Asking for Help: No I Don't Normally Do This, but...

Some of you may remember my daughter, Gina, from a few posts back. Let me tell you a little about my girl. 

She is a student at a local college, and is in her second year as an English Ed major. Her first love is art, and she paints. She is also a poet, and is, (and I say this not just because I'm her mama) really gifted. 

Her grades are really good, and she loves school. I don't know many people her age who are as dedicated to working in school as she is. She's a bit of an inspiration and builds my hope that there are a few folks in her generation who might possible be able to take over running the planet when I'm old. 

Here's the Problem

Gina has been trying to get a job for over a year now because the Social Security benefits she'd been getting since her dad died when she was fifteen. She had a bit saved up, but soon because of school, and rent and life, the money was disappearing fast. Unfortunately, the job search has been horribly fruitless. She applies, she interviews, and then...nothing. A few times, she has gotten a chance to work, and then things go south, not because she is messing up...she's not (once again this has nothing to do with me being her mom). The job she had the longest turned out to be a place that was more interested in promoting a possible chance at a reality show than treating their employees right. G was let go because she didn't fit their idea of the kind of girls they wanted on their show. It didn't help that she was vocal about certain inequities (wonder where she gets that from...). 

She was able, for a while, to make money by selling art, and doing and embroidery commissions. Unfortunately, it's often hard to make consistent money doing these things). 

In the last month, she has had to move out of the apartment she shared with her roommates from last year, when she was in the dorms on campus. Right now, she's living rent-free with a friend, but soon, she will have to move home. I'm ok with this. She would rather be out like she's become accustomed to, but reality is that living here may be the best option. It's not that she doesn't want to be here because we are uncool at home or that she thinks she is above living at home. It has more to do with her wanting to find a way to succeed on her own. She is beginning to think she's a failure (I know she's not, and I tell her that she has done fantastically), and I'm worried it's going to impact her studies.

I wouldn't even talk about this except that the kid has really tried. She has financial aid, but that's not enough. I can help a little, but as a single mom with two kids and lots of bills, I can't really bail her out like a lot of parents are able to do. I do purchase her groceries most months, and help out with things like clothes and shoes. 

Help...Please?

One thing that neither of us are really good at is asking for help. We are independent women, and want to succeed on our own steam. Sometimes, however, the independent woman has to realize that she needs extra help keeping things going. I can tell you that she is not a kid who goes and blows money on partying or clubbing or ridiculous things. This money will go for things like gas for her car, books for classes, and other basic living expenses. 

The other day, one of our artist friends (Lindsay Archer, who is a gifted painter) asked for help raising funds for a new computer on a site called fundrazr.com. I did a little research, and discovered that this site supported raising funds for people who needed financial help of any kinds, which is a little different than sites like Kickstarter (which is really awesome but is for projects-based fund raising and not personal "help me, God" fund raising). I suggested to Gina that she use fundrazr to pull in some extra money to help float her while she still continued to apply for a job. 

At this point, I'm looking at my millions of readers (I know you're out there) and hoping that you all are as generous as I imagine you are. Many of you only know me because you've stumbled on my blog, I know this.  Others follow me on twitter or maybe you are in that group of my readers who do know me and my little family personally and know the situation up-close and personal. Understand that I won't hate you or drop you or block you if you don't help out. It's your call. You know what you can or can't do.

Let me go ahead and say thank you.

Click here: Fund for My Fae Child 

An Old Whovian is Witness to the Formation of a New Whovian!

"Hello, I'm the Doctor..."

Go ahead. Click the video. I'll wait. Even if you know this guy, you should click and watch. Mouth the speech with him. You know you want to.

One of the many characters I love is The Doctor from Doctor Who. How can you not love a guy who travels in time and space in an old British police box from the 1960s? This year, BBC is celebrating 50 years of Doctor Who. As a long time fan, I'm beyond excited. What's even better is that my bestie, Amanda, has finally, finally discovered The Doctor for herself! It's so awesome!

Soooo...audience, meet The Doctor. Doctor, meet my millions of followers. 

