A weapon of moth destruction
29 Jun 2011 2 Comments
in Berthoud Weekly Surveyor, Colorado, writing Tags: cats, Colorado, daydreams
My blogging habits are obviously sporadic, at best. When I heard yesterday that Charlie Sheen’s wages were being garnished for child support to the tune of $55,000 PER MONTH, I remembered that loser was still occupying top spot here at suzspetals. Oh, the humanity! I had to remedy the situation but haven’t strung two coherent sentences together in awhile soooo I’m posting a little bit of cuteness I wrote for the paper this week. Enjoy, and I promise to be back soon with relevant and witty repartee. Hopefully.
Reprinted from the Berthoud Weekly Surveyor
It’s a tough life for a house cat with natural hunting instincts. Just ask my little indoor tabby, Jazzy, who is relegated to watching the world through a double-paned window. She fancies herself a close relative of the lions that stalk and take down their prey on “Animal Planet,” while birds and butterflies mock her daydreams.
Fortunately for Jazzy, each summer Colorado is besieged with a scourge of small, feathery, disgusting miller moths. The ferocious feline is awakened.
The predictable annual migration gives cats’ lives everywhere new meaning. I try to be happy for mine as she launches herself into the air, trapping her feathered foe between her killer paws. Really, I do. I just wish she didn’t land so loudly… at three o’clock in the morning. And unlike her carnivore relatives, Jazz leaves the shredded carcasses on the floor for me to step on. Blech.
The good news is, according to Colorado State University Extension entomologists, that it’s predicted to be a short miller season this year, due to weather patterns. The bad news marks the return of Jazzy’s wistful window watching. Meanwhile, I’ll be busy sweeping up her spoils.
Next year, kitty. You’ll get ‘em next year.
My not-so-violent torpedo of truth
06 Apr 2011 1 Comment
in opinion, Reviews Tags: Charlie Sheen, economy, opinion
My humble opinion as printed in the Berthoud Weekly Surveyor-
My glass is always half full... until I refill that sucker.
I’m normally an upbeat, optimistic person, but recent world events have scratched and smudged my rose colored glasses. The horrific earthquake and tsunami in Japan broke my heart, and it’s true, the inevitable unrest and American involvement in Libya has rattled my equanimity, but I’m referring to the chilling event scheduled for April 28, 2011.
Charlie Sheen is coming to Denver.
Yes, the man who should have committed career suicide weeks ago with his very public gnashing of the hands that feed him, as well as a disturbing defense of his self-destructive behaviors and chemical abuses, is visiting the Mile High City. And to add injury to insult, he is actually profiting from his blatant disregard for sanity.
Sheen is not the only celebrity to crash and burn in the public eye, but he’s one of the few who brazenly flipped the bird to the industry who helped make him among the highest paid TV stars of our day. He was rightfully canned, but rather than beg stress and booze before crawling off to re-spin his image, he launched a twitter account and promptly set a Guinness world record for number of followers in the first day.
Really?!
Shortly thereafter, he plotted a tour of live shows around the country, including Denver. Admittedly, I have no idea what these shows involve – the preferred nostril with which to snort coke? Which “goddess” to sleep with on Tuesdays? – and I don’t wish to know. People who are watching this doomed train wreck of a man are apparently buying the tickets. His debut in Detroit this past weekend was less than “winning” – Sheen’s self-proclaimed status – and witless audience members had the gall to demand a refund.
Explain this to me, please.
Stay in your corner, you greedy, violent narcissist!
Explain to me why a man who sleeps with multiple women while his young children are in the home, and openly brags about said women, who extols the ability to function just fine while abusing drugs and alcohol, who haughtily demands a raise from the very people who wisely fired him – explain to me why this man is profiting from his bad behavior to the nth degree?
I must know.
Could it possibly be because we are the same country who bestows high ratings (translation: dollars) on such flagrant backstabbing, conniving and immature frivolity as Big Brother, Celebrity Apprentice, Real Housewives of Wherever and Bridezillas?
My ass may not be perched on a pious, self-righteous platform, yet it’s painfully easy to see how messed up things are when we’re willing to pay good money – hard-earned, recession-era money – to see a sad, miserable man promote his own inexorable demise.
Actor and writer Wil Wheaton suggests a more sane, logical alternative for that money: donate it to a battered women’s shelter. The wife Sheen choked while in a drunken rage (ironically, not far from Denver) would probably support that.
On a similar note, I find it interesting that Japan’s looting problem in the wake of the devastating natural disasters was minimal. The Japanese people are occupied with day-to-day survival concerns amidst flooding, radiation and destruction. They have exhibited respect for each other and for their fragile neighborhoods.
I find it bizarre and sad that people in our country will trash their own neighborhoods in reaction to a favorite sports teams’ loss/win.
So I repeat, explain this to me, please. How does the most successful, powerful, benevolent country in the world allow itself to be represented by such embarrassingly abominable behavior?
I suppose I should provide a disclaimer to the aforementioned rant. Charlie Sheen’s website reportedly states that a whole dollar from every ticket sold to his “show” will be donated to the Red Cross Japanese Earthquake Relief fund.
Awww.
Total cost of the ticket? Between $49.50 and $89.50. Stick that in your “violent torpedo of truth” and smoke it.
Can’t we all just get along?
08 Mar 2011 1 Comment
in Art and Culture, beet street Tags: conservation, CSU, science
Posted in conjunction with Beet StreetI admit I was a little intimidated by this month’s Science Cafe subject. There are a lot of big words in the synopsis and I had to take more than one breath just to say the title of Wednesday night’s program: Conservation Development Global Challenges Research Team. *whew*
Dr. Liba Pejchar
Fortunately, a conversation with Dr. Liba Pejchar, assistant professor at CSU, cleared the fog that threatened to ground all flights in and out of my right brain. I learned that the crux of her studies and teachings centers around conserving the environment, maintaining economical livelihood, and keeping all the neighbors happy.
Piece of cake, right?
If you have even a passing awareness of environmental news – nationally or globally – you’ll know this is a colossal challenge. One that Dr. Pejchar has been passionate about for the past five years. After receiving her PhD in environmental studies at the University of California Santa Cruz she completed a fellowship at Stanford University. She’s also participated in several field studies around the world, but it was in Hawaii where she began to work with ranchers as well as the native wildlife, seeking a win-win solution for all involved.
Biodiversity (one of those big words I tripped over) essentially refers to all life on earth: plants, animals, people. It can also concern a specific region, such as Northern Colorado. When there was an opening at CSU’s Department of Fish, Wildlife and Conservation Biology, it was a good fit for Pejchar’s research and she signed on two-and-a-half years ago.
The challenge of conservation development is to address the obvious environmental problems facing our region, while acknowledging the fiscal needs of private landowners.
It’s about “recognizing progress, while finding ways to harness it,” explained Dr. Pejchar. There’s also a social component. “Is this (development) good for creating communities and neighborhoods?”
In a perfect world, these seemingly opposing factors are equally respected and everyone is happy. It’s a challenge that transcends the politics of “green” — as in ecology and economy. Head on down to Avo’s this Wednesday at 5:30 where Dr. Pejchar will share her knowledge on this significant and timely topic, employing words of all sizes as well as photographs and maps.
What do you think – can we protect the planet and the pocketbook?
He’s a Magic Man
22 Feb 2011 1 Comment
in Art and Culture, beet street, Reviews, writing Tags: Art and Culture, Fort Collins, magic
I can already tell you, I have no idea.
When you describe someone as manipulative, it’s not usually a glowing compliment, however Dan Jaspersen’s ability to manipulate what you see and believe is not only a source of pride, it’s his livelihood. This month’s Art Cafe – Mentalist, Manipulator, Magician – is presented by the man, who also answers to Dan J.
Jaspersen taught himself to juggle – with one broken arm, no less – at an early age, then picked up a deck of cards in college, ultimately paying rent with his sleight of hand skills. After acquiring his degree in business communications, he was soon employed in Japan working in the field of international relations. But in his heart, he’s always been a performance artist, and less than two years ago his magic act became his regular gig.
“I design experiences for people,” he said, explaining his unique art form.
Unlike the glittery illusionists on television or children’s entertainers who pull rabbits out of hats, Dan has worked hard to create a new style from old school.
“What I love to do is go back into the really old books, tricks and ideas,” he said, adding that even science magazines from the 1950s provide inspiration.
Although Dan’s act is family friendly, he stresses that his primary audience is adult, setting him farther apart from the stereotype magician. His performance is classy, elegant and more thought-provoking, making him a popular draw for private parties, corporate events and education venues. His clientele includes everyone from Colorado State University, to the Rotary club, to Nonesuch Theater. The type of audience often determines what tricks he’ll pull out of his bag.
The Minnesota native now lives in Cheyenne with his family, but with wife Andi’s roots in Loveland, Dan is well-connected and sought out through the Wyoming and Northern Colorado region.
Dan Jaspersen’s program at Avo’s this Wednesday, Feb. 23, begins at 5:30 and he promises to combine some magic with a little behind-the-scenes look at the mentalist’s mindset.
Dan Jaspersen knows your card.
“I believe in magic, but I know better,” he said enigmatically. As a magician, he strives to reconcile the contradiction of magic and the laws of science. “It’s a tricky thing.”
He paraphrased his favorite magician, Banachek, saying, “I like to take five senses and make it appear there’s a sixth.” In fact, Dan admits to mixing psychology and sleight of hand, mining the secrets of mediums and charlatans from a bygone era.
Fortunately for us – his delighted marks – he uses his powers for good, not evil. Bring all of your available senses this week and enjoy Dan J., Magician@Play.
Death and Daffodils
17 Feb 2011 2 Comments
in Literature, writing Tags: fictional murder, humor, spring fever, writing
© Susan RichardsReprinted with permission by the Berthoud Weekly Surveyor
Carol knew without a doubt that she couldn’t leave the body lying in the mudroom all day. The kids would be home from school in a few hours and questions were bound to come up.
“Mom, why is our neighbor’s face all blue and do we have any of those mini Oreos left?”
It would be awkward, to say the least, so she knew she had to get the old guy out of the way sooner, rather than later. There were still three loads of laundry to finish, vegetables to chop for tonight’s stew, not to mention that stupid daffodil costume to finish for Willow’s kindergarten program.
If there was to be any finger pointing for the 180 lb. dead guy in the next room, it was five-year-old Willow’s fault. If only she was home to own up to her complicity, Carol could send her to a time out and put the responsibility of body disposal squarely on the girl’s petite shoulders.
Unfortunately for Carol, Willow was busy learning her ABCs, undoubtedly while wiping the contents of her nose on Paris Romero’s sweater. Her daughter was blithely unaware of the catastrophic course of events, all because she required a costume in the shape of a spring bloom.
Carol sighed loudly, trying to muster up some righteous self-pity for the situation. If she couldn’t blame her precocious youngster for the foul play, then she knew where the blame really settled.
On the old guy himself, of course.
His spectacularly poor timing did him in. Not Carol Royce, who was head of the neighborhood watch, co-chair of the local chapter of MADD, and author of three yet-to-be-published gluten-free cookbooks. It was all on him.
Him and the last untenable 48 hours.
Two days earlier, Carol woke to the delighted squeals of three ecstatic children. School had been canceled due to heavy snow, high winds, and an apparent unwillingness to educate during predictable, regional weather conditions.
Within two days the unholy trio had eaten everything in the house, traumatized the cat until it refused to come out from under the bed, and built a blanket fort that filled most of the house. With her husband Phil stuck in Saginaw until the storm cleared out, Carol was on her own with the snowbound brood. She also belatedly discovered that the liquor cabinet had not been replenished before the weather came in. The forecast was dire, and not just outdoors.
When the district announced school would be back in session today, Carol almost wept with joy. After more than an hour of shoveling and scraping, she got the car out and the monsters delivered 14 minutes early. It all went downhill from there.
Upon arriving home, Carol discovered that the overzealous city workers had plowed a four-foot wall in front of the same driveway she had just broke her back to clear. After re-digging an entry, she came inside to find the family dog had done his business on her bedroom rug as he was too cold or lazy to venture outside like other dogs.
Then as she brought an arm full of firewood to the den for the wood stove, she dropped a log on her foot, thus releasing such a torrent of expletives that the dog wisely retreated and tried to wipe up his own mess. Carol was 96% sure she would lose a toenail in spite of the recent coat of Maui Nights polish.
When she realized the wood stove wasn’t making a dent on the cold, Carol learned that the pilot light in the ancient furnace had gone out. Again. She completely split out the butt in her favorite yoga pants when bending over to light it. The noise of the seam popping was so loud the dog piddled again.
Once the furnace was working, the dog mess cleaned up and all 328 blankets and chairs were returned to their rightful place, Carol sat down with a cup of coffee spiked with cherry flavored cough syrup. It didn’t taste great but she imagined the pioneers would be proud of her resourcefulness and drank it anyway. She had just about found her long-lost sense of calm when the doorbell rang.
Carol was surprised to see their neighbor, Wally, bundled up on the stoop. The octogenarian was wearing a puffy blue coat that was last in fashion when Reagan was president and only his rheumy eyes peered out between the matching knit scarf and hat.
“Wally, what are you doing out in this weather? Come on in here,” she admonished, leading him into the mudroom. In a couple of hours it would be full of discarded coats, scarves and wet boots, no doubt left for her to pick up. She sighed dramatically, already dreading the onslaught of loud, messy beings that were still young enough to love this weather.
The weather that was reaching its bitter cold fingers through the door as Wally waddled in. She shut it behind him and watched him shake snow and slush onto the clean floor.
“What can I do for you?” she asked, feigning warmth she hadn’t felt since last September. His eyes twinkled as he pulled down the scarf.
“Well, I hate to bother you, but Maude and I are heading to Florida this weekend and I was wondering if you have any sunscreen I could borrow. My nose burns something awful at the beach.” He grinned his 84-year-old denture smile at her and waited expectantly.
“The beach. You’re going to the beach this weekend?”
He nodded enthusiastically.
Carol saw the bright yellow fabric still in her hand that would eventually be a colorful daffodil, then looked out at the blanket of white in the yard, the steel-gray slushy mess in the streets where the crews had plowed. She looked at her beach-bound neighbor and snapped.
Distantly, she heard herself screaming about blanket forts, dog pee and spring flowers as she grabbed the ends of his green woolen scarf and shook the old man. She was still going on about wasted toenail polish and pilot lights when his face turned several different shades of blue and his tongue peeked out between his perfect false teeth.
———
Later that afternoon Carol sat with another cup of coffee – this one spiked with something a little more appropriate than cough syrup – and stared out the window. The kids were watching TV, the costume was sewn and ready as her husband pulled his car easily into the driveway she had shoveled out three times.
Phil Royce waved at Wally’s wife who was walking their well-trained pooch as he unloaded his bags from the car. He and Maude exchanged a few words before he stomped into the now-empty mudroom.
After hugs, greetings and a warm kiss on Carol’s cheek, he asked if she was feeling all right.
“Yes, why?” Carol asked, trying to look away from the monochromatic yard.
“Mrs. Winter said her husband came over earlier to borrow a cup of sugar and you reacted oddly. He was worried you might not be feeling well.” Phil took a sip of his wife’s coffee and smiled appreciatively.
Carol finally pulled her eyes from the snowy blanket covering the hard, frozen earth, still weeks away from being soft enough to till and dig. Her daughter might be a bright yellow harbinger of spring, but there wouldn’t be any blossoms in the yard for a while. March was the snowiest month of the year and Carol doubted her sanity would survive it.
Three kids cooped up inside for two days, a couple of neurotic pets, a visit from old man Winter and an overactive imagination all came together in one afternoon.
She looked at her husband with a lazy smile and reclaimed her coffee.
“Oh, just a little case of spring fever, honey. I’ll be fine.”
The ugly truth about bridesmaid dresses
03 Feb 2011 2 Comments
in Uncategorized Tags: humor
Reprinted with permission from the Berthoud Weekly Surveyor
If you could see the entire dress (wedding #2) you'd understand why I was drinking. Photo courtesy of the Susan Richards Historical Society.
The history of the bridal party is a colorful one, with origins in the Anglo-Saxon era when a groom would abduct his bride from a nearby village. He’d enlist help, and this little army of kidnappers evolved into today’s groomsmen. The bride would have her own cadre of friends as well, but if the marriage was completed, they obviously weren’t of much help.
As punishment for the girlfriends’ ineffectiveness, the bride would insist they wear garments so hideous the groomsmen would have to look away, thus ensuring none of them were ever chosen for marriage.
All right, I might have embellished this historical fact just a little, but as a five-time also-ran, er… I mean bridesmaid, I consider myself a bit of an expert on the subject. There are all kinds of anecdotes on the origin of wedding gowns, rings, cake and more, but little has been written about the beleaguered women who assist the bride on her journey to the altar. Maids and matrons of honor and bridesmaids up the wazoo have stoically planned showers, soothed nerves and sup-ported brides throughout the years, only to be rewarded with frocks so bad there are websites dedicated to the phenomenon.
This is why it’s always a good idea for a bride-to-be to choose her closest friends and family to stand attendance at her wedding. Mere acquaintances will have a much harder time keeping a straight face when told that she can wear the dress again, it’s so pretty and practical. When my oldest friend (wedding #5) told me that my tea-length Jessica McClintock dress would definitely be worn again, I smiled and dreamed about all of the garden parties in Birmingham I’d no doubt be invited to.
The corner into which brides back themselves is often the number of bridesmaids chosen. Six or eight women are bound to possess six or eight body types and the most successful fashion designer in the world would be hard-pressed to find the perfect gown for each one. Such was the case with wedding #2 back in the early 1980s. The dress was so bad I didn’t even hide my reaction, but my friend waved me off and explained it was the only one that fit everyone, including her plus-size sisters.
I actually did wear that dress again. And again. The pink dotted-Swiss monstrosity with puffy sleeves and a crinoline-enhanced skirt made an excellent costume as Little Bo Peep, as well as a saloon girl when I volunteered at a mining camp festival for several summers. The first Halloween party was actually hosted by the newly wed couple so the look on her face was worth the cost of the dress.
According to my informal survey, mine wasn’t the only gown ripped out of a scene in “Gone with the Wind.”
“I wore one that was red satin — spectacular in every sense of the word. It had a deep cut back with a big bow at the butt and a princess neckline. I wore it the following Halloween as Scarlett O’Hara,” said a similarly punished bridesmaid.
The cocktail dress with separate floor-length skirt I wore in wedding #1 was the only one of all that I actually did wear again to social events. Sadly, the dress stayed in style longer than that particular marriage.
When considering the legend of the ugly bridesmaid dress, I have to question the bride’s motives. Is it so important to ensure being the center of attention that you’ll cover your best friends with fabric more suited for upholstery or colors not found in nature? One honest soul in my in-formal poll admitted she didn’t make the dress choice too bad, but definitely made sure they didn’t outshine hers.
Maybe it’s time for the soon-to-be-wed women of America to take another look at history. For many years, the attendants’ dresses were much like the bride’s own gown. This tradition was in-tended to confuse evil spirits or jealous suitors that might attempt to harm the newlyweds. Reviving this practice from days of yore would keep the happy couple safe and the bridesmaids happy. Win-win.
As long as I’m taking on tradition, I may as well pick a bone with the wedding industry itself. Is there a plausible reason – besides profit – why the guys can rent their tuxes and the women-in-waiting are required to drop a lot of cash on a dress, shoes and accessories to keep forever? The memories of the inevitable drama that arise when you throw several women and garish floral pat-terns together is enough. Must we also open our closet every day and be reminded of the fittings, the alterations, the expletives? I’m quite positive that we women can take better care of a rental dress than a half dozen overgrown frat boys can. Give us a try and you’ll see a happy, well-dressed bridal party.
This is what happens when hookers get hold of a cotton candy machine. Photo from uglydresses.com
In the interest of full disclosure, I am, as of today, always a bridesmaid – never a bride. However, I swear on a stack of Modern Bride magazines never to ask my dearest friend – just one, not six – to wear something I wouldn’t be caught dead in. I also promise not to utter the words “And you can wear it again!” unless I’m hosting a follow-up masquerade reception. Really, I do
Moving Write Along in ’11
27 Jan 2011 9 Comments
in The Family Business, Twilight, Uncategorized, writing Tags: resolutions, writing
Welcome to my New Year’s post for 2011! The next blog entry will be an in-depth look at procrastination and the havoc it wreaks on our society. In the meantime, simply pretend it’s not almost February and I’m not still mulling over edits to my 2009 New Year’s resolutions.
A bittersweet memory of the amazing space I once created. The hot chick on the right looks vaguely familiar. I think she used to drink all my wine.
In (belated) reflection, 2010 was a very transitional year for me – some good, some bad, all necessary. I closed my business in ‘09 and thought I had mourned its loss as briefly as possible, when in fact I had knit a cocoon the size of a doublewide trailer and
didn’t emerge for months. I had really tried to keep the momentum going and looked around for a new space, hosted an art show, made promises I couldn’t keep. I ignored how drained and demoralized I was until a few people and circumstances kicked my ass while I was already down. The cocoon was reinforced and a lovely therapist was enlisted to put up with my emo ass.
I was incredibly fortunate to already have a good part-time job while running my business, and my duties and hours at the newspaper expanded as I burrowed. My beautiful, smart, funny daughter also provided good reason to get up in the mornings. Then a funny thing happened early last year. My crazy community of Twitards migrated to Twitter and I gradually had new friends — friends who didn’t care what failures I was still bleeding over — friends who shared a glass of wine with me from six states away — friends who helped me give birth to my first novel. Priceless friends.
It’s too hard explaining fan fiction to someone who’s never heard of it, not to mention someone who thinks the craze over Twilight is incomprehensible (it is, actually, but after two-plus years, I’ve stopped worrying) so I’ll just direct you to their site if you’re not in the know. Long story short, I wrote a Twilight based story with an original premise called The Family Business. I finished it last November and I’m not going to spew false modesty: I’m really damn proud of it.
Writing that story was one of the best experiences of my creative life. It was a learning tool, a loving community project, an exercise in discipline and obligation, and most importantly, it was a catalyst for a new journey.
This new tease wooing my muse is the written word. The writer within me has flirted shamelessly throughout the years but I’ve studiously avoided considering it a serious suitor. Let’s face it, everyone thinks they can write and the statistics for being published are probably right up there with maintaining a profitable art gallery in the middle of a killer recession. *cough*
Besides The Family Business, I wrote a few other Twilight stories and came up with a half dozen interesting outlines for straight fiction. I returned to the novel I abandoned three years ago and am now approaching it differently, based on my experience. I’m writing more articles for the paper and I recently got a cool – albeit unpaid – blogging gig back in my former world of regional arts and culture.
I’ve since unraveled most of the cocoon and decided I’m still not strong or passionate enough to open another art gallery in the near future. That door isn’t locked but I’ve discovered that being responsible to my daughter and myself — emotionally, financially, and otherwise — is the best I can do right now.
Not the slippers I had in mind, but inexplicably inspiring. (Source: etsy)
Maybe a smart person would have licked their wounds, then went in search of a good secure position with 40 hours and benefits. Yeah, so I’m probably not smart, but I am creative. I write, I draw, I imagine, I tweet, I read YA fantasy, I revel in my kid and I most definitely do not color within the lines. I’ve unceremoniously tossed most of my resolutions in the dumpster and am focused on one: to someday soon work successfully and happily in my slippers. Cute slippers, without a hole in the toe like my current fugly ones.
Write on, 2011.
“Beautiful Darkness” illuminates
22 Nov 2010 6 Comments
in Beautiful Creatures, Literature, Reviews, Uncategorized
Reprinted with permission from the Berthoud Weekly SurveyorFirst, a few words… Being well past my teen years and having a daughter who isn’t there yet, *shudder* I really had no interest in the YA – or young adult – literature market. Then I drank that Twilight kool-aid and the rest is history. As a result of my – er – hobby, I’ve been exposed to several other popular books in this genre and recently had the opportunity to read the first half of the “Beautiful” series for my job. Poor me – reading for a living;)
A few years ago the term “YA” would have been lost on me, but I now know it’s the fast growing genre of books geared toward teenagers – or young adults as they prefer to be called. Now this market is populated with titles such as “Twilight” and “Hunger Games” which have blurred the lines of popularity, being read and loved by all ages.
Joining the supernatural YA party last year was the novel “Beautiful Creatures.” It was followed up a few weeks ago by the highly anticipated “Beautiful Darkness.” I read both to see what all the fuss was about and was beautifully enchanted.
The magical universe found in “Creatures” and “Darkness” was conjured by two good friends, Kami Garcia and Margaret Stohl. In the imaginary town of Gatlin, South Carolina, the biggest excitement revolves around Civil War reenactments and pie-baking contests. Sixteen-year-old Ethan Wate was biding his time at Jackson High until he could escape after graduation. The new arrival at the beginning of his sophomore year changes everything, including his perspective of the backward little southern town his family had called home for generations.
Lena Duchannes is like nothing Gatlin has ever seen. She’s beautiful and quirky, deeper and more complex than the belles who rule the school. She’s also been haunting Ethan’s dreams before they even meet. Once they do — and inevitably fall in love — he finds out Lena is a Caster, ensconced in a family of other Casters and mythical creatures. The word caster refers to spells, a good euphemism because no one wants to introduce their new girlfriend as a witch.
“Beautiful Creatures” guides the reader on Ethan and Lena’s journey into love, magic and danger as Lena approaches her penultimate sixteenth birthday. It is then that her fate as a Caster is decided – she could go Dark or Light and I don’t mean her hair color. Her fate is inexorably tied to those around her and “Creatures” leaves us with tragedy and more questions as Gatlin’s secrets are slowly revealed.
The sequel opens with Ethan fervently hoping the changes in Lena’s mystical world won’t affect their strong, yet complicated bond, but of course there wouldn’t be a very long book without conflict and more danger.
Ethan’s hometown turns out to be even more cloaked in secrets than he could have imagined. People he’s known all his life have dimensions he must accept no matter how contrary they are to his long held perceptions. Even without the element of magic, this is something that teenagers struggle with every day. It’s always a shock to find out there is a person behind the name Mom or Dad – a person with loves, losses, secrets – a person with history.
The mother lost to Ethan before the series takes place is that person for him, and revelations about her and others in his family rock Ethan’s world as he fights to save Lena from herself.
The “Beautiful” series wins my praise for several reasons, one of the biggest being that it never talks down to its audience. Ethan is smart and so are many of the characters in his world, but there is nothing geeky or awkward about his intelligence. He accepts that there are bigger, better things waiting outside of Gatlin for him without a sense of arrogance.
Also, I was surprised to discover the stories – written by two women – were almost exclusively from Ethan’s perspective. They infused his voice with telltale male references without falling to stereotypes, thus making him believable and immensely likable.
One of the most interesting characters is Gatlin, the town itself. Although both authors now reside in California, there is a love of the south woven through the words of both books. Sometimes it mocks and teases, but with an underlying affection that makes me want to try fried green tomatoes.
“Beautiful Darkness” ties up some loose ends while unraveling many more. Fortunately there are two more books in the series which will publish over the next two years. There are some dark themes and violence in the books that may be too strong for sensitive, younger readers, but none of it is graphic or gratuitous. I recommend it for that coveted YA demographic as well as adults who like a good southern romance without the bodice ripping.
Besides creating a magical place with fascinating people, these books are extremely well written — never talking over or under the reader’s head. Start with “Beautiful Creatures” and you’ll soon want to add some magic to your shelf with “Beautiful Darkness.”
“Eclipse” brings the goods
10 Jul 2010 1 Comment
in Reviews, Twilight, Uncategorized
And by ‘goods’ I mean much more Edward than we saw in “New Moon”
by SuzsPetals(Reprinted in part from The Berthoud Weekly Surveyor)
Robert Pattions stars in "The Twilight Saga: Eclipse" as Edward Cullen. Oh. And there are some other people in the movie too, as well as bad wigs. (Photo courtesy of RottenTomatoes.com)
It was the day before the midnight premiere of “The Twilight Sage: Eclipse” and like a good little fan, I had my tickets purchased and picked up. But when I went online and saw that the theater was up to six sold-out screens, I had to stop and wonder, “Am I too old for this shit?!”
Fortunately, my inner 16-year-old spoke up and assured me all was well with the continuing saga of my mid-life crisis. I more or less came out of the Twi-closet with my review of “New Moon,” the second installment of the wildly popular series of movies adapted from the wildly popular series of books by Stephenie Meyer.
June 29 was a similar scene to the last time my friends and I braved the midnight showing, but the crowd was even more diverse — all ages and both sexes were well represented. We also got similarly crappy seats because we preferred to have drinks across the street, rather than stand in line for an hour. See – being old has advantages over my inner teenager.
It’s a given that you don’t get to really enjoy the whole movie with an enthusiastic, opening night crowd. I shared the theater with a surprising majority of Team Jacob fans. Teenage girls around me were channeling horny construction workers, cat-calling and hooting each time Taylor Lautner appeared onscreen sans shirt. A second — probably third — viewing would be required to thoughtfully review this film.
Before even opening to the masses, “Eclipse” had been touted as the best of the series by critics and those who had been lucky enough to pre-screen. By using a different director for each film, Summit Entertainment has ensured they all have a different look, so I’m going to go on the record and plead apples and oranges. I adore Chris Weitz, I loved “New Moon” and I refuse to denigrate either.
That said, I give huge props to “Eclipse” director David Slade, and possibly chow down on a little crow. Slade helmed another vampire flick, “30 Days of Night,” and I was terrified after viewing it. Not of the movie itself, although it was dark, suspenseful and very gory, but that raised my fears of what kind of vision he would bring to the sparkly ones.
Yes, in case you weren’t aware, Twilight vampires sparkle in the sun. They also don’t have fangs or sleep in coffins. The main character — as well as his family — also doesn’t drink human blood, making him much easier for heroine Bella Swan to fall head over heels in love with. Her relationship with Edward, the gorgeous teenage vampire, has matured by “Eclipse” as they affectionately bicker about his reluctance to turn her into an immortal. Arguing his case for her prolonged humanity is Bella’s best friend — and werewolf — Jacob.
If a love triangle among mythical creatures wasn’t enough for a girl to deal with, an army of evil vampires is being created for the sole purpose of eliminating her from the population. Oh, and she’s about to graduate high school and we all remember how stressful that can be. (Or maybe that was just me and my inability to pass Advanced Yarn & Needle Arts.)
All of this potential conflict is probably the reason it’s the book in the series favored by most fans, and the movie promotes lots of action “for the guys” in hopes of broadening its audience. It definitely delivered in that arena. The battle scenes were exciting led by a much more animated Jackson Rathbone as Jasper.
I, however, preferred the more personal conflict in the story. The three main actors — Robert Pattinson, Kristen Stewart and Taylor Lautner — have been together since the beginning of the saga, and their chemistry is probably the driving force behind its success. They play off each other so well that the relationships are as comfortable as the stories are to loyal Twilight fans.
I probably confessed this before, but I’m a hopeless romantic. Edward’s unwavering devotion to Bella — even when she inexplicably considers a life with her best friend, the mutt — never fails to elicit wistful sighs throughout the movie. Did I mention I’m Team Edward?
As much as I loved “Eclipse” there were, of course, a few things with which I took issue. First of all, these movies now boast huge budgets. Why are the wigs so hideous? Why are there wigs at all? Aren’t these actors paid enough to endure a little time in the chair for dye jobs or extensions? Just a thought, Summit.
Luckily for the fans, the cast has stayed almost completely intact since the first movie, so there was quite the uproar when the character of Victoria (Bella-hating, vengeful vamp) was recast for “Eclipse” with Bryce Dallas Howard. I like Howard fine, but I have to band with the die-hard Rachelle LeFevre fans and agree that the role should have stayed hers. She brought a feral intensity to “New Moon” that would have the made the final showdown with Edward all the better.
I had a whole paragraph planned here about how Robert Pattinson has fully realized the character of Edward and his scenes were nuanced with emotion and depth, whether sharing a tender moment with Stewart or angry confrontation with Lautner. Let’s just say there are a slew of other people milling about for two hours and then there’s Rob. (Insert inner 16-year-old fangirl sigh here.)
Now for the bad news for Saga fans — and let’s face it, the movies are made for the fans — the final installment “Breaking Dawn” won’t start filming until this fall and won’t release until November, 2011. Part one, that is, since the decision’s also been made to split the book into two films, ala “Harry Potter.” I disagree with this, but producers failed to ask my opinion.
What does this mean for this zealous, middle-aged fan? It means I have another two years, minimum, to blithely ignore the mocking and ribbing from friends, family and co-workers. And to watch the DVDs a lot.
“The Twilight Saga: Eclipse” is rated PG-13 for some violence, mild language and lots of smooches.
Becoming a mother is like…
04 May 2010 6 Comments
Becoming a mother is like painting a pi
cture with my eyes closed.
I’d be lying if I didn’t admit to subtle influences from the ego when I decided to become a mother almost ten years ago. I’m sure many parents share that secret and cliché dream of molding an unborn child into an interesting little reflection of ourselves. Yes, I would take my future daughter to art museums, read to her each night, thereby nurturing her love of books, and impart every silly and wise thing I’d learned in forty-plus years.
Then came the day I received my beautiful little canvas. Already ten-months-old, she had a vivid base coat with daubs of color and character. Hey, I could work with that — I had brushes, paints — tools passed to me by books, other mothers, my mother.
In reverence for this chubby, beautiful gift, I closed my eyes and lifted my brush. And as a mother I discovered what I already knew as an artist: The most spectacular works of art paint themselves.
Happy Mother’s Day to all the get born moms out there. For amazing insights on becoming a mother and really cool give-aways, visit www.getbornmag.com this week.
