Finding my Zip

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I’ve been in a kind of funk the last couple of days. I haven’t had a true migraine, just tension headaches and feeling really tired. I was up at 7:30 this morning, but then I went back to bed at 9:30 because I was so exhausted I felt like I’d been drugged into sleep.

I woke again at one-thirty this afternoon.

I’ve tried to write, tried to research, tried to get into the mood to do some more Christmas decorating, and all I want to do is sleep. I haven’t even cracked open (metaphorically speaking, as it’s a Kindle file) the Cleo Coyle book I got on Tuesday at 2:01 AM Central time.

Tonight, in an effort to shake the funk, I played a bunch of music, but even that didn’t help, so I went to YouTube and found a Peter, Paul and Mary video (because I am SUCH a geek) that never fails to make me grin.

That video is below. Enjoy:

Holidailies 2012

Re-arranging

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I’ve learned, in my 42 (and change) years on this planet that I am a creature of opposites. I like the semblance of a routine, but I also thrive on change. I like to ‘nest,’ but I also enjoy traveling to new places (as long as they have wifi, hot water, working plumbing and excellent coffee). Depending on the day, and the situation, I’m either a shy extrovert or a bold introvert.

Living Room by Melissa

This week I’ve been indulging in one of my favorite activities that doesn’t involve either writing or singing: I’ve been re-arranging furniture. It began with a move (mentioned earlier this week) of my writing studio from one room to another. That part was easy for me, because my husband and a young friend of ours moved the actual furniture and most of the books. (Is it possible to have too many books? Or is it just not enough bookshelves?)

But that was Sunday, and today is Wednesday.

For the last three days I’ve been slowly putting the books in order on different shelves that look bigger, but actually hold less. I wanted my studio done before I HAD to write in it, but now the week is mostly over, so tomorrow I’m going to have to write in it anyway. I did some editing and web stuff up there today. It worked okay, but the clutter is killing me. KILLING ME. If it wouldn’t set off the fire alarms and scare the dogs, I’d take a torch to everything and start over.

Almost everything.

I’d preserve the Captain Jack Sparrow and Mad Hatter dolls. And probably the Data doll, too. Maybe.

About half-way through the day, today, I was having a minor melt-down because Fuzzy is in Boca for the week, and the dogs were driving me crazy, and nothing was finished, and oh, it’s THAT time of the month, and my net wasn’t working right, so I went into the room that used to be the Word Lounge, and moved a couch.

Let me repeat that: I moved a couch, ALL BY MYSELF. Okay, it was only moved from one wall to another, but it’s a three-seat sofa-bed, so that totally counts as something awesome. Also? I moved a set of bookshelves, which is no mean feat when you’re only five feet tall. It’s not that objects are too heavy; it’s that I don’t always have enough leverage.

And then I moved a bunch more books, and now, while neither room is entirely finished, I can see what “finished” will look like, and I can almost glimpse that glorious end point.

It used to be that when Fuzzy went away, I’d rearrange the furniture in the living room or the bedroom. Our current bedroom furniture (and layout) doesn’t lend itself to easy rearranging, and since our living room doesn’t have walls (it has ONE solid wall, and an entire wall of windows, and the wall separating it from the kitchen/breakfast room has cut-outs), there’s a limit to what one can do with furniture in there and still be able to see the television.

In other news, I started decorating for Christmas today, finally.

And on that note, I’m going to watch the end of Nashville (another opposite: I’m not a country music fan, but I love this show) and then toddle off to bed at a reasonable hour for a change.

Happy Holidailies

A Foster-Dog’s Christmas Wish (A Letter to Ms. Santa Claus)

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Dexter-the-Foster-Pup

Dear Ms. Claus,

I’m Dexter and I’m a one-year-old terrier mix.

I’m also a foster-dog.

I’m writing to you because I know the Old Guy is working on toys and stuff for human-type children. I’m pretty sure he leaves the requests from dogs to you. After all, if you’re like most women who don’t have kids of their own, you treat your pets like members of the family, and don’t mind a few stray hairs on your clothes. (I’ve heard you even have special treats for Blitzen, and know just how Donder likes to have the bases of his antlers rubbed.)

So here’s the thing. I came from a kill-shelter in rural Texas. I know what you’re thinking Ms. Claus – or, may I call you Ms. Santa? Great! – Anyway, I know you’re thinking, “Kill shelters are awful. Dogs would be better left to survive on the streets.” But the thing is, most kill-shelters would give ANYTHING to NOT be kill-shelters. The folks that work in them do it because they hope to save cats and dogs like me, who don’t have homes of our own anymore, if we ever did. Also? When a dog or cat goes to a shelter, especially a shelter like the ones in Glen Rose or Joshua, Texas, like I did, it means they have a chance to be noticed by a rescue organization.

