Celebrate Thanksgiving With Arlo

It's time for a Thanksgiving musical interlude.

After much careful deliberation (what with so many popular Thanksgiving songs to choose from), I went with the long, hilarious, intelligent Thanksgiving standard, Alice's Restaurant.

Right up there with Over The River and Through The Woods as the traditional Thanksgiving sing along, Alice's Restaurant has entertained Thanksgiving revelers since 1969.

So sit back for the next 20 minutes or so and enjoy this American masterpiece. My gift to you this Thanksgiving.  Enjoy!



Here's a great live version from 2005.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Rocketship Underwear- Reused.

Hi everybody. I'm running around like a maniac this week and with next week being the holiday I'll be in Mommy-Mode full time, so I may not be around much in the beautiful alternate reality of the internets. So I'm posting another re-run. This one from April of 2010. Time to get your rocketship underwear on!

I love the comic strip Calvin and Hobbes. It was inspired; creative, with a combination of great illustrations and wonderful writing. I remember this one where Calvin is flexing his little arms in front of a mirror wearing just underwear and his "I'm going to take on the world and win" grin. And he says something like, there's nothing like rocket ship underwear to make you feel invincible.

I have my version of rocket ship underwear on today. It's my new Chef Wong's tee shirt. Chef Wong's is a great Chinese restaurant in the area. The family ate there one fall day, and they had these shirts hanging on the wall for sale. The Man's back was to them, but I kept pestering him to look at them. The exchange went a little something like this.

Me - Check out that tee shirt. It's so cool!
Him - I will in a minute.
Me - But it's awesome. You have to check it out.
Him - I will in a minute.
Me - Seriously. It's the coolest ever. You have to look at it.
Him - Can I eat some General Tso's first?
Me - I guess. But you're looking after two bites

So the Man, smart man that he is, got the impression that I fancied the shirt. He got one for me for Christmas. He used it to wrap two dvds. Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon and Hero, so it was a total Kung Fu Christmas theme going on with that part of the gift.

We pause here for Ava's benefit since she can't say Kung Fu without hearing this in her head:



Okay. Now back to our regularly scheduled post.

So I'm wearing the Chef Wong shirt today. It's short sleeved, so I had to wait for nice weather to put it on. And let me tell you I put it on. Along with the whole rocket ship underwear attitude. Not even finding dog crap in my living room- that the offending dog stepped in and subsequently tracked around- could dampen my spirits. Now that is one magic tee shirt.



So I do have a bit of a tee shirt obsession. I'm currently waiting for just the right moment to bust out the Will Farrell "More Cow Bell" shirt for the season.

That's a tricky one. You have to know when the right unveiling time is for the warm weather. You don't want to do it too early and have to cover it with a sweatshirt. You run into dangerous territory if you try to contain that much awesomeness. Nuclear meltdown type stuff.

So, do you have any healthy obsessions? Any talismans that act like rocket ship underwear? Lay it on me!

Bratz- Precursors to the Alien Invasion

Flashback Sunday- Here's a peek at an old post from January 2013. I've got some doozies in my past, and figured some of you might get a kick out of one of my conspiracy theories. Enjoy!

It has long been my belief that Bratz were invented to smooth the way for a hostile alien invasion. Their rise in popularity will make the masses much more accepting of their new alien overlords.

Check out the similarities in their physical features.

pic from thehairpin.com

Note both possess the abnormally large slanted eyes. The lack of a definitive nose. The tiny body with huge head. Glam up this green one and you'd have a ringer. Wait, they already did that!

pic from the bestdolldress

So now they're beginning the subjugation of the younger generation through savvy toy marketing. You can tell they've done their homework. They know us well.

I of course, envision something like this happening in the very near future.

And have already begun programming my own urchins against the indoctrination of alien space invaders. Every time they see a Bratz or their equally evil counterparts from Monster High, they immediately say things like, "Eeeew, Mommy. Look! They're so ugly!"

And it makes my heart glow with paternal pride that I have given them the rudimentary defense against the impending alien invasion.

Writing And Music- It's Like . . .

Caramel and chocolate.

Summer and snow cones.

Motorcycles and beautiful days.

One makes the other even better. 

There have been many who have discussed music and writing. Most of the ones that I've come across talk about writing to music. That's something I can't do. I listen too intently to the music and get distracted from my writing. Probably because I have a musical background. (I've played the violin, piano and flute.) And I'm easily distracted. (Is that a rabbit over there?) 

Many authors create playlists of the songs that inspired their work. I find that I compile soundtracks to complement my scenes. For example in chapter two of A Shot At Forever, as the heroine approaches her marks for the night, I know that 8-Ball, by Seasick Steve is playing in the background of the honkytonk.



(I highly recommend Seasick Steve. His album Walkin Man is outstanding.)

Now that you know the song, here's the scene.


-->

Chapter 2

            "Well now, is this a boys only club, or can any gal get in on the shots?" With just the right amount of sass, Sheridan threw her question out to the men standing around the pool table.

Her boot heels clicked across the worn wooden floor as she approached the cowboys she’d been casing for almost an hour. When they turned to face her, she stopped a few feet in front of them and rested her hands on her hips in an arrogant stance.

