Stanley Tucci cast in 'The Hunger Games'

Stanley Tucci cast in 'The Hunger Games'

by Karen Valby

In a move bound to delight even the most wary of Hunger Games fans, Lionsgate announced today that Stanley Tucci (The Devil Wears Prada) will play smooth-talking interviewer Caesar Flickerman in the film adaptation. Flickerman is a pivotal supporting player throughout Suzanne Collins’ best-selling trilogy. It is he who’s charged with introducing Jennifer Lawrence’s Katniss Everdeen, as well as all the other tributes, to the Capitol audience. If the tributes are able to ingratiate themselves upon the audience in their brief time with Flickerman, they up their chances of survival.

Flickerman cuts a garish figure — in the 74th Hunger Games, his hair, lips, and eyelids are dyed powder blue and he wears a blue suit peppered with blinking lights — and, like most in the Capitol, has had extensive plastic surgery. The Hunger Games goes into production this month and will be in theaters March 23, 2012.

Escape from Sanity

Sometimes life throws you a few curves.  Even in just a day! We all have our way of escaping.  Some people have a glass of wine with dinner, some listen to music, some exercise, and I like to go to Barnes and Noble and skim through books.  I find that the books in the children's area make me smile and remember when life was so simple.  I love the brightly colored scribbled cartoons and the pages with swatches of texture, feeling the patch of soft velvet.  It reminds me of my childhood, spending hours engrossed in a book, dead to the world.

Strolling through the "Marketing" section I decided to gain some insight and picked up a few books.  I made my way over to a few wooden chairs in the corner.  I hunkered down for reading.  A book about marketing to women was fascinating, I was so enthralled I almost didn't notice a "gentleman" sit next to me.  He squirmed to get comfortable and let a little gas slip out.  I glanced at him through the corner of my eye.  He didn't seem phased.  It was an accident, it happens.  I continued to read and he decided to unleash.  Now I did the full head turn combined with a steady dirty look.  He still didn't seem to be concerned.  That was enough.

I escaped to another area and walked through the "Self Improvement" section.  I noticed a woman whose face was all flushed from crying.  Then I realized it was my friend "Christie" that I had met through other friends in Vegas. I vividly remember her coming back to the hotel room with blood gushing from her forehead.  She mumbled that she had been hit in the head with a Police baton, but didn't explain as to why.

I was startled seeing someone I knew in my area of town.  It was an unexpected surprise.  I asked what was wrong.  She hesitated and then decided to mentally "unleash".

She revealed that she was living in the Psych unit and decided to walk out.   She walked a few blocks to this Barnes and Noble.  She told me that she was raped.  Then she told me she had a miscarriage.  Then she told me that she had driven to a Buddhist monk temple in Los Angeles. Then drove back to live in the Psych unit.  Her story had so many twists and turns I was lost.

I figured she had been through so much in life and mistreated by men that she didn't know what reality was anymore.  I bought her a hot chocolate and convinced her to go back and continue getting help.

I put her in my car and drove her back.

As I watched her walk into the Psych building, she quickly ran back to my open car window and made me promise to come and play dodge ball with her and the other group in the ward.  I agreed, picturing myself running around getting nailed with a large rubber ball.  She happily skipped back into the building.

Christie literally needed an escape that day and found a few hours of peace at Barnes and Noble, a friend and a cup of hot coco.

Alice In Wonderland

I'm still debating what to call this particular suit.  Alice in Wonderland, Jackie O, or the  Blue Bow?

The Paris with Peekaboo Shorts

Venice Beach Bikini

Looking Forward to Friday

Can it be really happening?  This Friday I will be receiving the finished samples to my swimsuit designs.  It's been a long process to get this far.  The sampling phase is a practice run for the production company before they go into doing a "run" or producing the suits in quantity.  It has taken me about three to four months to actually find a company in the United States that had advanced sewing techniques to be able to sew the underwire and bra cups into each piece. 

The next few steps will be both time consuming and nerve racking, but I'm determined to get through it and find myself on the other side, swimsuits in hand!  I'm planning/hoping for a soft launch to the public in July and for retailers this fall. 

I can't tell you how excited I am to see the commerically finished suits!  It's like having one of my paintings come to life!  I will post pictures of the samples soon.....

Sometimes You Must Set Yourself on Fire

A loud inhuman wail came from the kitchen.  I froze.  I peered around the corner to see where the sound was coming from.  Inaudible voices softly murmured. I could see my grandmother standing away from my father  her hands placed firmly on her hips.

I had never seen my father cry like this.  His breathing erratic through his deep sobs and free-flowing tears.

Suddenly he slammed his fist on the counter, making my grandmother jump.

"Why would you do this? Don't you love all your children?" He said with a tormented expression while gazing at my grandmothers face. Searching for empathy. Understanding.

His fist shoots into the air, trying to battle an unseen monster.

Silence.

"You have given me nothing. The last thing you could do is leave what you have to your children. " He vehemently spits the words. Years of boxed up fury.

It seems in my grandmother's household, not all children are loved equally.

My father played the role of the dutiful and caring son, while hiding the neglect.

This Trust and Last Will was one last punishment for daring to start his own life and leaving.

Leaving her.

He slammed his fist against the counter.  Grandmothers arms raised defiantly across her chest.

He knew this outburst was fruitless.  She made him feel like that tiny helpless boy again.  Embarrassingly wearing the same soiled jeans for years at school, being tormented by his classmates. His mother amazingly not seeing his need for affection or care.

This was her last chance to provide for her family.  To bring peace. If she had said she was sorry he would have forgiven her.

But she stared past him, seeming to examine the knick-knacks on the wall.

Viewing this indifference, his face steamed to a blustery red.

Screaming, "Why won't you listen? Why don't you love us equally? " Shouting everything that he wasn't supposed to bring out of the darkness.  It was as if he had unlocked the family safe, pulled out its contents and set it all on fire.

A hot brilliant flame she couldn't ignore.

I'm proud of my father for refusing to be a victim and for doing for himself what he needed to do-saying how he really felt.  He will never hear any apologies, but he had all the dirty laundry out in the open and off of his chest.

A Rough Week

This week has been a rough one. I'm sure I will be out of this rut tomorrow, I'm going out with my friend Chris and his friends, I think it will be a fun group and lots of laughs.

I haven't felt like blogging this week. I had a minor procedure at the doctors office, and I didn't feel well for a few days. It was mentally taxing for so many different personal reasons.

The doctor was checking for cancer.

I should have the test results back in two weeks.

She said that it's far off from actually having cancer, but if they find precancerous cells, then I have to go in and have another procedure.

I'm keeping my fingers crossed that I don't have to go back in.

It made me realize how fragile our health can be and that I don't want to ever go back to any doctors office.

Maybe when I can laugh about it, I will post a few funny stories about it and all that happened last week. For now I'm snuggled in blankets watching a movie and snacking on ice cream.

The Mormon Casserole

**I thought I would share with you an excerpt of my essay writing, this one is about my mother's Mormon cooking (sorry mother)**

Another meal she liked to torture us with was broccoli and cheese soup. I remember the day the recipe arrived. Hearing a light knock, I bounded down the stairs, swung open the door and came face to face with Rhonda Eddy. Her unsmiling face greeted me and she looked highly annoyed that I had answered the door, her swollen face staring down as she asked, “Is your mother home?”

“She’s in the bathroom, “ I replied confidently. We continued to stare in silence as I left her plump body standing on the porch, her sunken eyes piercing into my inner thoughts.

Toilet flushing, water running, mom rushed down the stairs, smiling in embarrassment. Ms. Eddy’s neck seemed to appear as she raised her head to greet my mother.

She proudly announced, “I brought you a new recipe to try.” And she slowly slipped a piece of paper past me into my mother’s hand, like she was giving away a top military secret.

My mother read, “Broccoli Cheese soup. “

It was like Hell had opened its’ gates, I just didn’t know it at the time.

My mom was energized to start testing this mystery recipe, because she piled us all into the car, drove to the store, and loaded the cart with the supplies. Lots of Velveeta cheese.

Mom boiled up a batch and strapped my two-year-old brother into his highchair. He couldn’t escape.

Then she began to test it on us.

Immediately there were screams of horror. Moans were heard throughout the room as I glanced at my sister gagging, which made me gag. My brother was smart and started to pour it over his body. A clever toddler method to avoid the concoction.

How could a soup go so wrong?

Then the threats started as we proclaimed our independence, joining together in defiance.

“You have exactly ten minutes to eat the soup! I’m setting the timer” mother threatened crossing her arms and towering over us.

I looked to my older sister for a solution. She looked panicked. Usually she had some clever idea of putting the food in her hand, mashing it, then sticking it under the plate and calmlyu walking the plate to the sink. Soup would be trickier.

She betrayed me. She started to eat it. Then my younger sister followed suit. Traitors.

I was left to my own device. I started to cry. Hoping mother would take sympathy. No such luck. She restarted the timer giving me another five minutes. I cried and squirmed, four minutes disappearing.

Counting down to the last minute. I did not want to be grounded. It was now or never. It was go time. I pulled the heavy spoon up and began to fill my mouth, figuring I could swallow it all at once. I gagged and spit like a rabid dog.

Then it came out my nose. Chunks of broccoli.

Mother was not pleased. By the look on her face and her set jaw, flinching intensed anger. I knew I was grounded.

Time was up. I was sent to my room to face the wall. My stomach started to growl in protest.