse legs, and I'm talking the steeds that pull a beer wagon.

Neigh!

At that point, when we were all running around with red underwear and horse legs, the millennium ended. We're now in the noughts, and there are no fashion trends that I can see, beyond Taylor Swift's ringlets and designers refusing to create dresses with sleeves (yes, I'm still ticked about that.)

Sleeves. They are pretty. Take note, designers.

But I'm happy to be taught otherwise.