Every now and again, if you don’t look too hard, you’ll get a little dose of the meaning of life.

Now don’t get excited, this is just one of my meanings, and it may or may not have crap to do with you and yours.

I was sitting here quietly, waiting for Rick and watching Ready Player One again. I’d recommended the book to a friend this week, and like I do, let them know that it has absolutely nothing to do with the movie except the names of the charcters.

It was one of the last scenes, where Halliday looks back at Wade and says, “Thank you for playing my game,” that hit me right in the feels. For Halliday, creating games was everything that he had to offer to the world in his own mind- it was the way he connected to people, to show them he wanted them to feel what he felt when playing a really good game. Thrills and puzzle solving and laughter and joy in the creativity of minds around him- all the joys of geekdom.

And whether it’s blogs like this, or random conversations, or whole books.. I realized why I create. To connect with people, to make them laugh and maybe cry but mostly just feel for a little while what I do when I think about these characters and their story.

For years, I’ve felt that to create is as close as we get to the divine. And today I wonder if that is why we’re here… to connect to one another, learn, play, and create in our own turn.

In any case, I guess there’s no better way to end this shared epiphany than by saying… thank you for reading my stuff.

One of the reasons me and the mister get along is that we have a similarly weird sense of humor and make each other laugh.

Me, seeing Rick coming out of the garage with a level, crossing arms over chest- We’ve HAD this conversation already. I HATE that you keep checking to make sure they are still level!

A little later on, Rick stomps in from doing the laundry, frowning at me horribly.

Rick, reaching out to hand me my credit card and driver’s license that are shiny clean from yet another trip through the wash- I keep telling you NOT to make me a part of your criminal activities!

Annnnd back to puttering around the house we go, without even a ba-dum tizz…

OK.. I normally couldn’t give a crap about tennis.. but. But.

I was skimming this article when THIS caught my attention-

Julia Elbaba, a sports journalist and former WTA player, said she was disappointed in Osaka’s withdrawal but not surprised. She said if Osaka was struggling with her mental health, she shouldn’t have played in the tournament at all so that another tennis player could have competed.
Being a professional tennis player is “a lonely, cruel journey,” she told VICE World News.
“There is no question they have some social anxiety,” said Elbaba, who competed against Osaka and her sister Mari in local New York tournaments when they were 10 to 12 years old.

YOU. YOU are part of the problem. How fuckin DARE you judge someone like you’re an authority on them personally because you played against them when they were a child? And for what? A quote, a soundbite? Was it worth it?

OK, taking a breath here… look, folks and particularly ladies. Each and every one of us has the ability to lift someone up or slam them down. And we make that decision every single damn day. This world is hard enough for all of us that we don’t need to be putting folk down.

Most of us have nothing but contempt for those that choose to kick someone when they are down. I wonder what the world would look like if we refused to engage with the people we see behaving this way?

I bet it would be a lot quieter. And we might, MIGHT learn something about how our words impact others.

https://www.vice.com/en/article/7kvxkg/naomi-osaka-depression-french-open?utm_source=vicenewsfacebook

If my universe has a center that isn’t Mr. Wellman, it’d be this little loafy potato dog. Unfamiliar with corgis? Here you go, I’m pretty sure this is the official definition from Mr. Webster himself.

My particular corgi, Duchess Sabrina Waffleton (she deigns to let us call her Bree, corgin, pupnstuff, Breezer, corgbutt, and pupperdoo) has had a rather rough time lately. She is not a big fan of change, you see, and over the past couple of weeks, there’s been a lot of change at Casa de Wellman.

The bedroom had to be completely cleared out for the new bed… and to me, totally worth it. The comforter is hiding the six drawers on each side for storage. And just because it IS so tall, we put the small couch at the end so pups can get up and down, and so Rick has a comfy place to put his shoes on each morning.

