Parenting: What I practice and believe in

I saw a post on a social media thread where someone asked, “what bad traits of yours do your children have?”

My response was: None. My kids have grown up to be the kind of people I wanted to be.

The person who asked the question responded, “Lucky you.”

Luck has nothing to do with it. Yes, I understand the whole nature versus nurture argument. Let’s put that aside for a moment.

We are all born with certain personality traits. We all learn certain personality and behavior traits. It isn’t a free for all. If you’re a hot mess it doesn’t mean your kids will be hot messes. If you made terrible mistakes in your youth it doesn’t mean your children will. If you hated your parents it doesn’t mean your kids will hate you.

Like I said, luck had nothing to do with the way my kids turned out. The only lucky thing they got was good looks.

What makes a successful parent? It is easy.

  1. Learn from your mistakes and teach your kids by it.
  2. Talk to your kids from the day they are born. EVERY SINGLE DAY. Don’t take grunts and one word answers to questions. Engage with your children.
  3. Show interest in your kids. I know you’re tired. I know you’ve been working. I know. I’ve been there. Show interest in them. By showing interest you will also be helping yourself. Think about it.
  4. Remember that your children are going to grow up to become adults. Prepare them for the adult world. Have those hard conversations.
  5. Trust your children. Give them reason to trust you as well.
  6. Teach them the difference between right and wrong. Not for any BS religious reason but because it is the right to do.
  7. Teach your children compassion and empathy.
  8. Teach them that yes indeed, they ARE judged by the company they keep.
  9. Teach them to be proud of who they are.
  10. Teach them to be curious and that learning is something they will do their entire lives.
  11. Teach them to be polite and to never be rude, especially when they are a guest. If they are pleasant they will always be invited back. Be better away from home than you ever are at home.
  12. Love them and put them first. Always put your children first. They need you. They depend on you. They love you. They can’t function without you. They need your guidance, your thoughts, your ear. Most of all they need your hugs.

Every child is different. Some are loud. Some are quite. Some seem too perfect (that can be scary) and some seem to make a mess of everything. Every family is also different, from the huge families with a dozen children to the family with a single child – and each child is unique. Every child has the potential to grow up and be happy and successful.

The following paragraphs are more or less what I put in my list but read it again.

 

Parenting – Why it is important and what I believe and practice.

My main message is for parents to talk not just at or to their kids but WITH their kids. Also to give your children the safety to be their own little personalities (or big personalities) and to be kids, but also give them the freedom to grow and fly. I am a strong advocate against over protecting children. I’m a mother wolf and yes, I’ll protect to the death, but I don’t want to be responsible for an immature, over sensitive, ignorant adult one of these days. Children, in my opinion, need their parents forever, but they also need to know about the world they’ll live most of their lives in, especially teens. They also need to know the harsh facts about sex, drugs and the company they keep. Our reputations and the choices we make as teens can stay with us our entire lives. Teens need to know this.

I absolutely love teens. They’re funny and wise and silly and so loving in ways that most people don’t even see. Just talk to one, or better yet, try to remember a million years ago in another time, another world, another planet, when you were a teen.

But I’m not going to preach those ideas in every single blog post. Through my tales about my kids, my husband, my brothers and my friends, I try to get across my messages about relationships, love, consequences, and just life. And if I can get someone to think or laugh I feel like I’ve done something. If I can get anyone to laugh I’m happy.

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman

Juliette’s Book Club: An Eclectic Mix

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Forgive me for the fuzzy photo in the early morning light. Then again sometimes everything seems fuzzy in those wee hours when the only things up are birds, garbage trucks, and coyotes. Oh yes, and cats. My cats had a serious case of the zoomies this morning. They must have sped like lightening up and down the stairs and hallways of my house at least seventy five times. The neighborhood yappy little shit for brains dogs have also been shrilly barking for over an hour while their owners sip their coffee cluelessly not realizing how much everyone hates them. These people also flood the gutters. 

