Happy Shaunakah

My family had a big celebration last night. We ordered a lavish dinner (Italian food — Original Joe’s), the kids opened gifts, and we enjoyed a double chocolate cake for dessert, dropped off by my mother, in honor of this special occasion.

You might call it Christmas Eve Eve, but we call it Shaunakah. Or Shaunikah, or Shanica, or Shaunakkah, or... much like completely unrelated Hanukkah, there are various creative attempts of the spelling. I cannot tell you which is correct for our holiday because I don’t actually know.

Twenty-eight years ago, when yours truly and my sweetheart were high school seniors we wanted to celebrate Christmas together. As teenagers we were obligated to attend several family functions. We chose the 23rd to exchange our gifts to one another

Nearly three decades later the tradition has morphed into a grand holiday, acknowledged by people who know us — and it warms my stressed-out Christmas-preparing heart. I even received texts and from friends and family wising us a “Happy [no-duplicate-of-spelling]” day. 

My mom delivered a gift basket of food (a beautiful collection of all the makings of a pasta dinner) and the cake.  My husband selected a gift for the kids, and I worked for weeks to create a gift for each of them (a Shaunakah tradition). Even though one’s an adult and one is nearly so this will always be a part of Shaunakah, I hope.

So Happy Shaunakah-er-Shaunika-er-Shanakkah-er-JUST PICK ONE AND WE’ll GO WITH IT to you and yours!

Packing Up

I’m realizing how I pack up holiday decorations is directly related to where I am mentally at that time. Today I carefully wrapped my Thanksgiving pieces in tissue, separated small things into baggies, and made sure it’s all been cleaned. I know Covid has sucked in many ways, but being home has been good for this secret introvert.

I’m worried about what I might find as I unbox the Christmas stuff. I can’t remember what was going on last December 😬

Also, does anyone else find weird sh*t hidden behind other sh*t, like this beautiful dragonfly (not visible in the photo) La Rochere carafe stuffed with raffia for who knows what reason that was stashed behind a stack of dvds in the corner of my mantle? I was looking for it recently, but didn’t think to check there. I looked in the cupboard where the other carafes are stored. Silly me.

Kids Say the Deadest Things

When I arrived for my substitute teaching gig at an elementary school health class a while back, I learned that my assignment for the day was to explain Death to the entire first grade population. The first thing on the list was to read two books to them (a little "Goodbye Grandma", anyone?). A discussion was to follow, then I was to allow them a few minutes to draw a picture of what they "think someone feels like, when someone that they care about has died."

*Many times, I had to explain that "Death" does not mean that you are hearing impaired. There is actually quite a bit of difference, I told them, between being "Deaf" and being "Dead". Ultimately, they agreed.

*Two of the classes (without any prompting from me) recommended that a good way to cope with the loss of a loved one would be to eat. I know more than a few adults who agree with this.

*Four out of the five classes included students who had very real fears about coming back as a Zombie. I assured them that it would be impossible. I realize that there have been a disturbing number of recent cannibalism reports in the media, pointing towards an impending Zombie Apocalypse. However, I decided it was probably unwise to share this information with my six-year-olds.

*One mature, albeit cynical, little girl earnestly proclaimed, "I think they are all crazy:  When you're dead, you're just dead."

The moment I read my instructional plan, I dreaded the hours to come. How could I allay their fears? How could I tell them (as the teaching guide suggested) that "being dead is like being a broken toy or a television that no longer works" and that when Grandpa Abe dies, he'll be gone forever? I was to teach them that people die when the are "very, very old or very, very sick", but what about all the questions about cancer or the little girl whose dad passed away just after she was born? What about that one boy in 7th period who saw a "burglar" get attacked by a Horned Owl, and in his haste to get away, got hit by a car and died in the street (according to him, it happened in Japan and for some reason I absolutely believed him).  

I wont even mention my difficult time directing conversation away from religion:  Heaven and Hell, and the idea of reincarnation were a little difficult for some to understand -- and I panicked when one child began to explain how God died on two sticks that were nailed together and then came back as Frankenstein (I wonder which church he attends?!).  He drew a picture to demonstrate, which I am sure  resulted in a phone call from his parents.

