Star Born Unicorn

I remember a time when no one walked on the moon, save in the science fiction stories I read, or movies I watched.  Hell, wanna get real, when I was born no one had even launched a satellite; I beat Sputnik I to the gate by five months and one day, and it would be another four years before a Russian went up for one orbit around the Earth, mostly because he was a very good parachutist–but that’s another story for another day.

I was big into science fiction as a kid, which meant I was big into space–’cause, we’re talking about reading stories that had been written during the Golden Age of Science Fiction–and that meant I was into everything that happened regarding space flight.  We had no internet, so everything came from papers, from radio and TV news, from Life Magazine–which used to print most of the pictures released to the public–and from the few books pertaining to the American efforts, as those wacky Soviets just didn’t want to talk about their stuff.  Hell, they even named their launch complex after a town that was hundreds of miles away, just so we’d get confused . . .

Whenever I had the chance I watched whatever was shown.  I tried to keep up; I tried to gather as much information as possible.  It’s not easy when you’re nine, ten, eleven years old to get your hands on stuff that wasn’t normally available to the public, or had limited accessibility.  That’s the 1960’s for you:  we just weren’t on the cutting edge of the future, you know.

I saw it all.  I watched every mission that went into orbit.  I watch every one that went to the moon.  And I watched, to the best of my abilities, every walk upon the moon.  Even saw a few cars drive around, saw three Lunar Modules take off, and once watched one of Galileo’s experiments get proven.  It was a great time for science, and an even better time if you were a geek.

Those times are long gone.  We haven’t walked on the Moon since December, 1972.  If you removed the trips to the Moon, we haven’t had anyone higher than a few hundred kilometers above the Earth since the last days of the Gemini Program.  While we’ve had a continuous presence in orbit for a long time, we’ve lost our will to explore.

There will come a time, probably within the next five years, that everyone who has ever walked on the moon will have died.  The youngest of the walkers is 76; the oldest 82.  After that, we might have to wait until the middle of the 21st Century before someone does it again–unless people do start walking on the Moon in the late 2020’s, as some are saying.  And the chances are good those people who do the walking again are Chinese, because it seems like no one here gives much of a shit anymore.

In the U.S., there is a definite feel that science is for people who are just too damn smart for their own good, and who are pretty anti-religious as well.  That ignorance is just as good as intelligence, and in some ways better.  When you have people yelling at Bill Nye, as they did a few years back when he spoke in Texas, that the Moon gives off light like the Sun ’cause the Bible says so, one has to wonder where they hell we are going.  When you still have people saying they have “proof” that we never landed on the Moon, you have to wonder how we are ever going to continue.  And when you hear people state, as “fact”, that the Earth is only 6,000 years old, and they have “proof”, it makes you want to just end it all.

One day we, as a species, will get back out into The Black.  It might not be us as a country, but someone will go.  Someone is going to take more steps–on the Moon, maybe Mars, maybe somewhere else.

Say it won’t happen?  You’re surely wrong.  ‘Cause one day I’m gonna hop on my unicorn and take my own trip . . .

And join those who can tell me what it was really like to skip along in the dirt of another world.

Dreamers and Demons

So many strange things today.  Let me tell you, I didn’t want to get out of bed, because of the things my mind was showing me last night–

See, the last few weeks I’ve complained that I haven’t seen many of my dreams, that I can’t remember them.  So, as I was dozing off last night–or, I should say, trying to doze off–I was repeating a mantra that I was going to remember, going to remember . . .

Remember I did.  Oh, boy, did I.  Can’t tell you a lot of the detail, but it seemed to consist of (a) being with some woman I’d never seen before showing porn in a classroom full of middle school kids, (b) doing very detailed measurement of certain areas of her body, (c) finding out she was a cop, and lastly, (d) hooking up with her partner and riding shotgun with him as we took some suspect down to a river, left him belted in the car, then went full-on murderball on his ass as we drove the car into the river and let him drown.

