The mosaic of me

I was thinking the other day about why I like - or think I like - certain things and not others. Why did I avoid asparagus for so long? What was it that made me think I liked mint-chip ice cream? Then it hit me: I'm still not my own person yet.

By which I mean, I haven't figured out what *I* like. I've just sort of adopted bits and pieces of other people and fit them together into this picture of myself.

For example: Coffee. My mom drinks coffee almost obsessively. I like coffee, sort of. I'm more of a venti mocha frappuccino, extra extra mocha, light ice, extra whipped cream kind of person whereas my mom will drink her coffee black if there's no sugar or milk in the house because it's still coffee.

I cannot stand my coffee black. Just can't do it. The smell alone of black coffee often makes me want to hurl (Certain blends more than others).

My mom has a preferred blend and roast I'm sure, and I'm pretty sure it's something on the dark side of medium. Me, I want blonde. I walk into Starbucks and if I'm not getting a frappuccino, you can bet I'm ordering a blonde.

Plus, it's really funny to walk up and say "I'll have a tall blonde extra sweet." It always makes whatever male is behind me in line laugh, which also makes it a good conversation starter.

My mom isn't big on flavored coffee. I love it. French vanilla, blueberry crumble, apple tart (notice the dessert trend here) I will gladly try it at least once and as long as it's not caramel or toffee you can probably bet I'll enjoy it. My mom can barely handle the smell.

Noting all of this, it's not very fair to say that I love coffee. Because while I do enjoy the various forms coffee can come in it's not real coffee that way - as my mom and husband have both pointed out to me various times. I actually tend to prefer my blended chocolate milk with a hint of coffee, as opposed to a blended coffee with a little bit of chocolate milk.

This doesn't mean that I won't drink it from the pot. Starbucks gets expensive and sometimes I don't feel like walking or driving even as far as the 5 blocks it would take to get to the closest Starbucks. Even when I lived in Seattle and there was a Starbucks on the end of my block, I didn't always want to walk down to it and wait in line and fork over however much cash it was going to take for me to get my fix. So I drink coffee from the pot, with about half the cup full of milk and about two tablespoons (I kid you not) of sugar.

All of this considered, why do I drink coffee?

The simple answer is because my mom does. I can't remember a time where my mom wasn't drinking coffee. Even with strict orders from the doctor to cut back on her caffeine, she still drank decaf. I was allowed to drink coffee starting at 13 years old. One cup, one day out of the week. At 16 I was allowed to decide how much coffee I wanted to drink and admittedly went overboard, getting up to 5 pots a day at one point (it's really amazing I'm still alive, folks). But in all of that I've never enjoyed coffee without somewhat massive amounts of sugar and milk. So there's a piece of the mosaic. Mom's coffee obsession.

Another example: Mint chip ice cream.

For the longest time, I was pretty sure I loved mint chip ice cream. How could you not? it's mint and chocolate. Mint and chocolate go fantastically together, right?

Usually, yes.

The other day I realized that I hadn't actually had mint chip ice  cream in somewhere over five years. Considering that I'm 20 that's a really long time! So, I took the next possible opportunity and had some mint chip ice cream.

I pretty much hated it.

In fact, I disliked it so much that I wondered why I ever thought I liked it in the first place! Which got me to thinking, why *did* I think I liked mint chip ice cream? I laughed at myself when I finally discovered that I was under this - albeit mistaken - impression because of my dad, whose favorite type of ice cream is mint chip.

Me, I'm not a mint ice cream kind of person. I'm more of a chocolate ice cream with chocolate chunks and brownie bits and fudge swirls kind of person.

This is not to say that I love what my mom loves and hate what my dad loves. If that were the case, I wouldn't like fruity pebbles.

That's right, fruity pebbles. As far as I know they are my dad's favorite breakfast cereal. On my own, I probably wouldn't like them. They are tiny and they get soggy super fast and there's no real substance to them and they don't stick with you for very long. But I love them. Not as much as I love Chex or Life cereal, but almost. In fact, the one time Dearest agreed to let me buy breakfast cereal, I lost the opportunity because his usual patience was worn thin by how long it took me to decide between fruity pebbles and Chex.


Realizing these things about myself, I've begun to wonder just how much of "me" is made up of bits and pieces of other people.

