Macabre Movie Month

Well, it's October and we know what that means: apple-picking, fall festivals, and crisp nights. At least, that’s what October means to all of us, but October has another special meaning to me. It’ll mark our 8th anniversary of being together (yay!). But there is another significance…a dark significance.

Yes, it’s that time again- time for scary movie month.

Ugh.

I feel as uneasy as I do when I’m being pushed along onto a roller coaster (another activity that I try to be a good sport for).

And while I have already gone through all the anxiety I feel in a post last year, I must mention how this year’s scary movie month is going.

Day 1, Movie 1: “Warlock”

Joe scrolled through the Netflix listings and stopped on this one, claiming “it’s a pretty cheesy 80’s movie about a warlock that comes to modern times.”

Cheesy? 80s? How bad could that be?

All in all, it wasn’t terribly scary OR gory, but instead, it was just kinda disturbing (and I don’t care if that makes me a contender for “Biggest Wuss”). Tongues being torn out, eyes being gouged out, children being butchered- yeah, where the hell was the cheese factor- besides the Warlock’s blonde Nelson-like ponytail.

Needless to say, I had a rough time at bedtime because every time I closed my eyes my torturous brain would conjure up one of those more hideous scenes for my reviewing pleasure.

Day 2, Movie 2: “Black Death”

“Black Death”. Similarly to the previous night’s movie, “Warlock”, this one had a religious connotation, which at first intrigued me. And plus the fact that it was based around the Black Plague, and therefore has a historical angle, I figured it wouldn’t be too bad.

I may have escaped ghouls and monsters, but instead I got buckets of realistic gore. I can handle gun shot wounds for the most part. I even handle sword-fighting pretty well.

The two things that make me most queasy are 1.) Guts and 2.) Violence towards women and/or children. And bingo! I got both.

It’s supposed to be centered around the plague that demolished 2/3rds of the European population, but instead it was more about witch-hunting and torture.
I sat there with a pillow over my mouth, and very vocally exclaiming, “no…no..no.no..no.non NO! OOOOH GOD!”

Meanwhile, Joe, content as you please, sat silently watching, unfazed.

I know that I should just be a good sport about it all. I mean, after all, I torture him with the televising shows I love or movies I suggest, so I should muster up enough courage to get through one lousy month of scary movies, right?

Fortunately October is also one of our more busy months, with lots of things to do, so if just happen we miss a day or week or two, he can’t be that mad…..right?

Ghosts of Halloweens Passed

WTF, I hate how the damn cursor on this laptop occasionally becomes possessed and takes it upon itself to suddenly scroll all the way down the screen. Or else is mysteriously clicks on the wrong shortcut link in the search and then takes forever before I can change it to the right one. Ugh.

Anyway, enough of that blathering. My nose is drippy, my throat is dry and coughy, and I'm carefully dangling my feet away from the (still) wet urine spot from Georgia's newest accident on the rug, so I'm gonna try to keep this one brief.

My sweet and loyal cousin reminded me that telling stories about our family would sustain this blog for years, so since I hadn't any other ideas in mind for tonight, I'll go for one of those. And since it is almost Halloween, I thought I'd offer some of my favorite Halloween memories from my youth.

Despite the fact that I'm a total wuss when it comes to scary things, I actually really love Halloween. It's the holiday that holds some of my favorite childhood moments. Ones that still brings a smile to my face are the choices of costume I made every year. Thanks to my mom's genius behind a sewing machine, alot of my costumes were homemade, and we aren't just talking witches and ghosts. The most interesting costume she ever made was a large shiny red Coke can costume which my sisters and I all took turns wearing at one point or another. Why someone wanted to be a Coke can, I have no idea, but it made for some interesting pictures (and guessing games as to what we were). My favorite costume, however, was my very dapper, very cheerful, very hot-pink, flamingo costume. No, not flamenco...flamingo. I had a faze where I was obsessed with these birds. So much so, apparently, that I had to be one. Any psychiatry fans wanna take a crack at that one?

The other great thing about Halloween for me was the tradition in all of it. Every year, from kindergarten to 8th grade, our elementary school would close classes early, gather together by grade, and then march around our town. Now, I come from a pretty tiny town so it wasn't a huge deal. But it was still pretty exciting to us; walking around main street with our parents and family members crowding the sidewalks waving their hands excitedly and waiting for the perfect shot with their cameras. We eventually walked all the way back to the school where all the students milled about excitedly as they announced the winners of the best costumes in each grade. Every year I felt my heart bob with a little hope that I might be called, but every year I was passed over. I mean, what were they thinking...I was a flamingo princess, people! Can't get more unique than that. It didn't matter because after that the trick-or-treating began.