Most of us have that stack, shelf, or bag of books we are going to read next. Mine is quite the mixed bag right now, but an interesting bag. You know, it is like when you go to the grocery store and find yourself with a bag containing a bottle of wine, a sponge, apples, dog food, aluminum foil, and coffee beans. A mixed bag.

Right now I’m reading Masked Prey by John Sanford. It is a Lucas Davenport Novel. I’ve been reading this series since Rules of Prey came out in 1989. Like most longtime readers I’ve seen the characters grow, grow up, and adjust to changing times. I love these books. Last night I was telling my husband that I appreciate a writer like John Sanford who can write believable characters be they male, female, children, teens, young, old, of any racial, cultural, or other background. Great characters and great dialogue make his stories worth coming back to.

 

On my Need to Read Next list are the following books: 

The Cold Six Thousand by James Ellroy

My daughter gave me this book for my birthday. She said it sounded like something I’d like to read. It is a long book – 672 pages. It should be quite entertaining and extremely interesting.

The official description: The internationally acclaimed author of the L.A. Quartet and The Underworld USA Trilogy, James Ellroy, presents another literary noir masterpiece of historical paranoia.

In this savagely audacious novel, James Ellroy plants a pipe bomb under the America in the 1960s, lights the fuse, and watches the shrapnel fly. On November 22, 1963 three men converge in Dallas. Their job: to clean up the JFK hit’s loose ends and inconvenient witnesses. They are Wayne Tedrow, Jr., a Las Vegas cop with family ties to the lunatic right; Ward J. Littell, a defrocked FBI man turned underworld mouthpiece; and Pete Bondurant, a dope-runner and hit-man who serves as the mob’s emissary to the anti-Castro underground.

It goes bad from there. For the next five years these night-riders run a whirlwind of plots and counter-plots: Howard Hughes’s takeover of Vegas, J. Edgar Hoover’s war against the civil rights movement, the heroin trade in Vietnam, and the murders of Martin Luther King, Jr. and Bobby Kennedy. Wilder than L. A. Confidential, more devastating than American Tabloid, The Cold Six Thousand establishes Ellroy as one of our most fearless novelists.

 

My Sister. The Serial Killer by Oyinkan Braithwaite

I was looking forward to reading this book just because of the title. It is described as darkly comic. Unfortunately it slid under the couch and was hiding there for months until my husband was moving furniture around about a week ago.

The official description: NOMINATED FOR THE 2019 BOOKER PRIZE
WINNER OF THE LA TIMES BOOK PRIZE FOR MYSTERY/THRILLER
FINALIST FOR THE 2019 WOMEN’S PRIZE

Korede’s sister Ayoola is many things: the favorite child, the beautiful one, possibly sociopathic. And now Ayoola’s third boyfriend in a row is dead, stabbed through the heart with Ayoola’s knife. Korede’s practicality is the sisters’ saving grace. She knows the best solutions for cleaning blood (bleach, bleach, and more bleach), the best way to move a body (wrap it in sheets like a mummy), and she keeps Ayoola from posting pictures to Instagram when she should be mourning her “missing” boyfriend. Not that she gets any credit.

Korede has long been in love with a kind, handsome doctor at the hospital where she works. She dreams of the day when he will realize that she’s exactly what he needs. But when he asks Korede for Ayoola’s phone number, she must reckon with what her sister has become and how far she’s willing to go to protect her.

 

A Dog’s Way Home by W. Bruce Cameron

I love dogs. Everybody I know loves dogs. Dogs are great. My mother gave me this book. The paperback book I now have looks like it has been read by a dozen people, and probably has. I’m looking forward to this light and heartwarming tail (pun intended.)

The official description: This remarkable story of one endearing dog’s journey home after she is separated from her beloved human is directed by Charles Martin Smith and stars Ashley Judd, Edward James Olmos, Wes Studi, Alexandra Shipp, and Jonah Hauer-King. W. Bruce Cameron and his wife, Cathryn Michon, wrote the screenplay for the film.