Some almost funny examples:

I write my "D"s the way my dad does and my "2" the way my best friend in school did. I often find myself forming my words when I talk a little bit like Amy Pond from Doctor Who, and many of my facial expressions and body language cues change depending on who I'm around. I crochet and find it somewhat enjoyable even though I do frequently hit the "ahmagashthisissofreakingboring" wall and put it down for a few months. I enjoy anime - the blame for which may be placed almost totally on my husband's shoulders. I love many of the cosplay outfits - thanks to my husband's weird friends - and can sometimes be caught thinking about my zombie apocalypse plan rather seriously - entirely my sister in law's fault.

So many pieces of the things I would use to describe myself are actually pieces of other people's habits and interests.

Now for the serious note of this post. In speaking to Dearest about these things, he pointed out that I never really took the time to define myself. I never sat down and said "Who do I want to be?" and then worked to get there. According to him, the process of defining oneself is just like any other goal. You sit down, decide where you want to get to, write out where you want to get to, and then identify and write down where and how you'll have to change to get there. Then, you do it.

So as funny as it is to talk about my obsession with coffee and aversion to mint chip ice cream, I'm recently finding myself asking the rather daunting question that I'm sure has plagued many before me:

Who am I, really?

Who do I want to be?

And what's the difference between the two?

It's been a while

The funny thing about life getting busier is that while you know you probably have more to talk about, you find yourself sitting in front of computer with the cursor blinking on a blank screen for the better part of several days. Then, you give up and wait for inspiration to hit.


At least, that's what you do if you're me.


Inspiration, sadly, has not hit. I've been busy busy busy with various things and just haven't had an "Aha!" that made me want to sit down and write...at least not long enough for me to actually follow through.


Follow through seems to be one of my weak points.


So today, after weeks of reading about everyone else's lives and excitement, I figured I'd sit down and finally hammer something out in the way of sharing.


Imagi-Knit!!

Imagi-Knit is the project I'm most exited about in my life right now. A little while back, my sister-in-law's sister got a huge donation of yarn in various colors and an idea struck her: Let's make hats and scarves for the homeless. So she gathered a small group of people and got us all together one Thursday to sit around a few tables and make some things, and then take those things and some extra yarn home to work on more later.


The next month we returned, arms full of our creations, to trade fully made hats and scarves for more yarn to work with, and thus the group was officially born.


I've been working on Imagi-Knit related stuff a lot recently. I believe in what we're doing, in providing hand-made scarves and hats to the homeless and needy in our communities for the winter months. It's my hope that later on we'll get a few people willing to be a blanket brigade and make some hand-made blankets - those suckers are warm and durable!


I have big aspirations for our little group. That's one of the things being a part of WorldWide hast done for me, it's taught me how to have a vision. I look at Imagi-Knit today, just a handful of people sitting around a table once a month and working individually throughout the month, and I see what it could be a few years down the road. And because I see what it could be, I have a drive to get us there.


For this reason, when we started running out of yarn, I headed up the project to reach out for donations. It's turning out to be way more of a time and effort commitment than I originally thought it would be, and it's turning out to be way more difficult than I thought it would be. There's a lot of research involved and I'm not sure exactly how to pull off the various things I know need to happen just for us to get donations. It's daunting, really. But fortunately, I have my awesome husband who is way more capable of vision casting and knowing the next step from point A to point B than I am. He keeps me on track, feeds me ideas, helps me work this out. I've already gathered one yarn donation from someone who is in a volunteer group we're a part of, and though it's just one small donation it feels like a huge victory.


Weight Loss

As you can probably see from this picture, I'm not where I want to be with my weight and fitness. In fact, it's at the point where I'm pretty reluctant to have pictures of me taken because I just don't want anyone to remember once I get skinny again that I was ever this big.


Being so heavy has affected me in a lot of negative ways. It's been a blow to my self confidence, my health, and my ability to be around and relate to other people. I'm tired of feeling this way, and so I've been taking steps to do something about it.


Step 1: I finally buckled and started shopping at the "big girl" stores first (Places like The Avenue and Catherines). I decided, after a recent sweatpants debacle, that there really isn't any point even trying to go to Target or other regular-sized person stores for a while because the regular-sized person stores just don't have clothes in my size.


The debacle I'm referring to is, of course, the day that we went sweatpants shopping so I would have clothes for the gym and I discovered that not even the largest size in the maternity department at Target fits me. Talk about humiliating! My confidence and positive mental attitude were completely shot for the rest of the day and a generous portion of that week.


