Wednesday, November 26, 2008

Happy Fangsgiving

A Vampire's Thanksgiving

by Anj


She went to the door after the second ring of the bell, expecting her boyfriend, but instead she found a thin stick of a boy she didn't recognize. He was about twelve, thirteen at most, and pretty weird looking, with ghostly pale skin, white hair that hung past his hips, and shining red eyes. His tattered jeans and filthy tennis shoes seemed at odds with his crisp, new-looking southwestern print hoodie. He smiled as though he could see right through her, mumbling, "You look just like her," as he slowly trailed his gaze down her body.

She blocked the doorway, wondering what a child was doing out this late. "Was there an accident? You need a phone?"

"No. I'm here to visit your mother."

She leaned back inside and shouted up the stairs, "Mom! There's an albino kid here to see you!"

Her mother didn't answer. She trotted over to the bottom of the stairs and yelled louder, "Mom!" She glanced back at the kid, who stood in the doorway, studying her with that strange disconcerting smile on his face. Was he on something? Those glazed eyes and that freakishly intense, yet somehow dazed, expression on his face would seem to indicate yes.

But there was nothing to him. He didn't look strong enough to carry a twelve-pack of pop five yards. If he tried anything, she was sure she could take him. "Why are you standing there letting all the heat out?"

"I can't come in unless you invite me."

She scoffed in the back of her throat. "What are you a vampire or something?"

"Yes." He grinned. His teeth did look a little sharp.

Still, that was crazy. No, he was just some nut. Probably one of her mother's "special" students. "Whatever. Come in and close the door. My folks will freak if the heating bill is any higher this month." She turned again to the stairway. "Mom!"

She faced the kid again as the door clicked closed. He stood very still in the middle of the room, hands tucked into the large pocket on the front of the hoodie. She wished he'd stop smiling like that. It made her faintly queasy. She wished she hadn't let him in.

Finally her mother appeared at the top of the stairs. "What is it?"

The girl pointed at the freak. "This kid came to see you."

Her mother furrowed her brow for a moment, then her eyes widened. "Oh. My." She cleared her throat as she descended. "How have you been?"

"Surviving." There was a faint edge of amusement to the boy's voice. "You?"

"Fine." She looked at her daughter. "Weren't you going to the midnight movie?"

"My ride's not here yet."

"Why don't you wait outside?" Her mother sounded faintly anxious, underneath a failed attempt to appear calm.

"Maybe I shouldn't leave you alone with . . ."

"We'll be fine. Go outside."

Lights flashed in the window, and a car pulled into the driveway.

Her mother smiled. "There he is. Go on."

The girl took her jacket from the middle peg of the rack. "Maybe I should skip the movie . . ."

Her mother shooed her with both hands. "Go on. Don't keep him waiting."

"Will you be here when I get back?" She really wished her other mom wasn't out of town tonight.

Her mother nodded. "I expect so."

She barely refrained herself from asking, "Will you be alive?" Instead, she stepped close to her mother and whispered, "I shouldn't have let him in, should I?"

"It's okay. Scoot, now. Have fun."

Fat chance of that. But she let her mother push her out the door. The click of the lock between them echoed with finality.

* * * * *


She looked at the boy, feeling the tug of nostalgia, tainted with regret. He had not aged visibly in thirty years. She tried to remember how he'd looked when he'd been human. The boy next door, her playmate since preschool. Curly red hair, like copper coils. Green eyes. Freckles spangled across his pink nose and cheeks.

No trace of freckles on that eggshell white face now.

It was her fault he'd been taken. She wondered if regarded her with blame or gratitude.

"She looks so much like you." He nodded toward the door.

"You think so?" She shook her head. "I expect she'll have her boyfriend drive her around the block, then drop her off so she can spy on us. I think she's worried."

"Of course she is. I told her what I am."

"Ah."

"I watch you sometimes."

"Oh?"

"My family is gone, so you're the one I . . ." For the first time, his composure broke. He hunched his shoulders slightly and looked at the floor. "I used to pretend you were my sister. Now . . . you're all grown up, and I . . . I pretend you're my aunt, now."

"It must be very lonely for you." She wondered where he lived. How he lived. She remembered seeing him in the cemetery once, years ago, perched between the grotesques on the roof of the mausoleum. Was that his home?

Well, then. While he'd been hiding in a graveyard, she'd had a good life. The kind of life he could never enjoy. She owed him. She understood.

