vickeymalonekennedy.com Blog

It’s not even two in the morning here and my eyelids are getting heavy, I’m getting very sleepy, and there isn’t even a watch dangling in front of my face. Guess I’m getting old, or drunk. After all I am sitting on the patio, drinking wine spritzers, reading a book I’m about to review, and working on my blog. Told you I was into multi-tasking.

It’s one of those wonderful nights. Not too cool, not too hot. Just right for backyard lounging. When I had a hammock, I would sleep outside sometimes. Especially in the day time. I work at night and sleep during the day time. Keeping to a semi-routine schedule I stay up at night on my nights off and sleep during the day. Except nights like tonight, when the weather is just right, for napping in the yard.

A cool soothing breeze flutters through my pseudo-jungle yard lulling me to sleep with a leaf twittering, tree frog, humming lullaby. Reminds me of growing up on a farm in Tennessee. Back then I loved sleeping outside. Day or night.

We went camping a lot when I was a kid. A girl scout from kindergarten to teens primmed me to be a great outdoors woman. But a fair Irish complexion and natural laziness keeps me inside when the suns out.

Let’s face it, I’m not a day walker. I’m a night person. A night stalker. A night worker. A night owl.

So sleep at two in the morning is a rare thing for me. Not exactly what I want to do with my night off. I’d rather sit here listening to the crickets and frogs.

I can’t see a star to gaze, or wish, upon. There’s a hint of rain in the air. I can almost smell it. Like the Mississippi river during a dry summer. That dusty wet smell that I can actually taste. It’s a sweet fragrance that the citronella torches can’t repel.

There.

That’s it. An explanation for my sudden onslaught of drowsiness. The sounds, smells, and taste of home. Of childhood. Of the river. Of Tennessee. Like a dream world created especially for me.

Time to say goodnight . . .

Dion Ian, and I went to see ‘Nacho Libre’ Saturday. Don’t waste your time and money to see the movie until it hits the dollar movie, or better yet cable. Jack Black has a few cute moments but for the most part the movie pretty much sucked the big one. No pun intended.

My sister was in town this weekend. We had the opportunity to hear and meet a really great band. Unintentionally competing with Jazz in June at the park, Daylight Strategy, played to an energetic Borders crowd. Usually a four piece group: Guitarist Doug Hurt and Ben Allred, Percussions Dempsey Kraft, and Keyboards Kiah Dority, the guys boasted that they played better, and certainly looked better, when Kiah was able to join them. She didn’t make it Saturday night.

All the members of the band are Christians and their goal is to produce uplifting music with a message of hope. But they don’t play strictly Christian music. They rock-n-roll to the beat of a, Djembe, a traditional African drum, giving them a modern, popular, secular sound without compromising their religious values.

They’ll be back at Borders in Norman on July 8, 2006. If you’re interested in more info about the band see their website www.daylightstrategy.com

Just finished the ‘Wanton Werewolf Series’ by Carys Weldon.

If you like werewolves, erotica, or just damn good story telling, you should read this series.

Go to www.carysweldon.com for more info about Carys and her work.

Just started working on a new short story.

I’ve gotten into e-books and e-zines lately. They’re a great market.

Gotta get back to work. Just wanted to say hi. More later.

vck

Over the last few months I’ve been having these ‘spells’. There is no other way to describe them. Vapors. Not exactly. Although I have swooned a few times, and not in an erotic way either.

These ‘spells’ start out as headaches. Headaches turn into “my God my skull is going to explode,” pain. Then comes the nausea, vomiting, and not being able to stand up. Soon followed by passing out, or pretty damn close to it.

Although, I had one sudden onset, no warning, world spinning and everything going black episode, the other day at the movies. It only lasted for a few seconds. But it was a little disorienting and frightening.

At least twice I thought I was having a stroke. The first time was at work. They sent me to the ER. A cat-scan of my head showed absolutely nothing. Stop laughing. Not nothing in there, just nothing obviously wrong with what was in there.

The EKG was normal. My blood sugar was fine. Lab work okay. In fact the only thing that seemed out of whack was my blood pressure was a little high. Not stroke level high. Just a little high. And of course I am fat.

The second time, was Saturday night. I threw up on my daughter. Every time I stood up, I threw up. I thought I was going to die.

Finally I took two Darvocet, went to bed, and woke up in the middle of the night feeling fine. Actually I feel fine between ‘spells’. Fine for me, that is. My knees always ache, my neck always hurts, and I do have a history of migraines. The ‘spells’ are like migraines on steroids.

There’s a part of me that wants to write the ‘spells’ off as stress. Trust me I have plenty of stress in my life.

Like tonight for instance. I woke up around eleven P.M. to a dark house. I like the house dark when I’m sleeping. But it usually means that no one else is at home.

Myriah should have been home around ten-fifteen. Ian was playing ball, somewhere, but he was with his dad, so I didn’t really worry much about his whereabouts.

I went into panic mode because Myriah wasn’t home.

For those of you who don’t know my history; my oldest daughter, Mayree, was killed in a freak accident, on her way home from work, when she was seventeen. She died, October 10, 1992, two months before her eighteenth birthday.

Myriah will be eighteen, October 14, 2006.

That means that this year my younger daughter, who is thirteen years younger than my older daughter, is the same age now as my older daughter was when she died, thirteen years ago.

I’m not superstitious. But that 13 is blaring me in the face. Which doesn’t hurt at the moment, but is attached to the head that has been exploding in random intervals for the last few months.

Stess? Vapors? Spells? Abnormal obsession with death?

Who knows?

The truth is, I am amazed every day that I’m not in a little padded cell somewhere banging my aching head against a padded wall. Which would explain the aching head. Maybe I’m more delusional than I think.

The last few weeks have been busy. First cleaning house to get ready for Myriah’s graduation. Then all the company and the graduation. Followed almost immediately by a trip to Arkansas. A long trip home, then working three nights in a row. Seldom do I work three nights in a row. I am lazy by nature.

Wednesday night was the night from hell. But Thurs & Friday weren’t too bad. Still I’m ready for a few very large drinks. I invited the girls from work over for Mimosas this morning, but most of them have to work tonight, or drive too far, so they took a rain check.

Doesn’t matter. I’ve no qualms about drinking alone. As I have said many times, “I am not an alcoholic, I’m Irish!”

But I do hate to waste a perfectly good bottle of sparkling wine. So Diet Coke it is, for now, and booze later this afternoon when my entourage arrives. May even wait til tomorrow. There’s a possibility that Jennifer will stop by here on her way home from Amarillo.

Nap now. Drink later.

Sweet dreams to all, and to those of you not going to bed at 9:30 A.M., top of the morning to you,

vck

Ian came home scalped. He got a burr. I can’t believe he let someone cut off all those beautiful curls. He had such beautiful hair. I cried.

He also has a really big bruise on his swollen face. He got hit in the face with a baseball. AGAIN. I keep telling him to keep the glove in front of his face where it belongs. He’s supposed to catch those balls with the glove not his face.

Sports hurt.

Somehow Dion convinced me to see “The Omen”. I’m not into scarey slasher movies. But it wasn’t too bad.

I hate being a sissy girl. But I am. I spent most of the movie hugging my knees, squealing, actually screaming, and hiding my eyes.

D laughed. She said it wasn’t the least bit frightening. I’m not going to be able to sleep for a week.

vck

Most days I’d pay to watch Hugh Jackman sleep for two and a half hours. Especially if he is wearing nothing but a smile. But as much as I enjoy looking at Hugh’s bare chest that is how much I disliked X-Men, The Last Stand.

It was an excruciating disappointment. The plot was extraordinarily bland, the characters were extremely flat, and the special effects were exceptionally trite.

It’s a good thing this was the “LAST” X-Men movie. Even Hugh might not be enough to entice me to sit through another one. There was something missing from this X-Men. That special spark, and sense of humor that made the first two movies worth the big bucks, has disappeared. Leaving X-Men our ex-favorite series. Oh well, there’s always the comics.

later,

vck

We made it home, safe and sound, from the Arkansas Writer’s Conference. I took the computer and tried to keep up with my email, but didn’t really have time to blog.

I won the Grand Prize. I was so excited. Especially, because it was the only thing I won all weekend, and it was the last award of the weekend. So I was sitting there in tears, depressed because I thought I was going home empty handed, convinced people in Arkansas just don’t like science fiction, when they finally called my name. I know I screamed and Dion and Jennifer said I ran to collect my award. It certainly was a rush.

Jennifer won tons of stuff. So much I lost track. Dion won a really cool on the spot poetry contest. They gave us very explicit instructions and one day to complete a poem with more limits than any of us are accustomed to following. And by gosh if Miss D didn’t walk away the sole winner. With a cash prize we were not anticipating.

Russ, Ann, and Frances won a prize or two themselves. They weren’t there, so I picked up their winnings. It was a nice conference. Much slower paced and much less crowded than the OWFI conference. It made for a little more intimate affair. D enjoyed the intimacy. I prefer the hustle and bustle, mingle and jingle of the bigger, louder, bawdier, gaudier crowd myself. Perhaps because I’m louder. Anyway we had a great time.

We played the tourist card and did a little sight seeing before we left Little Rock. Found the most amazing little catfish joint. The Flying Fish in the River Market, 511 President Clinton Ave. I highly recommend it to anyone that’s planning a trip to Little Rock.

More on the Flying Fish and other Arkansas adventures later. I gotta scoot. D and I are finally going to go see the X Men. I love Hugh Jackman.

Later dudes,

vck

D and I had a wonderful trip to Arkansas.  It was a beautiful day with only a brief light mist.  We enjoyed the trip so much it didn’t seem to take long at all.

After checking into the hotel, and checking to see if Jennifer had checked in yet, we ran to the local Wally World for a few necessities; flip-flops and root beer.

Then off to P. F. Chang’s China Bistro for dinner.  Oh, my, gosh!  The food was great.  The drinks were great.  The service was great.  We may make the trip out here once a month just for dinner. 

Of course now we’re laying around the room, stuffed to the giletts, burpin’ and fartin’, and Dion is snoring.  I can’t breath, even with my jeans unbuttoned and my bra tossed on the foot of the bed.

The left overs are sitting on the bedside table filling the room with that wonderful oriental aroma making me wish I had room for just one more bite.  But the smell alone is about to make be pop at the seams.  Unfortunately I can’t sleep on a full stomach.  Got a little reflux thing going on.  So I’m bloggin’ while D is dreamin’  and we are both anxiously awaiting the opening ceremonies of the Arkansas Writer’s Conference bright and early manana.

 Hope to see yall there.  We’re in room 235 and we brought plenty of wine.  Join us for drinks, and dumb blonde jokes (I’m the only blonde in our group), and down right fun.  We never sleep.  Well I don’t.  D is already.

later,

vck