You Never Forget Your First Doctor

There is a saying inside the Who Fandom, and that is "you never forget your first doctor." We say it because it is true. I've never met a fan who can't tell you the first time they watched the show or which Doctor they watched. My first Doctor was Tom Baker, who was the Fourth regeneration. My friend, Jon and his brother, Michael (I think Michael was probably more insistent) sat me down one Saturday night in 1983, turned on our local PBS station and said, "You must see this." The station was running "Ark in Space," which is the second episode in Mr. Baker's long term as The Doctor. It was so much fun (you have to appreciate a space worm made from spray painted bubble wrap)!  I was hooked. Many Saturday nights were spent sitting up, watching The Doctor and his companions face many challenges and adventures. I was devastated when Atlanta's PBS stations dropped my Doctor after a dispute with a local fan group. It would be a little over a decade later when I'd see the Doctor again, and that was when I started collecting Doctor Who DVDs. 

Very few people knew about the Doctor here in the states, so there weren't lots of people to talk to about this character who had captured my heart. 

I also found that no other regeneration really stood up to Four in my mind. All were measured against him and his adventures. Most of them fell short (although, I do have a soft spot for Three [Jon Pertwee]). When the new series came to America in 2005, I was not so sure. FOX tried rebooting the series in 1997, and it was less than stellar in my book (interestingly, however, that Doctor is accepted into the overall mythos and is currently the Doctor with the most radio adventures available. Shows what I know.). 

Fast Forward to 2005:

Ironically, it was my bestie who invited me over to her house on premier night for the new Doctor Who with Christopher Eccleston as The Doctor. I think I cried just a little bit during the intro. It was so exciting for me because it was as if I'd been waiting for the Doctor to return to me, and he had, finally! 

 While I was squealing over the continuity and the connections to Classic Who (the Autons and Nestene Consciousness!), she seemed more than a little confused. I was, on the other hand, completely hooked. It was awesome! Unfortunately, I did not have cable or satellite at the time, so when my friend, Josh, offered me DVDs of the new series about a year or so later, I jumped at his offer.

I really loved Christopher Eccleston as the Doctor. He was darkly sarcastic and I liked that turn of the character. My Doctor had been through a lot since I last saw him, including watching his home planet, Gallifrey, be destroyed in a great war (a destruction, we would learn, he blamed himself for). I also loved the writing. The scripts were strong, and the special effects didn't overshadow the action or the character growth. Doctor Who came back stronger than ever!

Then there was David Tennant! I finally found a Doctor who measured to my beloved Fourth Doctor! I fell in love with him. He was manic and infectious and, for the first time, The Doctor was really...sexy! The writing was phenomenal, and my love for the show was completely rekindled. 

I would talk about the show, Amanda would listen, but I don't think she ever watched...until a few weeks ago...

"Mini-Golf and Sushi" or How My Bestie Fell for The Doctor:

Mr. Bates. Lord Grantham's Valet. 

Amanda and I share a love for another BBC show. It's a little costume drama called Downton Abbey. Maybe you've heard of it? She got me hooked on it this time last year. This year, we counted the days before the premier on PBS.  We both have a thing for this guy----------------->

The series started, and both of us sort of went into a fan frenzy. I posted "Free Bates" pictures on Facebook, and she searched the Internet for more information on Brendan Coyle, who plays Mr. Bates. Something you need to understand about Amanda is that she takes Internet research to levels I only dream of taking it. I am a very good researcher, but she is as close to Internet Geek Goddess as I know. It's mindblowing.

Soon, she'd discovered other BBC programmes (as they spell it across the pond), and then proceeded to go on a BBC programme binge. It was sort of funny (in a very good way!).

One evening she called me and said, "I think I'm finally going to try Doctor Who. The new series is on Netflix." 

I replied, "'Bout time." Then I told her if she needed help getting the mythos or anything, to let me know. Otherwise, enjoy. 

Little did I know what was going to unleash in her. 

Things were pretty calm as she watched Chris Eccleston. 

Then came David Tennant. 

I'd follow this Doctor
anywhere in the Universe

I am a mad fangirl, and would be speechless if I met Mr. Tennant...at least for a few moments. Amanda went full-on fangirl. It was so awesome! Finally, she got my love. Finally, she'd really found her Doctor. 

Fangirls, UNITE!

What has been the most fun about her discovery is that she will text me or send me links concerning David Tennant or the Doctor. We both get to squeal like school girls! What I love the most is that she seems to get so much enjoyment out of a show I've loved for so long. This is what best friends do. They share their addictions. 

