It’s going to be a church, because there aren’t enough of those around here. We are next door to the Jewish temple. A block away is the Baptist church. Across the street is a Mormon church. Now my back yard will have a Jehovah’s Witness Hall. So, I guess we are kinda covered in case of some religious apocalypse or something.

It’s like every little boy (and big boy)’s dream come true.

We went to MegaCon in Orlando. My first convention ever. The most obvious reason for that is duh…people. And just as expected, I hated that part. Crowds of people, E.V.E.R.Y.W.H.E.R.E. It is a very hard thing for a person who is as introverted as I am to fathom being around that for very long. I was determined to meet Wil. It is the only reason I braved the convention. The con was anxiety inducing to say the least. But, I did it and my life is forever changed because of it.

Did I tell you I got to meet Wil Wheaton?

We got up before the crack of dawn (thanks DLST, you freak). It’s not like I was sleeping anyway. Drove the two hours to Orlando from our town, and arrived at the convention center about one and a half hours before the gates opened. I knew it might not even be early enough. We had our tickets and I had pre-purchased my time slot for the photo op with Mr. Wheaton, but did not know anything about how the autographs worked. Thanks to a wonderful dude who works for the convention, we had a way to get to the spot for autographs as quickly as possible once the doors opened. The gates opened and away I went. I swear I did not full out run, I did walk fast. I promise I didn’t even knock anyone down. I got through the gate and as the nice man said, I took a right at the Rancor. My husband was only a few feet behind me. I saw Wil’s table and quickly scanned the tape on the floor and figured out where to stand. Then it hit me. I was FIRST in line. Holy shit holy shit holy shit. Up until that point, even with all the planning and dice bag knitting and everything else, it hadn’t hit me. I was about to meet Wil Wheaton. I was first in line to meet an artist I have admired for more of my life then not.

There was no one at his table yet. I stood there in my spot to wait patiently. I looked over at my husband next to me and I was all like, “Ohmygoddude, I’m friggin first, how the hell did that happen?” Then, I felt a person walk past me on the other side. It.was.him. That was when I kindasorta may have lost it a little, internally of course. He was walking up to his table, he came in the way the people do, just walked up like he was another con-goer. Typing in his phone, like we all do. Ten seconds after that I felt my phone vibrate…I knew he had just tweeted something. I hurried and got the stuff I had for him and the book I wanted him to sign out of my backpack. I tried to compose myself so I would speak words and not gibberish to him. I was shaking, and excited, and nervous. Mostly, I was hoping I would remember everything that had been going through my head for two weeks, but not be long winded or too fangirly.

Then it was time. I felt like I was thirteen. I’m sure that is how I sounded. I don’t remember squealing like a teeny bopper, though, so that’s good. Our five minute conversation seemed to last only five seconds, but will be forever in my brain. My husband paid the handler (I don’t like that title, it sounds zoo-ish). I gave him the dice bag and explained the story behind the yarn. He looked so genuinely touched that I had crafted something for him. As it turns out, on his way to the signing table, he had stopped at the Chessex booth and purchased some dice for himself. He immediately put his new dice in it, and thanked me. Then, I gave him the picture my little kids drew for him. Sadly, I forgot to get a photo of it before I did. It had a ball of yarn on it and some knitting needles drawn by little K. She had seen me knitting his bag and I think she thought he was one of my knitting friends. Middle K drew some dice, a D4, D6 and a D10 (I think), along with some other various doodles. He had helped me pick out the dice I included in the bag for Wil. I had told him the story of how Mr. Wheaton likes to collect dice when he’s at conventions. They wrote “To Wil Wheaton, We love you! From Karson & Kelsey” on it. Wil seemed to be truly moved by this picture, even more so than the dice bag. He immediately said he wanted to sign a picture for them, and told me to pick one out. I chose one with him from Big Bang Theory, since that’s where they know him best from. Then he signed my book and that was about it. I didn’t want to hold up the line any longer. Wil was kind enough to listen to my gushy stories. I may have mentioned the part about when my friend and I baked him a cake on his birthday back when we were 13.

The rest of the morning was a bit of a blur. The only words I could manage for at least an hour were, “I met Wil!” The adrenaline was great, I have to admit. His panel was great. It was funny and moving. I loved every minute of it. I was overwhelmed by the sea of people in attendance. The room held a zillion people, so once we got in and sat down it didn’t feel so bad. If only I’d known what the dealer’s floor was going to be like in a few hours.

After lunch, I had had enough of feeling like cattle, so I decided to just go sit over where the photo-ops were going to be, while hubby continued to look at all the things. As it turns out, I was first in line for the photo-op with Wil as well.

I met a really cool couple in line behind me and we chatted and commented on the cosplayers as they walked by. They were nerdy like my husband and me. We immediately started chatting like we had been friends forever. We had all the same geeky interests. The actual photo-op was a giant blur. I got whooshed in, Wil came in through the other side. We stood there. I said, “Hi again!” He said, “Hello!” They snapped the picture and away I was whooshed back out the curtain. I have the picture so it happened. The fact that I got to be first for both things was kinda like the ribbon to wrap up my whole experience.