With four hundred miles of dangerous Colorado wilderness separating one brave dog from her beloved person, Bella sets off on a seemingly impossible and completely unforgettable adventure home.

A Dog’s Way Home is a beautifully told, charming tale that explores the unbreakable bond between us and those we love. This is a fantastic and exhilarating journey of the heart that brilliantly speaks to the incredible power of love and resilience of spirit that tie us together–making it a perfect gift for everyone who’s ever loved a dog.

 

The Brief History of the Dead by Kevin Brockmeier

I’ve had this book for a couple of years and have no idea why it keeps getting put to the bottom of the pile. The description is super interesting. It will be read before the summer is out. This book might just be one of those tales you can’t forget because it is that good. I hope so.

The official description: From Kevin Brockmeier, one of this generation’s most inventive young writers, comes a striking new novel about death, life, and the mysterious place in between.

The City is inhabited by those who have departed Earth but are still remembered by the living. They will reside in this afterlife until they are completely forgotten. But the City is shrinking, and the residents clearing out. Some of the holdouts, like Luka Sims, who produces the City’s only newspaper, are wondering what exactly is going on. Others, like Coleman Kinzler, believe it is the beginning of the end. Meanwhile, Laura Byrd is trapped in an Antarctic research station, her supplies are running low, her radio finds only static, and the power is failing. With little choice, Laura sets out across the ice to look for help, but time is running out. Kevin Brockmeier alternates these two storylines to create a lyrical and haunting story about love, loss and the power of memory.

 

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Normally I do not have the patience to write book reviews other than saying, “WOW I LOVED IT,” or “I threw it in the recycle bin before I hit the first hundred pages.” My hope is that you go through my to-read pile and go through your own to-read pile. Then read, share, and leave a good review online if you like it.

Happy Summer Reading!

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman

 

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Short Story Sunday: Captain Sandy and the Airship at the End of the World

Captain Sandy and the Airship at the End of the World

(Published as author Marla Todd)

The end of the world had come and gone a long time ago. Of course I wouldn’t dare remind Captain Sandy of that extraordinary fact. He stood in the basket of the airship, hands on the control, the tails of his jacket blowing in the wind.

When the end of the world came the evil and the damned were gathered up and taken down to Hell. The pure and righteous were led up to Heaven in a golden white light.

That left the artists and writers, along with a lot of musicians, wine makers, computer programmers and antiques dealers. Of course there were others, but nobody that lacked a certain amount of creative or innovative spirit. One must have spirit and imagination to survive when the world ends without you.

It worked for me. Well, at least most of the time.

I honestly have to say, the world had become way too serious. I adjusted my goggles and scarf as I looked down on the tire fire that had been burning for the past 100 years. Adjusting the leather hood on my cat, I took him out of his basket to take a look. My five year old son Aaron stood on his toes to get a look as I held tight to the back of his jacket. I must have been a sight, boy in one hand, cat in the other.

Life was an adventure to be savored and enjoyed. It was a destroyed world being built up by those of us with visions of beauty and wonder. Captain Sandy always said this was Heaven. Of course I never told him otherwise. It was Heaven to be in the arms of my husband at night and feel the touch of his skin on mine, that is until I’d run my hand over the deep scars on his back. I called him my fallen angel. He would just laugh and kiss me as only an angel could kiss. Maybe it was Heaven for him since he was now dead, but I will never know unless I die too and find him there.

Once when I was younger my brother and I found some old movies in where everyone at the end of the world were driving big trucks and dune buggies as they shot anyone they came across. There were zombies and crazy fucks of all sorts fighting for the last clean water. It seemed they had unlimited amounts of fuel and bullets. No word of steam, solar and silent airships.

