Hannah Rae's Blog, page 21

❤️ Who's Your Favorite Fictional Crush?

Generally speaking, if I were going to date a man of fiction, he'd likely be a man who was born in my own mind. Specifically, I'd like to date one of the following:

Sebastian Porter Bert Robinson Finn Gregory Juli Singer Petey Goode

In that order, too. I love those men and they are my top-five favorite fictional boyfriends.

BUT.

If I had to date a fictional man from someone else's literary creation, I think I'd be most interested in one of the following men. Let me tell you why...

Atticus Finch, To Kill A Mockingbird

What's not to love about Atticus Finch? While I'm not necessarily interested in being a step-mother to Jem and Scout, I would very much like to have a significant other who's as handsome and intelligent as Atticus Finch. Plus, he stands up for what he believes in and keeps a cool head, even when in the midst of a mob. If he had a beard and strummed a guitar, he'd be completely irresistible to me.

Sean Kendrick, The Scorpio Races

An avid animal lover who speaks with an Irish accent and is built of angles and shadows and corners...? Um, yes please! Sean legitimately makes me swoon -- especially when he's with his horse, Corr. Those two have such a unique relationship and I love it! Plus, Sean is the only man on the planet (albeit a fictional planet) who can make spitting sexy.

Hugh Chance, The Brothers K

This one is huge because as those who know me are aware, I am very bothered by amputation. But Hugh Chance has his thumb removed and then replaced with his big toe! How crazy is that?! But he needs to have the operation done because he needs to be able to throw a baseball. I love this man. We also share the same religious views, which can be important in a relationship.

There are others, of course... like Jesse and Sam from One True Loves, Jamie Fraser from Outlander, the British professor from My Oxford Year, and Connor and Rory Larkin from Trinity and Redemption, respectively. But those are the three I'm going with at this moment in time.

Who are your favorite fictional crushes?

Doing the Work to get the Fame

My marketing manager Mary and I met at Bantam Coffee Roasters yesterday to make some final edits to Running Through the Words. My original hope had been to release the novel in its entirety on my birthday, but I'm waiting on song-lyric permissions. Get this: after attempting to communicate with Caamp's record label, I finally heard from a very nice man named Adam who seems to think we stand a good chance of being allowed to quote "Vagabond" at the beginning of the text. Fingers crossed, everyone! Send me your good vibes!

The reason that "Vagabond" is so important is because Running Through the Words is called Running Through the Words because of some misheard lyrics in Caamp's song:

"In the night while my body slept in my bed

My mind was running through the woods instead"

See? I heard "running through the words" instead of "woods." Isn't that fun?

Another song that's really important in ,Running Through the Words, is Trampled By Turtles' "The Middle." (When you read the book, you'll understand why; there's a nice scene that involves the song and two of my very favorite characters. ❤️) Because I thought it might also be nice to quote Trampled By Turtles at the start of my novel, I reached out to a really friendly woman named Julia whose correspondence is so kind and warm! I legitimately love getting emails from her; she seems like a truly fun lady!

So... about the publication date of ,Running Through the Words,...

At this point, I'm just waiting (hoping) to receive permission to use the lyrics to at least one of those songs, and once I (hopefully) receive permission, I'll be set to release the novel and you'll be able to buy it! Yay!

Here's a sneak peek at the cover.

Isn't it pretty?!

Running Through the Words, 17

Seventeen.

The summer months generally fly by for Juli. Not only are there a million and one things to be done around the farmhouse, but an above-average number of odd jobs seem to come in from his regular clients. He’s already painted Mr. Flanagan’s shutters, tiled a backsplash for Jenny Goode, power washed at least a dozen homes, and repaired the railing of Mrs. Tyson’s deck. In addition to the Brewhaha’s regular maintenance, one might expect his mind to be primarily occupied by home repair. In truth, though, his thoughts continue to drift back to Magnolia Fitzpatrick.

July fourth has come and gone. Now, well into the second week of the month, he still hasn’t heard from her about a return to Lake Caywood and, if he’s being honest with himself, this is bothersome.

Sighing, Juli sets his toolbox in the back of his truck and makes his way to the barn. Petey should be there by now, brewing and brainstorming new concoctions, and he’d mentioned something about sampling a spring apple ale.

The day is a scorcher, the air thick with humidity. On Wednesdays, the brewery doesn’t open until four o’clock, so the only people on the property right now are employees. The afternoon feels uncharacteristically still and unusually quiet. Not even the birds are out and about, probably having decided to find shade closer to the lake where there might be the hint of a breeze. The barn is air-conditioned, though, and as soon as Juli steps inside, goosebumps creep along his bare arms. He can feel the sheen of sweat on his forehead tightening as it cools.

Petey stands on a ladder, checking some sort of gauge mounted to the side of one of the large, metal kegs. “So I had this idea,” he says brightly as soon as he spots Juli. “I bumped into Lucy Campbell the other day and she mentioned something about a fundraiser she and Bert are organizing. The Pink Pumpkin Plunge? All of the proceeds are going towards breast cancer awareness. Has Nol mentioned anything to you about it?”

“Nope,” Juli says glumly. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“It’s one of those events where people pay money to run down a dock and jump into a lake. Sometimes it’s in January, sometimes February… the water is always cold.”

“Okay…?”

“So, since October is, like, the month to bring attention to breast cancer, the Pink Pumpkin Plunge will be held at the Marina on Halloween morning. Eight to noon, I’m pretty sure. I thought we should do something to contribute, but beer sales aren’t gonna be great that early in the morning, so I was thinking…”

Juli retrieves a five-gallon bucket from a few yards away and flips it over, creating a makeshift stool. He takes a seat, slumps forward to rest his elbows on his knees, and prompts, “Yeah?”

“What if we were to keep the event going with a sort of afterparty? Invite people back to the Brewhaha for a bonfire and some Pink Pumpkin Pale Ale? Make it last from one to three, or possibly one to four. Whatever. Addy’s on board a hundred and ten percent, and I’ve already started mapping out a recipe for the beer.”

“Of course you have.”

“Even if we just donate the proceeds from one specialty brew—the Pink Pumpkin Pale Ale—it’ll be something.”

“It sounds like you’ve already put a lot of thought into this.”

“I have, yeah! I’m leaning toward ingredients like white pumpkins, cranberries, and autumn spices. With any luck, the cranberries and spices will create a pinkish color and I won’t need to use any unnatural dyes.” He grins excitedly, sandwiching his smile between two long parenthesis dimples. “What do you think?”

“I mean… yeah. It sounds great. What d’you need me to do?”

“Contact Nol,” Petey answers without missing a beat, “and ask her if we’re allowed to participate.”

Juli smirks, sensing an ulterior motive hidden within this plan. “You need me to get in touch with Nol, huh? Nol, who lives in New York City and isn’t one of the two people planning the event? That Nol? Because I’m not sure how me asking Nol to ask Lucy is a better idea than you asking Lucy yourself.”

