I Vant to Suck Your Blood- Be my guest, Dracula!

The other day a young woman wearing an Office inspired T: I AM: Better Than You Are, excitedly showed her Science teacher that she was almost done with Bram Stoker's Dracula.

It brought back memories of reading the dark book in High School. Curled up on my couch I let Stoker lure me down a tunnel



like the Phantom leading little Laudie down the stairs into his lair on a horse. The dark mood immediately drew me in.



Castles, night time. A cold and very thin Vampire a snooze in his planked coffin as the moon cast a glow through a small window onto the lid.

Bats flying in the dark clouded sky, circling the cement walled castle atop a mist shrouded hill.

Unbeknownst to an innocent woman with a fair neck, wearing a Victorian dress for protection The bad lighting from my lamp at night casting a holy terror upon me!

If I hadn't had been scared half to death by an old movie of the book back in elementary, I could have kept it in perspective. Unlike kids these Twighlight days,



that movie made me resort to cuddling my scriptures like a security blanket instead of posting Taylor Lautner's poster in my bedroom and dreaming of Edward at my neck.

I had to laugh. Because now that protective garlic neclace, instead of perfume to entice Eddie, precautionary step dissolves in my mind now that I have to succumb to blood suckers on a regular basis.

Now, I picture Count Dracula trying to get blood from this "hard stick"; (the lingo phlebotomists and nurses have for those whose veins are pathetic and won't give blood.) and a different scene swells in my head.

Drac trying to get blood isn't as frightening. Except it does drag out the pain at times you will want to hold a Bible to your breast and pray hard.

No, now I see a flustered Dracula..




hovering over me,



feeling for a good vein,sinking his fangs in me and getting nada.

Instead of fighting and succumbing to blood loss, I am directing him like I do nurses





to where the vein may make the draw easier.

"You're hitting a valve right there Dracula, you won't get it there."

"Try here, Drac." I would direct him to another vein, "Try that." pump my hand a bit and let him slap it.

Frustrated, Dracula hungrily try my wrists, get nothing and ask: Where do I get Gatorade this time of night?"




then fly to the store, return and pace impatiently back and forth in front of the big window of his emaculate bedroom until I could get some volume.

With the subtle streams of light coming over the mountains he would grab his cape by the sides, rush to the bedside, and try one last time to extract the life blood from my neck! Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh! Nothing.

Finally, he searches my hand




and asks: "Do you mind if I tried your hand."

Exasperated I say: "Yes, only if you don't 'fish'".

Searching his vest breast pocket,





seeing the seconds tick on his pocket watch, he would draw a butterfly needle from it.





Kneeling by the bed





or recining chair, he would hang my hand down and use his bow tie for a turnicate.




Disatisfaction showing on his pale face he'd impatiently wait as each of the viles slowly dropped blood from my vein.




The sun starting to show, and the vein starting to suck on the needle would let Drac know that there was nothing left. Quickly he would place the viles in his pocket, draw the needle out and ask me to hold the cotton ball over the opening.

"Apply pressure!" he'd say hastily as he threw the windows open, swooped from the balcony simultaneously downing the viles like shot glasses,



and disappear into his basement bedroom, exhausted from such a long night's work.





I would throw back my head and laugh if it weren't for all the fang marks over my body. So the next time I would be prepared and drink LOTS of Gatorade before the wolves howled......

The Power of Fear

Edvard Munch's: ' The Scream.'

Despite a beautiful day yesterday, my son willingly sat up to the kitchen table and completed the whole week's homework packet.

He asked if he could practice writing his spelling words with his yummy cinnamon smelling pencil.

Suspicious, I eyed him, "Is this about the mountain lion?"

"No!" he acted casually. I just want to get my homework done!"

Yeh, right. I have to drag him in at night like a beast dragging its kill in after the hunt. kidding.

I am actually kind, like this:




I looked at his work. His penmanship was perfect. Exploiting the situation, I handed him his journal and milked more learning from him before I reassured that it was okay to go out.

Still, he waited for Papa's early return to go out and rake leaves, and help as the men mowed the lawn. He was wondering what Padre would do if it showed up. He was only armed with a rake...





