Alison DeLuca's Blog, page 10

Mother's Day

Yesterday was Mother's Day in the US, and I was treated to a lovely spa day by my considerate family.  After a long morning of sleeping-in, I was whisked by limo to hours of massages, facials, pedicures...

Of course, that day actually occurred in some strange, alternate universe. 

Instead, my day began at 7, when I got up early to clean the house for the in-laws, who were coming over for brunch. I also had to cook that brunch; good thing I bought the ingredients the day before in between takes at the dance studio. 

(It was Dance Picture day on Saturday, complete with costume changes and make up on 8 year old's face; we're talking mascara here. All I can say is: SHUDDER)

I really don't mind about the cooking and the cleaning; would take that over standing in a two hour line to eat a meal at a crowded restaurant any day. Plus, when I serve the meal at home, we get to linger over our mimosas as long as we want without an annoyed waiter hovering and clearing his throat in a "We really need that table NOW" way.
[image error]
No, the true fun began when I had to get 8 year old kid (who had to be changed into costumes and make up the day before, remember) into suitable church clothes. She was singing in the choir - in fact, she had a solo of six words long - so she had to look presentable.

Let me just share a quick secret with you all: she could go to church in cut-offs and a hole cut into a tablecloth as a poncho, and I wouldn't care. Heck, she could wear that dance costume from the pictures. My feeling is: I got my family to church relatively clean, what more do you want?

But no, "certain other people" (husband) don't agree. So I had to bully and chivvy kid into skirt - I know, the horror - and shirt that didn't have a T in front of it. 

After church, the day went well. The waffles turned out crispy and delicious. The mimosas flowed. the bacon disappeared in 30 seconds... all was right with the world. 

I even got to sneak upstairs for a ten minute nap at one point. Winning!

The true festivities, however, began at eight o'clock at night. That was when my daughter remembered she needed to bring in a book about the planets, with many planetty facts, to school on Monday. Yes, the classic "I just recalled my homework that I had all weekend to do" move which makes all parents want to curl up in a fetal position.
EXCELLENT gift!
There are no libraries or bookstores open at 8 PM on Sunday in our town.

Therefore, Mother's Day ended for me by writing a book on planets, complete with pictures, and printing it out. Did you know that Pluto was no longer a planet? You want to know why? Because its kids drove it to a gaseous death, that's why.



Finally got kid into bed and settled down to Mad Men with my husband. I admit I was eyeing up the Mimosa leftovers. Was just about to pour, when my daughter's bedroom door opened - she had a nightmare and I had to go and lie down with her and put her to sleep, again. I blame the waffles.

So, Mother's Day for me (and, I suspect for many others) was truly a MOTHER'S day. I was a mom in every sense of the word. 

All day long.

OUCH

My daughter had to have four teeth extracted yesterday. They were only baby teeth, but they had long roots and were crowding her adult incisors, so the orthodontist proclaimed they had to go.

This set into motion an entire month of misadventures. First I took her to the dentist, and they said the teeth were too difficult to remove - I would have to take her to an "orthodontic surgeon."

That's a nice, friendly phrase that won't strike terror into the heart of the 8-year-old who hears it - no, not at all.

I called the surgeon and found that we had to go in for a consultation first. This meant dragging my kid out of school early and taking her to the scary surgeon. I know it's a good thing that Kid likes school, but it's a pain when I show up to take her to Not Fun places and she doesn't want to leave.

Once we arrived, I was so frazzled I lost my keys in the office and had to have the entire staff help me look for them (they slipped between the cushions of the chairs in the waiting room, in case you were wondering.)
"It's your professionalism I admire"
Ever get a hot flash so violent that you sweat like an outfielder under the broiling sun in Arizona at noon? Yeah, that, except mine was from embarrassment, not hormones.

Once I found the damn keys, I scheduled the appointment for the actual extraction. They promised me that the teeth would come out easily and Kid would only need a local and laughing gas.

Kid tells me she doesn't want the laughing gas. I blurt out, "But, sweetie, that's the fun part." Mother of the year, y'all.

Repeat the 'picking up from school' debacle two weeks later. Arrive at "surgeon," and kid crawls to the back of the truck and refuses to come out. I bribe, cajole, promise, and finally threaten. Start to feel like Hannibal Lechter / that dude with the lotion in the basket.