My friends and I always knew which houses to hit and which to not bother. We had a strict curfew in town so it was like a limited candy-spree. We dodged to this house of that, sometimes splitting up to see which houses delivered what. The best trick-or-treat house was Mrs. Sague's. She was known to not only have name-brand stuff, but the actual regular sized. She was (or is, I guess) such a nice woman and I always got upset when I heard that some asses would egg her house or put toilet paper in her trees during mischief night. Some people are assholes even in youth.

Of course, once the timer had gone off (a.k.a. it was officially nighttime), we all went back to our respective houses. Now it became all business. For a few special years my sisters and I were all of the age of not just trick-or-treating, but trick-or-trading. As soon as we had all come home we'd go into one room pour out our loot, begin categorizing it in terms of value, and begin the trade-off. Wall Street has never seen such dedication and determination. I'm even fairly certain Beck had even come over once or twice for these candy transactions. And actually, it was with Beck that I had one of my favorite specific Halloween memories.

One year I had decided to visit my cousin in her town, which was right next to ours, to do some last-minute trick or treating there. I think it maybe was because they had an extra hour or something, but in any event I showed up at her house, along with a few of her schoolmates. We began seriously trying to get whatever last minute trick-or-treating we could done, but eventually we were all content with just walking around the dark town all by ourselves, chatting and feeling as if the night and town was for us. I don't remember how, but suddenly we all began singing Christmas carols. We must have been quite the sight; witches, pirates, or whatever else we were dressed as loudly singing "I'm Dreaming of a White Christmas" in October.

I've had plenty more pleasant Halloween memories, one of which was when I met Joe. But since we have some time still till Halloween (and since this baby is getting lengthy), I'll leave you with those for now. Until tomorrow friends!

Octoberfest

Yuck, what a miserable Monday. Not that it was particularly bad, but weather-wise, it's pretty dismal: cold, rainy, dark. We seemed to have completely skipped over Indian Summer and fell right into early winter. But I think it's supposed to warm up a tad, so maybe we can dry ourselves off.

So since I can't think of a particular topic, Ill just dive into a weekend wrap-up...

We are finally into October (where the hell did September go??), but actually I really like this month. There are so many events to look forward to: Fells Point Fest, Renaissance Fest, a visit to Gettysburg, Hershey After Dark, going apple and pumpkin picking, our anniversary, etc. It's because of these annual events that I love this month so much. Joe, on the other hand, loves it because this is the month where he gets to torture me with horror movies, the only month out of the year I agree to watch them.

True to form, Joe was practically counting down the days till it was finally October and sure enough as soon as Friday rolled around, off we went to the movies. At first we stopped by Chilis for dinner but since the wait was pretty long we decided to go to the movies to get the tickets first and then come back. As Joe ran inside to get the tickets (and I quietly hoped that the movie would be sold out all opening night) I peered up at the other titles on the marquee. It was a surreal feeling. I didn't recognize 90% of the movie titles, and the ones I had heard of were simply because of passing billboards or Internet ads. I mentioned this to Joe as he jogged back to the car, victorious with two tickets in his hand (damnit).

"Well, yeah. We aren't being drilled with the information anymore." It's one of those oddities I hadn't expected when I gave up television.

Anyway, dinner was good (even tho we were late to be called) and actually the movie wasn't horrible. It definitely had its horrific moments, but it's storyline was unique and even...charming. I'm not saying I'd ever want to rent it, or even necessarily see it again, but at least it wasn't gore for gore's sake.

Saturday morning arrived and I was exhausted. It took me forever to finally get up and when I did it was because we were due to appear at our next October event, Fells Point Fun Fest. Now this is an event that we stumbled upon years ago after spending a boring afternoon trying to find something to do. We decided to just check out Fells Point for the day and happened upon rows of boutique stands and food vendors, art showcases and books for sale, and all about were hundreds of people, children, and dogs shopping and taking in the sights. We enjoyed ourselves so much that we made it a point to do it again the following year. And so we had for several years.

