Halloween

HAPPY HALLOWEEN

I enjoy Halloween. I don't go crazy with decorating and such but to me it's a fun time, a kind of magical day. A day to be something you're not. When my daughter was little I made all her costumes. I'd ask her what do you want to be, anything. She was a goldfish one year - challenging. Another year she was a green dragon with a hot pink belly, green feet with purple toes, alternating colored scales going down her back, a long tail and wings. This put my sewing skills to the test because I had to alter the pattern. I know how to sew but I'm far from what you would call a seamstress. She was the cutest little dragon in N.Y.. I wish I could post a picture of her so you would know it's not just a mother talking.

I still go trick or treating - I did tonight with my daughter. We didn't go to too many houses just enough to get the feeling of being a kid again. I actually giggled, something I'm not prone to do, while we waited for someone to answer the bell. We only had one complaint from an old lady. She said it was late, it was 6:30. She said we were too old, my daughter is still mistaken for a teenager. At least we were dressed costumes unlike half the teenagers that came to my door. But she gave us candy anyway. We went to one more house after that because we didn't want it to end on a sour note. The man there was nice and gave us each a handful of candy. Much better.

As I write this a smile comes to me as I think of going from house to house, waiting in anticipation for someone to answer and saying "trick or treat" . It's sometimes good to act like a child again. It refreshes. For a half an hour I wasn't a 55 year old mother-wife-person, I was an excited 10 year old. We should all allow ourselves this pleasure and more than once a year. Let the little kid inside come out and see what happens.

Crime Lab 101

On October 16 I had the pleasure of touring the Suffolk County Crime lab with the LIRW. I know I should have talked about it last Sunday but gee I don't know what happened but I just didn't get to it. (I think I was engrossed in the book THE GIRL WHO PLAYED WITH FIRE. Sorry.) Anywhooo, it was great seeing the evidence room and the labs.

I especially liked the ballistics room where they compare the markings on the bullets. The guys that work in there are whacky or at least seem to be going by how they've decorated the room. We didn't meet them. It was sort of like CSI meets the Addam's Family. On one wall there are skulls of different animals sitting on a shelf. A stuffed animal sat in a corner. I didn't check to see if it was real. Sitting on the edges of two framed displays of ammo were small figurines about one and a quarter inches tall. They're all different. Men and women of all types, shapes and dress, done in a comical way. Leather bound folders on shelves tucked into a corner held back issues of the American Rifleman from 1970-2003 and stero microscopes sat on the back table. Definitely a interesting eclectic array of items.

Though the electron microscope made my heart go pitter patter (yeah, I know I'm weird), the firearms vault was my second favorite room. Oh you should have seen all the guns, from machine guns to revolvers to cute little derringers. I know some gun enthausist is cringing at the word of cute. There was even a cane gun. We saw the firing tank which isn't anything spectacular, kind of ordinary looking, but it was still cool to see.

An autopsy was being performed and we all took glances into the room when we passed. Some of us were bothered by the sight while others, myself included, had trouble looking away. The body didn't look real. And I don't think it was because I wasn't wearing my distance glasses, others said the same thing. It was real alright. It was somebody's son. A reason for someone's grief.

But that's what this lab's about -death. What really struck me were the individual stations where the employees worked. I saw quite a few collages of personal photos if the person faced a wall. Photos, statues and buttons with funny sayings adorned the shelves at other locales. Each seemed to try to help the worker fend off the repetition and sadness that probably permeates a job like this. Who could blame them. I'd do the same thing.

old t-shirt

The other day I tossed one of my favorite t-shirts towards my husband declaring it could now take up residence in the rag bin.

"Who gave it to you?" he asked.

"Bob's (an ex boyfriend) mother."

"Oh wow, how old were you then?"

"About fifteen or sixteen."



Mind you I'm fifty-five now.

I didn't share this with you just to show what a hoarder I am. (Ok I am a hoarder but you can walk through my house and not just in man-made paths.) If I like something I keep it. I don't follow a trend unless it appeals to me. I'm not what you'd call a fashionista.



I thought about "trends" in the writing business. I've heard write what you like but I've also heard certain genres are dead or there's no audience for that subject matter. Editors/agents won't even look at them so why bother. Hmm, why bother. Maybe you do because that's what's in your head and it's pounding to get out. It could be because trends are fickled, what's here today may well be gone within the next year or two or possibly a little more. Trying to keep up with trends is like trying to catch a train with your shoelaces tied together; the possiblity of making it before it leaves is slim.



So put on that old comfortable t-shirt, plop your butt down and write what is inside you.

? ? ?

I was sitting here trying to think of what to write when the following popped into my mind, so I figured I'd throw it out there. If no one responds, oh well, nothing ventured nothing gained, right?

Here’s the scenario: You’re dying. But you don’t want to go yet. How would you persuade God or your concept of supreme being to change his/her/it's mind? Or would you not even try?

I’ll give you some time to think about it. Get back to me when you have an idea. Meanwhile this is conjuring some images for a story, which I think I’ll explore. Maybe I can get those synapses to stop partying for awhile to help me out here. (You'd understand this last sentence if you read my previous post. : ) )