Tag Archives: college

Slut

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This morning I read that several fraternities at Swarthmore College are closing down due to “rape rooms.” College has long been a traditional place for rape culture, slut shaming, sexism, and general bad behavior. Some colleges are worse than others.

My daughter, whom I’m proud to say was just accepted into three of the University of California campuses, is accepting at at a campus which is known for not having a large Greek presence. That particular school is also known for not having a huge “party culture” which is fine for me. My son Garrett DID go to a school with a large party culture and survived and thrived. Like I always say, you have to talk to your children about these things long before they start college or high school – start before puberty.

So in light of all of this, I’m posting a story you might have read before about double standards, college, and general bad behavior. People might behave badly but it does not mean you, or your kids, have to put up with it.

Slut

My children are in college now which is sometimes even more scary than elementary or high school. 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.”

“Beth?”

“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.

~ end

 

Remember to always talk to your kids about these things. Also tell them to support, respect, and have compassion for others as well. In other words tell them not to be entitled judgmental assholes.

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman

Just DON’T: To those who discourage, stereotype and otherwise pigeon hole young people.

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Pigeon Hole: Definition of put (someone) in a pigeonhole. : to unfairly think of or describe (someone or something) as belonging to a particular group, having only a particular skill, etc.

If you continue to Pigeon Hole young people I will consider you an Ass Hole.

I was out the other night with friends, who do not have children, and the subject came up of how my children are doing.

My daughter is waiting to hear from the four colleges she has applied for as a transfer student from the local community college. I’m doing the happy dance because she was accepted into U.C. Santa Barbara. Woot Woot.

So, for the 357th time my dear friend tells me, “you know that is where my niece got into drugs.”

My standard answer is usually, “kids get into drugs at every school, even schools like BYU.”

This time I said, “My children were not brought up in a hyper controlling, over protective, helicopter parenting home. Their father and I talked to them frankly about drugs, alcohol and what happened to friends of ours who were abusers.”

We (my husband and I) have always talked not just to or at our kids, but WITH our kids. We’ve had two sided discussions about all issues that will come up with our now adult children. Sex, drugs, and Rock N Roll (they know the difference between Led Zeppelin and lead paint.)

If someone tells you their child is going to a school, be it UCLA or Monterey Bay State (big or small) congratulate your friend. They have a child going to college. The same goes for the child who goes into the Navy, goes to a trade school, gets into a apprentice program, or does anything that will help them on that journey of life.

Don’t say how shitty their choice is.

The subject also came up about job choices and training. Family members LOVE to push younger family members into career paths they will HATE. Heaven forbid someone go into something strange like graphic design and illustration (my profession of many many many many years), or anything remotely involved in the arts or creativity. Heaven forbid someone go into a trade like being a mechanic. Hey if you love cars work with them. Any job you love is a good job. If you love cleaning toilets then do it. One day you’ll run your own multimillion dollar janitorial company.

My friends asked what another young person in my life wanted to do. I said he wanted to go into film or TV. Then I was asked what his real job was going to be aka back-up job.

I live in California. There are a lot of jobs in film and TV is you have passion, talent, and a drive. I’m not going to stomp on the dreams of any young people.

If you want to go into art – DO IT. If you want to work in a museum – DO IT. If you want to sing or act – DO IT. Yes a back up plan is ok, but think of all of the middle-aged people you know who have said “I wish I had…”

Don’t hate on the dreams of youth. A lot of young people have a plan for those dreams. Now they have access to the internet and other resources we (parents) could never dream of when we were young.

I’m not saying don’t have a back-up plan. Having a large set of skills is a good thing but…

I know we don’t want to see young people hurt, but killing dreams will do more damage in the long run.

Encourage our youth. Celebrate our hard-working youth. Say “GOOD JOB” to the kids who are studying, planning, researching, discussing, and doing.

My final words are for those of you who are not so young. You have dreams. You can also follow your passions. Nobody is there to stop you. Maybe you can’t do it on a grand scale, but do it small.