The one reason this year was to be so special was because we finally had a dog of our own to showcase and we were excited to let Georgia come along. So after spending a few minutes trying to get the dog prepared with her harness and leash we set off to meet up with Joe's friend Jeff and some mutual friends of theirs.

We had both been quite chilly in the morning so we erred on the side of caution by wearing sweaters and hoodies, thinking that it would be even cooler by the water. As we made our way from Little Italy to Fells Point, the sun was beating down on us directly. It wasn't long before we were trying to roll up our sleeves and cursing our clothing options.

But other than that the day was quite enjoyable. Georgia did surprisingly well meeting other dogs. Nervous, but not nippy or growly. It is weird though how you tend to take for granted your freedom without a dog. Georgia, still in her puppyhood, was pulling this way and that, stopping to sniff every butt or patch of grass she could, or else launching herself ahead to meet another dog. It was fine most of the time, however I became a bit more anxious when the crowd thickened and was forced to carry her some of the way.

In any event, the day was beautiful and after a few hours we headed home with the promise of mowing and weed-whacking the lawn on our lips, but as soon as I went upstairs, I was a goner, and promptly fell asleep.

Ok, I'll stop there to prevent this thing getting too long. Tomorrow: my battle with the weeds and my self esteem. Tune in.

Labor (of Love) Day

Happy End-of-Summer people. Yeah, I know it pisses me off, too. I'm really not ready for the summer to be over when it feels like we hardly had one. I think it was mostly because of all the moving we had to go through. Plus, having Georgia around has somehow made time fly. I actually can't believe I've been without television-watching for almost 3 months. But thankfully this past weekend I was given one last bout of summer fun..including a healthy dose of beach time, pool time, and family time. But it wouldn't be a visit up to see my family without plenty of drama--and a heaping helping of comedy as well.

Friday- Fearing both the onslaught of traffic and the supposed hurricane that was coming up the coastline, I awoke early and began packing the car up. The traffic and weather did worry me, but actually I was more worried about Georgia. I was intent on bringing her but I worried what she might do in the car for three hours. We had never had her in the car for that long and I feared she'd freak out after hour 2. She did climb back and forth for a little while, trying to sniff out the cracked windows in the back and then back in the front seat for me to pet her, but eventually she settled on the back seat..except when we came upon the toll booths. As if giving money for no apparent reason wasn't bad enough, but then with every booth we came upon Georgia started barking hysterically. I guess this sort of thing happens pretty often, b/c one woman had a little dog biscuit all ready to give to her.

Luckily there were no other hitches and I arrived in Jersey in good time. I was happy to see my sister who I hadn't seen in a while and later we were joined by my other sister who had brought all kinds of accessories for Georgia. Unfortunately my head was pounding so while they watched the remake of "Death at a Funeral" with my mom, I read and then fell asleep.

Saturday- If Friday's worries were about my drive up, then Saturday's was all about making sure Georgia didn't crap or pee in the house, so I was compelled to get up at our usual time, put the leash on her and take her out. When she finally did her business (which took a while and then her leash got caught on my thumb and burned itself into my flesh), we set off for the beach. We were all astonished at how empty the beach was, especially for Labor Day weekend. After getting whipped by sand and nearly impaled by runaway beach umbrellas, we finally called it quits, picked up my sister and headed over to a local seafood favorite for steamer clams and a good ol' cajoling "let's makeover Kris's life" session. When that was said and done Hill offered to pay for us to get our nails done. It was a nice treat except for when the guy put the acetone on my thumb and brushed it into my gaping open wound. I need bit right through my lip trying not to yelp in pain as it felt like he (that's right, a "he", which I thought was odd...even odder was that his nails were longer-and more manicured- than my own) poured fresh battery acid on my thumb.

We arrived home, all looking for a place of sanctuary. Because the dog insisted on whining whenever I left the room I felt I had to stay in the same confines she was subjected to. The problem was that my sisters were seeking out a place to relax as well, which, in our family, meant a place with a soft piece of furniture and t.v. In fact, I have never been more confronted with the folly of my decision to give up television by anyone as much as my own family members. No wonder I was such an addict. They all look at me as a bit of a failure, I think, or as someone seeking attention, which I don't agree with. It's like coming back to the crack house after you finally gave up the pipe (ok, maybe that's a bit of an exaggeration, but still. When I thought I would be met with a bunch of "good for yous" I got "what's wrong with you". Not that I can blame them. It's as unnatural for me to not watch t.v. as it is for me to be on time for something or knowing exactly what I want the second I'm asked).