Clearing out the bedroom also means that all of my throw pillows got unearthed.. and most of them went to my office couch. Bree does not think highly of this; she has decided it is her mission in life to disarray my pillows and build herself a corgly pillow fort at least twice each day.

It’s hard to be a Bree.

Me, as Rick passes me my package- Ooooh I have been waiting for this!

Rick- Yeah? What is it?

Me, knowing I’ve mentioned WHAT it is a couple of times- Guess.

Rick- Uh… you’ve decided to learn sign language?

Me, turning box over in my hands and looking at it objectively- You know, that’s a fair guess.

One of my areas in which I need to give myself a break is wanting everything just so. I like my gear to look like new, my hair to fall the right way, and ohhh how I have missed my occasional manicure. Even if the places I go didn’t have like cool Star Wars designs and really no black polish at all… it was nice to have them shaped and polished up.

But since I can’t paint my own nails worth a darn, I gave it up cause covid. Because I want them to look just so, you see. And an experiment with Rick painting them proved that while my honeybear has many talents, nail art ain’t among ’em.

Then a friend told me about this poppy thing, and I decided to give it a try.. hence the above box that I definitely mentioned to Rick. Sometimes listening and remembering isn’t among his talents either. And yeah, it took me three tries to figure out that sometimes perfect isn’t important. What’s important is how good I feel about my starscape nails, how good it feels to be back in black, and just indulging in some self care.

And if you’re wondering what Rick’s strong suits are… among the many, he makes me laugh, he feeds my imagination, he makes me feel safe, he gets me retro SNES controllers for my Switch, and yes, he does listen.

Last night, we were in our high altitude bed with the TV on the floor with (what else?) Star Wars on. I told him it was like being at the very tip top of a theater with stadium seating looking down at the screen way way below.

Today, he wall mounted our bedroom TV. And screwed down the last countertop in the kitchen. And you know, he’s why I have a bed again.

We were sitting on the couch, watching Kim’s Convenience and minding our own business when Rick hands me his phone with a blank email pulled up.

Me- What?

Rick- You need to write a thank you to Brandi for getting our parts shipped and you’d do it better than me.

Me, with a sigh- OK, but I need a decent sized keyboard.

Rick- Fine, use my computer.

Down the hall, to the office, sitting down at his computer, and I get a goathead in the tender spot right between my foot and my pinkie toe.

Me- /various noises indicating pain

Rick, with a sigh, crossing the room and holding his hand out for the extracted goathead so he can throw it away. HUGE shock as I pass it to him that lit up the dark and hurt us both- OW! What the hell?????

Me, grumbling and turning back to the computer- and I got hit TWICE, what the hell is that about?

I write up the email, still muttering.

Me- I’d ask you to get me a pepcid, but we’d probably get set on fire!

Rick, sighing some more, exits, I think to let me write in peace. He comes back a minute later, with the pepcid.

Me- oh! OK, great, but…. could you just drop it into my hand?

We probably shouldn’t have laughed about it for as long as we did, but it’s kind of been a long day.

No, that’s not the mistake, in case you were wondering, that’s just a change of attitude and altitude.

Our old bed had a set of pup stairs to help the kids get in and out of bed when they were babies. They still use them, though, so we never moved them. When we put them into place, we saw that it was about a foot from the tippy top step to the bed. Rick and I looked at each other with concern, and figured, well, we’ll see what happens.

No, that’s not the mistake either, quit getting ahead of me here.

Understand, the pups LOVE time laying in bed with mom and dad… like a lot. You want to see three previously catatonic tufts of couch potato fur take flight in this house? Say, “It’s bedtime!” and they all sprout wings.

So when I climbed into bed to test it out, our girls, with minimal trepidation, hopped up and checked it out.

And when I got up to go back into my office, they got up to go with me.

Zoe, the aussie shepherd, has seriously long legs. She was fine going back down the stairs.

Jaina, our morkie, also has fairly long legs, and negotiated the stairs with no trouble.

