ha!

Turns out I can blog from my phone. This is a whole new world.

October 31, 2009

October is coming to a close again. We have but hours left until the dreaded November arrives.

What is October to us?

October is...

falling leaves and changing colors

the change of the seasons

the end of the harvest

hunting season

football season and the local high school homecoming game

the World Series

an abundance of candy

orange plastic pumpkins and the enormous effort it takes to shove candy through the tiny hole in the top

little kids dressed up as ghosts

Mary Shelley and Frankenstein

Peter Boyle and Young Frankenstein

Ichabod Crane and the Legend of Sleepy Hollow

Charlie Brown and the Great Pumpkin

Apple pie

Apple sauce

Apple cider

the orange of pumpkins

the search for the perfect pumpkin

and the perfect pumpkin patch

Pixie Stix and Bit'o'Honeys

Concrete Blonde

Rocktober

Dracula, Bram Stoker and Anne Rice

Family and friends and time shared together

Warren Zevon and the Werewolves of London

Van Morrison's Moondance

George Romero and his zombies

The Mummy

Elvira

the unmistakeable voice of Vincent Price

wool socks

superstition and Superstition

black cats

spiders

plastic spider rings

the school carnival

trick-or-treating

my grandmother in a pirate costume and my mother as a witch

the Frankenstein coat rack

strangely enough, donuts

corn mazes

that East wind out of the Gorge

Sarah Winchester

Haunted houses - real, imagined or created

the spooky graveyard and the wandering spirits once housed there

Disney's Haunted Mansion

Chex Mix

Martha Stewart

Caramel apples

bats

witches and our misunderstanding of Wicca

Galena, Ill., and Ashland, Ore.

pumpkin-flavored anything

and so much more...

Happy Halloween, all.

And Happy October.

October 30, 2009

The race has begun.

Do you have your costume yet?

I got all ambitious after Halloween last year and I ordered one online. It's a super-cute costume and an incredibly good idea. However, it made me look like an ass so I sent it back.

So no, I don't have a costume.

I have a couple ideas, but it might be too late to assemble the pieces needed. Ahh, well. The best laid plans...

When I was little, my grandmother made costumes for me. They were wonderful costumes. I was a genie and a ballerina and a black cat and a white elephant. 

And then for a few years, I didn't dress up. But then I started working at my current job and ran headlong into a group of incredible costumers. 

I arrived one morning at 6 a.m. to find one of my coworkers dressed as a giant carrot. The year after that, the sales office dressed as the seven dwarves. We're still removing fake blood stains from when the restaurant servers were an ER crew. And the Elvises, oh, the Elvises. And really, can anyone ever forget the year that Rocky, who is lily-white, transformed himself into Mr. T?

It's estimated that we Americans will spend $4.75 billion on Halloween this year. I'm guessing the majority of that is on candy and costumes. 

As for me, I think I still have my devil horn barrettes from last year.

Cheers!

Oh, click here for the first ever recorded use of the word "hauntrepreneuers". Happy Rocktober.

October 29, 2009

I don't know if I've mentioned this, but I share a birthday with Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley.

That's right, Mary "Frankenstein" Shelley.

Mary's little story, written on holiday near Geneva, Switzerland, has become one of the greatest monster stories of all time. For nearly two centuries, Mary's "Modern Prometheus" has captured our imaginations both on the page and on the screen. 

Frank has never been as popular as, say, Dracula, but he's had his fair share of the spotlight. Boris Karloff's 1931 screen portrayal is credited as being the key to Frank's longevity and popularity. 

But I think it was Peter Boyle who pushed him over the top.

Please see:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pu1DMSqTLyk&feature=related

And, my personal favorite:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2lojDOBX8BY

I swear, I don't know how they ever made it through the filming of "Young Frankenstein", but I am so very glad they did.

How is this not the funniest stuff ever put on film?

October 28, 2009

What are the traditional symbols of Halloween? The pumpkin, the ghost, the full moon, the witch's hat, the black cat.

The black cat. What is it about the black cat that links it so inextricably to Halloween?

Here's a great article from the San Fran Chronicle about the phenomena of the black cat. Are black cats good luck or bad omens? Read and discuss. 

Edgar Allen Poe wrote about a black cat he befriended (or who befriended him, I'm not sure). You can find his story here. 

And, if you can't click the links, I hate this treat for you:

Janet Jackson's "Black Cat"

All the lonely nights I spend alone
Never around to love me
You're always gone
Cause you're hangin out
Breakin' the rules
Oh the man has come
Looking for you
You're a rebel now
Don't give a damn
Always carrying on
With the gang
I'm trying to tell you boy
It's a mistake
You won't realize
Til it's too late

Don't understand
Why you insist
On ways of living such a dangerous life
Time after time you stay away
And I just know that you're telling me lies

Black cat
Nine lives
Short days
Long nights
Livin on the edge
Not afraid to die
Heart beat
Real strong
But not
For long
Better watch your step
Or you're gonna die

You're so together boy
But just at a glance
You'll do anything
If given a chance
Scheming, plannin lies
To get what you need
So full of promises
That you never keep

Don't you tell yourself
That it's okay
Sick and tired of
All of your games
And you want me to stay
Better change
Makes no sense to me
Your crazy ways

Black cat
Nine lives
Short days
Long nights
Livin on the edge
Not afraid to die
Heart beat
Real strong
But not
For long
Better watch your step
Or you're gonna die 

October 27, 2009

Today's topic: It was a Dark and Storm Night. Discuss.

After work tonight, I had to go out to PCC Sylvania to take a math test. With the overcast sky and the half moon, it was incredibly dark out there. What a creepy campus. I'm glad I chose the web course instead of the two nights a week wandering around in the dark out there.

But it would be a near perfect location for an aspiring horror film producer to set up shop. Just a thought.

I've been in some creepy places over the years. I even worked in one for quite a while. But this time of year lends a sharpness to the creep factor. Our imaginations run a little wilder and a little darker. Perhaps, with the thinning of that veil between worlds, we regain a little of our instinctive fear of the dark and the things we cannot see. Deep down inside, we remember a time before cell phones and electric lights. We catch a glimpse of what lurked just outside the ring of firelight. 

And we walk a little faster through the parking lot and lock the doors as soon as we're in the car.

October 24/25, 2009

I went to get my hair adjusted last night. My friend Gary is truly a miracle worker.

At his station, he had easily six different kinds of candy. I took a little trick-or-treat pack of Starburst. But when I opened them, argh, two cherry ones. Under normal circumstances I do not eat cherry candy. It tastes like cough syrup. But I ate these. It's October, after all, when all candy is good candy.

I'm far, far, far past the age of trick-or-treating. I have a job. I make enough money to buy my own candy. I have a car. I can go to the store anytime I want and get gobs and gobs of whatever candy I think I might want.

But it's not the same.

I think the magic of trick-or-treating lies in the fact that it's completely a crap shoot. You don't know what you're going to get. You could get a whole bag of full-size Snickers (not likely) or you could get some crazy health-nut bag of granola bars and apples. Or you could get a handful of Sweetarts in the little 3-fer packages, a few Tootsie Rolls, some mini-versions of actual chocolate bars and some of those taffy's that you can't quite identify the flavor of but you know they're for Halloween because they're in orange and black waxed paper. 

When I was very little, trick-or-treating like you see in the movies was this mythical thing that just did not happen in my world. We would go to the elementary school Halloween night and go from classroom to classroom and that was it. Of course, this was in the middle of the desert. No sense in letting kids lose in the desert in the middle of the night where they might encounter truly horrific creatures.

So, I missed out on the real experience of trick-or-treating until we moved to Portland when I was 10. And at that point, I was on the verge of being too old. I went with my cousins a few times, with my youth group a couple times and then that was the end of it.

Until last year. Last year I went with Joe and Stacy and Angie and the kids to Stacy's parents' neighborhood. Stacy's dad and their neighbors compete to see who can make the best spiced wine for the parents of the neighborhood while they're accompanying the trick-or-treaters. How is this NOT THE BEST IDEA EVER? 

So, aside from it being a picture-perfect trick-or-treating neighborhood where every walkway is lined with carved pumpkins and dancing skeletons and any number of other decorations, there's spiced wine! Hot spiced wine!

Now, normally I would not suggest that you all run out and get yourselves mugs of hot spiced wine right before you stumble through the streets in the dark with teeming masses of small children asking strangers for candy, but I have to say, I think this is the way to go. After a little wine, you won't care what those stupid taffy's actually taste like.

October 23, 2009

October is when I turn into the West Coast version of Martha Stewart. I do things like try to make butternut squash soup or use spray glue to "glitter" things. 

I have grand plans for October, as I do each year. I'm going to the orchard to pick my own apples. Then I'm going to bring them home, cook them up and can some apple butter for Christmas gifts. 

I'm going to bake a huge chocolate-pumpkin cake and stencil a white sparkle-sugar spiderweb onto its top. 

I'm going to have the best Halloween costume ever. Martha showed me how to make it using twine and some coffee filters. And glitter, of course. 

I'm going to find more time to spend with my loved ones. I'm going to walk through the falling leaves wearing the hat I just knitted. And I'm going to finish the scarf to go with it. I'm going to live in an October picture book.

But what happens is that all my grand plans kind of turn to mush as I start to realize that there are, in fact, only 31 days in October. 

So, what does the plan become? 

Enjoy every last minute until midnight next Saturday. Then look forward to making plans for next October.

October 22, 2009

I'm tired and I miss Warren Zevon.

Werewolves of London

I saw a werewolf with a Chinese menu in his hand 
Walking thru the streets of Soho in the rain 
He was looking for the place called Lee Ho Fook's 
Gonna get himself a big dish of beef chow mein 
Hoowwwlll, the werewolves of London, Howwwll 

If you hear his howling around the kitchen door 
You better not let him in 
Little old lady got mutilated last night 
Werewolves of London again 
Hooowwwl, werewolves of London, hooowwwl

He's the hairy-handed gent who ran amuck in Kent 
Lately he's been overheard in Mayfair 
You better stay away from him, he'll rip your lungs out Jim 
But hey, I'd like to meet his tailor 
Hooowwwwl, werewolves of London, howwwll


Well, I saw Lon Cheney walking with the Queen 
Doing the werewolves of London 
I saw Lon Cheney Jr. walking with the Queen 
I saw a werewolf dringing a pina colada at Trader Vic's 
His hair was perfect 
Hooowwwwl, the werewolves of London, Hooowwwwl

October 21, 2009

I'm a little late posting this because the power went out last night. Nice. Very October.

I tried to watch Beowulf on my laptop, but I got to the part where the lights in the grand hall go out and the monster appears and decided that it probably wasn't a good idea.

But isn't that an inherent part of October? Scaring ourselves and our loved ones? I'm pretty sure it is. Perhaps I'll expand on this theme later, but right now I have to get ready to go to work. 

October 20, 2009

Today I take a cue from my dear friend Rebecca. Several years ago, she started doing her own October Thoughts. This was both reassuring and inspiring to me. She reassured me that I wasn't the only crazy out there and she inspired me to keep going at a time when I was just about done. Seriously, how long can one person drone on about the wonders of October before being involuntarily committed to some sort of October rehab facility?

Ha. Fifteen years and counting.

Anyway, Rebecca's Thought a couple days ago (or was it just yesterday?) was that when October rolls around, she is flooded by school memories.

Come to think of it, so am I.

So much of what I bring to the October table is from those formative elementary school years I spent in lovely Morongo Valley, California. It was there that I watched horror movies on Movie Macabre (hosted by Elvira herself) on Sunday afternoons. It was there that the Greatest Halloween Party Ever was held. It was there that Holly and Brenda and I watched "The Legend of Sleepy Hollow" while laying on the shag carpet in front of their tv. 

It was there, in a school built mostly of temporary classrooms situated around a sandy playground, that my mother first glued a plastic spider to her face and became the witch in the school carnival. 

I think a lot of us feel this way. So much of how we think of October and, more specifically, Halloween, is formed when we're little. When you look back over your childhood, how many Aprils or Septembers do you remember? When you look back over your October memories, how many fall between the ages of six and twelve? 

What's your favorite childhood October memory?

October 19, 2009

Let me preface this by saying I'm watching a very bad movie on the SciFi (or ScyFy as I think they're calling themselves now) channel. It has Jeremy London in it so I didn't have terribly high expectations.

I'm really only watching it because I've been fascinated by the resurgence the werewolf has made over the last year. This last year that has seemingly revolved around vampires with the fourth book in the Twilight series being released last August, the first Twilight movie last November, True Blood on HBO and The Vampire Diaries on the CW,  and the upcoming second Twilight movie and The Vampire's Assistant hitting theaters soon. 

But where vampires go, werewolves soon follow. Watch for it over the next year or two. I predict a dramatic shift from vampire to werewolf. 

Werewolves seem to be, like vampires, a worldwide phenomenon. They appear in the writings of Ovid, Virgil and in ancient Greek mythology. They appear across Europe, from Denmark to Serbia and back to Wales and Ireland. They're in Haitian folklore and Native American oral tradition. You'd be hard pressed to find a place on earth that does not have some legend or story that references a werewolf by some name or other. 

Have I ever seen one? Sure. I saw one just the other day. He was drinking a pina colada at Trader Vic's. His hair was perfect.

God bless Warren Zevon.

October 18, 2009

My mom made the trip to the pumpkin patch with my cousins today. I did not.

It poured rain. There was mud.

My memories of going to the pumpkin patch when we were all kids are memories filled with mud and crying and someone getting hurt and someone being blamed and me just wanting to go home. 

I was much happier getting my pumpkin from the grocery store. 

But, with a drivers license and a car came a new freedom for me. I could go to the pumpkin patch by myself. On a day of my choosing. When it wasn't raining. 

So that's what I did for years. There was even one fantastic fall when I worked in a building directly across the street from my pumpkin patch of choice. What fun that was.

But that little piece of October World is gone now, replaced by an office building that was completely unnecessary. Another half-empty office building surrounded by half-empty office buildings.

I've tried a couple other pumpkin patches. They tend to be crowded and crazy. I thought I might have finally reached the point where I was just too old to go.

Last year, I grew my own. I didn't do too bad. A couple decent sized pumpkins and about a dozen of the minis. Next year, I'm going to take a shot at the white ones and the Cinderella pumpkins. Watch out!

A couple weeks ago, Bridget and I made a trip out to Bauman Farms in Gervais. They have renewed my love of the pumpkin patch. I wish I could live there.

"What are you going to do with the money you make when you finally sell your first book?"

"Oh, I'm going to buy a farm and grow pumpkins."

And there you have it. The dream. The October Dream.

October 17, 2009

That very first year of October Thoughts, oh so long ago, was a much simpler time. The six of us would load into the van and hit the road and we would begin our discussion of what the October Thought for the Day would be.

Usually, it wasn't so much a discussion of what the Thought would be so much as a discussion about whatever we'd picked. 

It was something that brought us together. Well, except Tim. He just put his headphones on, curled up in a ball and went to sleep. but the rest of us bonded over a shared love of Chex Mix, popcorn balls, Frankenstein and the image of a witch flying across a full moon.

But, like I said, it was simpler then.

We would make simple pronouncements:

"The October Thought for the Day for today, October 17 is a little kid dressed up as a ghost, wearing a bedsheet."

And that would be it. What's more October than that?

But then the internet complicated it. There's just so much information. Though I'm not sure why you'd need this, EHow has even posted instructions for how to make a ghost costume from an old sheet. Seriously.

This one tells you how to get your ghost costume/sheet to stay on. Something about this little video struck me as terribly funny. I'm not sure why.