Anyway, later on that night a big group of us were going to dinner at this other hidden Mexican restaurant gem called Agave. My family was the first to arrive, on time (shockingly) for the reservation. However, it seemed that not only were there no tables set up for us, there were hardly any tables left at all. The rest of the extended family, including my cousin Beck and her fiance, her parents, and my cousin Evan and his wife Kristen, arrived and we set about popping open some beer and wine and tailgating right outside the restaurant, waiting for someone or something to do something or happen. Finally, an hour later we were all seated. This was around 9:30. The restaurant closed at 10:00. Still, that didn't prevent the wait staff to take their ever-loving time to get the food out...nor did the loud-mouth kazoo-blowing drunk biotch party of 13 feel a rush to get out. But eventually both happened, almost miraculously. The food trickled out, two at a time, and by the time everyone had food in front of them, whether half eaten or still hot, at around 11:00. I wasn't even hungry and hardly remembered what I had ordered. Finally we came home and I collapsed on the sofa to sleep.

Sunday- The last day. I took the dog for a jog and then my mother and I went off to visit my nana and pop's pool. Their house is set on a high hill tucked away in the woods. My nana told me about how a deer was standing right outside the gate to the pool, and as my nana spoke to it, it raised it's head and stamped it's foot twice, like a scene from a Disney movie. Of course, these are also the same grandparents who had their own method of ridding their birdbaths and bird feeders of pesky squirrels by taking out a gun and blowing their heads off. I know...I've seen it. I'm not sure which was more disturbing...watching the squirrel writhe with a bullet in it's skull or the fact that my grandfather still had such good aim. We walked back up from the pool to see my pop, who informed us that a chipmunk had darted out from under the sofa and booked it out onto the screened porch. I swear, it's kind of a bizarro nature world up there, beautiful and brutal at the same time, with just a little humor thrown in.

Anyway, the rest of the night was pretty uneventful. I pretty much just ate dinner and went to bed, eager to once again get up early, pack up the car, and face whatever traffic and toll booth collectors we would.

Christ, this is a long entry. Sorry about that folks. I'm sure tomorrow's will be shorter, as I have no clue what I'll write about. Till then...

For Memorial Purposes

Since Memorial Day just passed (and I was too lazy to write anything yesterday) I'm going to use that as my theme for tonight. Although instead of just writing my thoughts on veterans or America, I thought I'd do something a little bit more personal mixed in with the basic principles associated with the military: teamwork, bravery, responsibility, and compassion.

I realized I am slowly entering that age where names and faces of my past are becoming fuzzy. The lines between what ACTUALLY happened and what I think are starting to disintegrate, and so in an effort to help my problem I am going to utilize this web-diary thing to jot down some memories so that they are forever documented (and hopefully if I can pin down these thoughts it will help to always anchor additional ones).

So, in the vein of remembering what our heroic soldiers stand for, here are the things I hope to always remember...

1. Coach/Mr. Ullmeyer- My cross-country coach. He might actually be the reason I started to think about this as a good topic. I was jogging the other day and still trying to remember the breathing techniques he taught me. Granted, I lasted for just the season, and was consistently bringing up the rear, it still felt awesome to be part of something (especially since my high school years mostly consisted of trying to evaporate into the background).

2. My sister calling me brave- I doubt she would remember this, but for some reason I never forgot (and hopefully now I really never will). On one of our many little family road trips, we went to a water park (most likely Dorney Park and Wildwater Kingdom). Anyway, as usual I put up a fight to go on any of the slides. I was (and still to this day) terrified of heights AND losing control so choosing to toss my slippery body down an even MORE slippery chute didn't really rank high on my To-Do list. However, being with my sisters I definitely wanted to keep up. And after a few I started to gain some confidence (once I figured that the bolts holding the tube in place weren't going to pop-out suddenly and send me 3 stories to the ground), I actually started to have fun. So much so that I VOLUNTEERED to go on the next big slide. Without hesitation I climbed to the top of the stairs and before I knew it I was careening back all the way to the pool below. Truthfully, I was a little scared when I felt myself lifting up due to some unexpected drops, but the fact that my big sister Hillary told me she was proud was well worth it.

