About those Werewolves…and a short story (for Sunday)

Don't cross a Werewolf.

Don’t cross a Werewolf.


Like my brother Max always says, “I have a dog. Why the Hell would I want to date one?” OK that isn’t his exact words. He says “Why the Hell would I want to fuck one?” I like to at least give the pretense of being polite.

When it comes to the subject of WEREWOLVES  we’re all over the place. We meaning Vampires. By all over the place I mean that we accept them, we live with them and from time to time we’re even friends with them but NEVER are we romantically involved (not that we know of). And of course we don’t have big battles in dark woods or dark caverns with cosplay type costumes. We talk out our problems. Otherwise we’d be like Regular Humans, and heaven forbid we be like them. Of course there might be a little occasional growling or biting but we get over it fast.

What do my readers love? Or maybe the question should be about random readers. The three posts on this blog that get the most traffic are:

1. How to Respond to a Love Letter

2. Taking your teen to a metal concert

3. Halloween Hotties: Werewolves

Yes, Werewolves, right here on the Vampire blog. I’d like to say it is because last Halloween I mentioned Robert McCammon’s smoking hot Werewolf in the book “Wolf’s Hour”. And yes, that is in my top ten favorite books of all times. And I had the HONOR of being picked up by the authors social media. Wow.

Anyway, a year has passed and people still want to hear about Werewolves.

My friend Adam, who is a Werewolf, often complains that people always ask him about Vampires. Go figure. For the longest time Adam didn’t know I was a Vampire and I didn’t know he was a Werewolf. We hid the fact rather well, too well. We could have ended up killing each other, or worse. Anyway…

One evening we talked extensively about his ability to do true shape shifting. He said it was uncomfortable at times and took a toll on the body. He spoke of being part wolf in sort of a far off way.

“You see, Juliette,” he said to me one night over a bottle of wine on a chilly roof top, “I don’t get chilled when I see a wolf. I get chilled when I see a chimpanzee. I’m not so far off in my DNA from them but they look at me with uncomfortable and defiant eyes of something alien that wants to point an accusatory finger at me. When I look at a wolf I see my brother with a shared soul.”

I could see his point and we were drinking. As a Vampire I don’t shape shift. I just make others believe I do. Part of my hunt is in creating an illusions. With Werewolves things can get a bit more real.

Oh and by the way, Werewolf blood tastes like good well aged Bourbon. But you won’t be able to tell unless you’re a Vampire.

I’ll have more later on Werewolves during the month of October. In the meantime I’ll leave you with a little story I’ve posted here before. The night is still young and I have places to go and people to… well you know how it is.


~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman


Lon Chaney looking hot in a suit! Sweetheart stay out from under that full moon!

Lon Chaney looking hot in a suit! Sweetheart stay out from under that full moon!


Short Story Sunday:

Grandpa’s Dog

A short story from Marla Todd (featured in the WPaD short story anthology Creepies)


“I’m taking him to the vet and having him put down.” Jeff said into the phone.

“No you aren’t.” I said, ready to scream.

“It is cruel to make him suffer like this.”

“He isn’t our dog to put down.” I almost growled at my husband.

“I don’t care. Grandpa will understand. He’s always complaining about how he hates Bruce anyway.”

“The kids will be heartbroken.” I said trying to stall him.

“They’ll understand.”

“What about my mom? She’ll never forgive you.”

“Gretchen, I’m taking Bruce to the vet. I’m sorry.”

“I want to say good-bye.”

“Bruce will understand.” He hung up. Damn him.

Bruce was Grandpa’s dog. He was old. The oldest dog I knew. Jeff thought he was 16. I knew better. Jeff thought Bruce was half wolf and half Alaskan Malamute. I knew he was half Irish. Jeff liked to bake him organic dog treats. I knew Bruce preferred bourbon and prime rib. Jeff thought grandpa was crazy to have such a large dog. I knew Grandpa was half crazy and Jeff was right, it was about the dog, but it didn’t have anything to do with its size.

Once a month I kept the dog for Grandpa, while he “Went to the cabin with his old college buddies.” I hauled the dog to weddings, to funerals, to camping trips and hanging around the house. He’d been there for my college graduation, my wedding, for my kids. My mom had watched the old dog before me. My grandma before her.

