Did you know that the Princess Carrina series for Young Readers is complete? That’s right! A three book series that’s just waiting for you to grab it up and enjoy. If you haven’t been with us in a while, you might not know that the third and final book just became available on amazon.com. This means that the entire series is there for the taking!

I haven’t decided if I will write a fourth in the series, but if I do it will probably not be until 2010, or perhaps in November 2009 during NaNoWriMo. There is just too much other stuff on my plate, and while I enjoyed the young reader’s series, I tend to prefer more adult fiction, and I think my writing is better in non-youth literature.

I’ll share a secret with you - most people like book 2 the best - that’s The Venus Diary. Personally, I prefer the third, and final book in the series The Dragons of Tarnack. Book 1 - Box of Hair: A Fairy Tale, was originally intended to be the only book, but then I got the itch to see if I could evolve the characters and storyline, and that’s why books 2 and 3 are better :-).

The other things that you’ll find available on amazon.com, or Barnes & Noble if you prefer, are my blog compilation volume 1, a 3-book poetry compilation, and a short story (exclusively at lulu.com). Everything is also Kindle enabled, if you’ve got one of those snazzy devices (just search “heath buckmaster” on amazon.com). Buy everything and you’ll get free shipping from amazon.com!!

With the holidays coming up soon, a book is a wonderful gift for readers young and old alike, and thank you in advance for supporting Independent Authors!!!

No ween would be complete without the ancient story of the Great Halloween Massacre, so here I deliver an encore presentation…

Or for those of you with small children reading this, you are permitted to feel hecka great, although hecka great doesn’t even come close to feeling hella great.

What a joyous and fun day to celebrate the exhumation of spirits and ghouls and ghosts and zombies that creep out from every tomb and are closing in to seal your doom (snaps to MJ). Hellaween is my second favourite helladay just after Xmas (and soon will become my favourite). Third on the list is Turkey Day, and then after that there are no other helladays that float my boat. Hellaween and Xmas are the only two major helladays in our culture that require massive amounts of decorations, themed parties, and costuming.

Houses are decorated with strands of orange lights and pumpkins for Hellaween, and are decorated with strands of white and multicoloured lights and trees for Xmas.Hellaween brings us carved pumpkins, while Xmas brings us carved turkeys and hams. For the dark helladay we dress up in costumes that could be scary, funny, wild, or crazy, and for the bright helladay, we dress up in festive reds and whites indicative of the leader of Xmas, Santa Clause.

Hellaween, however, doesn’t really have the same type of official mascot as Xmas. In fact, when we look across the gamut of helladays can you think of any other that has that official figurehead? Personally I think it’s about time for an officially designated leader of Hellaween.

Those of you who are huge fans of The Nightmare Before Xmas may begin the lobby for Jack Skellington, that hollow-headed insane creature who has a fascination for women with stitches all over their bodies. Others of you might feel that because this is the dark helladay, we need a more loathsome, e-ville (as in frew-its of the de-ville) type of creature like Satan, the Devil, Lucifer, Beelzebub, the Fallen One, or some other derivative of the former angel of music (if you didn’t get this, please refer to the Music Makes a People Come Together Editorial).

But this can’t be a happy story…we are talking about the dark helladay you know…so let us reflect on that most memorable day in our history…The Great Hellaween Massacre…

Enter my Hellavision. A massively evil orange pumpkin man, basically the size of the Stay Puft Marshmallow man from that classic Hellaween movie, Ghostbusters. What other figure could simultaneously cause explosions of laughter and screams of terror from children everywhere, as the Hellaween Evil Man-Pumpkin (HEMP) comes crashing through their neighbourhoods stealing candy, decorations, and any child dressed up as a pumpkin.

Panic would ensue on Hellaween as children everywhere begin to see a massive pumpkin moving toward their city - not knowing what was happening, who this was, where it came from, and why it was so orange and as big as the sun. The screaming would start as trick-or-treat’ers would begin the mad dash home, as the HEMP begins taking over the terrified population summoning ghosts and ghouls from the depths of every mortuary in town.

Eerie bats, who make that WEEE WEEE WEEE sound, would fly out from caverns deep in the mountains…vampire bats, swooping down on unsuspecting children picking them up and carrying them into the lair of the evil HEMP. There he would munch and crunch (good crunchings and munchings, snaps to DB).

Screams would come from all corners of the globe as children raced to change their costumes into something other than pumpkins so that the HEMP would pass them over. Parents would quickly smash all of their carved pumpkins into the street, not only in protest and defiance, but so the HEMP wouldn’t see how they had desecrated his next of kin. Orange lights on houses would quickly be replaced with black, so the HEMP couldn’t see the scared children hiding behind the fake tombstones and witch statues.

HEMP would smash buildings, rip out trees, break darns causing huge floods, throw cars around like little toys, express copious amounts of cloudy gas from his pumpkin butt, and generally irritate anyone in the vicinity. After an unnecessary number of hours, the government would declare a state of emergency.

The HEMP must be stopped! We must send in the armed guards dressed in orange camo! We must send in hellacopters and tanks! We must smite the HEMP and protect our children from the dark helladay! But the HEMP would be too powerful against the tiny army that was left after the rest of them had already been sent across the world to smite a secondary evil, and so the people of the country would unite against HEMP on their own. (there would be a special referendum that they would vote on, to abolish the HEMP)

“DOWN WITH THE HEMP, DOWN WITH THE HEMP” they would shout, as parents and children would arm themselves with the pitchforks that were stuck in haystacks in their front yard decorations, and carving knives from the pumpkin carving set, and torches burning bright to illuminate the city in the unnatural darkness of Hellaween. HEMP would crash into the center of the town, surrounded by an angry mob, blasting his cloudy gas and grabbing children who hadn’t had time to change costumes and sending them flying into his gaping, toothy mouth.

The angry crowd would begin chanting, “BURN THE HEMP, BURN THE HEMP, SMOKE HIM OUT!!!”. Flames would erupt around the HEMP, as he tried to jump up a building and get away from the flames, but the force of the parents and children in costumes would overpower him, burning his tender orange flesh. Dark black smoke would fill the air on Hellaween, blocking out the last rays of the smoldering sun, sending children and parents dashing through the darkness with costumes and capes blowing behind, as the HEMP comes crashing down into a blaze of glory. A Hellaween bonfire if you will.

The HEMP gets hotter and hotter, he starts to expand, and bulge, then suddenly explodes, sending bits of pumpkin and freshly baked seeds flying across all corners of the earth, smacking children in the face blowing them miles away with the force of the seeds. Ghosts and ghouls flying in every direction with faces full of cooked pumpkin. Showers of orange splattering houses and buildings, trees and mountains, filling the lakes and rivers with an orange soupy gunk.

At last the explosions stop. The angry and scared people stand dumbstruck at the carnage around them. People drip with pumpkin, wandering about looking for loved ones, on this the Great Hellaween Massacre. But as the rebuilding process begins, and as parents find their children, still in costume, but scattered far and wide, they realize that the day has been saved, and joyous cheering erupts from every mouth (along with seeds and pumpkin rind).

“HURRAY, HURRAH, the HEMP IS GONE!!!!!”

The government, satisfied that the HEMP has been abolished, goes back into hibernation. While the people gather round, bringing bags of brown sugar, salt, baking soda, and nutmeg, and enjoy freshly baked pumpkin pie to celebrate the defeat of the HEMP. Then suddenly, they realized that the HEMP wasn’t really all that bad. Yes it had caused some destruction of city property, and yes it had caused people to run around screaming and laughing and doing foolish things, but there had also been a wonderful byproduct of the HEMP…this delicious and wonderful pumpkin pie that they were now enjoying, and the fantabulous baked seeds that they were crunching.

Suddenly the crowd began to sing, “LONG LIVE THE HEMP, LONG LIVE THE HEMP!!”

And so even today, on this special dark helladay, as we remember the sacrifices made by the people during the Great Hellaween Massacre, we are reminded that the HEMP really wasn’t all that bad.

Happy Hellaween everyone, and enjoy that pumpkin pie :-).

Boo!

Can you believe it…David is 40 today.

Here’s what he looked like when I met him - at his 35th birthday…

Here we are at Marrakesh for his 37th birthday party…

And here we are in Niagara not on any birthday but it’s just a cute picture of us…

Happy Birthday David!!!

What follows is a short diddley-doo that I wrote a few years ago in honour of the American Independence Day. It’s quite a load of rubbish so enjoy.

Philodendron. Common name, Pothos. Derived from the Latin Vulgate meaning that which grows and spreads like wildfire yet can grow even in dark closets. This “devil’s ivy” has sprung up in every restaurant, every airport, every hospital, everywhere!

The obvious benefits of such a plant is well…obvious! They add a sparkle of green and yellow to the decor; they easily spread to cover a large area, and can be used to accent not only table tops, but also counters, shelves, bookcases, and in ancient times they even put them on either side of the portcullis of a castle.

But what we’re really concerned with today are the health benefits of the Pothos. As with any chlorophyll rich foliage, the Pothos is responsible for contributing to our ability to live and breathe on this planet.

Without the Pothos, oxygen would in fact be considered a rare commodity. So much so, that within years it would be so rare that it could only be found on the black market: bottled, canned, spritzed, and vacuum sealed. There would be different quality offerings of the precious O2. For those on a diet, there might be Diet-O2, but what if you want all the flavour of O2 but not all the gassy aftertaste, maybe they would offer O1.

At some point, they’ll start with the marketing gimmicks to get you to buy more at higher prices. New-O2, CherryO2, Diet CarbonFreeO2, Diet Black Cherry Vanilla O2. It will never end. All of this tragedy of events could happen were it not for the glorious Pothos.

Obviously we can’t do without this precious plant. Unfortunately they are so abundant that their relative value and cost is next to nothing. Any resident of our planet with $5 can go to their neighborhood Target/Wal-Mart/Kmart and pick up a Pothos. But imagine with me once again: if we suddenly had only a finite supply of them left, or if they only grew in one remote sector of the world, they’d become as valuable as diamonds.

You could only buy them at DeBeers Exotic Pothos Emporium, but you would have to get on a wait list and the only way to get on the wait list would be to call a special phone number at a special time and hope to not get a busy signal (sort of like voting on American Idol). Assuming you got through on the phone, and then assuming you got on the wait list you would still have to pass a rigorous Pothos Ownership Operating Process (POOP) Exam. Not only is there a written exam, but an oral exam, home inspection, and a requirement to sign a waiver allowing DeBeers to reclaim the plant in the case of neglect and allowing for periodic home re-evaluations. You’ll notice I have switched to the present perfect tense because this could actually become reality sooner than you think!

There are probably those of you out there who think “I’m safe. I already have several Pothos at my house so I don’t ever have to worry.” Unfortunately, the president, and I think we all know who that is, just passed a law allowing the military to enter any personal property and seize any live Pothos on the premises.

The law is actually so all encompassing that they can seize dead Pothos as well, or force you to search your garbage for any you may have thrown away. So as you can see, no one will be safe from the threat of Pothos extinction.

Well, except for the very very rich. Anyone making over $500,000 a year would be exempt from the new law of course. Heaven forbid we deprive the rich from their double half-caf, half-decaf O2 with a twist of lime. Besides, the middle class should just learn to be happy with the Novadollar’s O2-AuLait right? For those of you who aren’t bilingual, Au Lait means with milk. That’s French. Which means that if you traveled to France and wanted to have some O2 with Milk, you’d have to say “Au Lait” instead of “with milk” otherwise they wouldn’t understand you, because no one in France is bilingual. Be careful about using this term in other countries, such as Mexico or Spain, or they might send a bull charging after you, because Au Lait is surprisingly similar in sound to O’le!

Unfortunately, there are no Pothos in France, so I don’t know why anyone would go there anyway. Except maybe to see La Toure Eiffel, that means Eiffel Tower. But you can see pictures of it anywhere, so again I ask, what’s the point? I’d much rather go somewhere and see something that no one has ever seen or taken a picture of.

Maybe some remote cave in the middle of a vast line of underground caverns that maybe hasn’t even been discovered, and maybe contains a vast cache of Pothos growing wildly and abundantly creating so much O2 that if it ever escaped from the cave would throw off the balance of the entire global O2 market, sending O2 stocks crashing down and ensuring quality breathing air for anyone on our planet, turning billionaires and other rich folks into ordinary middle class within minutes. (reminds me of the Great Chopsticks Incident of 2004)

It could happen…

*This commentary is based on the Award Winning Best Selling Novel by the same author, and in no way supports or defames the holiday of Independence Day, because it has absolutely no content related to aforementioned holiday.

Memorial Day.

For me, Memorial Day is the ultimate in celebrations. I can picture it now. What it might look like, who might attend, what I would be wearing, how fabulous my hair would look, people being overheard saying “Love your hair, hope you win!”.

For me, it’s never too soon to plan the Memorial Day festivities.

First let’s talk about the food. Hot cider or wine punch, fresh seafood salads, maybe some rock shrimp or rock lobster WOO!, finger sandwiches, hand sandwiches, a SUBWAY party sub, exotic barbecued things, spectacular ethnic dishes served with hot sauce. The essence of every celebration is having the ultimate spread. Without a massive buffet, people get bored and leave. Because really, when there is nothing more to talk about, people either get married, or eat. This is why the USA is the fattest nation in the world.

No, that’s not PHAT, though some of us are definitely Pretty Hot And Tempting. It’s FAT - Americans eat all the time! You can’t walk any direction from my house without running into 4 Chinese, 2 Sushi, 4 American, 2 Mexican, or 8 Cafe restaurants, all within a 5 mile radius. Apparently we’ve nothing left to discuss, so we all retreat to the buffet line and fill our mouths with food so that in the event we DO think of something to talk about, our mouths are too full of soft chimichangas to bother. Anyway.

So now the food is planned. Next comes the entertainment. For me, any celebration worth its sea-salt (see what I did there? If you are still using regular salt, you can’t come to my Memorial Day) must have PHAT entertainment. At a minimum, a dance floor must be provided. And if you have a dance floor, you must have music. I prefer a professional DJ to mix it up for the event. Using a pro allows the guests to concentrate on dancing, instead of running to the CD changer every 4 minutes and 52 seconds (based on average track length of 100 statistically analyzed Top 50 cd’s).

Another reason to have a DJ is to allow guests to request songs, and feel like they are part of the process. Granted, most people request songs like Mamma Mia, or Here Comes the Rain Again, which are virtually impossible to dance to based on today’s standards, but atleast they feel like they are part of something larger than themselves.

Next on the list, is quite possibly the most important item to plan for. The Rent-A-Guest (TM). As with any celebration, there are going to be a lot of attendees that you may have never seen before. In these situations, it is sometimes necessary to salt the audience (if they are slugs) with Rent-A-Guest(TM) personnel known as “Instigators”.

These “Instigators” are responsible for getting the party started right, and getting the party started quickly, right?. They mingle with strangers, treating them like long-lost friends, and encourage people to get out on the dance floor to get their boogie on. Without the R-A-G(TM) you run the risk of a celebration that never moves more than 2 feet away from the buffet table, and ends at 7pm.

Now that we’ve planned the food, entertainment, and instigation, it’s time to concentrate on decor. We don’t want something too over the top, unless it’s Mardi Gras, which is an entirely different M Day. We also don’t want something too sombre that makes people feel sleepy. I find that a nice mix of floral arrangements, streamers, balloons, banners, and ice sculptures, makes a simple yet elegant atmosphere. The balloons give any child in attendance something to pop. The ice sculptures double as a conversation piece, and a punch cooler. Streamers and banners are great to fill any empty wall or ceiling space. And flowers and plants can be used to accent any area that needs a little colour.

Of course any time you have decoration, it is always important to have good lighting. Overhead or fluorescents are always a no-no. I prefer to use strategically positioned halogen spot lighting to enhance specific areas of the room, art on a wall, or maybe even an ice sculpture to give the appearance of glow. This also allows the resident Diva’s to bask in their own personal spotlight, if so inclined.

So now I’m almost done planning. I have the food, the entertainment, the instigators, the decorations, and the lighting. But for me, what it really all boils down to when planning my perfect Memorial Day is the colour of the felt in my coffin. I’m thinking hot magenta…

According to my Forgotten English Page-A-Day Calendar (so wonderfully given to me by Rachelle), we need to be celebrating Sheelah’s Day today with LOTS of whisky, specifically peat-reek-whisky. And yes, I spelled whisky correctly.
Here’s the scoop…

peat-reek-whisky:

highland whisky, distilled over peat fires (from Alexander Warrack’s Scots Dialect Dictionary, 1911)

Sheelah’s Day:

The day after St. Patrick’s Day is Sheelah’s Day, or the Festival in Honour of Sheelah. Its observers are not so anxious to determine who Sheelah was as they are earnest in her celebration. Some say she was Patrick’s wife, others that she was Patrick’s mother, while all agree that her immortal memory is to be maintained by potations of whisky. The shamrock worn on St. Patrick’s Day should also be worn on Sheelah’s Day, and on the latter night be “drowned” in the last glass. Yet it frequently happens that the last glass of St. Patrick’s Day, and another “last glass” or two, or more, on the same night deluges the over-sodden trefoil. This is not quite correct, but it is endeavoured to be remedied the next morning by the display of a fresh shamrock which is steeped at night in honour of Sheelah with equal devotedness.

- William Hone’s Every-Day Book, or Everlasting Calendar, 1827

Now that’s a holiday I can get in to.

In honour of this um, holiday…I present something from the archives…from last year’s green-day event.

—–

So apparently I missed the memo. As I went into the cafe to get my cheezy eggs, two bacon’s and coffee this morning, I discovered that I couldn’t see what I was scooping from the egg tray because of this gaudy green boa draped across the sneeze guard. What’s up with that, I thought to myself…

Apparently today is some sort of holiday or something…many people seem to be wearing green. I am not. I am wearing jeans which are blue, and a button up shirt which is orange, blue, and white. It’s nowhere near green. You couldn’t even make green by blending the colours I’m wearing.

My socks aren’t green, nor are my shoes, and neither is my undershirt or underwear. Glasses, not green either. In fact, about the ONLY thing on me that I can find that is even vaguely close to green, is a little bit of tarnish on my earring.

But I don’t think that counts. But really, where were the announcements? I saw nothing on the news, there were no banners on the freeways. No announcement on the radio, no flyer in my mail box, and no spam about drinking green beer. Not one single advertisement for St. Patrick’s Day.

Oh wait, excuse me, it’s not St. Patrick’s day any more is it? That wouldn’t be politically correct to say St. Patrick’s day…..my apologies.