So yeah, me and my brother fell on some hard times. We’re kinda on the small side for faery types, and it used to be that we had this good deal workin down on the docks, you know, kinda just kept an eye on ships while their crews went out to enjoy the pleasures of the port and all. And maybe captains what didn’t hire us had problems findin their ships the next day. It was a good gig.

Funny thing about that kinda work, though, you got just one ship that gets sunk and everybody gets all bent outta shape and stuff. (Lou wants me to tell ya that first it burned, then it sank, and I want Lou to shaddup and let me tell the story. Lou says we don’t always get what we want, and I told Lou he was gettin to wantin my fist in his face. Lou prudently decided to shaddup.)

Point bein, we was broke as a joke, so we snuck into this cobbler’s shop and hid out. (Lou’s remindin me that we was kinda chased into the cobbler’s shop and was hidin out there on account of some folks that wanted to see if eatin faeries is good for yas. Hint- we don’t know, and we didn’t wanna find out if you could survive travelin through the innards of a human type.)

Now we ain’t never been any great shakes at magic, but me and Lou, we gets by, mostly by turnin our hands to whatever task comes around and doin the best we can at it. Since we was layin low anyway, we started watchin about this leather workin business. And you know? It turned out that cause we was smaller, we could do pretty good work, a lot more dainty and delicate and whatnot.

We practiced on scraps we borrowed, since this cobbler guy was just about as freakin broke as we was. He was sellin every pair of shoes he made just as he made ‘em. And while me and Lou ain’t exactly the most admirable characters you’d ever meet, we wouldn’t steal from someone even broker than we were. It’s like bad karma and stuff.

This one night, we hears the cobbler tell his wife that that’s it, they’s out of money, they only got enough makings for one more pair of shoes and that’s it, they are gonna starve.

Well me and Lou couldn’t stand for that (especially considerin we were livin off their crumbs to start with and all, and if they starved, so was we), and doncha know the cobbler and his wife were so beside themselves that they didn’t put away none of his tools or nothin.

So me and Lou, we knew this was our chance, and we made the finest pair of shoes that hick town ever saw. And then we shined ‘em up real pretty and just hid and waited to see what happened next. 

When mornin came, the cobbler got outta bed, and I tell yas, he was walkin like a man to his funeral when he headed to his workbench. And then he saw them shoes what me and Lou made the night before, and he got all excited and shook his wife awake. Guess they really liked the work we done, cause they kept turnin those shoes over and over in their hands like it was some kinda marvel.

Then they put ‘em out in the window and sure enough, they sold for more money than the cobbler had seen in weeks. 

Now, that cobbler was a careful guy, and he didn’t go blow all his newfound wealth at once. He got a good meal for him and the missus, and then bought more makings for more shoes. And I think he got a little suspicious like, cause even though he left the leather layin on the bench just like before, he kept casting his eyes around behind him. Me and Lou felt a little bad about it, but didn’t come out til our hosts were snorin again.

We had us a tasty meal from the leftovers, then got ourselves settled down to work again. Lou, he hadda be a show off, he started using the scraps of leather we’d been practicin on to put these patterns on his shoes. I thought about stoppin my pair to give him a thrashin for wastin so much time, but I hadda admit, when he was all done, they was the prettiest shoes I’d ever seen, and I almost wanted to get Lou to make me a pair, too.

But he took so long that it was almost sunup when we was yawnin and puttin the last polish on, and we hadda hurry to duck outta sight.

The mornin went just the same, and again, the cobbler was smart, gettin some good food and more leather- and in a lot more colors this time. Lou was so excited he couldn’t hardly sleep for thinkin about what it was he’d do with that when he made the next pairs.

And, the best part, they left out a whole plate of cold ham and cheese and bread and cake, after loudly sayin to the room that they were too full to eats another bite, but maybe they’d want a midnight snack.