Yes, good times had by all!

That was disturbing.  I mean, yeah, I helped smoke some guy in a rather horrible way, and even though it was in my dream, it seemed that, and the sex stuff, was a rather strange way for me subconscious to remind me of–what?  Just want the hell was it telling me?

So into work . . . and I discover, to my embarrassment, it’s the birthday of H. P. Lovecraft.  One of my favorite writers, and here I was completely forgetful that just over a hundred and twenty years ago he was born.  He and his demons, his racism, and his talent.  He was the first horror writer I read, and it was through him I eventually got into Stephen King.  Lovecraft also, in his own way, pushed me into role playing, as Call of Cthulhu, Second Edition, was the first role playing game I bought.

Lovecraft was a guy with a lot of demons.  It seems like anyone creative has some ifrit on their back, and that sucker is constantly flappin’ it wings so it can keep you wrapped up in bad mojo.  This guy laid it all out for everyone to see.  He was a crazy, misogynous, racist dude who wrote crazy fiction–and spent a hell of a lot of time encouraging other writers to keep at their craft.

I posted a happy birthday for him–like he’s going to see it, right?  Well, maybe a Deep One will see it when they check their wall; these days you can never tell.

No sooner do I get that posted that I learn Tony Scott, director and producer, brother of Ridley Scott, jumped to his death yesterday.  He drove out to the Vincent Thomas Bridge, climbed the ten foot fence that’s suppose to keep people from leaping, and went over the side.  They found a note in his office, so it wasn’t a spur of the moment thing: it was something he thought about, and planned.

And executed.

I’ve seen these demons as well; they are the darkness of your life that tries so hard to consume you.  Even today, after decades of fighting them, learning to keep them at bay, they are there, waiting, sort of watching with their yellow eyes, knowing that every so often I’ll slip up, and let them in.

This last time, I did the right thing; I spoke with people, I got help.  Too many don’t.  Too many are consumed.

Gotta fight the darkness.  Never let the demons win.  Gotta stay with your dreams, even when they are strange.

Strange beats dead any day of the week.


As much fun as I poke at people who are often thought of as geeks, I’m right in there with them–for the most part.  I’m a gamer, but not one of those newfangled TV or computer games.  No, sir.  I’m a table top role player, the sort of person who sits down at a table with a bag of dice, and sets about slaying the dragon, or blowing shit up.  Usually the later, as the only dragons I ever met were in Shadowrun.  Happy elves and singing dwarfs make me want to slit their throats when everyone is asleep . . .

GenCon is going on this very moment.  That’s like the Lourdes of gaming for some people, and it’s always a big deal.  I used to attend GenCon back when it was in the MECCA Complex in Milwaukee, back when us folk close to Chicago used to sing, “Hey der, Ho der, Yah, hey hey, Stay in Milwaukee and Game!”  Back then there was a sort of funky, low rent feel to everything, almost like you were gaming in your parent’s basement, but when I was there running four games, early in the morning and late at night, I couldn’t have had a better time.

That’s all in the past.  These days it’s in Indianapolis, and it holds sway over the burb for four day in August.  It’s a good time for all, though given the state of the gaming industry, it’s not quite as–well, role playing-centric as it once was.  I suppose I could bitch and grumble like some old fart who keeps finding kids on his lawn, but no:  the future is here, and why get pissed?  I’m happy people are still gaming, I’m thrilled to see how independent companies have started selling through the Internet.

I’m not at GenCon this year.  2008 saw my last appearance, and the year before that I’d had such a horrible experience at the con that I almost didn’t return in ’08.  I ran games again, I played a little . . . I had a great time.

Then I was laid off, no work, no spare income, and GenCon had to wait.

Now, here I am, working, a little extra money, and yet . . . I kept saying, “Naw, I don’t have to go.  I don’t need to go.  Hell, I don’t even want to go.”  Yep, I’d decided I didn’t need the con this year, because–well, it’s not because of science, that’s for sure.