Of course Jeff didn’t believe anything my family said about the damn dog. He’d spent years hearing us tell bad jokes and tall tales. It was how we spoke, in stories. I blame it on my Southern parents. Jeff just thinks I’m funny. He tells me I should have my own show on cable. HA HA HA. He thinks my family is quirky and quaint. Right now nothing was funny or quaint.

I raced home from the studio. I’m a photographer, mostly editorial, corporate portraits, product photos. Good thing I’m the owner of the business, otherwise I’d never deal with my husband, my children and Grandpa’s damn dog. I would have had the dog with me today but he was too stiff to climb into the car by himself and at 125 pounds I didn’t feel like lifting him today.

Jeff was still at home. I parked blocking the driveway. Thank God the kids were still in school. I have never been so angry with anyone in my entire life. I barged through the door yelling at my husband. “All I asked you to do was check in on him for me at lunch time and you decided to kill him. Well for once in your life listen to me…”

I yelling stopped when I saw Jeff. He had a towel around his hand. He was bleeding.

“The old guy bit me when I was trying to get him out of the house.” he said with a shrug of his shoulder.

I saw Bruce poke his old white muzzle around the corner.

“Why the hell did you have to bite him?” I yelled at the dog. Bruce tucked his tail and cowered. His ribs stuck out from his sides. He looked ancient and pathetic.

Jeff reached out to scratch the dog behind his ear. “Don’t yell at him. It’s like he sensed what I was going to do. Poor old guy was scared.”

“Don’t touch him.” I yelled. I looked at the wound on Jeff’s hand. It was clean. I went back to the dog. “Damn you, after all I’ve done for you.” Bruce looked at me with glassy brown eyes and shook, tail still between his legs.

Jeff put his arms around me “Gretch, don’t get mad at the dog. “

“You don’t understand,” I gasped.

“He’s old and scared.” Jeff said stroking my hair with his good hand. “You know dear, all that dog hears is “Bruce, blah blah blah. Blah blah blah”. He laughed and gave me a quick hug.

I pulled away. “He’s a werewolf.”

“Oh Honey, don’t call him that. He’s just an old arthritic dog. Poor old guy.” He leaned down to touch noses with the dog. Bruce licked Jeff’s face and thumped his tail on the floor. “You aren’t a werewolf are you old guy? You’re just a prince in disguise. You think she’ll give you a kiss?” Jeff started to make kissy noises.

I thought I was going to throw up.

“There’s a reason why we never see Grandpa and Bruce together.” I growled. They’re the same animal. Bruce isn’t 16, he’s 85. ”

Jeff took a deep breath. “I’m not going to put him down. We’ll wait till Grandpa gets home and discuss it with him. Werewolves. That’s a good one. So when you work at night does that mean you’re a vampire?” he laughed again. “You can bite my neck anytime.” He kissed my neck.

I backed away feeling the panic rushing up inside my body. “Jeff, it’s true and now….”

I couldn’t say the words. Now my husband was going to become a werewolf and I’d have one more old dog to take care of.


old dog


Damned Warlocks – Summer, Love, Dr. Who and Ancient Vampires

“Come now. Please come now,” said the quiet voice of the ancient Vampire on the end of the line.

Tellias had called. “What is it?” I asked knowing it could be anything. And I mean anything.

“I’m afraid I’m going to lose Eleora. She is slipping away.”

Elora his love of the past 2,000 or so years. My heart sank. My head spun. I grabbed my purse and drove through the orchards along the river to their farmhouse.

Tellias waited in the dusk on the front porch of the Queen Ann style Victorian. He wore a white Mexican wedding shirt and orange shorts in the summer heat. His long white blonde hair was pulled back. He didn’t look like that classic Vampire but who does these days? Nobody really.

“Where is she?” I asked as I bounded up the porch steps.

He took my hands in his long cool fingers. A look of panic came over his face. “He has come back for her. I know he has come back.”

“Who?” I asked.

“Dr. What.”

“Excuse me? You mean Dr. Who?”

“Who? That insufferable Warlock. Like Dr. What that character who keeps coming back reincarnated or whatever. The guy with the bow tie. I don’t know. I never watch the damn show.”

“Dr. Who.” I thought of the guy on that BBC show.

“What?” Tellias asked.

“His name is Dr. Who, not Dr. What. Dr. Who. The one who changes in a phone booth like Superman, only he isn’t… I don’t know what he is. I don’t know the show but I know who you’re talking about.”