But Bree…

Bree is a corgi, which means she has no legs. She’s a roly poly sausage with stumps that have footies on the end.

Bree was not okay, and now we’re arriving at the mistake.

Once we’d assured ourselves that Bree was fine after her faceplant moment, I laughed.

Now, as you can see, we have addressed the issue, and I’m glad to say Bree is able to get into and out of bed without any problems.

But I’m still getting some wicked side eye, and I know I’m going to pay for laughing at the corg.

I made a huge mistake.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve wanted to tell stories. I can very clearly recall long afternoons in my grandfather’s rocker, pretending we were riding giraffes on Mars. I don’t know why it had to be Mars or giraffes- what I do remember is that my grandfather told me that was just fine and joined in my wild imaginationland.

When I stop and think about it, the people I’ve enjoyed the most are the ones that play along. Rick might be my favorite cause not only will he play along, he’ll add to it.

Coming up on an anniversary of one of those deeply affecting events, I started doing that thing you do during such times when you get older. It’s much more fun when you do it as a kid, cause it usually means your My Little Pony or video game collection- what you have, what you want to get next, how you’ll managed to wheedle it out of a parent.

Cause when you’re older, sometimes taking stock feels like telling your yesterself you weren’t good enough.

Advice- try not to do that. Even if it’s true, beating up yesterself is an exercise in futility.

This minute, I’m within just a few years of the age my grandfather was when we rode the mystical longnecked beasts of Mars. That was a gaspy thought… because within a few years of those long ago golden afternoons, my grandfather was gone.

But then, I gave that thought another look and realized something.. well, magicalish? All these years later, through all the very strange twists and turns life has taken, I’m still telling stories from my wild imaginationland. Even better, these days I get to share them with folk and sometimes I even get paid!

That part is SUPER magical, no mistake about it.

Fairy tales and girls who don’t know who they are.. and women who find out there’s more to learn… fairy godmother drag queens..

… and yes, self help on how NOT to be an asshole. Yes, that’s my Gandhi moment- I’m attempting to BE the change I want to see in the world. We’ll see how it works out.

It’s a weird time to be alive, yall. Be hopeful, be thoughtful, be imaginative, be kind.

Most of all, be you.

Y’all, I’m not going to lie, I’m in a state of shock. I just got the first reporting in on how the prerelease sales have gone, and… well, I’ve never had a more successful launch. Not even with the book after the one in which there was a nasty, nasty cliffhanger.

I guess this proves-

1. Folk want to read about assholes.
2. Folk want to make sure they aren’t assholes.
3. Folk think they are assholes and want to change.
4. Folk want other people to know they think they are assholes in an understated way.
5. Assholes buy books?

Either way, I’m shocked, thrilled, and flabbergasted all in turns… and since I use word of mouth to publicize, I know I have all of you to thank. So thank you for your continued support, I cannot tell you how much it means to me.

Preorders ARE still live, and the release is Friday the 21st!

And I am Jack’s complete state of shock.

Not going to lie… got a sad/happy/shappy thing going on right about now. Yes, it’s a goofy concept for a self help book. No, it’s not a joke. I wrote down the stuff that I have done, keep doing, and will continue to do to try and be a better person. But I’m also the kind of girl that calls something what it is, and I’m trying very hard not to be an asshole. I hope folks who also want to be better people give it a try, and hopefully get a laugh or two along the way.

I didn’t do anything unique or crazy- just a common sense approach to a problem not many folk are willing to admit to having.

And it entertained me to put it in super faaaaaaancy curly font for some reason. I dunno, sometimes I don’t look too deeply into my motives.

At $3 for Kindle, $4 for paperback, if you think you’d enjoy it, I hope you’ll buy it. Give it as a tongue in cheek gift to someone that’ll think it’s funny.

Now, if you’ll pardon me, I’m going to reach out to Gilbert Gottfried on Cameo and see if he’s willing to do the audiobook version. It’s like I wrote it for him.