Bring kid into office and watch as she is strapped into chair. She does smile when she gets the nitrous oxide gas. SEE???

Teeth pulled. I'll gloss over those details.

Mouth packed with gauze, and we go back to the car. (I strapped the keys to one leg a la Lara Croft this time.)
Yeah, Tooth Fairy! Go Tooth Fairy!
Get home, and kid decides that all the pain was My Fault. She begins to complain for the next few hours at the top of her lungs. Refuses pain meds, jello, ice cream, movie, iPod... 

I find myself ready to offer her a Paris vacation or the entire island of Cyprus. 

Hot flash intensifies (mine). Kid insists she looks like a "Nerdy hamster" now with her incisors gone.

Sneak tylenol into kid. Tirade stops. 

I look at those teeth in the little baggie again and realize she was really very brave throughout the entire ordeal. 

Tooth fairy stops by and leaves gift and lots of dollars.

Brave girl goes to school; I see I'll have to boil the blood-stained sheets. Thank the heavens it's all over.

You know, she doesn't look like a Nerdy Hamster now... she looks like a cute, brave hamster. 

Swimsuit Season

Hurray, here it is again - the time for me to dig out the ol' suit. And despite my diet and exercise regime, my bod just isn't, shall we say, prime rib at the moment. 

So here are some suits that I shan't be wearing:

Nope. Not today, nor any day OK, this appeals to my macabre sense of fashion.

And NO ONE should be wearing this little marble bag.
Instead, here are the suits I would like to be able to buy and wear:
Yes! Maybe without the boots. Yes yes! Bathing caps - maybe not so much.
Don't you just hate it when the dog steals your pipe at the beach?
Perhaps the suspenders are a bit much. Still better than the marble bag, though.

I Love David Wong

Why do I love him? If you're a bit odd like me, you'll realize why after about a page of reading his stuff. He writes horror that is incredibly chilling as well as very funny, and  I was introduced to his stuff by Dwight Okita. Dwight never steers me wrong, so I looked at the sample of John Dies at the End.

As soon as I got to the part of the basement door handle and what it turned into, and what David (he's not just the writer, he's also the main character) says as a result, I clicked the Buy button. It was simply a crime not to get the book.

Make no mistake, the horror is very intense. Wong doesn't hold back on the gore and weird stuff that happens in his depressed, middle America town which he calls (Undisclosed.) However, I thought the most frightening part of the book was an online conversation between David's friend, Amy, and some other women. The concept was enough to keep me awake - and made me laugh as well.

Amy is a unique character. Like David, she is damaged, but she has her own strength and poise that transcends her need to take pain meds and a ghost hand. Her missing limb, in fact, is very important in the book. The relationship between her and David, as well as their dog, Molly (who might just be the best dog ever) is very real.

In fact, everything seems so real that I accepted without question an alien sentient drug called Soy Sauce, one that can bend time/space and give superpowers to the user. I accepted that there was a guy called John, a loud, boastful slacker given to much partying - which basically means he'll drink or inject any substance he's given.

Beyond those little weak points, John is loyal, brave, and at the end of the day, a great friend. However, his willingness to try Soy Sauce sucks him, David, and Amy into a series of adventures that grow more and more strange, taking them to Las Vegas, an abandoned mall, and an alternative universe.

John Dies at the End was so good that I saved up to buy the next installment, This Book is Full of Spiders (Seriously, Dude, Don't Touch It.) Yeah, that's really what the book is called. The Kindle copy cost lots of dollars, too. Not so happy about that.

Spiders is just as interesting and horrifically funny as JDATE, but the storytelling falls apart in the middle. JDATE was all told from David's point of view; in Spiders, the author cheats and switches narrators and voice several times. I could understand if it was really necessary to do that, but as I'm reading, I can see how it could have been avoided, to make it a much tighter book, and believe me, I'm not a wonderful editor. 