So’s, since we had good work and good food, we kept it up. And every day, all them’s shoes we’d made at night sold out! I mean, we was glad for it and all, but it was gettin harder and harder to finish up work before the cobbler and his wife was outta bed.

“Lou,” I said one night as I was stitchin a sole on, “this has been fun and all, but we ain’t makin no money, we’re just caught in the rat race.”

“Vinny, if there’s rat races, we oughta go! Cept.. we ain’t got nothin to bet with.”

Now, you know I love Lou like a brother, cause he is my brother, but there’s no one that’s ever gonna think he’s the brains of the outfit.

“That’s my point, Lou! Every night we work our fingers down to the nubs, but we don’t get no days off or money in our pockets. We just get another day of work.”

“But Vinny, we can’t go and leave ‘em now, they’d starve!”

“I don’t think that’s true, doncha notice that the old man is puttin some coin under the mattress every day? But look here, I think I gotta plan. We could wait up in the mornin, beg pardon for trespassin, and show ‘em how we been doin it so’s they could do it themselves!”

“I don’t know about that, Vin. Some people’s takes trespassin real serious like, and all this food we’s been eatin, well I ain’t sure I could outrun that cobbler’s wife if she decided to come after us with the griddle.”

Sometimes Lou’s got some good points, and after testin out my wings, I noticed I wasn’t even gettin offa the ground, fuggetabout runnin so we sat down and gave the whole idea another think.

Finally I clapped Lou on the shoulder. “Brother, look at what they did to us! We ain’t pickin no pockets in this shape. This was all a part of their ne-far-e-us scheme, doncha see?”

“No, Vin, I ain’t followin ya.”

I put down the shoe I was workin on and laid it all out for him. “They’s was just fattenin us up and lettin us earn our keep this way to keep us from a life of crime! They was tryin to make us go straight!”

Lou gasped. “Why them no good rat finks!”

“I’m tellin ya, Lou, we gotta get outta here before we turns into common house faeries. Maybe if we play it right, they’ll see the errors of their ways and send us off with some of that coin and we can do okay til we find a new business opportunity.”

And that’s how it was that at dawn we was sittin at the kitchen table, ready to have a real serious chat about right and wrong. I’ll tell ya, once I understood the whole sorry plan, I was real disappointed in that cobbler.

They didn’t look too surprised to see us, and when we laid out the whole deal for them, they was very agreeable about the situation. I guess they knew when the jig was up. I didn’t much have the heart to give ‘em the lecture they deserved when the missus started cryin and huggin on us, sayin we’d been so good to them. My stomach started turnin and we hurried and took our leave.

We was out in the street in these real spiffy little suits they’d had made up for us when Lou turned to me. “Say, Vin, can we go see the rat races now that we gots money to bet?”

I threw an arm around Lou’s shoulders. “Sure, buddy. Let’s go find us some work befittin men of our stature.”

And we did, but that’s another story.

Baba Yaga

I want to make it clear- I am only telling this story because I lost a bet with the most annoying little man you have ever laid eyes on. And he nagged and nagged and nagged and then, if you can believe it, he threatened to hex me! The nerve, I tell you.

Always I have kept to myself, and I think there is no crime in it. If someone trespasses upon my doorstep, especially if that someone isn’t one of our kind, I see no harm in using them for my entertainment. Or maybe my dinner. What’s it to you? Not like it was your child, for I am sure anyone that reads this would teach their children better than to go bothering the old hermit woman what lives in a hut standing on chicken legs. 

What? It was what I had in plenty and usually people are smart enough to be a little off put and then we all come out a little more fortunate for the day.

Once, centuries ago, there was a girl who was not taught her manners and had little in the way of common sense. So it was to my door she came begging, for a flame, because boo hoo hoo, her mean stepmother had left them only a single candle and that candle went out and left them all in the dark.

I ask you, who doesn’t see through those kinds of shenanigans? 

It happened that I had some chores that wanted doing, and I am sometimes more curious than I ought to be. Maybe, I think, if this pretty little girl is not smart enough to avoid my home, maybe it is because she is strong or brave. 