Fear is a Powerful motivating factor. I feel somewhat guilty for using it to my benefit to get homework done. But now I know my child can diligently sit for a couple hours, with some chocolate milk and sandwich to fuel his growing body, and pound out amazing results. (insert evil laugh here)

Aunts and Uncles invited over for dinner were unmerciful with their teasing. One Aunt had brought him sea shells from the coast.



Because they were fresh out of the ocean, he had to clean them outside under the hose Sunday night and hang them to dry on the clothes line.



They were powerfully saturated with the smell of the sea. Uncle Dan pointed out that it was the perfect way to lure in the Lion and it was no doubt hovering in one of the trees waiting for its prey to exit the house.

"Mom! I'm prey!" he exclaimed. "You better pray!!" the mocking continued. (you have to have a tough shell in this bunch)

This little Mountain of a Lion is coinciding with all the Halloween decorations in neighboring yards. So I do feel a bit bad for his having to walk passed Bradley's house, so I drove him to school today. They better catch that animal-

But tomorrow he has to face the lions, skeletons crawling from under the ground and the Grim Reaper on his own. (Gas prices are sky high!) And today, I have to go out and check the shells for smell and take the burlap potato sack blanket off the pumpkins and tomatoes! AAAHHH! (Edvard Munch anxiety felt here, too.)




However, we do pride ourselves on our athletic prowess, work ethic and sense of humor (sarcasm and shaming in some parts, but nevertheless are powerful motivators.) here in Eastern Idaho. I am happy to pass on our secrets!

Mountain Lion Days - Trick-Or-Cleats

In Idaho you always stand the chance of a couple Snow Days per winter. When I was a kid, it was more brutal. But with the Global Warming we haven't had as much snow. It's still cold. And you may get a Too Cold To Start the Buses Day every so often when the Superintendents deemed 30 below too cold- not counting the wind factor.

It didn't take an alarm clock to wake us up the morning after a blizzard. Excitedly we waited by the radio in our nightgowns and once the DJ announced our school district we hopped up and down with glee that we didn't have to wake up for school but could do this in the sub temps:




So this morning when I got an early wake up call, I expected to see where the computer voiced sub dispatch wanted me to go.

It was the Police Station. "G-r-r-eat!" A family member in a jail cell popped into my head. But luckily for us and the rest of the west side, the Mountain Lion is still on the loose.

That's right. A mountain lion.





I brushed off all fears last week despite the intercom warning to "walk in groups" for those heading off campus to a class because it seemed a random, they will catch it sooner or later type of deal.


So when the automated system warned that the little children shouldn't walk to school and the street address of the last sighting, and that they weren't going to Cancel for a little ol MOUNTAIN LION; I thought the District was almost as brutal as back in my day.

J of course woke up with lightning speed when I casually mentioned to watch for it today at school. "Are you joking me?" I am not joking I tried to convince him with a laugh. There's a mountain lion hangin' around, I sniffed like it is what all us Idahoans deal with on a regular basis. Like Alaskans and Moose walking along the sidewalks.

"What do we do at recess?" he asked baffled at my non-chalance but unable to hide his concern.

"Well, all those girls chasing you is now going to pay off, champ, just run. You can wear your soccer cleats today." I offered up.

He was enthralled. Green light on the cleats. I thought right now might be a good time to take Hunter Safety Classes. Too bad I can't squeeze them in before Halloween.... BOO-Hoo!!

However, J is doing Jedi training. I might need to start those, too.

May the Force be with YOU!!!!!!!!!!

RUST: waiting to happen

With Summer over now, I decided to weed the garden the other day. Stomach flu inhibited me from being able to take care of the weeds I'd pulled and hence,



this cicumstance and the text from Padre: "We are gearing up for more rust in the wheelbarrow...." the considerate command: Empty the Wheelbarrow.



So I did,
.

After a bout with violent spastic gastroenteritis (the common stomach flu's formal name)in which I actually escaped death, today I was able to put make-up on and do my hair. When only a day or so before, on the verym same bathroom floor, I'd gratefully laid my head and enjoyed the coolness on my throbbing temple and begged the heavens for mercy. Made a mental will and kissed good-bye all dreams of living out my dreams.

stow-away leaves.