Still, there is loads of action, plus zombies, Red Shirts, and, yes, spiders. And - how do I put this delicately? - let's just say that the O in Wong could be easily changed to an A. Yeah, there are lots of those flopping around.
Did I mention they made JDATE into a movie?  With Paul Giamatti in it?
Be aware that the books are NOT for children or anyone under 18 - and I might make that 21, actually. They aren't for the squeamish either. But if you would like to see what a book written by Stephen King's younger brother would be like, the one who dropped LSD concocted by Dr. Jekyll, decided he didn't like it and turned to writing instead, give JDATE and Spiders a try.

One thing is for certain - both books are very unique.

In A Perfect World...

courtesy imiorganizer.com... I would be very efficient at filing things like receipts. I hate receipts.

... all my photos and news clippings* would be organized and popped into fancy albums with decorative borders. Scrapbooks, I guess they are called. Yes, I would be a scrapbooker.

... the gradual but merciless takeover of my kitchen cabinets by fast food toys, glitter, sidewalk chalk, and Barbie clothes would never have occurred.

... my hair would act more like hair and less like straggly seaweed.

... that one bite** of shrimp pasta that I just couldn't resist last night as I stowed the leftovers in Tupperware would not have gone straight to my waistline.

... my kid wouldn't beg to join the soccer team, only to have a meltdown when the soccer season actually is upon us.

... I would read more Dostoyevsky and less David Wang. Wait, no - that's not true. I'd keep the Wang.

... my freezer wouldn't be the kind you actually still have to defrost. With pans of boiling water and stuff. It's retro!
Good times, good times.
image courtesy alwaysorderdessert.com

... my husband and I would have the same sleeping temp preferences, not glacial (mine) versus tropical (his.) I'm menopausal, deal with it.

... my friends and I would hold our weekly coffee meetings each week, instead of once a year.

... I would actually SEND the Easter card to my nephew after signing, addressing, and stamping it, instead of filing it for next year, since it is May already.

... I would watch more MacNeil/Lehrer and less Fringe. Wait - that's not true either. I'd keep the Fringe.







*by "news clippings" I mean the one article published about me as a writer

**by "one bite" I mean several very large mouthfuls. Okay, maybe a small plate's worth.

Fringe - Take Deux

I used to be a huge Fringe fan; watched the show every Thursday and knew every nuance. Things got a bit odd in season three or four, and I missed a few episodes. Since it's a drama and continues to build on previous action, it was difficult to get back into the flow.

Enter Netflix, streaming past seasons of the show, to the rescue. Did I mention I never saw the pilot and first few episodes? Thanks to Netflix, now I have.

First of all: holy great premise. J.J. Abrams set up a plausible way to investigate fringe science, and do it with a fringe scientist, Walter Bishop - one of my favorite characters on television. He's so intelligent and childish at the same time; one minute he's redesigning thermonuclear physics, and the next he's trying to eat expired Devil Dogs. 

HIs relationship with Peter Bishop, his continually exasperated son, is spot on. And when Olivia Dunham enters the mix, along with assistant Astrid and Homeland Security chief Philip Broyles, the ensemble is taut and frenetically energetic. 
Walter Bishop, probably cooking up some LSD.
Yes, the comparison to The X-Files is obvious, although the working cast on X-Files was smaller and, therefore, the older show seemed to depend more on "What weird, creepy stuff can we come up with this week?"

There's still a lot of weird, creepy stuff, but the character of Walter and his history of strange experiments overrides it and makes the series very cohesive. 

Altered States, that trippy movie from the early 80's, is an obvious influence in the show. Blair Brown, who played William Hurt's wife in the movie, also appears in Fringe. Later on in the series, Leonard Nimoy shows up - swoon!

So, I'll be catching up on the past seasons, thanks to the rerun option. And what's next? Maybe I can finally figure out what really happened on Lost?

The Awakening: Movie Review

This weekend I watched The Awakening, a movie that seemed to appear out of nowhere. It's a good, old-fashioned ghost story set after WWI, a time period close enough to my own beloved Edwardian era to suck me right in.

There were several reasons for liking this film:
One of Florence's "ghost catcher" objects
1. Steampunk objects - The main character, Florence Cathcart, has made it her lifework to expose hauntings and mediums as hoaxes, and to do this she has a huge array of machinery and devices that fulfilled my steampunk soul. She arrives at a boarding school, after being summoned there by a teacher, Robert Malory, and sets up her trip cameras, ghost catchers, bells, and other cool stuff. I loved the scene where Florence, who smokes and wears trousers, screws together her inventions in order to expose the "ghost" as a charlatan.