“Oh. Well, no matter what they call him I don’t want him here.” Tellias started to raise his voice.

Well, now that we’re all throughly confused and my head is spinning more than normal. Abbot and Costello are done with their routine for now.

As ethereally handsome and beautiful Tellias is, Eleora is lovely in a way that any male of any kind easily falls in love with her. From John their handsome 60 something neighbor to Vampires to Werewolves and Warlocks and whatever… men tend to fall in love with the lovely and simple Eleora. Unfortunately Tellias lets it get the best of him. While I don’t think she has ever strayed I do believe there have been close calls.

Tellias brought me into the back parlor where Eleora and the Warlock sat under some large fans that once in a Caribbean plantation. The Warlock was stunning in the most fashionable of summer suits, sans the jacket, his silver hair thick and just brushing his shoulders. He looked all the bit of a leading man of the silver screen. Why are these guys always so damned good looking?

The Warlock looked at me with an intense disdain filled glare (Warlocks do that – another reason I dislike them.) “You’ve been under the weather Juliette. Odd for a Vampire. A little vertigo or perhaps…” I could hear a bit of old Welsh in his accent masked by the deep baritone of his voice.

“I’m fine.” I said. I am a bit under the weather with a mysterious head spinning but resent the invasion of my privacy.

“Are you fine? Are you really?”

I ignored him, least I tell him to shut the fuck up or rip his neck out.

I took a deep breath knowing that he is harmless. I know he has been a good friend to Eleora over the centuries. It is a friendship others of my kind (Vampires) have a difficult time understanding, like my friendships with humans and Werewolves.

That said, I wanted to tell him to go back to Halloween Town or wherever he’d come from. I could stand John, the neighbor who’d known the Eleora and Tellias since he was a child. John was a real friend. But the Warlock was a different kind of creature, one who morphed and lived like a lie for centuries, conjuring up new forms for his spirit to pass to. He always looked the same to me but yet different. I have to admit it really creeps me out. Yeah, I’m a Vampire but a lot of things creep me out, Warlocks being one of them.

My head spun for some unknown reason so I went upstairs to one of the lavish bedrooms and sank into a soft bed. I couldn’t stand, but I had to get up. I’m a mom. I have responsibilities. I take care of everyone. I have things to do. But I was suddenly suspended into a spinning world where I couldn’t see straight or stand without feeling as if I was going to fall. Maybe I just needed fresh blood. I don’t know what it was. But like I said, I’m the mom so this shouldn’t be happening.

I could hear them talking downstairs. I thought of when I was a child in this same room listening in on the adults talking downstairs. I’d hear things and store away the information into the drawers of my brain only to take them out later when needed. Some things are still jammed back behind those dusty drawers forgotten and lost, waiting to be taken out one day.

I heard the door opened and expected Tellias. It was the Warlock. I sat up, fangs ready.

“Stop. She was mine first. She was mine before he came from Rome.”

“She was never yours.” I said. “She was always his. It was set in time before you were ever born.” I don’t know why I said that. Maybe from being in the mindset of writing romance stories… anyway…

He just looked at me as if I was crazy or that I was right.  “You make me uneasy Warlock. Go away before I steal your soul and turn you into a husk of your former existence.” There again, I just spat out the words. I couldn’t wait to get home and tell my husband what I’d said.

He left and I slept for another five or six yours. In the meantime Tellias called my husband and the Warlock left.

Eleora danced around and sang as if nothing had happened out of the ordinary. I swear, she has become so simple minded that I’m surprised Tellias hasn’t gone insane. But then again, when one is in love for a long long long time those things don’t matter. You love the person you are with and the person you used to be with.

So shall we all start to countdown to Halloween? That is easy when almost every single day is Halloween.

I shall continue to rest with the sounds of the baseball games on the TV and the quiet snoring of my calico cat.

I’ll call Tellias later to see if he is alright. I know he is, for today he and his love are alone.

So anyway, yes, Halloween. It will be here soon. Get ready and please, be careful of witching kinds of folk.

Oh right, one more thing. For the best witching story read “Young Goodman Brown” by Nathaniel Hawthorne. It is a wonderful classic tale that will give you the creeps and the chills and make you smile because it is so beautifully written.


