Remember Veruca Salt?

I’m not talking about the band, either. The all time classic movie from my childhood is Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory. If you are anywhere near my age, or if you have just seen the original movie (I won’t even comment on the creepiness of the Johnny Depp remake), you will remember Veruca Salt.


Oh yeah. There she is as we best remember her – demanding something that she wants. Of all the children’s characters in that movie, Veruca Salt stands out. Why? Because she has personality. Yes, she’s a spoiled brat. Yes, she is pretty unlikable and we feel sorry for her father in the movie, being saddled with such a termagant for a kid. But maybe Veruca is misunderstood. She’s a little girl begging for attention from her parents, who are too busy for her and instead indulge her every whim so that they don’t have to deal with any confrontation.

Look at that sweet face. All she wanted was a golden egg! Geez!


You’re thinking, What’s the point of all this, Tamara? The point, my dears, is that we remember Veruca because of her distinct personality. Actually, she’s my favorite character in the movie because she completely cracks me up. That girl knows how to get what she wants.

I keep this thought in my head when I’m dealing with the little quirks of my own children’s personalities. This morning, I dropped my son off for his last day of nursery school. He was wearing his favorite Spiderman t-shirt and matching shorts. He was also wearing his Spiderman winter cap and red gloves. He refused to take them off before we left because he said that wearing them makes him Spiderman. So Spiderman/Chase went to school in a winter hat and gloves because I figure, hey, that’s just his personality. Who cares if it looks a little ridiculous; it’s pretty cute if you ask me.

And when my daughter wears her bathing suit to school under her clothes and removes said clothes on the bus in the morning? Okay, okay, I think. It’s just a Veruca Salt. She’s just being who she is, my quirky little firecracker who thinks she looks pretty in her bathing suit.

I grew up with a strong personality. I, too, know how to get what I want. So when my kids are testing my limits with all those personality quirks that make them who they are, I tell myself that they’ll turn out all right. Because I was quirky too and look how great I turned out.



The Force is With Me

Oh Book Blogger Challenge, I forgot to tell you that I get bored very easily. You haven’t read my 100+3 Things About Me blog post yet, have you? No matter. I will try to complete you, Blogger Challenge.



Of course, Master Yoda. I do. I will complete my Book Blogger Challenge.

Day 8: Write 15 bullet points of things that appeal to you on blogs.

Humor, honesty, real life, parenting rants, personal opinion, raw emotion, creativity, anything about writing, book recommendations, parenting advice, music reviews, movie reviews, stuff about marriage, and wuv, tru wuv…

Day 9: Why Do You Blog About Books?

I don’t. Not usually, anyway. But I do love to read.

Day 10: How do you choose what book to read next? is pretty good at recommending books I will like based on the things I have already read. I get most of my ideas about what to read next from Goodreads. I am also one of those people who will read anything an author I like has written. I will literally grab the entire block of paperbacks by one author from the library shelf and read them one by one. When I’ve exhausted that author’s book list, I move on to another. And I take recommendations from friends too.

Hasta la vista, baby. Hit me with some of your favorite lines from a movie! I got a FEVER! And the only prescription…is MORE COWBELL. (You can include TV quotes too.)

7 Reasons I Could Survive a Horror Movie

My husband has a thing for horror movies. I don’t. But love will make you do weird things. Like watch Killer Clowns From Outer Space. (Although, not even love could get me to watch it a second time. Which he’s tried.) Over the last week, I have caved twice to the “do you want to watch a scary movie?” question. So we watched House At The End of the Street (Which I didn’t get the title of because it was about the house next door. And that’s a different movie altogether.) and 6 Souls. They were pretty good. Nothing that would wow my husband per se, but enough to freak me out just a little. There is something freaky about people who are both violent and aren’t in their right minds. Not as freaky as creepy little kids in horror movies, but still freaky.

These movies got me to thinking though. I could survive a horror movie plot.

Here’s how I came to that conclusion:

1. I can’t scream and run at the same time. Running and screaming seem to go together like peas and carrots in horror movies. It only makes sense, therefore, that since I can’t do this, I will survive. Without making more noise than the huff-huff of my breath, I might be able to successfully run away from whatever scary person/thing that is chasing me. If he/she/it is slow.

2. I have an irrational fear of basements. I refuse to go down into one. I don’t care if the basement is the only part of the house that seems remotely safe; I will not descend into that creepy mildewed chamber. This will save my life one day. I know it.


3. Hiding somewhere for more than 2 minutes fills me with the irresistible urge to pee. This would prompt me to go on the offensive, taking out the threat, so I could peaceably relieve my bladder.

4. Camping in the dark, dark woods does not turn me on. You will never catch me bare-assed and frolicking anywhere outside in the dark. Especially when people are mysteriously disappearing from their cabins/tents/RVs, etc. This too will save my life.

5. I don’t collect dolls. No freaky porcelain-headed glassy-eyed creep shows for me, thanks. Also, no ventriloquist dolls, puppets, or killer clown dolls to pull me under my bed.


6. I have never felt the urge to take a midnight stroll through a cemetery. Even if I felt the need to go walking in the dark, nothing could possibly tempt me to pass through the wrought iron gates of a cemetery.

7. In a homage to Stephen King, I will never: bury a dead animal in a cursed cemetery, go swimming in a lake with a mysterious oil slick, touch a green-glowing meteorite, follow a clown with a british accent down a sewer, house-sit an empty haunted hotel in Colorado, or hang out in a town full of creepy kids who worship corn. (The name Malachi still gives me the creeps.)


What horror movie freaked you out the most?