In the wee hours of the morning my brother Max came over and crashed at my place. We built a comfortable room for him in the attic where he can stay whenever he finishes a job in our neck of the woods and doesn’t want to drive all the way back to the city. Plus sometimes he just likes to hang out with us.
He staggered downstairs and joined me in the kitchen where I was making coffee.
“Put a shirt on,” I told him as he stood there in nothing but a pair of draw string pajama pants.
I know he’s my eldest brother but he still needs to put a shirt on. I have four older brothers. I insist they be on their best behavior around me. Usually they are.
“You have ghosts in the attic,” he tells me, as if I haven’t already discovered it on my own.
“I know. They’re all over the place. I can’t do anything about it.”
“I don’t remember this many ghosts when we were children.”
“We lived in a new city Gold Rush boy.” Max was born in 1849 in a ship somewhere in San Francisco Bay. Now he drives an SUV and still doesn’t like ghosts. Most Vampires don’t like ghosts. They don’t care for us much either. I pretty much don’t care either way anymore.
“Damn, every time I was just about to drift off they woke me up with their whispering and horrible music,” said Max
“I’ll see what I can do for the ghosts in the attic. We rarely go up there so, anyway, I’ll put something up there to repel them, or just yell at them. They hate it when I yell at them.”
Max pushed his sleeves up and poured a cup of coffee out of the French Press. I could see the ugly scars from Demon scratches and bites.
I worry about Max but he’s a survivor. He survived the Titanic. He survived more bat shit crazy girlfriends than I can count. He survived being shot twice by Vampire Hunters. He has survived demons, angels, fallen angels, ghosts, jealous boyfriends and husbands, and all kinds of weird stuff. He survived the drama of living in three different centuries. He survived having four younger siblings who aren’t exactly serious when it comes to being Vampires. OK maybe Aaron. Aaron is serious about everything but that is a different blog post.
I glanced out the window and could see about half a dozen ghosts sitting on my back fence with black umbrellas in the rain. They watched a lone coyote walk across the meadow underneath the oak canopy. Their sad eyes looked up at me in unison. I pulled the blinds closed.
Max sat down and started to talk about his girlfriend. They talked about where they’d live after they got married. They decided to keep both of their houses, at least for now. She lived in Monterey. He lived in San Francisco. Maybe they’d get married in July. Max had a lot of questions for me. He wanted my opinion.
I listened, but kept glancing over at a small transparent ghost of a child jumping on the couch in the next room. I mouthed the words, “go away.” It stuck out it’s tongue, turned it’s eyes black and vanished.
Max look at me funny. “What are you doing?”
“Nothing. Just thinking maybe you should have the wedding in one of the art museums. Are you getting married in San Francisco?”
“I was thinking Carmel, or Monterey,” said Max.
Out the kitchen window a ghostly bride with a slit throat and a bloody white dress floated past the window. I closed that blind and poured Max more coffee.
“Either one would be beautiful,” I said as a bloody hand came up out of the garbage disposal. I turned on the water and the garbage disposal switch. The hand vanished.
“I can’t believe I’m finally doing this. A hundred and sixty nine years old and I’m finally getting married.”
“I’m so happy for you Max,” I said as I heard the faint sound of an accordion coming from the formal dining room. “Excuse me Max. I’ll be right back.”
In my dining room I found a group of five musicians and a female singer in a dress with a huge bustle and low neckline. She carried her big blue eyes in a jar and held it up so she could see me.
“We’ll do his wedding for cheap,” she said with a gap toothed smile. The band started to play Ode to Joy.
“Go away,” I said. “All of you,” I yelled. “Go away. I swear to God you all know there are only two ghosts I allow in my house, and that is on a good day. ALL of you need to leave right now our I’m finding your graves and piling them with moth balls and dog poop.”
The ghosts looked at me with fading eyes then vanished, along with their music. A glance out the window showed no signs of ghosts. I didn’t feel their presence anywhere in the house.
“Moth balls and dog poop. That’s pretty harsh baby sister.” Max had come into the room.
“Sorry Max, sometimes when it rains they gather. There are a couple of cemeteries, actually three of them on the other side of the river. I think they just get water logged, or maybe come up from the clubs that used to be along the river banks. They know I can see them. It’s kind of like dogs. They want my attention even when they aren’t mine.”
“Weird.”
“I guess. If you say it’s weird it must be weird.”
Max excused himself and went back upstairs to sleep a bit. Apparently the accordion had kept interrupting his sleep.
Back in the kitchen another man, one with shaggy black hair and a smirk on his face waited for me. “You’re not going to throw dog poop and moth balls at me are you?”
“No Nigel,” I said. “I’m not going to throw anything at you.”
He got up and poured a cup of coffee and set it on the table then sat down to smell it. “You know I only come here for the coffee.”
“Sure, and the company.”
“I’m the only ghost you like. And Mary of course. Everyone loves Mary.”
“I don’t always like you Nigel,” I said. “But you’re my ghost.”
“And you’re my Vampire,” he said.
We didn’t talk about Max and his aversion to Ghosts.
I don’t live a double life. I’m a mom. I live a triple quadruple life. Husband, kids, siblings, elders, pets, ghosts, etc… I take care of everyone.
You know how it is. Don’t we all.
“At least your closets aren’t full of skeletons,” said Nigel.
“Not too many,” I said, and poured yet another cup of coffee.
My brother Val always says “love isn’t a physical thing. It is a meeting of souls. Be it friendship or romantic lovers, it is something we can write about and dream about, but we can never truly explain or define it.”
The Art of Writing Love Letters is Alive and Well (even for Zombies & Ghosts)
The most popular post on this blog is “How to respond to a love letter.” Really. Out of the zillion or so things I’ve written on just about every subject everything always circles around back to LOVE.
That is proof that the art of letter writing is not completely dead (YES – real scientific proof)AND romance is still alive and well.
Everyone writes love letters. And that means YOU. Below are some examples to inspire you and get you going.
For Modern Royalty
Let me undress you my love and rid you of your fashionable dress. Let me unroll your stockings one by one. Let me slip off your panties and bra so carefully. And when you’re all mine naked and beautiful, let me cover you with frumpy pastel colored grandma clothing and ugly hats forever.
For Werewolves
Let me run my hands along your bare skin and feel the fur grow under my fingers. Run in the woods with me my love and let me hear your howl in the moonlight. Be the father of my cubs and the alpha of my pack. Your large paws and dark eyes excite me. I sniff you and your scent intoxicates me. Both the man and beast in you make me love you even more.
For Zombies
Know that I love you for more than just your brains. When I first saw you staggering across the street, the wild look in your one remaining eye, the slight smile, the slow groan, the matted hair and I knew you were the girl for me.
I will be with you even when we fall apart and our body parts trail behind us…and there is nothing left except our love.
For Vampires
In the shadows you bring dark light and the slow beating of your heart. I live for your cool touch, your lips on my neck, fangs lightly teasing me. You’re my heart and soul. You are my shadow. You are my love. You are the one I will spend centuries with sharing wine and blood and passion.
For Regular Humans
You’re cute. I like being with you. I love you. xoxoxoxox. I can’t get enough of you. Light my fire or even my BBQ Grill – I’m easy. Love you sweetie pie!
For Ghosts
In life love was just a dream like mist or a phantom.
Now it is real even though nothing else is.
Through the centuries we drifted,
Only to meet at night, haunting the truth and reality of life,
To find love in death and tragedy,
And hope that will never make sense,
But it is ours and ours alone.
You haunt me to my very soul,
The spirit of our love lives anew.
So get out your pen, your pad, your smart phone, your crayon or pencil and write a letter to the one you love.
I never realized that the high rise downtown held the Federal Courthouse, art, poetry, and historic displays. There are also incredible views, even in the storm. Yes, I was there yesterday afternoon.
Even with the Federal Government shutdown there is still almost no parking to be found on the downtown streets. I finally found a spot near the old rail yards. The old rail yards is a yet to be developed area that used to be, well, rail yards. Old brick building still stand waiting to become trendy and useful again. Acres and acres of land waits for something, or maybe nothing. I’d like to see just a big park. Tracks still go out in all directions.
The active rail station is also near by taking commuters to the Bay Area and to far off places. I’d say exotic but only because it sounds more fun. Right now taking the train from Sacramento to Reno is the only way to go. I think the highways are closed this morning due to snow. If they aren’t closed it is painfully cold and slow. Over the past 24 hours the snow has come down not in inches but in feet. Dozens of feet.
Anyway, the only parking I could find was about five, maybe six blocks away, over an overpass that went across the old rail yard and tracks. On the wide sidewalks of the cheerfully designed urban bridge were homeless structures made of shopping carts, blankets, tarps, and bicycles. Across the way, and below, under more underpasses, and along walls were more homeless staked out in small groups of two or three, waiting out the storm. They’re just waiting out life. Just waiting.
I walked over the bridge, bundled up in my wool coat with my big blue umbrella. Within about a half minute I was soaked. My pants were soaked. My feet, through my boots, were soaked. Granted my boots are Doc Marten’s but they’re a heavy canvas. I should have worn my leather boots. My coat was soaked.
Ghosts stood on the bridge, on the side with the two homeless forts. They looked at me with blank eyes that stared out of gray holes in their heads. Two wore baggy suits and looks contempt. A woman in a long dirty blue dress with a bustle stood alone. Three Chinese ghosts huddled with quilted coats and long pigtails.
I walked on. I hate ghosts. A gust of cold wind hit my face along with about a gallon of water. A ghost stood in front of me. She wore a sort coat, open with a short orange dress underneath. Her feet were bare. Long dark bangs skimmed the top of her eyes.
“Are you here to feast on the almost dead below?” She pointed down to the homeless camps. “Will you take them?” She pointed to the blanket and tarp fort across the street by the bus stop.