~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman

Short Story Sunday: Slut

College is starting soon. One of the big things everyone is talking about is sexual assault on campus or in college towns. I’ve talked about it with my two kids who are in college. Everyone has, at least everyone who is a decent parent.

So I get this call from Hodge Williams. Yes, that Hodge Williams. Everyone remembers him.

“Bart, how are you?” As soon as he spoke I wondered what he wanted.

“Hodge. Fine. Great. Life is good. What’s up?”

“I’m writing a story on the history of sexual harassment and violence at universities in the US. I tried to contact your sister but she wouldn’t return my calls.”


“Yes, Beth. She kind of got around so I was thinking she might have experienced first hand, you know, she was at risk.”

“What do you mean by at risk?”

“Oh come on, your sister was a slut. Everyone knew it.”

I sat there with the phone a bit stunned. He just called my sister a slut.

“Hodge, you’re an asshole. In fact you’ve always been an asshole.” I hung up the phone. What an asshole.

After sitting for a few minutes and collecting my thoughts I called my sister and told her about the conversation.

“What an asshole,” she said. “Sure I was sleeping with his best friend without the benefit of being his best friend’s official girlfriend. OK I also slept with another one of his friends but we were in college. We were young.”

“Did you ever sleep with Hodge?”

“No. Hell no. He was always making passes at me and grabbing me. Hodges had that Madonna/Whore things going on in his head. A girl was either a virgin until marriage or a whore. Plus we’re not like him, you know the religion thing, so he just assumed I was a whore.”

“But you didn’t have sex with him.”

“I know. That makes me a whore. He called any girl who wouldn’t have sex with him a whore.”

“What an asshole.”

“I know. Believe me, I know. I mean, if the guy had asked me to go see a movie or go for a walk or just spent time talking that would have been different but he was just all over me like…yuck. He really called you? I can’t believe he’d have the gall to do that. Asshole.”

After we got off the phone with the promise of a lunch date later in the week I got to thinking about my own kids.

I’d spoken with both my daughter and son about sexual predators. I’ve done the best to teach them not to be bully bait. I’ve taught them to stand up for themselves and for others.

From experience I knew that bullies never grow up and most don’t change. 

Hodge never got the answer he wanted. Over the years Beth had a few close calls with sexual predators but she always ended up safe either by being with friends or using physical force to get out of it (exactly twice as she told me.) That didn’t include unwanted advances by guys like Hodge. And even though Hodge didn’t use force it still hurt emotionally that he’d think so little of her or of any girl.

I wanted to pound the crap out of him. Then I thought about how many other women out there who thought the guy was an asshole. That made me smile. Spread the word ladies, spread the word.

That evening after work I talked to my wife about it. She shook her head and said she’d had similar experiences. More anger surged through my brain, then sadness deep in my soul.

We all judge others. We all make assumptions. We all call names even if it isn’t out loud. We all talk behind the backs of others. Maybe we need to stop. It isn’t easy. It isn’t even practical.

Anyway, if you see Hodge Williams call him and an asshole and tell him that Beth and Bart say hello.

vm girl in woods

Why can’t you be more like beer?

“Why can’t you be more like beer?” And other stupid things human guys say.

I hear a lot about young guys living in a world of video games and not being able to keep relationships with women. Believe me, this has been going on for a long time – long before video games.

Want to know a secret? The females of the species say the same kinds of stupid things too.

This isn’t a pop quiz but let me know if you have the answer to this question. Not the title of this blog post but THIS question: Why do guys like to talk about how much they love beer, their truck, their motorcycle, bicycle, exgirlfriend, best-friend’s-girlfriend or other stupid shit when they are attempting to impress a female? Then they get flustered and think the poor girl they’re with is boring or less than perfect because she doesn’t love beer, trucks, playing baseball or isn’t the identical twin of his best friend’s perfect girlfriend. Weird how that happens.

Or I could just write a blog post called “He is really looking for a guy in a female centerfold body.” Or “If you want to be with a guy then be with a guy.”

I’m writing this because I’m around a lot of teens and they talk a lot about relationships. There is so much confusion. So adults do two things generally.

1. They say NOTHING or end the conversation.

2. They tell funny/weird stories about people they know (including themselves.)

The same applies to adult friends but that can be more of a challenge. Unfortunately some people don’t want to learn from their mistakes. They have such rock solid notions of… well, how things should be, but things aren’t like that, people aren’t like that soooooo….you might as well say nothing most of the time and just know you’re going to get another good story to laugh about sooner or later (usually sooner.) Did that make any sense?

