The Horror! The Horror!

The Plan: Buy this book - Frightlopedia: An Encyclopedia of Everything Scary, Creepy, and Spine-Chilling, from Arachnids to Zombies by Julie Winterbottom - for my nephew and niece for Halloween. They love to read, and they're pretty okay with scary things. Besides, each section in the book has a Fright Meter to gauge the scare-factor. 

What Actually Happened: Aunt Madeline decided she did not want to be responsible for terrifying her nephew and niece. (Adults, on the other hand, are fair game.) So, at great sacrifice to her own sanity, she read it instead and promptly freaked herself out.   

(To be fair, the kids might've been fine with it. It's just you never know what will trigger a nightmare, a fear, a phobia, especially when you're young. Take it from someone who was scared so badly by an innocent Popeye cartoon that she had bad dreams for a week.) 

All that being said, I really did enjoy the book. It's creepy, with photos that haunt me still, but it's also entertaining and informative. 

Did you know . . . about the waste water treatment center where scientists found 107 million spiders had woven a four acre web - the size of four soccer fields! - inside the building? 

Did you know . . . that claustrophobia is the fear of enclosed spaces, but cleithrophobia is the fear of being trapped? Check out these two real-life situations:

- A man got stuck in an elevator for two full days with nothing to eat but Rolaids.

- A woman got stuck in her bathroom for 20 days. She banged on the pipes, but neighbors thought the noise was construction. She lived on nothing but water.

And finally, a place I will NOT be going to on my next vacation:

Gomantong Caves is on the island of Borneo in Southeast Asia. It houses two million bats. The cave floors are ten feet deep in guano, but you can't see any it because of all the cockroaches. Yep, a giant mass of cockroaches feasts on all that poop, along with the occasional bat that falls from the ceiling. And you can watch it all from the wooden walkway that will supposedly keep you safe from all but the errant cockroach and the three-inch-long centipedes that crawl along the handrail. 

Yeah, my sister should sooooo thank me for not sending this book.

*****

So, what scared you as a kid? What scares you now? Plan on taking a trip to those caves? If so, please don't bring me back a souvenir . . . . 

*****

(I talked about this book purely because I enjoyed it. I didn't receive any compensation, etc.)

Birthdays and Books

When I was a kid - and I'm talking about 30 years ago now - my godmother would sometimes take me out for my birthday, and my favorite excursions were when we'd go to Barnes and Noble. 

It was always an event. We'd take the subway into Manhattan, an experience in itself. I'm wondering now if the store we went to was a flagship store because, at least in my eyes, it was huge. My godmother and I would find the young adult section - or whatever it was called, back in the day - and she would leave me to it. She'd go off and look for books for herself, checking on me occasionally, while I happily chose and stacked books for possible purchase. Not once do I ever remember her telling me I couldn't get a book because it was "inappropriate" for me.

Laden with shopping bags, we'd go to dinner, usually for Chinese food but one time we went to a French restaurant where I had french onion soup for the first time - yum!

On the train home, my godmother would open one of her books and read, while I scanned the car making sure no one was about to try and steal the shopping bag of books at my feet. (Hmm, maybe some of that paranoia came from books that weren't so appropriate for me after all….)

Now, these many years later, I'm the one who buys books for my godmother. I wrap and pack them up - usually with some chocolate! - and send them up north where she lives in assisted living. Next month, I'll start listing books to pick up for my nephew's birthday. And in the Fall, I'll do the same for my niece. And I hope one day, my nephew and niece will remember those gifts of books, of reading, of stories the way I remember mine - with a smile. 

Do you have any birthday memories that make you smile? Are you the person in your family or circle of friends who buys everyone books? Do you appreciate the person who does?

A Makeup Lesson from an Unlikely Source

Since a number of us are slogging through NaNo, and even more of us are prepping for the holidays, I thought we could all use a chuckle and a reminder of how much fun  creativity and imagination can be….

My husband and I love getting drawings from my six and a half year old nephew, B, and from my almost five year old niece, T. Here's what they sent us the other day:

A portrait of Larry the tortoise, done by B - 

A portrait of Mrs. Larry the tortoise, done by T - 

A close up of the Mrs. Larry drawing - 

Give it a good look. Okay?

Now here's what's written on the back - 

MRS. LARRY WEARING LIPSTICK

(If only I looked as good wearing lipstick. Sigh. Have a good day, everyone!) 

A Study in Character

My 4 1/2 year old niece - we call her Little T - recently reminded me of an important writing lesson.

While at her pre-school, she wanted me to pick out which crayoned self-portrait hanging on the wall was hers. So, like a good aunt, I studied the information on each page and focused on all the girls who had this on their paper:

My hair is: BLACK

My eyes are: BROWN 

It still took me three tries to guess the right one. But when I did, I couldn't help but smile at the rest of what was written there:

My favorite color is: PINK

My favorite activity is: WRESTLING

It's those unexpected and unique aspects that we need to develop in our characters and also, hopefully, in ourselves. 

So, whenever I'm concerned that my characters - or I! - might be flat or boring, I'll think back to my niece - perky pigtails, sparkly t-shirt, cute little face scrunched up in a one-eyed squint and a sneer full of baby teeth that would make even the meanest pirate shudder. 

Little T is already a character in her own right. 

