Ring-ring…ring-ring…rin–

“Hello, this is Br–”

“Honey! Where are you??”

“I’m still at work…Is everything okay? George?”

“Stay there! I’m coming to get you!”

“Honey? What is goi–”

I hung up. I had no time for screwing around. We needed to be out of town this morning. There was no time left…

A figure shone in the distance in the beam of light from the Ford GT. As I neared it I noticed that it was missing a leg. Bad news. I didn’t care to stop. I was sure it wasn’t of the living. I was wrong. Zombies feel no pain, however, when I hit this body a piercing scream rang out; like that of steel being ripped in two. It was a human, not zombie, that I had torn in half.

I didn’t have time to think; I needed to cross forty seven miles to Smith Tower in downtown Seattle, and I needed to get there yesterday.

Fricking zombies. It was just two weeks ago I would have been sleeping in, having pancakes for breakfast, taking the dogs for a walk. Now the dogs were gone, early victims of the virus, and the boys were augmenting the national guard on the front lines.

I didn’t know if they were ok or not. The cell network and phone lines were one of the first things to go down when the sickness spread, destroyed during the mindless raging violence that accompanied the virus.

The shortwave radio sputtered static, and an operator announced that the horde was just south of downtown. He cut out, ominously, in the middle of a sentence and never returned.

I starting tossing weapons into the passenger seat of the car. Axe. Knives. Shotgun. New hybrid M16. On a whim, I tossed the welding torch in as well, and finally wedged my pistol on the dash, above the steering wheel.

The car’s gas tank was full, and I was pretty sure I could make it to the boat, that is, if I didn’t encounter any stray zombie bands separated from the main horde.

I took a deep breath, climbed in, drained the last of the bottle of scotch, and hit the gas pedal hard. I wasn’t sure why, but live or die, I was going to fight with everything I had to make it out to sea.

This post is a part of BLITEOTW 2009.

1. I was born in Rangoon, Burma, which is now Yangon, Myanmar, but only lived there for two years.
2. I won the junior high school spelling bee in 6th, 7th and 8th grades.
3. My dad taught me to flyfish when I was twelve, and I still love it.
4. I earned the exalted rank of Girl Scout First Class, and my award was signed by former President Jimmy Carter.
5. In high school I was an editor on the school paper and a flag-twirler in the color-guard.
6. I graduated from high school at 16 and started college at 17, which required that my parents sign permission and medical care releases with my dorm and the student health clinic.
7. I was baptized in my college swimming pool. This was anticlimactic since I spent 4 hours a day in that same water on the college swim team, and worked there as a lifeguard.
8. I was in Army ROTC in college, and wanted nothing more than to follow in my dad *and* mom’s footsteps and become a military officer, but at 19% body fat (athletic range) I was 15 pounds over the Army’s acceptable weight.
9. I ski-bummed for a quarter in college in Big Sky, Montana, until I blew out my knee.
10. My college major was in technical writing, but after working in the field for two years I realized I detested doing it for a living.
11. I lived in the UK – RAF Mildenhall – for two years, teaching at the Department of Defense junior high while my ex-husband was stationed there.
12. I taught business school for four years for a for-profit vocational college that eventually went under. My children will never attend a for-profit college.
13. Both of my children arrived weeks later than their anticipated delivery date. Things have not changed.
14. I met my husband on the Internet; I was a science fiction chat host. He was a Star Trek fan but I overlooked that and got to know him anyway.
15. I snow-machined up the Yukon river in -35° weather at sunrise. It was a business trip.
16. I drive a $%&#@%! minivan, which I swore I never would and don’t like much – but it has room in the back for two 6′3″ teen boys.
17. I don’t drink, dance or gamble, but it’s hardly for religious reasons. (Migraines, lack of coordination, and just not fun for me)
18. I am a compulsive and rapid reader, at about 100 paperback pph. My preference is science fiction, but will read fantasy, mystery, literature, biography, non-fiction, etc.
19. I love to metalsmith, work with beads & wire and make jewelry & metal art. I don’t wear a lot of jewelry though, I just enjoy the creative process and the end result.
20. I have a mild and much improved phobia of worms, which means I garden with gloves on.
21. I am a pimp, certified and everything. (A PMP is a certified project management professional but they nickname us “pimps”.)
22. I dislike watching television and especially detest having it constantly on in the background. It’s a distraction I can’t filter out. I pick an occasional (geeky) show and watch tape-delayed so I can fast-forward through the ads.
23. While I am technically savvy and reasonably knowledgeable, troubleshooting makes me crazy and cranky; it’s a very good thing I did not choose that career path.
24. Someday after I finish paying for the teen boy squad’s college I’m going to go back to school and earn an MFA in metal arts.
25. I’m a member of a super-secret organization called the UCF. We’re dedicated to international espionage, debunking bad science, creative writing and comment-hijacking.

My 4th birthday with a new cowgirl outfit. Many cowgirls wear red keds.

Camping over spring break, ca 1975. We grew up in the desert, this is where we camped – at least the fishing was excellent. Loved the socks.

I spent the better part of a decade in the pool, although I was not particularly good at it. This was about 1979, Pasco pool.

1980 homecoming; my date was a close friend. Youth is wasted on the young.

Your mission is to unearth two or three pictures of yourself from your child or teen years, scan or digitally image them and post them. Extra points are awarded for humorous or embarrassing images!

I dare you!

I found this: list fifty things you’ll never do. The first twenty five were easy, but it was surprisingly hard to reach fifty. If this inspires you to write, feel free to swipe it!

I’ll never…

1. Stop loving my children
2. Take street drugs
3. Bungee jump
4. Climb a mountain (bad knees)
5. Eat stinky tofu
6. Eat fugu (pufferfish)
7. Abandon a pet
8. Buy a six-figure luxury car
9. Buy a six-figure yacht
10. Wear stiletto heels
11. Pierce my tongue
12. Pierce my navel
13. Have another child
14. Run a marathon (bad knees)
15. Join the military (too old)
16. Sing publicly
17. Become a veterinarian
18. Be a deep sea fisherman (seasickness)
19. Sail around the world
20. Be a surgeon (poor hand-eye)
21. Read true crime novels
22. Participate in a reality tv show
23. Enjoy rap & hip hop music
24. Travel to Burma (no longer exists)
25. High-stakes gambling
26. Be a social worker
27. Enjoy housework
28. Own horses (or other farm animals)
29. Be a day trader
30. Buy designer clothing
31. Wear fur – not for PETA reasons, but because I don’t need to appear thicker and fluffier
32. Drink bourbon. Or Manhattans.
33. Eat Velveeta. (shudder)
34. Have big hair
35. Live in Asia
36. Emigrate to another country
37. Program in Cobol. Or Pascal.
38. Host an adult website
39. Sell my organs
40. Join a cult
41. Get an MBA (why?)
42. Work in the restaurant business
43. Eat a scotch bonnet pepper
44. Smoke a cigar (would nauseate me)
45. Golf under a 90 handicap
46. Sunbathe (too skin cancer prone)
47. Act on tv or in a movie
48. Keep an exotic animal as pet
49. Meet the Queen of England
50. Go fishing with my dad again (he’s gone)

This week, she and guest blogger Justin Ryan have added a challenge that’s very appropriate this Thanksgiving week: Padded Rooms, Paper Cuts and Your Mission for Monday. Go there, check it out!

Basically, the challenge is to give thanks to all those who keep us out of the funny farm, whoever they may be. The post implies a visual output, but I’d imagine an audio, video or written version would work as well. (Too bad I don’t do video, because it’d be fun to dress up, put on a tiara, and videotape a thanks to everyone acceptance speech for some wonderful award! I *won’t* be doing that.)

I want to pass along the Manic Monday challenge: who are you thankful for? Who helps you keep it together when the world is weighing heavily upon you? You can certainly answer in comments, but I suggest that this subject is worthy of its own blog post, in your venue.

Be creative.

This actually has some bearing on my WIP. In trying to flesh out my characters beyond the cardboard cutout stage, I’m working on giving one of them A Criminal Past. She now leaves a responsible, clean and (mostly) sober life.

Meme nefariously obtained from Jay Lake.

Cute. But hardly accurate.

During the great depression that began in 1929:

• The stock market plummeted 80% on Black Thursday
• Unemployment rates soared to 25%
• Farm foreclosure rate was 40%; all other foreclosures were at 5%
• Federal aid to the unemployed did not begin until 1931 and was minuscule
• Suicide rates increased from 14 to 17 per 100,000.

During the current recession:

• The stock market’s free fall was at 40% last Thursday
• Unemployment rates are currently in the 5-6% range
• Foreclosure rates are in the 2.5%+ range
• State aid to the unemployed – while not generous – is available
• Suicide rate was 11 per 100,000 in 2005 – although anecdotal evidence of suicide and other tragedy is growing

When I called my financial broker friend last week to ask how she was doing, I teased her about not jumping out of her building in despair – she works in a small single-story, flat-roofed office building. She laughed and agreed that a scraped knee was all she could achieve.

In all seriousness, while I am saddened by the panicked, violent, suicidal response to the housing and market failure, I truly don’t understand it.

A homeowner who has a home and loses it, or an investment account that drops 33%, even 50%, in value is still light years ahead of the truly poor in America and around the world.

I’ve been through tough financial times. I’ve been a single parent living paycheck to paycheck – juggling medical bills or milk, and knowing one car breakdown would make the difference between paying rent or not. Still, I had a job, medical insurance, a car, an apartment and food in my refrigerator. I was light years ahead of the truly poor in our world.

In 2005, statistics indicated that 12.3% of the US population lived below the poverty threshold – defined as $20,000 for a family of 4. Those numbers are based on a 40-year old formula which critics feel is outdated; I agree, and challenge anyone to successfully support a family of four (or 2!) on $21,000 a year. Still, those surveyed have a documented income.

I walk by the truly poor when I go to work in Seattle – they sleep on cardboard, covered with newspaper. They urinate in the public gardens, bathe only rarely, and rely on missions and alms for food. I see those poor when I travel in rural Alaska – they live in tarpaper covered shacks with no indoor plumbing or toilet facilities, and hunt and trap for the only food they’ll have for the winter. I hear stories about the poor in other countries, in war-torn Africa, Asia and Central America, where poverty is the norm and only the very fortunate escape.

Why just walk on by – either literally or figuratively, take your pick?

The always thought-provoking Dooce talks about compassionately giving to street beggars. If you’re not comfortable with that, it’s United Way campaign time, so consider donating to them or to an alternate community charity of your choice. This holiday season, you could even give the gift of food to your local food bank or soup kitchen to help those in need.

I don’t know that any one of us can make a significant dent in the problem of world poverty. Even so, Dooce writes in her eloquent post:

Because I have to believe that even if only one of the hundreds of people uses that money to feed themselves or their dog or their hidden, desperate children, or even if they use it to have a more comfortable night than the one they had last night, then we will have done right in every instance…

If we can help even one person, we’ve made a difference in the world. Isn’t that why we’re here?

Your deadline for registering to vote in Washington is this Saturday, October 4. If you’re not registered – then go do it. Really. And if you are – then plan to vote!

Note: the video is probably PG.

This is via Tania, whose tastes lean to the classical. My tastes are more eclectic, ranging through folk, classical, medieval, country and heavy metal, omitting only hip-hop & rap.

To make your own iTunes picture:

1) In iTunes, select View Options under the View menu.
2) Turn off everything but “Artist.”
3) Select all and copy into a spreadsheet.
4) Delete the column with the music title.
5) Paste the results into the Wordle.net Create page.