By the way, I’ve been around for a long time. I’m not talking about anyone who reads this blog so don’t think I’m writing about you… or I WILL write about you. If you do feel like you are displaying weird dating/relationship behaviors you need to stop it right now.

So back to the issue on hand…

We’re telling funny stories and cautionary tales.

My husband always tells my daughter those three important words that all fathers need to say: Boys are stupid.

When a guy says “Damn you’re beautiful” and you turn around to say thank you and find out that he is talking to his truck, something is amiss. Something is stupid. Someone is stupid (hint, it isn’t the girl.)

What am I trying to say to these guys? What should you say ladies?

Say, “Grow up.” Yes dude, you need to grow up and get real. You can still have fun if you just open your mind. Opening your mind doesn’t always need to include beer or pot or expecting a girl to be just like your guy friends.

The other day I was hiking with my kids and my niece and her boyfriend. We were talking about this stuff and all tended to agree. Of course not ALL guys are like this. Of course they aren’t. But the ones who are like that make for a lot of frustration. Don’t be one of those guys. Don’t waste your time on one of those guys. There are too many out there who do appreciate the opposite sex.

Don’t worry, I’ll have more posts about “needy women” and other types of weirdness coming up soon. I’ll have equal opportunity fun for everyone.

There are also those “beer girls”, you know the girls who try to be one of the guys just a little bit too hard. Ugh.

Or you could just date a Vampire which brings an entirely different set of challenges. I’ll blog on that later this week.


~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman






Charting out stress then stepping away slowly

“So he says he wants me to turn him into a Vampire. I told him no. He has no idea. No idea at all.”

I listened to my friend Elizabeth as we sat over coffee in the dark cool little cafe that caters to Vampires and others who are “different.”

I’d heard this story or variations of it over and over. I was listening but thinking about the million of things I have to juggle with family and work and everything else. I was thinking about people I’d like to throw down wells and in ditches with rabid wolves and rip out their necks…rather than do that I sketched out a chart.

I always tell my kids: Before you act take a deep breath and wait it out. Write it down. Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait.

My life is like this chart. It goes up and down. This is typical for most working moms. I drew this one out by hand. I could do it in Excel but I didn’t feel like it. Sometimes it is just easier to do it by hand.



Anyway… Elizabeth continued her story about the Vampire wannabe. “I told him that when you’re a Vampire you carry around heartbreak for centuries. He asked about joy. I told him no, not so much. Joy is short-lived. I can be content and somewhat happy but that bliss that comes with living. Actually when I was alive, I mean, when I was one of them, I didn’t have much bliss. I don’t think I ever had bliss. Am I making any sense?”

I told her she was making as much sense as I ever make, which lately I feel isn’t much.

I’m always overhearing conversations. Everyone is lugging around kids, dealing with family, wishing work was better, being annoyed and frustrated about everything and wondering what we can do about it or not even trying because trying doesn’t even help. Damned if you do and damned if you don’t. I don’t listen to the news. I just pay the tax bills and hope the schools stay open and try to avoid the pot holes in the streets.

It wouldn’t be easier to be a Shadow Creeper because they feel nothing but sadness or misplaced hopeless passion. At least Elizabeth and I can laugh. And we do. We take a moment or two to go off the cart – as in step down and forget everything else in the world so that we can sit back and laugh a bit.

Elizabeth’s phone started to vibrate making the table shake. I glanced down. It was my brother Max.

“I have to get this,” she said. “Work stuff.” They are the Vampire equivalent to Special Forces. They kick ass on Vampire Hunters and Rogue Vampires and other nasty creatures.

Her side of the conversation went like this: Sure, I’ll be there early. I have the reports. No they were acting alone. It should be an easy fix. Better than that, I have to combination. No kidding…I don’t know where she is. Did you call her?…It isn’t my day to watch her…I’m sorry if your little fuck buddy won’t answer your calls but did it ever cross your mind that maybe she wants more? … No of course not, you told her that she’d never be more. You told her that she’d never be good enough…you might have well said it…she loved you and you used her…She didn’t have to tell you. …You’re so stupid Max…No, I won’t… Your hurt her. She rejected you because she didn’t want to be hurt not because she didn’t want you. You’re such an asshole sometimes…Sure. Do you want to talk to your sister? Juliette is right here. Talk to her.

