Living Doll

Here's one thing that I noticed about Branson - and I probably noticed more, given that Halloween is on the way - have you ever seen those horror movies where the dolls comes to life? Usually possessed by a demon and looking to reak havoc, start fires and drive somebody the kind of insane where they hang themselves from the chandelier with a note pinned to their chest that says "the eyes the eyes the eyes". If that ever happened, Branson would be seriously screwed.

I have never seen so many porcelain dolls in my entire life. Rows and rows of them in all the shops. Victorian ones with the curlicue hair. Country girls with Branson aprons. Realistic ones that look like crying babies. Indian princesses. Fairies. You name it, Branson has it. I'm not sure how something can be kind of pretty and really, really effed up at the same time. And, of course, lots of the little girls LOVED them. They'd just stand and stare at them, with nearly the same blank expression as the dolls. But a lot of mature women were just as glassy eyed over them.

Of course, I had an Aunt Freda (actually a great-great aunt), who just loved those things. She had them all over her house. She even kept her dishes in the dishwasher so that she could display them in the glass-front kitchen cabinets. And she'd make vignettes with them at little doll parties. I shouldn't complain though. The way heredity works in my family, I could have a latent doll gene, and wake up one day and just drive to Branson and buy one of everything. But even if I do, I'm locking them in the closet on Halloween.

Turns out it actually IS good for your heart

http://news.yahoo.com/s/livescience/20081023/sc_livescience/thestinkinfartscontrolsbloodpressure;_ylt=AryMkkBfE5pg7dAKgFBB5D8PLBIF

So eat beans at every meal!

Home again

Whewh. Branson. What a trip. Some observations:

• From the timeshare room we stayed in: a full length mirror in the shower? Not cool. Especially not at 7 in the morning.
• Also, a full length mirror next to the toilet: see above. It lacks a certain dignity. What’s with these people and mirrors?
• A hamburger, onion rings and a fried pie at Billy Bob’s Dairyland is what the angels order when they want take-out.
• Yakov Smirnov does a damn funny show. Got to sit in the front row. And shake Yakov’s hand. Try not to feel too envious of me. Some of us are just lucky that way.
• Speaking of which – here’s a handy little tip: Don’t wear a necklace with the word “lucky” on it at Silver Dollar City unless you want that to be your nickname for the rest of the day. “Hey! It’s Lucky!” Who? Oh, me.
• Took the Ghost Tour in old town Branson, which was too much fun. They guaranteed a picture with something spectral. I got nothing. It was fun anyway. It was a great way to get some of the history of the town, and our guide had all the juicy stories from the wild days in Branson. And though I got bupkiss in the way of spooky pictures, this one sort of gothy girl came up next to me and said, “Ohmygod, look at this picture I got of you! It’s so freaky!” She showed me her digital camera that had a really nice screen that she could enlarge the picture on. She had a picture of me under the “hanging tree” with a giant orb over my head. How TAPS is that? I told her it was probably just one of my wilder ancestors who got hung there coming over to say “What up?”
• We stopped in Eureka Springs, AR on the way home. What a cool little town. I like any place that has 4 coffee shops within a mile of each other, and none of them are Starbucks. It’s one of those towns where it’s 1/3 artists, 1/3 bikers and 1/3 tourists. Great vibe. Lot’s of excellent arts and crafts stores to visit.
  

So, that’s the quick and dirty travel report. I’ll see if I can get a few pics downloaded to share.

You're going WHERE??

Well, this may be the last post until next week or so. I’m headed off for a trip with my parents to . . . gasp . . . Branson. I know. Ye gods. Though I loves me some Dolly Parton and I have a soft spot for classic country novelty tunes (Painted Flowers on the Wall, Harper Valley PTA, King of the Road, Convoy), most country music, and especially bluegrass, makes me want to slap myself in the head repeatedly with a large catfish. And I have only a very limited tolerance for the nativity scene with the baby Jesus wrapped in the American flag aesthetic that Branson specializes in. And it’s flipping cold right now in the Ozarks. Cheese Whiz. What was I thinking? I’m headed for the hillbilly mother ship.

Well, what I was thinking was that I’d get to spend some quality time with my folks. And they LOVE the Branson. They’ve got a time share just outside town and season passes to Silver Dollar City. The whole shmear. As my sister points out, this is the chance to get to be the “only child”. Which is pretty much the Holy Grail for kids with multiple siblings. I don’t have to share my Mommy and Daddy with snotty-nosed siblings for a whole week. Regardless of the fact that my sibs haven’t been snotty-nosed brats in a long time. At least 2 or 3 years (har har, hi, Sis!). But just kickin’ it old school with the folks does sound kind of nice.

To prepare myself for the trip, I’m getting my little busy bag (hey, they aren't only for 5-year olds) ready for the car: books, yarn project, cross-word puzzles. And my iPod. Given that my parents will be listening to “Classic Bluegrass” all the way to Missouri (because they think that some of those new bluegrass musicians just go too far), I’m going to have my earphones jammed so far in my ears, they’ll be touching my brain. And I’ve told my folks that I can amuse myself while they go to It’s Only Make Believe: The Conway Twitty Musical (I swear I did not make that up). The only show I’m at all interested in is Yakov Smirnov. If I’m going to Branson, I’m going to darned well see Yakov.

So, as usual, I’ll take lots of mental notes, and if I can remember my camera for once, a few pictures. If I don’t get to talk to you, hope y’all have a great week.

Reading Rainbow

Today is one of those days where, quite unfairly, resent being at work. It's not work's fault that it pales in comparison to what I'd rather be doing. Which is finishing the first book of the Orphan's Tales by Catherynne Valente. Oh, mygodsogood. You know when something is so good that your brain just stalls for just a second? That good.

The story is this interlocking series of stories (folk stories, fairy tales, sagas?) that chain out, then loop, then forge out into a new direction, that once you turn a bend you find is not as new as you first think. I finsished the first part of the book, thinking "damn, the second part can't be this good." And I was wrong. There was a moment this morning as the train pulled near my stop, when something happened in the story and my eyes glazed over and I couldn't form a coherent thought. Then I nearly screamed because in about 15 seconds I was going to have to close the book. Damn real life and all of its inconveniences.