Finally...

Last night I finished the final book in the Twilight series. Now I can get on with my life. Or can I? Suddenly I find myself comparing the love of my life (a.k.a. Doug) to Edward, the most perfectly romantic vampire to grace the fiction world. There's a few differences. (My friend Amy told her husband, "You really do many of the same things as Edward, but, Honey, you're just not a vampire..."

As I read the series, a few scenes made me wonder about the appropriateness of having Alex (my 11-year old girl) read the novels. (She finished the series a few weeks ago, so it was too late anyway.) Overall, though, I think the good outweighed the bad. Hopefully she has learned this: Hold out for someone who is incredibly attractive, insanely intelligent, very cultured, exerts tremendous willpower, and most of all, someone who will compose a ballad for her. Once she finds an Edward with all of these qualities and abilities, she will have my blessing.

I'm not sure she'll obtain her father's blessing though. Vampire or not.

Okay, my next few blogs will have focus on Cole. I've had some very entertaining conversations that I'll simply have to share soon. What a strange little mind he has. TTFN.

On Love and Vampires, Villains and Friends

So, after the urging of my daughter and my own curiosity over the vampire infatuation, I plunged into Stephenie Meyer’s Twilight series. As predicted, I’m completely engrossed in the tale of Edward and Bella as I await the delivery of Eclipse and Breaking Dawn.

Doug asked me what Twilight is all about.

“It’s about a vampire who falls in love with someone whom he greatly desires to kill.”

“That pretty much sums it up for all men.”

Hmm. That’s why I like to obtain perspectives of others. Apparently, I haven’t looked at the vampire metaphor from all angles.

Then, as we were watching The Dark Knight for the 53rd time since Christmas, I asked Doug if he would turn evil and avenge my death, like Harvey Dent. Without hesitation, my sweet hubby said, “Of course.”

I wonder though.

Fantasy is good. It reminds me how magical reality is. Seriously. I told my husband the other day (after reading New Moon) how lucky I am to be married to the same person I fell in love with nearly 18 years ago. He, of course, was suspicious because it’s not something I say everyday. But I should.

In other news…Cole seems to be recovered from the flu (hallelujah)...Grease was awesome. How fun it was to experience one of my childhood infatuations with Alex...Flash is still alive, despite his escape due to my own negligence. He showed up in the bathroom, staring at me as I dried my hair... I’m relishing in a headache as a result from a bottle of wine shared with one of my best friends last night. But it is one of those few headaches without regret – we laughed a lot as we sat on the couch and whispered about lots of stuff we never have time to discuss. It reminded me of those nights, long ago, when our youthful spirits stayed up late and giggled ourselves to sleep. Another thing I should do more.

Here's a picture of Lyn and me, as Velma and Ginger of course.