You can do it too. You’re never too old for most things. Don’t ever forget it. And don’t let the assholes pigeon hole you. Don’t.

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman

 

phole

SHAME ON YOU. College Admissions Cheating.

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I’m sure by now you’ve all heard or read about the dozens of wealthy parents who have been caught in a nationwide cheating/fraud. In order to get their brats into a hard to get into college such as Stanford, Yale, USC, and UCLA, these parents bribed coaches to say their children were star athletes, and they paid a college prep organization to take SAT and other tests on behalf of the students, or correct their answers.

This included famous parents such as actresses Felicity Huffman and Lori Loughlin.

In 2012 when I started this blog most of the posts were about Middle School and High School happenings.

Over the past few years it has been about college. That includes college admissions.

I’ve watched about a dozen kids, including my own, work hard to get into Colleges and Universities. They’ve busted their butts to get good grades. They’ve worked hard and smart in their extracurricular activities. They’ve put their hearts and souls, and everything else they have into getting into their chosen school.

I’ve also heard heartbreaking stories of amazing kids, with great grades and impressive achievements get rejection letters from all of their top choices. There is absolutely no logic or reason these kids should not have been accepted. My heart just broke every time I heard about another unreasonable rejection letter.

Maybe now we know at least part of the story. Douchebag parents with a shit load more money than your average middle class family are bribing and cheating to get their little lazy ass darlings into good schools.

Is this jealously of the rich and famous? No, because I could have afforded to cheat to get my child into a fine university, but the price would have been too high. The price of losing my child’s respect and knowing I’d done a bad thing would have been too high.

There is no room for cheating when it comes to parenting. There is no room for cheating when it comes to life.

History is full of people who have cheated to get into the right college and get where they are right now, including some who hold extremely high offices. They threaten to sue those who uncover their dishonesty. They brush it off. Some die with their secrets.

The same kids who cheat to get into a school are the same ones who get money from mommy and daddy to hire someone to write their papers. They’re the same parents who will pad their children’s resumes with fake jobs. The list goes on and on.

Felicity Huffman and her husband William H. Macy are acting as bad, or even worse than the characters on his show Shameless.

Families who are involved from admissions cheating should be banned from any respectable College or University, public or private.

For those of you who say the students should not be punished, only the parent: I say bullshit.

Most kids I know don’t even let their parents help with applications, writing admissions essays, helping with their SAT, or anything else that has to do with the actual admissions process.

As parents we are allowed to go with them on school tours, listen to their concerns, pay for anything we can, and give them moral support. The young people in my life would be absolutely horrified if they knew we’d cheated on their behalf. None of these kids would want to ever talk to their parents again. They’d say NO.

But you know what? I am sure the pampered children of the rich and famous cheaters were fine with this. They never say “NO MOM.” Cheating and paying to get everything they want is normal for them. They don’t know what it means to work hard.

The children I feel sorry for are the ones who did not know what their parents did. They will suffer in the fall out of their parent’s bad actions.

Money can buy a lot. I have no problems with money. I have problems with cheaters and bad parents. I have no problems with parents who help their kids get jobs and educational opportunities HONESTLY and above board. I have problems with cheaters and liars.

I have problems with people who STEAL university spots from hard working deserving kids.

  • Don’t cheat.
  • Don’t be a douche.
  • Support your kids in their dreams without doing it all for them.
  • Talk with your kids.
  • Encourage your kids to be independent.
  • Be a person that your child will look up to, or at least love and respect.

 ~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman

 

Unknown-2

This looks like how I feel about the subject of you cheating to get your child into the university of your choice.

 

For more information go to slate.com, npr.com, cnn.com or your favorite news source. Read all about it.

 

 

 

 

 

Vlad’s Vampire Diary: Jingle Bells

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Dear Diary,

Today the rain comes down like tears of an old out of touch Vampire.

Losing three hundred years due to being locked up in a crypt has made me so confused about so many things. I have lost three centuries. Three fast centuries.