And so, as the Tenth Doctor was (is, will be) apt to say:

Lucky for the two us (and for the rest of you who love the Doctor), we don't have to be the girls who wait (for the Doctor). Starting this Sunday night at 9 pm, BBCAmerica is running the first of eleven specials celebrating Doctor Who's Fiftieth (yes, you read that correctly) Anniversary. Each episode gives the history of each Doctor. 

My Kids Fight with Rubber Swords

Anti-Soccer Mom

I am a part of that generation where the majority of women with children have become "soccer moms." These women drive their kids to practice and games and sell items to make it possible for their kids to go to more practices and games. They hang out with other moms who are also "soccer moms." While I'm a part of this generation, I am not a "soccer mom." I used to call myself the "anti-soccer mom, " mostly because my kids (a) weren't soccer players and (b) because of that, I could not hang with the soccer moms. It became a point of pride. I'm not like "them." Nope not at all. 

My kids are now teens, and while the other moms are still driving around, watching games, and chatting on fields far and wide, I, instead, watch my kids (or rather kid---my fairy child is at college not far away) drive off for weekends, not to play soccer or football or other such things. 

Instead, my kids LARP;therefore, I am a LARP mom!

What is This LARP you speak of?

LARP means Live Action Role Play. I can already see some of you cringing, crossing yourselves or having flashbacks to that old Tom Hanks tv movie Mazes and Monsters:

LARPing can take lots of forms, and there are several LARPS here in Georgia that present all sorts of scenarios for those who want to take table top role play to a new level. Some LARPs fully immersive (which means that they dress in period dress [medieval in their case] and when they fight, they use unpadded rubber weaponry---people can get hurt), like the one my kids are a part of, and some involve people tapping each other with padded weapons. Some are set in medieval times, or have magic or are even post-apocalyptic. 

Suffice to say this isn't what Tom Hanks was doing in 1982. 

LARP Mom

Geri the Ottlander discovers the Internet

My kids have been doing this about a year. That makes me a LARP mom. I listen to their adventures, root for them not to die each month, and help them with their garb (I've knitted a few things for them to wear while in play). Unlike soccer moms, I cannot sit on the sidelines and scream things like, "Take him out, Geri! Put that sword up his..." or "That's MY girl! She's a lady and a surgeon!" Instead, I hug them as they leave for a weekend and tell them not to get killed or piss off any Lords. I also have a lot of days when I walk into my son's room and see this sort of thing:

Conclusion

Now, I'm not saying that being a LARP mom is any better than being that soccer mom in a minivan driving all over the Metro area (whatever Metro area you are driving in). It's just different. How many moms can say that their son won an archery tournament over a weekend, or that their daughter saved the lives of most of the women in her village while baking pie over an open fire?

What I've seen come out of my kids LARPing is sort of amazing. My bear child, has become more confident and has started learning what he's good at. My daughter has learned more about how much she can endure as well as growing her cooking skills and political skills. Both have learned about being social and taking care of one another (you do not want to face them if one is threatened, trust me on this). In the end, they have found a place where they have fun. That's sort of the point, isn't it? 

Encounter at Sears Part 2 (My Take on This Matter)

It Started So Innocently:

Yesterday, I went boot shopping for Gina, who needed a replacement pair. It seems that her old pair finally lost its sole and so I decided to get her a new pair for her birthday. We visited several places, but ended up at the mall, which was not my first choice. Still, we decided that it was our last hope of finding something that she liked and was in her size (she has tiny, tiny feet making the venture even more challenging).

            We entered the mall through the Sears entrance. Sears always takes me back to the 1970s, when I was a kid. I spent a lot of time in Sears with my dad when I was a kid because he was and is a man who worked with his hands and built furniture. The layout of any Sears store has stayed the same since that time, so you end up feeling like you’ve travelled through time. No matter what Sears you enter there are always two things that are certain—the scent of tires and a department filled with Craftsman tools. This Sears is no exception.

            Now, readers, we all know that Craftsman tools have a pretty common color scheme—red, black, gray—you know---the colors some deem to be “man” colors (if you are a fan of Parks and Recreation, then you can probably even imagine Ron Swanson owning several boxes of these tools in “man” colors. He is so manly.).  I guess this makes sense since “man” is part of the brand name.

            Imagine our surprise yesterday when we entered the hardware department of Sears at our local mall and saw boxes and tools of a different color:

 How Will You Use Your Pink Box?

Gina and I stopped and stared. Then we both started giggling. Gina said, “It’s like they think if we pick up regular tools we might just set on fire!” More giggling. I knew this sort of thing had been going on with tools, but to see it right there on the shelf in front of me was just too funny. We then searched the department for other instances of pink-i-fied tools. It seems that Sears wanted a one-stop-shop for women looking to make a fashion statement with their tools because that was the only end-cap with tools of that color. I love the sign at the top of the end-cap:


Apparently, who ever created the signage certainly didn’t think women used tools for any serious tool-using moments at her house despite the box and wrenches and pliers hanging on the end cap yesterday. The salesman wandered up as we began taking pictures, probably because we were giggling a bit too loud, were taking pictures,  and, more importantly,  he was bored. He told us that usually the cap was filled with other tools besides the ones we noted. I wanted to ask if women actually purchased these things or if men purchased them for their women. I wish I had.

            What makes any marketer think that a woman will purchase a tool based on the fact that it’s pink or any other “female” color? I know when I’m trying to hammer a nail into the wall or screw my new desk together or change a tire, the first thing I think of is definitely, “Oh no! I can’t do this job! I have no pink tools! Let me call one of my many male friends. I don’t want to set on fire because I used tools that weren’t pink.” 
            Also notice the question on the sign: “How will you use your Pink Box?” The first answer on the bottom border is make-up.  Really?! Is there some marketing guru who actually thinks that I will spend $599 on a pink metal box with ball bearing slides and store my make-up in it?!

            After we took pictures and giggled for about fifteen minutes, we left talking about the whole idea that someone thought it would be a good thing to market things that should be not-gender-specific as things that are gender-specific. It hit me that whoever created this idea was probably from my generation. This frustrated me a bit.

Talking 'Bout My Generation:

            My generation was raised watching Gloria Steinem burn bras and march for the ERA (Equal Rights Amendment). We were told that women had as much right as men to hold positions of power and importance, and that we could do anything if we wanted to do it bad enough. We were the generation who saw women go into space and break the glass ceiling. Our generation was supposed to be the generation that saw the day where our gender didn’t matter.

            And yet, my generation creates tools that are pink and marketed toward women. It also creates Legoâ play sets especially for girls that don’t work with the blocks or sets built for boys.

            I realize that it is a small thing. Pink is a good color and girls do need toys, right? I just don’t understand why it is that we have to continue to create these boxes for ourselves. If I need a hammer, making it pink isn’t going to be a motivating factor for purchasing that hammer. If I need a tool belt, I want something sturdy and pocketed properly, not a couple of pink canvas bags strung together with a canvas belt. When I see this sort of thing in a hardware department, I don’t feel special (like I think the marketer would think I’d feel). I feel marginalized.

            Shouldn’t we know better? Did we learn nothing growing up? 

Encounter at Sears (with Guest Poster, Gina, My Faery Child)

A Note before We Begin:

For this post, we have a guest! I asked her to help me with this post because I thought it might be interesting to see her POV as well as mine. Lucky for me (and for you), she had time between classes to write her bit, and share her ideas. 

Gina's Post:

So mother dear and I were wandering out of the mall the other day and found ourselves walking through the Sears tool section towards the exit. Suddenly, our eyes were affronted by a wall of bright pink. 

It was your average array of tool and tool kits, made special just for us ladies. Ain't that sweet?  They weren't smaller to suit our hands better, or in any way different from the men's tools aside from the color. I'm all for removing gender from color. If a man wants a hot pink hammer, good for him. My issue is that it was clearly marketed to women, as if we'd burst into flames upon touching a "man's tool" (if you listen to my old Bible teachers, we would, but I think they meant something else).

Not only was the color an affront to my Wednesday Addam's sense of aesthetic, they threw in a lovely caption for the toolbox. They suggested we use it to store make up and craft supplies! Possibly in conjunction with the tools, I'm not sure. Nothing says DIY like a mani-pedi break, right? 

Note how the identical men's kit beside this Barbie's-first-tool-kit display, lacks such a suggestion.

I'm not saying I wouldn't use the toolbox for an alternative purpose. It does look very suitable for my outrageous collection of embroidery thread and makeup, but I don't need some marketing team to sit there and tell me that they don't even believe I'd be interested in using the tools. I imagine they envision their market to be pinup girls who pose coyly beside the new entertainment center husband dear has erected, or who serves martinis on the new deck. 

I'm not bashing women who live that lifestyle, oh no. I sort of envy it. What I'm bashing is condescending marketing techniques. What's next? A pink lawn mower they advertise as a great way to get a tan? Come on. Some women (and men) like pink tools, some women actually use tools, and that's awesome. What's super not awesome is the assumption that I'll fall to my knees in ecstasy like a little girl who just got an Easy Bake oven because it's pink.

I have one thing to say to these poor misguided marketing people. Bite me.

My post is forthcoming...

Kissing the Roof of Georgia

Beautiful North Georgia Mountains

Adventure Time!

Yesterday was a very good day. While most of you dragged yourselves out of bed and off to work or school, I dressed warmly, gathered my camera, laced my boots and headed out to meet my friend Bryan Thompson (some know him as IK, King of the Trolls) and Gina to go on what Bryan termed "a day of adventure." This trip was in payment for some editing that I did for a book that Bryan has written (more on this and the webseries he's involved in very soon). Now I know that most editors don't take payment in the form of adventures, but this editor does sometimes. In this particular case, I know that the writer's idea of adventure is something that is worth accepting when offered. So the three of us took off in his green Explorer with 240,000+ miles on it, and headed north.

Magic in the Air

I have always and forever been a beach girl. The ocean is one of the most calming places I know. As I've gotten older (no, I'm not that old, seriously), I've become more and more fond of North Georgia. There is something about going up into areas that still look like my childhood and where the air is clear. We headed to Chatsworth, Georgia and after lunch, the Explorer rolled through the gateway of what I think of as the roof of Georgia.  Technically, this thought is incorrect (the highest point in Georgia is Brasstown Bald at 4,784 feet above sea level where Fort Mountain [where we went] is only 4,163 feet above sea level), but I'm the author of this blog, and so for me it was like being on the roof of Georgia. 

Fort Mountain is amazing in that it is part natural, part archeological and part anomaly. It is part of a beautiful forest of trees and rock. While we were there, we saw four or five deer, who all seemed focused on eating and getting out of our way. The air was pure and silent. I could hear my inner chatter calm down a bit. I think my mind was shocked by the quiet. On the mountain is a peak with a strange stone wall/formation/fort. The plaques tell a story of strange visitors who built the fort. You can almost see the warriors standing guard against...who knows. The area is eerie. I kept searching for logic. Why is this wall there? What sort of force would call for a fort like this in the middle of what would have been dense forest? The rocks told me nothing. What makes the mountain an anomaly is that there is a ley line on the mountain. This itself in not unusual. What is unusual is that the ley line energy runs up the mountain instead of down. Now I know that some of you will think this is nonsense, but just keep reading.

The best part of the visit was yet to come. We climbed beyond the fort. Up and up. Then we found the tower. This is a fairly youthful tower that was built in the 30s to watch for fires. Whoever built it had the foresight to make it look medieval. Bryan led us on, speaking the history and stories of the mountain.

Then there was the platform. 

I am not a fan of heights. I like to pretend they don't bother me, but there are times when I'm mortified, like when I ride the cable cars at Stone Mountain (another mountain south of Atlanta. It's made of granite). If you manage to get me on the cable car, you have to just accept that I will end up on the floor whimpering. All I can see is that cable snapping like a tiny string and slinging the car into the air only to crash down on the country store at the bottom of the mountain. 

My daring faerie child

I say all of this because the platform was different. I wasn't frightened as I walked out onto the platform that was build off the edge of the mountain. The drop was massive. The side of the mountain is encrusted with granite boulders. Gina was bold and went to sit on a rock on the side of the mountain. It was like she was at home. 

All I could do is stare and gape. Bryan calls it his "church." I've been in lots of churches in my time, but this isn't just a church. It's a cathedral. It's the rafters above the cathedral. For a moment or two or three, I kept feeling that I could reach up and touch the curve of the sky. I wondered how close I was to the edge of the atmosphere. The longer I stayed, the less I wanted to return. Later, Bryan asked me if I had felt anything funky. 

Define "Funky"

When he asked me this question, I wasn't completely sure how to answer. I believe many things that I cannot see or prove. Funky could indicate any number of things, and I wasn't sure I had felt anything funky per se. Gina is the one who usually discovers the funky parts of places. I'm fairly mundane in comparison.

What I felt was peace, calm, and contentedness. I felt open in a way that I don't often feel. This is a feeling I get at the beach when it is empty of other people. It's the feeling I get when I camp and wake up before the sun rises. The weight of being a 21st century person dropped for just a little bit. I knew why he called it church because in those moments, it was my church too.

I don't consider this funky. These are things I crave. 

Gifts of the Adventure

Like every good adventure, there are tokens we bring back. Gifts that mark the adventure as its own special goodness. This adventure was no different. Yes, this trip was intended as payment for a job well done, and I was happy for the chance. What I didn't expect was to have a chance to really reconnect with a friend who had been through lots with me and while we went separate directions. The real gift in this adventure was the pleasure of saying things that needed to be said and remembering good and bad things that have happened along the way. It was replacing what we thought we knew about one another with what we actually are as individuals.

Yesterday was a reminder that I am surrounded by people who consistently blow my socks off. Bryan blows my socks off. Gina blows my socks off. The mountains were part of the funky magic that amplified this knowledge. Maybe this will float me for a little while as I re-enter the classroom where my creativity and calm is challenged daily. Maybe I'll just close my eyes and transport myself to that aerie where I kissed the roof of Georgia and the mountain held me closely and comforted me for a few moments. 

Transitional Life

Gina has been staying at the house the last few days, mostly because she is in transition. She had to move from the apartment she'd been renting with her roommates from freshman year of college. It's a frustrating time. She has not been able to find a job, and her money is running low. I'm not in a way to really help her either, which is frustrating for me.

We were packing and moving her stuff from the apartment yesterday, and she looks at me at one point and says, "I've just realized that next year, I'll be twenty. I will no longer be a teenager. I feel old." Both of us stared at each for a moment, she worrying about not being a teenager, and me thinking, "How the hell does she get off thinking SHE'S the one who's old?!"

I watch her and Stuart and know that I am in transition. That's what parenting is, really. Transition. The first transition is rough. You move from being able to go to the Waffle House with your friends at 2 am and then stay up till dawn discussing how your generation will save the universe with rubber bands, to being up at 2 am feeding this tiny person who speaks in coos and howls and poops at the drop of a hat.

After the initial transition, you must make a decision. Are you going to be there for this tiny poop and tears machine, or are you going to attempt to continue the ol' WaHo routine with your friends? Most of us choose the former, and are ok with that. When we choose the former, we are choosing transition.

So we move from this person being tiny and helpless and needing you each moment to this same person looking at you saying, "I'll be twenty and an adult. I feel old."Every transition is leading to this moment.

I still catch myself doing things that indicate that my children are, well, children. I still need them to call me when they go places (thankfully, they are good about doing it for the most part) so I know they are safe. I still tell them not to do anything stupid that will change the course of their lives. What is lovely, however, is that they put up with all of this, and my transition to accepting their adulthood and autonomy from me is made easier.

I really don't mind them becoming grown ups. It's kind of cool. I can now transition to my new life as well. I'm not sure I can go back to the WaHo Save the World All Night Long discussions, but I can try to discover myself in new ways. Maybe I might actually become a grown up too.

God, I hope not.

Prologue: Just So Everyone Begins with an Understanding

Setting:

I live with my family in a small town just north of Atlanta in the house that I was raised in. This town used to be a one-light town, but has grown and changed quite a bit. I've watched a good portion of the places I remember from childhood be destroyed or change significantly. It is still rural, but just barely. 

Cast O'Characters:

It's a dramedy, so there has to be cast, right? Here's the deal. Most of the time I will mention people by their first names only to protect (haha) the innocent (not like any of you are innocent). In some cases, I will mention people by descriptors (for instance, if there is an attractive man to walk through a scene, I may well call him "Sexy Guy with Coffee" [after all, your sex appeal goes up exponentially if you have a cup of coffee, or, in some cases if you bring me a cup of coffee]).

If at any time you recognize yourself, don't be shocked and start messaging me about how shocked you are that I mentioned you or how cute you are as you walk away from me.  You shouldn't be shocked. I'm a writer, and you are my friend. This sort of thing is inevitable.

Ok. On with my "regulars":

Amanda or My Bestie: 

She is my best friend and fellow single girl (guys, she's awesome btw). We have lots of ridiculous moments. She's also known me since high school, so she knows all my dirt.

Gina or My Faerie Child: 

My eldest child. College student, artist, and mad woman. She made me crazy and wise and...yeah, mostly crazy, and I love her to pieces. We share lots of geek moments, including deep squeeing over things like Doctor Who, Sherlock, and socks. 

Stuart or My Bear Child:

My dear only son. Senior in high school, warrior, and budding craftsman. He is my anchor, and my heart and soul (while Gina is my lungs and liver). We share things like a love for comic books and games.

Mom and Dad:

I live with my parents. It's...special. There are times I am so very thankful for them taking us in almost sixteen years ago. There are other times when I question the sanity of accepting their offer for assistance.

Paul:

My brother who lives in Texas and is generally an awesome human being. He's also a World-Class Smart Ass, and really funny guy. I'm not sure how he missed becoming a stand-up comedian. 

There are others who will be mentioned:

Melissa or My Friend and Co-Author:

Melissa and I are working on a novel together. It is going to be awesome. We hope to have a table at Dragon*Con one day, and maybe, just maybe, get to have a chance to flirt with Nathan Fillion, Joss Whedon, and Wil Wheaton all at once because we are just that awesome. We'll even sign a copy of our book if you drop by and are cute. 

Elaine and Rob: 

They are in love and engaged, and for some reason they love me and mine to pieces. I'm glad for this. They are good people.

Willena:

We met in grad school and still managed to stay friends. Now we are co-workers and go to an Atlanta area large church. Sometimes I'm not exactly sure how we deal with each other because we are both terribly opinionated.

Kathy:

We also met in grad school and share a love for a local band. Kathy is very sweet, and I often wonder why she puts up with me because I am not. We work in the same suite.

Frank:

He's young, he's attractive, and believes he is the 21st century incarnation of Don Draper/James Bond.  This is a deadly combination when you are an English professor (aren't all male English professors supposed to be all of those things?). We also work in the same suite.

Ashley:

The one person on the suite who can remind Frank that while he is young and attractive, he really is no Don Draper or James Bond. She's also an excellent cook, for the record (am I your favorite now, Ashley?).

IK, King of the Trolls:

Yes. I really know the King of the Trolls. Yes. He's really a Troll and he's really a King. Why do you doubt me? My daughter is a faery, and my son is bear. 

Other people will join cast as necessary. Once again, don't be surprised if you show up in a post. 

Plot:

So, what am I going to write about? Things I find interesting that I encounter or think or events that happen along the way. If you are here to read about the "juicy" parts of this dramedy, move on. My life is really interesting and occasionally curious, but you will not learn about certain aspects. If you are lurking around the edges of this blog hoping to gather information about me or your own family members, move on. Really. Some things are just not going to be talked about here.

My dramedy is a mixture of what I think is funny (haha and weird) and just general things from my life that I deem interesting. 

Rules for Reading and Engaging with This Blog:

• This blog is one view of life as this blogger experiences it. If you don't like what you read, move on. There are a million more "day in the life of" blogs (including my brother's blog, A Day in the Life...). Surely, one of them will not offend or bore you. The Internet is your oyster.

• Comments are encouraged and expected. Understand that I am monitoring your comments, and that I have to approve them before they go up. This is not me being a control freak, but rather protecting my property and making sure that this party is safe for everyone. If you have any thought of sending spam or flaming me or my friends or fellow commenters, just know you shall not pass. 

• Share this blog with friends. I'm not making money off this blog. I'm not going to end up on a talk show. There is no cute mascot fronting an advertising campaign for my blog. Readership depends on you, my friends. Post links, reference me on Facebook (yes, I'm shameless) or Twitter. The thing that makes a blog (any blog, even the cheap knock off blogs) work is for there to be a writer (me) and readers (plural. you. ALL of you.). Even if you share this blog just because you want to make fun of it, I'm ok with that. At least you are reading, and I'm not just shooting this thing out into empty space.
  
• I most likely won't post every day. I teach. I'm a mom. I fight crime (ok. Technically, that's not true. I did, once, fight crime, but that was a different, fictional life.). I knit (incidentally, I sell my knitting too. More on that later). I also write a mini-blog called Lamentations of the Instructor, which a handful of people follow and think is funny. It is a three day a week blog, and is growing along nicely, thank you. Finally, I'm working on a novel with a friend. My life is busy. Some of that busyness will get shared with you if you are kind and patient.
  
  
• Finally, have fun with this. I plan to have fun. I'd hate to attempt this fun all on my lonesome. Enjoy. After all it's a dramedy.