My brother and I laughed at the stupidity of it all. That was not our world. Ours was a world to create without hesitation or critical review. Our poets were considered as important as our politicians. Our sense of style always outweighed our sense of practicality. At least we kept telling ourselves that – all of us did as we banded together trying to give off an air of hope and strength. We created our own world going back to a time that didn’t really exist, where all things were possible and the modern world was still a beautiful dream.

Captain Sandy asked me what I was thinking that could have me looking so serious.

I told him and he just shook his head.

“Life isn’t a theater play like you make it out to be my dear. There are dangerous things out in dark areas of stench and smoke that would enslave us and make us into meals if they could. You’ve been protected in your leather and velvet bustle dresses and fanciful thoughts. It’s a good thing to be ignorant of the world but it is dangerous in ways you can’t imagine.”

“Captain,” I said, “you forget that the shadows took my husband. I take flights of fancy so I won’t fall out of the sky and die of sorrow.”

He turned and gave me a quick smile. Despite the dark pattern of scars on the left side of his face the Captain was still a handsome man with a dazzling smile. All the women were quick to notice him.

“Why are you alone Captain?”

“I’m not.”

“No wife or children?”

“I had a wife. She vanished when the world ended. I never knew if she went up or down or just vanished to dust. Who knows. The bitch could still be around somewhere.”

“So you’re alone,” I said.

“Just free of my wife.” He said nothing else then took off his hat and tied his long prematurely silver hair back with a ribbon he’d pulled from his coat pocket. “So, did you like movies back in the time before?”

I nodded. Of course I liked movies. Most of them were gone now. Rare stashes of films could be found and if we were lucky we’d find something to play them on.

Captain Sandy smiled a rare smile at me. “Sometimes I’m floating along above this all, all of this and I start thinking about Blade Runner and then my mind goes to Casablanca or off to Princess Bride then to In the Heat of the Night. I can run them all in my head, every line, every scene, every music score.”

I told him I did the same. We tend not to talk a lot about the time before the end of the world, but occasionally it comes out. We can’t deny our past. We just can’t help it.

“What did you do before, you know, the end of the world?” I asked the Captain point blank.

“I was a high school physics teacher. Physics and engineering to be exact. What did you do?”

“I produced reality TV shows. The last one was for MTV. Did you ever see Love Bytes?”

He laughed. “That was you? All of my students watched that show. Geeks and romance. A lot of them wanted to be on the show.”

The sky gradually started to turn dark. In the distance we could see lightning strike and the silhouettes of other airships.

I hugged my child and put a blanket around his shoulders. Aaron put his head on my lap and fell asleep. Captain Sandy sang softly a song that we both knew so long ago.

It seemed we’d been here for centuries, only the children aging and growing up.

As a rule we didn’t speak much of what we missed or how much. It was always there in the back of our minds. I missed skinny jeans and sweaters. I missed short tight dresses and yoga at the gym. I missed the music. I missed my friends and family. I missed my job. I even missed the orange trees in my back yard and the sound of the garbage truck at 6:45 am on Thursday mornings. I missed it all.

Captain Sandy turned suddenly and looked at me as if he could read my mind. “Don’t think of how things used to be. Don’t think of why we’re here.”

We both knew why we were here. Nobody wanted us. There was no place for us in Heaven but nobody in Hell wanted us either.

“You’ve got to admit,” the Captain continued, “we’re in a unique position. No matter how bad it looks, this is our world. I spent 18 years teaching kids to understand the building blocks of the universe. I thought I was contributing to the future of our young people so that they would make the world a better place.”

“Now it doesn’t matter,” I said in a rare show of depression over the events that brought us here.

“No. Now it matters more than ever. This is our world. Despite the shadows and ghouls, this is our world now, free and clear. We can still use the building blocks of science and art to make it the place we want it to be. Finally we can do it right.”

“You’re always such an optimist Captain Sandy but do you really believe that?”

“Of course I do. What other choice do I have?”

“You have a point,” I said, noticing the spark in his eyes.

He noticed that I’d noticed. “Look at this as the ultimate reality TV show.”

