Super Secret Summer Spy Camp

We practiced furtive glances. We rescued hostages. We planned our escape routes and engaged the other spies in epic to-the-death water gun battles... and then we went home and had cake.

Last week I was the camp director for the Girls Scouts' Super Secret Summer Spy Camp. I'm a "go big or go home" kind of girl, so I stuffed it full of spy skills, spy crafts, ninja skills and spy facts. For those of you playing the home game, here's a brief rundown:

Spy crafts

• Keyhole Spy Tool
• Reverse sunglasses (sunglasses with mirrors inside so they can see in back of them)
• Escape scarves
• Code cylinders

Spy skills

• How to tell if someone is lying
• Body language
• Spy lingo
• Spy team
• General sneakiness
• Ninja skills
• Spy gadgets
• Disguises & voice modification
• Codes and codebreaking
• Spy science
• Codenames
• Maps
• Some lovely literature from the CIA
• Fingerprinting and subsequent fingerprint art/bookmarks

Spy games

• International telephone (get one secret from one country (tree) to the next without being discovered
• Hostage rescue (letterboxing for puppies)
• Escape maneuvers (parachutes)
• Waterboarding, er, water games
• Zombie tag. Come on, you knew I couldn't let a week with 60 girls go by without slipping in the Undead somewhere.  ;)

Not bad for a two-hour a day twilight camp, I tuckered those girls out! Double agents were kept to a minimum and a giant family BBQ/pool party rounded out the week but now it's back to zombies and ghosties for me. At least they're quieter...

A big thank you to my staff and my daughters who helped run the camp. Next year: ghost hunting?

What's on tap for the rest of your summer?

Love's Sweet Pickle: More Zombie Poetry

I was recently asked to perform zombie poetry at a venue in DC. While I turned down the opportunity because I look terrible in a beret, it did get me thinking about something down the road with all these ditties littering my hard drive. Anyone up for a chapbook of Undead poetry?

Some of these have been featured on the Zombie Dating Guide website at the Coffeehouse of the Damned but I'll throw in a few more that may have escaped the shackles.

In honor of Father's Day:

Just a little zombie ditty for you to share with dad
To reminisce & bond over good times that you've had

Chasing down the other kids on the big playground
Your zombie dad, he'd throw a head for your big touchdown

Pushing you on swings was a challenge that he met
His hands would often fall off but he never seemed to fret

He'd laugh a bit and push with stumps a smile on his face
Because he knew had a spare for the three-legged race

 

 

A birthday poem:

Just a little zombie song
Though they’re really hard to train
They like to sing falsetto
While munching on your brain

Your eyes pop out their nostrils
And ears come out their cheeks
And all the while your birthday cake
Will fester there for weeks

But fear not, my Undead friend
For they will move along
There’s always someone down the road
To hear their birthday song.

Asunder

Though our hearts are pulled asunder

Through our fights and many blunders

This is what you ought to know

Before you burn my stuff and go

You want to know what’s in my head?

I left it for you under the bed.

Zombie sing-along

Just a little zombie verse
They come around when you've been cursed

They pop up when the end is near
And hope they catch you by the ear

As they nibble, they'll be hummin'
On your intestines, they'll be strummin'

And sing about the one that fled
But luckily they kept his head

 Slightly moldy

Two hearts beat as though as one
Dried and putrid but more fun

No one could ever argue with
As zombies share lovers kiss

Slightly moldy, missing toes
The love between them always grows

Chin up, zombie singletons!

    There is no law that the brokenhearted
    Must be withered, and thus departed

    For those who loved and then had lost
    May find again at any cost

    A heart so true, they're quick to heal
    And gain themselves a tasty meal

Love's Sweet Pickle

    It's the little things that mean so much

    Like toes and fingers, eyes and such

    But search within for love's sweet call
    As zombies stagger, trip and fall

    They don't give up, though heads are fickle
    A zombie's heart is love's sweet pickle.

 

Eyebrows fried are quite a dish

    Eyebrows fried are quite a dish
    They make the other zombies wish

    That they had someone to admire
    While they stay away from fire

    The daring of a zombie male
    Competes as other zombies pale

    In feats of stumbling to and fro
    In love matters this they know

    That hearts are fragile as they feel
    They are the finest zombie meal

Stiffies

    Stiffness comes not from the bones
    Nor from our thoughts when we're alone

    It comes when we are separated
    From our loved ones, we are gated

    To stand apart and watch them live
    And ask their beating hearts to give

    One glance our way, one stolen kiss
    One tiny finger they won't miss

    We cannot reach them, no not yet
    But one day soon, those brains we'll get.

Snowflakes

    Snowflakes melt on tongues
    but not the ones in pockets
    zombies saves for snacks

Horace

    There once was a zombie named Horace
    Who thought he would join the new chorus

    His heart all a flutter
    He came down with a stutter

    And now there's no chorus for Horace

The toes, they burn

    Holiday parties
    zombies sniff the cheese tray and
    eat the mistletoe

Care to share your own zombie poem? Coffeehouse snaps are waiting, baby!

Get your own magnetic zombie poetry kit from our friends at buyzombie.com

I did hear a ghost. I did! I did! I did? Caffeine and things that *may* go bump in the night

Oh sure. I see you looking at me via the Internet spycams *waves*. I'm knocking back my third cup of coffee and you're thinking, "This woman needs to comb her hair and does she know she still has toothpaste drool on her chin?" Let's put that aside for now. *wipes chin*

La Trobe University in Australia has released a study claiming that participants knocking back copious amounts of coffee (five cups or more a day - child's play) and under stress may hear things that you won't find on Pandora -- like your seventh grade teacher asking for your book report on the worm reproductive cycle. The study asked test subjects to listen to white noise and indicate when 'White Christmas' by Bing Crosby was played. Those with higher levels of caffeine and subjected to more intense stressors (not listed but I'm assuming a five-year-old was involved) were found to boogie to Bing even though the song was never played.

So how does this relate to ghosts? If the investigator is highly focused on finding something - and hopped up on coffee during the night - are they really likely to hear a voice float out from the ether? Or is it the combination of caffeine and the brain making them more susceptible to suggestion?

Or does the caffeine make them more receptive? Hmmmmmm, they didn't cover THAT angle, did they? (not the purpose of the study)

Like any good study, more research is needed. I'll keep you in the loop as always.

Writing is like a 1950s teenage beach flick except with more sex and less friendly dolphins.

Occasionally I get pulled out of my writing time to do more... writing.  Wait. Wha? In this instance, fellow writer and ghost hunting buddy, Susan Utley, asked me to participate in the Box o'Chocolates meme started by her friend, Michelle Simkins.

BoC as explained by Michelle:

Forrest Gump’s momma always said, “Life was like a box of chocolates. You never know what you’re gonna get.” I suppose the same could be said of writing, but . . . since we’re writers, we feel compelled to come up with our own silly comparisons.


Hence the creation of the Box of Chocolates Writing Meme–in which you may compare writing to anything but a box of chocolates.


How does it work? Take the phrase “Writing is like . . .” and finish it. Post it on your blog. Tag three others to do the same. That is all. See how easy that is?

-Michelle Simkins aka Greenwoman.

Susan's phrase was "Writing is like jaywalking. Sometimes you just have to walk outside the lines." Excellent post and yet I went a slightly different route thus mine is:

Writing is like a 1950s teenage beach flick except with more sex and less friendly dolphins.

Let me explain:

1. You arrive at the beach loaded down with stuff you've been collecting from writing class, workshops, and 3rd grade writing competitions about you and a bear (yes, that was me and I freakin' WON that thing). You set up your tiny spot on the beach and settle down with your glaringly bare notebook or just stare at the waves and dream about the huge royalty checks in the mail.
   
   
2. Suddenly you spy a group of groovy writer chicks and dudes down the beach. They're having fun, frolicking in the waves and want you to join them. Look! They speak Elvish! Some of them have funky hand signals but you'll get the hang of it soon enough and  you're cuddling up to a brand new idea torn from the angst of your soul under a blanket and a few too many tequila shots and you're in love. Really, truly, heartbreakingly in love.
   
   
3. After feverish note taking and a few breathless moments after you figure out how the story will reach its peak, you finally get it all down on paper and are ready to share it with your new friends. Some love it to tiny pieces and tell you you're a genius. Others tell you it will never work and you need a real job. But a few brave writers step up and tell you to look out for the dolphins pooping all over your manuscript and how to fix it. They help you reign in the fluffy bits and write tight.
   
   
4. Drama rears its ugly head like the girl you accidentally knocked into the water as you start to send it out to agents and editors. The dolphins are back and they're pissed. Revise! Retreat!
   
   
5. Go back to the beach, eat some toasted marshmallows and re-write, my friend. Begone, dolphins!
   
   
6. Submit, rinse and repeat until- acceptance! Bongos are going crazy in the background and someone has busted out the limbo stick.
   
   
7. Look forward to the bigger dance party with fruity drinks with umbrellas in them.
   
   
8. While you're boogying with your latest idea, don't be surprised to see another hot piece of inspiration at the bar. You'll get to him in a minute...
   
   
9. Go back to the beach the next year with your book in hand and smile at the new writer settling down next to you. When asked, advise them to look out for dolphins and wink at the camera.

To keep in the spirit of the meme, I'm to tag three dolphinless writers:

1. Melanie Hooyenga
2. Adam Slade
3. Beth Bartlett