I've been resisting shopping for my clothes at stores where the clothes are designed for bigger people. Plus size stores, if you will. I've hated the idea that I would need to go to a special store where they carry special clothes designed to make fat people more comfortable with themselves. But, my ever-patient husband has worked with me and helped me realize that my aversion to plus size stores is a bit ridiculous. He's helped me realize that if I'm not comfortable with the weight I'm at, I need to do something about it. But in the meantime, it doesn't do anyone any good for me to go around feeling horrible about myself because my clothes don't fit or don't look pretty enough.


He's right. Target doesn't carry a single bra in a size 42D that is actually anything close to pretty or comfortable. Target doesn't carry sweat pants I can get my butt into. Target doesn't carry sweaters that are long enough to give my short torso and somewhat round form a perspective that's something other than short and round and bulgy. The Avenue, on the other hand, has comfortable, pretty bras. They have comfortable clothing that is still stylish enough for me to feel good in. Do I like being fat? no. Am I doing something about it? Yes. Do I deserve to at least feel comfortable and look good in my clothes while I'm working on it? Absolutely.


Step 2: Calorie Counting with the help of MyFitnessPal


This app is absolutely amazing. I've been adverse to counting calories for quite some time, feeling that it's an unfair way to monitor yourself because the calories in a cheeseburger couldn't possibly be an accurate representation of what that burger does for you!! Right?


Wrong.


This is another area my awesome husband has been helping me with. For a while, when he was single, he had a personal trainer. He also has a best friend he talks to on a regular basis who is a body builder. Between these two influences, he's learned a lot about food and the messages it sends to your body and the way your body responds to those messages. He's been passing those lessons on to me, teaching me what types of foods to eat, what types of foods to avoid, and how to train my body to get back into a state of using food for energy instead of just energy storage.


So I've started calorie counting. I use MyFitnessPal (an app that's available for both iPhone and Android) to log my calorie intake and my exercise. It tells me whether I've consumed enough calories to avoid sending my body into a starvation mode (ever notice how those starving kids in Africa have hard, round little bellies?) and whether I've stayed within my recommended calorie consumption for the day, given my weight loss goals. It really helps me stay on track. I may not be as able to fight the urge to eat a candy bar just yet, but I can fight the temptation to not log the calories from that candy bar and once I see how those calories are affecting my progress toward my goal  (can you believe that two Reeses' Cups are the equivalent of HALF A MEAL in calories?!?) I then become better able to say "I really want that doughnut, but that doughnut is about 400 calories and if I eat that doughnut, I'll be setting my progress back by a quarter of a day."


Believe it or not, that's actually super helpful.


Step 3: EXERCISE!!


Okay, so maybe I haven't started exercising yet. I do have a gym membership, I bought it at the beginning of this month. But I hate doing new things alone at all, so I've been waiting for Dearest to go with me and scheduling hasn't worked out.


Codependency is another one of my flaws.


However, I do have the membership, and I am aware of how much exercising would help, and so I'm working really hard to get myself to a place where I can go to the gym alone.


Step 4: Goals.


I didn't realize just how important goals are to me. Numbers goals are meaningless. "I want to weight 180 pounds by next Christmas" Yeah, sure, lovely, pass the doughnuts.


But other goals are extremely positive for me. For example, This dress.
This dress is amazing. I absolutely love it. By Halloween of next year, I will fit into it.


Okay, so it's a custom made dress that can be any size. But I don't want to see my bulges bulging out of this dress. I want to wear this dress because it fits, and looks almost exactly like this. I'll probably never be a size 2. But size 2 and size 12 look surprisingly similar and I know I can make it to a 12.


Okay, so maybe it's juvenile. I mean, really, a Nightmare Before Christmas dress? What am I, ten?


The answer is yes. In some parts of my brain and the way I relate to the world, I'm ten. And I adore this dress, and when I get skinny we will have a huge party to celebrate and I will wear this dress.




My other motivator goals aren't as material. I know that being my weight when you get pregnant jeopardizes the baby. I know that being unhealthy when you get pregnant jeopardizes the baby. I also know that being healthy and having a good exercise routine already in place are both very, very good for you and your baby once you get pregnant. One day I do want to have kids, and I can't stand the thought that my poor choices will hurt their chances of long, happy, healthy lives before they're even born.


