In the beginning...
My mother tells me that as a small child I never sat still. I never listened. I never shut up. And I never, ever did a blessed thing she told me to do. Sounds like a Zombie Huntress in the making all right.
I'm about two, this is Easter, and here I am with my sisters. Looks like Dottie and me got bunnies, while Roberta got a purse. Sorry, sis! Don't worry, in later years I'll be getting things like flamethrowers and shotguns, while you can still have pretty stuff. Ah, the perils of being a Zombie Huntress!
The Zombie Huntress commences her formal education. Kindergarten, and all of five years old. Here I am, giving my first official school portrait - the precursor of many mug shots - the solemnity the occasion deserves.
Screw solemnity! I made second grade! I get to write instead of printing next year! Score!
Another shot from 1965. This is the street I grew up on. There was a woods behind our house, so I learned to track the living dead in all kinds of terrain. I also had a knack for finding poison ivy, I spent every summer of my life itching my fool head off. Check out that zombie killer smile!
Gee, think somebody might grow up to be a vet tech here? The ever patient brown guy is Sharky, the not-so-patient white guy is Augie, and the birds are Swinger and Timmy.
This was my eighth grade picture. Junior high school, a time of discovery. Eighth grade marked my television debut, with an appearance on Junior High Quiz. Three years before, our school had been in the news for our race riots and we were one of the first racially integrated teams on the program. Many people watched us closely, sure that we'd wreak havoc on the set or something, because we had - gasp - black kids on our team. Amazing what a big deal was made back then over something as stupid as skin color.
In May of ninth grade I went to a stylist for the first time and got a 'me' haircut, as opposed to the 50-cent special the country barber gave us when we visited the farm every summer. Unfortunately this happy event happened after we'd gotten our school pictures taken that year.
The Zombie Huntress graduates from high school, at all of sixteen years old! Yeah, I skipped a grade. Somebody was sure anxious to begin wreaking havoc among the living dead!
Reinvention...
So where does a future Zombie Huntress go to find herself? Or is that lose herself? Or is that find herself by losing herself? Well I don't know about other Zombie Huntresses, but this one never does anything halfway.
New York, New York. So good they named it twice.
New city and a whole new me. Where did all that hair come from anyway? This shot was taken on a casting call for a jeans commercial. I didn't get the job, but I got a polaroid to remember the occasion by. My third day in the big city!
Kimm gets a gig! The truth about modeling comes out - it is very uncomfortable. I was scrubbing my face for days after this, but they sure did make me look purty.
Ok, so I hated the hair. As for the pipe, hey, it was still the 70's, man! Smoking pot was VERY in.
I start hitting my Zombie Huntress stride. Leather wardrobe, whips & chains for accessories and the requisite pet tarantula.
Of course, a good Zombie Huntress doesn't just dress the part. She's gotta project that Zombie Huntress Attitude, baby! I could project with the best of 'em. I think it was the chainsaw earring. Or maybe the leather wardrobe. Or the icy, zombie-killing stare. Trouble is, I could never hold the stare. There was always a laugh trying to break itself out of my solid steel attitude. Guess I've got a solid tinfoil attitude.
Continuation...
Nothing is ever finished. People are never static, we never freeze in place and stand still for posterity. The Zombie Huntress, too, is a work in progress.
When I was growing up, marriage was the goal for any well brought up girl. You met your boyfriend in seventh or eighth grade, went steady all through high school and got married the summer after graduation. I was in a complete panic by graduation because I'd never even had a date, much less a steady guy.
Ohmigod, I was gonna be an old maid! Even Zombie Huntresses lose faith sometimes. When that happens, a Huntress can find herself walking down the aisle of a church towards something she KNOWS is a spectacular screwup even as she is saying to herself, "You're not REALLY going through with this, are you?"
At least it was a pretty dress.
A few years later I tried the bride thing again. We went to the Queen's County Clerk's office and I've never been more sure of anything in my life. It was just me and Mike, luckily the waiter from the coffee shop happened to be in the clerks office to sign as our witness or we'd have been witless (or at least witnessless).
The clerk read the ceremony, glaring at us the whole time like we were screwing up his lunch hour even though it was nine in the morning. We ran home, finished packing our bags, and got on a plane for three weeks of Disneyland, Grand Canyon, Lake Powell, souvenir stands, Las Vegas and gorgeous scenery. We sent post cards from Disneyland to my mother, my sister and his parents announcing that we'd gotten married.
My sister congratulated us, the rest stopped talking to us, sure that there had been a party everybody but them had been in on. Really, guys, it was just us. And Billy, the waiter.
One thing I'd always wanted to do was graduate from college. Finally Mike said, "Shaddup about wanting to do it and just do it already. We'll get by." Have I mentioned how much I love this man? In September 1991 I graduated from LaGuardia College, part of City University of New York. I got an Associates in Applied Science in Veterinary Technology. We threw the biggest graduation party in the history of graduation parties, and a wonderful time was had by all. Here I am in corny cap and gown - and extra poundage from the Chinese/Italian buffet where we did way too much studying.
One thing I seem to do a lot of is public speaking. This was taken at Epcot, when I gave a talk at the AZVT conference there. I also presented at AZVT in Santa Barbara and at AVMA in Indianapolis. I've done several talks at LaGuardia College for the Vet Tech organization there and two for NYSAVT in New York. This summer I'm presenting for AZVT again in Toledo. So far nobody has pelted me with rotting vegetation, though I think I came pretty close in Indianapolis. They REALLY hated me in Indianapolis. Maybe I should stop talking about Veterinary stuff and just cover Zombie slayage, huh?
In order to lose weight, I take up bicycling. Since I never, ever do anything halfway, I really really REALLY take up bicycling, and I sign up for the North East AIDS Ride. The Ride is a charity event, which takes place in the ungodly hot month of July and involves the masochistic act of pedaling one's bicycle from New York City to Boston to raise money for AIDS related causes. This is a milestone in my life, and qualifies as the first time the Zombie Huntress truly has a Senior Moment. Here I am at the party they threw for me at work the day before I left to do the ride, when I still actually thought this was 1. A good idea. and 2. A piece of cake. and 3. Survivable.
This was taken the third night of the AIDS Ride. I did a hundred miles that day, and I can't describe how happy I was at the particular moment that Mike snapped this picture. I was happy because I had just racked my bicycle for the night. It had been racked with thousands of other bicycles, and I knew that, with luck, I might never find it again in the morning. Also, Mike had secured a reservation at a hotel - and a restaurant - nearby. First he was going to feed me, and God was I famished. Then we were going to the hotel, where I was going to wallow in the bathtub until I became unconscious, at which time he was going to carry me to the large and very soft king-sized bed. The next day - one way or another - the AIDS Ride would be over FOREVER! I only camped the first night. The second I spent on Keith and Jeanine's couch, the third in that blissful hotel room. The Zombie Huntress does not camp.
Seriously, though, I was DAMN proud of myself. I enclosed a copy of this photo with thank-you notes to everybody who sponsored me on the ride.
I rode and trained with the biggest team on the Ride, team Strong Island. We were also the biggest joke on the Ride, we had the largest percentage of amateur riders and we were constantly filling the infirmary trailers. Still, we were sure game (or was that gamey?) and our battle cry of "Go Strong Island" provoked as much cheering as laughter. And we had great shirts!
Poor Mike. He sat at the finish line in Boston, snapping to attention whenever a Strong Island shirt came over the hill, then was distracted and missed it when I crossed the finish line. He did get a good shot of me walking my bike to the rack though. New York to Boston. By bicycle. In July. Over 40. Beat that for stupid, I dare ya!
Ok, ok, fine, there was the whole "Let's just go up to North Shore and say goodbye to the place" idea. I freely admit that one may have been a bit, um, lacking in foresight. Who could have predicted that there would have been a Buffy there, though? And that they'd actually take her out of the cage and let me hold her? And that she'd sink her teeth into my hand, closing the deal? That's all Marie's fault anyway!