Petey fetches two tiny glasses from a nearby counter and fills them with an amber-hued liquid. “Crispity-Crunch,” he says, introducing the apple ale as he places a snifter of it in the other man’s hand. “Let me know what you think.” He drags a folding chair over to join Juli and plops down on it, leaning back and stretching his legs in front of him. “As for the Nol thing… Lucy and Bert already have their hands full with the morning festivities. I thought she might be willing to head the afternoon portion of the event. And, you know…” he adds, smiling mischievously, “I thought maybe you could help her.”

“Oh you did, did you?”

“I did indeed!”

Petey Goode has always had an uncanny ability to sense when a person needs something. Today, his radar must have alerted him to the fact that Juli could benefit from a reason to contact Nol Fitzpatrick. “Alright,” he sighs. “For you, I’ll do it.” He raises his ale to his lips, inhaling the fruity sweetness of its scent before inviting it into his mouth. When he does take that initial sip, he can’t help but feel the brew is aptly named: the cold liquid is crisp and refreshing, with a honeyed tang reminiscent of that first bite of an apple.

“This beer?” he asks, glancing over at Petey and raising his brows. “It’s a keeper.”

“I thought so too. And I generally know a keeper when I see one.”

Juli fulfills his promise later that evening. He’s texted Nol once or twice, but has never initiated an actual phone call, so he makes it a point to consume a bottle of Orange You Glad before dialing the number. And then he opens a second bottle before Magnolia has even had time to answer.

She picks up on the fifth ring.

“Hello?”

“Hey, it’s Juli.”

The slightest of pauses exists before she says, “Hi, Juli.”

He takes a big gulp of his beer, feeling the fizz of the bubbles in his nose, and swallows his nerves. “So, hey… I have a question for you. I’m assuming you’re in the know regarding all of this Pumpkin Plunge stuff, right?”

“The Pink Pumpkin Plunge,” she corrects. “And yes, I am.”

Juli can practically hear the smile in her voice. He takes a slow breath and attempts to slow his pounding heart; his palms feel clammy. “Right, so, that’s good. Um… Petey and Addy wanna do something to help. An afterparty at the Brewhaha.” He explains the general idea, going so far as to include the ingredients being considered for the event’s custom beer. “He’s hoping to brew something that’s actually pink.”

“That would be different!”

“Yeah. So… what do you think?”

Nol giggles. “I think it sounds like a great idea, but why are you asking me? Lucy and Bert are the ones in charge of this shindig. It’s their opinion that matters.”

“Right. I know, but…” His voice trails away and a flush creeps into his cheeks. This is exactly the point he’d been trying to make earlier today. “I guess Petey just thought that if Bert and Lucy are on board, they might feel overwhelmed by the idea of essentially planning two events for the same day… so he wondered if you and I would wanna take the reins and sort of steer that endeavor.”

“Petey wondered that?”

“Well, Petey wondered it and I thought it sounded like a good idea,” he admits.

“You do realize I’m a good six-hour drive away, though. Unless, I mean, you were truly serious about the use of your apartment. Because I’ll be honest with you, Juli: I’ve thought about your offer a few times now. I can’t seem to get the Brewhaha and its story out of my head… but I also can’t ask Bas and Lucy to let me stay with them for months on end.”

Something flutters in Juli’s stomach. It feels like a solitary moth is in there flitting about, stirring up excitement and nervousness and hopeful anticipation. Logic still lingers in the back of his brain, though, and so he states realistically, “And you’ve got a full-time job in the city.”

“And I have a full-time job in the city,” Nol grants him, “but I’ve been thinking about that too. There’s no reason I can’t read manuscripts and work with my clients from Lake Caywood. I’d need to come back up here every now and again for business meetings and stuff like that, but I probably could balance work while researching the old farmhouse in my spare time. So…”

“Are you saying you’d like to borrow the upstairs apartment?”

“I’m saying I’d like to rent the upstairs apartment. If it’s still available. I’m not looking for handouts, Juli. I’ll pay you for its use.”

“Seriously, Nol. You do not need to—”

“Nope. If you won’t let me pay you for it, then I’m not interested.”

He leans against his kitchen counter and lightly taps his beer bottle against his front teeth. After a few seconds of thought, he agrees to the stipulation, but he silently vows to charge Nol no more than half what he’d charge another tenant. “Fine. It’s a deal. When should I expect you?”

“Give me a week to get some things finalized up here. I’ll text you when I have an official arrival date. But Juli…?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re sure I’m not putting you out?”

“Not at all. Especially since you’re forcing me to accept your money.”

Magnolia laughs. “Alright. Then Juli…?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

Why My Cat is Better than Your Cat: Reason #560

Today when I got home from school, Kip and Petey met me like always, but Harvey was MIA. I gave them snacks; Harvey didn't show up. I called for Harvey; he still didn't come. Turns out, Harvey had locked himself in my studio. I have no idea how long he was there, but he was so excited to see me! He followed me around for at least ten minutes after being freed. It was adorable!

Anyway, I've been meaning to write another post about Harvey and his superiority to other cats. Specifically, I wanted to talk about our morning routine because it makes me laugh on a regular basis. This is what happens:

First, I enter the bathroom and Harvey sets about playing with the toilet paper. He likes to unroll it and chew on it. Sometimes, he just chews on the entire roll without bothering to section off a few strips, playing tug-of-war with it much like a puppy would with a piece of rope or a sock. I love that cat.

Next, I put in my contacts. I use the daily disposable contacts, which means each morning there are TWO new plastic-and-foil packets to be chewed on! Harvey loooooooves these! I would venture to say they are among his favorite things in the world. He bats them around and knocks them to the ground, then picks them up in his mouth and chews holes through the little foil tabs. Oh, it's so fun! Sometimes he knocks them off the sink, jumps down to capture them, and then returns with them to the sink... just so he can knock them down again!

Even more enjoyable than my contact containers? My toothbrush cover. Dental hygiene is the next order of business and thank goodness I'm a teeth-brushing fanatic because Harvey gets to play with my toothbrush cover several times every day. He loves it so much because of the texture, I think; it's rubbery and must feel nice in his mouth because he carries it everywhere. He does like to knock it to the ground, but more than that, he likes to carry it around the house. He takes it from the bathroom to the bedroom, and then to his tunnel in the guest room. Sometimes he carries it to his food dish for safe keeping. Harvey loves my toothbrush cover so much that I bought him a pack of his own toothbrush covers... but of course they aren't quite as desirable as mine. Still, he does enjoy batting them around and relocating them to various locations. This morning, there was one waiting in the bathtub for me.

The last fun step of our morning routine involves the shower. Harvey enjoys sitting on the side of the tub, between the shower curtains, occasionally reaching a paw around to let me know he's there. More than a few times, he's actually gotten into the shower with me, but he remains on the perimeter of the tub so as not to get overly damp.

And that's today's reason why my cat is better than your cat: because he makes me laugh every single morning! I love him so much. ❤️

Running Through the Words, 16

Sixteen.