One huge other motivator for me is my own personal happiness and health. I've been noticing lately that I can't handle walking or standing as much, that my knees and hips and feet hurt a lot more lately, that walking at a brisk pace winds me and I have to catch my breath before I can speak at the top of a small flight of stairs. I hope to travel the world some day, to run along the beach, to climb mountains and explore ancient castles. I can't do that in my condition, and I know that the longer I stay as heavy and unhealthy as I am, the worse these pains and limitations will get. 


Just last night I popped my knee out of joint because I moved in a way that caused my knee to just be unable to stay in place. I've moved that way tons throughout my life (I was trying to escape tickle torture) and never had my knee pop out of joint before. I've also never been 280 pounds before. 


My knee did quickly move back into place but it was enough pain to make me unable to do anything but scream for a few minutes and today, thought the pain has subsided a little, it still hurts and I can't stand or walk for very long at all without crying. I'll be fine, of course. None of the classic signs of something going terribly wrong are there; I can still move my toes just fine, still rotate my ankle and bend my knee - albeit with pain, but I can do it - and my knee hasn't turned black or swollen up too badly. But it hurts, and it wouldn't hurt if I was lighter and healthier, and if I didn't have motivation enough before yesterday, I definitely do now.


Also, I'm 20. I shouldn't be having these problems at 20!


My Birthday!!


In a month and 2 days, I'll be 21. I'm super excited.


Not because I drink, mind you. I don't and I don't have any real desire to. I can't even really identify why I'm excited to be turning 21. I just am.


As the plan stands today, we'll be getting a bunch of people together at the pub down the street. Not because it's a pub, but because it's an Irish pub and they have amazing food and a fun atmosphere that I'm sure even the stodgiest of Dearest's relatives can't ruin. We'll have good food and good laughs and it will be fun all around. Not much of a plan, but it's good enough for me.




And More!


There's a lot more than just all this going on with me and Dearest. But if I write it all out, I'll probably bore you in this post. So on another day, I'll make myself sit down long enough to write about that stuff too. In the meantime, I hope you're enjoying your summer!

If the Shoe Fits - Pt 7

Ella felt silly for all her hopelessness and worries as she followed after the King's servant, who she had found standing outside her door when she'd finished dressing. The emissary was nowhere in sight, but she didn't mind.

Why had she let a mere setback get her so down? Of course there would be another hope, another way to see if the path she most desired was the right path - and then to walk down it.

The appealing scents of various cooked meats and breads grew stronger as they came closer to the dining room and made Ella aware that she had skipped supper the night before. Her stomach let out a growl and she smiled sheepishly at the servant, who kindly smiled back in return.

"What is your name?" she asked the man, suddenly curious.

"I am Liam, miss."

"That's a good strong name, Liam."

"Thank you, miss."

She smiled, and then realized that they had passed the dining room and were headed onward, toward the King's wing of the palace. "Why did we pass the dining room?"

Liam chuckled softly. "His majesty wishes to dine with you in his quarters, I imagine it is for the sake of avoiding your step-family, if it does not offend for me to say so, miss."

Ella smiled at the thought of the King avoiding Amelia. What had she said to drive him off so soon? They;d only had maybe two or three meals together thus far.

They finally came to the ornate door that marked the entrance to the King's quarters and Ella found herself intimidated. The door itself was so large, it looked almost too heavy for a normal person to move.

Liam knocked heavily three times, and then opened the door with apparent ease and announced her.

"The young lady, your Highness."

Liam stepped aside and Ella cautiously moved into the room. She located the King in the room, and dropped a curtsey to him.

"That's all, Liam," the King called out. "You can leave now. Do keep those women away from here, though. I can't handle the lot of them."

Liam nodded and left the room, silently closing the door behind him. Ella found herself nervous at being alone with the King, until he was overcome by a coughing fit. She hadn't heard of the King being sick, especially not with a bad cough. Forgetting her manners, she rushed to his side to support him as the cough racked his body and doubled the big man over. When it had finally subsided, he patted her hand on his shoulder and smiled at her.

"Thank you, sweet Ellandria."

Elle drew back in surprise. "How...How do you know my name, Highness."

The king waved as though dismissing something. "Call me Albert, please. Your father was a dear friend of mine, many years ago. Did anyone ever tell you who you were named after?"

Ella shook her head. Come to think of it, that was a very good question. Ellandria wasn't exactly a common name in the area, how had her father come up with it?