I arrived home after a night out with a sick friend. Yes, my existence as a Vampire in the 21st Century is much different than that of the 17th Century. That was the last century of my old life. How times have changed (that is a new modern expression.)

Last night while at the bar where I find a many of my dinner companions I noticed my friend Cassie, the owner of the establishment did not seem well. Upon taking her hand I could tell she was not altogether herself.

“Let me take you home. Your helpers can close for you,” I said to her ever so gently. She could not say no. After all I am a Vampire. I heard someone say “Cassie is getting lucky tonight.” I had no idea why they would say that about a sick woman.

I helped her into bed, then made her sleep. I sank my fangs into her wrist and took her blood, then took the illness out out of her body. Then I slept on her couch. When I woke Cassie was feeling better. She smiled and called me sweet. She did not taste me, so I am not sure what she meant by sweet but I will assume it was a compliment.

I drove home with the taste of her blood still in my mouth and a slight headache.

Next door, standing on the front porch of her home was young Kylee.

“Why are you standing out in the cold?” I asked her as she shivered like a frightened puppy.

“I carpooled to school and accidentally left my keys in the house.

I did not know what she meant by car pool and did not ask. I can not imagine driving a car into the water on a day already wet with rain. Taking pity on the girl I invited her into my home.

There I offered her tea and peeled an orange from the tree in my yard.

“Thanks,” she said taking the tea and sitting on a chair.

“Did you have classes today at the university?” I asked her.

“Community college. Yes, I had a final today in Economics. I aced it too. Woo Hoo. I’ll transfer to a UC in the fall. I’m not sure where yet. I applied for a bunch of schools. Irvine is my first choice, but I’ll accept Berkeley or Santa Barbara.”

“UC?”

“University of California. Where did you go to college Vlad?”

“Nowhere. There were no universities where I came from.”

Kylee’s eyes opened wide. “Really? Were you in a war zone or something?”

“It was something like a war zone at times. Only those who wished to have religious training went away. Those in my community did not seek out religious training.” I did not tell her that we were Vampires and it was three hundred years ago.

“Later, when I was older,” I did not tell her how much older, “I did visit some universities, but not as a full time student such as yourself.”

“Where are you from, originally?”

“Some called it the Tenebrosus Mountains.”

She looked at her phone and in lightning fast speed put in the name of my homeland. “It says here it doesn’t exist as a country anymore. It looks beautiful. Did you ever see this castle?”

She held up her phone and showed me the ruins of my once beautiful home. She continued to give me more information that I wanted. “It says that the castle belonged to  a Vampire King named Vlad who had the face of an angel.” She looked up at me. “That could be you. You have the face, but I can’t see you as a Vampire.”

“What could you see me as?” I asked young Kylee.

“I don’t know. But not a Vampire.” Then she laughed a long drawn out laugh that came straight from her belly. Then for reasons I do not know I started to laugh. We could not stop.

Kylee was a wealth of information about everything. She told me why Frosty the Snowman and I saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus were creepier than Baby it’s Cold Outside. Kylee thought it was weird that everyone sang Jingle Bells but nobody, absolutely nobody used a seligh with horses, and it never snowed where we live. She said so many Christmas songs were written in Hollywood but it never snowed their either. She told me the difference between Marxism and Socialism and Capitalism. She told me the difference between Emo music and Pop and Indie Rock. She said she was upset because of Global Warming and nasty old men who wanted to take away the right of young people with their religious dogma. She told me that French Roast coffee was just crappy beans that were burned to mask bad flavor. She said that her parents were weird but in a good way. She asked me if I was a feminist. I said yes, because I believe it has to do with women. I like women. Kylee said I was a good man.

It is not often a Vampire is called a good man to his face.

I had no idea what most of the things were that she spoke of but I enjoyed the joy of her youthfulness. Young Kylee will go far.

After Kaylee’s father came home, after she left, I pondered the thought of being a good man. I am a successful Vampire. Then I poured a goblet of blood and sat in front to the fire and pondered the idea of going to college. I do not know what I would major in.

