While I was away in the land of Disney, Kelli posted a couple of blogs in my stead and one really hit home.  She talked about her daughter’s campaign for a new pet.  I’ve got a lot of that going on her at the Bright Compound, too.

While we were in Disneyland, we visited Santa.  He was there with his reindeer.  I had no idea reindeer were as fuzzy as they are.  I was expecting a deer-like pelt, but no.  Their antlers are even fuzzy.  It makes an animal lover’s palm itch to pet them, however Disney did not approve.

Tangent alert.

There was also an enormous white turkey living at Santa’s homestead.  I know, weird right?  But then I saw a plaque.  It stated that particular tom was the lucky turkey pardoned by Barak Obama this year.  Apparently after the pardoning, he was loaded on “Turkey 1” and flown to live out the remainder of his existence at the “Happiest Place on Earth”.  Quite the life, huh?

Back to the story.  We waited in line to see Santa because, as My Honey so succinctly put it, it would give us a free pass from the mall one.  Also, I suspected this Santa would be an awesome Santa.  Disney would only have the best, right? 

When we got to the front of the line, I leaned in to hear what Sassy and the Bandit would ask for.  You can find out a lot of important information by eavesdropping on private conversations with Santa.  Sassy didn’t say anything I wasn’t already privy to, so there were no surprises there.  The Bandit however.  Oh dear God.

“And what do you want little boy?” Santa leaned over his jolly belly and listened intently to my son.

He listed several things I already knew about.  All was well in the universe.  Then he dropped the bomb.  “And I really, really want a golden retriever puppy.”

What! I leaned in because I couldn’t possibly have heard him correctly. 

“A puppy,” Santa repeated and nodded.  He looked directly into my panic stricken face and damn if I couldn’t see a twinkle in his blue eyes.

I shook my head desperately and made slashing motions across my throat.

“Yeah, a golden retriever puppy.  I’m gonna name him…” And there’s where I passed out.

From what My Honey tells me, Santa had the presence of mind to tell my child he would have to discuss the puppy idea with his parents, and having a puppy is a huge responsibility.  Unfortunately, My Son’s interpretation of how things were summed up is quite different.  He is under the impression Santa unequivocally agreed to the puppy plan.  In fact, as soon as we got back to the hotel, he insisted on writing a reminder letter to Santa.

Now he talks about his new puppy constantly, almost as if this puppy already lives here and is a part of our lives.  We’ve had very earnest conversations about how asking Santa for something doesn’t guarantee delivery of such item, but he is convinced the puppy will be here on Christmas morning.  A golden retriever puppy specifically.  I don’t know where he learned of such a breed, or how he decided it was the one for him.

Roscoe, the Idiot Dog, desperately needs a friend, it’s true, but I don’t know how this is going to end.  Stay tuned and I’ll keep you informed how the Great Golden Retriever Puppy Plan of Christmas 2010 comes along.

So genre’s come and go, as you all know.  Most recently it’s been vampires.  I hold up Twilight, The Sookie Stackhouse books (or True Blood as they are known to HBO viewers) as the  most recent fads.  Many will tell you steampunk is making a bid for the prize right now.  For those of you unfamiliar with the concept of steampunk:

Works of steampunk often feature anachronistic technology or futuristic innovations as Victorians may have envisioned them; in other words, based on a Victorian perspective on fashion, culture, architectural style, art, etc. This technology may include such fictional machines as those found in the works of H. G. Wellsand Jules Verne or real technologies like the computer but developed earlier in an alternate history.

I am very intrigued by the steampunk phenomenon and if I didn’t have 97 gazillion other thoughts and story ideas running around, I’d give it a shot.  As it is….. My super hero story will have to come first as soon as I get this Regency thing out of my system.

Anyway, the point of my rambling is actually zombies.  I postulate zombies are the thing.  I’m fascinated with all the

Good looking hero

 zombie stuff going on right now and am completely sold on the show, The Walking Dead, on AMC.  It has a good looking hero and creepy, icky zombies.  I love it.  And this from the biggest, wienniest horror movie baby of all time.

I also loved Zombieland.  It’s creepy and funny and shouldn’t be missed if for no other reason than the “rules”.  And one of my favorite bloggers, thebloggess.com is a absolute riot with her zombie obsession.

All of this to bring you a funny cartoon.  If you never guessed, I spent all 2nd and 3rd grade in the corner for talking.

Chuck & Beans are my new Calvin & Hobbes

Last week my mom-in-law picked Sassy and The Bandit up from school because they had a half day.  She took them to Eegees.  For those of you not blessed with Eegees in your town – too bad for you.  Only our little town has them.  And they are GLORIOUS and I’m not of a mind to share.

But that wasn’t the point. 

Grandma took them to Eegees for lunch.  Sassy wanted some french fries so her grandmother sent the two of them to the counter with the money and had her order them herself.  I’m always looking for opportunities to push Sassy out of her little comfortable nest and this is just the sort of thing I’m always encouraging her to do.

The kids come back to the table and give their grandmother the change.

“What name did you give them for the order,” Grandma asked so she’d know when they called it for pickup.

Sassy sort of hemmed and hawed and didn’t answer so The Bandit chimed in.

“Henry,” he told her.

I realize I don’t use my children’s real names on this site, but I assure you with 100% honesty that Henry is neither of my children’s names.

“Henry?  Why Henry?” Grandma was understandably perplexed.

“Grandma, you never, ever give a stranger your name,” he told her in all seriousness.

I’m really glad to know that ridiculously expensive private school is worth the money.

We are home.  We’re tired, crabby, and still remarkably sore.  Disneyland is exhausting.  We arrived at the park at 10am on Wednesday and left at 9pm that evening.  Thursday we got to the park at 7am and left at 9:30.  Friday we showed up at 8am and left – absolutely dragging ass, at 10:30.  A grand total of 40 out of 72 hours.  Holy moley are our feet tired.  Sassy and the Bandit were amazingly well behaved.  They trudged along, threw not even one real temper tantrum, and were generally a joy for the three days we were there. 

Then we got in the car to go home. 

How did parents in covered wagons do it?  They were subjected to forced togetherness for months and months, across a boring prairie with nothing to look at and no videos to watch.  I’ll bet there were times the parents would have actually welcomed an Indian attack.

“Ma, tell Jed to stop touching me with his feet!”

“Well Mary won’t get over onto her side of the bench and she keeps looking at me!”

“I don’t care who touched who first! You stay on your own side and DON’T TOUCH ANYONE!  DON’T LOOK AT ANYONE.  I swear I’ll turn this wagon around and go back to Pennsylvania!”

Oh thank God! Here come the Apaches!

The Bandit was tall enough to ride most everything this time around which meant Splash Mountain and Thunder Mountain Railroad were on his agenda.  However, he wasn’t happy about it.  In fact, he told us right off the bat he didn’t like getting wet on Splash Mountain.  When we took him on Thunder Mountain Railroad for the second time – a time that took some cajoling and convincing – he told me in all seriousness that he thought he’d peed a little bit.  Then boy became inordinately obsessed with seat belts.

While in line for the Monorail, the most innocuous ride in the history of rides, he told me he didn’t think it was safe as there were no seat belts.  I assured him it would be fine but he looked unconvinced until the end.

The weather was fantastic.  I even got a sunburn but, really, that shouldn’t surprise you.

We met Buzz Lightyear, Winnie the Pooh, bounced with Tigger, Goofy, Mickey, Minnie and Pluto.  The Haunted Mansion was completely redone with Jack Skellington and The Nightmare Before Christmas.  You know Disney – nothing was half done. As proof of that, in case you had any doubt, Disney makes it snow after the fireworks display.  I kid you not.  It’s A Small World was gorgeous with the holdiay lights, and Sleeping Beauty’s castle was nothing short of astounding.

All in all, it was a wonderful vacation although just as I suspected, I am

Snowing!

more tired now then when I left.  I’ll know for sure how my attitude has improved once I go back to work tomorrow and have to face real life.

Hi ho.  Hi ho. It’s off to work we go….but we’re not happy about it.

I’m going to tell you a secret, dear Reader.  Actually, it’s a bit of gossip, but since we’ve redubbed this site the Gossip Sheet, this little tidbit is totally appropriate. 

I think Kelli is having an affair with her cover model.  The guy model not the girl model, just so we’re clear.

I'm certain Kelli is imagining herself in this picture even as you read this

One of the things that’s nice with working with an e-pub is you have some input in the cover.  In Kelli’s situation, she was very involved.  In fact, she’s the one who found the cover photograph. 

The model in question is Jimmy Thomas and I’ll throw the guy a plug here.  He’s made a career out of cover modeling.  His resume says he’s been on 772 covers.  I should say that’s pretty impressive.

Some how or other, my details get a little fuzzy right here, Kelli and Jimmy started an email correspondence a week or so ago – a flirty, silly little email correspondence.  The Romance convention in NYC next year was mentioned.  Someone called someone else “sweetie”.  There was giggling.

Of course, I must tease.  Even while Kelli is making fun of herself, I have to throw in my little jibes.  

So now remember, don’t tell anyone our little secret, and I’ll keep you in the know for further developments.

There are very few pictures of me out in the world.  I flee from cameras and the reason is two fold. 

1. I do not take good pictures.  I’m not being modest.  This is a fact of life that I’ve come to accept after 41 years on this planet.   In order to get a decent picture, I have to spend an absurd amount of time and money on professional photography – like for my wedding.  My beautiful grandmother didn’t take good candid pictures either so it must be in the genes.  Now Sassy?  Sassy is made for the camera.  She’s beautiful in every picture every time.  The ogre ruining the picture is me in the background.

2.  I’m a chronic migraine sufferer and flashes from cameras will give me a killer headache 100% of the time.  If I was ever surrounded by paparazzi, I’d be dead in minutes.  Guaranteed.  Camera’s come out and I vanish.

With all that background story, you should be very pleased that I am actually putting a picture of me on the Internet willingly.  It’s one of the very few pictures of me I like.  I look presentable and it’s very whimsical.

Me and Einstein hanging out in the park

This is a memorial for Albert on Constitution Avenue in Washington DC outside the National Academy of Sciences near the Vietnam Memorial.

Don’t expect any more photos of me anytime soon.  This is it.  Unless it’s a picture of me signing my book contract.  When I’m offered a book deal, I vow I’ll post a picture of me signing the papers.  It’s a promise.

The boy can’t keep a secret.  I’m sure this is not a surprise that a five year old can’t keep a secret, but watching him struggle with it is fun.

We had been sitting down to dinner and were about half way through when I heard The Bandit ask his daddy, “Can I tell her now?”

“Tell her what?” I asked.  Of course I assume he’s talking about me.  Maybe they bought me a present!  I love presents.  You may already know this about me.  “Tell her what?” I ask again, this time feigning indifference.

“Dude!” My Honey stares at the boy, his mouth hanging open.

“Tell her what?” This time the girl is asking the question.  I’m sure she assumes they’re talking about her.

“Fine.  Tell her then,” My Honey shakes his head at the boy.

“No.”  The Bandit giggles. 

“Tell me,” the girl prods.

“If it’s a secret, you better not tell,” I say sounding much more mature than I actually am.

“Did you get something today?”  Sassy is on a fishing expedition now.

“Just tell her, dude,” Daddy is laughing now too.  He can’t help himself.  No one is immune once The Bandit starts giggling.

“No.” More giggling.

“If you don’t tell her, I will.” 

“NO!” The Bandit squeals and tries to cover his daddy’s mouth.

I know they went to Target after school today.  I saw a bag and some stuff we’re going to need next week on our vacation.  Hmmmmm.  I’ll not lie.  My curiosity is peaked.

“I got candy,” Bandit blurts out.

“No you didn’t.”

“We got a dog!” he says only he burps mid-word and no one knows what he’s talking about.

“What’s a dooooooooooohhhhhhhhhhhg?” I ask.  Once that’s cleared up, and we are told that we didn’t indeed inherit a new canine, the boy starts hollering out things.”

“A dolphin.  A toy.  A drum.”

Sassy’s starting to really get into this and dad starts giving hints, albeit very odd hints.  He’s giving a weird pirate look across the table: dramatically closing one eye and opening the other making it sort of bulge out.

“An eyeball?” I ask knowing that can’t possibly be it.

“Yeah!” The boy giggles wildly.  “An eyeball!”  Now he’s cackling away with glee.

All of a sudden the girl gets it.  “You got an Icee?”

“Yeah,” Daddy and her brother both nod.

Really?  The boy stews about a secret for hours, literally bubbling with excitement that he has a secret…  He gets the whole house in an uproar…I’m thinking of presents or, at the very least, something exciting.

An Icee?  Really?  Bah!

The Bandit was playing with a Halloween wig today and his father noted a marked resemblance to someone famous.  What do you think?

The Warhol Bandit

Andy Warhol

Add a few years, a black turtle neck, and a bit more self-importance and you’ve got yourself Andy Warhol.

We haven’t discussed the idiot dog lately.  You can rest assured there is nothing wrong with him.  He’s still around.  He’s still an idiot.  At this very moment he is asleep, stretched out happy as he can be with his head on my pillow next to the man he loves more than life.  They snore happily together. 

The cat and I are totally disgusted.

The dog is such a clown.  I’ll give an example to prove my point.  As if the

Napping on the table

table-sitting antics didn’t do it already.

He stands outside,  frantic to come in.  He fiddles with the knob. He jumps against the door.  He bays incessantly.  There is whining.

When I finally let him in he erupts through the doorway.  Hitting the area rug at a dead run, it accordions up into the wall where he smashes into the closet door in the office.  He regains his feet and, with a burst of speed, he does what I call the Scooby-Doo move – all four feet are running but he’s not going anywhere.  His goal is the hallway that will take him past the laundry room where he can either go straight into the family room or make a hard left into the kitchen, but there’s a sharp right turn to the hallway that he has never made without first slamming head first into the wall.  Understandably, that slows him down quite a bit and he’s able to right himself and aim down the hallway.  Of course, he wants to turn left into the kitchen – after all that’s where all the good smelling stuff is, but in order to do that he’ll have to do a hip-check into the door jamb.

Keep in mind that all of this is done while baying at top volume.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOW! 

If you doubt me, ask Kelli or Ava.  They have heard all this on any number of occasions when they call the house.

I guess, if I was inclined to look on the bright side of all this, at least the dog, with all that racket, will never sneak up on me.

All of these are funny, but this is my current favorite.

“Frowned upon in this establishment!”