Balls and Walnuts
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REAL photos this time
I expect you have recovered from that pumpkin photo?
My brother-in-law sent some photos from their recent visit here. Here’s Jake lighting his birthday cupcake:
Because Kate’s doing it
I know I promised you a Berkeley travelogue, but I’m having trouble feeling motivated. I mean . . . Top Dog. The Campanile. Sproul Plaza. Telegraph Avenue. East Bay Vivarium.
‘Nuff said. I’ll write more about Berkeley when I feel ready to give it the love it deserves.
This morning, while procrastinating because I dread editing blog-hopping, I chanced on this lovely post from Kate, my long lost twin. How I love those old black-and-whites, even if they’re photos of strangers. (Although, since I can really see Kate in her mom’s picture, they don’t feel much like strangers.) That one of Kate’s parents in the photo booth captures a time, a mood, an emotion.
On that note, here’s a photo my sister sent me last week. I had never seen this one before.
That’s Sis looking pensive, my mom and dad above her. My first thought when I saw this photo: I don’t know these people. My sis is — what, eleven years older than me? Or twelve? So, for me, these parents are young.
I mean, really young. My mother looks barely legal.
But it’s not even their youth which looks so startlingly unfamiliar; it’s their happiness. I see real joy in their eyes, joy and hope, the expectation young people have that the life ahead will be full of good things.
Maybe it was just an instant, not representative of the era. Or maybe they were truly that content with each other. I don’t know. Considering what they became, I’m not sure which possibility disturbs me more.
D.
Not many scary stories . . .
Jess gave us this story from her trick-or-treating days:
My story is uninspiring but delightful all the same. I have a twin sister and we decided once to dress up alike. We went around town separately, however, and stopped at the same houses multiple times. The poor people had no idea if we were some lost child or how many of us there really were. They were so confused! We had way too much candy for two people but it was fun anyway!
Jean gave us a smorgasbord of scary moments. My favorite,
As an adult, I had to live in the Bronx for three years. I hated that. I heard gunshots regularly. At 2 am, I heard what sounded like large metal dumpsters being dropped — there were no metal dumpsters in the area.
Mysterious things that go crash in the night — now, that’s scary.
By drawing, Jean wins it. Congratulations! (I’ll let Tam know.)
D.
Thank heavens we don’t have a dog (updated)
And no self-respecting cat would allow such liberties.
***
Ever see a flea and body lice do a cover of Violent Femmes “Gone Daddy Gone”? Here ’tis.
No, really. Watch it.
D.
Travelogue I
Before I get started, I want to give a little lurve . . .
First to longtime lurker Never That Easy, who awarded me her Perfect Post Award for October, 2006. Here it is:
. . . which I won for my Smart Bitches Day post, Boys Need Romance. Thanks, NTE! If this keeps up, I’ll have to start stacking awards on my sidebar.
Next, some furry love to Erin O’Brien, who aims to one-up my cameltoe extravaganzi with one of her own. Kinda. Sorta. Thanks, gorgeous.
One question: if the plural of clitoris is clitorides, and if a group of sharks is called a shiver, a group of roebucks a bevy, and a group of parrots a pandemonium, what should we call a group of penises? I vote for slither, which happens to be one name for a group of snakes. But I’m open to suggestion.
By the way, when I do my shopping today, I’ll be sure to buy an ejaculation of Krugys for all you Krugy-flaunting women willing to send someone like ME your home addresses. Suckers.
On to the travelogue.
Corn Dog is a sweetie
We got together recently in San Francisco with her strapping husband and had a YUM meal at The Slanted Door.
Apologies to my other Bay Area readers . . . next time, I promise. My time was sorely limited.
More on my SF adventures tomorrow, featuring
The Mitchell Brothers theater! (Eh, don’t get your hopes up. I walked past.)
Fine Italian cuisine!
Feats of strength and daring!
Sweaty shirts!
And more . . . tomorrow. I’m exhausted.
D.
My sperm finds a comfy home
Remember Krugy? Well, Renee put him to good use.
I have but one thing to say:
Aaaaaaah.
D.
Thirteen things I learned from Cosmo, part quatre
I’m in San Francisco today, sitting through lots of boring lectures about hospital administration or something. I don’t know. I guess I’ll know on Thursday. In any case, I’ve promised you a Cosmo Thirteen, and who am I to disappoint my readers? Here ya go, folks, thanks to the magic of pre-scheduled posting! But I won’t be commenting until late tomorrow evening. (That also means I won’t be able to give you any linky lurve. Sorry!)
The November 2006 issue of Cosmo decorates our supermarket shelves, and you know what that means: time for me to learn a few things about men, women, and the war between the sexes.
1. Paris Hilton has a new “fragrance” — Heiress — and it doesn’t smell like the hindquarters of a cat in heat!
But, you know, I’m just assuming here. They don’t call this stuff eau de toilette for nothin’.
Elsewhere on the odor front: not to be outdone by La Hilton, Britney Spears has her own fragrance — Curious. As in, What’s that smell, dear? Well . . . isn’t that curious.
2. This woman is clueless:
“I had plans to meet up with a guy I had just started seeing and went to a bar with girlfriends beforehand. We shared a seared tuna appetizer and drinks. Later, I headed to the guy’s house. I was a little tipsy, and as soon as he opened the door, I jumped his bones. I wasn’t planning on spending the night because we weren’t sleeping together yet, but we were both so exhausted, we just cuddled and fell asleep. A few hours later, I woke up feeling sick and couldn’t make it to the bathroom, so I vomited in his hamper. When I tried to crawl back in bed, he made an excuse about having to work early and offered to drive me home. I never heard from him again.”
This gal thinks her crime was throwing up in the hamper. My take is, this guy got the willies because he thinks she has a drinking problem. She concludes:
“The next day, my friends said they’d all been sick too. I guess it was the tuna.”
You go on telling yourself that, darling.
Eleven more below the cut!
Interview: Tamara Siler Jones (part 2)
So you’ve ordered Valley of the Soul and you don’t know what to do until it arrives? Keep reading.
Interview: Tamara Siler Jones (part 1)
Don’t forget the contest to win a signed copy of Valley.
Halloween brings us the release of Tamara Siler Jones‘ third forensic fantasy, Valley of the Soul (available from Amazon, or — buy blue! — Barnes and Noble). For those of you unfamiliar with the series, Tam’s stories focus on Dubric Byerly, the Castellan (think Chief of Police) of Faldorrah. Dubric’s task is to keep the people safe. For Dubric, failure carries a special sting: he’s haunted by the ghosts of murder victims whose killers have not been brought to justice.
In the first novel, Ghosts in the Snow (reviewed here), Dubric and his staff face a killer of young women. In Jones’ second novel, Threads of Malice (reviewed here), sexual abuse and murder pose an even more twisted threat to the Castellan’s team.This time around, ritualistically slaughtered animals begin appearing in Faldorrah. Prank or something far more ominous? I’ll give you one guess.
As I’ve mentioned before, one of the neat things about Jones’ novels is that each is self-contained. You needn’t read them in sequence (and I didn’t).
On to the interview!