If you are reading this, Mr. Wheaton, Thank you from the bottom of my heart for making me feel special, like I was your only fan. Meeting you was a wonderful experience. Maybe in a few years we’ll brave the crowds again so my kids can meet you as well.

WilW is a great guy online. That I knew. I’ve wanted to meet him since I was 13 years old, when he was in Stand By Me and Star Trek: The Next Generation. I’ve admired his work for years and I am inspired by his writing. I wanted to express this gratitude, so I knit him something. Knitting is my art and I wanted to share that with him, since he shares his art with the whole world. I knit him a dice bag to carry home the dice he would collect through out the convention from his other adoring fans.

The particular yarn I chose to knit the bag has a little story. My good friend, Lor, dyes yarn and makes amazing ceramics and soaps. Her uncle is a Science Fiction writer. Wil Is a fan of Mr. Haldeman. I found this out from an adorably cute story about when they met at a convention together, and went all fan-boy for the other one. Of course my friend tells the story so much better. I thought it would be really cool to be able to tell Wil that the yarn I used to hand knit the bag was hand dyed by the niece of one of his favorite writers. The Geek world is very small and very vast. It would be sort of like a six degrees of Wil kind of thing.

I’m still playing Nerd Wars, I need to fit it in to one of the challenges as well. This month there was a t-shirt challenge. Of course, I immediately worked out that I had yarn from HaldeCraft to match his “How We Roll” t-shirt. I set out to find the perfect pattern. That took 4 tries. Hey, it had to be perfect, it’s for Wil! I settled on a pattern, also written by my amazing friend Lor. Yes, I know it’s a sock pattern, but the stitches remain the same in any sense.

With out further adieu, the dice bag I knit for Wil Wheaton:

I was sad that I was unable to get pictures of me actually giving it to him, but I respect the reasons for not allowing pictures at the signing table.

Stay tuned for the actual Con-Post. I’m still collecting my thoughts.

holy shit.
holy shit.
holy shit.

It was amazing. Better than I expected…but the real post will have to wait until I get home and collect my thoughts.

Until then read this. I wrote it last summer. It will bring my next post into perspective.
It started one summer

…they must not be introverts.

As far as I can tell, the only people who understand being an introvert are introverts. Extroverts thrive on other peoples energy. I promise I won’t go as far as to say they suck the ever loving lifeforce out of us ((oops I said it, it’s on the internet now, it must be true)) , because that would be mean and uncalled for. They need that human interaction, or they will wilt, fade or feel almost defeated. In the same realm, introverts need that quiet alone time. They “recharge” their batteries when they are alone.

So yeah. My “me” time is a true needed thing. Just as I need food and water, I need alone-ness. I can’t seem to get enough of it. I’m not depressed (well no more then the next person). I can only take so much interaction with people. I love my family and I love my friends. It’s not an issue of that at all. I love my dog. But even he can grate on my need to be alone and not give out attention. Many might take my declining invitations to hang out as not loving them or wanting to be around them. When in fact, I’ve probably just already filled my interacting with other people quota for the time being.

This isn’t to say now that I’m “coming-out” that I am going to hole up in my house and never leave. Although as temping as it sounds sometimes <– another thing that extroverts just can’t possibly understand why anyone would joke even about that. I love to play table-top games and knit socially with my knittas, go out to eat and stuff. I still need my family and friends. But I also need that time to recharge. I sometimes feel that other people prevent me from being able to think straight. Their constant need to talk talk talk and carry on a conversation, that I’ve probably already heard, it’s exhausting.

Having gone back to work almost full time has really made me realize this. After being “on” all day I am so physically exhausted at the end of the day. I thought something medically might be going wrong, but I’ve decided that no, I’m not sick, I’m just introverted. Because there just aren’t enough hours in the day for me to crawl inside my proverbial hole and reflect, I find myself waking up in the middle of the night to think. That bodes well for getting up early and being “on” again. 4:23 this am I was wide awake rehearsing in my head what I am going to do and say at an event I will be going to tomorrow where there will be so many people, I might die. But its something I’ve been wanting to do since I was 13, so I’m going to brave it. I may need a week to recuperate after.

Silence is golden.

The kids in his class liked the snack we brought. It was brownies made to look like a #minecraft grass block.

I was even a little surprised when he wanted to take the doll to school for sharing. I have to admit the mama bear in me tried to discourage it, since I knew some of the older boys in his class are obviously not being brought up like he is. I really can’t even imagine that there are still people in this world who are so closed minded and friggid and so unsure of their own sexuality that they are raising their kids to be intolerant toward different types of people on this small planet. What surprises me even more is that these people are obviously at least moderately intelligent, otherwise they wouldn’t even be sending their kids to this school. but still. oh wait, this isn’t a post about that. /end rant

So. I let the Boy take Kirby to school. I talked to him and explained that some kids may not think Kirby is as cool as he does. Some kids might say mean things. I also told him that he should be proud and confident to like what he likes. He shouldn’t let other people’s opinions sway what he feels. He was like, “Duh Mom, I know that. I like what I like.” Ok, then. Kirby hung out with me in my office until sharing time. Luckily his teacher is NOT one of those aforementioned people, and was very supportive and cool with it. He waited until the third graders were off in another activity and so it was just the sweet second graders for the sharing time. It went smoothly. Actually, I think some were pretty impressed that the Boy’s mother wrote a book. I was walking through his class room (my office is attached and I have to walk through to get to mine) shortly after and one of the kids was all like, “Hey Ms Rhea, did you really write a whole book?” Later after school, the Boy asked when the next book would be done. Umm, not sure kid, finish reading the first one first…it might suck. I do have a few ideas though.

Kirby hanging out with me in my office

There were also weekend new Legos for the Boy and even a small set for Lil K. I’m calling this year a success. Even with out a full on nerve wrecking party, the Boy had a great birthday celebration.

Kirby and Kirsten came to the basketball game with us too!

They won 32-18. Maybe Kirby is a good luck charm!

In case you are interested, here is the story I wrote to go along with Kirby. It was written with the American Girl books in mind. Please leave feedback, I have thin skin, let me know if I should keep going or put my pen away. But remember it was written for an eight year old. It’s not classical literature, folks.
PDF of the story Meet Kirby

Interests at age 8: Legos, Minecraft, reading. Plays basketball and Chess at school. Is still mostly nice to his sisters.

"Birth" day 2005

early appreciation for the good stuff

helper

explorer

lover

fighter

brother

punk

heartbreaker

Happy Birthday, Little Buddy

I recently downloaded the Zombies, Run! app for my phone. Besides the fact that I can’t get all the features to work properly on my phone, it’s great! If you are a little off and demented like I am, I think you will enjoy it. It tells a story, and you get to hear zombie moans to really get your blood pumping and get you running. Plus the makers are English. Nothing like listening to those accents, yum.

In theory, the app is supposed to intertwine your own music with in the story. In Theory. For some reason I haven’t been able to get my playlist and the app to talk. I didn’t know this until I had slaved for like 2 whole hours compiling a list of songs that get me pumping. So my way around it, until I can find some tech savvy person that loves me very much (hmmm, where ever could I find one), is to have the playlist playing and just pause it during the talking parts of the Zombies, Run! app. Since I’m not worried about my time or the amount I am running versus walking, it’s no biggie to just stop and press pause.

So what gets m0mmacat to run, besides hordes of moaning zombies and English accents?

m0mmacat’s quick and dirty running playlist (in no particular order):
Bust a Move – Young MC
Like a Virgin – Madonna
So Whatcha Want – Beastie Boys
Poision – Bell Biv Devoe
Baby Got Back – Sir Mix-a-Lot
Ice Ice Baby – Vanilla Ice
U Can’t Touch This – M.C. Hammer
Push it – Salt N Pepa
In to the Groove – Madonna
Lucky Star – Madonna
Material Girl – Madonna
Tiny Dancer – Elton John
I’m Too Sexy – Right Said Fred
We Didn’t Start the Fire – Billy Joel
Gonna Make You Sweat – C+C Music Factory

and my sprinting song…… Eye of the Tiger – Survivor. There I said it. Judge if you want. I alternate picturing Rocky beating the crap out of Mr T and Dean from Supernatural lip syncing the song. ADRIAAAAAAAN! Either way, I’m smiling and running like there’s no tomorrow…for about 5 driveways anyway.

Eye of the Tiger
It won’t let me embed it…so click, but come back! You don’t have to even know about Supernatural to think this is freaking awesome.

New kicks. I love my new running shoes. I thought I’d always be a Nike girl, but I really like these Brooks I have now. They are Brooks PureCadence 2. Last season’s color, PINK! I got them on sale. They were literally the only pair of sneakers (of the ones I was looking at) in my size and in a decent color (pink!) on the whole internet. They have more support for my arches than my Nike Free’s did. That seems to help me stay out longer. They are still considered a minimal shoe, and technically the lift is less than my Nike’s, but they keep a spring in my step. So there’s that, and they are pink. Did I mention they are pink?

Boy Dog seems to be getting a little better at running too. He still trips me, or tries to. He can not run in a straight line. He has to be touching me, which makes it difficult to, ya know, run. I will admit I get more out of the runs when I leave him home, but dude, with the Zombs after me, I feel safer having him along.

I’m hoping to be able to actually keep a running pace for a full mile at some point. Middle K is in a kids marathon in February and I am going to run it with him. Don’t laugh, its only a mile. I gotta start somewhere.

run happy.

So for now meet Kirby in soccer clothes:

Kirby after his hair cut.

This is what he looked like when he arrived to our house:

and at the salon getting his locks chopped:

Kirby is ready for many hours of play and he’s excited to meet Kirsten (Lil K’s doll)

I have completed the story about Kirby. It has five chapters and 10678 words! It resembles the days in the life of our own Middle K. I need to go over it with a fine tooth comb for any blaring typos, as I am the queen of typos, (if you haven’t already noticed). Then I am going to have it made into an actual book from LuLu. I finished the cover and I added some “sketch” pictures to each chapter page last night:

And now I will no longer bore you all with silly doll pictures. Well, that’s not true, I will post pictures when the boy opens Kirby on his birthday.