Surviving a Knife Fight with a Zombie Biker Gang

I don’t often update my blog lately except for book reviews. Most of the time, it’s because I’m spending every free moment writing novels. (Writing blog posts takes longer than you’d think.)

But a lot of other things have been going on, so in the brief moment where I don’t feel like I’ve been beaten by a zombie biker gang and left for dead, I thought I’d write an update.

I’ve been having odd health issues for a while—okay, a year. But doctors haven’t been able to diagnose anything because my symptoms didn’t make sense. To make a frustrating story short, a spinal surgeon finally ordered an x-rayed and said, “Uh, wow…Are you sure you're not in a lot of pain? Your neck is really beaten up. It looks like the neck of an 80-year-old.” Gee, thanks.

So I found myself having surgery on a Saturday morning. I asked about recovery, medications, etc. The surgeon talked about how I might have trouble swallowing and talking, but he’d make sure I’d have this really great looking scar. And since I didn’t have folds in the skin of my neck, it would take extra surgical skill and coolness (my words, not his).

I am recovering and am the owner of two artificial discs, have had my vertebrae roto-rootered because of root nerve compressions, and have a very cool scar. Honestly, I don’t care if the scar looked like a railroad track disaster, but everyone else does. My chemist son oohs and ahs over the deep tissue sutures and especially the skin adhesive, waxing eloquent about plastic coating and hydrogen bonding (dipole-dipole interactions), London dispersion forces, van der Waal interactions, etc. (Yay! So excited about that, except, you know, not.) My husband’s retinal surgeon also took time to check out my scar and wanted to know who’d done the surgery since it was a class-act. (My husband had four emergency eye surgeries during this time. Neither of us was allowed to drive. So we are thankful to our daughter who came up from Atlanta—she and the chemist became the Patient Management Team.)

In the meantime, I try to write, which has been very difficult, especially on high doses of Percocet and Valium. However, the Valium dosages are going down and words are flowing again. I’m so very thankful. As is the rest of my family—there is no creature quite so difficult as a writer who’s not writing.

Yes, they often go in through the front of
the neck to do surgery on the spine.

Here’s a photo of my “very cool” scar. Honestly, right now it still looks a little gross—though I’m assured that won’t last. But I’d kind of like it to look gritty—because then I could make up this great story about how I survived a knife fight with a zombie biker gang using only my wits and a set of car keys. Alas, I had a very skilled surgeon.

Sadly, you can hardly see the scar. :(

Here’s me writing. It takes too much energy to get dressed first thing in the morning—so I write in my leopard pajamas. When I’m tired and my arms are burning, I get dressed for the day. Writers write—and you do whatever it takes.

Easy Holiday Grammar with Zombies

It’s holiday time and the Christmas/New Year’s cards are coming—some ripe with grammar errors, which mystified me since the grammar is straight forward. But then, a younger person (who will remain nameless) asked me a question about grammar on envelopes. I thought, “How do you not know this?” And I remembered that most young people rarely use the mail system. They text with their friends and pay bills online. So here’s a primer on envelopes. And I’ve enlisted my friends, the Zombies as helpers. Here you go.

You want to send a Christmas card to the Zombies, here are your options:

Zeno and Zenobia Zombie

1212 Dripping Blood Drive

Bloodthirsty, TN  37411

Or

The Zombies

1212 Dripping Blood Drive

Bloodthirsty, TN  37411

Or

The Zombie Family

1212 Dripping Blood Drive

Bloodthirsty, TN  37411

Under NO circumstance may you ever write:

Zombie’s (or Zombies’)

1212 Dripping Blood Drive

Bloodthirsty, TN  37411

Apostrophes are only used for contractions and to show ownership. Apostrophes are used correctly like this:

Next Saturday, Blood Suckers Anonymous will be holding a weekly meeting at the Zombies’ house. (Also note, it’s plural possessive because more than one person lives at the home of the Zombies.)

You can always double check whether you need an apostrophe by switching the sentence around. If you can use “of,” then you use an apostrophe.

Next Saturday, Blood Suckers Anonymous will be holding a weekly meeting at the house of the Zombies. 

Now go enjoy your holidays grammar-error free!

Shakespeare Costumes

Mid-July means one thing for me--sewing.

This year my son Matthew is playing Antipholus of Syracuse in Shakespeare's Comedy of Errors. It's one of Shakespeare's earliest plays and it's about two sets of twins separated at birth. It's full of word plays, physical comedy, and puns.

I picked a simple pattern this year McCalls 5907 because Matt is one of twins and so I didn't want someone to end up with a costume that was too hard. I did make some alterations to the pattern. I put in a slit between the middle seam in the front and back to make it easier to move. Matt tends to be very active on stage--I've seen him do a flip before and I didn't want anything restricting his movements (i.e., making him fall). The shirt is one I made a few years back. It's Butterick 4486. I keep hoping that Matt will outgrow it because I want it--it's made from the softest batiste fabric and I'd love it for an oversized poet's blouse.