"Sit, dear," the King instructed, gesturing to a nearby chair, "and have some food. I'll tell you stories about your parents."

________________

"Somebody's in trouble."

Amelia resisted the urge to cringe at the grating sound of the singsonged words. She slowly turned in her chair to look at the culprit. "Whatever do you mean, Altheus?"

"Just that, miss. You're in trouble. Or Priscilla is, depending on how you look at it."

Amelia straightened her spine slightly. "Priscilla? What has that child done now?"

"More like what she hasn't done." The fae answered, grinning that horrible, jagged-toothed grin of his. "Which would be gaining a private audience with the King to win his favor."

Amelia sniffed in disdain. "The King is weakening by the moment, his favor won't matter much longer. Aside from that, he won't grant an audience to anyone, not a private one anyway."

"If I were you, Altheus whispered, "I'd find a way."

Amelia's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Why?"

The fae smiled that revolting smile again, making her stomach feel uneasy at once. He really was a horrible creature, and if he hadn't been so useful to her up to this point, she'd certainly have had him killed by now for that crime alone. But he was useful, and seclusion was hard to find, and she was afraid of losing the fellow anyway. It was his magic that had re-sized Elle's precious glass slippers, which her ridiculous mother had worn on her wedding day. Amelia needed to move up in the world again, and Altheus was the way she was going to do it. All she had to do was convince her dolt of a daughter to kill the prince mere days after they were wed. Timing was, of course, going to be the key in that mission. Priscilla was an impressionable girl, easily guided by anonymous whispers from the shadows. The timing would most certainly be the challenge.

Nevertheless, it would work. It had to. She couldn't stay as Hillshire's Lady anymore. She needed something more, something bigger, something....powerful.

'Queen' was right up her alley.

"An audience with the King, you say? Well, that shouldn't be too hard."

__________________________________

Philip slept far into the day and attributed that to the fact that he'd been talking with Priscilla far into the night.  She had proven more interesting than he'd expected, having quite a calm personality when she was not around the other one - Anastasia was it? They were like amplifiers of each other, each one feeding back the nothingness at less and less ignorable volumes.

But when she was not with Anastasia, Priscilla could be herself, as she had been the night before. He'd learned that she loved books, especially the love stories like Romeo and Juliet. When he'd asked her why, finding it a particularly morose and macabre piece himself, she'd simply said that it was her dream to be loved like that. He asked if she had ever been loved, suspecting after meeting the woman that her mother was not very giving in her affections toward her daughters. Priscilla had wept, telling him of her father and how much she missed him, how she resented her mother for killing him and everyone else for not believing her. She clung to him, with her head rested on his shoulder, and wept for her loss for a little while before they moved on to discuss other things.

This morning, he was to take a walk with her and learn about her favorite things to see in a garden. Perhaps he'd learn enough that this cruel fate which had robbed him of the woman he truly wanted, would not feel so cruel after all. Perhaps he could grow to like her, learn her interests and hobbies, and perhaps one day he would even love her.

Yes, he thought to himself as he pulled his boots on, he may even come to love her. Then this whole blasted mess wouldn't be so bad anyway.

If the Shoe Fits - Pt 6

The dance ended slowly. Ella followed the prince's footsteps as they slowed and then stilled completely. His face read uncertainty, confusion, and frustration, and her hopes were raised. She waited for a long minute, searching his eyes.

"You're the one I danced with," he whispered. She nodded in response, having no words. She was so overjoyed that everything would be all right. He knew, and now he would set things straight.

Ella waited, breathless as he stared at her for what seemed like forever. Why wasn't he excited about the news? Why wasn't he rushing off with her in tow to speak to his emissary, to his father? Why wasn't he...doing anything?

"Is something wrong?"

He nodded. "You're the right one, but the shoe didn't fit you."

"So? I'm the one you danced with. You wanted to marry me. What's the problem?"

"I wanted to marry you, but I didn't imagine this problem."

"What problem?" Her voice echoed in the room, and she recognized the frantic pitch of it. She was getting frustrated, losing control of her emotions. Her father had always cautioned her against allowing herself to be too volatile. In response, the prince only sighed and shook his head.

"My promise was an official edict, taken down by the court scribe, set in the record books. I cannot possibly go against it."

"You don't have to. I don't understand what you're trying to say."