3. Marshmallow- my pet bunny. There was a time when we were kids that we all decided we wanted our own pets. We loved our dog, Abby, but I guess her novelty began to wain (especially since she wasn't allowed upstairs, in the living room, OR family room). I can't remember who got theirs first, but Hillary had her pet bird, Iago, while Lindsay had Bernard the Hamster (and yes they are both characters from Disney movies--does that prove we were brainwashed or the fact that Hillary had over 20 Disney figurines in her room...or maybe that I used to watch the promotional video they sent us like an actual movie...yeah, you got us you evil evil corporation). Anyway, since they had their feathered and furry friends (and I was sick of flushing two-day old dead goldfish) my mother finally promised me a rabbit for my birthday. Before that time, however, we had some tragedies: Iago was found dead at the bottom of his cage one morning, while Bernard made a truly miraculous escape (only to be found alive in our neighbors garbage can while they were taking out the trash) but died a few days later--there's something very poignant about that, or maybe I'm still hung up on the Lost ending. Anyway, to soothe their pains (or just to butt in on MY thing) they got rabbits as well: Hillary's was a grey and white one she named Thumper (stick your royalties up your ass Disney). Lindsay's, a chocolate brown one, had a Prince/The Artist Formerly Known as Prince thing going on since she changed the name from Brownie to Fuzzhead every other week. Mine was simple- Marshmallow- named so b/c of her all white fur. When I first spotted her she looked one of those magician rabbits, yet she was so soft and fluffy she just reminded me of the white candy. Also, she had these crazy hot-pink eyes (which I guess means she was albino), which def sold me. I used to love to put her on my chest and stroke her while I was reading on our back porch during the summer. But as tends to happen, the reality of actually caring for an animal began to set in. We neglected them a bit and then one day my mom told me Marshmallow was sick. I was upset but didn't know what to do. I went out to stroke her from time to time, but to see her look so skittish and yellow (no longer the vibrant white) broke my heart so much I couldn't bear going out to see her. Finally, my mom came to pick me up from school one bright afternoon, and turned around in the driver's seat.


"Honey, Marshmallow died."

Of course I cried a bit, feeling not just the loss but a huge amount of guilt. I felt responsible for her death (ironically due to my irresponsibility). Lately I've been really pushing for us to get a dog, which makes me think alot about ol' Marshmallow. Hopefully the mistakes I made with her won't be repeated, but I'm sure the love will be.

4. Remembering to never judge a book...- There was a girl in high school named Julie Hoffmann that sat near me in French class. She had honey blond hair and always wore thick black eyeliner. She was new, so since there was an open seat near me Ms. Ennis assigned her there. We never spoke too much, only occasionally when she had to pass something to me or borrow a pencil. But when we did lightly chat I figured she was nice enough. As it turned out, she was also in my English class, though we sat further away. I noticed some kids chuckling and realized they were doing so at Julie. I felt awful, but being that I was pretty low on the social totum pole myself, I said nothing (I probably even joined in, knowing my cowardice). And when we found out that she had died suddenly in an awful car accident, I felt I could never really forgive myself. I tried to assuage my guilt thinking I never really knew her, so what was I supposed to do? I had that same laissez-faire attitude with another student at school. It was right after the Columbine tragedies and one student was accused of planning to harm the school. Wanting to appear under control while at the same time preventing any law suits we were unofficially given liberal leave, which many of us took advantage of--only to go to the nearest hang out and talk about who it was. I joined in, like a lemming off a cliff, into the badmouthing and criticizing. I thought I wouldn't think about it again until I actually met the guy, and realized how foolish I had been. We ended up having mutual friends and began to hang out once in a while. He is not only one of the most laid back yet passionate people I have ever met, he is also the bravest. He enlisted into the army and went overseas for long extended periods of time, often in frightening areas. It makes me sick to think how I could have been so close-minded and judgmental when I didn't even know what a tremendous guy he is. I have sadly lost touch with him since I moved to Baltimore, but I always think of him whenever I see the posters or commercials for the army...and wonder what lucky person is getting a lesson on acting or horror movie trivia from him.

There are tons of memories that I would like to lock up somewhere safe, but I figured this is a good start- and it goes along with the Memorial Day theme, don't you think?

If this one was a little on the depressing side, fear not. I had to get this one off my pathetically small chest, but I got a whole bag of crazy for youall. Until tomorrow then fan-a-reenos!