With the fleshy side of his fist, Sebastian wipes steam from the bathroom mirror and stares at his reflection. It’s been a long time since his hair’s been this short, but he has to admit it’s growing back faster than expected. Already, the dark waves are long enough to appear haphazardly disheveled. He runs a hand through them and wonders how long it will be until Bert’s no longer bald. With another four months of treatment, it’s unlikely he’ll have hair before November, and the thought makes Bas shiver just imagining how cold that will feel.

This morning’s chemotherapy session had hit Bert hard. It’s normal for him to feel drained in the afternoon, wanting nothing more than to curl into a tight ball and sleep until Thursday, but today he’d been sick. Really sick. Bas had sat beside him in the bathroom, bringing ice chips and blankets and pillows and anything else that seemed logical. He’d mopped Bert’s brow with a damp cloth and wiped his mouth each time he vomited. He’d sat there for three hours, his spine pressed against the side of the tub, Bert’s head in his lap, both of them shivering despite the eighty-degree weather outside. And then Lucy, like a saint, had appeared in the doorway and told him she’d take over for a while. “Go home and get cleaned up,” she’d whispered into his ear as she eased herself onto the tiled floor. “Take a shower, take Rex for his driving lesson, and get something to eat. If you want to come back after that, you can, but I’m happy to stay the night if you’d rather sleep in your own bed.”

Sebastian has no intention of sleeping in his own bed.

He isn’t expecting to sleep at all, actually, but as he walks naked from the bathroom to the bedroom and takes note of the clock on the wall—four-thirty-three—he realizes there are a good eighty-seven minutes between now and the time he’s meant to meet Rex at the pottery shop. He allows himself one hour, setting an alarm on his cell before slipping under the covers and pulling Jem, fast asleep at the foot of the bed, tight against his chest. The furry fellow squirms for a moment, then settles into the new position and quickly begins to purr. His breaths match Sebastian’s with a two-to-one ratio, the soft snuffs a subtle complement to the almost undetectable whap-whap-whap of the overhead fan.

Sleep is reluctant to come.

Bas holds Jem for a long time, breathing in his fabric-softener scent and ignoring the tickle his long, grey hairs plant in his nostrils. After a time, with nineteen minutes until his alarm will sound, he slips into a light slumber that feels like little more than a blink.

He rubs his eyes and rolls onto his back when the singsongy doo-do-do-do-do-do-do-do-doos blare from his phone, the volume overly loud in the quiet room. “Jeremy Atticus,” he mumbles groggily, not really ready to get up but knowing he needs to. “I have to get dressed, bud. I’m sorry.”

A fat, white paw reaches up to press gently against his lips, silencing the outpouring of words. Sebastian can’t help but smile. “I know. I should just shut up, right?” He slides his arm out from under Jem and leaves the warm bundle curled on the pillow, still purring despite the uncalled for disruption. “I’ll see you tomorrow, alright?” he asks, planting a kiss between the sleeping creature’s velvety ears. “I’m gonna stay with B tonight.”

It takes only a few moments to slip into a pair of tattered jeans, an old t-shirt, and some flip-flops. He throws a hoodie and a toothbrush into his bag, loops it over his shoulder, and grabs the key to his Jeep on the way out the door.

The pottery shop is located a few miles from the house, on the outskirts of town, where the sidewalk along Main Street literally comes to an end. A long time ago, the building had been Lake Caywood’s post office, but now it’s home to Simply Clay. The structure screams “Lucy!” Its vertical siding has been painted pale grey and its door sports a coat of bright aqua. The porch and trim, dark teal in color, complement it nicely.

A little flagstone path leads to the shop, shaded by a single magnolia tree and quite a few redbuds. In the spring, they appear to be aflame with blooms. Various pots, all thrown and glazed by the store’s owner, adorn the porch steps. They contain an assortment of shade-loving plants, ranging from salmon-hued impatiens to coleus with crinkled, splotched leaves. Hardy hostas, dimpled and somehow reminiscent of dinosaur skin, line the walkway.

Rex is crouched behind the counter securing money in the safe when Bas unlocks the shop door and steps inside. “Hey, bud. Everything checkin’ out okay? No problems counting down the register?”

“Nope. It wasn’t very busy today. I’m just about ready to go.”

Bas walks over to one of the floor-to-ceiling shelving units and straightens a pitcher. “I thought we could do some highway driving this evening. Are you up for that?”

“Sure.” Rex gets to his feet and moves from behind the register. “As long as you think I’m ready, I mean.”

“We’ll just run up and down route fifteen a little bit. I’m not talking about hopping on the beltway or anything.” Bas flashes him a comforting grin and fishes the Jeep’s key from his pocket, tossing it to the teen. They walk outside together. Rex waits while the older man locks up, then matches his stride as he leads the way to the car. They take their seats, fasten their safety belts, and are on the road in no time. Sebastian tunes the radio, settling on an oldies station and adjusting the volume so as to provide some soft background music. He’s not necessarily in the mood to talk, but after several moments of silence, it occurs to him that his driver is uncharacteristically quiet. “You doin’ alright, Rex?”

“Yeah. Just trying to keep it around sixty-five miles per hour.”

Bas leans over and checks the speedometer. The needle sits exactly where it should. “Yeah, no… that all looks great. I, uh… I was actually asking more about, you know, the whole divorce thing. I imagine that’s gotta be tough.”

The skin on the knuckles of Rex’s hands grows taut as he grips the steering wheel more tightly. “It is,” he says softly. “It sucks.”

“I’m sorry, bud. I’m sorry you’ve gotta deal with all that awkwardness between your parents.”

“Me too.” Rex tentatively takes a hand off the wheel and uses his index finger to wipe at the corner of his right eye. Sebastian pretends not to notice, but he isn’t oblivious to the fact that the boy is close to tears. Without looking in his direction, he points to the next exit and says, “Get off here and make a left at the light, okay?”

Rex does as he’s asked, assuming he’ll be instructed to loop around and return to the highway for another practice run, but Sebastian surprises him by telling him to pull into the parking lot of a diner called Moe’s. “Choose whichever spot you want. I’m not really in the mood for a driving lesson right now. My day’s been shit and what I want is a beer. How ‘bout I buy you dinner? This place makes a mean chicken cheesesteak.”

“Really?”

Bas Porter has known Rex since he was an infant, but only recently—right around the sixteen-year-old’s birthday—had he expressed interest in really gaining an insight to him. Lucy was the one who frequently visited the house for wine nights with Kathryn, and who would babysit both boys on occasion when they were younger, but Bas had rarely been around. The members of Flannel Lobster seemed always to be on tour, or in the studio, or even just hanging out in Finn’s basement for band practice. Rex had never felt that Sebastian disliked him, but he also never felt that he actually liked him either. He’d merely supposed the musician was indifferent to the young man’s existence. It had come as a shock when Bas offered to teach him how to drive.