“If that is the case then who, Captain Sandy, gets the hot girl at the end?”

He smiled. “That depends on you.” Then he turned his face away from me to where I could only see the moon lit reflection of the scars that traced his jawline.

The crew of the airship came up on deck to view the stars and take in the night air. It was good to see them laugh and talk freely of the destination ahead. My son raised his sleepy head and laughed too. Maybe it wasn’t that bad after all. Maybe Captain Sandy would win the game and get the girl. I had a pretty good feeling he would.

~ End

Tangled Tales

This story was featured in the WPaD Anthology: Goin’ Extinct – Tales from the Edge of Oblivion. Available on Amazon B&N and with other fine online book sellers.  

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Available in paperback and electronic ebook versions on Amazon, Good Reads, Barnes and Noble and other fine online booksellers.

WPaD is the acronym for Writers, Poets and Deviants. We are a diverse group of writers who came together on the Internet to support and encourage each other.Our collaborative works are charity fundraisers, with a percentage of royalties being donated to Multiple Sclerosis in support of members of our group who live with MS.

Books by WPaD:

  • Nocturnal Desires: Erotic Tales for the Sensual Soul
  • Creepies: Twisted Tales From Beneath the Bed
  • Passion’s Prisms: Tales of Love and Romance
  • Dragons and Dreams: A Fantasy Anthology
  • Tinsel Tales: A Holiday Treasury
  • Silk She Is: Poetry of Daniel E. Tanzo
  • Goin’ Extinct: Tales From the Edge of Oblivion
  • Creepies 2: Things That Go Bump in the Closet
  • Strange Adventures in a Deviant Universe (Science Fiction)
  • WPaD Weird Tales
  • Creepies 3
  • Tinsel Tales 2
  • Goin’ Extinct Too: Apocalypse A Go-Go

WPaD books are available worldwide in paperback and ebook editions.

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman

 

 

Zombie Days

It is one thing to lose your keys but when body parts start to vanish life just sucks. That is what Melissa was thinking at the moment. Being a Zombie sucked big time.

When she was 14 she’d read The Chronicles of Thomas Covenant. Covenant had Leprosy. It was awful. His world was turned upside down and he more or less lost everything. In a weird twist he was transported into a fantasy world where he was whole, at least in body. It wasn’t an easy series to read and it wasn’t happy. It was just weird to Melissa then because she wasn’t a fantasy fan. Now she was a zombie, and not a fan of that either.

It would be nice to blink and be in a fantasy world. Better yet be back in her normal world with her normal job and her normal boyfriend. Unfortunately she was in some sort of fantasy nightmare that was real life. It didn’t make sense. She looked down and then picked a finger nail up off the ground. Crap, even professional nail glue wouldn’t keep them on.

Michael wasn’t her boyfriend back before the Zombie days. He was just a guy who was a friend she’d work with occasionally. Her real boyfriend was… she had to pause to think hard. Memories were fading. She thought of old film archives of disintegrating film. It was like that. Nate. The boyfriend was Nate. He was tall and funny and perfect. He was a brain surgeon. The irony didn’t escape Melissa on that one. Her stomach grumbled. Brains.

Nobody ever expects to go on a simple business trip and at the end of the day becoming a zombie. It was just a simple stop to see what had been caught under that car. They thought it was a tumbleweed. It was Zombies.

Men in Black, Area Z (top-secret Zombie internment camp), an escape, help from some unlikely friends and now they were in a remote cabin in the woods. They could wait it out. They were already dead. The dead can wait forever.

Given the choice she would have chosen to become a Vampire. Even a Werewolf would have been better. She liked dogs. She liked running in the woods. Even a Ghost would be good if you had to be dead. Anything was better than being a Zombie.

Sitting at an old roll top desk, Melissa penned a letter to a friend. She might decide to send it or maybe not. As she wrote her skin made skid marks on the paper in a pinkish gray line. If she squinted she could pretend it was fairy dust. At least she could still hold a pen and write in something that resembled her once beautiful handwriting.

She wrote of Michael, her companion and now Zombie lover.

“I know he is the one. I know it in my heart of hearts that no longer beats. I know it every time he moans and shuffles towards me. I know it when he tries to look presentable and human. He does it just for me. He makes me laugh so I won’t cry. He stuffs the fingers of my gloves where I no longer have my own fingers. He tells me I’m still beautiful.”

A sticky tear of something green trickled down her face. Maybe she’d pick some wild flowers and cheer up their space. She looked out the window at the sound of a truck. She could see two men inside, sitting in the front seat with crisp clean uniforms. They were from the Forest Service. She smiled. Finally lunch had arrived.

 

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman

This post was first published here in June 2014.  For the beginning of the Michael and Melissa story read A Lunch Date With Zombies.

 

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Vlad’s Vampire Diary: Cat Walk

Dear Diary,

With the advent of the pandemic I have had to be creative about my food sources. I must admit that I had become lazy due to the fact that I did not need to be overly resourceful.

Only months ago I could go out in the night and find people everywhere. Now the streets are empty. No long am I allowed to sit at a bar shoulder to shoulder with potential blood donors.

As with everyone else in my neighborhood I have taken to the ritual of the morning walk before the summer heat puts us all into comas. My cats follow me when it is cool, for when it is cool their paws do not burn on what is called Ass Fault. That is something that is somewhat confusing, the dark roads in a climate that turns so hot in the summer months. I would like it if the roads were perhaps a pale blue or maybe a dove gray with just a hint of silver sparkles. I do not know why it was the fault of the ass or whatever fool was building the road or why it is called such a slightly vulgar name.

Back when I was the King of Vampires, before I was locked in a crypt for three hundred years, only to be liberated a few years ago, most roads were dirt, or made of natural stones. Animals need not worry about the pads of their feet being seared off when they needed to travel. But I digress. I am not an expert in road construction and I fear I never shall be. According to my Vampire lover Gillian, the people who are supposed to build and maintain the public roads are also not experts in road construction but that is a story for another time. Ass Fault.

~ Vlad

 

Dear Diary,

Without much for dinner last night I again went walking in the small hours of the morning. My two cats followed along as the air was still cool as yet not seared by the morning sun. My stomach was growling and my head growing light. I had to find food without being too obvious.

Two women stood talking, one on the sidewalk, the other on the porch of her house. I smiled and waved politely from the other side of the street. I could hear them talking, for I am a Vampire and I can hear quiet conversations from a long distance.

“He has been walking with his cats almost every single day. They’re so cute.”

“Oh my he is hot.”

“Blazing hot.”

I thought that was odd since it was still quite cool outside. I did not feel hot. I did not feel cute either. Cats are cute. Babies are cute. From what I understand, otters are cute. I am a grown man. I do not understand this word “cute”.

As I walked along I came across a younger man attempting to remove large pieces of lumber from the back end of his truck.

“Do you need help?” I called to him from across the street.

“Oh wow, that would be great,” he said. “I don’t have a mask on, but I can get one out of the house.”

“You are fine,” I said. “We will not stand close together.”

I could see that he noticed the muscles on my arms. Yes, I would be of help and not a problem.  The two cats sat under a tree in his front yard and started to groom themselves.

A task that would have taken the man hours alone only took a few minutes with my help. Vampires are always good for such work as we are both strong and fast. When we were finished a woman came out into the yard. She had a cast on her arm which I assumed was broken. Now I know why the man had no help.

“Thank you so much for helping,” she said. “Would you like to join us for breakfast?”

And so I did.

They were quite delicious.

~ Vlad

 

Dear Diary,

My Vampire love Gillian and I, in a successful plan to stay out of the heat did was is called binge watching Netflix. We watched many shows in which people attempt to find killers in an entertaining and emotional filled manner filled with conflicts and unimaginable twists. These towns in which these stories take place are incredibly dangerous places. We also saw a show in which people try not to fall into lava.