~ Vlad

 

Dear Diary,

It is now December and there are tiny colored lights upon houses on my street. Each night like mushrooms more lights pop up.

I put up red and green lights all over the front of my house. While I was up upon the ladder, putting lights along the garage doors two women came by walking thier dogs. They smiled. I said hello. They greeted me back and said the lights looked good. As they walked away I could hear them giggle and say I was cute and had a nice ass. I did not put up a nativity scene so I do not know where they saw the ass. Nor did I know being upon a ladder was cute.

My mind suddenly went back to Yule season when I was young. The year was 1498. I was young then. Only 155, but old enough to be Vampire King and rule the people of the night and all the lands surrounding my castle and woods.

One day, on the first snow, as tradition called a young man was brought to me one night. He was an ordinary man of about 20 years, a gift from one of my loyal Vampire Knights. I bid my Knight leave us alone. My Knight was loyal but rather annoying.

The man looked around the room with the beautiful furnishings and polished wood floors. He glanced upon the large bed.

“I am not…I am here with my wife,” he said.

“Congratulations,” I said. “You are not here for the pleasures of the flesh. I am having you for dinner.” I smiled and stepped towards him. He looked into my face, a face with blue eyes, the beauty of a God, with a dimple to disarm any man or woman, surrounded by golden hair. “What is your name?” I asked quietly.

“David,” he said.

“David please sit,” I said. And he sat. I gave him no other choice. I looked into his eyes and made him sleep, the sleep of a trance of those who encounter Vampires. Then I sank my fangs into his neck and drank my fill. It was not enough to kill him, but enough to make him weak for a few hours. I searched his memories, then I gave him dreams of warm beaches and quiet waves on the sand. He had never seen such things. He would be confused by it later but that was not my problem.

I also saw in his mind that his wife was with child. At that time his wife was in another part of the castle with my wife. Yes, I had a wife. A wife I loved. I believed she loved me but I do not know if that was ever true. I do not know where she is now, if she is anywhere at all. I do not know if I am even still married to her. Our country, laws, and any records are no longer in existence so I will assume I am no longer married to the Vampire bitch. Even for a Vampire her heart was brittle and cold..

My wife was passionate, with a sharp mind, and a sharp temper. I loved everything about her, at least for the first hundred years or so. Sometimes I wonder where she is but I do not look for her. It is easy today to look on the Internet for a lost person, but not when looking for Vampires. We make sure we will not be found. Maybe she would be on the Dark Web. Maybe she is in Hell. One can only hope. What if I did find her? What would I do? The woman would no doubt rather come at me with a dagger and carve out my heart and eat it than say hello to me.

When David woke I sat with him and asked him of his life. David was an artist but he was tired of the old ways of painting. I told David that I would help him and his wife with child. What can I say? I am, what do they call it now, a softie, even then.

“Give me your wrist David,” I said. He slowly held out his arm. “I do not have all day,” I said taking his wrist with my hand. I sank my teeth into his wrist and drank his blood. I lifted my head, then caught a drop of blood on my finger, then put my finger in my mouth. David watched with wide eyes and no words.

“You know what I am David, do you not? I am a Vampire. I drink the blood of men to survive. I do not follow the rules of men or the rules of the universe that you know. I am the King of the people of the night. I have a proposition for you.”

David looked at me, his eyes growing large.

I continued, “My friend Randolpho’s good friend Raphael was planning on some large paintings, frescos, or something along those lines in the Vatican. Randolpho always had an affinity for religious places. Randolpho is always on the edge, always lurking around where he is not quite welcome. Always pretending to be something he is not. But are not all Vampires guilty of that?”

David and his woman Annalisa went to Italy and raised their children under the warm sun surrounded by fruit trees and love. He went to work for Raphael in the Vatican. Later David met another artist and called Michelangelo and posed for a statue of the Biblical David. The statue is in Florence. I understand it is quite famous.

I thought about Kylee. She is about the same age as David was. I believe Kylee lives a much more interesting life and will not be posing without her clothing on for all to see hundreds of years later.