Now, having just been invited to join Lake Caywood’s most notable celebrity for a meal in a public place, Rex finds himself a bit dumbfounded. He slowly guides the Jeep into an available spot far from the other cars in the lot, puts it into park, and slides the key out of the ignition. As he falls into step beside Bas, he asks shyly, “Why was your day shitty? Or, I mean… you don’t have to answer if you don’t—”

“No, it’s fine. I can talk about it. I just… hate seeing Bert as sick as he is. It’s hard to watch.” A metallic chime sounds as he opens the door and holds it for Rex. “Do you wanna sit at the bar or in a booth? Your choice.”

Rex, who has never sat at an actual bar before, is surprised to learn it’s an option. “Am I allowed?” he confirms, his brow furrowed questioningly. “To sit at the bar, I mean? I’m only sixteen.”

One side of Sebastian’s mouth quirks upward. “You can sit wherever you want to; you just can’t drink whatever you want to. Come on,” he adds, mussing the boy’s hair and steering him toward two empty stools. “I’ll get you a Cherry Coke or something.”

Bas orders his beer and Rex opts for a vanilla milkshake and a glass of water. They both go with the chicken cheesesteak, everything on it, fries on the side. And then, as they wait for their meals, the younger boy says, “I’m really sorry your best friend is sick.”

“Thanks. I’m really sorry your parents are splitting up.”

Rex slumps his shoulders and rests his hands on the bar, wrapping them around his frosted glass. “It was bound to happen, I think. My dad’s kind of a jerk. I’m pretty sure he’s cheated on my mom at least once before.”

“Oh, yeah? What makes you think that?”

“Well, he’s never home for starters. And he’s a CPA. Outside of tax season, why’s he rolling in late and going into work on the weekends? It doesn’t add up. I just… I don’t know. I don’t trust him, I guess. And, I mean, he’s mean to my mom.”

“How so?”

Rex stabs his milkshake with his straw, smooshing the ice cream against the walls of the glass. “He just isn’t very nice to her,” he mumbles vaguely, “and he says things that hurt her feelings. Like, about her weight and stuff.”

“Your dad makes fun of your mom’s weight?” Sebastian narrows his eyes and fixes Rex with a sideways look. Even for Will, this seems a low blow, because although Kathryn is curvy, she is by no means overweight. And she’s far from unattractive. Her hair is oftentimes out of control, sure, but her high cheekbones and flawless skin could easily rival Queen Latifah’s.

“He says nasty things about her hips and her ass,” Rex admits, his voice much smaller than it had been only moments ago. His eyes dart along the back wall of the diner, skimming over signs and avoiding Sebastian’s gaze, and then, after a prolonged span of silence, he feels compelled to share, “I don’t want to live with him—my dad, I mean—but I don’t know how to tell him that because I don’t wanna hurt his feelings.” He rolls his eyes, elaborating, “I kind of hate him… but at the same time, I don’t wanna hurt his feelings. It doesn’t even make any sense.”

“It makes sense,” Bas assures him. “Believe me. I get it.”

Almost reluctantly, the teenager turns to face him. “You do?”

“I love my dad, Rex—really, I do—but he… is not the most trustworthy guy when it comes to women. He cheated on my mama, he cheated on his fiancé, and I can only begin to imagine the number of girlfriends he cheated on in between. The man loves women, but he doesn’t seem capable of devoting himself to just one.”

“And you don’t hate him for that?”

Bas runs a hand through his uncharacteristically short hair, causing it to stand on end and appear as though a substantial gust of wind just whooshed through the diner, knocking it askew. “I don’t hate him, no. But my situation’s different than yours. My mama died when I was a kid. I wasn’t old enough to really witness the affairs my dad had with other women, and even though I was definitely pissed when I found out about what he’d done to fuck up his relationship with Martha, Nol’s mom… I don’t know. It was different. It is different. I love Martha—I still call her up and tell her about my life and she’s honestly probably the closest thing I’ve got to a mother of my own—but she’s not my mama. Whereas, I mean… Kathryn is your mom. And Will is your dad. And you really shouldn’t have to take sides.”

“But I have to choose a house,” Rex sighs. “And choosing a house is essentially choosing a side. And I want to live with my mom… but I don’t want to upset my dad. And I also don’t want to leave my house. Dad is staying in the house—you know this; you helped my mom move—and even though I don’t want to stay there with him… I don’t want to leave either. It’s the only house I’ve ever lived in, you know? And I like it.” He falls silent as the food arrives, pushing his milkshake aside and making room for the plate.

Sebastian converses with the waitress, assuring her that he’s fine with just the one beer but could they maybe get some extra napkins, and then he turns back to Rex and fixes him with those pale, all-seeing eyes. “I get what you’re saying about your home,” he says. “I mean, look at me: I bought the house I grew up in and am still living there. But, at the same time… I bounce around a lot, you know?”

Rex nods. “Lots of touring.”

“Lots of touring,” Bas agrees through a big bite of cheesesteak. He uses his thumb to wipe at the corner of his mouth, takes a hearty swig of beer, and continues, “And so ultimately, in a nutshell, I guess what I’ve learned is this: sometimes a house is just a house… but a home is never just a home, because a home is more than a place. A home is your people.”

“But my dad is my people,” Rex points out. “And so is my mom.”

“Right. I get that. But if your dad was living in a different house—a house that you hadn’t grown up in—would the decision to choose where to live be as difficult? Because I think that’s what you need to figure out.” Bas knocks an elbow against the boy’s arm, jabbing his bicep almost playfully. “Hey,” he says softly, waiting until Rex turns to face him. “Your dad, even with all of his faults, still loves you. And he will respect your decision.”

“You really think so?”

“I do. Because he has to, Rex. If he cares at all about you and your brother—and I really think he does—he will continue to love you and support you no matter who you decide to live with. And if he doesn’t, then—”

“He hasn’t even once offered to take me driving, Bas.”

Rex says it so quickly.

So suddenly.

And it’s so obvious that the words had been trying to escape him for quite some time.

Which is perhaps why Bas manages, without so much as a slipup in timing, to conclude, “—he’s an even bigger asshole than I’ve ever given him credit for. And, if I’m being completely honest, I’ve never liked the guy.”

Rex laughs so hard that vanilla milkshake shoots out his nose.

“I don’t mind staying,” Lucy whispers when Sebastian shows up at Bert’s apartment an hour later. She’s curled on the couch, a blanket tucked around her, sleepily scanning the pages of a book. She dogears a page and places the novel aside when her boyfriend steps into the living room. “He’s asleep right now. I got him cleaned up and put him to bed. He ate a bite or two of dry toast and drank a few sips of water. You should go home and sleep in your own bed though, Bas. Really. I’ve got this.”

He shakes his head and moves toward the sofa. Lucy moves her feet so he can sit down. “I wanna stay,” he insists. “I told him I’d be back, you know? And I don’t want to not be here when he wakes up later.”

She reaches over and rests a hand on his scruffy cheek, turning his face so she’s able to look into his exhausted eyes. “Then I’ll stay with you.”

“You don’t have to do that, goose.”

“I want to,” she insists. “That way we can tag-team it if we need to.”

Sebastian collapses into her, resting his head on her shoulder and melting under her embrace. His breaths come in sharp, quick inhales as if he’s fighting the urge to cry. “I’ve never seen him that sick before,” he says in a low, barely audible voice.

