The Anne Frank Game

I spent a lot of time at my grandparents' house as a child.  We lived with them for nearly a year when I was four.

At some point, my grandmother told me the story of Anne Frank, minus the part where they all get caught and sent to concentration camps. 

I became deeply fascinated by Anne Frank, and Meemaw invented a game in which I was Anne Frank and she was some other, less glamorous member of the family.  We'd sneak upstairs and try to be as still and quiet as possible.

Inevitably, Meemaw's role in the game would require that she go downstairs to fend off some Nazis or stage a rendezvous with the German neighbor who smuggled us our groceries.

Meanwhile, I stuck to my post in the secret annex, thinking how nice Meemaw was to play the lesser role that involved going downstairs to the boring part of the house.

Eventually, Meemaw would return from the perilous outside world with a snack she'd scavenged.

The Nazis always lost the war just in time for Rugrats, or dinner, or both.

When I think of the Anne Frank game now, I am in awe of my grandmother's ingenious ploy to keep me out of trouble for hours at a time and simultaneously teach me about World War II.

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Cat Ponderings

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Zombie Bob Kidnaps Muse

I recently let you guys know that Zombie Bob decided to take a vacation.  Upon hearing this news, MOV was quick to remind me that her friend, Muse, had also recently gone AWOL and needed to be bailed out of jail before disappearing again. 

At first, I thought it was just a humorous coincidence.  So imagine my surprise when they both turned up at my doorstep this morning.

Sorry, MOV.  I tried my best.  But on the bright side, at least Zombie Bob didn't eat her brains!

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Zombie Bob Takes a Vacation

I haven't had any good Zombie Bob ideas in a while.  I like to think he's just been on vacation, lounging somewhere and sipping brain cocktails.

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It's Like I Just Gave Birth with My Brain

I didn't blog at all during April.  I'm sorry.  I thought I could do Script Frenzy and work two jobs and blog for a month, but I was wrong.  So very, very wrong. 

For the record, Script Frenzy is a writing challenge, the goal being to write 100 pages in the month of April. 

But if it's any consolation, I won Script Frenzy, and now I fully intend to start blogging regularly again!

I've discovered that when I tell someone I've won Script Frenzy, but they don't actually know what Script Frenzy is, they think I've won $1,000,000 or something, and then I feel bad for getting their hopes up.

People also tend to assume I wrote a movie.  Hubs did write a movie for Script Frenzy (which is awesome, and I'm not just saying that because he's my husband--it has a cat assassin, you guys), but I wrote a script for a graphic novel, which is really a lot like this blog, except instead of incorporating the illustrations, you make a detailed note where you want each one to be.  As a result, I now have hundreds of illustrations to go back and draw, which I plan to do very, very gradually.

Frankly, knowing that something that was just a vague idea floating around in my head for the past several months is now an actual rough draft, I really do feel like I won something.  My ideas have been made solid.  I could even print them out if I wanted!  But I won't because that would be a lot of paper and ink. 

If you're wondering what I wrote about, imagine more stories like Meemaw and the Rocks, interlaced with other random stories from my childhood.  I already have a few picked out that seem like they'd be able to stand alone as blog posts, so as I illustrate them, you'll be seeing them here!  Yay!

It's good to be back.  I really missed talking to you, big anonymous Internet vacuum!

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Meemaw and the Rocks

In July 2006, I took a train trip to Glacier National Park with my mother and my grandmother.  I'd like to start telling you a series of stories about this trip.  I'll start with the only one for which I was not present, as I had acquired an epic sunburn on my face the day before.  Every time my face gets sunburned, my lips swell to twice their normal size and I lose my already-minimal desire for human contact.

While I wallowed at the hotel room, Mom and Meemaw drove to the south side of the park and hiked to Running Eagle Falls.  It was an easy-to-moderate trail, and Meemaw has always been in excellent shape.

So imagine Mom's surprise, and concern, when Meemaw started lagging behind and appearing short of breath.

Although Meemaw insisted vehemently that she was fine, Mom thought the problem might be that her backpack was too heavy, so she offered (several times) to carry it for her.  Each time, her offer was rebuffed with increasing zeal.

They kept hiking.

Exasperated, Mom finally wrested the backpack from Meemaw.

 

She was shocked to discover that it weighed at least ten pounds.

Rocks.

It was full of rocks.

Rocks that Meemaw wanted to take home to Alabama as souvenirs of our trip.

I don't remember what they did with the rocks, but since taking specimens from national parks is illegal, and even if it weren't, there was a weight limit on our train luggage, I'm pretty sure Meemaw was forced to abandon her cargo.

Before you start feeling too sorry for Meemaw, though, I should tell you she already has an extensive collection of rocks from places she's traveled over the years.  A lot of them are from the summer she, Mom, and my Aunt Angela spent in Colorado while Pappaw took a training course there.  Others are from South Alabama, where she and Pappaw met.  And every once in a while when I'm at their house, she'll take me aside and slip me a (reasonably small) rock, whispering, "This one's from Montana."

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Survival

When we go hiking, Hubs loves to find the most dangerous-looking ledge possible and go scampering across it like a nimble mountain goat.

During a hike yesterday, I asked Hubs what he honestly thought would happen if, you know, just theoretically, he lost his footing on a slippery precipice and fell several hundred feet onto a jagged bed of rocks.

This was his response.

First of all, I wouldn't fall.  Second of all, even if I did fall, I wouldn't die, because of my sheer awesomeness.  At worst, I'd probably break a couple of bones.

As I was lying there unable to move, a bear might come by and be like

and I'd be like

and then I'd cook it with my laser vision.

Needless to say, my fears are alleviated.

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