It's Tricky

The other day, I was helping my two and a half year old niece, T, put her sandals on. These things had more straps and flaps than a straitjacket (which I was pretty sure I was going to need by the time I was done "helping" her.) I turned her little foot this way, then that. I tore at the Velcro parts only to have them mush together again when I glanced away. I finally said to T -

"I'm sorry, T. Aunt Maddie's having some trouble with this."

She looked up at me, brown eyes big and solemn in her little face, and said, "That's okay. It's tricky."

Words of wisdom from a little girl with the patience of a saint. So, on the days I feel like I am the foot trying to force my way into the sandal of life, of writing, I remember her words and smile.

So, if you're having a rough day/week/month/year, remember - It is okay. It is tricky. Sometimes the Velcro works, and sometimes you just have to give up - go barefoot and make your own way.

The Power of Words (Part II)

I don't do a lot of "cursing" in the normal course of conversation. I might let certain words slip out but that tends to happen at home where my husband and the tortoises don't mind. I am very aware of the company I'm in and I do my best to not let even what my sister tells my niece and nephew are "potty words" out if I can help it.

I was doing so good, really I was...until my sister took out a toy she'd been saving for the kids. She thought it would be fun for Aunt Maddie to put it together and for all of us to play with it. To make a long story short, my sister was lucky I didn't throw the thing through her bay window. I could not get it to work. The car was supposed to go on the track and then go upside down and then...I'm getting frustrated just thinking about it.

So, what I wanted to say was "This thing is s***!" but I caught myself in time. Then, I started to say, "This thing is c**p!" but all I could think of was my nephew, B, asking what "c**p" meant. What I ended up with was "This thing is...poopy." (I know, I know.)

Now, keep in mind, I didn't know about the whole "potty words" thing then. Well, B and T looked at me, eyes wide WITH DELIGHT, mouths turned up in HAPPY GRINS. "Aunt Maddie said poopy! Aunt Maddie said poopy!"

And so, as you can imagine, I was a hit - with the kids, anyway - for the rest of the visit.

In my defense, I truly did have the best of intentions. But I think that fact was lost on everyone when, later in the day, my niece, T, said in her teeny, tiny voice, "Poopy," and then smiled at us all.

The Power of Words

I forget that I know a lot of words. I was reminded of this recently when I spent time with my nephew, B, and my niece, T. I lost track of how many times I used a word and B would ask me what it meant. (I would tell him and he would say "oh" and then it was as if I could actually see him storing it away in that little head of his, waiting for a day when he would use it himself.)

The thing is, I had to figure out the best way to explain whatever the word was to a four year old.

We were all playing with these magnetic/wooden/paper doll type things - there were super hero outfits and pirate costumes and all kinds of stuff. (It was so much fun that Aunt Maddie might need to get some for herself. The dolls, not the costumes.) B couldn't find the shoes that went with the super hero. All he could find were cowboy boots. This was very troubling to him, so I said something about how the doll could be a "rebel" and, of course, B asked, "What's a rebel?"

I had to think a minute before I said, "A rebel is someone who doesn't do what everyone else does."  

"Oh." He stopped for a minute, the cowboy boots in one hand, the doll in the other. He nodded as if deciding something. He put the cowboy boots on his super hero guy and said, "I'm going to make him a rebel."

Hmm, I wonder if more than one rebel was born that day.

Fashion Advice for Writers

I've decided I need to take fashion lessons from my 2 year old niece.

Working from home, I wear what I want. This usually consists of a t-shirt and shorts or a t-shirt and yoga pants or a t-shirt and pajama pants or...you get the idea. The other day, I received a picture of my niece cooking at her little kitchen playset.  She wore pajamas (and looked way cuter than Aunt Maddie does in hers) but, and here's the kicker - on top of those pajamas, she wore a frilly, pink princess dress-up gown AND...AND...AND a sparkly tiara with flashing lights!

Oh, I think I need one of those! Or a crown of some sort. Some kind of Writing Hat that will not only make me look fabulous but will also hold all the words and ideas in my brain and force them down into my fingertips and out onto the page/screen. Sigh. If only. Hmm, maybe my niece will let me borrow her tiara.  If not, maybe I'll ask my nephew if I can borrow his cool plastic robot arms.  Those might work, too...

Lifelong Readers

What do my three and a half year old nephew, my two year old niece, and myself (who is waaaay older than either of them) all have in common, other than being related?  Books!  We love books!

B (my nephew,) T (my niece,) my sister and myself took a trip to their local library.  It's been a long time since I've been in the children's area of a library but I loved it - loved how everything is smaller, lower, more accessible.  The picture books on the tops of the bookcases stood open and out, their colorful covers eye candy for all the little ones passing by - including my nephew.

"I want to look at this one," he said, pulling down one of those books.  He asked me, "What does it say?"  I told him it was about the tooth fairy and, even though he's years away from meeting the tooth fairy, the book went in the pile to go home.  

My sister, who's a teacher, walked around picking out titles and authors she's familiar with while I read to the kids.  We read a book about a little girl who thinks she's a chicken and we read a book about a robot - B loves robots.

It was so much fun for so many reasons - being surrounded by books, being surrounded by colors and words, having T on my lap and B sitting next to me, watching them watch the words dance across the page, the story coming alive as if by magic as I read those words out loud.

A number of times over the next few days, B would ask me, "What was the name of that robot again, Aunt Maddie?  The one in the book we read at the library?"  And I would tell him, all the while hoping that this was just the beginning, hoping that we'd have many, many more conversations about books in the years to come.