And maybe it isn’t, in fact, audible.

Maybe Lucy just hears his thoughts. She twirls her fingers through his soft hair and smooths his whiskery sideburn, tracing the line of his jaw all the way to his chin. “He’s doing better,” she assures him. “Tell me about your driving lesson with Rex. How is he?”

“Sad,” Sebastian answers simply. “Sad that his parents are getting divorced.”

Lucy says nothing, choosing to wait for additional information instead. Eventually, it comes.

“We did a little driving and a lot of talking. I took him to Moe’s.”

“For chicken cheesesteaks?”

“Yup.”

“And he opened up?”

“He did.”

Lucy runs a thumb over his lips, petting them softly. “You’re a good man, Bas.”

“Hmm…” A noncommittal acceptance of the praise.

“You are.”

He pulls away from her, easing himself into a more upright position and rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands. “I’m gonna check on B,” he says flatly. “I just need to see him for myself. It’s not that I don’t trust you.”

“I know.” She dons a sad smile and pulls her hands under the fleecy throw wrapped around her. “If he’s awake, let him know that I started Peace Like A River. He asked if I’d read it before and I admitted I hadn’t. He says it’s what you’re reading aloud to him during chemo because you finished Ordinary Grace last week.”

“We did, yeah.” Bas pushes himself to his feet and reaches back to massage the base of his neck. “I forgot that you’ve never read it. What d’you think?”

“I love Swede.”

“She’s a modern-day Scout,” he muses, forcing a half-smile. “I’ll be back in a bit, okay?”

“Okay.”

The hallway to Bert’s bedroom is dim, lit only by a violet-hued nightlight, but Bas could navigate the route with his eyes shut. He pads softly down the narrow expanse, pushing open the door as quietly as possible and allowing his pupils a moment to shrink and accommodate the pitch dark. When the shadowy shape of the bed begins to materialize, he kicks off his flip-flops and walks barefoot across the room, climbing lithely onto the mattress. He says nothing, just rolls onto his side and rests his head on a pillow, facing Bert.

Five minutes pass. Maybe ten.

Then, a rustle of covers and a soft, “B?”

“Yep,” Sebastian murmurs. “I’m here.”

“I miss my mom, B,” Bert whispers in the quietest, most little-kid voice. “I miss her so much.”

“I know you do, B.”

“And I hate this. I hate being sick.”

“I hate it too, B. Do you need anything? Can I get something for you?”

There’s a pause, and then, “Can you hold me? Or is that too weird? I didn’t mean—”

“Shh…” Sebastian doesn’t say more than this. He just scoots closer, wraps Bert in his arms, and holds him tight.

Trivia Recap: 3/23

The Players: Hannah (English teacher), Mary (English teacher), Darren (math professor), Brock (musical and artistic web design expert), Phil (guru of all things Adobe), Danielle (bartender), Ben (not a cartographer)

Hint of the Day: Elevator

Opening Category: Bluegrass Music

Round One:

Adam, our regular DJ, was absent last night and we had a guy named Kris-with-a-K. (I toyed with calling him "Chris-with-a-K" in this blog because I thought it would be funny, but then I decided to just spell his name correctly because he will likely be mentioned several times. Kris had PIGTAILS.) Okay. Onward and forward. One nice thing about Kris was that he printed the categories on our sheets so we knew what to expect from the get-go. Round One looked like this:

Bluegrass Music (We knew the answer was Alison Kraus.) The Academy Awards (The answer was Titanic, not The Titanic, and we got it for 7 points... but we missed the bonus. Our guess was A Streetcar Named Desire, but that was wrong and I can't remember either the question or the correct answer right now...) Three Clues / One Sandwich (This was funny because the answer was "Cuban" and Brock was eating a Cuban! In fact, Brock predicted the answer would be Cuban before the question was even asked! What a genius. ) US State Stuff (The answer was New York and we got it.) Let's Talk About the Sun ("Helium and Hydrogen." That was our answer and we got it right, which earned us a two-point bonus!)

Round Two:

The first category of Round Two is always an audio clue and I didn't really like this week's. We got it right. That's not the reason I didn't like it. I just... prefer when the audio clue is musical and this audio clue was people talking. We had to identify the voices of three actors who made guest appearances on Friends and eventually went on to win an Academy Award. The answers were "Julia Roberts, Reese Witherspoon, and Brad Pitt." Then we had Holidays ("Christopher Columbus" was the answer), MLB World Champions ("Giants and Red Sox"), and then Last Word / First Word. This was fun and Darren got it right away. The question asked about a book by Jack London and a song by The Troggs, and though I don't remember the exact wording, the answer was "Call of the Wild Thing." Characters from Musicals started off easy with the answer being "Queen," but knowing the name of the musical was a little trickier. Danielle knew it, though, and told us to write "We Will Rock You." We were the only team in the restaurant who got it right! Woohoo!

Halftime:

That Phillip is a sneaky dude and took his time letting us even see the sheet. He wanted to fill in the ones he knew on the top (something to do with sports... I knew very little) before he shared it with the rest of the team. Ben suggested we never invite him back, but we probably will. The bottom half of the paper (in my opinion) was infinitely more fun. We had to match Disney heroines to their princes. Mary was very good at this. And gentlemen, Mary is still looking for her prince, so if you feel that you'd make an acceptable applicant, feel free to send your credentials to The Educated Friends, c/o Fourscore Brewing Company, and the team will consider your eligibility.

Side note: I think Kris might be a teacher during the day because he was very stern and he came around during halftime -- like, he circulated through the bar! -- to check on how everyone was doing and to make sure no one was cheating!

Round Three:

Speaking of Mary... Here's one reason you may want to date her: She knows things. When we got to the category of Poetic Deaths, she right away knew the answer was "Albatross" and then she knew the poet's name was "Coleridge," which earned us a two-point bonus! She was 1000% percent certain about the bird, but not the poet; Darren was 100% uncertain about her math, though. It always makes him nervous when someone is more than 100% positive about an answer because, you know, it's impossible to be more than 100% of anything. The other categories were as follows: Add a Letter (we did, and we got it right), Over / Under (we got all three right, earning us a two-point bonus), What am I a Type of? (the answer was "elevator," which was the hint of the day), and One for the Cowboys (we knew about bull rides and Eight Seconds and even Luke Perry... which earned us another bonus!)

Side note: As a child, I absolutely loved Luke Perry... largely because he played Dylan McKay. Remember when he broke his ribs in a surfing accident? I do. It has impacted me in such a big way and I think it's probably the reason why Sebastian Porter, my favorite character of all time, is often getting injured.

6 - 4 - 2:

This was the best part of the entire night. Ready? I KNEW THE ANSWER FOR SIX POINTS!!!!!!! I never know the answer and I knew the answer for SIX WHOLE POINTS!!!!!! Not two... not four... but SIX! The only clue I needed was that this character used to listen to a fictional band called The Beets and so of course I got excited and exclaimed, "I know this!" I did not should out that the answer was "Doug," though; I merely wrote it down. We were the ONLY TEAM who knew it for six points!!!!