Five sets of eyes roamed up and down her body as she waited for a response. She held her ground and didn’t move a muscle, even though she wanted to itch right out of her skin.

You didn’t mind when Ethan looked at you like that last night. Sheridan slammed the door on that thought and forced herself to look at her marks, not the dance floor where she’d gotten the most intense kiss of her entire life.

            A cocky young buck stepped forward and smirked. "Do you know how to play with the big boys there, sweet thing, or are you just wantin' to hold a long piece of wood? Either way, I can accommodate you."

Loud guffaws filled the air, drowning out the country music coming from the dance floor behind her.

            Pushing her lucky cowboy hat back further on her head, she nodded to the cue in his hand. "The way I figure it, all you gotta do is know how to use that piece of wood. I know how to handle it. Question is- do you?"

            The ensuing hoots and laughs were her ticket in, and she knew it.

The young cowboy’s eyes hardened. "Alright darlin', you can play, but we play for stakes, so you got to be ready to cover what we're playing for. Unless you can offer up something just as good that we might be wanting to sample."

A mischievous smile painted her face, covering the trickle of unease she felt under his stare. “Don’t you worry about the money. I’ve got you covered like dew on the grass.” 

 (If you're interested in a longer excerpt, click here.)

Sometimes a song can inspire a scene. Or a story. And sometimes you can be inspired by the songs themselves.  (Those Blues Storytellers, My New Favorite Winter Song)

So how does music play into your writing? What songs are essential for your story? Do you have any recommendations for cool songs you're into right now?

Resurrection Blogfest II

Hi Everybody! Today is Resurection Blogfest, run by the incomparable, Mina Lobo.



This is the easiest blogfest around, and I almost missed it, due to all the cold medicine and other craziness going on around here. I'm not savvy enough at the moment to get the blogfest picture into the sidebar, so it disqualifies me from the prize drawing, but that's okay by me. I just wanted to be part of the cool kids participating. All you had to do is repost an old blog post from the past year you thought hadn't gotten the love it deserved.

So without further ado, I'm unearthing a post from back in March of this year.

Mutton Chops-A Closer Study of The Art of the Sideburn

Today we take a closer look at a very popular expression of male facial hair as we delve into the mutton chop. This in depth analysis of one of the many different categories of male facial hair builds on my previous homage to the art of the sideburn.

Mutton chops are long, sometimes bushy, sideburns that reach either the jawline or connect to a mustache. They can be trimmed and stylized in any number of ways. As such.

pic from brooklyndaily.com

It has been my experience that if a man has mutton chops, there are only four occupations he is able to hold.

1. Elvis impersonator.

Elvis did right by the mutton chop in the seventies.

 And the impersonators know it. Have a look.

pic from lasvegassun.com

2. Lumberjack
I'm a lumberjack and I'm okay . . . with my mutton chops.

3. Motorcycle gang member
But let it be known that a mutton chop wearing member cannot rise in the hierarchy above the level of "thug". Leaders must make special facial hair concessions and have either a ZZ Top beard or a Fu Manchu mustache.

4. Horror film hillbilly extra #6

 One through five being taken by other men with bushy beards or very scraggly mustaches.

So that's it on the mutton chop except to declare them magnificent. (Just like the mullet) And to prove my point, I leave you with this.

Nothing but mutton chops, baby!

Which career path would you choose if mutton chops adorned your mug?

****~~~***

So there it is, Citizens. My take on some wicked-awesome facial do's. Next time, I'll really talk about writing and music. Until then, let me know about your facial hair preferences in the comments!

Curse You Head Cold I Was Unprepared For!!

So I was sitting on the floor of my bathroom two days ago, rummaging around in the cabinet under the sink, looking for cold medicine. Which we apparently hadn't restocked from last year. I sat there, in my mucus haze, cursing the little three year old glazed-doughnut-monsters that had passed on their crusty germs to me and looking for anything that might provide relief.

This is how The Man stumbled upon me as I dazedly contemplated the decade old Benadryl in my hand, trying to remember what I knew about half-life potency of certain drugs. Which, whether sick or healthy, is pretty much diddly over squat.

Cautiously, like approaching an injured animal in the wild, The Man asked, "Whatcha got there?"

Clutching the medicine that expired in 2003 to my chest like it's My Preciousssss, I replied, "Nothing."

"Nothing, huh?"

"Just some medicine I think I might take."

"Lemme see it."

I shook my head, wishing immediately that I hadn't.

He gave me that disapproving look, the one he saves for when I've really gone off the reservation. The one that's part, "Do we really have to ride this train?" and "Why do I always have to be the responsible adult?"

After much coaxing and bribery by alcohol, he got me to release the medicine and brought me some whiskey with honey and lemon in it, which I sipped until he came back from the store with Nyquil and day time cough medicine.

That Man, I tell you. He's a keeper.

So I've been sick and wishing I could stay in bed, but nursery school duty calls and I must obey--since I'm hoping to give the germs right back to those little critters!

Anywho, until next time, Citizens, when I'll be talking about music and writing. Stay healthy! And if you see any little glazed doughnut monsters wiping their noses on their sleeves. . .  head the other way!