Whoa nelly, it's lunchtime, I've got so much stuff to do! But I also have to get up to Target to pick up a prescription, so time to head outta here for an hour. But first, why not check in real quick-like with Rob?

Pisces Horoscope for week of November 19, 2009

Pisces (February 19-March 20)
In the coming week, keep a lookout for invisible snakes, pretend ghosts, and illusory dragons. Be prepared to gaze upon gruff displays that are no threat to you and hints of fermenting chaos that will never materialize. In other words, Pisces, your subconscious mind may be prone to conjuring up imaginary problems that have little basis in reality. I exhort you to fling them aside like a superhero brushing off toy monsters.
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Sounds good to me!

Originally published at Examorata. You can comment here or there.

Dear Steve,

Forgive the forwardness of the introduction, but as many kisses as you’ve stolen from me in the dark, I think we can dispense with a few formalities. You have fun, now, referring to yourself as “Uncle Stevie,” and in your approachable, light-hearted, and – yes – avuncular column in Entertainment Weekly that’s just fine. You probably get to talk to folks who don’t go back quite so far with you, and you can be Uncle Stevie to them all you want. But for now, just for a little bit, you’re going to be Steve, and I’m going to talk a while.

You don’t remember when we first met, of course. Why should you? You’re a busy guy, meeting a lot of people, shaking a lot of hands, looking in a lot of unfamiliar faces. I remember, though. I remember a bin in a used book store, four “cut out” paperbacks for a dollar. Fifty cents’ allowance a week didn’t go far, even in 1984, but that was two paperbacks if I’d managed to scrounge a few extra pennies for sales tax.

You were in your own world, your own place in 1984. By many accounts, including your own, it was maybe not the best place, and believe me when I say I’m sorry for that. But when I was a girl, and I met you for the first time, the place you took me to was magical. Not in a unicorns-and-fairies kind of way, heck no, but magical all the same. Life in a town called ‘Salem’s Lot was changing, and I got to watch. Life in that town was stripped down to its essence, life in that town was lost and changed forever, and was it a kind of voyeuristic delight to watch that, to feel a chill down to my toes when I thought of the gentle scratches at the window? It sure was. Unicorns and fairies had nuthin’ on that place.

That’s when we met, Steve. Oh, you weren’t Steve then, and I wasn’t fully who you came to know either. No, becoming that person took a few more years, a few more books, and a bunch more nights with that funny toe-chilling creep. I got to know your friends, and you introduced me to some folks who became good friends of mine. You don’t know it, but I even fell in love a little here and there. Jack Sawyer, he was the first. Striking out on his own like that, so close to me in age, going through so many things I couldn’t even imagine. Ben Hanscom, so overcome with love in a way I thought no boy actually could be. And Roland. Did you know, when you introduced Roland to me, that you’d start a lifelong relationship?

Do you know, I think maybe you did. You sly dog. Because each time you introduced me to someone else unforgettable, and then made me feel pain and terror on their behalf, you pulled me a little closer. Each night up way too late reading, each toe-chill, was one more chance for you to slip your hand into mine in the dark.

Why write to you now, Steve? Why, after twenty-five years, should I be made so bold, to declare myself in such a manner? Simple. Last week, our paths actually crossed. It’s something I never thought or expected would happen. And of course, after such a gift of words from you across the years, I had few – and inadequate – words at my disposal at the time. You should have seen me when they interviewed me for the news, though, Steve! I wouldn’t shut up! Face to face, though, simple pleasantries and smiles had to suffice. Time was short, the line was long, and signing your name hundreds of times has got to get pretty old, pretty quick.

Let me tell you, because you’ll laugh, what a thrill it gives me to take that book down and look at your name, scrawled in actual by-God ballpoint pen. If I run my finger over it I can feel the impression on the paper. Then I grin like an idiot again. Yep, I can see why you don’t do this all that often. Here you spend all your time writing me love letters, and I go all googly-eyed the second I actually get to watch your hand holding the pen.

Thank you. For every mash note, toe-chill, stolen kiss in the dark, and gentle scrape at a dark window. I didn’t need the signature, you know, though it now holds pride of place in my collection of letters from you to me. It seemed only fair to finally write one back.