But then a miracle happened and I found myself sanitizing that same bathroom floor, appalled I didn't do that before I laid down on it, disinfecting everything else and washing laundry on HOT.



After consumming real food, squirrel-like nibbles of toast and a peach, I followed Padre's plea and Cleaned up my mess in the backyard.

I rounded up the buckets used as toad stools to hold the tomoatoes-- having to kick out this poor sleeping slug.



And made a mental note of this summer. Here are the 2010 highlights....



It all began last spring when someone pruned the beautiful plant we had growing on the north fence. Years to come to fruition this plant climbed from its humble beginings entwined through the chain links and creeping weeds right up into the neigbors pines.

Padre's scream when I showed him the shucked stalk of root commenced the season.




It DID grow back and it is much better now. A few years will help, but it looks fine... right?



The next was my awaiting the advent of lovely flowers to bloom around the garden. I like to outline it so it's high lighted, showing off the lovliness as you look from the picture window at meal time and reflect on all the things that happened that made your garden grow the way it did. In which case, your flowers underline in bright yellow highlighter saying: "See, this garden needs some mastering!"

Tonsillectomy is the perfect excuse for not doing so.



So the cabbages that were to be great, especially during the fall time when the pink rubbery leaves turned darker, was something I was looking forward to.


This is what happens when you don't tend to your plants. it turned into a Victorian-ish hair muse. But I think it gives character to the garden.

The next highlight was watching the stool I use to weed upon sink into the ground like some boring movie in science class showing natural disasters like cars falling into sink holes, my stool was getting eaten up by the dirt.



Padre saved it and these Romas took my seat....

The next was the hilarious few stalks of corn. I plan on helping as much as possible. Like maybe wrapping a scarf around their necks for a few days.




I thought about the love story I wrote this summer and some other things that I imagine will crop up on the blog some time soon!

Wellington Window Washer

It is fire prevention week.

Perched on top of the homemade stool Padre made so J could reach the sink to wash his hands, I cupped mine and listened to the boy who has out grown the stool, tell me about what we need to do to be prepared in case of a fire. We talked about escape routes.

With a towel wrapped around the water he'd spilled onto Padre's linoelium floor, he air dried; finally put on some camo boxers and we headed down to his room.

Crackling lightning and rumbling thunder poured into his room when I cranked the window open. Explaining how to bust through the screen, shove the items on his dresser off in one sweep then climb up on the head board, dresser and shimmy through the rectangular space, we devised our escape plan.

Lights finally out, we listened to the lighting lullaby.

Come morning I was up before sunris, showered and at the kitchen table reading the WSJ. An ad caught my eye and I blogged something that J deleted. He jumped on my bed and wrestled me into a hug.

After some tension and time alone we made ammends and went upstairs into the sunny kitchen. Despite torrential down pour the sun had busted through the clouds, shining on everything!



I made hockey puck eggs, (poached)toast, pulled some jam from the fridge and we sat down to eat.

The window was dirty.

It's been that way for a bit but on a beautiful, crisp autumn day you can't look out onto the garden, grass and greenery with that business going on.

Not wanting to miss the beautiful view from the kitchen, I ate my toast minus the butter, downed some vitamins and supplements with my milk and hurried to get my black wellington boots on.

I headed out with a bucket of hot water and cleaner with my jammas rolled up.

Setting them down I walked around the house with my cam and checked out how my garden was coming...















Ode to the firemen I screwed the fire hose attachment onto the black hose and blasted the window.



And climbed the ladder, in the safety of my back yard in my pjs.




J ran outside in his swim trunks and did this:





until he was jealous of me and the hose. So he then hosed off the front of the house. Leaving water marks all over the front windows.
sigh



<


h

Paper Girl

Mmm... I love when I write beautiful words and then my child lays atop my lap top and deletes it all. sigh. maybe that's a sign I should not blog.

until tomorrow- or whenever my heart gets over the fact I lost all that lovely language by the click of a button!

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