She embraced him tenderly. Cupping her hand on the back of his head, she pressed his face to her throat. Might as well get it over with.

His cold lips pressed on the side of her neck. She felt the cool, clammy moisture as he opened his mouth. His fangs scraped lightly over her jugular.

Then he stepped away. She'd never felt a prick. She touched her neck, then checked her fingertips. No blood.

He tucked one hand back into the hoodie pocket. "I don't feed on people. I never have." He pointed vaguely to the north. "I go to that big farm outside town. The cows are marked with numbered ear tags, so I can make sure I'm not taking from the same ones too often."

"Oh." Embarrassment washed over her like a hot flash.

"You have a live turkey in your back yard."

She nodded. "That's for tomorrow . . . oh!" She understood, for real this time. He was here for dinner after all.

She took his hand and led him through the house, out the back door.

He glanced up at her, smiling broadly. His red eyes glowed softly. "Is it the right day yet?"

She glanced at her luminescent watch. "Two minutes after midnight."

He rubbed his hands together. "May I?"

She gestured toward the small wire enclosure with the turkey. "Drain it dry." As he pulled open the fence, she added, "Happy Thanksgiving."

Thursday, November 13, 2008

Scrutinizing My Wellness

I'm beginning an experiment today. Don't know if I'll have the wherewithall to stick with it long term. But I keep saying, "I need to cut back on lattes. I need to stop getting candy bars and chips from the vending machine. I need to exercise regularly. I need to this, that, and th'other." And I never manage to ditch the bad habits or stick with the good ones. But I'm sick and tired of feeling sick and tired, so I'm going to document everything in an attempt to shame myself into living better.

The Rules

1) Write down everything I eat or drink.
-- Water is exempt--no calories.

2) Write down all exercise.
-- Pacing around my apartment and playing on the Wii do not count as exercise, unless I acquire Wii Fit.

3) Write down creative activities (mental exercise).

4) Keep track of money spent.

5) Write down anything else that seems relevant to my well-being.

6) Document my general health and physical complaints, including any medicine taken.

Don't worry, I won't blog my diet or exercise record. No one cares but me. I'm only posting the rules in case any of you want to play along.

Saturday, November 08, 2008

PWF?

Mom and I drove to Kansas on Thursday for the heartbreaking funeral of a wonderful cousin who was only 40 and left us far too soon.

Along the way, we missed a turn at Beatrice, Nebraska. In an attempt to get back on a road that lead to Fairbury, we ended up on a little rural highway that didn't seem to have a name. It was only labeled "PWF." We never saw any clues as to what this might mean, and I haven't had much luck with Google. The road was paved, but narrow and shoulderless. Most of it was still the old pink pavement (which is getting pretty rare), much patched with cement and asphalt. We were on this road for a good thirty miles, and we only encountered seven other vehicles, including the guy driving his combine in the corn field. It was the ultra-scenic route. Compared with the interstate, which is so high up, with such wide shoulders and ditches, on a road like this, everything seemed so very close. And it really was beautiful, with all the reds and golds across the landscape.

So, anyone out there know what PWF stands for? "Public Way to Fairbury"? "Pretty Weird and Far-out"? "People With Farms"? Actually, I'd like to know the real meaning, but I welcome humorous guesses, too.

Quasi-related, we also saw a blue water tower labled "Little Blue NRD." Now I know NRD stands for Nebraska Rural District, but for all the world it looked like "Little Blue Nerd."

Addendum 11/11/08: My mom found it: Public Works & Facilities. That's not nearly as interesting as I'd hoped, but there it is.

Addendum 1/8/09: A kind Fairbury native (kjvaughn) corrected me. PWF stands for "Pawnee City, Wymore, Fairbury," the three towns connected by that road. Locals, however, say it means "Poorest Way to Fairbury."

Thursday, October 30, 2008

Wyvern

Here is a little wyvern I sculpted for my Dad's birthday present. Instead of rearing perfectly upright as I had intended, gravity took its toll on the heavy wings during baking. When the clay softened up in the heat, the wyvern leaned back, and now that it's cool, it's permanent. To restore the wyvern to its intended posture, it must be perched with its tail propped up on something (such as this crystal). The silver burned a little in the oven (despite the fact that I baked it for the minimum recommended time), which is why the tips of the spikes and wings are just a bit brown. Actually, I think the discoloration is an enhancement in this case. Overall, this critter came out all right. I like the way the face turned out. I used BBs for the eyes, which is why they gleam so nice.