He shook his head again. "I cannot marry you, because of the wording of my promise. My ability to rule the people when my father passes relies on my ability to keep my word. My promise was not to marry the girl I danced with. It was to marry the girl whose foot fit the custom-made shoe."

Her heart dropped straight to her toes. "I don't suppose you can re-word your promise?"

Another head shake. "I cannot."

"Is there no way to fix this?"

"There is not."

Ella studied his expression closely. He was hiding something from her. It was there, deep in his eyes, behind what he was saying to her, and in the set of his shoulders. "What aren't you telling me?"

Suddenly he turned angry, his expression clouding as a veil dropped over his eyes. "Madam, if you are finished holding me hostage, there is important business I must attend to. I find that my future wife and I are in desperate need of some time to get to know each other."

With that, he left. He just walked to the door, opened it, and left, closing it behind him. Ella was left in the semi-dark of the unused room, completely stunned. What next? Was she going to stand by for the rest of her life, watching her sister have the life that she should have had? Did she even want the life she should have had if it meant being attached to a man who would not follow his heart's deepest desires, would not use the power she knew he had to alter the conditions of his promise so that he could have what he wanted without jeopardizing the people's opinion of him?

She felt like a fool. One night of dancing and she thought she knew the man. She thought she was in love with him. She thought...

She was wrong. That was the simple fact. With that realization, a sob forced its way through her chest. The strangled sound echoed in the room, making her feel more alone than ever before. What would she do now? How was she going to recover from this one? Did she even want to recover?

What now?

With a heavy heart she left the room and made her way back to her own quarters. She would miss supper, probably be beaten for not being there to dance attendance on her about-to-be-royal half sister. At this point, she  didn't care. She felt as though her spirit were broken, her very soul shattered. She had been in love, and he...

He just walked away.

Ella barely made it to the bed before exhaustion claimed her. She lay on the bed, limbs skewed at odd angles, staring at the piece of sky she could see through the window. Her hopelessness nearly overwhelmed her. After a long while, her mind stopped racing in circles of questions, and she fell asleep.

_________________________________________

What did it mean?

The shoe, the custom made glass shoe that could only have fit one foot in the entire world, fit on the wrong girl's foot. Now he was locked into a promise he'd carelessly worded.One that could not be taken back, not just because it was a promise written down in the records of the palace, but because the promise was made to the one man no one could legally break promises with. He couldn't go back on his word, or alter it at all, because it was a promise made to his father. And a promise to the King was simply unbreakable. To go back on his word to his father would be to set a prescient that many would follow afterward, one of lying to the King and making promises with no intention of keeping them. The kingdom, one governed largely by the people's own sense of honor, integrity, and self-respect, would fall apart.

So how did he get out of this? How did he marry the right girl? Or, how did he marry the wrong one and not hate himself?

He glanced up when he heard a knock on the door of his study. He considered ignoring it, any of the staff would have entered following the knock unless bidden otherwise, and his father would have just walked in. That meant it was his guests - either one of the three he didn't want to see, or the one he did want to see but shouldn't.

When whomever it was knocked a second time, he gave up with a low growl in the back of his throat. He really didn't want to be interrupted right now, he needed to think, but it didn't look like he had a choice. "Come in."

A pale redhead came in and he struggled to hold back his sigh. "What is it, Priscilla?"

"I...I um..."

Philip found himself smiling at her shyness. "Come over here and sit down, Dear."

She seemed grateful of the offer. She quickly approached and sat in a chair on the other side of the desk.

"What can I do for you?" he prompted.

"I just..thought we should get to know each other."

He smiled, and nodded. "What would you like to know first?"

______________________________

"Ella?"

Ella woke slowly. She didn't want to wake up. She wanted to stay asleep. She wanted to disappear into the darkness.

"Ella, wake up."

She opened her eyes and peered at the family fairy. "What is it, godmother?"

"Why are you crying?"

"I'm not crying. I'm sleeping."

"You were crying. Why?"

Ella sat up with a sigh. She didn't want to talk about this, but godmother wasn't going to allow her to avoid it.  "I met him, Philip. I met him yesterday."

The fairy beamed. "Oooh!" she squealed "Tell me, how did it go?"

"Horribly."

"Horribly? How could it have gone horribly? He recognized you, right?"

"Yes, and he danced with me again, and he knows the truth."

"So what's so horrible about that?"

"He's...not going to do anything about it."

There was a long moment of silence as the fairy tried to understand what Ella was saying. Recognition hit, and then fury. "He's just going to marry Priscilla?"