~ Vlad

 

Dear Diary,

Tonight my love Gillian came to my house and we decorated a Christmas tree with red glass balls, and small white lights.

I told her that my neighbors saw an ass in the neighborhood, and asked if she saw it on her way over.

“An ass, like a burro?” She asked.

“No not a hole, an ass,” I told her.

“An ass hole,” she said. Then she started to laugh and could not stop. I have learned not to ask questions when this happens.

They are grazing animals with hooves like small horses. They do not live in holes. Gillian knows that. I do not understand her at times.

I placed a golden star upon the top of the tree as Gillian looked on. Then I kissed her cold lips and told her that I loved her.

As the red and green light twinkled outside I knew I would make sure she would never waste her time kissing Santa Claus, or anyone else.

~ Vlad

 

Kissed by a Vampire

Kissed by a Vampire

 

Click here for all of Vlad’s Vampire Diary Adventures

 

 

 

 

 

Allegory of Art and Life and Whatever (and College Students and Vampires)

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I couldn’t sleep last night thinking about art.

Yesterday I stopped by my brother Val’s office/house downtown. I’ve always loved this large stick style home. He purchased it around 1910 and has done a remarkable job of keeping it up over the years when so many Victorian and Craftsman style homes went into disrepair.

Val’s office is on the bottom floor. The second floor is a comfortable space where Val keeps his official home address. On the third floor is an apartment occupied by a couple of college students.

Neither one of the young men, now in their third year of college, would have been able to go to school away from home without the horrible nightmare of college loans had it not been for Val’s Home Away From Home (so they call it.)

I’m not completely sure where he found Colton and Luke. I think Val met Colton studying in the old cemetery or something along those lines and the other kid came along. Colton was worried he’d have to move home and transfer schools and majors, or maybe just drop out. In exchange for rent they watch the place when Val is gone, do yard work and house cleaning, and keep their grades up.

The boys aren’t Vampires either, and they have no idea about Val. All they know is that Val is exceptionally cool and a little different.

Anyway, I was at Val’s thinking about art. Luke showed me some sketches he’d done of some friends of his on his way out to classes at UC Davis (a short trip across the causeway.) The kid is good. I’m ready to beat the crap out of anyone who discourages him.

Val was at his big desk with his computer checking all kinds of financial stuff I know nothing about. I looked up on the wall at his Maynard Dixon painting. It was of a woman wrapped in a shawl looking in profile towards a gold and orange landscape.

“You should donate that to the museum,” I said. “It is a hidden uncatalogued gem.

“Maybe. I haven’t had it that long.”

“You bought it from the artist. How old can it be?”

“Sometime in the 30’s. A mere matter of days for the typical Vampire.” He smiled and gave me that amused look that makes the girls all melt. Well except me because I’m his sister and I know his tricks.

“Why don’t you donate some of your art Juliette? God knows you’ve got it coming out of your ears.”

“I can’t. Not yet. I’m too attached. And I need more. I always need more art.”

Val laughed. I continued. “I bid on something for the art auction, you know the one for public television. I’m spending at least one day a week at the museum. Clara is taking an art history class so we’re talking about a lot of art. That isn’t a bad thing mind you. I’m also working on my art again. I’m also reading a book about art. My house is full of art. I’m going to go into an art coma.”

“Is that a bad thing?” My brother looked at me as if I’d lost my mind.

“No Val, it isn’t a bad thing. It is a good thing. I’m just kind of overwhelmed. And I don’t have a Burning Question for Saturday.”

He told me to make it about art. We thought about it and threw around a lot of really stupid ideas, which is par for my Burning Questions feature.

I’ll think of something, or use one of our ideas.

Around that time Luke came rambling downstairs to say hello to Val. He was a typical twenty year old male with that sort of cute and, always together, always smart, and always on the verge of some sort of disaster look. It was charming.

“The outside lightbulbs are out, on the front and back porches.” said Luke. “Do you have any extras?”

“Sure. In the second story hall closet, next to the laundry room.”

“Thanks. Hey, can I ask you something?”

“Go ahead,” said my brother.

“You kind of like the dark don’t you. I know you aren’t cheap so it isn’t the electricity bill you’re worried about,” said Luke.

“Good observation,” said Val. “Glad you asked. My eyes are sensitive to the light and I just need to rest them.”

“Makes sense. OK I’ll change those bulbs, then I have to study.”

“On a Friday?” I asked.

“For a bit. I’m going out later. There’s a movie at the Tower, Sisters Brothers or something like that. I’m going with Madeline.” Then he gave a shy smile.

Val slipped him a couple of twenties. We talked for a little bit longer.

Val and I are very old. It is always good to be around the very young.

But now my old brain must think up a Burning Question for October 6. It will be something about art – that thing which has twisted up my heart and soul for as long as I can remember.

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman

 

Allegory of Painting

Allegory of Painting, Crocker Art Museum, Sacramento, CA

 

 

 

Musings on Cats and Vampire Summers

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Oscar, pre-scar days.

I was out early this morning getting something out of my car. OK, I was looking for my purse. I thought I left it in my car last night. I didn’t. While I was outside I heard the sound of an angry cat. You know that snarling, growling, hit pitched sound from Hell that cats project when they’re really pissed off and ready for a fight.

It wasn’t one of my cats. At least it didn’t sound like either one of them. I decided to walk down the street to the mail boxes and find out where the gosh awful noise was coming from.

My cat Oscar, my sweet baby boy was standing in the front yard of my neighbor Josh. Josh lives alone. He rides his bicycle when it is 120 degrees F outside. Everybody likes Josh, but I don’t think he has a cat.

On the front porch (a favorite place of the neighborhood wild turkeys) was the largest calico cat I have ever seen. Her head was the size of a honeydew mellon. She was screaming at Oscar.

Oscar sat there and meowed with a confused little voice. Then he looked at me, then looked at the giant calico.

“Hey, Oscar,” I said. “Come on baby, let’s go home.”

As always, Oscar looks hopeful when his mom (me) is around. I’m always there to rescue him. I scooped him up.

I walked home like a crazy cat lady with Oscar under one arm, and an armful of junk mail in the other arm.

Oscar will always be like a baby, despite a notched ear and a scar across his face. He is thirteen pounds of fur and love. He is also an asshole, but he is my asshole.

This has been a long hot summer. Not all of us are handling it as well as my bike riding neighbor Josh. Then add massive wild fires to the heat and it gets really fun. If someone ever tells you “Burn in Hell Vampire,” you can tell them “FUCK YOU ASSHOLE I live in California.”

After the cat adventure I dropped off a trunk load of supplies that will go up to a fire shelter near Redding (Carr fire.)

By the time I got home my son Garrett was peeling tape off of the walls. We’re painting the insides of our home. From neutral to color. It looks great. As we’re peeling long steps of blue tape from around the windows we talked about all kinds of stuff.

Garrett will be in his fourth year of college. He is twenty-one now. No longer a child. I have kids now but I also have adults – Vampire adults.

“I hate summer necks,” said Garrett.

“It isn’t that bad,” I said.

“Oh come on mom, they’re gross. All covered in sunscreen, sweat, foundation, hair products, and body spray. The body spray is the worst. It smells great, but oh my god, the taste… How did you do it before people took showers everyday?”

“I don’t know. I guess we were used to it. You know, like cigarette smoke and rancid bacon grease.”

“That’s disgusting. I’m sticking with wrists until October.”

“Sounds like a plan to me,” I told him. I didn’t mention that I go to nice adult people with indoor private offices. But I’m sticking with wrists more often than not as well.

College classes start soon for both of my kids. It already seems like fall. This morning was unusually cool and nice. On morning like that I pretend I’m living by the ocean or up in the mountains. For a myriad of reasons I’m still here, in the Sacramento Valley with the smoke and the ghosts of the 49ers and the first Vampires to settle in California.

Anyway, that is how my day went.

Hope yours went well.

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman