Stages of Bono

When I was in high school I drew a funny stick figure drawing of Bono. Actually, there were four stick figure Bono's—each progressively drawn with shorter hair. I coined it, "The Stages of Bono." Yes, stick figures because my art skills are so rockin. I wish I still had the pic, but it sadly has fallen prey to my shuffle of stuff. Below is my new and improved version of "The Stages of Bono."

Ok, his hair started off shorter.

The "Unforgettable Fire," oh, yeah, mullet.

The attractive long style.

And the occasional ponytail.

ZooTV brought on the chop of the hair and Bono dons the sunglasses.

Popmart brings on the buzz—the side we never thought we’d see.

A little longer now, granted I drew the pic just after the Popmart tour.
BTW, love the "Pop" album. Everyone should.

And just for kicks, Pope Bono arrives.

And last but not least in the Stages of Bono tour,
a little longer hair cut than the buzz and totally cute.
Sunglasses still in style for Mr. Paul Hewson.

I love Bono! Can I meet you please? Hehe!

Adventure with the Boys

A couple weeks ago, I babysat my three nephews. When I arrived, nephew #2 had built a tiny fort by the fridge. After my brother and sister-in-law left, the fort building continued, only all three boys were getting in on the fun. Almost all of the towels and blankets in the house were being used. I could have been the mean aunt who said, "You're making a mess. Clean it up." But I decided to be the totally-awesome-aunt-who-lets-her-cute-nephews-have-fun-doing-something-that-makes-them-happy-but-makes-a-mess. Of course, they had ridiculous amounts of fun, and I did too. A couple times I patted nephew #3 on the bum, which turned into him patting me on the bum at every chance he got. I thought that was a bad thing to have taught him. Anyway, I turned out playing the mommy dog and they were my little pups, and the fort was their doggy house. After about 45 minutes of playing Fort/Puppies, nephew #1 decided it was time to watch "Blues Clues." The fort was left without being cleaned up. I shrugged it off thinking I'll make them clean it up later.

Then came the moment I was expecting when nephew #1 said, "It's time for dessert."
I replied, "You'll have to clean up the fort to get into the fridge."
He said, "Oh," and sat back down to watch some more of the show.
I laughed inside thinking man we should make forts in front of the fridge more often. They won't want dessert if they have to clean up to get into the fridge. His little sweet tooth (he takes after his Aunt Julia) started biting about twenty minutes later, so we cleaned up the fort. Well, we took down the additions made on to the original part of the fort because nephew #2 didn’t want to take down his creation. It was so not in the way—sort of—so it stayed in tact. We had dessert and started watching "Scooby Doo". Soon thereafter, it was bedtime—at least for the two little ones. Nephew #3 was in bed, so it was on to getting nephew #2 in bed. The only problem was he really wanted to sleep in his fort. He snuggled himself inside it to where I would have to pull him out, and I would not have that. Luckily the power of distraction persuaded him out. I told him we could get his trains and he could sleep with them. He loves trains. He came out of his little fort quite happily. I got him to bed and, of course, let nephew #1 stay up way past his bedtime. It was a Friday anyway... I’m the coolest aunt ever—outside of my sister who is a pretty cool aunt too. Now, just if I could have babysat my 4-month-old niece too—the three boys’ little sister. That would have been total awesomeness. Ok, it gave me time to spoil the three boys, and that's what being an aunt is all about, right? I love my nephews and niece. They are priceless and super cool too!

Young Johnny Depp - A Short Story by Julia King

        My dream started with my sister and I sitting on the stairs in the foyer of a newly built colonial house clothed with white siding and baby blue shutters. The stairs were shinny and still smelled of varnish. We stared at a television that was playing a movie. A few of us were in the room awaiting something—something we didn’t know about. It was a dream so we didn’t need any reason to be there. The others in the room had no faces. They were just filling space in the recesses of the dream. My sister took notice of a boy featured in the movie.

“That’s Johnny Depp, only younger!” she exclaimed.

“Really?” I replied after rushing up to the screen to press my finger on the young Johnny’s face.

“It is him. Is he singing?” The movies scene scanned over a choir group, stilling on Johnny’s face as he sang a beautiful tune. It was like the young Christian Bale singing in Empire of the Sun only not as angelically.

“It looks like him,” she answered.

“Wow, he was even cute as a little boy with his chubby cheeks.” I finally removed my hand from the screen of the TV—a little dust clung to my finger in which I rubbed off on my pant leg. “Wouldn’t it be great to meet him, sis?”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t mind that.”

Seconds later, the windowed door with lace curtains opened. A mom with long, brown hair and a young boy, no older than twelve, walked into the room. The boy was fussing and causing all sorts of problems for the woman.

“Let’s go, Mom. I don’t want to run errands anymore. Take me home, so I can finish my haunted house. Now!” he screamed.

“I will take you home when I am done!” She looked at him with little patience and shook her head in out direction. “He will be the death of me.”

I leaned toward my sister and whispered in her ear, “Is that who I think it is?”

The boy was now impatiently waiting for his mom who had disappeared into a back room. He kicked his sneakered foot on the hardwood floor, leaving a smudge.

I responded in awe, “I think so. Its Johnny only younger.”

As nonchalantly as possible, I shuffled over to where he stood. I looked at a vase of red roses that sat on a half circle table with three legs. “What’s your name?” I asked the boy.

“Johnny Depp. Why do you ask?” He sneered at me.

“Just wondering.” I smiled. “Are you an actor?”

“No!" He stuck his tongue out at me. "I would like to be putting the finishing touches on my haunted house, but my Mom,” he pointed to the other room with an accusing finger, “is taking her time getting home.”

Still in awe and gawking at the young boy, I suggested, “How about we go see it?” I eyed my sister, wanting approval to go. She nodded and gawked just as much as I was at the young Johnny. “My question is why are you making a haunted house in December?”

“Why not?” the young Johnny asked. I shrugged, knowing it was just fine to make a haunted house in December. It was a dream, and in dreams things automatically make sense.

We left without any thought of waiting for his mom. It was as if she had never existed. By the time we got to young Johnny’s house, his haunted house was astonishingly finished.

After a torturous first time through the haunted house, we exited it scared out of our wits. In actuality, the haunted house was whimsical and funny, but to us, it was catastrophically terrifying. When the multi-colored clowns popped out at us, they were smiling, not wanting to rip our heads off.

After walking out of the haunted house, the young Johnny demanded, “You need to go through it again.”

We complied even though we dared not go through again. Once out of it, he demanded the same thing of us, so we complied. After multiple times being scared silly at the rather funny haunted house, we finally wanted to leave, and no longer felt like gawking at Johnny anymore.

He turned on us. He told us that we could never leave. We were his captives and would need to travel the haunted house again and again. FOREVER. We tried to get out of the windows with no luck. We tried getting out of the front and back door, but Johnny always got in the way. There was always something up his sleeve blocking our way from egress.

Just once, he let his guard down, and we escaped through the front door. We ran out of the cul-de-sac only to be found by our little friend, Johnny.

“Where are you going? Don’t you like the haunted house anymore?” He gawked at us now.

“No, we love it,” I lied.

My sister kicked me in the shin. “No, Johnny, we hate it. We want to leave. Just let us go. Now!” she yelled.

“Alright, I admit, we are tired and want to go home. You are pretty much creeping us out kid.” I tried smiling at him to work on his possible softer side.

“But, you are the King Sisters. I have wanted to meet you for, like, forever.” He stomped his foot. “I don’t want you to leave.”

“What?” We both coughed out together. “The King Sisters?”

“Yes,” he smiled. “The King Sisters. I have watched you in TV and movies for, like, ever. You are famous.” He then was no longer a little boy, he was the older, one and only, Johnny Depp, and now he was graveling at our feet.

“Um,” I said, “We aren’t famous. You are?”

“No, I’m not.” He banged his hand hard on the gravel road. "Ouch," he said. He gazed at us with admiring eyes. "A little pain is worth it for the two of you."

“Don’t you remember 21 Jump Street, Edward Scissorhands, Benny and Joon, Chocolat?” I questioned him.

His chin dropped and a little drool spilled out. “What?”

“Pirates of the Caribbean?” I asked. He shrugged only to drool some more. “You can’t remember the movies you’ve starred in.”

“What? Did you say something?” He bent over kissing our shoes. “Oh, sorry, I’m dirtying your shoes. Let me get a tissue and wipe my slobber off.” He ran back to the house.

Looking at each other in bewilderment, we shot off running like mad women. Graciously, my red car suddenly appeared on the street corner with my keys in the ignition. We hopped in car, I put the car into first gear, pumped the gas, and we sped off. I looked in the mirror to see him running after us, with a pad of paper and a pen in his hand.

I could hear him screaming something inaudible. It sounded like, “Wait, just let me get your autographs. Please.” We turned the corner.

“Wow, that was weird. Us, famous,” my sister said.

“Yeah, that would be a trip.” I stopped at the red light, and looked over at the car that just pulled up. The car's window rolled down, and I heard the passenger saying something to me.

“Did you need something,” I said as I rolled the window down by pressing on the button on the armrest.

“Are you Julia King? Oh, my gosh, it’s the King Sisters. Look.” He punched his buddy in the arm, “It’s the King Sisters. They are so hot! Can we have your autographs?”

My sister and I looked at each other, not knowing what to say. The light turned green, so I gunned the car. The wheels screeched and we were off. I could smell burning rubber in my nose.

I woke up laughing. “Wow that was a strange dream. I should write a short story about it. 
So the blog has been written, some of the dream has been altered to make it more entertaining, and I am still sick with a cold. Maybe Johnny will read this one day and get a laugh out of it, as I hope you did.

The Sad Tale of the Running Nose

My week has been a bit rocky thus far. Well, the rockiness started on Saturday afternoon. While editing my novel, my nose started dripping. By the time I went to bed that night, I knew the evil cold had taken root.
Here’s how I've spent my time the last three days:
Sunday: slept, slept, slept and slept some more. Could not sleep at all Sunday night. I ended up reading almost 100 pages of the first book in “The Mortal Instruments” series by Cassandra Clare. Good book! I’d recommend it.
Monday: Called in sick to work, attempted to sleep with not much success. Went to the doctor with the intent of getting a shot in my bum to make me better super fast. Got the said shot, started to leave the doctor’s office, luckily sat down before I passed out right in the waiting room, and then waited until the stars stopped floating. Totally scary! I thought, how in the devil am I gonna drive home? Also, I was burning up and about to cry. Once, I got my bearings straight, I called my dad to drive me home, cause there was no way for me to safely drive. Yes, that's the second time, in that very doctor’s office, I've almost passed out because of getting a shot. Maybe I can start a record? Anyway, now that I look back on the experience, I really wish I could have been a fly on the wall watching the event unravel. I was probably white as a sheet and looked drugged. The rest of the day accrued many more sleepless attempts, neck throbbing because I had to double up the pillows in order to not drown in my own . . . I’ll leave that up to your own imagination. Hint: It’s a 4 letter word starting with an “S”, ending with a “T” and an “NO” in between. So, I spent most of last night watching X-Files episodes because I didn’t want to inadvertently die in my sleep for the above-mentioned reason.
Tuesday (Today): Didn’t go to work again. Luckily from 6:30 a.m. – 10:30 a.m. I slept peacefully. I visited the chiropractor in hopes he could get my poor neck back in order from the crappy sleeping situation. I ate and slept a bit and read more of “The Mortal Instruments".
I indulge you, or maybe bore you with this sob story of mine for good reason. Why, oh why, can’t there be an incubator that induces sleep so I can sleep away my cold symptoms until I'm in tip top shape. If anyone knows of such technology or is developing such a miracle system of getting over a cold, please, oh please, let me know. Wouldn’t that be lovely to sleep away a cold? Wake up all better and not need to go through the sleepless nights, blowing your nose, feeling achy, and having a fever.
Anyway, I am still under the weather with high hopes that I’ll be feeling awesome way soon. Cross you fingers and send me sleep well vibes tonight cause I really want to sleep. I even bought a humidifier to help me sleep. Much love to you all and prayers that you won’t get bitten by the evil and dreaded cold bug.

Polished Perfection, Soon...

I captured a pretty photo of Mount Timpanogos in Utah on my way to work the other morning. Snow is here my friends. Thought I would share it with you. Enjoy! Now on to my recent thoughts about writing…
I’ve been mad about editing the past week, can’t get enough of it; although, I wish I had more time for it. I love how editing takes something good and forms it into something more pliable, more sensical (Is that even a word? I like it!). It makes it beautiful. Obviously it isn’t spectacular yet, but it can only sore to a polished perfection. Something important I’ve learned lately, critiques are the only way to improve your writing. Ever since I’ve had a couple people edit my manuscript, it’s helped me to see how I can improve as a writer. Absorbing the advice, I see more clearly how to sculpt my novel as I edit. Over the past months, I’ve been picking apart what other authors do in their work. This exercise has helped me improve my own writing, because novels, in a way, are the blueprints to writing. I see what accomplished authors have done, how they write, or how they develop the plot/characters; and I grasp a better understanding of writing. It sometimes distracts from reading, because instead of devouring the story, I'm devouring the writing. For example, if you want to learn more about science, you ask a scientist. If you want to know more about writing, you ask an author. If there's any advice I, an aspiring writer, can offer others, it’s to have others critique your work. It's the only way to hone in your writing skills. I know 20 years from now, I’ll still be learning how to be a better writer. I hope with asking others for help, and learning from experience, I will improve all the time.

Parisian Perfection

While chit-chatting with my new coworker, we found out traveling is a common love of ours. After discussing our love of Paris, I mentioned I’m writing a novel set in Paris. I answered the normal questions about my book like: What kind of book is it? What’s it about? After some further discussion about my novel, he brought up this cool site to visit there. It's called Sainte-Chapelle. The structure boasts colorful stained-glass windows—the eye catching marvel of the Gothic structure. Sainte-Chapelle is near Notre Dame and Pont Neuf. I hope to venture back to Paris, so I can visit Sainte-Chapelle and other attractions I didn’t grace with my presence during my first trip to the city of lights and love. Check out the following links to learn about Sainte-Chapelle and see more photos. I’m sure you’ll fall in love.

http://sainte-chapelle.monuments-nationaux.fr/en/
http://www.sacred-destinations.com/france/paris-sainte-chapelle