Ella nodded, and the fairy stamped her foot. "That nancy!"

"He says there's nothing he can do about it. He made a promise, and he can't break it, for the sake of his ability to rule the people."

The fairy nodded, a little more calm. "Yes, a promise to the King. It cannot be broken, to do so would be to jeopardize the very principles the kingdom was built on. He has to keep that promise to the very word."

"What can I do, godmother? I'm not sure I even want to fight for him anymore, since he doesn't seem to want to do anything on his end."

"The only one who can get a promise to the King revoked is the King. You could try taking it up with him."

Ella scoffed. "As if I could get an audience with the King."

The fairy shrugged. "You never know. In the meantime, look out. Amelia may have a fairy after all, a rogue. I don't know for sure, but there are rumors starting. I'll let you know what I learn."

"A rogue? What does that mean?"

The fairy pressed her lips together for a minute, as if she wasn't sure she should say any more.

"Godmother, tell me."

The fairy sighed. "When males of my kind lose their mate, particularly to a tragedy, they have a tendency to go rogue. Basically, fairies aren't very good at keeping themselves balanced out. We all need someone to help balance us. Even I have someone who keeps me in check. Once a fairy finds a mate, they become the balancing force of each other. The only balancing force. The females can often go on and find a close friend to be a new balancer. But the males...they don't normally do so well. Fortunately tragic accidents are infrequent among our people. Sometimes it does still happen. And when it does, the male usually goes rogue."

"Are the rogues dangerous?"

"Yes, very. Think evil incarnate with fairy powers."

"Why would Amelia have one?"

"I don't know."

Ella sighed again. "It's so frustrating not to know so much."

There was a quick knock at Ella's door followed by a male voice. "Miss Ella, may I come in?"

She exchanged a confused glance with the fairy, and then shrugged. "Yes."

The emissary opened the door and bowed slightly at the waist. "Miss Ella, I know it is early in the morning, but the King takes his breakfast before dawn and wishes you to join him."

Ella stared, stunned. The king...wanted her to have breakfast with him? Wait..."Breakfast before dawn?"

"Between you and me, miss, it's more of a late-night snack for His Highness."

She smiled at that, and nodded. "I'll be right there, thank you."

The man nodded in response and left. He seemed to have not even noticed the fairy, who smiled at Ella and flashed a thumbs-up before disappearing.

Breakfast with the king?

*The only one who can get a promise to the King revoked is the King. You could try taking it up with him.*

Ella smiled at this new hope. Maybe, just maybe, things were going to be okay after all.

My Dad. -and a small rant-

The marketing media (Hallmark, etc) seems to treat Mother's day like it's the end all and be all of holidays. It also seems to treat Father's day and graduation season like they're the same holiday and are of equal (un)importance. I don't understand this. I mean, sure, graduation is a big deal. You survived school, you made it all the way through, you completed, and for some of the people in my age group that was a real struggle! However, making it the same as or greater than Father's day? Sure, dads are harder to buy presents for (how many times have we fallen back on the tool set or the tie or the "dad is great" coffee mug?) but that doesn't make them any less important.

And sure, they didn't spend 20 hours in labor pushing you out after 9 months carrying you like an alien parasite in their bodies. But, they do a lot of other and still really important stuff. Dad stuff.

Let me tell you about my dad.

My dad isn't perfect. He became a dad way before he was actually ready to even be a grownup and he's had to do a lot of learning along the way. But he's a good dad, in that he's always been there as a dad and he's always done his best to do right by the family. Even in his worst moments, I know he was still just doing the best he knew how to do.

My dad got our family through a lot. When I was really young, my parents and I moved to Indiana from California because Dad had been promised a job - that he didn't have when he got there. For a little while, we were homeless, and he got us through it. Later on, when there were three kids instead of just me, a coworker got mad at my dad and threatened our family - he got us through that one too, praying and trusting God to provide a way out of danger's path and then listening and seeing the path God provided.

Through the years, I've watched my dad work a lot of jobs where he was paid less than he deserved, worked harder than he deserved, and treated really poorly. He worked those jobs to take care of us. From Northern Harvest to Cintas, to painting fences for the school district, my dad has always done whatever he could to keep the family taken care of. He's come home exhausted and dropped into bed only to wake up exhausted a few hours later so he can go out and work. He's lived for months on end with a sleep schedule that consisted mostly of catnaps in the drivers' seat of a limo. He's worked through sickness, stress, extreme pain, all to make sure that no matter what we were taken care of.