I blew it off, and now I’m feeling a bit of regret.  Not because going gives me an excuse to spend money, but because . . . I could use the fun.

There has been a singular lack of fun in my life for a while, and just wandering the halls would brighten my spirits.  Maybe I’d see some people I know.  Maybe I’d even see something cool that I don’t need, but want.  If I’d thought ahead, I could be styling in my Ponythulhu tee shirt, letting everyone know that Friendship is, indeed, Madness, and getting my gaming grove back.

I let work get in the way of enjoying myself, and now I’m feeling bummed as hell.

Never mind.  I’ve got my mind made up . . . next year, I’m coming, project deadlines or not.

And if they think they’re gonna stop me, they best make a saving roll . . .

Storytellers Assemble!

Today is going to be a very busy day.  Right now I’m blogging–really, if you’re reading this, then it happened, no?  Then, I’m heading out with family for a very early, 10 AM showing, of The Avengers in 3D.  I will be the first to admit, I’ve never seen a movie in this newfangled 3D the kids are all talking about, but I’ve had recommendations from other folks who, like me, aren’t that inclined to shell out big bucks just to have crap jump out at them, and they’ve told me, “Spend the money, Ray.  You’ll like it.”  So, early show, Tony snarking, Hulk smashing, Black Widow kicking butt.  Yeah, it’s a morning.

Then it’s back to the house, and cooking.  I’ll be on the grill today, first with hamburgers for lunch, then slow-cooking a couple of slabs of ribs for dinner.  Ummmm, meat . . . I’m sure, about 7 PM tonight, when I’m bloated and feeling like something huge is lodged in my lower intestine, the cows that gave their lives will be watching me from somewhere, going, “Yeah, got your ass, didn’t we?”

Oh, did I mention it’ll be 95 F, 35 C, about one o’clock this afternoon?  It always seems like when I want to cook out, it’s hotter than hell.  So it’s good that I’m at least doing the ribs for dinner, because I only have to venture outside once every hour or so.  Otherwise, screw it:  like I need to be standing over a hot grill.  I know:  “But it’s a dry heat!”  Yeah, so’s a blowtorch.

This brings up the question:  when will I have time to write?

I hear people say all the time, “I’d love to write, but real life gets in the way.”  Yes, it really does.  Unless it’s what you do for a living, you have to find a way to fit your five hundred to a thousand words a day into some kind of Chronic Hysteratic Loop that’s going to let you write quite a lot, while still finding time for everything else.

Then I started thinking:  what does Stephen King do on the weekends?  I mean, really:  I know he writes for a living, but think about it.  I’m sure there’s shopping, and, in the past, he probably got out and did a little cooking on the porch now and then, probably with a beverage nearby, and then watched a little TV . . . I mean, I’m guessing during the weekend, Stephen, and William Gibson, and a whole lot of other writer types did much the same thing I’m going to do today.

So, while I have ribs on the grill, I’ll have Scrivener open, and I’ll start a new story:  Diners at the Memory’s End.  Yes, I’m not finished with the final edit on Her Demonic Majesty, but I’ve only six chapters left to edit, and I’ve been itching to get into this new story for a week.  I can write some new copy for a while, then jump into editing a little later, yes?  I mean, isn’t that was real writers do?  Sometimes work on a couple of things at the same time?

As writers, we make our own rules.  We spend all our time building new universes, so why not set the rules about how we want to write?  I put in a lot of long days in order to write.  I’m up early to blog, then I either work, or do other things during the day, then it’s home to eat, a little chat with friends, and then, back to the stories.  I have done more than a few twenty hour days fitting in everything I want to do, because there are things I want to do.  I even remember someone online yelling at me to get to bed, because I’d remarked I was putting the final touching on an edit, but I was getting close to having been awake for twenty two hours, and man, was I sleepy . . .