I tried to walk on but she followed me making hissing noises. I stopped despite the storm.
“There are already Vampires down there but I am not like them. Let me be,” I said.
“They will be found dead and cold, and nobody will know,” said the Ghost.
“Not because of Vampires,” I said and walked past the Ghost.
I know the kind of Vampires who are down there. They too live on the streets, or roam the streets then after feeding go back to the cold dark places they call home. They take what they need – blood and nightmares.
I am not one of them.
This morning I’m watching my cat, his fur wet, drinking fresh water from a bowl. My dog is curled in her bed. There are no Ghosts in sight, not yet.
As I walked downstairs from my bedroom I wondered how many tons of cat vomit is flushed down toilets each year?
At 4:12 a.m. the dog had asked to go out. As I made it to the entryway I saw that the poor thing couldn’t wait. She had tummy troubles and made a huge mess. She is a large dog at 85 pounds, so believe me it was a huge mess. After taking a large bag full of the mess out to the garbage I sprayed the carpet and now I’m waiting to scrub it. Fortunately for me the carpet is being replaced with hardwood floors soon.
So what does this have to do with parenting, vampires, or having an empty nest?
My nest is not so empty. Since there are no children in the house the animals are all more aware of MOM. We are all adjusting. The cats are eating quicker and barfing because the dog is trying to eat their food. The dog is eating cat food and getting huge runny poops. I’m trying to give all of them extra attention.
In the meantime my adult children, young but still adults now, are keeping in touch this week though the magic of the smart phone.
I just received photos of costumes from Paramount Studios, and last night photos from Griffith Park Observatory (yes, the one in LA LA Land.)
Then photos came of Pike Place Market and a friend’s new beard. This is the first beard of the group. It is well groomed, blonde, and a new trendy hair cut. Looks good.
They’re on winter break from school and off with friends, one north, and one south.
When I was that age I also tumbled into adventures, and unfortunately more misadventures. If I had the resources, and the wherewithal kids had now… Yes, I think how different it might have been, but does that matter? I’ll let my alternate universe self deal with that. I’m just happy beyond words to see I’ve given my kids the tools they need. Yes, they have those phones, but there are so many more tools one must have.
They’re curious, and full of adventure. They smart. They’re cautious. They’re playful. They’re young and without fear of the unknown.
The other day Nigel the Ghost, who left his body, ok died, around the age of 26 or 27, told me to tell my kids to treasure their youth and make the most of it.
I was feeling snarky so I said, “we’re Vampires.”
Then he said, “then treasure it all the more.”
He is right. And so, no matter who we are, what we are, or how we live, we should treasure everyday, and every experience.
I thought about all of the adventures I’ve been on with my children. There will be many more to come, and I am glad they are having their own adventures as well now. They’re building their libraries of wonderful memories. Yes, I wish I was there, but like I said, we will have our adventures too.
A new lesson for our adult children should be to savor the moments. Plan fun. Continue to play. Take breaks. Watch for falling stars. And to continue to treasure those you love.
Tell them, as they grow older, they should keep an open mind as well. My mind is much more open now than it was when I was a clueless eighteen year old.
Just remember, and this is coming from an old Vampire, to savor all moments. Even if it is just petting a cat who leans against your leg, or the quiet of a cold winter night.
Happy New Year. I’m watching the 2019 Rose Parade, drinking coffee, and sitting with my cat. One of the cats at least. The other one went screaming upstairs and the dog followed him. The husband is still asleep. The children are elsewhere with friends.
The Ghost was out standing by my back fence this morning. He turned, giving me a neutral look then vanished. Not so much as a wave. He didn’t even flip me off.
I don’t have any resolutions this year, just thoughts and suggestions for everyone who reads this.
Write more.
Create art
Tell WordPress that the new “block” editor sucks. Programmers aren’t writers. Yes, I did hear all about it at the local WordCamp. I was even a speaker there but I had no idea they’d just add another level of hell to my blog. I can’t even easily choose categories anymore to lure unsuspecting readers to my blog.
I just looked it up. I have to designate this as a “list block” from yet another menu. I know, I’m a smart cookie and will get the hang of it. I should be more positive about change, but I’m an old Vampire.
My children (now 19 and 22) keep me young and current.
Stay current. Don’t be an old fart.
Stop listening to the news or talking about politics for at least five days each week. Nothing, aside from becoming a Vampire, will add more years to your life span.
Be positive and stop complaining about software upgrades the don’t make any sense (see above about politics.)
Watch birds. Watch them.
Cats
Dogs
Listen to your kids
Talk with your kids (not at them)
Plan to play.
I’m stopping here to talk about PLAY. We all need to play. Play helps children develop into decent human beings. It helps adults unwind. We need play. So do something this year. Go to a zoo. Play Cards Against Humanity and laugh yourself silly. Go to an art museum. Never say you don’t like museums. Put on some music and dance. Go for a walk. Write a blog. Fly a kite. Be silly. Stop being so serious all the time.