Here's a Billy-Ocean-Moment Bonus: Earlier this week, I was sorting through some shirts that once belonged to my brother. I have a student who's not officially in my homeroom, but who is an honorary member, and he is always wearing fun shirts. He and Pip are/were the same size, so I thought my student might put a couple of Pip's shirts to good use. I gave him two. In searching for these shirts, I stumbled upon a Beets Killer Tofu Tour '96 shirt I once gave to The Pip for his birthday. Obviously, I kept this one. Today, I'm wearing it! (I've also been singing "Killer Tofu" and "Need More Allowance" all morning. Good ol' Doug Funny!)

Round Four:

We knew Mariah Carey was in some movie called Glitter, even though none of us had ever seen it, and Danielle knew the actor who starred with her was Terrence Howard. Mary and I had chosen Body Parts as our bonus category for this round and my rationale was, "We all have bodies." Darren didn't realize we'd chosen Body Parts as our bonus category and he was somewhat appalled. Many times he said, "I would not have chosen Body Parts as our bonus category." As it turns out, we did know the answer... but Phil talked us out of writing "tendon" on the answer slip and had us put "joint" instead. "Tendon" was the correct response. On the plus side, we knew the answers to The Land Down Under, Hip Hop Songs (Phil redeemed himself by knowing and loving "Because I Got High"), and Weathery Names. Actually, for this last category Zizi proved to be a real asset. The girl's got some Lemony Snicket smarts, that's for sure!

Final:

Fun with Flags was the category and the answer was "Indonesia," but we put "Japan." Oh well. It didn't matter because we were sooooooo ahead of everyone else (fourteen points!) that we only wagered one point and came in first!

Next week's opening category is Famous Adams because the goal when choosing a category is almost always to make Adam laugh and since Adam wasn't there last night, we had to try a new approach.

Running Through the Words, 15

Fifteen.

Lucy had opted for the highest-loft batting she could find when shopping for supplies at Creative, Inc. She’d splurged, purchasing multiple rolls of the inch-thick wadding, and then spent the next two weeks layering it around a mannequin dressed in a stretchy unitard that she’d found online for cheap. Thick thighs, wide hips, a full bottom, full breasts, and a belly that rivaled Santa’s were the end result, thanks to her inventive use of pillowcase pouches filled with styrofoam peanuts. She’d managed to smooth everything out with a final layer of batting, this one much thinner, and then covered the buxom form with an enormous shirt and an equally enormous pair of supple leggings, stitched together at the waist with a slit down the back. Five simple ties, each constructed of an old shoelace, would secure the suit, ensuring a good fit but making it impossible to get into or out of alone. She doubted Bert would mind, though, and was not at all surprised when he volunteered to model it while she fitted him for Penelope’s outerwear.

“Is it comfortable?” she asks now, tying a bow at the base of his neck and thus fixing the fat suit firmly in place. “Can you move around in it? Try sitting down.”

Bert walks over to the full-length mirror mounted behind the bedroom door and studies his new, portly physique. “Fuck, Lucy! This is amazing!” He dons a comical grin and extends his arms, bouncing once or twice on the balls of his feet before spinning around and racing across the room to wrap Lucy in a plush hug. “I love it!”

“I’m glad!” she laughs, weaseling out of his vice-like grip. “But do me a favor and sit down in it, okay? I wanna make sure the packing peanuts aren’t too restrictive. I used ‘em to build those big hips, your belly, and your bum,” she explains, gently patting his backside, “but now I’m worried I’ve overdone it. Do you feel like you’re sitting too high? Like you’re propped up by a booster seat or something?”

Bert dutifully lumbers out of the spare bedroom and down the hall to the office, where he pulls a wooden chair away from the desk and perches on it, resting his hands on his ballooning belly. “I’m definitely sitting higher than usual, but it doesn’t feel bad or uncomfortable or anything. I think it’s fine.”

“Really?”

“Yeah! I like it. I feel like a queen!” He hops up, bounces around a bit more, and decides, “Let’s make some clothes for Penelope. What d’you need me to do?”

“I mostly just need you to stand there while I take measurements and pin fabric to you. We need to go back to the spare bedroom because that’s where all my sewing stuff is. And hey… do you care if I take a picture of you and send it to Kathryn? She was with me when I bought the supplies and asked to see a photo when I finished the fat suit’s construction.”

Bert shrugs, allowing his arms to fall at his sides and rest against his broad hips. “Sure. Does she want to come over and see it in person? I don’t mind.”

The suggestion is unexpected, but Lucy isn’t opposed to it, and as Rex so astutely pointed out just recently, his mother could benefit from a friend. Aren’t two friends better than one? Not that Bert has ever been especially interested in a companionship with Kathryn, but… “We are practically neighbors now,” he observes, seemingly reading Lucy’s thoughts. “Maybe she’ll wanna hang out from time to time.”

So Lucy texts a photo of Bert, pairs it with the caption “We’re outfitting Penelope! Come over,” and Kathryn arrives twenty minutes later. “It seriously turned out so well, Lucy!” she gushes, her tone rich with awe. “How many hours do you think you’ve put into it?”

“Oh… a good thirty at least,” she answers around the pins pressed between her lips. A substantial pair of bloomers and several frilled petticoats are crucial to the clown’s persona and that’s what she’s working on now, creating pleats and ruffles that will flounce with each step. Bert stands obligingly on a stepstool in front of her, periodically patting his rounded belly or cupping his unfamiliar breasts. “The thing I’m most worried about,” Lucy says, smiling wryly as she catches him in this latter position, “is what’s going to happen if you have to pee. I wanted to make a slit in the front—for easy access, you know?—but the amount of batting made it impossible. You might have to fast before getting into your costume.”

“Or I could get myself an adult diaper,” he muses amiably. “Just in case of an emergency.”

“Or you could do that,” Lucy concedes with a roll of her eyes, but Kathryn, perched on the bed, goes so far as to validate the proposal by saying, “That’s not such a bad idea, actually. I’ve read that some celebrities wear diapers on the red carpet because it’s next to impossible to go to the bathroom while decked out in one of those crazy dresses. This is sort of like that, right?”

“Right,” Bert agrees. “Penelope’s dress is gonna be fuckin’ fancy. I’ll do a little research and find something that’ll work. Old people wear diapers all the time; I don’t mind wearing one for a few hours if it’ll keep Penelope dry.”

This statement warrants a second eye roll from Lucy, but she’s laughing despite herself.

“Can you think of a better solution?” he wonders, peering down at the top of her head. Her hair, now close to an inch in length, is so blonde it looks almost white. A tuft of it sticks up in the back causing her to vaguely resemble Dennis the Menace. “Because I can’t. And it’s not like I’m gonna go into it planning to wet my pants. The diaper’ll merely be a precaution.”

“It’s not a completely terrible idea,” Lucy amends.

“I think it’s an easy solution to a difficult problem,” Kathryn deems. “Besides, how long do you expect to be portraying Penelope anyway? A few hours?”

“Maybe all day,” Bert says, grinning goofily. “I’m so fuckin’ excited!”

Kathryn chuckles and flops back on the mattress, resting her hands behind her head and peering at Bert. “Fill me in on the Pink Pumpkin Plunge specifics, wouldja? When does it start? How long will it last? Tell me the details.”

Lucy wraps a third tier of pale pink tulle around Bert’s waist and pins it in place. “How poofy do you want her skirt to be?” she wonders, even though she’s already accurately predicted his response of “The poofier, the better!”

Beaming, Bert turns his attention to Kathryn and rattles off, “Registration will begin at eight and the actual plunge is scheduled for nine. If we have a lot of participants, we’ll run a couple different waves.” He shares other details as well, explaining that the Marina has not only promised to host the event, but has also agreed to orchestrate a bonfire so folks can get warm again after a chilly dip in the lake. Bottomless Joe’s will be there with its coffee cart; Piping Hot has promised to prepare special pink-hued pastries and scones, along with pumpkin muffins; and the hospital will have a stand to educate the public about breast cancer. “I’d hand out balloon animals if I knew how to make ‘em,” Bert laments. “Maybe I should come up with something else to pass around.”

“For the kids?” Lucy confirms. “How about some candy? It’ll be Halloween after all.” She examines the petticoat, which now has five flouncy layers of tulle, and raises her eyebrows. “Poofy enough?”

Bert glances down at himself and pats his wide hips, smoothing the scratchy fabric. “It’s perfect,” he praises. “What’s next? Is it time for the funny pants that go underneath?”

“The bloomers? Yes. What do you think of this fabric?” She walks to a length of cotton draped over her sewing machine and picks it up, displaying it for her friends. The pattern consists of a white background with magenta polka dots the size of silver dollars. “I’ll put ruffles around the leg openings. I thought I’d have them fall around your knees. Oh! And I also found these!” She rummages through a plastic bag looped over the back of her chair and unearths a long pair of striped socks. “They’re thigh-highs,” she explains. “We’ll pin them to the fat suit to make sure they stay up.”

Bert hops off the stool and swishes his way over to take a closer look at both the fabric and the footwear. “I approve,” he says simply, and then asks, “What’re the patterns you got for the dress? Can I see those as well?”

“Sure. Kathryn helped me pick everything out. We had a pretty good time.”

“We did,” Kathryn reinforces from where she’s sprawled on the mattress. “I chose the plaid and the swirls and the teeny, tiny jack-o-lantern prints.”

“And I chose everything else,” Lucy says, pulling several yards of fabric from yet another bag and handing them one at a time to Bert. Some of the prints are big, others are small, and still others are solid blocks in varying shades of orange and pink. The pudgy man in his flirtatious skirt examines each one before stacking it on the bed. “I think,” he eventually says after viewing all of the possibilities, “that Penelope’s dress is going to be the prettiest patchwork dress on the planet. Will it be hard to make, d’you think?”

“Compared to the fat suit you’re wearing? No. It’ll seem like a piece of cake. I just hope Halloween doesn’t end up being unseasonably warm this year because if you’re wearing that much insulation, you’re gonna be hot.”

“I’d rather high temps than rain.”

Kathryn props herself up on her elbows and glances over at him. “That would suck.”

Bert nods vigorously.

“It’s not going to rain,” Lucy adamantly declares. “The weather is going to be cool and dry and everything will go off without a hitch. Just wait. It’ll be perfect!”

First-Page Post! (#1)

I've written a lot of novels over the years, but only a handful of them have been published (so far). Therefore, I've decided to occasionally post a first page of something unpublished and maybe somewhere down the road you'll have access to the pages that come after it! What do you think of that?

Here are the rules:

You don't get to know which book it's from. You have to understand that it may change between now and publication.

And now that we've covered the basics, here's a snippet of Hannah Rae writing for your reading enjoyment:

“When you turn eighteen, your body will truly belong to you, but until then, it’s technically mine.”

For years, this had been Emory Kincaid’s response every time his son Jameson begged for a tattoo. No matter what the size (“Just a tiny star on the inside of my wrist, Da!”) or where the location (“How about a tribute to Ireland, between my shoulderblades?”), Emory had never waivered, and so that is why he now perches on a stool in his studio, with Jameson seated before him, narrowing his eyes at the hourglass stenciled on the young man’s palm. The ink is purple; sand spills from one orb into another.

Grimacing, Emory shakes his head and lifts his dark eyes to meet those of his son. “You’re sure, are you? Because this’ll hurt like hell, Jamie. And you know how I feel about—”

“Tattooing a hand?” Jameson finishes. “Yeah, I do. But you’re not exactly one to talk, are you?”

The words contain a hint of snark, but the young man’s expression indicates nothing short of good humor, and despite Emory’s best efforts, he can’t help offering a wry smile. He’s not one to talk, after all, seeing as his first tattoo had been added to his body at the meager age of eleven. A simplistic triangle on his right forearm, the shape commemorates the obsession he’d once had with Amelia Earhart and her possible disappearance in the Bermuda Triangle.

The shape has since been covered up.

Emory’s obsession hadn’t lasted beyond junior high.

Alrighty, that's all you get!

Trivia Recap: 3/16

Mary wrote this week's blog for me because I am still recovering from a stomach bug. She's a good friend!

From Mary:

I must have done a great job writing the blog last week because Hannah has me, Mary, back to write another trivia blog.

The Players: Mary (English teacher), Brock (complicated graphic-design-and-marketing job), Ben (not a gymnast), and Danielle (bartender)

Hint of the Day: Yankee Baseball Player

Opening Category: American Pies (This was the true opening category that we chose last week but it was presented as Pies of America).

Round One:

The first question of our chosen opening category asked about a Pennsylvania Dutch pie which Ben and Brock knew was shoofly. I don’t eat a lot of sweets or pie so I wasn’t much help with this one. The next clue was 3 Clues 1 Word and asked about a WNBA team from Indiana and an SNL skit. We did not know the WNBA team but Brock and Ben were able to get the answer after the SNL clue which was fever. Our third category for the round was Household Inventions and Ben knew that the 1938 invention was Teflon. The next question asked about U.S. Presidents and of course, Ben being our team’s presidential expert, knew that the answer was James Madison. To end the round, the category was Incidents of the 20th Century. Ben knew it was Attica prison that had a four-day riot in 1971, but we did not know the film based on it. We had a pretty strong opening round, only missing a few bonuses.

Round Two:

The first question of the round was our audio question, which was to name the actors that played this famous villain. Ben and Brock immediately thought that the villain was going to be The Joker and started naming actors. They were correct in their assumption and we got all three actors with ease. The second category was NBA Teams, again Ben and Brock knew that the answer was the Bulls. The TV Spin-offs category had us stumped. I remembered seeing advertisements for Yellowstone and its spin-offs but I could not remember the exact years. We got 1883 and 1923 thanks to Danielle. Apparently, the three of us need to watch Yellowstone and its spin-offs. The next category was American Companies and the hint of the day was used here with the answer being Yankee Candle. The last question asked about Meghan Trainor and her viral music which I knew and that got us the points.

Halftime:

The top half of this week’s halftime sheet was a lot of fun for me because I love board games. We were to name the board games pictured on coffee cups. The bottom half was challenging. It asked to name ten U.N. member states whose common English names are four letters. Through this process, I realized that I can name a lot of five-letter countries; four is much more challenging. Luckily, we were able to correctly name seven and we got 16/20. At this point, our scores were read and I was really proud of the three of us for doing so well in the first half of the game. I was also proud of myself for taking on the role of the scorekeeper. Even though I wasn’t using the score sheet totals column correctly, (thanks for pointing that out, Brock), my math was correct and we were in third place.

Round Three:

This round was rough for us and this is where we began to talk each other out of correct answers. The first category was North American Geography. The question asked which two states border Saskatchewan and I mistakenly told Ben to choose Minnesota instead of Montana. We did get North Dakota though. The next category was World Religions. We got that question right with the answer being Hinduism. The next two questions were our downfall. We missed all three clues for the Silent Letters category and we went with Kelvin instead of Fahrenheit for the next question. Luckily, we redeemed ourselves with the last question of the round by knowing that James Spader played in Boston Legal.

6 - 4 - 2:

When the six-point clue was read, I had an inkling that the answer was Wonder Woman. We decided to wait and went with the answer on the four-point clue, giving us our points. After our scores were read, we fell to second-to-last-place. I decided to optimistically point out that we could only go up from here, but Brock realistically told me that we could still go down. However, my optimism paid off.

Round Four:

The first category was Gymnastics and it sparked a lot of debate within the team. We knew that both men's and women’s gymnastics had the vault but we missed the floor routine event even though it was discussed. We knew the fashionable accessory for the next category was a bolo tie and on a guess, we knew that the author of an 1842 short story was Edgar Allan Poe. We knew that Johnson and Johnson baby shampoo and an Ozzy Osborne song shared the title, “No More Tears.” The final question’s category was Animated Film Characters. I knew the last two films were Bambi and Beauty and the Beast but was unsure about the first film being Coco. We went with Ferdinand instead and missed the bonus points.

Final Round:

Falling behind the leading team by thirteen points, our correct answer of Charlie Chaplin moved us from fourth place and into a second-place win.

Next week’s opening category is Bluegrass Music and it is an audio clue.

I will always have a brother.

My brother Curt, whom I always referred to as "The Pip," would have been 37 today, and even though he's been gone for more than three years now, that doesn't make me an only child. I will never be an only child because I grew up with the best sibling I could have ever asked for!

When I wanted him to, Pip would hold my feet. That was something I used to enjoy as a child: I'd lie on the couch, and rather than prop my feet on an ottoman or a coffee table, I'd have my younger brother hold my feet and elevate them to my liking. Pip was capable of elevating my feet to the perfect height. As a six- or seven-year-old, he was easy to persuade, but he became more reluctant to fulfill this desire as we grew into adulthood. Still, I can remember being in my twenties and requesting that he hold my feet, and to Pip's credit, he did it! (He refused once we reached our thirties, but I do not hold this against him.)

As kids living at Lake Heritage, some friends and I used to host what was known as the Kids' Olympics. We organized bike races and running races, swimming races and three-legged races... Stuff like that. We also made prizes (construction-paper ribbons, mostly) that were awarded to the winners. In the middle of the day, there was a sort of halftime show. Pip performed. He came outside in a bathrobe, with "dirt" (eye shadow and mascara, I believe) smeared on his cheeks, and proceeded to sing this ridiculous song in our front yard. I think the song was something that originally aired on Nickelodeon, but I'm not positive about that. All I know is that the chorus went like this:

Washing my face!

Getting it clean!

Cleaner than it's ever been!

Pip was a funny, funny child. He liked to perform, though I don't recall him being involved in theatre all that much. He played in the pit for the high school musical each year (I have his cello in my studio!) and was in a band (The Trendsettaz took first place at Battle of the Bands three years in a row; can you say "trifecta"?), but he wasn't usually a get-up-on-stage-and-perform kind of guy. UNLESS that performance occurred in my parents' bedroom.

Do any of you remember West Coast Video? It was a video and video game rental place, existing even before Blockbuster, I believe. My family went there a lot because Pip was a video-game addict. Generally, he rented a game and I watched him play it. Sometimes, if the game was appealing to me (Bubble Bobble, Battletoads, and Marble Madness being examples of things that piqued my interest), I might participate, but I generally just talked to him while he attempted to destroy each level. There was this one game called ToeJam and Earl. I have no idea which console it was for or what the point of the game even was. One of the characters was a skinny guy (ToeJam, I think?) and one was really obese (probably Earl). I thought the name of the game was funny and so while Pip was trying to beat the game, I wrote a script about ToeJam and Earl. I then created a paper-bag mask that had ToeJam's face on one side and Earl's on another. I think Earl was the backside because when I later put Pip in costume, I remember shoving a pillow under his shirt to make it look as though his back was actually a giant belly. Essentially, the play involved him standing in our parents' bedroom and spinning in circles, reciting ToeJam and Earl's lines while my mom and I watched and laughed.

Shortly after Pip passed away, my mom attended some sort of neighborhood thing that she didn't really want to go to. I think of this often and I wasn't even there. Anyway, at this neighborhood thing, a neighbor who didn't really know my mom asked if she had kids... and she answered, "Yes." The person then asked, "How many?" And this was a hard question for my mom because she was down to one kid, kind of. But not really. My mom will always have two kids. And so she eventually answered, "Two," and the friend she was there with, who was standing beside her, said something like, "That's right." And I just think of that sooooo frequently, because it gets tricky once a sibling or child passes away. It's a weird thing to talk about.

Right after Pip's death, I felt almost bad about bringing up my brother with my students because oftentimes they'll want to know more about him. Where does he work? What's our age difference? The girls generally like to know if he's cute. So I stopped talking about him for a while. Now, however, I don't hesitate to bring him up. If I have a Pip story, I share it, and sometimes I just preface it with, "When my brother was alive..."

I did this the other day. I don't even remember what I was telling my students, but I remember I was saying it in first period and I started it with, "When my brother was alive..." and the story was a good one, you know? It was happy. But after I shared it, one of my kids turned around (we'll call her Western State, because I know my students enjoy receiving nicknames in my blogs) and said, "Ms. Meeson. Are you okay?" And I was like, "Yeah. I'm fine. Why?" Truly, I was baffled by this response. And then Western State said, "Because you just told us your brother died." It was so sweet. It's students like Western State who make teaching worth it. I adore that kid; she's kind to her core.

Anyway... I just wanted to remember Pip in writing today. So I did.

I think about him a hundred times every day, and I wish he was still here to help me remember all of our childhood experiences, but in a way, he is still here. Because I will always have a brother. He will always be a part of me and he will always be alive in my memories and the memories of his friends. And the world is better off having had him in it... if only for a short time.