Saturday, August 30, 2008

Ultimate Prinny

I've been playing a lot of Disgaea 2: Cursed Memories lately. Why would I need new games when certain old games have so incredibly much replay value? Anyway, I felt inspired to draw a comic, because prinnies have such a harsh lot in life.

Warning: If you've never played any of the Disgaea games, this comic will make no sense.

You might have to click on it to get it to display at full size.



Oh, and of course, Disgaea 2: Cursed Memories and all characters and settings therein are property of Nippon Ichi Software. I do not claim any rights. This is just fanart. Please don't sue me. I have no money.

Wednesday, August 27, 2008

Monster Cat

If you at all follow the news about weird and odd things, you've probably seen the pictures of Yoda, the four-eared cat. He's quite adorable.



A few years ago, pictures ciruclated of Lilly, another four-eared cat.



A friend and I were discussing these, and she said, "They look so alien or Pokemon. You almost expect them to have extra limbs, a prehensile tail, forked tongue or something."

And so, I had to draw it.



Disclaimer: This picture in no way implies that I think four-eared cats are monsters! I made my creature a tabby specifically to avoid having it look like Yoda or Lilly. As with polydactyl cats (extra toes or "thumbs"), four-eared cats have a naturally occurring mutation that probably doesn't much impede their ability to have long and healthy lives. My picture is pure, over-the-top fantasy, because I like fantastic beasts and aliens, nothing more.

Sunday, July 27, 2008

Branson, Missouri

Still catching up on events I never got around to blogging at the time . . .

Warning: this is a long post.

From June 29 through July 6, I took a wonderful vacation to Branson, Missouri, with my family (Mom, stepfather, stepsister, her husband, and their twins). They'd all been before, but this was my first time.

We stayed at a resort right on Table Rock Lake. The scenery was incredibly beautiful, although the water levels are extremely high. At that time, the lake was 13 feet above normal, which meant all the islands were submerged, with only the tops of trees sticking up like tufts. Boaters had trouble because they couldn't anchor--the ropes weren't long enough. Also, fishing was bad because the fish had so many more places to hide.




At the State Park Marina, the flooding goes well into the parking lot. The handicapped parking spaces were submerged halfway up the signs. The public telephone was almost completely under water, as were several park benches. Several of the docks were inaccessible because they were completely cut off from shore. The main dock had several extensions chained together to reach dry land.



We had quite a few thunderstorms come across the lake, especially later in the week. On the worst day, July 3, the weather started out hot and humid, but pleasant. After a while, I heard distant thunder, and the skies clouded. Then the storm swept across Table Rock Lake very, very swiftly. First the wind picked up, and whitecaps began to form on the water. All the boats, except for one houseboat, hightailed it for the harbor. Then in the distance, I could see rain on the hills. When it hit the water, a sharp white line crossed the lake. Everything behind the line was a mass of indistinct gray. Ahead of the line, the waves kicked up higher and higher. Then the wind hit us, just head of the rain. Our screened-in balcony was drenched in seconds. The fake potted tree blew over. Looking out the window, I watched that houseboat blow hundreds of feet from where it had been parked, then evidently the people inside woke up and got the motor started, and they began to very slowly creep against the wind. I can't imagine how terrifying it must have been for them to be out on the lake in those conditions.


I went out in the boat on one of the nicer days. We went all over the lake, stopping in several places. I got out to swim twice. Keep in mind that I do not swim. I flounder about. But the life jacket kept me afloat, and I had fun splashing and floating around. I went tubing, towed behind the boat. It was my first time doing anything like that. It was fun and exciting, but I got a lot of water in my eyes and I bruised the bejezzus out of my knee bouncing on the waves.

The trees were very different than we have around Nebraska. I wasn't familiar with most of the species. Seeing mile after mile of verdant, thick, impenetrable forest was absolutely breathtaking. So many of the trees have sheaths of vines wound around them, completely obscuring any bark on the trunks or branches.

For a great view, go to Inspiration Tower and ride the glass elevator to the top floor, a glassed-in observation deck. By stairs, you can also go one level down, to an open air deck. You can see all of Branson, all of Table Rock Lake, and Ozarks as far as the eye can see. What a spectacular view.


The Ozarks are full of rock formations jutting from the land, some natural, others blasted out to make room for roads. The ground was so saturated that water was seeping from the cracks between the stones, so it looked like the cliffs were weeping.


Saw a lot of turkey vultures. They're everywhere! And I mean everywhere. I don't think I ever looked into the sky without seeing a vulture, or typically several of them, circling over some point in the distance.


My second most frequent bird sighting was the great blue heron. Every day, I saw several of them at Table Rock Lake. They travel singly, and they are majestic as they fly low and strong near the surface of the water, crossing the vast lake. One morning, sitting out on the balcony with my coffee, I saw a great blue heron fly by very close. This sighting was unusual because had his neck stretched all the way out so he could croak his creaky cry. Incredibly cool! It sounded prehistoric, like I imagine a pterosaur might have sounded. When he finished talking, he pulled his neck back to normal flight position.

There is a lot to do in Branson. It's kind of scary to think that the actual population of the town is barely over 6,000, but the city has 18,000 hotel rooms available. And unlike business travelers who tend to be solo, a touristy place like this attracts couples and families, so rarely would any of those rooms have only one person staying in them. So you could conceivably have six or more tourists to every resident at any given time. I suspect tourism is the town's only industry. But they do it well. It was tremendous fun.


The Shepherd of the Hills Fish Hatchery was pretty cool, and had the added benefit of being free. They have a nice little nature center with live snakes, turtles, and, of course, fish. The runways outside are full of trout. Nerd that I am, I love seeing how stuff works, so seeing the fish farming operation was pretty cool for me. We also saw a young beaver running through the hatchery. He obviously knew where he was going, since he trotted up the hill then ducked under the fence.

Another worthy find was The Fish House, a restaurant in downtown Branson at the end of the Branson Landing shopping area. It's down on the river itself, not visible from the road. You can't see it except from the Bass Pro Shop parking lot. The decor was hunter-rustic, with canoes hanging from the ceiling; mounted fish, animals, and antlers on the walls; and artificially distressed wood and metal furnishings. The mounted heads included everything from a boar to a moose. Their fish, of course, was excellent, but the kicker for me was the jalapeno corn bread that came with every meal. They brought it out piping hot from the oven, still in the small cast-iron skillet it was baked in. It was absolutely fantastic, and the jalapeno was not overwhelming--just a little zingy. Heaven!


Also at Branson Landing, every hour on the hour, they have a show at the fountain. A series of fountain jets shoot high into the air in patterns timed to the music piping from the loudspeakers. Behind the water jets, a series of fire jets punctuate the music with flame spurts. The fountain jets were occasionally augmented by popping blasts of air that shot the water extra high. It was only ten minutes long, but well worth it. Very, very neat.

Branson Landing is otherwise not that exciting, unless you love to shop. The majority of the stores were major chains that I expect to see in any mall, so that seemed pretty boring to me. I'd rather go to places I can't find around home.

Besides the Fish House, the other restaurant I'd strongly recommend to anyone visiting the area is on the campus of the College of the Ozarks. Students at the college pay no tuition, but they are required to work on campus. So the restaurant is staffed entirely by students in white coats and black ties. The decor is all wood, copper, and stone--very classy and well built. The food was excellent. I had the special of the day, a cajun ribeye sandwich on ciabata bread. Fantastically wonderful. Creme brulee for desert.


But the single best meal I had wasn't in a restaurant. On our last day there, the fish were finally biting. The guys wanted to stay out longer, but the lightning crashing down all around the lake forced them to come in. But they brought with them a large, beautiful black bass. Within minutes, the bass was in the frying pan with a little butter and a light dusting of crumbled crackers. Oh. My. God. It is no stretch to say that was the best fish I've ever tasted. Certainly the freshest, but also so tender, yet firm; succulent, with a gentle, mild flavor; savory and just a touch salty from the butter and cracker, and a hint of underlying sweetness. Absolutely amazing.

Another activity I'd recommend is the Veterans Memorial Museum. They had artifacts from every 20th century war, labeled with not only a description of the object but some history about the soldier who had owned it or donated it to the museum. Among the many interesting things was a display of "trench art," which soldiers had made from spent shell casings.