I heard about countless pets, grandparents, and neighbors who were loved and were now missed by my young students.  By the end of the day, I was reminded of the incredible curiosity, resilience, and lovely, sweet innocence that defines first graders. I was surprised to feel that I would willingly accept this assignment in the future,  and I was grateful for the time that I shared with these children -- teaching about an extremely difficult topic:  Spending my warm October Friday talking about death made me feel incredibly and completely alive.

Good Old Days

Nearly six months into the country being more or less closed for business, and I thought I was doing pretty all right — until I opened Facebook this morning.

Most of the time I’m good with the flashback-reminder thingies Facebook gives. When it brings back a person who’s passed away, or a person who’s passed on your friendship it brings mixed feelings, and old first day of school photos are weird sometimes if your kid is now living as a different gender, but overall memories are cool.

This morning I felt a bit gut-pinched, when reminded that I used to leave my city, stay in hotels, and willingly hang out for hours in a smoosh of stinky humans. 

Not gonna lie:  I miss the heck out of it.

SEPTEMBER 2, 2018

I just spent three days as a spectator at SacAnime. It was enormously entertaining, as expected, but I have observations:

*Apparently, if you’re a guy who thinks you're in good physical shape you can walk around shirtless, and call that your cosplay...

*You know that weird mesh patch in the crotch of pantyhose? SO MANY adorable young ladies were in cosplays requiring a leotard and tights — but instead of finding dance or cosplay tights they went with hose, and had the patch hanging out of their leotards. Sometimes it stretched almost to their knees.

It’s okay, though, because I might be the only one who noticed.

*Sometimes awkwardness occurs because you’re not sure if a person is cosplaying or just existing. I saw a possible Heisenberg, a couple of maybe Wolverines, and several people in wild Hawaiian shirts who were most likely just parents.

*I can’t understand how people can spend exorbitant amounts of money on costumes and choose to not wear deodorant. Seriously. The Sacramento convention center must have B.O. permanently seeped into the walls. Gawd help me, I’m still here, and some of these people haven’t showered — and it’s day 3 of the convention.

*a bottle of water costs $4.50. 

*The thing I was most aware of was the acceptance level. Cosplay(the costumes, makeup, wigs) provide a sort of a protective shield of marvelous confidence to people who might not ordinarily shine. Piles of teens (some longtime friends, some new connections) playing D&D, and other role play games, laughing, encouraging each other. Kids in costumes posing for photos and admiring the efforts of their peers. Overall there is an overwhelming sense of positivity and friendliness. It’s a joy to witness.

VSS Serial #2

Using daily prompt words I'll be writing an ongoing serial, to be compiled into a short story. Join me on my time-travel journey!

I'll update every day. The beginning is at the bottom! 


  _____________________________

56

(Obstreperous)

Above the obstreperous cacophony of chaos following the attack I heard my mother and father comforting a terrified young me in Swedish.The words rang out like bells, soothing my dying, racing heart.

Making eye contact with myself I smiled, knowing we three were safe.

55

(Multifarious)

The cold metal smacked my palm, as I flipped the gun, aiming it at my grandfather’s face. I thought maybe he recognized me right before the bullet hit him. 

Even as my light was fading I could feel the multifarious strings of time and space reorganizing.

54

(Archeological)

The mind does funny thinking when you know you’re dying. Would the bullet remain, once I disappeared? An archeological treasure for a kid walking to school, perhaps. 

It hit me instead of my family, but my work there was not finished. I lunged for the gun.

53

(Finity)

The problem was finity. This’d be my only trip to ‘84 so it had to be a success and I had about 2 minutes left to make it thus. Soon I’d disappear to the future.

In slow motion the assassin pointed the gun at my family. I heard the shot.

I stepped in front of it. 

52

(Negative)

Every negative emotion was resting on my heart. My grandfather tried to kill childhood me, and then had to let me live in his house for the next decade:  No wonder he was constantly grumpy.  

I needed to pull it together quick, and stop the past before it happened.

51

(Metric)

I felt as though I’d been kicked in the gut by a metric ton. My grandfather had orchestrated the murder of my parents. He killed his own daughter. 

In slow motion I watched the hitman draw his weapon. 

Was I meant to have been one of the targets?

50

(Set)

“Grow a set, and do what you’ve been paid to do!” Grandfather spat.

He was huddled in the shadows with a shadow, who stepped into the light - revealing my parents’ murderer-to-be.

My father exited the diner first, holding the door for Mamma and young me.

49

(Permute)

Before I open my eyes I touch my face, arms, and heart to ensure time travel hasn’t permuted my being. Cold air bites my ears, which pick up my grandfather’s voice.

Grandfather wasn’t there the night my parents were killed. 

At least we didn’t know he was.

‪48

(Transitive)

In the swift breath of transitive movement I see my life running through my head; a flickering, old-timey movie. Things I’d forgotten and some I wish had remained hidden forever. I feel suspended, twisted, empty-full, and then I am there.

11/14/1984. 

7:13PM.

47‬

(Existential)

‪My entire life has been one giant existential crisis. I’m taking things into my own hands. Literally. I grasp the syringe, flick the tip of the needle, and take a breath.‬

‪“Wish me luck,” I plead with my cat.‬

‪He just licks his own butt.‬

‪1984, here I come.‬

‪46‬

(Quantity)

‪The vials I stole from the lab taunt me. They know what a delicate balance mixing them will be. The wrong quantity of any of the little glass containers could seal the doom of many. ‬

‪Schrödinger’s whiskers twitch. He purrs, as I pray I measured correctly.‬

45‬

(Triangle)

‪If I’m going to do this I need to move quickly, before I talk myself out of it. To allow for any unknowns I’m going to arrive a few minutes before my parents’ killer does. I should still have time to stop him. First step: Triangulate the date, time, and place.‬

‪ ‪44‬

(Commute)

‪It’s funny to think that my commute for the business at hand will be both nonexistent and incalculably long. I’ll say goodbye to my cat, do the injection, and arrive 36 years ago within a nanosecond. ‬

‪I feel my courage wavering.‬

43‬

‪The serum’s formula was built using morphism. The chemicals are always the same, with nearly immeasurable differences to jostle the frame of time and place. I need to be in San Francisco before 7:18pm on November 14, 1984. I only have enough supplies for one trip.‬

‪

42‬

(Group)

‪I just need 24 hours to regroup. I’ll mix the serum, spend time with Schrödinger(he’s been an excellent cat, and might end up with someone else this time around. Who’m I kidding? He’ll end up with someone else), and brush up on my Swedish. Then back to 1984.‬

 41‬

(One)

‪One thing is becoming crystal clear to me:  I’ve got nothing to lose. If I go back in time, and I fail, at least I won’t spend the rest of my life wondering if I could’ve changed my life’s trajectory.‬

‪Wondering is a form of torture I can no longer stand‬.

40‬

(Zero)

‪I question my sanity. What if going back negatively alters something in space-time continuum? Saving two lives could make endless tendrils of change. Should I  just sell the serum for an amount with a lot of zeros? 

What price do you put on your family’s lives?‬

39‬

(Complex)

‪My plan may sound insane to you. You might be thinking, “Why time travel? Why not just get some therapy?” The answer is this: Inventing something so complex is not nearly as complex as my yearning for a version of the past where my parents survived.‬

38‬

(Field)

‪My mother was a wonderful teacher, my father a scientist — which was originally why I’d chosen the field. As I studied I couldn’t shake the concept of time travel. The idea that my parents could be saved by me, while young me watches is too tempting to resist.‬

37‬

(Vector)

‪My stay in the mid-1980’s will last mere seconds if planned well enough (in truth I’ve allowed it to fill nearly all my brain’s real estate since first conceiving the idea). Once the vector sting of serum enters my blood I’ll quickly be off to the races.‬

36‬

(Genus)

‪One thing which must be taken into consideration is the length of your stay in the past. Traveling through time without a planned exit is like spelling Genius without the “i”: It’s still functional, but probably won’t function in the way you’ve intended.‬

‪35‬

(Torus)

‪Moving from present to past, and back to present is like a theme park water slide, as a torus. Movement happens within a nanosecond, but if slowed down you’d feel the left to right pull. Too many trips in succession might give a killer case of motion-sickness.‬

‪‪34‬

(Manifold)

‪If the combination of ingredients are incorrect, the time machine is broken. It’s not like having a cracked manifold, where you’ll still more or less keep up with the car club. This machine goes straight into your veins, and must not be in need of a tune-up.‬

‪33‬

(Topology)

‪One of my fears is inaccurate survey of vector field topology. When time and space collide, they make an angular shape. Time’s section is roughly 9/12ths the length of space. If inaccurately calculated you may arrive back in time not entirely whole, if at all.‬

32‬

(Iff)

‪I lied. If anyone —the scientist, investors, et al— guessed the truth they wouldn’t have given me a dime, nor the time of day. But I sold it. They bought my time travel spiel; hook, line, and sinker. Here’s the deal:  No one will remember it iff my plan’s a success.‬

 ‪31‬

(Logic)

‪Many would insist time travel doesn’t make sense. Applying logic to something so historically abstract boggles the logical mind. It’s the stuff of fiction and fancy, and rightfully belongs there, they’d say. ‬

‪Well, they’re dead wrong.‬

30‬

(Epsilon)

‪A few scientists knew I was on to something big, but bowed to the pressure to behave like I was naught but a quack. ‬

‪Though I often refer to it as “The Serum”, it has a name. The head of my dept said it had just above no chance. I named it Epsilon.‬

29‬

(Calculus)

‪It’s not as simple as even calculus. It’s its own beast of accounting, born of late nights and more error than trial. I’ll always feel the weight of the test animals they insisted we use. The early trials sent many to the past to not return. They’re still out there.‬

28‬

(Number)

‪You see, it’s  really a complicated game of numbers. The ingredients are identical for every trip, but the measurements change the amount of time you’re gone for and where you’ll end up. Too much of one thing might send you minutes, years, or miles off track.‬

‪27‬

(Math)

‪Although the formula was mostly my invention I required a mathematician’s help on the calculations. I wanted to get the timing as precise, as possible. I didn’t want to expect to land in the 1980’s and find myself in, say, the 1880’s, instead.‬

‪26‬

(Agape)

‪And yet. My soul has had a mile-wide hole right in the middle of it my entire life. If traveling back to that night affords me the agape love I’ve been missing from my mother and father I don’t really give a lab rat’s a$$ whether I remember it, or not.‬

‪25‬

(Paper)

‪On paper the it looks simple: Plunge the serum into a subject, who disappears for a programmed amount of time. The truth is it has the potential to be quite a bit more complicated. Upon return, any actions they performed will have rearranged the present. ‬

‪24‬

(Hero)

‪I’m not trying to be a hero. This life has not been an easy one. I just want the chance to have an existence where my parents survived, and I wasn’t raised by my bitter, cold grandfather. Although, if all goes well I’ll never know the difference.‬

‪23‬
(Iridescent)
‪Iridescent tears of joy flowed freely, dampening my cheeks. Oh, who am I kidding? It was sweat. I was sweating buckets in anticipation of giving the serum-MY serum-my effing-time-effing-travel-effing-serum another try.‬

‪This time using my own veins.‬

‪22‬
(Nostalgia)
‪Nostalgia has invaded my thoughts. ‬

‪Schrödie survived the injection, and his trip to and from yesterday. He ate the tuna (it’s the first thing I checked, after his kitty pulse).‬

‪I’m thinking of my mother’s perfume, my father’s kind smile, and seeing them alive, again.‬

‪21‬
(Phobia)
‪My wife had feline phobia, which is one reason I no longer have one. A wife, I mean. ‬

‪My love for Schrödingpur should tell you how much I believe in the serum. The cat’d been whining for the open can of tuna since yest‬erday. He was about to go back there for a bite.

20
(Exorcism)
‪I’ve been obsessed with the concept of time travel, since I was a child. Almost immediately after watching their execution I was possessed by the goal of finding a way to preemptively save my parents. Even an exorcism wouldn’t clear my mind of this demon.‬

‪19‬
(Nectar)
‪I pulled out of the lot, waving at the attendant in his plexiglass booth; as I had probably a thousand times, when I used to work there.‬

‪I’d actually gotten away with it.‬

‪On the way home I stopped for my idea of nectar of the gods: a 16-oz cherry Slurpee.‬

‪18‬
(Galaxy)
‪This is how it would end. I would get caught, AFTER successfully sneaking in AND out of the lab, AND having a run-in with security while in the process of stealing from my ex-coworkers. Because I couldn’t remember where I parked. A galaxy of cars taunted me. ‬

‪17‬
(Dinosaur)
‪Crenshaw’s a dinosaur. God knows how he’s still employed as lab security. Not terribly intelligent, either.‬
‪“I’m leaving. Just had to fill out a little paperwork.”‬

‪I saluted him and left the building, smuggling my future (and hopefully my past) in my pockets.‬

‪16‬
(Poem)
‪Time to skedaddle. Reports tucked under my coat, vials in my pockets, I nearly made it when the guard,Crenshaw stepped in my path.‬
‪“Got a poem for ya. One-a those whatchucallits? Highkews:‬
‪What’re ya doin’‬
‪Better leave right now dumba$$‬
‪You don’t belong here.”‬

‪15‬
(Schism)
‪As the schism grew, I felt like I was peddling in place, barely treading water. Any support I had, financial or otherwise, dried up quickly once that coward,Dr. Foley, told everyone I was crazy. ‬

‪Well, I’m not crazy: Time travel is possible.‬

‪Their freaken loss.‬

‪14‬
(Empathy)
‪I’ve got big plans. My empathic nature fuels my drive. If the serum can take a human being to yesterday, there’s already a possibility that it can take us back two years, to save Dr. Jenkins’ baby from cancer, and even further: to save my parents lives,in 1984.‬

‪13‬
(Ostracize)
‪I knew my time at MayCorp was short, once ostracization began.Not outright hostile, but obvious, nonetheless.Within weeks I was out. ‬

‪Now I was back, and more ready than ever to continue my experiments. ‬


‪First I had to get out of the building without being caught.‬

12
(Pandemic)
My coworkers found issues with time travel. Some were worried about ethical implications, or scrambling the space-time continuum. It was never my plan to make it available to just anyone. 

Imagine what could be prevented: murders, illnesses, even pandemics.

11‬
(Anathema)
‪I found lab culture to be anathema: competitive and secretive. I didn’t need to be called “Old Sport” over cigars, but having a conversation without second-guessing the motive would’ve been nice. That’s one part of my new adventure, about which I’ll not complain.‬

10
(Chronicle)
I kept my head down and acted like I belonged. Oldest trick in the book. “Get in and get out,” I reminded myself.
My plan was to swoop through the lab without pausing, pocketing vials of the serum I designed, and snagging my chronicle of time travel experiments.

9
(Sycophant)
I thought Dr. Jenkins (damn sycophant) saw me, but I guess he didn’t recognize me, as I wasn’t legally supposed to be there. I may have caused some problems when I was dumped from the staff. When I’ve perfected the serum I’ll visit that day to fix my reputation.


8
(Ocean) I am masquerading as one in a swarm of scientist krill; fedora pulled low, deactivated work badge around my neck. This ocean is is full of sharks in white lab coats, but if I focus on stealing the time-travel serum and getting out my life raft is waiting.

7
(Charisma) Once investors were gone, so was my welcome. I was asked to clear my desk the next day, but included some serum in my moving box. A few trips back in time had depleted my supplies so a lab visit was in order. I prayed charisma would get me past the guards.

6
(Xenophobic) I see wild eyes every night when mine close:Those of the addict who killed my parents.

Their English was not terrific, and the panic switched their speech to Swedish, pushing some kind of xenophobic button; sealing Mamma & Pappa’s fate.

5
(Orphan) My new, confused acquaintance went on his way, assuring me that yesterday-him was inebriated enough to not remember assaulting today-him.

The serum worked, as predicted! A bit more tinkering & I’d be able to travel to my childhood to prevent becoming an orphan.

4
(Pachyderm) “I went to yesterday! How...?” “What happened to you?” A nice day-old shiner sat where one hadn’t been, all blue-grey&wrinkled, like a pachyderm

3
(Aesthetic) I admire my watch’s steampunk aesthetic. 3:12. Almost 2 minutes to go.

I’d adjusted the serum to 5 minutes: Enough for my test subject to wonder what the hell was happening and hopefully not enough to alter space-time continuum. 

5:00

“The f*ck was that?!” Bingo

2
(Heretic) To such depths I’ve been reduced: Paying a stranger to be my guinea pig. 

Once I was deemed heretical by the science community all funding ceased, but I KNOW this is possible. When the guy I stuck with that needle gets back from yesterday I’ll have my proof.

1
(Skeptic)
Found two guys having a smoke behind the diner. “Wanna make an easy 50?” 1squashed his cig and went inside. A skeptic. “What I gotta do?” the other asked. “This.” I held up the needle. He pocketed the cash and rolled up his sleeve. Picking a vein, I gave the injection. He disappeared.

Shelter in Place Wish

Here we are, on day 49 of Shelter in Place, and this is my first post on my blog, since February. 

Honestly, what is wrong with me? I have endless hours, practically alone in my house all day (kids doing online school, and the mister working in his sparkling new home office AKA corner of our bedroom) and I go to bed exHAUSTED*. I'm sleeping hard, and I'm having straight-up anxiety dreams, too. Most of the dreams have some element of shopping, or rather walking around Target browsing and touching every single item. 
(*FWIW I really, really wanted to add "Y'all" to the end of that sentence. Most social media-ing and blogging seem to include "Y'all" lately. I'm from California, and it would make much more sense for me to end sentences with "Dude", but here we are, Y'all.)

I should be writing. I should be doing work with the FOUR completed manuscripts just hanging out watching Netflix with me. I'm super distracted for some reason, though. Also, I keep falling into the internet shopping hole. It's dangerous, too, 'cause it's like rubbing a genie lamp. You practically just show a hint of interest in something and then Poof! it shows up on your porch. 

I've been attempting to stay away from actual shopping, but there's still a ton of Oh Look At That-ing every advertisement that comes my way. Let me tell you:  Big Brother totally has me figure out, because pretty much everything I'm being shown appeals to some aspect of my bizzare-o personality. Roller skates from 1907? WANT! That magnetic eyeliner/eyelash kit? PLEASE? Potholders with filthy sayings on them? COME TO MAMA.

And then there's the stuff from Wish.com.

Now, I'm not actually allowed to shop on that website, anymore. Ever since Christmastime when over 20 items arrived in our mailbox from Wish in one day, I have been instructed to no longer patronize them, and to just look away. I do, most of the time. Okay, okay: Sometimes. But I don't buy anything. 

I mean, how can a reasonably curious person look away from this?:

What are these??? Cute, pink doobies? I'm dying to know! Somebody buy some so you can tell me what they are!

Is this a... what? A giant... small intestine pillow? 
C'mon:  $15 for a human-size body pillow is a steal. Even for a gross one.

TWO DOLLARS?! Do you SEE the size of this f*cken strawberry? If I were still a Wish shopper, I'd buy the damn thing -- just to see how they ship it from China!

This one is tricky. It looks sort of like it's free, which makes me think it's a real-life haunted Chucky doll, and they're trying to trick someone into adopting it. This is part of the Wish fun, though, because this guy could be five inches tall or five feet tall, and you wouldn't really know until the mail carrier knocked at your door. 

A five-inch Chucky might be funny, but a five-foot one could murder you, amiright?

What. The. Heck.

Can they really beat the average Maruchan price of -- what, like, 29 cents a bag? Since it's from Wish it could turn up, and actually be tiny noodles for Barbie, or a Maruchan pillow, or something... Damn, now I'm curious.

THIS.

There are lots of questionable items being advertised to me, by this site. I included this particular one, because I love how they included rain, like it's the Flashdance version of bike testicle photography. Did the PR firm suggest this? Did the ad photographer suggest it? "Hey, know what'll sell these bicycle balls? RAIN."

$4 sounds like a great price, but if you buy these I will never, ever be able to look at you. 

Especially if you're sitting on the seat with the sack.