Even if we were working for a living as writers, real life is still going to get in the way.  Your eight hours a day you’d spend storytelling is probably going to be interrupted by phone calls, and kids wanting something, and IMs from friends (and perhaps a few fans), maybe a discussion with an editor . . . I imagine you never have the full peace of being able to sit and just write with the door locked and the ideas flowing.  There’s always going to be one thing or another going on, and we’ll need to deal with the situation when it arises.

Like it or not, sometimes you gotta become your own superhero just to get through your day of storytelling–

‘Cause if you don’t save your own imaginary world, who will?

Four on the Floor

No, this isn’t a confession to the Wonderland Murders, though you never know, do you?

A friend of mine, Peneleope Price, the very nice author and owner of the Priceless blog, tagged me in a post.  She tagged me and said, “You have to do this Meme of Four, Ray.  You have to write out four things in each group and tell people about yourself.  You must do it!  Do it, or your immortal soul is mine!”

Well, now, not that I wouldn’t hand over my soul to Penelope–only because that’s such a sexy name–but (1) I don’t have a soul to give, and (2) if I did have one, My Muse took it, long ago, she hides it in her heart, and she will kick your ass to keep it there.  So, nah!

That doesn’t mean I don’t want to talk about these things.  After all, my life is both interesting and boring, and some people may get a kick out of the answers I set out below.

So, without further ado . . .

Four Places I’ve Worked/Jobs I’ve Had:
a. Akzo Chemicals, North America
b. United Technology Corporation
c. Hover Trucking
d. Playboy Enterprises

Four Places I’ve Lived:
a. Cedar Lake, IN
b. Hammond, IN
c. Merrillville, IN
d. Indianapolis, IN

Four Movies I Could Watch Again & Again:
a. Forbidden Planet
b. Them!
c. Apocalypse Now (either version)
d. Inception

Four Television Shows I Watch:
a. Doctor Who
b. Project Runway
c. Sherlock
d. Real Time with Bill Maher

Four Authors I Enjoy:
a. Arthur C. Clarke
b. Stephen Baxter
c. China Miéville
d. Charlaine Harris

Four Places I Have Travelled To:
a. Hong Kong
b. Amsterdam
c. Paris
d. Bruges, Belgium

Four Websites I Visit Daily:
a. Facebook
b. The Mary Sue
c. Cracked
d. The Rude Pundit

Four of My Favorite Foods:
a. Cheesecake
b. Steak
c. Peppers stuffed with black beans and cheese
d. Italian sausage and peppers.

Four Places I’d Rather Be:
a. Working on a novel
b. In the mountains
c. Hanging with my Muse
d. Gaming (yes, I am a gamer; yes, I’ve been doing it since 1974; yes, I haven’t went insane and killed dozens of people because the devil managed to get to me through my D&D dice and tell me how I can rule the world . . .  though I did date a gamer girl once.  Does that count?)

Four People I Want to Tag:

Ah, and here’s where it gets tricky.  I’m not much for tagging, and I really want to know a blogger before I go laying the tag on them.  For now I’ll say, “I’m thinking about it,” and leave it at that.

Say Yes!

It’s no secret I’ve been sick for the better part of a week, because, like everything else in my life, I’ve told you about it.  The weekend was horrible, and it prevented me from driving back to The Undisclosed Location because the last thing you want to do is get behind the wheel of your car and drive 150 miles when you eyes hurt.

So, finally, yesterday, I was able to muster up enough strength to drive for any distance.  I waited until about 4:30 or so to leave, but leave I did.

It was On The Road Again Time, and away I went.

Now, normally, I’ll think about stuff all the way down.  Sometimes I’ll think about stories, sometimes about games, sometimes about things that affect me personally.

Last night, I did none of those things.  I put on some music and just listened.  No getting into my thoughts or ideas, just listen.  And take in the darkness.

