Saturday morning coffee

This time last week we were waking up at the farm and drinking coffee around the fire in a light morning rain.

This morning I'm sitting with my youngest daughter, drinking coffee and listening to the rain fall against the windows. We're inside, dry and warm. Yesterday was the last day of school, and we're looking forward to summer. If it ever gets here.

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Who says colonoscopies can't be a source of humor? My mom, bless her heart, had to go through the indignity of a colonoscopy yesterday. She's 79 years old and is proud of the fact that she's in good health and doesn't have to take a lot of prescription drugs or spend a lot of time in doctor's offices. She was born and raised in Ashland, Kentucky, and has a charming accent that hasn't been erased by 45 years of living above the Mason Dixon Line. I was talking with her on the drive home from the gastroenterology clinic, and she got kind of solemn talking about the swift and strong effects of the anesthesia:

"I wonder if that's what dying will be like. One moment you're here, and you're talking with people, and then the next moment there's just nothing. You're just gone, no dreams or anything. Then all of a sudden I woke up and everyone was telling me I had to fart."

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"Do you think this will look okay?"

Those words were spoken to me by our eldest as she prepared for a movie shoot that's underway as I type this. She was putting her stuff together last night and had prepared a batch of fake blood:

"I think it's kind of 70's looking. It's not my best, but it's mostly for some splatter effects so it should be fine. That's why it's so thin. Thanks for taking a look at it for me. It helps having a cop for a dad."

I always knew this job would be good for something.

Video from Fangoria

This is a cool little video from the Fangoria Spooksmodel contest. Nora is around 16 seconds in with gore bubbling from her chest. Sweet.

Overheard at the compound

"...Oh well. Gotta go back to work on my corpse."

-Our eldest, to no one in particular after we finished dinner, on a special effect she's getting ready for a movie shoot tomorrow.

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You can visit the website of the production she's working on by clicking on this here link: Massive Ego Productions. The working title is The Landlord, and our daughter is working as a makeup artist, assistant special effects makeup artist, and production assistant. She also has a bit part as a junkie who gets killed by a vampire.

She comes by it natural.

Years ago, when she was about 5, I was sacked out on the couch watching football, when I heard that tone of voice that causes any parent to sit bolt upright and wonder oh-my-God-what's-wrong? "Daddy...daaaaaad..." Just as I sat up on the couch, she came into the living room, terrified look in her eyes, her right hand held upright in front of her at eye level. Her left hand clutched her right forearm. "Daaaaaaad..."

It was then I noticed the long crimson streak of blood running down her forearm, her left hand apparently applying compression to stanch the flow of blood. Right about the moment I cleared the couch and came leaping over to her, she dropped her hand, broke out in a broad grin and began laughing. I stood there, stunned, and then I laughed with her.

I had bought her her fist tube of fake "vampire blood" about a week earlier. No mere impulsive prank, she had planned this out.

We are very proud of her.

Of course, I'd like to think she's learned a thing or two from her old man, amateurish as my efforts are compared to hers:



It's never far from Halloween around here.

PS: For a nominal fee, she'd be happy to make you up a slit throat prosthetic kit or help make you up gruesome for Halloween.

Friday night at the compound

While MizBubs and I were out at the California Clipper tonight, our beautiful and talented eldest was busy working on a new effect. She sent us this photo to show us what a good job she'd done:



I hope she uses her powers for good. Lord only knows how I'll respond if she springs something like this on me as a surprise after a night of drinking.