I waited 39 years to get over my fear of math and dice to finally attempt my very first Dungeons & Dragons game with internet friends I have known for ages. I have conquered part of my fears, but not all of them, as Roll20.net makes die rolls 100000% easier to beginners! Our DM decided since we were all practically new, we’d start out with level 10 characters because she decided to run City of the Spider Queen. She adjusted it for 5e as much as she could and also tossed in a lot of home brew elements too.
I have been having an absolute ball playing Anthracite Ironbelly, my cleric, with my husband, Shawn, who plays Boddlur’s the Germanic-sounding bard, our DM Lil, and our Rogue Zalima with the Paladin, Corvin. I sure hope this highlight of our game play amuses you too!
If you dig it, you can usually check us live streaming our D&D games every Saturday (when health and life participates) on my twitch channel found here: Pinkatron2000. You can also follow me on twitter here: Pinkatron2000, for live stream announcements and schedule updates. <3
Today is the infamous day, in the year of oh lawd, 2017, when my husband, Shawn and I celebrate 8 years of official marriage. Actual we gotta piece of paper ‘n everything! marriage, as opposed to use getting together back in 2003 and from then on our simply referring to one another as husband and wife married. Our love is fourteen years old today and if it were a teenager in today’s world…Jesus, I would feel pretty torn up being a teen this year, also with the added befuddlement of hormones, brain development, and figuring out your place in this society…Anyway, I got a little side tracked, as you do, when you have the attention span of a gnat. Oh. You don’t? Oh..But let’s move on.
In celebration of 8 official years of marriage, I would like to share with you the eight reasons why I love Shawn.
8 reasons why I love my husband, a celebration of full frontal geekery:
You know how sometimes we all have ‘off’ days? Where our emotions or brain or hormones simply show up and trash the inside of your head then duck out and leave you with the mess? The first 6 years of being together, this is what Shawn had to deal with….everyday. Why is that important? It’s important because during those years I was absolutely, 100% unmedicated as well as still not diagnosed with severe depression and Bipolar II. For those of you not familiar with BP II, it’s just a much slower, surfer dude BP. You still get the manic episodes, but maybe once a month–maybe every two months. My manic episodes involved doing every fucking thing all at once as well as having hare-brained schemes for shit that made no sense but at the time I was very into it because my brain is a little broken. The depressive episodes meant not doing anything . A polar (see what I did thar?) opposite of the manic. And these could last months and months with little breaks in between. During the weeks I was PMSing I was a mess. Not even a hot mess. Just a mess. And so I had, basically, an off day for six years of our relationship. And it was pretty awful. As some of you who suffer from the same things, or have a loved one who has to go off their meds for whatever reason–or has an episode and goes off their meds–I can hear you making understanding nods. And see, this man didn’t drop my broke-brained-mountain self. Instead? He stayed. Through all of that and the medicated part.2. We have our own married language. We finish each other’s –sandwiches–sentences. Sometimes, I think we may actually be semi-telepathic or something. There can be days where I will quietly crave a food, or think about a certain song stuck in my head and I won’t say anything about it but BAM. Shawn will look at me funny one day and go, “Y’know, I’ve been thinking a lot about : indian food/pizza/chinese food/going to ___ and getting ___” and I will yodel like a dork: “I HAVE BEEN THINKING THAT ALL WEEK! OMG!” We speak in old MEME tongues often. Our cat will sit a certain way and we’ll look at it and at the same time blurt: “He should buy a boat,” or, “these aren’t my glasses?” and, “but that’s none of my business.” Sometimes we don’t even say a full MEME or hilarious Thing We’ve Seen Or Read. Sometimes I just say a single word. Just one! And he gets me. YOUUUU COMPLEEEETEEE MEEEE!3. Apparently my blanket hogging, snoring, space consuming ass is, actually, missed when it doesn’t get into bed on time when he does. He tells me that he can sleep, yes (and boy I still wanna punch him in the face with love at how quickly this man can go from wide-awake to literally snoring in 3 minutes or less!) but that if I am not in the bed, it’s a fitful sleep. That he wakes up and notices I’m not there a lot. During the first year of finding new meds to treat me brain pan, he used to physically get up out of bed and come find me. He’d peek around corners, hair stuck up as if recently gently electrocuted, eyes half glued shut and mumble: “Y’alright? Y’okay? Y’doin’ okay?” just to make sure. Interrupting your own precious sleep simply to check up on someone? That’s love, yo.4. I fail. A lot. I failed in getting a job. I failed in school. I failed at the invisible Housewife standard that some people hold where I’m apparently able to whip my house up into sparkling clean tingting sound-effects shine whilst drinking wine out of my crystal glasses that NEVER EVER BREAK and eating chocolates from paris. (Maybe that’s just my imagination.) At any rate, I don’t work. Lucky for me, he got the chance to work from home so I’m not left alone. (Because one time, I decided to step on the glass stove to paint–and the stove broke, but my foot didn’t??? some how??? but there was glass everywhere. Like…Glass dust.) Despite the fact that this part of our relationship is wildly out of balance he…just do. Like Shia Labeouf’s tired meme, he JUST DOES IT. He goes to work. He gets dat money. He spends it all on keeping a house (that I don’t clean very well) over my head and food (lots obvs) in mah belleh and food for kitties and birds and does it all because he can and he wants to. I guess, if you look at it my way, I didn’t fail when it comes to husbanding!
5. We equally hate socializing and yesterday when we early celebrated our anniversary by seeing Wonder Woman and eating Indian food, we went home and things got really exciting if ya know what I mean. Wink Wink. Nudge Nudge. …..we napped. That’s right. We romantically napped together in a food coma. Awww yisss.
6. We are both Star Wars nerds. He is more inclined to the tech side. I love the stories. We both know shit just got real however whenever one of us says: “I love you more than Star Wars.” Awww hells yeah, it’s romanticle time!
7. Neither of us can be trusted to go into any pet store to purchase supplies for our cats in case of Adoption Days. We literally cannot say no. To kittens. To one eyed tom cats with half an ear
and multiple scars and broken tails to old grumpy hissy spitty cats that like to hide. We are not allowed near any cat adoption days anymore and we certainly are not allowed to know their name or give them a name or else good bye heart, good bye forever. Shawn used to be able to go and get cat food, kitty litter, etc–but ever since the day he almost broke because of a fluffy white siamese kitten that would not stop staring at him–he has decided that we will henceforth purchase cat food and kitty litter and toys via Amazon. And as much as that means I won’t get to fondle kittens….I think it’s a very good idea. And what that means is, we’re both cat people. And I love that he loves cats. And gets me. I am the rare married crazy cat lady.
8. He loves me. I am not a good human. Or at least, I wasn’t. I was not an easy person to love. My mental health made barriers, made issues that weren’t there, made arguments that should have never happened, happen and made me, as I’ve described before–a little blob of hurt, confused spite–that lashed out for seemingly no reason. It took a lot to love me then. But he did. He loved me even when he should have given up. He loved me even when I floundered. He loved me when I was at my absolute worst, morning breath and all, and he loved me when I got better, too. He loved me when I stayed in bed all day and could barely get the energy to wash myself and he loved me when I went through the house like a whirlwind with a scrub brush. He loved me when I stood in the middle of a pet store and cried because we couldn’t afford to save a third cat, when we already had 2 (the apartment we were living in at the time, had a 2 large pet restriction.) And he still loves me. I’m not sure what I did to deserve this. Actually, I’m pretty sure I didn’t. But hey, if there’s hope for me then there’s hope for everyone.
There are a million more reasons why I am celebrating our marriage today and everyday. But this page won’t hold a million. So I showcased 8. Here’s to us, honey. We did it! We survived! Let’s keep that up!
Shawn: [while I am coming out of the bathroom.] “You know…I wouldn’t be adverse to you making more coffee. Just puttin’ that out there. Y’know. Just in case.”
Me: [ Stop in mid step. Widen eyes. GASP. Flail my arms, ] ” OH MY GOD I just got the greatest idea ever…What IF…”
Shawn: [Pretends to lean on the wall and looks enthralled.]
Me:“WHAT if…WHAT IF….What if I made some more coffee?”
Shawn: “HOLY SHIT it’s like you can read my mind!”
Me: “I NO RITE???”
Me: makes more coffee. Life returns to usual morning routine.
What a way to reintroduce myself back into the world of WordPress and blogging, am i rite guise? It’s been…years. Let’s share a post about my junk and my period cat. GOOD THINKING! …And I’ve been floating in the ether of not doing shit about blogs for a very long time. I think it’s because facebook and google plus are the sugary quick social snacks of my life. And boy have I been stuffing my face. With quick social sites. Also food, but good food. Because I’m eating better. And that’s like, totally another story and post for another day right? ANYHOO–
Okay, now that I have suitably frightened the shit out of those who are squeamish or not willing to read and or discuss anything that has to do with monthly lady business…
I have a period cat.
Mel, you ask, what the hell is a period cat? And I’ll say: I’m so glad you asked. LET ME TELL YOU.
Usually, women are much smarter about their periods than I, on the whole. I didn’t get into actually trying to track my monthly RED WEDDING until a few YEARS ago–when I realized that HOLY GOD SOME SMART MOFOS made TRACKING APPS! I COULD GET WARNED BEFORE THE DESTROYER CAME TO TOWN! Or at the very least, since my period is about as predictable as I am–a general consensus of when and where I should be ready to shut down and feel like I am dying for a week so I can plan and prepare.
I’m not sure when it happened. And it took me a long time to clue in. But–here’s the thing: we have five cats. The oldest, and crankiest, and craziest is named Flora. Flora is a tiny little black cat who the Vets she goes to–to my CONSTANT delight (I love it), have sweetly nicknamed her SATAN KITTY. We think Flora is half siamese. She has that very, very, very distinctive siamese nose and triangle head–but is all black (or all very deep brown in direct sunlight.) She is a very nutty, bitey, scratchy, hissy loveable cat. Not all cats are super affectionate love bugs, and we at Casa De Pence are ok with that. Hell, Shawn owned a cat before we got married–and had her years after–that hid 18 hours of the day behind the bed and only came out to let us pet her, use the litter box, eat, and hide again.
Flora is …”particular”.
She WANTS your attention and affection, yes. But only how SHE wants it. And the secret is: she never tells us how. Somedays you can pet her head and scritch the side of her face for hours until she turns into a liquid. Some days she allows you to pet her for EXACTLY 4.5 pets and then she freaks out and wants to devour your soul. That’s just how she is.
But for the last few years, she’s taken, to what I thought was randomly, sleeping directly on my pillow a few nights out of the month. Sometimes its just one night. Sometimes it’s two-three. And when she does, she will LITERALLY take up the entire pillow by loafing smack dab in the middle leaving me no room but a corner to either nuzzle her forepaws, or have her ass warm the top of my head. And she WON’T budge.
After she has done this catly duty, she won’t be seen on the bed again for another month-ish.
And recently I realized that she has been doing this, on the dot, 1-3 days before I get my period.
Literally, if she is on my pillow, I don’t even have to look at my period tracker app anymore because if I see her on my pillow I know THE STORMS A’COMIN’.
Some people use the calendar. Some people use a tracker. Some people don’t use anything. Me? I get a period cat.
April 2nd, huh. You missed out on the really fun shenanigans that often happen during April fools by only a day. That means that, depending on how you felt and how dad felt, April fools jokes were still going to be played whether you wanted them or not. I don’t remember all the April’s Fools the two of you played with me and with each other. The only one that really stuck out in my mind was when, in my early teens, my mother pulled me aside with stillness in her features. She bade me sit down and said, “I have something important to tell you,” with low words. I couldn’t read her face. I couldn’t figure out if I had gotten into trouble of it I’d done something–all I knew is that burbling, wordless fear started crawling around in my brain trying to find anything that I’d done wrong recently.
“Uh. Okay,” I said.
She was in her favorite rocking chair. She leaned in close and put her hand over mine. And then the stoic mask she’s worn earlier slipped with her one-corner-of-mouth smile as she said: “You’re going to have a little brother or sister!”
And of course I start flapping my arms around lik they were made of two week old celery that’s not dried out enough to be bad, but certainly rubbery. “REALLY?” I asked, in that sub-sonic woman’s voice reserved for newborns, puppies, kittens, and those moments that happen in your favorite move. It’s at this point that I notice my mother’s smile turning to smirk. It happened slow; along the left hand side of her mouth it would begin to curl a little downward, showing laugh-line creases. Then her eyes, once steady, became glittering with the laughter she withheld .
She came clean to me and reminded me of the date: April 1st. I was disappointed, but not mad. It was, for me and for her, a trifling little April fools between us that meant no hard.
April is coming.
April fools and then
My mother’s birthday.