Sincerely yours,
I remain,

Constant Reader

Seriously people. What is going on here? I know that time goes faster as you get older, but I ain't that old. Time is moving at a disproportionate rate. I need to adjust my mortality meter, or update my time-sense, or somehow arrange it so that the 32-hour work-week becomes standard.

( Barring any of that, though, I'll take the regular ol' 48 hours while I got 'em. )

Roger Corman receiving a lifetime achievement Oscar. Hooray!

One last reminder, tomorrow night is the Round the Mountain concert at the Patterson. Not sold out yet, though it apparently usually does! (This is the third year they've done the show.) Anyway, I'm going, and it's general admission, so if you feel like going let me know and we can meet up!

My turn! msteleute and p_sunshine have shared their tales of yesterday already, but you didn't think I'd stay quiet, did you? Heck no!

I honestly never thought or expected this would happen. For a while, I believe, Stephen King stopped doing signings entirely. Once in a while he would sign at small independent bookstores. Of late he has been making himself more available for charities and/or causes that are important to him, but as far as just showing up at your local Crown Books (Blast from the past! "Books cost too much!") or whatever and having Stephen By-God King sign your book? I thought the chances were slim to none.

When we got back to the Dundalk Walmart at about 4:00 yesterday, we didn't see a line, which we thought was odd. Fortunately when we went in, the friendly lady who had given us our wristbands five hours ago told us what was going on. "Blue bands," the 400 people who were guaranteed a signature, were lining up at the back of the store. Because the weather was so foul, "white bands," the alternates, would be summoned to the back when it was time to line up. Left to our own devices in Walmart we...just went to the back to look at the area that was set up. We weren't there to shop, we were there for Stephen Holy Crow King. We chatted. We took pictures. Eventually they started lining up the alternates by number, and we stood in the back behind the guaranteed-signature folks. Ahead of schedule, Stephen My Hand to God King came out and gave a little chat. I'm sure it was friendly and funny and pleasant, because he seems like that kind of guy, but only about the first three or four ranks of "guaranteed signature" people could actually hear. The PA system left something to be desired.

Aside from a few people getting tossed out for taking flash pictures, the thing went like a well-oiled machine. By 5:45 Stephen I Can't Believe This Is Happening King was signing books. As the ranks of the 400 grew smaller and smaller, we alternates at the back became more and more hopeful. At last they started letting us in, just a few at a time, in the number-order of our white wristbands. The three of us were 16, 17, and 18. When they called for numbers "13 through 32" I believe there may have been literal "squee"ing. We showed our wristbands. We were let through. We showed the store manager our books, our receipts, and our wristbands again. (Only Under the Dome would be signed. Only copies purchased at that particular Walmart.) We were in! We really were! Time for more (non-flash) pictures of Stephen Sweet Mary What Am I Going To Say King!

Everyone involved was very nice. Walmart employees offered to take unobstructed pictures. The cops who were on author duty were smiling and patient. The fans were nearly all polite and happy. And eventually I got up on that little stage, and I smiled like a doofball and spoke like an idiot, and I met the man whose work has given me more pleasure in my life than I can possibly quantify. He signed my book, and made a joke. I smiled and thanked him and laughed and walked on. HIGHER THAN A FREAKIN' KITE. As I joined MsT and P_S on the other side of the signing-stage, there was a reporter there from WBAL. He asked MsT a few questions, and then asked me a few. He asked for my name and I said, "Jen." He asked for my last name and I grinned and said it. "Could you spell it for me?" he said, camera still running, not writing anything down. I did so. I will tell you right now that I set the DVR for the 11:00 news, and I was totally on it, and they totally did NOT use my name. Didn't think so! Heehee.

After the signing we went back through the city, had dinner at the Austin Grill, and eventually wended our way home after calling our various loved ones to effuse at them. By the time I got home and uploaded pictures and finished a few things online and settled the heck down it was after 11. Yes, I was up far past my bedtime but it was TOTALLY worth it.



Click through for the set! Christine's awesome photos are here. In fact I am totally ganking this awesome one simple_simon took of me at the end of the night and posting it here as well to demonstrate my giddiness in photographic form!



Here's the Baltimore Sun article about the book signing. WBAL appears not to have the footage from the signing on their site, meaning unless you come to my house and watch it on my DVR, you probably won't see my deathless 5 second interview.

Oh! msteleute just alerted me to the fact that I am in the background in part of this video from WJZ as well! Two networks! That's an interesting one because it goes into why the signing was held at that store.

First off, Veterans' Day is an important and solemn day. I thank all our veterans for their service and sacrifice.
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Now I seriously have to squee!

A few days ago, I learned via Twitter that Stephen King was going to be doing a book signing Wednesday at the Walmart in Dundalk. For several reasons, I thought it was a false report. For one thing, it was posted on some kind of fan blog and didn't look very official. For another thing, Stephen King hardly ever does book signings. For a third thing, it was at a Walmart. In Dundalk.

But no, it turned out to be true! Learning that you had to get a wristband to be one of the 400 whose books would be signed, and that those would be given out at 7 a.m. today, I sighed and gave up the idea. I didn't really want to take the whole day off and drive to Dundalk at like 6 a.m. and wait around. This morning, though, thanks to dharshai, msteleute, and the power of Twitter, I learned that not all the wristbands were gone. This was at 10 a.m.! I called the store and they said yes, there were a few left. You had to show up in person, you could only get one wristband each. I quickly corralled MsT and p_sunshine and we took early lunch breaks and drove up there.

By the time we arrived all the 400 "guaranteed signature" wristbands were gone. They were giving out "alternates." So the three of us are #16, 17, and 18 in the alternate line. I think our chances are good. We have to go get in line at 4:00 so I wound up having to take a bit of leave anyway, but I think it's worth it! I sure hope so!

I am ridiculously excited. Like a little girl! Honestly, from when I first read 'Salem's Lot when I was 12, I have been completely hooked. Have there been a couple of bad books? There sure have. Have I gotten a lifetime's worth of pleasure and enjoyment out of the rest? Damn skippy!
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Almost an afterthought this week: Breszny:

Pisces Horoscope for week of November 12, 2009

Pisces (February 19-March 20)
According to Leonardo da Vinci, you could magnify the power of your prayers or meditations ten-fold by bathing in purple light. Back in his time, that was easiest to accomplish by standing near a church's stained glass window that was tinted purple. These days you can get the same effect with the help of a purple light bulb. Alternately, you could simply close your eyes and visualize yourself surrounded by a shimmering purple glow. I recommend this practice for you in the coming days. It's an excellent time to do anything and everything to intensify your spiritual power. P.S. Experts in color theory say that purple nurtures the development of the imagination, which would be of great value to you as you tone and firm your devotional impulses.
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I will visualize my book, signed by Stephen King, surrounded by a shimmering purple glow!

That weekend went fast! Was it the lovely, mostly un-November-like weather? Was it the fun things to do? ( Maybe it was all those things and more! )

You there! Yes, you! Certainly you would like a loving, happy kitty to snuggle with on those cold winter nights, wouldn't you? WOULDN'T YOU?!

Like...this loving, happy kitty?



(Click through for set.)

This morning I totally remembered to bring my camera with me when I left to work out! Then, of course, The World's Friendliest Stray Kitty did not show up for kibble this morning. Oops. I hope he's okay! He's so friendly, I keep waiting for someone else to adopt him - guess I'll wait and see!

The past two days he's been hanging out down near my apartment building more, which is cool. Not only has he been hopping in my car in the mornings with me, but last night when I came out to take the day's litter-box scoopings out to the dumpster, there he was! So I went back inside and got him a can of food and brought it out to him. Desmond watched from the window!

Anyway, at least I'm carrying the camera around now so if I get a chance, I'll snap a few pictures of him. I got a nice one of Extra and Stumpy this morning!

Whoa, busy today. So busy I almost forgot about Rob and the Weekly Weird!

Pisces Horoscope for week of November 5, 2009

Pisces (February 19-March 20)
The planets are aligned in such a way that suggests you may be able to experience an orgasm solely by meditating. This rare cosmic alignment also means that it's conceivable you could generate money or attract new resources by following your holy bliss, or that you might stumble upon the tricky treasure you've been looking for in all the wrong places. But I can't say for sure that you will actually be able to capitalize on any of these remarkable opportunities. It will depend on whether you can more fully express one of the skills that is your birthright as a Pisces: being wild and disciplined at the same time.
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Ennnnhh.
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Okay, I swear I'm putting my camera by the door so I don't forget to take it with me when I leave to work out tomorrow morning - it's the only time I see the outdoor kitty in daylight, and that will fade soon enough. I'm going to take pictures and someone out there's gonna fall in love and want to give this sweet, loving kitty a home. If not, I'm going to have to try to get him into a foster program somewhere or something, because the other outdoor cats aren't very tolerant of him (some more than others). I do think he's abandoned, and I believe he's already neutered - my theory is, since he showed up around the beginning of October, that someone might have been evicted/had to move and couldn't afford to keep caring for the cat. Seeing how many people care for the outdoor colony, they probably assumed (rightly, it seems) that this cat would be cared for as well. He's gray and white - he looks a lot like Desmond but with more gray, actually. His nose is half pink and half gray and he purrs a lot. He jumps in my car with me all the time now. If you, or anyone you know, is interested in giving this kitty a loving home, just let me know.

Originally published at Examorata. You can comment here or there.

In 1971 my mother and father and brother took a trip to England. My brother was seven years old at the time and it was the first really big vacation they’d ever taken together. Sometime before they left on that trip, someone advised them that when they took pictures, they should have them developed as slides. It was easier to share them that way, and vacation slides were a very popular idea at the time. My parents dutifully took many rolls of film, and when they came home they had them magically turned into several carousels’ worth of slides. My mother, a thorough and deliberate person, actually labeled the carousel cards with what the images were, so that in the years to come they could refer back to the cards as the memories faded. In 1978, when I was six years old, the family took another trip to England, this time with me and my grandmother as well. Once again, we came back with roll upon roll of film that we had developed as slides. The carousels stacked up in the hall closet with the ones from the 1971 trip, little piles of memory.

Over the years, after the second trip, it became a sort of tradition to get out the England slides and look at them. This usually happened at least once a year; I’m certain that sometimes it happened only because I whined until we watched them. (Though honestly, no one ever minded watching them.) We would watch the 1978 pictures because they were newer and fresher and because we all remembered it, but sometimes we would watch the slides from the earlier trip too. When I was very young I was mainly only interested in the ones that involved me, but as I grew older I found it a lot of fun to look at the older slides. My parents and brother looked so different, way back before I was born! Look at the funny clothes! Look how silly their hair was!

One time, when it had been a while since we had watched any of the slides, we sat down and watched them all – the 1971 trip and the 1978 trip. As we went through the 1971 trip, the stories were told again, the same familiar ones I’d heard as they tried to share the memories even though I hadn’t been there. But this time, for whatever reason, there was a new story. Maybe my parents decided I was finally old enough. Maybe they’d had a glass of wine or two. Maybe they simply forgot they hadn’t told me before.

At the end of a long day’s drive, my mother and father and brother reached the hotel at Exmouth. My conscientious, plan-ahead father of course had reservations for them. A double room, with a bed for Mom and Dad and a bed for my brother. Only this time there was a problem. This time when they arrived, the reservation had been lost. What were they to do? They were tired, they had a young son, they did not want to drive far or long to try to find another hotel. The manager tried to help them and said that he could give them two single rooms, as all the doubles were booked. My parents were skeptical, and asked if a cot could be brought into a single room for my brother. Apparently my brother wanted none of this. He had heard “two single rooms” and decided he wanted his own.

My memory of this telling is imperfect, and their own memories of that night were probably also imperfect, but what it came down to was: They were tired and my brother wore them down. With assurances from the manager that their son would be safe staying a few rooms away, my parents took a single room for themselves.

In those days, many hotels would apparently shine your shoes if you left them out overnight for housekeeping. My father, a lifelong fan of the penny loafer, left his pair out that night. When he collected them the next morning they were freshly shined and the two American pennies had been replaced with two shiny ha’pennies. My father was not a very materialistic guy, but he was a complete Anglophile, and he kept those pennies in his shoes as a souvenir. He was also very sentimental. In the coming months they would learn that their alone time on that trip meant something else very special to them. About nine months after that night my brother wanted his own room, I was born. My father still had the pennies. He kept them always, and told me the story, and when it came time he told me that I was to have them.

Now I do. They are tarnished and I cannot read the year or make the image of the Queen out very clearly. Those two grotty pennies are about the most precious things I own. I have spoken to a jeweler that I know and trust and soon I will take them to him, and we’ll figure out a way to make them into a pendant that I can keep with me. My father may have kept track of two small pennies for 38 years, but I worry about my ability to do the same.

At the end of it all, my father didn’t place a lot of value on material things, but he poured a lifetime of love into the story of those two pennies. I’ll have them made into a necklace that can always be close to my heart.

Okay, I just wrote up a few observations on Paranormal Activity elsewhere, so I'm going to post them here behind a cut. They aren't terribly spoilery on their own but if people want to discuss the movie itself, you might want to avoid clicking ( here. )

Another weekend has flown by ( too fast... )

Even if I'm kinda uninspired this year. I did carve a pumpkin & roast the seeds!



(Click through for more pictures.)

The "wilds" of D.C., that is. I've spent the past three days re-acquainting myself with how very much I hate and detest the city and its traffic. Hey, an hour and 45 minutes to get in in the morning? WOO!

I had a team of five people help me box, label, inventory, and move 314 boxes of old court records out of a building that is completely gutted prior to renovations. The truly exciting part is that the building lacked plumbing or an elevator! It's been a looooong couple of days.

And of course that meant I didn't get to check in with the Brez at the usual time. Let's see...

Pisces Horoscope for week of October 29, 2009

Pisces (February 19-March 20)
I hope you won't merely wander around the frontier. I hope you'll undertake a meticulous yet expansive exploration of that virgin territory. Here are some tips on how to proceed: 1. Formulate specific questions about what you're looking for. 2. Develop a hypothesis for the experiments you want to carry out. 3. Ignore what doesn't interest you and pounce only on what stirs your fascination. Halloween costume suggestion: an alien anthropologist visiting Earth from another planet; a time-traveler from the future who's doing a documentary on this historical moment; a religious pilgrim who's keeping a detailed journal.
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Sorry, Brez, all I got goin' tomorrow is the little set of horns. I've been low on time and motivation.
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Tonight I think I will carve a pumpkin! It's a little late, sure, but at least I can light it for a few nights. And now that I live on the 2nd floor, people can actually see it.

Everyone else (well, you know, a couple of people) is sharing their pie recipe, so if anyone wants to know the secret to great apple pie, ( it's... )

I had one! A nice weekend, that is. ( Allow me to tell you about it. )

Originally published at Examorata. You can comment here or there.

It’s been a little over a month since I lost Dad. The world is different, I am different, I am struggling, I am succeeding. Not writing all this time has been strange, but with the move to the new apartment and the fact that work is getting busier, it was easy to set it aside. Once the move was over I was faced with emptiness: “Now what?” I worried over Dad, then when the funeral was over and life had to pick back up I worried over the move – the move that he helped to orchestrate, that we worried and schemed over together. When I shut the door on my tiny old apartment, I cried. Even though he wasn’t in it much, it’s the last place I lived that my father ever got to see. On the one hand it’s nice to be in a new place where there isn’t a memory of him around every corner. On the other hand, it feels lonely and strange to have already moved to a place that has never had him in it. My mother’s house rings with the memories. My brother’s house is full of the joy of times spent there as a family.

I’m on my own in a new space. It’s a little scary here. I wish I could call my Dad sometimes. But I love it here too, the move felt right to me, and once I shut the door on the old place and had my little moment, I haven’t looked back to that place. It was small, and cramped, and I had outgrown it.

There’s going to be a lot I need to share, but there will also be times when I want to write about other things. There will be times I’ll be eloquent and times I’ll have no idea what to say. Even writing this little bit, though, reminds me why I need to write more.

I didn’t come to the blog right away with the news because I didn’t know how to write about it artfully. It turns out I don’t need to. I love you, Dad. The words will come.