I took the phone. Max made a bit of small talk then asked me if I heard what Elizabeth had said to him. I lied and told him I didn’t hear anything. He then asked me if I’d call our mother about something for him. I say OK with no intention of calling her today. He could call her himself. I was tired of doing it all for everyone. I did end up calling her.

Our friend Pierce showed up and sat next to Elizabeth, his arm around her shoulders. She mentioned Max and his girl problems. Pierce shrugged. He’d been friends with Max long enough to just shrug, plus disagreeing with two female Vampires isn’t always the wisest thing to do. He’d spent the night dealing with Goblins so he was ready for some humor at my brother’s expense.

I needed coffee and some snarky fun and talk with Elizabeth and Pierce. That is what friends are for.

So after a stressful week, I’ll spare you the horrible details, I went home and settled my kids for the weekend. One was going to Tahoe with my brother Aaron’s kids. The other was going out with friends (yes, I had to drive.) I got a call from a friend with an invitation to go out. I needed that to get my mind off of everything.

I called my husband and in a few minutes I’ll be back in traffic. We’ll meet with friends and the stress will melt away with the sharing of stories and good spirit.

No matter how high the stress chart is I know that I have people I can depend on, or at least call. I have people I can care about. Yes, they care about me, but I’m glad to care about them.

Wishing you all a stress free weekend, without Goblins.

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman


Friends and Family and Frustration

Obbie – short for Obsidian Reed, the second person I turned into a Vampire. My mother never approved. Then again she doesn’t approve of much of anything I do.

I don’t want to be like my own mother.

She was there and sacrificed for us but she never understood who her children were.

She wasn’t someone I could look up to. She wasn’t someone I wanted to be or be like. Granted she is brilliant and accomplished but she is cold. I know, cold isn’t a bad thing if you’re a Vampire, but it just isn’t my cup of blood.

Don’t get me wrong, there was no abuse, no horrible unspeakable things, just nothing in common with her younger children. No understanding of who they were or who they wanted to be. She could never understand. It is the way she is wired.

She is lovely and all the Vampires adore her…

When she calls I cringe. I was having a good day, then her voice. Then negativity. Never asking me how I’m doing or what I think.

My brother Val marvels at how our mother can put a negative spin on anything.

Things are ok, but I don’t want to be that kind of mother for my own children. I’m not that kind of mother. I want to shower them with feelings of joy.

I must watch to make sure I don’t become that woman… the one who finds negativity in everything. I don’t want to be judging my children. Of course my mother never judges my children, only the younger three of her five children, the three who in my opinion are doing the best. We’re the most boring and non-vampirish of her brood – that is in her opinion, which is the only opinion in her world.

She adores her grandchildren. The grandchildren get all the trash talk about their parents,  my brother Aaron (the only other sibling with children) and me. No use asking her to stop. The kids are old enough to think it is hilarious.

You know, I’m talking care of my kids, my marriage, my job plus the elders and my siblings messes so I don’t need anyone to give me advice. I’m handing it all as best as I can, which is better than most.

So the other day I was trying to decompress from a phone call my old friend Obbie showed up at my door like a bright and shining moonbeam.

“You’re always doing interesting things with Samantha.” Obbie tells me. “She isn’t that bad. At least you have a mom.”

“I just wish…”

He smiled with his charming Vampire-next-door way. “You think about it too much.”

Maybe I do. There comes a time when we all have things we just have to let go of and accept – even if it takes 100 years or so.

It would be a busy night. Obbie and I took my kids out to see the Elders, two ancient Vampires who often are in need of company and help with little things. They are frustrating, the ancient ones, but always so sweet and loving. They look at the world through a crystal that shines many colors. They understand me. As much as I can, I understand them as well.

Obbie also understands me as only a dear friend can. Family is important but there are some things that only our friends “get” about us. They know us in a different way, a new way that isn’t out of a sense of obligation or blood.

The first time I met Obbie was at an art show in 1889. We started to talk and talked and laughed all night. About a week later he said, “I wish this could last forever.” I told him it could. My mother did not approve. But that’s ok. Obbie adores her and I guess… well that is just weird, but that’s ok. Most things in my life are weird. And you know, sometimes weird is good.


Have a good week everyone.

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman