Elise Allen's Blog, page 24

My Very Jewish Dog

As you can see from his oh-so-charming Star of David Party Collar, my dog Riley LOVES Hanukkah.  Not only is there usually a brisket involved at some point during the holiday (and my husband makes a KILLER brisket), but he knows he gets presents.

Eight of them.

Riley knows it's coming.  Every night, as we light the candles and sing the prayers, Riley joins in, whining in sing-song harmony.  I can't quite make out his gutteral moans, but I'm fairly certain it's a brucha.

The minute the singing ends, he rears back on his hind legs and starts begging with his front paws.  He doesn't have to wait long — he always gets his present first.  We hand him a fully giftwrapped parcel and he tears into it, finds the treasure inside, and trots away with it in his mouth.

It's seriously adorable.

This year he got several exotic dog treats, plus two new stuffed squeakies.  It was a good haul for him.  Of course, being a dog, he doesn't quite grasp the passage-of-time thing, and he's going to be quite taken aback when there's suddenly no more Hanukkah tonight.  He'll have to contain his lust for wrapped presents until March 26th — his birthday, and the annual dog party in the park, complete with party hats for Riley and all his canine friends.

So tell me — do you include your pets in your holiday celebrations?  One friend of mine told me she puts together stockings for all six of her pets.  Do your animals have stockings?  Presents under the tree?  Do they wear special holiday outfits?  How do you include them in the winter festivities?

Creative Challenge Last Friday

Oops.  See, I posted Thursday's Creative Challenge last Friday, then I took off the weekend, Monday was the Deb Ball, yesterday I posted about the ARCs, and I've already determined I'm incapable of doing more than one blog entry per day…

So now I'm finishing up Creative Challenge week, with the update of what Miss M and I did last Friday.

We made a gingerbread house.  This isn't the same as the baking challenge, because it came in a kit, so it wasn't about baking, it was about decorating.  It was art.  At least, of a sort:

It's hard to tell, but the best part is it involves a candy-boy giving a candy-treat to a candy-dog.

So over the course of the week, Miss M and I tackled music, dance, art, baking, and costuming.  A breadth of creative endeavors, and a fun break from sitting at the computer.

Of course that said, there's a family of dinosaurs at Pteranodon Terrace clamoring for me to finish their script.

How about you?  What's your favorite break from writing that uses a different part of your creative brain?

Happy last night of Hanukkah, everyone!  More soon…

ARC the Herald Angels Sing!

OMG I HAVE THE ARCS!!!!

At some point I'll do this with a pale foundation and makeup and it'll look REALLY cool...

YES!  That is me, holding the ARC of POPULAZZI!!!!

I got the ARCs last week, and only didn't post about it because I was on the Creative Challenge kick, and blogging about two things at once is apparently way too much for me to handle at this point.

I am elated, fired up… and nauseous.  Elated because the books look INCREDIBLE, and they now feel very real.  I'm having a great time with Amazing Editor Sam McFerrin poring over it and making little tweaks, but for the most part everything is in place.

The fired-up part is all about the things I can control.  The book doesn't come out until August, so I feel like it's my job between now and then to do everything I can to help get all the publicity stuff in place.  There are incredible people working on this — the PR people at Harcourt are terrific, and I love my PR guru Crystal — but from everyone I talk to and everything I've read, the PR peeps can be most effective when the author is actively involved.  I'm used to that — it's like working in TV.  I have a phenomenal agent, and she's even more phenomenal when I'm out there doing my part.

So what can I do?  I'm still learning, but I figure I can help make sure all the book bloggers who want a review copy get one (so if you want one, let me know and I'll do my best to hook you up).  I also want to hit up everyone I know who might know anyone who might know anyone at major newspapers and long-lead magazines who might want to review the book.  I'm reaching out to authors whose work I admire, and asking them to read and comment on Populazzi.  I'm sure there are a million other things I should be doing that aren't even on my radar yet, so if you've been through this and have ideas, by all means bring 'em on!

Now comes the nausea part.  The ARCs are out there.  They're flying around, completely out of my control, riding in cars without their seat belts, using fake I.D.s, staying out all night and partying… who knows what they're up to?!?!

I'm really proud of the book, and I hope early readers like it too, but that's out of my hands.  It's thrilling… and it makes me run for the Pepto every few hours.

The fascinating thing about this stage is the weird double-reality.  The book is out there… but it's not really out there.  There's still eight months before it's actually released.  That's a crazy amount of time.  By then my daughter will be finished first grade.  I'll have had a big-deal milestone birthday.  There will be two new babies born in my family (extended family — I'm good with one, thanks).  I'll have finally qualified for the Boston Marathon thanks in part to my new rock hard, drool-worthy abs!

Okay, maybe that last one is wishful thinking.

Point is, there's still a long way to go on the Countdown to Release.  And if I don't want to get an ulcer, I need to step back on the Pepto moments.  I'm working on it.

In the meantime, I am all about advice.  If you're a writer and you've gone through this before, I'd love to hear your thoughts about the best things I can do at this point in the process.  If you're a book blogger or other reviewer and you'd like to get your hands on one of these bound beauties (yikes — that sounds like something else entirely), let me know and I'll do everything I can to make it happen.

THANKS!!!

Creative Challenge Thursday

Three words:

Glee. Dance. Party!!!!

I adore the show Glee.  Yeah, I know it has some problems.  The writing can be spotty (I'm looking at you, Britney Spears episode!), the stories are sometimes contrived (Bad Reputation episode so didn't work for me), and every now and then the dialogue makes no sense at all (Kurt inferring that a kiss from a homophobic bully "mattered" was a head-spinner).

But really, that's nitpicky.  The show is fantastic, with well-rounded, vibrant characters, and brilliant comedy mixed with real truth and poignancy.  When it's on, it's genius.  The Grilled Cheezus episode is one of the best hours of television I've seen.

And then there's the music.

My daughter is even more Glee-obsessed than I am, and for her it's all about the music, because she's 6 and we don't let her watch the whole show.  Oh, I tell her all the stories so she knows what's going on: she knows about Kurt and Blaine; Finn's past with Quinn and his current troubles with Rachel; Rachel's saga of finding and losing her mother… she's deeply involved in it all because the stories enhance the drama of the songs.  We speed through everything until we get to the music, and she memorizes every number.

Often we play Glee, and she's always Rachel.  She has me play Finn, but this might change now that {spoiler alert} they've broken up.  For awhile she wanted to be Rachel for Halloween, with me as Tina and my husband as Finn, but that gave way to her go-to ensemble for us: Miss M as Elphaba, me as Nessa (but able to walk), and my husband as Fiero.

Last summer we even went to see Glee Live at Universal Amphitheater, and she was screaming and dancing like her mommy at a George Michael concert.

Miss M has every single Glee song downloaded onto her iPod, and plays Glee karaoke on my iPad.  She's partial to "Poker Face."  Nothing like a 6-year-old belting out how she's bluffin' with her muffin.

Point is, we love Glee, so when she got the Glee 4 CD for Hanukkah, the party began.  And what could be more creative than a wild dance party?

Creative Challenge for Thursday?  Solved!

I wish I could say I channeled my inner Heather Morris and Harry Shum Jr... but it was more like my inner Elaine Benes.  Still, it was fantastic. For sure we'll have another dance party today, but this time it won't count for the Creative Challenge week.  Wondering what to do instead.  I did manage to buy a banana.  Perhaps the Tawna Fenske dare is still not out of the question.

In the meantime, tell me — are you a Gleek?  Have you heard the new CD?  Are you as bummed as I am that Finn and Rachel doing "Don't Go Breakin' My Heart" isn't on there?  Are you also loving Gwyneth Paltrow now?  And how badly do you want to see Matthew Morrison perform on stage???

More tomorrow…

Creative Challenge Wednesday

Me (muttering to myself): We've already done cooking and music… what creative challenge are we going to do today?  Tawna Fenske suggested peeling and eating bananas with my feet, and I hate to not grab a dare… but I have no bananas in the house.  What should we do?

Miss M: Mommy?  Can we play with makeup?  And why are you muttering?

Me (apparently not as to-myself as I'd thought): Not now, Miss M, I'm trying to come up with a… wait… playing with makeup… that's like… art on your face, right?

Miss M: If I say it is, can we play with makeup?

Me: Yes!

Miss M: Yes!

And so, we busted out both my and her makeup collections (hers is oddly much more extensive than mine), and we set to work.  Or more precisely, I let her set to work, since I figured she'd approach the whole thing far more creatively.  But I added a few touches, like an old witch's costume and my Flock of Seagulls wig (everyone should have one in their closet).  The results, as you can see, were quite stunning.

Honestly, looking at the pictures, it doesn't look like there's that much makeup on me, but it's like mixing the Colonel's blend of herbs and spices — it takes many many layers (maybe 30 in this case) to get to that one unique taste.

This morning my face is completely fried (again, much like the Colonel's creations), but Miss M and I have had another evening of unbridled, beyond-writing creativity.

Now if I can just get to the market for bananas…

Creative Challenge Tuesday

This one will be quick, and possibly chemically enhanced, since I just downed mass quantities of cough syrup and will soon go back to bed.  Yesterday Miss M and I took on the creative challenge of playing instruments!

Just one problem: neither of us play an instrument.

No worries!  First, we got into our rock'n'roll outfits, which included a princess dress, an old pocketbook and head scarf of my grandmother's, random streaks of makeup, and play high heels for her; and a pair of DJ Lance paper glasses we got at the live Yo Gabba Gabba show for me.

Playing loud out of tune music iiiiiiiis AWESOME!

We busted out a recorder (the instrument, not the implement of recording) for her, and the kiddie synthesizer she's had since she was one for me.  Miss M dubbed me with the rock'n'roll name "VonAire" — pretty much her go to male name.  She was "Rosetta."  And a-one, a-two, a-one-two-three!

When dogs howl, it means they like what they're hearing, right?

Rock on, Los Angeles!  New creative challenge to come today!

Creative Challenge Monday

So this week's theme at The Debutante Ball is creativity, and yesterday I posted that much as I adore writing, it's really my only creative outlet — I don't cook, or play an instrument, or craft — and maybe I should expand my horizons.  I proudly declared that I'd make this week Creative Challenge Week, wherein I do one uniquely creative non-writing thing every day.

Yesterday I told my daughter we'd cook.  And by "cook," I meant eschew all recipes, toss ingredients together as we saw fit, and see what happened.

She was ecstatic, especially when I told her chocolate and tasting would be involved.

I imagined us making something like tweaked-out chocolate Rice Krispie Treats — marshmallows, chocolate, and butter melted in a saucepan, mixed with cereal plus whatever deliciousness we could find to toss in.  I imagined us forming the finished product into whimsically charming shapes and figures.

The actual end result… I'll let the pictures speak for themselves.

Okay, so it might not look like much, but it's actually a delicately balanced combination of everything even remotely delicious we had in the house: marshmallows, chocolate chips, brown sugar, cashews, cheerios, maple nut oatmeal, crushed graham crackers, whipped cream, prunes, strawberries, milk, sherbet, syrup, honey, and frozen yogurt, all blended into a viscous goo with the cloying scent of maple tinged with burning barely-ever-used blender gears.

Making it was spectacular.  Miss M couldn't believe we were just tossing in anything, with no regard for the right way to use it, or whether it would even be edible in the end.  Who cared if the microwaved marshmallow/chocolate/brown sugar blob had hardened into a petrified turd in the middle of our otherwise creamy glop?  It added crunch!

I have to admit, I still had big dreams for our creation.  I had visions of Miss M and I as Zell and Ingrid in Alicia Bessette's amazing book, Simply From Scratch, bumping into greatness through the most bizarre trial and error.  I imagined we'd spread the concoction onto a cookie sheet and bake it into a wild new energy snack.  Cliff Bar wouldn't know what hit it.

Then I asked Miss M what we should call our invention, and she chose "Uranus."

Miss M loves Uranus, and has ever since I explained why it was the funniest planet in the solar system.  She and I love reading about Uranus.  We especially love reading sentences like, "Uranus is a Gas Giant."

So once it was Uranus, it was all over.  The next half hour was just the two of us going back and forth:

"Ewww, Uranus smells funny."

"Why is Uranus so lumpy?"

"I'm going to take a huge bite of Uranus!"

In the end (of course), Miss M determined Uranus is a dish best served cold, so we dumped it into a cup and sat it in the freezer.  Here's what it looks like eight hours later:

My conclusion?

Uranus might not be tasty, but playing with it can bring hours of fun!

So what do you think… what creative venture should Miss M and I take on tomorrow?

My Dog Riley vs. Michael Vick

I love the Philadelphia Eagles.  Loved them since I was a kid.  Loved them beyond all reason.  I've had perfectly good days thrown into complete tailspins because the Eagles lost a game (or a Super Bowl, but we won't even go there — BLAST YOU, CHEATING PATRIOTS!!!!).

I also love dogs.  Again, beyond all reason.  I make out with my dog on a regular basis, even after I've seen him eat cat poop.  I have in fact gotten a staph infection inside my nose from one of these makeout sessions, and continue to unabashedly swap saliva with him simply because I'm that in love with him.

Then the Eagles signed Michael Vick, a man who did the most horrific things imaginable to dogs.  For sport.  For fun.  Nauseating.

When the Eagles first signed Vick, I was furious.  I was among the thousands to scream about it on Facebook (hadn't yet discovered the joys of Twitter), and joined several groups with eloquent names like "What the F@*! is Andy Reid Thinking???"  I cheered when Vick did nothing on the few snaps he took, and anxiously awaited his release at season's end.

But of course he wasn't released.  Through a series of insane twists and turns, he not only became the Eagles' starting quarterback, but is suddenly setting both team and NFL records.  Thanks to Michael Vick, the Eagles are sitting at the top of the NFC East, and people are even talking about them as a favorite to get to a certain game I won't name (even though I did just above) because I don't want to jinx them.

And I find myself in the somewhat awkward position of celebrating Michael Vick.

Loudly.

My friends have called me on the carpet for my hypocrisy, and I don't have a good response.  They're right.  Were Vick playing like this for any other team in the league (especially the Giants, Cowboys, or Redskins), I'd be screaming "Dog killer!" and throwing things at my TV.  But he's not playing for them.  He's playing for my team, and he's kicking butt.

I do think it helps that he went to jail for his crime.  I'd like to think that if O.J. Simpson were playing amazingly well for the Eagles, I'd be more nauseated than excited.  I can also separate Vick the Philadelphia Eagle from Vick the Man.  I am thrilled for Vick the Philadelphia Eagle.  Watching him play is electrifying, and I can't get enough of it… but there's no way I'd have the man over for dinner.  And he sure as hell can't babysit my dog.  And despite the fact that my go-to bit is that I say I'm buying a #7 jersey for Riley, I honestly can't bring myself to buy any Michael Vick paraphernalia.  This is in stark comparison to when Donovan McNabb was our quarterback, and I had his name and number emblazoned on every article of clothing imaginable… including Riley's jersey.

While I can come up with a million eloquent arguments for my hypocrisy, as I think about it, I realize the truth is that I'm actually not being so very hypocritical at all.  I am still disgusted by what Michael Vick did.  I am not a fan of the man.  I have strong doubts that he truly understands the horror of what he did, and I don't respect him as a human being.

As always, however, I love my team.  Passionately.  And as long as Michael Vick is playing well for the team I love, I will be in his corner… but only within the realm of football.

Am I compartmentalizing?  Rationalizing?  Perhaps, but that's the way I feel.

So I'm curious… are there other Eagles fans out there who feel the same way?  Who feel the opposite?  What about when it comes to other sports figures, like Ben Roethlisberger and Kobe Bryant?  Did the accusations against them change the way you viewed them on the field?  How about extending the argument beyond football — when you learned about Mel Gibson's neanderthal attitudes, did it stop you from enjoying Lethal Weapon, Mad Max, and Braveheart? Did all the reports of Charlie Sheen's misogyny keep you from watching Two and a Half Men?  Did you see 2002′s The Pianist, or did you boycott it because Roman Polanski directed it?  When he won the Oscar, did you cheer, or were you disgusted?

Can't wait to hear your thoughts.  And in the meantime… GO EAGLES!!!!

Disneyland: Love or Loathe?

I'm going to go out on a limb and say it: I love Disneyland.

Yes, yes, I realize to some people that's like going out on a limb and declaring "I love the concept of world peace," but I know many, many people who loathe The Land and all that a visit there entails: crass consumerism, huge expense, and oppressively large crowds.

None of that bothers me.  For me, Disneyland — even more than Disney World, since the World is so sprawling — is a place of magical tranquility.  I don't know about you, but I constantly feel like I'm being pulled in a zillion directions.  I'll be hanging out with my daughter at home, and even though I'm loving it, my head will be buzzing with everything I should be multitasking: the bills, the laundry, work… and I have to snap myself back from distraction.

When I escape with my daughter to Disneyland, I'm consciously tossing aside everything else on my plate and devoting the day to her.  We have the Annual Pass, so there's no stress about getting the most for my money and getting on every ride.  If it's crowded, we've been known to just hang out, feed the baby ducks, watch parades and fireworks, and soak in the harmony of Main Street U.S.A.  Most importantly, we're enjoying a full day together (or days, if we escape overnight), in a place that makes us both happy.

I'm not saying Disneyland is the only place we can relax and enjoy each other, but there's no doubt it's where we have the longest stretches of uninterrupted, non-distracted time.  Trips to the park, the zoo, the beach, even just scootering around the block… these are all fantastic, concentrated times together, but usually they're shorter: a few hours of bliss, followed by getting home, hopping on the computer, and diving back into the daily to-do list.

Disneyland is at least a full day affair, and it feels like a vacation every time.  I love it.

So how about you?  Especially if you're a parent, where do you like to go to shed all distractions and just play?

The New Game Show… NAME THAT SPOUSE!!!

Here's the deal — I like to blog about all the random things going on in my life, which means I tend to bring up my husband, daughter, and Riley the Wonder Dog.  While Riley's a media whore, I want to respect the privacy of everyone else, but typing "my husband" and "my daughter" again and again is awfully generic.

My solution?  I want to give them cool nicknames.  Like "Renegade" and "Rosebud," the Secret Service names for Barack and Sasha Obama.  Except without leaking their true identities to the media, which seems to defeat the purpose.

The thing is, I'm not so great with names.  I think I did well in Populazzi — I'm really happy with all the names there — but for a long time I wrote mystery parties, and would gravitate to monikers like "Brigitte Boudoir," "Drake Manley," and my personal favorite, "Testicles."  (It was for a Greek Mythology party, and pronounced "Test-i-clees")

So here's my thought: maybe you can help me.  We'll start with my husband.  I'll toss out some ideas, and you can vote for what you like best.  I'm also totally open to write-in submissions.  By the end of the month, I'm thinking we'll have a solid favorite, and that'll be his blog handle from here on in.

My thoughts so far…

'Stache — Remember I told you about the mystery parties?  Being a true mensch, my husband went to almost all of them (he actually was Testicles), and therefore has a ready supply of costume pieces… including a staggering array of fake mustaches.

The Quaker — This has nothing to do with religion, but with the fact that he seems to have infinite tolerance, at least when it comes to me.  Left to his own devices, he's very tidy, while I'm a tornado of chaos.  After 12 years of marriage, I'm amazed that he still has a smile on his face when he picks up a tangle of trash from my late-night work area (a.k.a. the dining room table) and asks, "Are we saving this for something?"

Manimal — Am I the only one who remembers this TV show?  1983?  A doctor who helps solve crimes by shape-shifting into different animals?  As the opening narration said: "Jonathan Chase, master of the secrets that divide man from animal, animal from man… Manimal!"  The show was a bust, but the name is brilliant and needs to be resurrected.  Could now be the time?  Your call.

Sheldon — This one has nothing to do with my husband, but the name has made me happy ever since Billy Crystal's rant in When Harry Met Sally. If this one wins, I'll get to actively use the phrase "Ride me, big Sheldon," which is awesome.

Addison — My own fantasy fulfillment.  My first serious dream man was David Addison of Moonlighting, so this would be my way of finally snagging him.

Coolio — I mean this not as a reference to the rapper, but simply because my husband is WAAAAAAY cooler than I am.  With a few exceptions, all my references are from the 80′s.  My husband, however, is up on everything: music, pop culture, trends… he knows it all.  Countless times he's turned on the radio and I've said, "What is this song?  I've never heard of it."  His response?  "Of course you haven't.  It's only been in the top ten for six weeks."

Picasso — My husband's an artist, which blows me away.  I can't even draw a straight line; he went to art school and even thinks visually.  He works in the movie industry, in licensing, creating visual languages to express the core visions of films.  It's very cool, but not quite as cool as the fact that our daughter always turned in the most awesome kindergarten art projects ever.  At some point I'll upload pictures of her leprechaun trap and her sculpted Medieval castle, complete with moving parts.

Zucchini — This one's from him.  I tend to slip away one weekend day a week and write at Panera, so he hangs with our daughter.  When she was 2 or 3, I came back and he'd given her a fabulous manicure and pedicure… and had done so in the guise of Zucchini.  Zucchini pulls out all the stops — hand soaks, two coats of paint — and he always knows the best nail colors for the season.  Our daughter's 6 now, and Zucchini's very much still in business.

VonAire — This one's from our daughter.  She constructs elaborate romantic fantasies in which everyone is in love with her, and one day she popped out with "VonAire" as the name of her dream man.  Out of nowhere.  I kinda love it, and would be proud to declare myself Mrs. VonAire.

So that's what I've got so far — nine options.  As I said, I'm open to write-ins too.  By the end of the month, I'll look at everyone's thoughts and officially christen my husband with his new blog alias.

Can't wait to see what it'll be!