2. Florence herself - She's played by Rebecca Hall, who is quickly becoming one of my favorite actresses (she was also in The Town with Ben Affleck.) Although she appears to be a strong, emancipated woman at first, it becomes apparent that she has issues of her own.

[image error]
3. Robert Mallory - The teacher, played by Dominic West, who asks Florence to come to the school is a veteran of the trenches from WWI. Their tortured relationship is really well-done, and he is a perfect choice for the role. 

4. The hauntings - Holy spooky! What Florence sees in the dolls house is pretty trippy. Also, much of the action takes place in the day and thus doesn't rely on the tired "creeping around at midnight in an old house" formula. There are some shocks that made me jump, and the ghost itself is perfect. Plus, rabbit doll, anyone? Shudder!

5. The photography - Just jumpy enough to be modern but not enough to make me puke. 

6. Imelda Staunton - I'll watch anything with Ms Staunton in it, and she doesn't disappoint as the Matron of the boys' school under investigation.

Always fantastic.
What's not to like:

The ending. It's unbelievable enough as it is, and the action is rushed to hurry through a certain plot point that I just couldn't believe.

Despite that, I would recommend the film for anyone who likes a bit of a scare without full-blown gore. I'm a ghost story fiend - always have been - and this one satisfied my craving for haunts.

Review : Wool, by Hugh Howey

Hugh Howey originally released Wool as a series of installments, and I can see why the book soared to the top of the charts on Amazon. As well as having what I call “the elusive compulsion factor,” it is written with a gritty realism that mirrors the subject perfectly.

It’s the story of a post-apocalyptic world, where poisonous winds scour the landscape aboveground on Earth; people live an underground silo that extends down for over one hundred stories. 
Couples must wait for someone’s death for a ticket to try for a child; every few years there is a Cleaning, when someone leaves the Silo to go outside and clean the windows, either voluntarily or under punishment. They never return.
Wool begins with a cleaning, as Holston volunteers to go outside a year after his wife made the same request. This sets into action a series of events that end up affecting every story of the Silo and beyond.
The first section is called Holston, and it is all about his experience. The following parts are named after actions and concepts in knitting: Proper Gauge, Casting Off, Unraveling, and feature other characters. 
First up is Jahns, the Mayor of the silo, and it concentrates on her relationship with Marnes, a police officer, as they go to find a replacement for Holston. Their journey to the bottom of the silo introduces other factions in a nice, geographic outline. I felt as I read Proper Gauge I was descending with Jahns and Marnes to the lower section of the silo, meeting IT and Mechanical along the way.
IT holds Bernard, who is unlikeable from the start. Mechanical is the setting for Juliette, or Jules, and she is extremely likeable. In fact, she’s one of the most original characters I’ve met in science fiction.

All the characters interact in a very original, organic way. As an author, I marveled at Howey’s prowess at herding people from one section to another – this can be a very onerous, exhausting task at times. He manages it without any deus ex machina; as the book progressed, I really felt I was living in the Silo.
The book reminded me of the best of Verne and Wells. The gears and engines are described so perfectly, it’s no surprise to learn that Howey worked as a mechanic on ship, servicing engines that were almost as large as the ones Jules works on in Mechanical.

Meanwhile, there is the rise of Bernard, who acquires more and more power and determines to keep Jules from the upper floors of the Silo. Jules herself is perfect – she’s strong and still feminine, but most of all she is incredibly intelligent. I love the way she negotiates her adventures and challenges in the Silo and out of it.
I read a lot of comments on Goodreads and Amazon that the book shouldn’t have been called Wool. I think there is a definite reason for the title beyond the chapter headings which I won’t mention since it is a major spoiler, but feel free to message me and we can chat about it, if you have read the book.
Finally, Wool appealed to me as a grown-up, neater version of Hunger Games or Divergent. The writing is very simple – and it is in the past tense and third person, hurray! There are no instances of “I go to the mirror and look at my too-big eyes…” – a major turn-off for this reader. 

Not only that, but the plot structure is also very simple – much like the spiral staircase that supports the Silo – simple, but very clever. From that structure, a believable, exciting world blooms and evolves under the ground.

***
This review is also running on the Best in Fantasy review site. Go and check out Connie's reviews - if you need more fantasy in your life, this is the perfect spot to start!

Beautiful Paintings

I always loved going to an art museum. I love the hushed atmosphere, the knots of people murmuring (or not) and the guards in the doorways - and presiding over it all is the art - some beautiful, some ugly, some beautifully ugly. 

Here are some of my favorite pieces:

Paul Klee, Twittering Machine

I love Klee's work, especially the subtle colors and concept of this one.
Walter Sickert, an English artist, produced darker impressionist pieces. Interestingly, this one has two titles, How Shall We Do For the Rent? and The Camden Town Murder: The light over their bodies is amazing.Brueghel is so earthly, so fleshy - his subjects have fat calves and homely occupations. His painting of the fall of Icarus is satisfying because the actual event occurs in a back corner of the canvas, while farming and life goes on. Only a slight splash shows what just happened.

I'm not a huge Andrew Wyeth fan, but I do love Christina's World - his portrait of the woman who had to pull herself along on the ground to get from place to place.
*****
To my mind, there is no better program to introduce or deepen one's understanding than the Sister Wendy series. Sister Wendy herself, with her huge buck teeth and her lovely voice, sees into paintings beyond the paint and canvas, finding hidden layers of meaning that always take me by surprise; plus, it's always funny to hear a nun talk about bottoms and breasts, which Sister Wendy does without any embarrassment whatsoever. 
Look at how cool she is: I love her.
And you can find her book on 1000 Masterpieces at any library, or on Amazon. I highly recommend that, as well as her television series.

Alien Perfumes

Image courtesy of thesoslab.comI've been thinking a lot about the sense of smell for the past few months. It's important to the plot in The South Sea Bubble, as the main character discovers a new dimension through scent and smell.

Perfumes can be very evocative. When I go to the candle aisle in Bed, Bath and Beyond I sniff the Birthday Cake, the Fresh Linens, the Pomegranate and Sage pillars, and I wish there were others available. 

How about Artist's Studio? There's a certain combination of cigarette smoke, patchouli, coffee, and paint that sends me right back to college days, when I used to visit my friend downtown at her apartment near PCA.

Or Irish Chemist - how about that? I'm talking about those old-fashioned chemists (aka pharmacies in the US) that always smelled of iodine and tube makeup, as well as very strong peppermint toothpaste. The huge Boots just doesn't have that smell; I'm afraid it's dying out. There's also Spanish Farmacia, which is spicier and evokes the image of the chemist tying up the tooth floss I went in to buy on our last trip. No silly little plastic bag for him - he packaged my floss in brown paper and strings, just like a most precious gift.
from crowbooks.com
And then there's Used Book Shop, which smells like old leather, wrinkled pages, and one large black cat lazing in the bow window. I'd love to have a candle to make my house smell like that.

I haven't even begun on kitchen smells: Gaga's Sunday Lunch, comprised of roast chicken and gravy, fresh peas, new spuds with butter, and Queen of Puddings. And tea, always a pot of tea.

And Arizona Desert - a combo of brush, hummingbird nectar, and cottonwood trees.

Smell is an important sense, although also a neglected one - perhaps because there are so many stinks out there that make us curl up our noses just remembering them (I'm looking at you, Elizabeth, NJ.) The very word smell is hardly poetic, and yet someone wrote a song about it - Oo oo, that smell... No, it's not poetic at all; it's a funny word. Smelly - NOT a description to put in a sonnet.

Yet I love when writers describe smells so I can fall into their worlds. It's hard enough to make a reader see or hear something - but scent is so fleeting, so immediate, that it's more subtle, harder to grasp and pin down with words.

My one final thought on the sense of smell: I've been longing for a natural perfume for a while, one that is made from organic oils and not petroleum products. A Facebook reference turned me onto Black Phoenix Alchemy Labs, a company that produces hundreds of natural scents. There are entire lines of products for steampunk lovers, for Lovecraft readers (I'm dying to try Cthulhu) and even for Neil Gaiman's Coraline. 

If you're interested, check out the site at this link and click on the graphic. It's a fun place to go.