That’s what happened to me, Ms. Santa. A group called the Shelter To Rescue Coalition saw me at the shelter, and asked one of their foster families to take me in and help me learn house manners, and find a forever home. My foster family is pretty cool, Ms. Santa. They pet me and feed me and play with me, and I have three other dogs to pal around with, and when I have an accident in the house because I’m having so much fun playing I forget to go outside, they don’t even yell at me. They just tell me they’re disappointed and ask me to do better next time.

But I’d really like a home of my very own, Ms. Santa. One where I’m allowed to sleep on the bed (the girl-dog here doesn’t like me enough to allow that), and maybe have a kid to play with, because even though I’m small, I’m pretty active, and love to run and play.

That’s my biggest Christmas wish for me. A home of my own. But I have other Christmas wishes, too:

– I wish every human would love and care for their pets, and get them spayed or neutered, so unwanted puppies and kittens don’t end up in shelters.
– I wish people who love animals would consider fostering a shelter pet, even if they can’t adopt, so that shelters have more room, and the fostered pets get seen.
– I wish the only time a shelter had to euthanize a dog or cat was when it was so sick or old that doing so was the kindest choice, and not just a matter of space.
– I wish no dog or cat was ever cold, hungry, scared, or homeless, because all we know how do to is love our humans, and we don’t understand when they stop loving us.
– I wish no one would give pets as Christmas presents, because while it’s great to adopt a foster pet for you, adopting one for someone else is usually a Really Bad Idea.

I know that’s a lot to ask for Ms. Santa, but that’s why I’m writing to you. I’m sure you speak Dog and Cat with equal fluency, and can use a shake or two of the Jolly One’s magic to help shelter pets get homes for the holidays, and every day.

As for me? My foster-mom says to tell people that I’m about 16 pounds, neutered, up to date on shots, and available for adoption through Shelter to Rescue. She also says, “Please adopt Dexter because we’re falling in love with him.” Don’t let her know this, but I kind of love her and her human mate, too.

Merry Christmas from DEXTER.

Happy Holidailies

Midnight Brownies and Mystery Books.

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“Yes, I AM baking brownies at 10:47 PM,” I posted on Facebook an hour or so ago. “Doesn’t everyone?”

The thing about the weeks when Fuzzy is away for work is that I tend to live on my own schedule, and that doesn’t always have anything to do with conventional work/rest cycles. Yesterday, for example, I intentionally spent the entire day curled up with books, and even though I got a lot done today, I never bothered to change out of my comfy pajamas. (This may have something to do with the time of the month; it may not.)

So, when I started craving chocolate, and knew I didn’t want to go through the effort of making cookies – my recipe for chocolate chip cookies, while awesome, makes 4.5 dozen, and I didn’t want to stand there and make little balls of cookie dough and fill trays and stuff, (Yes, I know, one is not required to make all 4.5 dozen, but I always do because I think the dough tastes weird after being chilled.) I found a brownie recipe to try.

I made a batch and watched live television until it was done, and then I had brownies while watching tonight’s CASTLE on the DVR, and even cleaned up the kitchen after.

And now? Now I’m wearing fresh pajamas because I did shower today – I mean, I didn’t feel the need for real clothes, but cleanliness is required.

The new Cleo Coyle book was literally just released. Guess who is about to download it?

Guess who will probably be up all night reading it?

Happy Holidailies

Hot December

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I was going to make a play on the whole Grinch thing in this post, but it’s late, I’m tired, and I hate all things Seuss, but it’s late and too warm for Christmas, and a gecko was in my bra.

Stop laughing.

I mean, all I was doing was opening the door to let the dogs out, and suddenly this baby gecko dropped from the sky, landed on my shirt and dove for cover in my bra.

It’s a good thing our back yard is very (very) private, and also that it was dark, because after I shrieked (I was startled, startled I tell you, NOT SCARED, just…startled) I immediately ripped my shirt and bra off and shook the poor gecko out onto the floor, where the dogs immediately tried to catch him.

He hid under the table.

I took a shower and changed to clean pajamas, no bra required.

As for the gecko, I’m pretty sure he’s going to turn up under the dogs’ water bowl at some point.

Stupid hot December with temperatures in the 80s.

We still have geckos around because we still have mosquitoes.

Still.

On the First Day of Holidailies (2012)

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Caribbean Christmas

If there were a way I could blog from my bathtub – while it’s actually full of lovely hot water and bubbles and surrounded by glowing scented candles – I totally would. Instead, it’s 1:30 in the morning, which makes it, technically the second day of Holidailies, but since I haven’t actually been to bed yet, I figure we’ll call it day one despite the insistence of the clock and the calendar. (Besides, it’s still December 1st in California, which is where I lived when I began blogging in the first place, and so what if I’ve been in Texas for eight years now.)

(As an aside, this is longest I’ve ever lived anywhere in my entire LIFE, and I keep getting the itch to move every two years, but then I look around at all our masses of stuff, and think, “Until I’m rich enough to ditch everything and start from scratch, there’s no way I’m moving again.”)

I haven’t been blogging much. Still. Again. Lately.

Whatever.

I’ve been writing words upon words upon even more words, but…blogging. Not so much.

It’s not that I don’t want to.

It’s that, by the end of the day, if it comes to a choice between “soak in the bathtub and drink tea (or wine) while reading a book” or “blog about the fact that I’m not in the tub,” the former kind of wins.

But it’s December. It’s HOLIDAILIES. I’ve seen some of my favorite bloggers already posting their stuff – bloggers who, like me, used to be religious about posting and now make it an occasional thing. Bloggers I’ve been reading – at least in December – for, well, eight years? More for some. Less for others. But…yeah.

I don’t really feel Christmassy yet, I think because the weather is so disgustingly warm – unseasonably so, even for here – but I’m hoping Holidailies will help me.

So…Happy Holidailies from the Bathtub Mermaid, MissMeliss.

Happy Holidailies

Lost and Found

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So, I have a new cousin.

Well, not a new cousin. She’s thirty-five.

A new-to-me cousin.

I don’t want to ‘out’ her by mentioning her name, and her story isn’t mine to tell, either, but we’ve exchanged texts and become Facebook friends, and hopefully in a few days when things are a bit less overwhelming, we’ll get to actually talk, because she seems like a neat person, and as someone who is (biologically) an ‘only’ child, I have a special fondness for finding family members.

So, my message to her was just to welcome her to my crazy, smart, diverse, stubborn, loving family.

Of course, our family is not without its share of angst.

Whose is?

But I’m not part of the angst in this case, merely an outside observer, but today that distance, that detachment put me in the position of offering comfort and advice from someone from whom I’ve often sought solace for myself.

It’s odd, this role-reversal that happens as we get older. I sat down intending to write about all the strong women – both in my family, and in the greater world – that I’m privileged to know, and instead I find myself marveling about my own inner strength, and musing about paths untaken that I’m still considering.

I love that I find new things about myself and about the world every day.

And I love that lost and found don’t have to be opposites, because both conditions share a similarity: they represent change.

Thursday 13: Coasting

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Seaside Heights Roller Coaster After Sandy by Brian Thompson

I don’t know the name of the roller coaster at Seaside Heights, NJ that was washed to sea by Hurricane Sandy last week, but Brian Thompson’s image of the scene – framed by the storm-tossed timbers from the boardwalk itself – has been permanently etched onto my brain. I’ve spent a lot of time at boardwalk amusement parks and piers over the years, so, as a tribute to Seaside Heights, Asbury Park, Keansburg, and boardwalks elsewhere, my first Thursday 13 in months is a list of my favorites:

  1. The Galaxy, Asbury Park, NJ: The first coaster I ever encountered, long since dismantled, but living on in my memory.
  2. The Giant Dipper, Santa Cruz, CA: One of the last remaining wooden roller coasters still in operation. The front gives the best view of the water, the back gives the joltiest ride.
  3. The Wildcat, Keansburg, NJ: Modern-ish, with corkscrews and such, but amazing night lighting.
  4. The Giant Dipper, Belmont Park (San Diego), CA: Another version of the coaster at Santa Cruz, further down the coast. Built in 1925 and recently restored.
  5. The Hurricane, Santa Cruz, CA: This coaster was the scarier of the two at Santa Cruz’s boardwalk, but 2012 was it’s last year in operation. It’s being replaced in 2013 by a spinning coaster called the Undertow.
  6. The Great White, Wildwood, NJ: Another wooden coaster, though technically it’s wood and steel. Classic coaster.
  7. The Cyclone, Luna Park, Coney Island, NY: Probably the most iconic boardwalk roller coaster in American history.
  8. Galaxi Coaster, Palace Playland, Portland, ME: Italian made steel coaster with a minimum height requirement of 42 inches even if you’re riding with a parent.
  9. Boardwalk Bullet, Kemah Boardwalk, Galveston, TX: A classic wooden coaster in a warm-weather locale. Everything really is bigger in Texas.
  10. Rolling Thunder, Six Flags Great Adventure, Jackson, NJ: Okay, technically, this isn’t a boardwalk coaster, but it’s in New Jersey, so I’m counting it because it was the first BIG coaster I ever rode.
  11. The Swamp Fox, Family Kingdom, Myrtle Beach, SC: Another classic wooden coaster (you find these a lot at boardwalks). I’ve not been on this one; it’s on my list.
  12. Looping Star, Ocean City, MD: Another on my list of must-do’s, this one’s in Maryland, and looks awesome.
  13. The West Coaster, Pacific Park, Santa Monica, CA: This is the only seaside coaster in LA, and it’s as iconic as the coasters in Asbury Park and Coney Island to folks from the left coast. If you remember the opening of Three’s Company you know this coaster.

Jersey Strong: Sandy Hook Lives

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Sandy Hook Sign by USNavy13@Instagram

Has it really been over a week since I’ve written anything here? I guess it has. I wish I could tell you that I’ve been off having grand adventures, but the reality is that I spent most of last week, except Halloween, watching coverage of Hurricane Sandy, first on The Weather Channel, and then via News 12 New Jersey, a cable channel that I could live-stream over my Google TV. Now, my mother and I share a love of weather movies and weather disaster films, and I do try not to buy into hype when there’s a real weather disaster, but Hurricane Sandy was personal for me, even though I was dry, warm, and safe here in Texas.

Why?

Because I was born in Ocean County, NJ at Fort Monmouth.
Because I spent the first four years of my life hearing the foghorn wafting over Sandy Hook.
Because every summer until I was thirteen, I stayed with my grandparents in Middletown, and went to the beach at Sandy Hook, Ocean Grove, and Avon-by-the-Sea.
Because the year I was nine, my mother and I lived in Ocean Grove, two blocks from the ocean.
Because when I was little Asbury Park still had a functioning amusement park (I loved the tilt-a-whirl and spinning teacups), and I’ve been to Seaside Heights more than once.
Because I remember walking up and down the piers of the Atlantic Highlands yacht harbor before going to my cousin’s diner for rice pudding.
Because Sandy Hook, and Fort Hancock (which is out on the Hook) are among my favorite placed on earth, and I have played in the bunkers, and climbed the lighthouse, and built sand castles and learned to swim in the salty blue ocean off those beaches.
Because I have family and friends, and friends who may as well be family who have spent the last week and a half bailing water out of their houses, not having heat, not having power, not having working water, because of Sandy, and now today’s snowstorm has some of them without power again.

Because even though I’ve lived in Colorado, California, South Dakota, California (again), and Texas, at heart I am, and always will be, a Jersey Girl, and Monmouth County will always be my truest home.

After the storm, I went out to Twitter and Instagram and Facebook, searching for images of the places I knew best, the places I loved, and the entry sign at the top of this post is just one of the images I found. It led me to the National Park Service’s Facebook Page for the Sandy Hook unit of Gateway Park Service (Sandy Hook, NJ; Jamaica Bay & Staten Island, NY) and there, I found images of Sandy Hook and Fort Hancock post-Hurricane Sandy.

The beaches are trashed. The parking lots are in disarray. The beach pavillions took serious damage. But the lighthouse still stands, the old houses of Officer’s Row are still there, the Coast Guard dock survived, and even though they’re technically off-limits and covered in poison ivy, future kids will still play in the old bunkers.

Sandy Hook Lives.
And New Jersey is small, but strong.

Evil Lives Again (Evil Dead Red Band Trailer)

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When we were at Dallas Comic-Con Fan Days on Saturday, we had close-up seats for Bruce Campbell’s Q&A, and one of the tasty treats he brought for his fans was the short trailer for the remake of Evil Dead. (He’s not in it, but he’s co-producing, so consider it sanctioned – would he be promoting it if he didn’t approve?)

Today, of course, the OFFICIAL trailer was released – the “Evil Dead Red Band” trailer. You can see it on IGN or YouTube, but, because I’m really, really nice. (And because I’m re-embracing the love of horror I had as a teenager and sort of stifled as an adult) I’m sharing it here.

Warnings? Hell, yeah. Not Safe for Work, Not Appropriate for Viewers Under 17, Those Who are Squeamish, or Those Who Hate Violence and Gore.

For everyone else? ENJOY: