Vampire Bites the Dust

Turns out you don't necessarily need a wooden stake to rid yourself of pesky vampires... you can just wait for them to die of old age - or complications from a fall.

As substantiated by the recent passing of Barnabas Collins, centuries old matriarch of the Collins family.

Hey, I never said old age came early for a vampire.

But if you're fortunate enough to be born in the 175th year of the neighborhood vampire, well then don't sweat the lack of a sharpened stake because you have a fifty-fifty chance of surviving the undead.

My musings of the life span of vampires was prompted by the recent passing of Johnathan Frid, the actor who portrayed Barnabas Collins in the Dark Shadows television soap opera and made vampires "all that".

Seems Mr. Frid took a fall in his eighty-seventh year and died from complications.

Hmmmm...could those complications have included landing on a broken piece of wood when he fell?  Maybe I better rethink the whole old age thing.

Baby Talk

There I was, one of only two males in a room full of women who were talking about babies.

It seems the introduction of a baby into a comfortable gathering spurs a need to recount the trials and tribulations associated with being a member of the female persuasion.

Labor pains, water breaking, length of labor, breast feeding, bodily functions, there were no filters on the conversation. 

I must admit I don't quite understand.  Even in familiar settings, folks gathered together are not inclined to recount the blow by blow details of their latest battle with influenza or diarrhea.  So why the necessity of comparing... well, I'll leave the details to your imagination.

The next time I'm invited to attend a function involving a baby, I'm going to demand a head count of male vs female before accepting.

Have Brush Will Travel

His attire wasn't anything out of the ordinary... for a guy on his way to work in a casual dress office environment.  What piqued my interest was that the man crossing the street carried a gallon jug of Wawa iced tea in one hand; and in the other hand carried a four inch wide paint brush - the kind of brush used for serious house painting.

Okay, so maybe he was a well dressed painter. But without a truck of supplies or at least a gallon of paint, I wondered just exactly what he was going to accomplish with his brush.  He was crossing the street at a point where the only nearest anything was a centuries old cemetery.

Could it be he was a researcher?  Is the acid content in Wawa iced tea sufficient to cut through layered grime on headstones?  Was he going to "paint" the tea onto the headstones to make worn lettering readable? ... Or was he just a guy out for a walk with his favorite brush?

I guess I'll never know.

Rippled Reality

A lot going on today so I offer the following:

To see your reflection in a pond.
To drop a pebble in the water.
To see your reflection ripple.
Is to see the lie called reality.

It Looks Like an Outhouse

And all this time I thought the wooden structure was an outhouse. In my defense, it did meet all of the requirements - four feet square, six-and-a-half feet high, sloped roof, weathered boards, narrow door. An outhouse.

 I passed the thing every day and never once questioned by assumption of the building's purpose despite it being situated mere feet away from the shoulder of a divided highway.

It was the new door with a glass insert that caused me to reevaluate my assumptions. After all, a picture window is not a typical feature for a privy. That bright, newly hung door started me wondering just what purpose the small building served.

Today's morning rains brought the answer to my question. Just as the yellow lights of a school bus started flashing, the "outhouse" door flew open and a youngster with a bulging backpack darted from his shelter.

I thought back to the many mornings I was had to endure wet weather waiting for the bus and found myself envying the boy with his personal waiting room.

Sounds of Comfort

Rhythmic patter on the rooftop.
Steady gurgling in the downspouts.
Rushing whispers of damp leaves stirred by wind.
Contented chirping of birds calling from nests.

These are the sounds that send us to comfortable chairs where, wrapped in warming afghans, we lose ourselves in the writings of favorite authors and drift into daydreams.

Messages and Amazement

We associate phone calls at 3:00 a.m. in the morning with bad news.

But I suspected the text message I received in the wee hours of Monday was the equivalent of a stork making a practice run with baby bunting.

My instincts proved to be right.  Once I fumbled my eyeglasses onto my head, I read the news that Media Girl was in labor.  A little over three hours later I was on the phone learning that baby Myla had entered the world...and hearing of the agony of labor that led up to her birth.

Now that everyone is home, I'm amazed on multiple fronts.  Amazed that something over 8 pounds can just slip out of a person (although Media Girl may take issue with the word slip). Amazed that a person can be so small as to weigh less than 9 pounds.

Fingers barely thicker than pencil lead, toes smaller than erasers, and ears little bigger than the q-tips used to clean them. I had forgotten people came in this size and am amazed to think that Myla will one day stand at least chest high to me.

Gator Power

After three days of a seemingly 'round the clock business conference, I decided some R&R was in order before packing up for the flight home. While my options were varied - swing by Disney World or Universal Studios for an evening, stroll the Florida beaches at sunset, visit the NASA facility - I opted for kayaking in the nearby lake.

The solitude was a welcome break after hours and hours of meetings. I was fascinated by turtles the size of SMART cars (well almost), egrets, and blue herons.  Nearly in a trance as my kayak drifted in the swath of light laid down across the water's surface by the lowering sun, I was more than a little startled when a log on the shoreline... moved.

The ensuing splashing and slapping made it clear to me that what I had taken to be a log was in fact an alligator now chasing its evening meal.  A chase that took the alligator directly under my kayak.

To anyone interested in improving their kayaking skills... I suggest putting yourself in the path of a hungry alligator.

I've no doubt I set a world record in crossing back to the other side of the lake where the man at the docks seemed more than a little surprised to see me coming in to the marina at a speed the match of a ten horsepower motor.

Hit The Road Jack

Business has me hitting the road for a few days; but unlike Jack who was told not to come back, I will be returning.

As I was stuffing the suitcase last night I started laughing at the number of wires I was packing.  I had an entire bird's nest of the thin black wires that comprise parts of chargers.  There was a charger for my cell phone, tablet, laptop, Ipod, and..... my Nook.  I think that's what sent me over the edge - throwing in a charger that would power my reading material.

We all talk about the freedom things such as cell phones and laptop computers have given us. Yet if we didn't carry a tangle of wires to keep those things charged where would we be?

I'll be away from the blog-o-sphere for a few days.  Look for a new post round a' bout Thursday.

Giant Rains

The sky ahead looked like someone had scribbled on it with crayon - meaning I was about to run into a wall of rain.

Thirty minutes layer the sheets of streaked gray were still closing. Not a single drop of rain had fallen yet and I wondered just how monstrous the clouds laying down that rain really were considering the distance from which they could be seen.

Another fifteen minutes passed before the first drops hit the windshield and then.... sunshine. In little more than the blink of an eye I had passed beyond the towering thunderhead.

It seemed a little like having watched a giant approach only to discover he was swinging a chopstick rather than a club.

Super Pollen

What with all the green pollen covering everything I was having difficulty distinguishing my car from the budding foliage. 

Unable to bear the shame any longer, I put my car in the capable hands of the folks at the local wash and almost didn't recognize my Civic when it emerged from the other end of the building all bright and shiny.

Of course now it looks familiar - it's the Honda that blends in with the surrounding foliage.

How does that much pollen fall in a single day - and why doesn't it blow off my car as I'm driving down the highway at 60 miles per hour?  .... It occurs to me I may have discovered a new recipe for super glue.

Midnight Discomfort

It came just as I was falling asleep - an insidious virus that turned my muscles to aching knots and my stomach to a churning pit.

Unable to sleep, I moved through the house in the darkest hours of morning when common sounds become creeping worries and the minutes tick by with a seeming intentional slowness meant to draw out discomfort.

Glowing appliance lights cast misshapen shadows into corners. Every window and mirror became a potential window to an unknown horror.  It is during nights such as this that I realize just how little I know of the world around me.

Holiday Dining

Today, Easter, it was ham with a host of side dishes.  Memorial Day, 4th of July, and Labor Day will be barbecued hot dogs, hamburgers, and chicken. Thanksgiving will be turkey. Christmas will be a turkey and ham combo.

It seems that all of our holidays have a food tradition attached to them. Is that because we live in constant fear of going hungry, or because having a table between relatives minimizes family brawls?

Perhaps it's more along the lines of the latter. Sleepy, food drunk folks are less likely to become confrontational when thrown together in a group.

Speaking of food drunk and sleepy... it's time for yours truly to become intimately acquainted with a pillow.

Easter Wish

HAPPY EASTER!

May this weekend bring you colored eggs, chocolate bunnies, marshmallow peeps, and spiritual nourishment.

Shakin' the Nest

Not that I want a crying baby in the house...but Media Girl better have her baby soon.

Nesting has kicked into high gear in the form of.... cooking and baking.  We're quickly running out of refrigerator space as Media Girl whips up a new bulk batch of something everyday.  Chicken dishes, pasta salad, garden salad, fruit salad, Chinese dishes, brownies, cookies - they're all vying for space in our kitchen.  We'll soon be using the changing table in the nursery as a sideboard.

I thought perhaps some exercise would shake things loose so I took 8-1/2 month pregnant Media Girl outside for some Frisbee tossing.  Running, leaping, and bending was bound to get something moving.  It did - me.  I was running from one side of the yard while Media Girl honed her tossing skills.

Maybe drinking a glass of water upside down.... it's supposed to cure hiccups. Maybe it will spur labor.

Fifty-Four Degrees

Fifty-four degrees.  Two months ago people would have been taking a lunchtime stroll wearing a light jacket to break the wind.  Today folks were dressed in bulky coats and displaying facial expressions similar to a toddler who has just had a candy bar snatched away.

Fifty-four degrees. Our cats are in a snit. Insisting on going out first the front door, then the back; only to return fluffed to the size of a soccer ball. Retreating to the windowsill they emit plaintive cries and glare at me like its my fault they can't bask on the front stoop.

Fifty-four degrees.  It's a definite median.  Relatively speaking fifty-four is both warm and cool... depending on which side of the temperature range you're coming from.

Fifty-four degrees. A point of perpetual contention.

Counting on Family

I knew the weekend was coming to a close when the sun came streaming through the patio door.  After two days of gray, damp weather the sun had returned - just in time for the work week.

I thought back to all of the Sunday evenings when the sun shone through the dining room windows of our last home.

Sundays were always "fancy" dinners with the good silver and china.  The sun warmed the whole room, making the silver sparkle and highlighting the floral patterns on the serving dishes.

Flowered wallpaper beneath the chair rail complemented the china on the table and sideboard; enhancing the sense of formality.

Not that we dressed formally.  Jeans and t-shirts were standard attire. The feeling of unity, the knowledge that there was a period in each week set aside just for family, was what counted.