The centerpiece of the museum was a life-sized bronze sculpture by Fred Hoppe. Fifty soldiers from World War II charging forward, two by two. Each soldier's face was modeled on a real American who had fought in the war, one from each state, their names inscribed on brass plaques by their feet. The level of detail was phenomenal. Not only their faces, but their physical builds, their gear, their weapons--every soldier was truly an individual. Some were carrying specialized equipment. Some were missing the knives or shovels from their packs. If you looked closely, under the feet of the running men was a small, unexploded shell. Elsewhere in the line, one of the soldiers had just been shot, captured at the moment of death with his knees buckled, his back arched, and his face slack. His rifle hung suspended mid-air as it dropped from his limp hands, and his buddy reached over to catch him. The sculpture was powerful, and the subjects very human. This was not merely a statute of some random soldiers, but truly real men. One of the best memorials I have ever seen.


Branson is most famous for all the live entertainment. I went to two shows. The first was Noah: the Musical, at the Sight & Sound Theater. The animals, both live and animatronic, were pretty cool. The set was absolutely amazing, with the inside of the ark wrapping around the sides of the theater. We were right in the middle, so we had a fantastic view. The performers were enthusiastic and had good, strong voices. Unfortunately, the script was kind of cheesy and glurgy, and the score very forgettable. Yes, I know its an adaptation of a Biblical story, but it was excessively heavyhanded and preachy. They brought Jesus Christ into it at the end. The story of Noah is important to other religions, too, but they made this an exclusively Christian version. Which is fine, since the Sight & Sound people's expressly stated mission is spreading Christianity, so it's not likely that anyone who wasn't already a Christian would even go to that theater. But the play was too long. The boys (age 10) got bored. And while I liked the giants in the corrupt city, with their voice amplifiers, dreadlocks, and log-like legs concealing stilts, I don't remember any giants in the Biblical account of that particular event.


The theater itself was enormous and fancy, very elaborate and lavishly decorated. However, the paintings and sculptures all seemed a little off. The proportions, expressions, and poses were not realistic. So it seemed pretentious but not polished. I probably wouldn't go to another Sight & Sound show.

The other show I went to was the magician Justin Flom at the Imaginary Theater. He is apparently one of the newer acts in Branson, so he doesn't have his own theater yet. His theater is a small section of a former steak house that also houses a museum and probably some other things. The building is large, old, and very elegant.

Justin Flom's magic show was tremendous fun. I saw the seams on one or two of his tricks, and could probably replicate them with the right equipment, but for the most part, the magic was, well, magic. He put a woman in a box, cut the box into pieces, and she waved out of a tiny hole from a small piece of the box. Of course, he reassembled her so he could put her in a different box, then fold it down to the size of a milk crate and run it through with swords. Then later, he put her in yet another box and ran her through with spikes. These kinds of illusions, I can't figure out. The card tricks likewise were very impressive, as was the levitation.

He was really nerdy in a charming, self-depreciating sort of way. His enthusiasm and energy were on par with a golden retriever puppy, in other words, boundless. And best of all, he picked both my mom and my stepfather out of the audience on separate occasions. He made a mouse appear out of a box of cards for Mom, and then asked if she liked the magic tricks with the big white tigers. When she said yes, he replied, "That's good. We're going to do a card trick. We're on a budget." He had Mom pick a card out of the deck, write her name on it, then he shuffled it many ways, and in the end, the one card that was reversed was of course the one she'd written her name on. He let her keep it.

When he called up my stepfather, he did a rope trick with a sliding knot. The trick itself was pretty transparent. I could probably do it myself without any additional instruction. But it was hilarious watching him put different wigs on my stepdad and asking him to dance like particular popular singers, from Stevie Wonder through Michael Jackson. My stepdad doesn't dance, and his knees are bad, so he wasn't able to mimic the moves. The magician commented that it looked like my stepdad was doing Stevie Wonder no matter which singer's name he was given.

Anyway, the magic show was awesome. Well worth the time. Flom is very young, so he'll only get better. I hope he makes it big, so I can say, "I saw his show back when . . ."

Really, I can say only two bad things about the whole trip:

Wasps everywhere around the resort. No one got stung, but my stepsister is allergic, so that was a real worry.

Brown recluse spiders. In my bed. In my stepsister's bed. On the ceiling above my mom's bed.

Shudder.

But I think the wonderful things about the trip outweighed the multiple incidents of spider panic.

But since I'm a home-body by nature, I was glad to return home to my kitties. I could tell they missed me, too. After I took my dirty laundry out of my bag and carried it down to the laundry room, when I came back upstairs, I found a green mouse cat toy in my bag. It had to have been Murphy's way of telling me, "I'm here. Don't leave me again."