But this one is even sillier. 

October 16, 2009

I've been writing these for a long time, but I still hesitate to invite anyone new into our circle. There's always the possibility that someone new might think I'm completely insane.

Perhaps I am. On a yearly basis. For 31 days in the fall.

It's this time of year that one of two things happens: I either start to see things differently, or I start to see things. I'm not entirely sure which.

A tree branch twisting in the wind under the pale moonlight becomes the arm of some monstrous creature that must be avoided at all costs.

That dog barking down the block? That might be a werewolf.

I'm pretty sure I saw a witch on the skybridge when I was going from my awful lab class back to the parking garage earlier tonight.

The problem here is that I know that this is not entirely my fault. This is genetic.

In the backyard, there's a plastic bag that the winds brought in and got stuck in a tree. My mother is convinced it was put there by a creature she calls the King Rat for some nefarious purpose. Neither of us is sure what that purpose is, nor have we gone out to take the bag out of the tree. King Rat might be out there. Waiting.

It is during this time of year that I feel most sorry for people who have grown up. When you grown up, you slowly lose your imagination. Thankfully, part of me will always be seven years old and scared silly by a Frankenstein mask affixed to an coatrack wearing an old raincoat. 

October 15, 2009

Donde esta el House de Crap?

We're halfway through October, people. You'd best be on the look-out for one of the most Octoberiffic things of all: the Halloweeen House of Crap.

You know where they are. They spring up about this time every year. Cardboard tombstones suddenly appear in your neighbors' yard (as they did here fully two weeks ago), plastic witches and ghosts are hung in the trees, entire arbor vitae are draped in fake cobwebs. 

As we've discussed in years past, there are certain qualifications one must fulfill to truly consider themselves eligible for the House of Crap title.

1. You must have some sort of illuminated plastic figure.

2. You must have something made out of plywood and painted by hand.

3. For the Halloween House of Crap title, you must have a ghost, a witch and something that resembles either a werewolf or a vampire ie., something with fangs.

4. Extra points are awarded for the sheer volume of your display: when I drive by and roll down my window, can I hear either a soundtrack of wind blowing or other creepy sound effects, or can I hear the buzz of electricity from the extension cords used to run all those illuminated plastic figures?

5. Something must be hung from a tree or a lamp post. 

6. Extra points if you have something mounted on the roof (that is not a permanent installation). 

If you're in the Portland Metro area, the one you really don't want to miss is the Davis Graveyard. These people seem to have devoted most of their spare time to the pursuit of the above title. It is not to be missed. If you're still unclear as to what, exactly, a House of Crap is, check out their website.

My personal favorite will always be the house at the corner of 51st & Alameda in NE Portland. These people go all out and they do it for every holiday. A friend of mine actually believes they make up their own holidays to celebrate just so they can plug in the twinkly lights. I'm not so sure he's wrong. Unfortunately, they do not have a website. I used to have a link to a story The Oregonian did about it a few years back but I seem to have misplaced it. Oops. 

So get out there and find your local Houses of Crap (or create your own) and send me the pics. Everyone loves a good House of Crap.

October 14, 2009

The wind came back today.

Living where I do, in lovely Portland, Oregon, at the mouth of the Columbia River Gorge, I've come to expect these winds. They are October winds.

They come in from the East. Some years, they are the warm winds that remind you that summer was here not long ago. Others, like this year, the winds bring the first chilled notes of winter. The local news just had pictures of snowfall just a half hour east of here. They're saying that in some areas, this it the earliest snowfall in recorded history.

We're in for a long winter, I believe. 

Where did we put that hot cider?

The wind signals change: the change of seasons, the change of wardrobe. For me, the wind brings a little introspection. I look back over my year and wonder where the time went. I started January with that stupid back injury, spent the spring in the John Wilson Room at the Multnomah County Library (a truly magical place) and learned to knit over the summer. As summer turned to fall, I learned to love Alaska while drinking champagne and eating my weight in chocolate ice cream.

And now the winds are here. And I'm trying not to look ahead to Christmas.

October 13, 2009

The number 13 got to me today. In the occult world, this number is not considered unlucky as it is in polite society. The number 13 represents a new beginning.

In many of the old Earth-based religions, the lunar calendar is still observed. Following the cycles of the moon, there are 13 "months" or mooncycles that occur in the year. 

I have a ring that I wear sometimes that has 13 tiny leaves on it. I didn't notice it until months after I'd had it. I think of it now as my Sarah Winchester ring.

Oh, Sarah. Our dear, departed Sarah.

Sarah Winchester married the heir to the Winchester Rifle fortune and, upon his death inherited nearly $20 million. Haunted by the deaths of her daughter (only a few weeks after birth) and her husband, she consulted with psychics and mediums. One of these told her to go West and build a house for the spirits who haunted her - the spirits of those killed by the Winchester Rifle.

And build she did. For nearly 38 years, Sarah employed a team of carpenters to build, and sometimes rebuild, her grand mansion in San Jose, California, 24 hours a day, 365 days a year.

The house still stands and they're more than willing to offer you a tour for the right price. They offer special flashlight tours every Saturday in October and every Friday the 13th for those of you who are especially brave. 

How do I like the number 13 to poor, haunted Sarah? She did it herself by adding windows with 13 panes, chandeliers with 13 arms, and 13 bathrooms. Before she died, Sarah wrote her will in 13 sections and signed it 13 times.

So, there you have it. The number 13 comforted Sarah. She found solace in its meaning. 

For more info on the house, check this out. 

October 12, 2009

I just read a story on Reuters about Edgar Allen Poe's funeral. Seriously. It was today. I missed it.

Seems at the time of his death, his surviving brother made no announcement and, as a result, fewer than a dozen people attended the service. Incredibly sad when you consider he's become a part of the American lexicon and has captured our imaginations for generations. 

In honor of the recreation of his funeral, I give you one of Poe's most recognizable works,  "The Raven":

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
`'Tis some visitor,' I muttered, `tapping at my chamber door -
Only this, and nothing more.'

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; - vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow - sorrow for the lost Lenore -
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels named Lenore -
Nameless here for evermore.

And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me - filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
`'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door -
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door; -
This it is, and nothing more,'

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
`Sir,' said I, `or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you' - here I opened wide the door; -
Darkness there, and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before
But the silence was unbroken, and the darkness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, `Lenore!'
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, `Lenore!'
Merely this and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
`Surely,' said I, `surely that is something at my window lattice;
Let me see then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore -
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore; -
'Tis the wind and nothing more!'

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore.
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door -
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door -
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
`Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,' I said, `art sure no craven.
Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the nightly shore -
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning - little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door -
Bird or beast above the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as `Nevermore.'

But the raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only,
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered - not a feather then he fluttered -
Till I scarcely more than muttered `Other friends have flown before -
On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before.'
Then the bird said, `Nevermore.'

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
`Doubtless,' said I, `what it utters is its only stock and store,
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore -
Till the dirges of his hope that melancholy burden bore
Of "Never-nevermore."'

But the raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird and bust and door;
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore -
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking `Nevermore.'

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o'er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o'er,
She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.
`Wretch,' I cried, `thy God hath lent thee - by these angels he has sent thee
Respite - respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore!
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

`Prophet!' said I, `thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil! -
Whether tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted -
On this home by horror haunted - tell me truly, I implore -
Is there - is there balm in Gilead? - tell me - tell me, I implore!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

`Prophet!' said I, `thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us - by that God we both adore -
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels named Lenore -
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden, whom the angels named Lenore?'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

`Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!' I shrieked upstarting -
`Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken! - quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted - nevermore!

October 11, 2009

I made an attempt at butternut squash soup today. It is the right color, but that's about the best thing I can say for it. I should have stuck to the apple sauce I was going to make.

Apple sauce is easy, friends. Get yourself a microwave-safe bowl. Peel some apples (doesn't much matter what kind you use - I prefer apples that are a little more tart). Chop them up. Maybe add a little cinnamon, maybe not. Go with your heart.

Dump the apples into the bowl. Nuke them for a minute. Stir. Repeat until they start to fall apart and get all smooshy.

We learned last year that if you throw a little granola and a scoop of vanilla ice cream on top of the mess you just made, it's like ghetto apple crisp. Or skip the granola and add a little caramel sauce. Either way, it's a big bowl of October in about 15 minutes.

October 10, 2009

October 10th is the day I celebrate my writing anniversary. This is the day I started what Angie and I used to call the "Yellow Story" (written on a yellow legal pad, later enclosed in a yellow peechee folder), my attempt at young adult romance - written long before I was a young adult. It was awful, but it kept us entertained for a year or more.

And, while I'm distracted by the heat and humidity of summer and rarely find inspiration in the winter or spring, I find in October a wealth of ideas, words, phrases, storylines. The characters fight to get to the page, trying desperately to get my attention before winter sets in. 

There's plenty of Octoberiffic reading material out there. Bram Stoker's Dracula, Mary Shelley's Frankenstein, the Vampire Chronicles. A lot of you are reading the Twilight books. These are not October books. They're August books - books you read quickly at the end of summer before you have to go back to school. 

October books are a little weightier, a little denser, a little more difficult. They require you to pay attention. They require you to carry them with you to work, on the bus, to the corner diner. October books are really rather demanding. 

October books, like October herself, expect that we will think deeply about them, that we will discuss them at length, that we will study them with a fervor we reserve just for them. 

What are your October books?

October 9, 2009

Today, I give you Van Morrison:

Well, its a marvelous night for a moondance
With the stars up above in your eyes
A fantabulous night to make romance
neath the cover of october skies
And all the leaves on the trees are falling
To the sound of the breezes that blow
And Im trying to please to the calling
Of your heart-strings that play soft and low
And all the nights magic seems to whisper and hush
And all the soft moonlight seems to shine in your blush

Chorus:
Can I just have one a more moondance with you, my love
Can I just make some more romance with a-you, my love

Well, I wanna make love to you tonight
I cant wait til the morning has come
And I know that the time is just right
And straight into my arms you will run
And when you come my heart will be waiting
To make sure that youre never alone
There and then all my dreams will come true, dear
There and then I will make you my own
And every time I touch you, you just tremble inside
And I know how much you want me that you cant hide

Chorus

Repeat 1st verse

One more moondance with you in the moonlight
On a magic night
La, la, la, la in the moonlight
On a magic night
Cant I just have one more dance with you my love

October 8, 2009

Yesterday was rough. It started out okay. I managed to find two socks that matched. In my house, this is a major victory.

But they were unruly socks. They were socks that did not want to be worn. And they made me very cranky.

So, at lunch, I went to the store and bought new socks. Those of you who know me well know that I DO NOT NEED any more socks. I used to work in a sock store, for crying out loud. 

Which is probably part of the reason those unruly socks made me so mad. They were top of the line. You know, the fancy ones with the bright yellow toes. But they wanted to twist around and slide down in my shoes and misbehave.

But I got new socks and changed them out in the parking lot and it was like I could start my day all over again. Is there really, truly anything better than a new pair of socks?

October is usually about the time I start looking for new wool socks. I haven't quite made it that far yet, but I will soon. There's a new sock store in town that I need to get to as soon as I can. 

I'm also trying to knit socks but so far, they're just a hideous mess. But the yarn is really gorgeous. It came from here. And yes, I know I can get socks at Wally World for $2, but what's the fun in that?

Put yer silly sandals away. It's October. Go put your socks on.

October 7, 2009 - a slight departure...

The call came in the middle of the night. It didn't come as a shock as I'd been expecting it for some time. He was newly out of the Academie, into his first posting. And with his pedigree, I knew his number would get pulled quickly.

"Sis, I need you."

I swung out of bed, narrowly missing the dog. "I'm on my way. Three days, maybe four with the trains. Can you hang on that long?"

I could hear a quake in his voice. "Yeah. Yeah, I can make it."

"You know where to go to ask for refuge. Don't be a hero. Just go. First light, you go." I was looking for my heavy boots. I'd probably need them. These things usually required a sturdy pair of boots.

"But what if-"

"You go and you ask the first person you see in vestments to take you to the Abbas Praesul. Keep asking until they get it. The younger ones won't. It's not taught anymore. Just keep asking. Don't do anything stupid."

"Okay. Alright. Four days?"

"As soon as I can. I'll be at the Basilica at dawn. They'll need to know I'm leaving and they'll want to offer a blessing. " The dog was fully awake now and didn't appear pleased. "Take your dog with you," I told my brother. "You're always safer with the dog." 

My dog yawned, stretched and repositioned himself next to the door. At least he was ready.

"Jess, how are they manifesting?"

There was a crackle in the line as he answered. "Hallucinations, mostly. Stuff moving around. It wasn't much at first, but they're getting bolder. They changed the color of my car." The line crackled again.

"Jess, you need to get off the phone. Stay off the phone, stay off the 'net. Four days."

The line went dead before I was finished talking. 

October 6, 2009

First, let me start by saying I missed mentioning one of the United States' most quintessential October events: the opening of the Supreme Court is always the first Monday in October. For those of you who are especially dorky, I found this rather interesting. Yes, someone is blogging the Supreme Court (and it's a pretty decent read).

This just goes to show that October is many things to many people. In March, ask 50 random people what October means to them and you'll get mostly answers like "Halloween" or "pumpkins" or "autumn" and maybe one person of the 50 might say,"Oh, the opening of the Supreme Court!" And that one person will most likely be a lawyer. Or me.

Over the years, the majority of the answers I've gotten to the above question have been related to two subjects: food or the occult. Happy October.

We like apple cakes, candy corn, hot cider, soup, casseroles and comfort food or anything that tastes like pumpkin. In equal measure, we like vampires, witches, ghosts, werewolves and any number of other unexplained or folkloric creations. What does that say about us as October People?

We are both well-fed and well-read. That's my guess, anyway.

What does October mean to you?

Cheers!

October 5, 2009

Lots of apples this weekend. Bridget and I went to Bauman Farms Saturday for the giant pumpkin drop (the video is posted on my Facebook page if you want to see it) and, while I'm all about the pumpkins this week, they seemed to be more about apples.

There was apple cider. There were apple cider donuts and apple bread. There were a dozen or more different types of apples.

I love apples. This is the time when they're at their best. We've gotten used to a world where produce is no longer seasonal. Watermelon in January is not uncommon. Does anyone remember getting oranges in their Christmas stocking and thinking it was a great treat? And yes, we can have apples year 'round.

But they're best now. The leaves are starting to turn, we're not quite to the first frost, and they're perfect.

I've been looking for my mom's German Apple Cake recipe but I can't seem to find it. I think I might also try my hand at canning apple butter, but I'll need a few more apples than I currently have. Anyone fancy a field trip to Hood River next weekend?

Cheers!

October 4, 2009

I'm watching Harry Potter. I know this comes as a shock to some of you. 

I just finished the first one and am about 45 minutes into the second one. This is about when the spiders appear.

I bought a spider ring for my mom at Walgreens today. It's not the traditional black plastic spider ring that we've been cutting apart and gluing to our faces with eyelash glue yearly since the late '70s (take THAT, Martha) but instead is a lovely creature made of tiny spring legs that wibble-wobble when you move your hand. It's even got glitter. 

Spiders are October creatures. As the leaves begin to fall, they seem to multiply. I doubt there are more spiders now than there were weeks ago, it's just that we can see them more clearly. Even their webs are more visible in the morning dew, crystallized in elaborate, elegant exquisite patterns. 

Spiders are also the world's greatest spinners and weavers. I've tried a bit of spinning myself and really have only come up with a bit of a mess, a collection of spindles and a bit of brightly colored wool. Weaving will have to wait until after I'm done with school.

Until then, I'm content to let the spiders weave and admire their craft.

Cheers!

October 3, 2009

As was pointed out to me by some wacko I talked to on the phone today, the full moon is coming up Sunday. She would know. 

This full moon is unusual as it is designated the "Full Harvest Moon". The FHM is the full moon that occurs closest to the autumnal equinox and usually falls in late September. This October Full Harvest Moon will not happen again until 2017. The full moon that usually falls in October is the Hunter's Moon (which will be in November this year). Happy hunting. Or harvesting. Or whatever. 

The full moon brings something out in all of us. There's something wild, something primal that is triggered by her light. It is the light of the full moon that trigger's the wolf's howl and the change of man to werewolf. 

And the moon has long been tied to the earth-based religions. Witchcraft.org says,"This is a time when the Moon is at its most powerful, and the magic most potent. Performing any positive spell at this time will achieve good results. This is the ideal time for healing, guidance and completion spells." As a general rule, I don't cast spells. I know people who do, or who have, but I wouldn't trouble them for whatever trivial matters I might have. Happily, I can report that there's a service on the web who will cast your full moon spells for you for a fee:

http://www.calastrology.com/full-moon-spells.html

We attribute evil and darkness to the full moon, especially at this time of year. I think it's simply because it casts more light and makes it easier for us to go out and cause trouble. And because there's more light, we're more apt to get caught. Funny that.

Cheers...

October 2, 2009

Sometimes, it takes me a few days, maybe as long as a week, to really launch fully into October. Not this year.

The pumpkin spice lattes have been calling to me for weeks. The Concrete Blonde cd went into the player this afternoon. Chrissy gave me a fantastic pumpkin candle yesterday that I'm enjoying right now. Chef offered to make pumpkin soup for me if I peel the pumpkin. I say that's a pretty fair deal.

One of my ten bosses has a jar of candy corn on her desk. Rather, it's on a bookcase across the room from her desk, out of convenient reach. But I can see it from my desk. This presents a problem.

I heart candy corn. And it's so early in the month. But I'm not the only one. My buddy Brad, currently halfway around the world, had his first bit of candy corn for the year yesterday (or is it today? maybe it was two days ago?) I get that time change all sorts of mixed up.

No matter the time, the candy corn is out there waiting for us. Wikipedia tells me that Candy Corn Day is October 30 so we're a tad early in our Ode to the Corn.

And, so you know, Eileen told me years ago that candy corn in Hindi is "Mit-ay Muck-ay." The spelling is most likely totally screwy, so forgive me if you're fluent, but this is the literal translation. I'm not sure how many parts of the Hindi world celebrate the changing of the seasons with candy corn, but there you go.

Candy corn is the sweetness of Halloween candy and the colors of the season: the orange of the glowing jack'o'lantern, the yellow of the autumn leaves, the white of the first frost as we head toward winter. It might be the perfect October candy.

Cheers!

October 1, 2009

October 1, 2009

 

Some people write Christmas letters. I kind of envy them. They sit down, pour out a couple hundred words and send them off to everyone they’ve ever met and are done with it.

That’s right. They send one letter. In December, of all things.

I, on the other hand, have chosen a slightly more difficult path. Welcome to October.

It’s been a year since we all last met. What a year it has been, but I’m going to ask you all to focus on the topic at hand: October.

It was the fall of 1994 when this all began, in a blue Ford van circling Lake Michigan. It was 1998 when I finally caught up with the technology that has brought these Thoughts to you all. This year, we’re changing it up again. Instead of the daily email, I’m going to post to my blog at http://octoberthoughtspdx.blogspot.com.

I know this is a huge change for some of you, so if you freak out and want to still get a daily email, just pop me a message and I’ll add you to that list.  Simple enough.

October is so many things. For me, for these last fifteen years, it has been a time to share with friends, contemplate all things Martha, to eat things I shouldn’t eat and, most importantly, create this magic October community.

We all have our own vision of what October is. For those of us still living our lives by the academic calendars of our respective schools, it’s probably just about the time when things settle into a predictable routine. For the sports fans, it’s the switch from baseball to football. For the crafters, it’s time to glue autumn leaves to any and every flat surface.

Wherever you fall in this October Spectrum, it’s time to savor every minute because, if there’s one thing we’ve learned over the years, it’s that 31 days rally isn’t enough time to contain all that is October.

Ready, set, go!

Alaska

I think I could be very happy in Alaska. There's a simplicity there that's tempered by the harshness of the climate and the land. A harsh beauty, if you will.

I caught the White Pass and Yukon Railroad at the end of the line in a place seen by few people I know. Tormented Valley, they call it. Depending upon the season, the winds there reach 100 mph and the temperature drops to -65. But it is stunning in its beauty. 

I have a friend, a sometimes very strange friend, who has a piece of property in Alaska and lives there part-time. He's got that same harsh beauty. There's a savage grace to him at times, and at times a quiet sadness, probably due in part to things he's experienced and things he's been a part of that he probably wishes he hadn't.

I could be very happy in Alaska....

Family

The last week has been a very strange one.

I reconnected with an older brother and a younger sister I barely know. We didn't grow up together and live hundreds and hundreds of miles apart, but it seems like we know each other in spite of it.

Eric is eight years older than I, Kasy is sixteen years younger. The only thing we really have in common is our father, who I barely, vaguely knew. 

Strange that I should feel so close to them. We share something that is inexplicable. 

I envied my friends who had brothers and sisters, even as they tried to beat the crap out of each other growing up. 

I'm seriously considering a kind of pilgrimage to the homeland sometime in the spring. Perhaps it's ill-advised, delusional, that I should expect that we will magically have this pre-fab relationship. It's hard to be both cautious and open at the same time.

But when I was little, I sometimes thought that someday my real family would come get me. Weird, because my mom was always my real family and she has always been with me. I never fit in with all the aunts and uncles and cousins on her side of the family. They knew it and I knew it. 

And now, closing in on the age of 36, my real family has reappeared. I'm hopeful.

Touch

There's this guy who's been in my head for years now. Not in my head like a crazy voice, but a guy I know who I can't stop thinking about.

It's torturous sometimes, this not being able to Not Think About Him. 

I try to ignore him, to erase any thought I have regarding him. I try to move on.

But here I am again. 

I had a dream last night. We were both standing at the bar, waiting to order from the bartender. It was a bar I didn't recognize, but it seemed we were both comfortable there.

We weren't there together. We just happened to be in the same place at the same time.

We stood at the bar, maybe a couple feet apart. Waiting. Waiting.

And then he reached over and took my hand. And I felt myself smile. I didn't look at him for fear that the moment would be broken. Try not to draw attention to it, my mind raced. Maybe no one will notice and you'll be able to hold his hand for a long time. Maybe all those people who interfered before will leave us alone as long as we stay quiet.

Maybe they'll leave us alone if we stay quiet.

This is what I woke up thinking.

Life story

"I remember when my mom got into a car accident when I was two," he tells me from across the table. I can barely hear him over the awful karaoke happening only feet away from us.

"You remember things from when you were two years old?"

He nods. And then he proceeds to offer me his life story as my next writing project. 

I know he's trying to help me. I'm a writer who does not write. I explain to him my theory about writers and crazy people. Crazy people listen to the voices in their heads and do what the voices tell them. Writers just write down what the voices say.

He laughs, but I'm not sure it's because of my wit or because of the karaoke.

I try to avoid writing about people I know. It's been a jynx in the past, and is one of those things that has great possibility for pissing people off. I've done it in the past to mixed reviews.

In fact, I wrote about him briefly years ago. It didn't turn out terribly, but it was half fiction when it was finally printed.

But to sit down with someone and have them lay out the pieces of their life to that you can try to make enough sense of them so as to commit them to the page? That's a huge responsibility. And I am honored that he would trust me enough to offer.

In the end, I'm a lazy writer and his story may never be published. But it offers us both an opportunity: for me to write, and for him to come to terms with his past.

An evening with Che Guevara and Steven Soderbergh

Silly me, I didn't have dinner first. 

I had a conversation with a friend a few days ago about how Portland is not the center of the universe. That's fine, I guess. He tends to be a bit of a wanderer. He's got a bunch of stamps in his passport, but he always ends up back here. 

I like the idea of travel. But my sort of travel is born of working in hotels for a decade. I like clean sheets and upgraded rental cars. I like a morning paper to be delivered to me each day. I like working elevators and toilet paper that doesn't give you splinters.

Most of the time, I'd just rather be here. I like Portland, center of the universe or not.

Where else can you see Soderbergh's epic Che in its entirety with the director there to take questions afterward?

The answer? Probably not anywhere else in North America. At least not anytime soon.

The "Roadshow Version" of Che runs just short of four and a half hours. With the intermission built in and the director's Q&A following, it was about a six hour commitment. 

Honestly, I am incredibly glad I went. I know virtually nothing about Cuban history other than the relations between Cuba and the US make it illegal for me to travel there. I know Che as the guy on the artsy kids' t-shirts. I know Fidel Castro as a tyrant and a Communist.

Admittedly, only parts of Che's story are told in the movie. "We could have taken it to HBO, presented it as a 10-hour miniseries and made a lot more money," Soderbergh told his audience afterward.  

It's been released in Japan as two separate films and has done "really well" according to Soderbergh. Part  one follows Che's travel from Mexico City into the jungles of Cuba, leading rebel fighters over mountains and through rivers. It ends earlier than I expected, not with their arrival in Habana but two hundred miles from there when they hear of the flight of Batiste. Part two follows Che in his failed campaign in Bolivia nine years later. 

But what was the most important thing I cam away with?

Benicio del Toro, who plays the title character, is a producer on the film. In pre-production for nearly a decade, neither he nor Soderbergh were sure it would ever get done. "The only thing worse than doing it and fucking it up", Soderbergh told him,"would be to not do it at all."

A lesson to us all.

A beginning...

I used to live in coffee shops. I wrote, I drank coffee, I existed as part of what I thought was a uniquely Portland subculture.

Then I stopped. I'm not sure why. I just wasn't there anymore. 

My favorite coffee shop haunt has changed hands now and not what it once was. All my overly-caffeinated brothers and sisters have gone their separate ways. 

It's been over a decade since I regularly spent time sipping lattes and writing anything at all. 

But here I am. I'm back. 

And this time, there's pie.