In the times when he didn't have a job, he swallowed his pride and asked for help - something he probably never would have done for himself. He's set his dreams aside, over and over again, because sometimes reaching them meant risking his ability to provide for us - and he just won't do that. He's taken jobs that were beneath him, and jobs that were way out of his comfort zone. Throughout my entire life, one of the reliable facts is that my dad works hard, and he does whatever it takes to take care of the family.

Dad wasn't the one in pain when I was born, but since the day he found out I was on the way I know he's spent a lot of time worrying about and taking care of my mom and I - and all of my other siblings, as they came along. He's sacrificed a lot, spent a lot of sleepless nights, probably put his health and his safety at serious risk, to make sure that we were provided for. And he wasn't content with all of that. Even when he was working as a chauffeur, and he barely got ten minutes in a given hour to rest - much less sleep - he still did his best to be a present dad; to show up at events, to help with homework, to be there for dinner. As a kid, it's all stuff I didn't see, how hard he was working and how hard he tried. But recently, as I look at what it takes for Dearest and I to run our company, I'm beginning to recognize just how hard my dad really did work, the lengths he really did go to, the effort he put in - all to take care of us and try to be a good dad in the meantime.

My dad's not perfect. Nobody's is. Even Dearest won't be perfect as a dad. But just because Dad is out of the house more often, is too tired to play more often, and is WAY harder to buy gifts for, doesn't mean that he's not important. Graduation is awesome, but what you went through to finish high school is nowhere near what most dads go through to keep their families safe and cared for.

So a note to Hallmark: Just because the two events happen in June - and both are pretty hard to buy gifts for - doesn't mean they're the same thing. "Dads and grads' is a cute way to market, but one really is a bit more important than the other - imagine trying to combine Mother's day with Administrative Staff Appreciation day!

The song that was stuck in my head this morning:

"Give me a second, I
I need to get my story straight.
My friends are in the bathroom getting
Higher than the empire state.
My lover, she is waiting for me
Just across the bar.
My seat's been taken by some sunglasses
Asking 'bout a scar
and
I know I gave it to you months ago.
I know you're trying to forget.
But between the drinks and subtleties
And the holes in my apology, you know
I'm trying hard to take it back.

"So if by the time
the bar closes
and you feel like falling down
I'll carry
you home.

"Tonight
We are young.
So let's set the world on fire
We can burn brighter
than the sun"


I still don't understand this song. Every time I think I've figured out what it's about, I hear another lyric that I can finally actually understand (it takes a while to know what they're saying) and the whole thing flips again. Nevertheless, it's stuck in my head. Especially the first verse.

The Christian and the Homosexual

Just saw someone rant about how Christianity sucks because of the unaccepting and hateful behavior many Christians exhibit toward homosexuals. I'd like to clarify, just in case that person can see my page, and for anyone else who agrees with that person. Christianity is not hateful or unaccepting.  Christianity is loving. Religious self-righteousness is often hateful and unaccepting, but there is definitely a difference. Christianity is the practice of endeavoring to be like Christ. Christ loved everyone, even the people who live in sin. Homosexuality is a sin, according to the Bible and the teachings of Christ. However, Christ - and those who endeavor to be like him - would never be hateful or unaccepting of a person because of the choices they've made.

We, the Christians, don't hate you. We are disappointed by your actions, but we understand that all have sinned and fallen short - meaning everyone, even and perhaps especially us. Understanding this, our disappointment does not affect our ability to love you as people, as beloved creations of God. Just like siblings can't ever really hate each other - no matter how far off the right path one of them may go - we Christians can't really hate you. It's not in our DNA to hate. It's not in our wiring, in our belief system. Our moral compass steers us the other way. And though we may sometimes struggle with this - for all have sinned - we struggle because we choose to endeavor to be like Christ.

Jesus told us very plainly that our mission is to love others.

So though you, my friend, may have run into more than a few self-proclaimed Christians who were hateful and unaccepting of you because they did not agree with your lifestyle; please understand that this does not mean Christianity is this way. Please do not allow your opinion of us to be jaded by those who are still learning what Jesus meant when he said "love your neighbor." We, the Christians, love you. Our hearts are broken by your actions, but we love you anyway. Just as Jesus does.