It’s no secret I’m bummed about my current lot in life.  I’m staying away from home, doing a job that, to me, is very transitory.  I’m looking for work closer to home as we speak.  But I’m also writing, working towards my dream of becoming a professional writer.  It’s a pain in the butt, and the last month has been a strain.  I think it’s affected the way I write–or at least it has until about a week ago.

The combination of being sick and doing something I don’t much care for twisted me pretty hard.  Throw in a few other things, and I was ripe for slipping away and falling into the abyss again.  But that hasn’t happened.  For some reason I’ve been clinging onto reality and hope, because the last thing I’ve wanted to do is crash and burn.

One of the things I’ve latched onto has been a song:  Telegraph Road, by Dire Straits.  It’s a composition that, in my opinion, makes it one of the greatest songs ever written.  If you’ve got fourteen minutes, click on the link and give it a listen.  It’s about a real place in American, the area along Telegraph Road in Michigan, and it’s a song of creation, hope, desolation, and despair.  Just the sort of thing writers love to dig into.

I’ve listened to this maybe three dozen times in the last four days, and I keep listening.  I don’t know why; maybe I’m just struck by the majesty of the song, maybe the act of creativity that came about to make this song leaves me in awe.  Whatever it is, I haven’t been able to get enough of the song.

But I didn’t have that last night.  I had something else.  I had the second song disk from Bubblegum Crises, and for the hell of it I threw it in.

Bubblegum Crises was an anime released in the late 1980’s and early 1990’s, and it what you would call seminal.  It was one of the first direct to video animes to have a huge aftermarket in terms of music, and thought most of their CDs are out of print these days, the music is still much sought after.  It’s a combination of hard-driving J-Pop and soft, melodic ballads.  It’s really good–you have to trust me on this.

I listened along until the track, Say, Yes! came on.  I love this song; really do.  Its starts off slow, and just keeps building.  When it reaches its crescendo, then it lets you down very easy on the way to fade out.  I listened, then when it was over, I listened again.  And then again.

Something clicked.  I put the song on repeat, keep the car going about 70, and tried a different route back to the shack.

Driving through the night, I just kept going, not feeling bad, but for the first time feeling very good and sure of myself.  I felt–dare I say it?–happy.  For the first time since making this move I didn’t feel like I wanted to find a steak knife and run it up and down my right arm until the pain went away.

I felt so good that as I passed the downtown of the city where I work, I flipped it off and laughed.  Screw you.  You ain’t getting me down.

Then I set up my computer and got to work writing.  800 or so words later, I finished Chapter 9 of Couples Dance.  Nothing fancy, just getting the words down and doing what I’m suppose to do–which is write.

Telegraph Road is also about the possibility of redemption, and you find it here, in this stanza:


Well just believe in me baby and I’ll take you away
From out of this darkness and into the day
From these rivers of headlights these rivers of rain
From the anger that lives on the streets with these names
‘cos I’ve run every red light on memory lane
I’ve seen desperation explode into flames
And I don’t want to see it again …


I have my dreams, I have my ideas, and I have the ability to do it all.  I just gotta do it.  And this damn job ain’t gonna make my life hell.

I am not defined by the misery around me.

Cause when you see the English translation of Say, Yes!, you know why it was speaking to me:


Say yes!
I just live more passionately than yesterday…
Say yes!
…because I’ve known a loneliness that can’t be healed.
Say yes!
If you can hear me,
answer me, saying:


Damn right, man.  It’s time to start singing.


Tri Tseluvki za Nova Godina

Being sick is a pain.  Here I am, back at work, and the last 5 days I’ve not only been sick, but it’s resisting treatment like a mother.  Three years sitting at home and I had one sniffle.  Back to work–BOOM!  Sick.  Coincidence?  I think not!

It didn’t help that I had to so a lot of running yesterday.  Friday was a long drive, and yesterday I spent the day with my daughter, who was doing a competition for her middle school orchestra.  She plays cello, and plays very well, and she was part of a group ensemble as well as a member of a quartet.  So it was run her over to the school, wait around, watch her play, wait some more, run some more . . . it was pretty much a most of the day thing for me.

Since I wasn’t writing, I was thinking.  Thinking about stories, but mostly . . . I was thinking about Kerry.

Kerry is an old role playing character who is, at the moment, on hold.  The game, that is; it’s sort of in limbo.  Kerry’s girlfriend, Annie, has been way busy in real life, and because of that it’s been pretty much impossible for her to do anything with her character.

That doesn’t mean I don’t.  I dream up story lines for them all the time; it’s something I do to keep me amused.  And to keep the brain working, because the moment you let the idea machine die down, then you’re screwed.  You might be able to get work churning out scripts for Micheal Bay movies, but that’s about all you’re going to do, my friend.

My mind went to a part of history that, for Kerry and Annie, takes place from Boxing Day, 2015, to New Years Day, 2016.  At that point he’s 15 and she’s 16, they’re on holiday from school, and Annie’s gotten permission to visit her boyfriend for the holidays.  Both parents know, so all is cool.  Kerry lives in Cardiff, Wales, and Annie lives in Pamporovo, Bulgaria, and getting from Point A to Point B takes very little time, since they use magic to get around.

Yeah, Kerry and Annie are able to do that.  Very cool when you’re able to skip flying coach for 5 hours.

So everything is set for the Yule visit.  The plans were made back in August, things were made very cool, parents are looking forward to letting the kids spend more time together–

Yeah, but lets throw in a twist of semi-epic proportions.

See, Kerry has a problem.  Well, it’s not a problem, but it can be a freak-out for people who aren’t quite used to having an open mind:

Kerry’s also a girl.

Not a girl in that he’s got both genitals or something like that.  Nope.  In his history he finds out that he would have had a sister, but two years before he was born his mother miscarried with her.  It would seem, however, that something of her was left behind, and when Kerry was conceived and began to develop, this–call it an essence–latched on and became part of him.

So, for the longest time, deep down inside he had this female part of him that was always there, but could only appear when he wanted it to show.  And once he began learning transformitive magic, this part of him began to knock on his brain and let him know she was there–

So by 2015, Kerry has known he can become a girl, a full and complete girl, and so has Annie.  And so do both sets of parents.

Where does the problem come into play?  Kerry has to have bi-annual physicals, so that the people who keep track of all this magic stuff can see how he and she are developing.  He’s a rather unusual person, and this sort of condition comes around maybe once every 75 to 100 years.  And it was during his physical at the beginning of October that caused all hell to break loose–

That was when she had her first period.  Oh, sure, it was a little late, but when you’ve only been a girl part-time, it’s easy to miss that sort of thing.

The worst part is, when he’s having his period while in “girl form”, as Kerry likes to say, he can’t switch back to being a boy; there’s just too much trauma going on inside her body to allow it.  So he gets “stuck”, and thus it becomes necessary for him to stay as his now fully actualized female half, Cassidy.

Now, Cassidy is trying to figure out how to control her body, how to lessen her cycles and reduce them to the point where she only has to deal with this for maybe a day, but for now, Kerry has needed to adjust his life so that when it comes time to have “the monthlies”, he becomes Cassidy and . . . deals.

She knows her cycles–which I figured out months ago–and Kerry becomes Cassidy when needed so she can work on her body.  And with her cycles, it turns out that with the coming of the Yule Holiday, it’s going to be Kerry going to bed on Christmas Eve, but it’ll be Cassidy coming down to enjoy Christmas.

So Annie shows up all ready to spend the rest of Yule with her–girlfriend.  Yeah, she’s cool with it.  She knows the guy she fell in love with is inside that cute, red headed (or as Annie and Kerry would say, “ginger”), pink and black glass frame wearing girl, and it’s not stopped them from remaining a couple.

Cassidy still feels a little bad, though.  She’d really wanted Annie to spend time with her as Kerry, but damn that dim red tide, you know?  So, knowing a couple of months before this was coming, Kerry made plans . . .

From Boxing Day to New Year’s Eve, they are out and about, seeing the sights of Cardiff, shopping, relaxing, just being a couple of girls off for Yule.  One day Cassidy teleports Annie and Cassidy’s parent to London for lunch and some sightseeing–yeah, she can do that, and Annie and she are pretty good at that.

But the real fun comes New Year’s Eve.

First, both girls get all dressed up.  Pretty dressed, dress shoes, makeup, hair, jewelry . . . Cassidy actually enjoys this: she was told by a friend to “embrace your inner beauty”, and she does.  Annie knows they are going somewhere for dinner, but she doesn’t know where.

When the time comes, Cassidy and Annie say goodbye to Cassidy’s parents, she takes Annie’s hand, and they teleport–

Off to a restaurant they both visited, and loved, when they were in Paris over the summer.  Annie is very happy, because she remembers the fun they had here, eating and talking and falling even more in love with Kerry, and he with her.  The girls enjoy their evening, but when 10:30 rolls around Cassidy says they have to go, it’s very important because they have an appointment.

Annie goes along with it, not knowing what’s happening.  She finds out moments later when Cassidy takes her hand, and they teleport again–

This time to Annie’s house in Pamporovo, Bulgaria.  They surprise her parents, who weren’t expecting to see her again until the end of school.  Cassidy said she thought they might enjoying seeing in the new year with Annie, and all do just that, with lots of hugs and toasts and nibbling on little treats that Annie’s mother just happened to make.

Of course, at midnight, Cassidy and Annie steal out onto her back porch, and have a kiss, something quick but passionate, because Annie doesn’t want to be discovered.

It’s 12:30 AM, and time to go.  Cassidy takes Annie’s hand and they teleport–

Back to Paris.  See, Bulgaria is GMT +2, and Paris is GMT +1, so it’s 11:30 PM back in the City of Lights, which means it’s still 2015.  Time to bring in the new year again, and they do so from the roof of a building, surrounded by a few other wizards and witches who are enjoying the fireworks going off around the Eiffel Tower.

They wait until almost 12:30 again, and once more Cassidy teleports them–

Back to her home.  Cardiff is GMT +0 time, and once again they’re back in the last half hour of 2015.  They explain what they’ve done, which Cassidy’s parents find amazing.  But when you have a son/daughter with magical powers, hey, this becomes the norm.

And at the stoke of midnight Cassidy and Annie creep into the kitchen and have another kiss, and this time Annie says the words that make up the title of this post (translated: “Three kisses for New Years”), followed by, “How can I be so lucky to have you?”

The story didn’t stop there, however.  Oh, no.  They finally go off to bed.  They are sharing a room–why not?  They’re both girls, right?  No harm there.  Of course, when they’re getting ready, Annie is very huggy, and very kissy, and as the lights in the room go off, it seems as if they’ve left their flannels on the floor and that they’re going to do something they’ve yet to explore–

I have to admit, I whispered Annie’s name as I climbed into bed myself last night.  Not surprising: I’m close to Annie’s “owner”, I guess you could say, and I miss our interaction.  And of late there has been a lot of loneliness in my life, so slipping back into the lives of Annie and Kerry–and by extension, Cassidy–not only helped pass the time while I waited for my daughter to play, but helped reaffirm my feelings that love does exist, that it’s there for us to have an enjoy–and sometimes you find that perfect love, like Annie and Kerry have found.  Even when one of them is busting gender lines, it doesn’t stop them loving each other for who they are.

The least any of us could wish for are three kisses on New Years.  And with the coming of tomorrow three times, you have three times to live your life to the fullest–

Or wish for that special someone to come along and make it complete.