Here's one of my favorite of Matt's lines:

I to the world am like a drop of water
That in the ocean seeks another drop,
Who, falling there to find his fellow forth,
Unseen, inquisitive, confounds himself. 

Here's another quote from The Comedy of Errors.

They brought one Pinch, a hungry, lean-faced villain,
A mere anatomy, a mountebank,
A threadbare juggler, and a fortune-teller,
A needy, hollow-eyed, sharp-looking wretch,
A living-dead man.

Hmm. Looks like Shakespeare invented zombies.

Here are some links to other costumes I've made. Click here. And here. And here. And here. 

Quarantine Us, Please

Since the school year started at the end of August, we have had maybe three weeks of health. Three weeks where everyone has been healthy at the same time. Yep, three whole weeks of health. (There were some weeks at Christmas, but they don’t count because during those weeks Luke and Ariel were recouping from surgery.)

We’ve had weird viruses: multiple versions of the cold, gastrointestinal viruses, chicken pox, etc. We even had a really weird virus, which led to bizarre itchy rashes. I thought it was from something that Matt caught during the period of his zombie abduction, but it turned out to be a viral exanthum, i.e. a strange rash caused by a virus. (Aren’t you glad that you now know the medical term for “a strange rash caused by a virus”?)

It’s gotten so bad the Matt and Jake’s piano teacher now expects one or both of the boys to be sick on lessons day. Yesterday she told me that she’s beginning to think there’s something seriously wrong at our home. Maybe molds.

I think our immune systems are on strike because of overuse and abuse. I bet you didn’t know that immune systems are unionized. See, this blog is educational. Anyway, I suspect our immune system overuse is the university’s fault. People go to class sick. I know Luke will be going to class sick today. (He has an exam in P-Chem—the physics of chemistry.) And he’ll be exposing everyone there. It was even worse last semester when Jake and Ariel’s profs wanted them to come to class even though they had chicken pox. One pediatrician called it “Spreading immunity to the community.” Hmmm. I call it spreading sickness. But I’m just a mom, so why quibble over words?

Of course, Luke, Ariel I aren’t the only sick kids in class. So when they go to class, they pick up germs from other sick kids who are in class and then everyone brings them home to share with their family/roommates. And the cycle begins again.

A while back, I decided to take action. I’ve tried isolation—stay in that room with your germs. I’ve tried rest—do not move out of that bed, you don’t need to check your email or Facebook. I’ve tried Lysol spray, which is supposed to kill viruses, on every knob and flat surface. (Please no comments on the fact that viruses aren’t really alive.) I’ve tried vitamin C. If it weren’t too cold, I’d open all the doors and windows of the house and let the wind blow through—fumigation. I remember that in some old novels they’d talk about smoking the house after a lot of people had been sick in the home. Does anyone know what that was? Was it legit? Or was it then Shakespearian equivalent of room deodorizer to get rid of the sick smell? (Smoking a room is actually mentioned in Much Ado About Nothing.)

At any rate, since all my anti-sickness measures have failed, it’s time for draconian action. Does someone out there work for the public health department? You could quarantine us, and let us get to the point where we are all healthy at the same time. That would be cool. And maybe that would end this cycle.

If not, I’m going to seriously look into that smoking the house thing.

Zombie Kidnapping

When my alarm clock clicks on in the morning, I listen to the BBC news. That is, I listen to it when the guy at the radio station doesn’t forget to broadcast it. Do you know how disconcerting it is to expect/wait for the news and then it never comes? But that’s another story.

This morning I listened to the latest update on Syria, etc. And then, BBC discussed a South African singer who’d been missing/buried for more than a year. His family thought he was dead. Anyway, he reappeared, claiming that...wait for it...he’d been resurrected and held captive by zombies. Honestly. That’s what he claims. His family, according to the BBC, is divided about whether they believe him.

 I nudged Calvin after I heard that.

Me: Did I hear that right?

Cal: Yeah. Zombies.

Me: This is the BBC, right? It must be a really slow news day.

So I Googled the story. The police plan to do DNA tests on the man and the body when it’s exhumed.

But I can see where this is going and how this is going to affect my life.

Tomorrow:

Me: Dear child, why have you not loaded the dishwasher as I requested.

Child: I was kidnapped by zombies.

Me (eyebrow arched): Really?

Child: Yeah, they brought me back because when they tried to eat me, I tasted bad.

Me: That makes sense. Go do the dishes now. Oh, and just so you know, the roof is coated with alien repellant, so they won’t be kidnapping you.




N.B. I just discovered that one of the ways Amazon recommends books to readers is the number of tags clicks for that novel. So if anyone wants to click "my tags," that would be great. The tags are located just under the What Other Items Do Customers Buy section. 

Grammar Wars

Grammar is changing. And it’s not just the Oxford comma (which you can pry from my work over my cold dead body). Scads of commas are disappearing from usage. Lately, I’ve seen Saturday December 31 everywhere. (It makes me want to grab a sharpie and add the comma between Saturday and December.) And then there are dialogue commas: “Aren’t you hungry Bob?” (Beep! Noun of direct address alert.) And what about interrupters like “however, of course, etc.” that aren’t offset with commas? I want to smack the advertisers/writers over the head with The Chicago Manual of Style.

In the last year or so, I started seeing these grammar faux pas more and more, even in books published by the big three houses. And a niggling suspicion started. So I asked a fellow grammar lover who also has been writing for a big six publisher for years about the grammar “mistakes.” She confirmed my suspicions, style sheets* were changing.

I want to rage against texting and ignorance, and I want to extol the importance of semi-colons. And not because I’m some Luddite grammar freak (which may be true, but isn’t the point). Good grammar promotes readability. And clarity. And shades of meaning. And will keep the zombie apocalypse at bay. (Oops, that was a little over the top. Sorry.)

Anyway, I’m thinking of starting The Grammar Board. It’ll be like the language academies that promote linguistic purity, but we’ll guard grammar purity... Except part of the reason I like English is its fluidity of expression, the way it responds to culture and change. Hmm. Maybe I’ll just stick to writing whiney blog posts.

*If you’re not familiar with style sheets, they’re “sheets” (booklets) that many publishers/newspapers/magazines give to their authors to keep the grammar (sometimes even politically charged word choice) consistent throughout their publication. 

Allergies

I’ve decided that allergies are a hoax. They’re real enough—just ask Calvin. This past week, I’ve been waking up sneezing during the middle of the night. I sneeze for about an hour, then sniffle for thirty minutes more before I can go back to sleep. Of course, this isn’t a new experience for me—I’ve been doing the allergy merry-go-round for years. It started with the fun allergy tests. Which consisted of “Excuse me, nurse, um, that little red mark has now spread up my forearm past my elbow and is heading for my shoulder.” The nurse made a squeaky noise and slathered me in Benadryl. Afterwards my allergist has explained that I’m allergic to dust mites, birds, cats, dogs, horses, mold, mildew, kapok, etc., etc. (Kapok? Really?)

My allergist gave me all kinds of meds. BTW, I can’t take decongestants. (The doctor discovered this when my heart was beating so fast it couldn’t get enough oxygen—who knew that could happen?) Then he prescribed the inevitable topical steroids. After a couple of weeks, he said, “Why aren’t these working?” I was thinking, silly me, “You graduated from Yale Medical School, so maybe you should know.” My allergist visits were also punctuated by the allergist pressing on my face or thwunking it with his finger and saying, “Aren’t you sure this doesn’t hurt?” Yep—no pain. (Unless you count the bruises from the thwunking.) After multiple painless thwunkings, he ordered a CT scan. Guess what? No frontal sinuses, which explained the painless face issue.

Then we did allergy shots for a year. After the 365 days, the allergist said, “This isn’t working.” Yeah, I sort of guessed that since I was still sneezing all the time. Eventually, he gave me more meds and called me “the walking sedated.” He also told me that I should avoid all allergy triggers from dust mites to mold to birds—basically, I need to live in a sterile bubble.

But I’m beginning to think that contrary to all medical knowledge, allergies aren’t really the body’s immunological overreaction to stimuli. Nope. I’ve narrowed it down to two possibilities. One, a hybrid virus developed by pharmaceutical companies to increase their profit margins. Or two, my favorite explanation for unexplainable things, allergies are a sign of the coming zombie apocalypse. I’m pretty sure it’s number two. (I'm pretty sure the CDC would agree. Check their website for their zombie apocalypse preparedness novella.)

Zombie Pandemic

I don’t get the whole zombie fascination. What is it about bloody semi-dead humans? I mean they’re not really scary—they seem incapable of rational thought. So even if there was a zombie apocalypse, it doesn’t seem like it would be too hard to defeat them. Of course, the whole undead-so-you-can’t-kill-them thing does make it a bit hard. But it seems to me that it wouldn’t be too hard to round them up a la the Pied Piper routine and take them out. I’m guessing that zombies are susceptible to RPGs. Once they are separated from their entrails, I’m guessing they’re a done deal. (That might be too gory, but I’ve got boys in the house so entrails are a hot topic.)

Jake and Matt are fascinated by zombies. Jake has made a zombie game, which is actually pretty fun since it’s a competitive/cooperative game and the only way you can survive the zombie onslaught is to work together. Matt draws murals on our big white board of the zombie apocalypse. Just when I thought my boys were getting too obsessed, the CDC (Centers for Disease Control) put out a Preparedness 101 novella, Zombie Pandemic. Yep, find out how you too can survive the Zombie Pandemic. Click here. The art is pretty impressive.