So I set her to the tasks, and wait to see how she copes. If she is smart, maybe I keep her, like a pet. I am no queen that is needing of a court, but having a mortal about can be useful from time to time.

Many tasks I set her to, and for days and days she does them, almost like she has a magic of her own. Maybe she is not so smart, but someone is doing her thinking for her, and I began to think that it is that someone I would like to know. I think, too, maybe it is another one of my kind trying to drive me out of my comfortable place and claim it for themselves, so I am being especially cautious to hide my secrets. 

In the meantime, all of the things that would take me time are getting done, and I am able to go further into my woods, where the deeper magics lie. I cast the bones of foresight, and see that this stupid little pretty girl will someday be a queen of her own kind. 

Well! That started the wheels turning in my head, mostly about how blind men are. Then I used the bones to look backward and the whole story came clear. The girl’s father was a fool chasing after a fortune to satisfy a bottomless pit of a woman who drove his child out of his home. But all to no good, for the girl, she had a powerful protection. That piece of the puzzle took some time to figure out- it was her mother, half a fae herself, stuck in a wooden stick in her daughter’s pocket that was trying to save her child. 

Now, the charitable thing to do would have been to spirit the stick away from the girl and set the mother free into a new body. The wise thing to do would have been to take the stick and use the mother as a slave. 

Over and over I went back and forth, thinking one way and then another. And why would I rush, anyway? The chores were getting done, I was getting good work done, no need to be hasty. Almost in spite of myself, I started to grow fond of the girl, and to admire the mother that never considered her work done as long as her child was in danger.

Yes, I can be a little sentimental from time to time, try not to be so surprised.

So, in time, when I had reached a good stopping point in my greater work, I gave the mother back the form of flame. It’s so close to spirit anyway that it didn’t take much anyway, and a good thing, too. While not quite as stupid as her daughter, she came very close. When I bade the girl to take the flame and begone, the stupid girl went home again! And her stupid mother burned up the bad stepmother and stepsisters, which don’t get me wrong, was a very good start.

Then stricken with horror at her actions, she told her daughter to bury her in the ground, so she couldn’t hurt anyone else.

Stupid woman.

Just as I had foreseen, the girl went onto a city, caught the eye of the right man, and became queen. She lived as close to happily ever after as anyone can, mostly, I think, because she stayed just as stupid til her dying day. Did you ever notice that? It makes me wonder why I spend so much time chasing knowledge, since ignorance seems truly to be bliss.

The world is a strange place, and that’s coming from an old hermit fae who lives in a hut made of bones. Think about that a second.

Her mother though? I dug her right back up again after she left and told her exactly what kind of a fool she was. Oh, how she wept and wailed and begged me to let her go and watch over her poor little child. Never a word of gratitude for not simply eating her, nor for giving her such a useful form. So I stole away her voice, and brought her back to my home where she could pay back all the work that I put into her new form.

Right now, she’s in my fire, warming my little hut. I keep telling her someday I may give her something closer to flesh, that she may be reunited with her Vasilisa.

Too bad I can’t give her wisdom with it.

As for me, Queen Vasilisa managed to spread enough stories about the mean old woman living on the edge of the gloomiest forest in all the lands that most people go out of their way to avoid me. If they should happen to find my little home, the turn pale and flee. Some have seen me at my labors and taken it ill, or let their imaginations run wild. The tales, they grow and grow until I am a legend.

Best of all, I am left in peace, mostly. 

Every once in a while, some idiot wanders into my domain and does something truly offensive. Sometimes, they run quickly enough.

And sometimes, I have dinner.

I’m just saying, seems like an awfully good idea.

I’m not really a thinker so much… I mean, I can think about things in a logical from point a to b to c manner, but it’s not really how I have my best concepts come up. I’m not sure how to explain it other than by saying sometimes I feel like I’m more intuitive than intelligent.

What does that mean? Well, it means I think/worry about a thing, trying to shove it into its box so I can think/worry about other things that don’t need thinking cause they are ready for doing… and while it’s in that box that I’m stomping up and down on to keep the lid shut while I handle something else, what magically pops out is the solve.

Clear as mud, I know. And I’m sorry but we’re gonna keep wandering anyway.

It came to me, while worrying over the SCOTUS’s latest antics and maybe considering rereading The Pelican Brief out of a certain grim nostalgia while recommending others read The Handmaid’s Tale cause I ain’t ready to put on a Martha uniform yet.

Whether you call them MAGAs or hard right Republicans (which I don’t like because the people I’m talking about aren’t Republicans) or, my personal favorite, Tuckerites, the fact of the matter is these are people who are banding together around hate. Something has happened to them, and I don’t know what, and honestly, I barely care at this point. Something happened to the point that one of the drivers for their sense of purpose is to tell other people how to live. And sometimes they call themselves Christians, which, you know, you do you, fact is that little brown guy told you to love, accept, and care for everyone, not the those that happen to look and think like you.

Think about what being on the inside of that community is like. Some of you may already know what it’s like- the ongoing crusade against so many things that don’t matter, giving (and giving, and giving) money to support people who want to stand on a stage and scream into a microphone to tell you what to think, and by the way, give me more money. I’ve known folk that were churchgoing types… but you know, I’ve never seen a member of said church turn up when they needed someone. In fact, I’ve seen members of churches put people in precarious positions (hey, elderly woman, why don’t you let this sketchy drug user be your new roommate? we’ve prayed on it, it’ll be fine) that don’t exactly equate to caring for people in a healthy way.

Please understand, if your experience with organized religion has been different from mine and my observances, I’m happy for you. I don’t need to hear about it, just keep doing you and let it keep doing what it does for you.

Myself, I don’t need that. I don’t need someone to play gatekeeper and standing between me and faith. No one does. I suppose I do follow Christ a tiny bit, or at least some of the teachings- but he was not the first or only one to tell humanity to be good to each other, make amends for trespass, and pray in private.

So, getting closer to my point here.

What do the communities that aren’t simpatico with the Tuckerites have in common?

Well, they aren’t built on a foundation of hate. Ever been to Pride? It’s an outpouring of love and acceptance. Ever been welcomed by a sweet old abuela to dinner? Pure, fattening as fuck lard cookies made with love. People who cling to their identities and refusing to be other than out of pride, and sometimes stubbornness, but always, always love. These people know who they are with a surety like a lodestone drawn to true North. Their purpose is a better life for their people, for their children, and they are fucking fiercely beautiful and strong in that purpose.

In my heart, I believe the Tuckerites are jealous. Beyond who they vote for and who they hate, they have no identity. They parents and their children are either just fucking like them, or very fucking distant, trying to find their own path out of the judgmental hatred.

I ended up talking about this to a whole lot of people last week, so I guess there’s nothing stopping me from writing it now. My mom was definitely a Tuckerite, and she really did not care for gay people. “Why do they have to shove it in everyone’s faces?” was a common question, and, like most of my generation, I would sigh and refuse to engage. (Yes, my mother knew I am bi, she just didn’t care to acknowledge it or it may have impeded her ranting.)

When that same question came up during the Q&A portion of the panel I was on, it rang through my head in a memory I’ve been trying to forget. “How do you deal with these people who say this?”

Well, clearly, I didn’t. Funny thing about life is that it typically creates the circumstances for growth, if you are willing to see and take advantage of them. My foster son, who was out and gay, reconnected with us during the pandemic. I’m sorry to say that he never got to meet my stepdad (who passed when we were still all in bubbles and everything was shut down solid), but from the moment he met my Tuckerite, grieving mother, he took her into his arms and called her Gramma. He helped us move her out of her apartment, came to spend time with her while she was living here, and even visited her in the hospital, took her deliveries out to the rehab center. He could get her to laugh, take her meds, and eat when she would ignore the rest of us. Jake had a million things to do at any given moment, and he always made time for my mother, always treated her with great care and affection.

One of the last times I saw my mother was Mother’s Day, and my foster son, naturally, went with me. She reached out to hug him before me, and hugged him again after me when we left. I never asked Jake to censor himself around her, or be anyone but who he was. And if this home is built on anything (except Star Wars), it’s love and care.

From the time she met Jake til she passed away nearly two years later, I never heard her say a single negative thing about gay people.

Love will win over hate every time- in my deepest heart, I truly believe this. I have to, or the tidal wave of hate breaking over our heads right now becomes unbearable.

It’s just hate, fueled by jealousy of the strength of communities, by fear, by anger. When you’ve been sold a bill of goods stating that to be enlightened/saved/whatever rocks your jollies has only one miserable path that requires you to condemn others, and you see all these others who know who they are, daring to be different, and then being HAPPY being different from you… and that you cannot follow… surrounded by people who love and support their differentness, knowing you would NEVER receive that same care if you let yourself be like them…

I’d be pissed too.

So this… individual.. named Becky Burkett apparently doesn’t like childless people at Disney.

Disney’s Magic Kingdom to Welcome ONLY Adults With Children, Beginning Late Summer 2023

I know this may seem really shocking if you’ve been reading along and just think your devoted blogger is just as fucking cool as a polar bear plunge in January…. I’m not cool. I’m not confident. In fact, I typically have to be slightly coaxed (if not outright bribed) to leave this charming little abode in which about 90% of what I see, hear, smell, and touch was put there because I take pleasure in it. All of the other creatures in the house actually like me, I hope at least 90% of the time.

The short list of places where I feel out of place-

1. The park- people don’t like it if you play on the slide or swings and you’re over 30. I’m not saying they’ll card you.. just the STARES pretty much do the job on their own.
2. Restaurants. Since covid, I worry I’m not tipping enough or that I’m inadvertently being a pain by wanting to tidy the dishes. Or that I ordered something complicated, and the server is wishing I’d go die in a fire.
3. The movies- it’s not like the plane where middle seat gets both armrests… they are all middle seats! WTF gets the armrest! (not gonna lie, been considering booking a buffer seat so it’s never a problem again and I don’t have to crane my neck from an aisle seat to see the screen.
4. Retail stores-
   • /cough TORRID cough- the mean girls working the counter are usually talking smack about whoever just left before me… what new irritations am I provoking without knowing?
   • Bath and Body works- OMG please quit putting stink under my nose that I didn’t ask for! I do not want to smell fucking Dragonfly Shimmer Daydream for the rest of the day!
   • Really everywhere on the mall- I don’t care WHY you want my phone number, I don’t fucking want to give it to you. Does it ever occur to you that the fact that your employer is willing to give ridiculous discounts on purchases if you have it means my data is more valuable to them than your product?

Now, I’m not saying Disney parks are my Cheers or anything- but I do enjoy stepping into various fantasy versions of the real world. Where the staff is nice and plays along. Where you get to pick the experience you want, as long as you got that credit card to make your Disney dream come true.

I’m not saying I didn’t see the OG rant on childless people at Disney before.. I did.. and I chalked it up to the old adage.. opinions are like assholes, everyone’s got one.

But this Becky Burkett… she took all this effort to write this article, filled with links about how nutty ‘Disney adults’ are. Didn’t notice the first time? Here’s a few examples-

RELATED: Disney Adults Are Awful Human Beings. And Some Are Barely Human at All

RELATED: Cringe-Worthy Disney Adults Really Are the Worst. Here, See For Yourself

RELATED: Disney Adults & Mental Health: What’s the Connection?

RELATED: Report From the American Psychiatric Association Claims Disney Adults Are No Longer Considered Psychopaths

I’m sure I could find Becky’s IG and Twitter and go bonkers at her and call her names. But you know, just like I yield the armrest, tip 30%, and don’t play on the swings anymore… that’s just not something I do. If I’ve learned anything about mean girls in the nearly fifty years of dealing with them, it’s that attention is the key.

So here ya go, Becky Burkett, writer for DisneyDining.com… I hope you enjoy the meager attention from my teensy, rambling blog. I hope you get a laugh out of the fact that I had a long moment of incredulous sadness. I hope the fact that I now understand that there’s more than an unhinged rant about people like me, that there’s actually a whole movement of people like yourself, writing this clickbait articles to convince us to stay home just fills you with glee.

In the end… well, the judge from Office Space said it best.

There’s a lot of thoughts and feels running around in my brainpan right now- and I’m sorry to say a sizeable portion fueled by anger and despair.

One of my little hobbies is to peruse a few forums on Reddit, most often r/internetparents and r/amiwrong. Yesterday I came across two posts that absolutely broke my heart.

The first was someone upset that Astrid in the live action How to Train Your Dragon is going to be played by a young Black actress. You see, she herself is descended from the vikings, and identified with Astrid growing up.

Gee. Ya don’t say.

Deep in my heart (and probably for obvious reasons) I truly believe that telling stories is the most important thing we do as people. Whether its written down, filmed, a conversation between friends- to tell a story is to offer up the chance to connect with someone. To have them feel what’s in your heart and mind at a moment in time. Maybe you’re trying to make someone laugh with a tale of your own ridiculousness. Maybe you’re trying to give a lesson through your own experience.

But you never (or at least I never) tell a story without the intent to evoke a feeling. Let that marinate a minute- every show you’ve ever watched, every book you’ve read, every anecdote has attempted to control you. But in a good way (well, mostly.)!

When it comes to representation, stories are going further. If you can see and identify with the character’s situation, what they say, what they do… well, they go from being a character to being a person that you’re rooting for through their story. Like the Velveteen Rabbit, they become Real. Real people can be empathized with, because, holy chao, there’s ways in which they are like you. Because that’s where the basis of understanding them begins, it’s then okay that they aren’t like you in other ways, because the Realness is already there.

Here’s the secret.. every person is Real. The problem is that if we routinely see the world around us that way, it can be devastating to feel that many feels at once, to understand that so much joy and pain and noise, feelings just as real as what YOU feel every day.. it’s out all there. It’s all Real, and there’s too damn little you can do to share in the wonder.. or stem the bleeding. It’s too much to encompass, and we’re at critical mass overload. I truly believe that we were not meant to live in communities as large as we do… and if we continue to do so, we’re going to need an upgrade of some kind to allow us to be the best part of humanity while eradicating the worst parts.

And what’s really not helping is the undeniable fact that our society, particularly in the last 10-15 years, has a vested interest in exploiting the fault lines between people and telling us how different we are.

Because if someone is different from you, it’s okay to think you are greater than.

If someone is different from you, it’s okay not to agree with them.

If someone is different from you, it’s okay to hate them.

Go Team Us. Boo Team Them.

Sound familiar? There’s a reason it resonates- it’s taking that overload and breaking it down to a binary equation. The most useful life skill I have picked up is to simplify the complex, and I like to think I do it well. We don’t like to feel stupid, and if you can make something simple, gaining agreement gets a lot easier.

Do you feel like we’ve gone full circle? Cause we’re almost there.

There’s nothing simpler than manufactured outrage- over, maybe, something that on its face is about art, but in reality, is stopping people from identifying with people not like them.

I know it hurts and I know it’s hard. I still hope you’ll find it in your heart to see who’s Real and hear their story.

With that in mind, I want to leave you with this story. As you read it, imagine this is your friend you lost touch with, but have thought of fondly from time to time.. someone Real to you.

That’s all I have to say, because my heart is too full.. yes, with horror and hurt, but maybe a little spark of hope, too. Because if I didn’t believe we were better than this… why would I be here telling you the story?

Be well, friends.

LGBTQ Couple arrested for PDA at mini-golf in Texas
byu/Cheeseballfondue inBestofRedditorUpdates

It’s a gray day that’s a little too warm.. especially when, you know, the cooler isn’t on yet. (That’s tomorrow and we will survive til then.)

So we’re laying on the couch, a little bored as I get rid of a headache and Rick naps a little.. I sit up and he asks what I’m going to do.

Rick- Gonna play your game? (Referring to The Legend of Zelda Tears of the Kingdom, in which I am stuck trying to fly into a stupid storm. I’m actually afraid of heights and this part is a little anxiety inducing)

Me- Gonna stop picking on me as much? Notice I didn’t say ‘at all’, because I understand reality.

Rick- I’m not picking on you! I’m giving advice!

Me, imitating Rick- ‘Oh hey, how bout next time you don’t fall and die’… THAT IS NOT ADVICE

Rick- Sure it is! It’s something you shouldn’t do next time.

Me, sighing- Now I have to go write this up.

Rick- You’re just stalling now.

Me- That’s right! Can’t die if I’m writing and I will keep on staving off the death! /marches down the hall to scribble this down

So, it’s May the Fourth eve… and Rick and I are headed to a trivia competition tomorrow that’s going to cover the movies and the shows. We’ve been studying up, taking every YouTube quiz we could find, and yes, rewatching movies.

And, sigh, tonight we had to watch the prequels that we more or less politely ignore. Gritting teeth, we started with Attack of the Clones (not even to bone up for trivia will I watch Phantom Menace on purpose).

We talked all through it about new insights that came up. Yes, the dialogue is awkward AF. Like Anakin had never flirted with a girl before.

You know, cause he hadn’t.

In fact, watching it again, it struck me how horrible Obi Wan really was to Anakin. He wasn’t allowed to make mistakes. He definitely was never allowed to just be a kid. The grief that Obi Wan felt at losing his mentor, he punished Anakin with, forcing him to be worth Qui Gon’s sacrifice. Anything that was outside of that perfect mold was up for criticism if not straight up quashed.

It’s understandable, human to the core, and helped me grind my teeth at the flat repartee less. A little, anyway.

And Padme’s got a similar.. like she, too, had never been allowed to be young… maybe because she was persuing a political career before she had her first period. She knows how to be a diplomat, but she doesn’t know how to navigate the territory of adult emotions, is it so shocking she gets everything wrong, then figures in for a penny, in for a pound and commits to it?

Granted, I don’t give full credit to Lucas for being this intuitive about adolescent emotions in adults. I think he lucked out.

And maybe it won’t be several years before the next viewing- but Obi Wan suuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuucks.

I do my best to be kind and understanding and to find reasons to hope rather than despair. It’s been a year since we knew Roe v Wade would be overturned, and in that year, things have gotten genuinely scary.

It’s funny, during the two years of the pandemic, I thought it would be a relief to be able to be among people again.

It’s not.

I keep thinking about what we learned in the past few years- and what we lost. It seems like some people used the quiet bubble time to reflect on being better people, do all the things they said they should take time to do while they had time. And other folks… well, hardened. Maybe cause of distance, and the constant fear of who would get sick next. Fear of having to make a living in a way that you knew could cost your life or the lives of those you loved. I keep thinking about what words we could possibly leave behind so folks could really understand what it was like- stuck in our homes, watching the daily updates and feeling so damned powerless to do anything real to help.

(Kinda wide ranging here, aren’t you? Are you getting to a point? Of course I am, I always do, Faith.)

I remember being so afraid for my people… my family, my family by choice, everyone I’d ever met and never met. Crying for fear was an almost daily occurrence, my nerves were raw and shot while I tried so damn hard to just keep on moving through each day, hoping the next day would bring better numbers.

When I tell you I understand the people that started building thick shells, who lost the empathy for others, I truly do. There was a time when I was that person, and I hated myself more than anyone else. I couldn’t stand to go back to being that person, so I cried. I prayed. I hoped. And I hung on to the moments of peace and contentment I could find.

I truly believe that we are where we are now due to that amputated limb of empathy. For a lot of folk, when they aren’t directly impacted, closing their eyes to pain is the true new normal. Whether it’s a mass shooting, children unable to be who they are, women forced to carry non viable pregnancies to term- it all becomes the new normal.

Somewhere along the way we lost the idea of everyone finding their own path to peace and happiness. And it seems like if folks found a path that isn’t the straight married people with 2.5 straight kids, reasonably prosperous regular jobs, and a big enough house, then they can’t possibly be happy. Must follow the life script, must be like everyone else.

The animosity towards the folk that dare to be happy following a different script is heating up. Animosity towards women is heating up. In the past week, I’ve seen comments about ending women’s suffrage, how you aren’t fulfilled as a person if you’re a woman who has no children, that women don’t exist on the internet.

The comments don’t disgust me as much as the fact that I saw no voices raised against them.

And here I am, back in the pandemic mindset, only now there is no end in sight. The disease that has taken over the population is hardness and hate that blast out in so many directions that you don’t know that there is anything at all real you can do to help. It’s wanton and corrosive and the carriers look like everyone else.

It hurts. It hurts to see people carry around hate for themselves, for women, for people that don’t think the same. More and more it feels like this is the real pandemic, and I don’t see the end.

I only know one way to cope- and it’s not by fighting. I’m deeply tired of how everything we don’t like we put into terms of conflict. We declare war on drugs, on poverty, on whatthefuckever. No one wins wars.

So I will hope. And I will keep trying to be the best person I can be, no matter if I have to give up from time to time, that’s okay. I forgive me for that, and I know every day is a new chance to try again. I will let my people know what they mean to me, hold them close and precious in my heart. I will guard that which brings me joy and contentment and I don’t give a flying fuck who doesn’t like it.

It’s the only way I know, and I found it way too late in life to give it up.

I’ve been slacking a little bit what with all the other parts of life going on, and I owe yall an update.

https://wordpress.com/post/curiousreadings.com/1517

So, first things first. I did get my money back. And I received the product for free the next week, with the heavy suggestion that I remove the post. Yeah, I’m not going to do that.

I pushed back and asked what had caused the situation in the first place, and got a line about supply issues. I pointed out that they continued to push ads like crazy, and wasn’t it a little disingenuous to continue full steam ahead on gathering orders that they possibly couldn’t fulfill?

And I really wonder what happened to the customers that didn’t chase them with blog postings and complaints to the BBB and the CFPB. I’m afraid I already know.

So, yeah, if you like the product so much that you’re willing to chase them to get it after paying for it, go right ahead. Myself, I think they give small businesses and artists a bad name, and I definitely will not be ordering from them again.

It’s been a pretty mellow day here… we went out and did the very few errands that wanted doing and got some lunch, then of course, Rick went off to be all Jedi Survivor in the office while I attempted to play Final Fantasy 6 but actually had a pretty solid couch nap in the living room.

Rick apparently was surprised by the fact that I had an accidental nap, and felt the need to comment.

Rick- I hit a quiet part of the game and heard something down the hall, but it wasn’t Final Fantasy. Come in and there you are all /insert Rick doing a dead fish impression here snoozing away on the couch.

Me, taking off my reading glasses and frowning- You know, dear, girls like to think of ourselves as being beautiful enchanted princesses in slumber, and we don’t really enjoy you breaking the illusion.

Rick- You were all curled up, mouth open /insert unflattering, definite non enchanted princess impression yet again

Me, speaking in an even firmer tone of voice- We don’t like hearing that we drool and snore!

Rick- Oh, you, YOU definitely snore.

Me, sighing- This is payback for last night’s three little words, isn’t it?

Rick, grinning- Yup.

Yall see? This is a give and take, and Rick gets his share back, alllll the time.