These are things I could not have imagined in a million years, much less my 676 years.

The cats were sleeping, curled up together in a chair. I leaned towards Gillian and kissed her neck.

“Let us stop binge watching murderers and go upstairs. I wish to binge on you my love.”

Gillian laughed with the voice of an angel, then took me upstairs where she was definitely not an angel.

Sometime staying at home and indoors is not a bad thing. Not at all.

~ Vlad

 

 

Kissed by a Vampire

Kissed by a Vampire

This has been the 6oth installment of Vlad’s Vampire Diary. To read all of the posts and to start from the beginning of Vlad’s story CLICK HERE.

 

 

 

 

 

Masks

“Did you ever go to Ancient Egypt?”

“No, I didn’t. I guess I should have. The generals going to Britain requested that I go there with them as a form of protection or some sort of nonsense. I didn’t want to go. Not really. Then I started thinking that it was north of Rome, so maybe, just maybe I’d get some information about where I’d come from, you know, originally as a toddler.”

“Do you remember your parents?”

“Not really. I remember I was at a place that was home, there were a lot of trees and people who looked like me, then I remember I was someplace else. You’ve asked me all of this before. I know it seems extremely interesting but I’d like to talk about something else now.” He put his hand on Val’s shoulder. “How are you holding up these days? I see you’ve shaved off your beard. Did you do that on your own volition or did a woman put you up to it?”

Val smiled. “It was my idea. I don’t have a woman in my life right now.”

Tellias patted my brother’s knee as he stood up, “Oh you will, you will. You’ve got a good face. Women like good faces.”

The old Vampire, who looked like a nineteen year old kid, stretched his arms from side to side then, looked over at me. “Don’t you think your brother is handsome without the beard?”

“Indeed I do,” I said.

“Indeed he does look handsome as ever,” said Eleora as she danced into the room carrying a basket full of what looked like colorful scraps of fabric. “And now we shall cover you up. Completely up.”

“Completely,” said Tellias.

He took the basked from Eleora, then danced her around the room. “My love, forever. You are why I’m glad I did not go to ancient Egypt and decided to go with the Romans north. When I saw you dancing on the edge of the cliff with the sound of the waves in the background I knew.”

“You knew,” said the brown haired young women who was really over two thousand years old. “I knew. Now we all know.”

“Yes we do,” said Tellias.

“Now, we shall cover up,” she said grabbing a daisy patterned face mask out of her basket. “I made these yesterday.”

“She made them,” said Tellias.

“Two dozen,” said Eleora.

“Yes, two whole dozen. Twenty four,” said Tellias.

“Twenty four,” said Eleora as she hooked it over Val’s ears. “Now you look quite dashing Valentine. Just be careful not to hook your fangs in it.”

“I’ll do my best,” said Val. “Thanks. This is great.”

“You look good in daisies,” said Tellias. “Here Juliette, take the one with roses on it. Pink roses. It suits your hazel eyes.”

We spend the rest of the afternoon, my brother Val, the elders, and I, over iced tumblers of blood with a squeeze of lime and fresh rosemary sprigs. It was over 100°F but we remained cool and happy to be in each other’s company.

In these times of uncertainty make sure you check in on your elders, and those who might need extra help. Even if you can’t see them in person please make that call, or call their caretakers. Just a few moments of your time can make the world of difference to someone isolated or out of touch.

Be aware of your actions, and that even though you might be alright, there are those who are fragile and by wearing a mask you can help prevent their memories and stories from being lost forever.

  • Wear a mask
  • Wash your hands
  • Call those you love and check in on them
  • Be cool, even in the heat and again, wear your mask.
  • Help others
  • Talk to your kids
  • Be concerned
  • Take this seriously. We’re not all so lucky to be Vampires. Take it seriously.

 

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman