Being laid off stinks. There are no pros, not really. I just have the constant stress of needing to find a job and my weeks and days feel endless. I’ve been keeping my chin up and all the usual cliches that my friends and family have tried to cheer me up with but I’ve hit the wall of sadness now.

Aside from that daily pity party I throw for me, myself and I, I have grown accustomed to my daily dose of Dawson. That’s right – Pop TV plays not one, not two, BUT THREE episodes daily of Dawson’s Creek. So while I’m combing career sites, looking for my next big break, I leave Dawson and crew on the TV to keep me company. Then, if that’s not enough, 90210 reruns come on right after, for another three, count ’em three, episodes! Pop TV really does know how to appeal to us nearly-40 crowd. So every day I hum along to that annoying Paula Cole theme song, which then turned into another equally annoying theme song in later seasons. And then, I do the Jason Priestley fist bump during the opening credits of 90210. It’s all super-nostalgic and the older I get, the more crazy nostalgic I have become.

Dawson originally was on TV during college and a bit after. I remember getting my hubby hooked on its silliness. We still laugh how not-realistic their dialog is, for kids in high school and then college. It’s part of the fun though to laugh along at their clever dialog. You’d think Shonda Rhimes studied every episode since her shows now have similar scripting but the difference is that the ages of her peeps can really be saying the lines they utter, regardless of how not-true-to-life they are. Still funny and highly-entertaining.

90210 was junior high and high school for me. I used to run to my rotary, yes, rotary, phone to call my best friend during the commercials. There was no “pausing” as DVRs allow so we could talk as long as we wanted – we had to be strategic and talk quickly, get the high points out, and then run back to the TV to watch the next sequence. We’d then have a longer call after the show, breaking it down scene by scene and giggling all the way. Man, those were the days. Homework seemed like a drag at the time but it beats looking for a job, let me tell you. Nevertheless, I do hope my days of watching Dawson’s Creek and 90210 mini-marathons are almost over. As much as I love reliving those episodes, I do also have them all on DVD. It’s time for the job gods to shine down on me. Sorry, Pop TV. I know you appreciated my ratings but Mama needs a new pair of shoes.

I have a really hard time deciding what my favorite TV show is since I watch so many great ones. People ask me all the time and I can never give them a straight answer.  I end up trying to rattle off all the shows I watch, which is a long, long list and then they look at me like I really am a TV junkie. Because, let’s face it, I am. I do know though without a doubt that The Walking Dead is on my top five list.

I’ve never been a huge horror fan. I used to be braver when I was younger and hit all the haunted houses during Halloween and watched most horror flicks. The older I’ve gotten, the more skittish of horror happenings I’ve become. So a show like this you wouldn’t think would be a favorite. It’s so much more than a show about zombies though. Don’t get me wrong, the zombies are awesome – they are beyond believable. But it’s the personal stories and the struggle of this group of people fighting to survive in this new world that keeps me coming back for more.

Sunday night’s Season 7 premiere was probably the best episode the show has ever aired. That’s just my humble opinion. It also could have been the adrenaline rush of waiting since April to see who of all the beloved characters faced their bitter demise with the help of Negan and Lucille. And then to find out that it wasn’t just one but two main characters was brutal. I cried like I lost a couple of loved ones in a surprise car accident or plane crash. My husband and daughter kept laughing at how emotional I was. But I’ve lived with these characters for a long time and it was terrible to see them meet their end in such a gory, gory way.

Through all the tears though, I appreciated the craziness that is Negan. He is quite possibly the most evil villain, ever, to appear on TV. Zero remorse. And Jeffrey Dean Morgan is portraying the character exactly as everyone had hoped.

I don’t read the comic books but my husband does. He’s been telling me about this heinous character for years and that he would eventually show up. When we’d heard he would finally be on the show, we were giddy with excitement. Or at least I was – my husband doesn’t get giddy. He was still looking forward to seeing him finally appear and the chaos he would ensue.

As I sat bawling my eyes out and then watched The Talking Dead right after the episode to reminisce with the cast of the show, I thought back to the first season and my very first encounter with the show.

It was July 2010 and my husband and I were at our third Comic Con in San Diego. The conference progressively has gotten more and more crazy crowded as the years have gone on, making it virtually impossible to see much more than one room’s programs a day, especially if you want to get into the big hall, Hall H. You just sit, stay and watch the whole day’s schedule because if you leave, someone else is dying to take your seat.

In 2010, we could still jump rooms and see lots of different panels, both TV and movies. We were big Lost fans and one of the characters, Jin, played by Daniel Dae Kim, was in a new re-boot of Hawaii 5-O. We were excited to see it. Both my husband and I had seen the original series when we were kids so it was very nostalgic it was coming back. And to have one of our favorite Lost actors in it was a big plus. We camped out in the small room to see the panel and after hearing the actors and seeing the clips they brought with them to tease the upcoming new show, we were satisfied and ready to move on to our next destination that day. A bunch of people were staying in the room though and others were pushing their way in to find any possible empty seats. I went to get up and the guy next to me said, “Are you really leaving?” I told him yes and that we were on our way to the movie room, Hall H, for whatever the rest of the day had on the schedule. I don’t remember. I just know it was something we wanted to see. He shook his head and said there was a great new zombie show panel coming up based on a popular comic book.

“Zombies?” I questioned.

“Yes, it’s great! You should stay!” I thanked him for the information and we left anyway.

We got home after the long weekend and I started seeing commercials about a month later for this new show on AMC called The Walking Dead. I figured it had to be the show the guy was talking about. But on AMC? It couldn’t be any good – it wasn’t HBO or Showtime. Although the network did birth both Breaking Bad and Mad Men so it was worth a shot. But zombies? Really? I was intrigued enough though to watch and I’ve never regretted my decision since the show premiered on Halloween night 2010. I do regret that I didn’t stick around that day for their first ever Comic Con panel. And to think I was there for Hawaii 5-O which turned out to suck. Sorry if you’re reading this and you’re a fan but it just wasn’t great. I had to cut it from my TV list after a few episodes. The Walking Dead however has kept my attention for seven seasons and I can hardly wait for every Sunday to roll around.

Here’s to Glenn and Abraham! Thank you for being such great actors – so great in fact that I felt like you were part of my life and that I was attending your funerals. You will be missed but revenge is a dish best served cold. Rick and family are coming for you, Negan, no matter how long it takes.

I have a confession to make. I’ve been a lazy ass once again and have not kept my promise to myself and others. It’s been many, many moons since I’ve posted on my blog. But, I was recently inspired to get back into the swing of things and write again. Thanks to my girl Nikki for the motivation!

Now that I’ve gotten that off my chest, it’s time to get down to the business at hand – Halloween! It’s the most glorious holiday.  Yes, I said it – even better than Thanksgiving or Christmas. Don’t get me wrong – I love turkey dinner and presents but Halloween is a night to be someone you’re not. To be creative and eat lots of candy. And pumpkins! Everything pumpkin. It’s really the kick off of the fall season with so many awesome events and great sweet treats. And the decorations! For a shopaholic like me, it’s the perfect time to stock up on even more spooky treasures. And I Halloween-ize everything that’s standing. Our yard and house are the best on the street, to the point where people take photos with our yard decorations. That’s just how fun it is.

I’m basically the Griswold of Halloween. (My hubby is really the true Griswold since Christmas is his obsession.) It started at an early age and almost 39 years later it’s only amplified with time. I learned from the best, my mom. She has always been the ultimate holiday-decorator and costume-maker. That’s where I fall down. Since leaving home for college back in 1996, I haven’t really made a costume since. I became a store-bought kind of gal. For years my mom would spend all her waking hours making my costumes. The one that she would likely say was the toughest and where she wanted to throw in the towel was the year I wanted to be Tweety Bird. I think I was in preschool and I never missed a chance to watch The Looney Tunes. So she got to work on creating my fluffy yellow costume, complete with aqua blue eyes. It was head to toe awesome but I do recall at some point in the process, when she was giving her sewing machine the finger, that she asked my dad to just take me somewhere, away from the house, as she held back Niagara Falls-level tears. The costume came out great and you would have never known it gave her so much trouble.

Another year I was a much simpler bunch of purple grapes. A purple leotard, purple tights, purple make-up and purple balloons made for a much easier costume.  And I even won for my grade that year at the costume contest. I won most year’s BTW – that’s how excellent my costumes where and it was all because of my mom’s handy-work.

Another memorable costume was 8th grade’s choice – the Statue of Liberty. I have always been a huge fan of Lady Liberty. We dyed a bed sheet light green, made a crown and a tablet, got some sandals, and painted my hair and face green. I was sort of Hulk/Jolly Green Giant green for a few days afterwards. That color really sticks, especially back in the early 90s.

I was also a mouse in a wedge of cheese one year. The wedge of cheese (complete with holes in it) was  made out of cardboard and spray-painted yellow. The mouse was easy – ears and a tail, along with a nose and whiskers.

Our neighbors always loved to see what we’d come up with each year, as I went door-to-door, trick or treating. Lots of great memories made.

In the last few years, I’ve continued to dress up but gotten lazier and lazier about my costume choices. I’m definitely more focused on making sure Syd has something good now. I haven’t even figured out what this year’s get-up will be. But I will – I always do and won’t just wear a Halloween-themed shirt. That’s for my hubby. 🙂

I’ve always loved Vegas but not really for the gambling since I typically only play slots.

When I was first legal to gamble, I’d go all out with Blackjack, thinking I could be like the kids from 21 but I was no MIT student.  I was lucky to break even so I’ve mostly stuck with slots since then.

I really love Vegas for the shows and concerts (I’m a certified Cirque du Soleil Junkie), the restaurants (since now there’s way more than the average buffet and all the celebrity chefs have invaded), the shopping (duh, shopaholic) and the bars and clubs (I heart beer and sometimes think I’m Chelsea Handler and can handle vodka only to quickly realize I need to leave that rocket fuel to the professionals).

I’ve had many epic trips to Vegas. Long before The Hangover movie was even a thought, I was living La Vida Loca. Zach, Bradley and Ed have got nothing on me and my friends. From my bachelorette party where I ended up passed out in the stairwell of the Luxor (after being tucked into bed hours before at yes, that hotel, and  yes, I drunkenly sleep walked and yes, I did have my PJs on, thank Sweet Baby Jesus, and yes, I’m sure the camera guys in the hotel got a real kick out my drunk-ass shenanigans but sadly, I bet I wasn’t the first one to stairwell sleep) to the time my best friend and I convinced a couple of Russians we met at a club that we worked for the FBI because she had a P.I. license that looked close enough, it’s safe to say we’ve made plenty of great Sin City memories.

The most memorable though has to be the first time I went to Vegas after turning 21. My best friend and I waited to go over Memorial Day weekend, so we had plenty of time to make the most of a long weekend.

I had gone to AAA for hotel reservations. Yes, I’m that old – most of the online sites like Travelocity and Expedia were barely around so I was still very old school. AAA was always my go-to for travel so I was convinced they could help me this time around too.  I asked for a hotel near all the new casinos on The Strip and something more affordable.  Vegas wasn’t on sale back then like it is now so it was tough to find cheap rooms, unless you wanted to stay at Motel 6, which was not an option.  I was on an ASU college student budget but I wasn’t so broke that I would sleep with bed bugs.

The travel agent came back to me with a great rate at a Days Inn in “Downtown” as she said, near “all the action.” I’d stayed at plenty of Days Inn and other hotel/motels in that category so it worked for me. We didn’t plan on being in the room much anyway so it would work great. And I hadn’t bothered to look at the location because she told me it was where I’d wanted to be, “near all the action.”

We decided to fly because Southwest was really cheap or rather cheaper back then. And we knew we’d just take taxis while we were there to get around.

When our first taxi from the airport dropped us at the hotel, we knew our travel agent had made a mistake. We were way up north on the Strip, off of Fremont Street.  There  was a lot of “action” alright, especially at the police station that was right next door to the Days Inn. We were greeted as we got out of the taxi with a couple of policemen arresting some guys and cuffing them against the wall, just adjacent to the hotel lobby. It was awesome – Welcome to Vegas.  We were at least safe since we had a 24/7 alarm system in the form of a police station as our neighbor. That same scene of people being arrested continued for the whole weekend.  I don’t think there was ever a time that we walked by that wall to our room and didn’t  see people getting arrested.

We also realized that taxis were very expensive. I don’t remember how much we paid from the airport to the hotel but it was a lot, especially by our ballers-on-a-budget standards. So we were resourceful – we figured there had to be other forms of transportation, like the bus, so we didn’t waste all our spending money on taxis.

We walked to the 7-Eleven on the corner and went to the counter, asking the clerk about the bus. He said the city bus picked up right outside the door, on Las Vegas Boulevard and would run all up and down The Strip all day and night AND best yet, it was only $2. SOLD!

The bus pulled up and we hopped on. And we rode and we rode and we rode some more, for what I think was at least an hour, since it felt like it stopped every few feet.  But it’s about the journey not the destination! We kept our humor, and people-watched because man, the bus is the best place for that. At one point a clown from Circus Circus boarded and we got some awesome balloon hats made for us, something along the lines of our lower intestines. We looked ridiculous but we were having fun.

We finally made it down to the newer hotels, like New York New York. It was fabulous. I fell in love. The lights, the sounds, the everything. It was all great. We rolled around to all the hotels in that area, up and down the Strip, and shopped, ate and drank. And rinsed and repeated.

Hours later we made it back to our hotel to get ready to go out that night. The MGM had recently opened up Studio 54. That was a serious bucket list item for us. A club that was a replica of the original legendary joint was something we had to experience.

We got our club gear on and these new shoes that I had bought special for the trip – I knew it would be a risky move to wear new ones since rule of thumb always states don’t wear new shoes ESPECIALLY when you’re going to be walking a lot. But fuck it – I was in Vegas and was going to do what I wanted and suffer the consequences.

We hopped on the bus and as we made it down to an area we could walk from, my best friend realized she left her ID back in the room. I couldn’t believe it – we literally had been on the bus for over an hour and we knew there was no way we’d get in the club without it.

We jumped off the bus and started to hoof it back, hoping a bus would be headed North at some point. My dogs a.k.a. my feet, were already barking but I pushed through the pain. Cars whizzed by us yelling out awesome comments like “WHORES!” – we weren’t exactly in the best part of town, and near areas where hookers did walk the street so made sense, I suppose, but either way, super-lovely.

We finally made it back to the room and my best friend found her ID. We ran down to the corner to pick up the bus, again, and made our way back down south on the Strip one more time. By now it was getting late but fortunately Vegas only really gets rolling the later it gets.

I think we made it to Studio 54 after midnight and we just about closed the place down. At some point I couldn’t even feel my feet anymore. I was fairly certain I was going to have to have  them amputated at the end of the weekend but I didn’t  care. The club was the best I’d ever been to. It was exactly like all the photos and videos I’d seen of the original. Awesome, awesome.

We left the club and figured we deserved a cab back to the hotel. We devoured an early breakfast at the good ol’ El Cortez which was right across the street from our hotel.

I then soaked in the bathtub for a bit, hoping that my feet would turn back to normal color. Then I slept like the dead. At one point, my best friend really thought I had passed on because I literally never moved a muscle. I was more tired than I think I had been in a long time. Sin City takes it out of you but man, is it worth it.

I don’t remember the agenda for the next day but I know it would have been similar to Day 1, other that I hobbled around on my sore feet, leaving those heinous new ones behind. I literally threw them out at the hotel (I likely made the maid’s day but oh, if she only knew what she was in for!) and I bought new more comfortable ones on the trip for the second night out.

We did also make it to breakfast on our last morning before heading home to a legendary spot, The Peppermill Restaurant & Fireside Lounge. It really is something. I see it show up on Best Of lists all the time. But fun fact: we once tried to go there, after going for many trips before, only to find that the front door was chained up and a letter from the health department was on it. I did have a suspiciously grayish sausage one trip that left me feeling not so hot on the road trip home BUT could have been the ridiculous amounts of alcohol I consumed the night before too. One can never tell.

I heart Sin City and will continue to frequent it. I just celebrated my 38th birthday and couldn’t have been happier with my decision to have it as my birthday destination. My hubby wants to burn it down, just like Ed did in The Hangover, but that’s just because he grew up there. I on the other hand was only ever a visitor, even as a young girl with my parents, seeing Barbara Mandrell in concert and this new and super-talented magician that everyone raved about named David Copperfield.  I thank Vegas for more memories than should be allowed for a chick that’s still on the youngish side of her life. Here’s to many more ahead!

I likely have seen Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves no less than 1,000 times and that’s no exaggeration. I was obsessed with it when I was younger.  The sound track hooked me, I loved Kevin Costner but I also couldn’t wait to repeat the lines of one of the best bad guys that I feel Hollywood ever produced – Alan Rickman. Who could forget the line he spat out, proclaiming that “he would cut his [Robin Hood’s] heart out with a spoon” when he found him. He was funny and hateful all in the same breath. He was the villain you loved to hate.

I remember seeing him for the first time in Die Hard. Hearing his character, Hans Gruber, say Bruce Willis’s character’s name “McClane” in that thick accent over and over again was music to my ears.  I knew he was talented then and I followed him every step of the way in his career since, even when he got a chance to play characters that weren’t as villainous but more hilarious, like Metatron in Kevin Smith’s movie, Dogma. He could even pull off a western with the likes of Tom Selleck in Quigley Down Under.

Then the Harry Potter books came to life on the big screen and the news broke that Rickman would play Professor Severus Snape. I couldn’t imagine another actor that would have played that character better.  He brought out his vial attitude and meanness like no one else, making it believable and what I pictured while reading the books. And then years later in the series, he showcased the tender and tortured emotions of a broken man, bringing tears to my eyes.

To say he’ll be missed is an understatement.  He was truly one of the greats and I’ll continue to cherish his movies and the wonderful characters he played. Thank you, Alan, for entertaining us all for years. Hollywood and the world over lost a legend but your memory will live on for generations to come.

I’ve seen Pump Up the Volume so many times that I can recite it word for word and sing along with the entire soundtrack. I had the movie poster hanging in my room. I revered Christian Slater.

I binge-watched all of his movies after falling hard for him in that one. And I would drag my mom or friends to see any new ones at the theater for years later.

I’ve followed his career closely since those early days and he sadly didn’t have a lot of great movies or TV shows after his teen heart throb days but I still watched them all.  I didn’t care.  Anytime I saw his name show up in my Entertainment Weekly I would check out whatever it was. I had a history with this guy.  He was one of my first celeb crushes (the very first was Tom Selleck – who wouldn’t love those Magnum P.I. eyebrows in the opening credits, I mean come on – hot pocket!).

Now, years later, a little show on USA Network called Mr. Robot made a big splash with critics and fans like me with Christian as one of the main characters. He finally got a winner again.

And tonight he was awarded the Golden Globe for Best Supporting Actor for the show. I squealed and clapped at the TV, making my daughter shake her head and scold me for being so loud and my husband laugh.

The show is so great and he’s beyond deserving for the award. If you’re looking for a show to get caught up in, watch this one.  It’s like nothing else on TV – completely different. You too will then see why Christian needed a second chance with his career. He’s so talented and his character in this show is a perfect role for him. Congrats Mr. Slater! I knew Mr. Robot would be your Cinderella story.  Thank you for hanging in there for more than “four decades of entertainment” as he said in his acceptance speech. I’ll be anxiously awaiting Mr. Robot Season 2 and whatever awesome new projects this award will now gift you.

Some of my favorite events to attend are book signings. I’ve always been a big fan of books and reading.  Sadly the older I get the less I read merely due to lack of focus and laziness. And my TV and movie obsession doesn’t help too.  BUT, I still love it.  And I love getting to meet the authors, hear them talk about their craft and tell great stories.  It’s always entertaining and the people watching at the signings are a nice added bonus too.

I remember my first book signing even though it feels like it was a million years ago now because it was actually 12 years ago – sheesh, I am getting really old!

It was October 2003.  I was working for the Scottsdale Convention & Visitors Bureau in downtown Scottsdale. I found this really awesome mystery bookstore, The Poisoned Pen, near my office and had been frequenting it at lunch and after work for a few months prior.

The mystery genre had always been my favorite to read. I love a good whodunit.  Clear back to when I was young and reading novels by Christopher Pike , mysteries were always my favorite to find and get lost in.

Happening into The Poisoned Pen was like my mystery nirvana. Floor to ceiling mystery novels just waiting to be discovered.  I couldn’t believe it took me that many years to find it, after having lived in the Phoenix area since August 1996. And, when I discovered that they kept a full calendar of book signings, I was even more intrigued.  I had never been to a signing and as I’ve mentioned before, having grown up in a small town, I was always starstruck by celebrities. So meeting famous authors AND getting a signed copy of their latest book was a no-brainer. Plus, I got my degree in journalism so anything related to writing was an A+ in my book, pun intended.

The day I saw on their calendar that Dave Barry was going to be signing his new mystery novel, I’m fairly certain my heart skipped a beat, even as cheesy as that sounds.  I had been following Dave for literally my entire life, or at least the part from when I learned how to read to present day.

I remember racing to the kitchen on Sunday mornings to rip the Life/Entertainment section out of our local very small newspaper that my dad would be reading in order to devour Dave’s latest syndicated column from the Miami Herald. He was my writing inspiration as the most awesome humorist I feel the news world has ever had.  You could probably argue there are other writers that are better but Dave was and is the bomb. I read all his books and laughed until I hurt at his humor. I couldn’t believe that he had ventured out into the mystery category and penned a new book AND was coming to town too! I was a giddy book nerd!

I purchased the book ahead of time and got a ticket for the signing.  I was told to arrive by a certain time and that it was first come first serve for seating. I remember leaving work early so that I could be there even earlier than the time they told me to arrive and I literally was the first person to take a seat, hours before the signing, right up front, like the true stalker fan I was quickly becoming. I didn’t bring other books or things for him to sign – I decided to only have him sign his new novel.  That seemed right and slightly less psycho-fan-esque even though I had to fight off the urge to bring all his books and make him personalize them all to his Numero Uno fan.

It ended up being a packed house with standing room only, as you can imagine. But I had the best seat in the house, sitting starry-eyed and hanging on his every humorist word. It was everything I had hoped for and then some.

I couldn’t think of anything smart and funny to say when I had him sign my book – happens to me often because I go to a lot of book signings and still don’t know what to say that doesn’t sound like you’re trying too hard AND you’re just like the last few thousand people who tried to do the same thing.  Just a simple thank you and how much I have enjoyed his work over the years was what I told him. I do also remember telling him I wanted to be a humor writer like him and hoped to pen some novels someday too. Still working on that goal but you never can tell. This blog is one step closer.

That book signing was the start of years of more that I’ve attended and will write about in future posts. It’s become a bit of an obsession really but I love it and more importantly, I really love supporting local businesses like The Poisoned Pen and my other favorite, Changing Hands. Bookstores are getting killed off left and right because of Amazon so the more I can do my little part the better. And the reward of getting to see really amazing authors is worth the price of admission and then some.

P.S. This post is dedicated to my good friend, Raj, who recently accepted a marketing gig with The Poisoned Pen Press. I couldn’t be happier for him and can’t wait to see him at the next book signing/stalking on my calendar.

My daughter, Syd, will be 9 in March.  And as I always like to say, she’s 8 going on 28. She’s been coming home from school on the bus every day for months, letting herself in and starting her homework, before my husband gets home about 45 minutes later.

Because of this new-found after-school independence, we’ve let her stay home alone more and more, while we take short trips to the grocery store. We recently went to dinner at our neighborhood restaurant and she only called me every 20 minutes, telling me the latest with the dog and cats. The last call was that she was worried that one of our cats, Simon, had gotten out through the doggie door, never to return, since they’re not outside cats but have been venturing out with the new door.  She then saw him in the kitchen, while she was on the phone with me. Crisis averted.

On Friday we decided to see Star Wars on opening day because as fans it’s a given. We originally had only bought tickets for Saturday, not thinking we would take the day off. We asked her if she wanted to go with us and she passed. (Yes, she only wanted to see it once  – I’m working on flipping her to full nerd.) This was a big step though since we would be gone for a couple of hours. We figured my phone would blow up every 20 minutes like the time we went to dinner but only one text came through. Apparently the dog and cats were playing or in the case of the dog, it’s playing to him but to the cats they think he means it’s Fight Club. While they were playing, they broke this bin we have at the bottom of our staircase that we dump things in all day that need to go back upstairs each night. It’s an old bin so it was no big deal.

We then came home after the movie, wondering what we would walk in to, since there had been no more texts. I should also mention that Syd is also getting really good at cleaning up her accidents. She recently knocked a spice bottle off the shelf in the pantry and cleaned it up entirely with only a small sliver of glass by the trash can. She later fessed up. So we figured something similar would have occurred. We walked in the backdoor from our garage and she was right in the hallway, yelling at the dog and turns to us saying, “The fucking dog was eating the cat shit again and pulled it out of their box!” She was half crying but trying to hold back the tears, as she walked away from us with a big wad of paper towels to go get the cat shit from the living room that our dog, Alvin, had drug out. I told her I would go clean it up and she said “No, I’ve got it covered” and proceeded to clean up. We both tried not to laugh since she was being so serious but we couldn’t help it. (And yes, she does utter the occasional bad word because duh, she’s my kid.)

As parents it’s tough to figure out when it’s ok to leave your kids at home alone. In the back of my mind I always figured CPS would sense a disturbance in the force and show up at my door. And, I don’t remember when I started staying home alone but I imagine it was about the same age as Syd. I do however remember the first time my parents went out-of-town and left me to hold down the fort.

It was the first semester of my senior year of high school. I’d had my license for about 8 months so that meant I had complete independence since I was mobile. My parents decided to help out some of their best friends and neighbors who were moving to Montana. They would be gone a week.

I was a good kid so having a party didn’t cross my mind. I remember having my best friend over to hang out and that was it. But one of the first mornings was when the trouble came.

I never kept a house key with me or in my backpack. We had it as a hide-a-key in our garage, which I could easily access since we left a side door open. Yes, I’m sure that sounds crazy to you but when you live in a small town that has very little crime, you get some privileges like this.

One morning, I ran outside to our garage to get something, leaving our golden retriever lab mix, Scooter, inside by the kitchen table, eyeing the half-eaten cereal I’d left behind. For whatever reason, the day before, when I’d come home from school, I’d taken the hide-a-key inside with me and laid it on the kitchen table. I’d forgotten I’d done this.

As I came back from the garage, I went to try the backdoor and it was locked, with Scooter looking at me through the glass, sitting there patiently, waiting for me to come in. I ran back to the garage only to realize and remember that the damn key was in the house! I started to panic.

There was no way in the house. No other key. Nada. I would have to break a window or call a locksmith which I had no time for. I could see the key on the table and I jokingly said to Scooter through the door “Come on buddy, open the door.” He wagged his tail and licked the glass. Big help but he was no circus dog so he wasn’t going to figure out how to turn the door knob.

I decided to call my parents and tell them the bad news. They took it well and told me to call another neighbor friend to come help break a window. He came over to my rescue.

We walked around the kitchen nook, deciding on a window that would work, after trying a couple of others just to make sure none were unlatched and would slide open.  Then, before he was going to smash the window, he pushed on it a little, sliding it to the left and it opened! I guess I hadn’t latched it the night before when I had it open. We took the screen off and I crawled through, with Scooter happy to see me. I quickly called my parents back, telling them that the window gods were on my side and then I raced to school.

I’ll remember to tell Syd this story when we take our first big trip, leaving her in charge of the house. I’m fairly certain that Alvin will be no help to her like Scooter wasn’t for me. But, Alvin can do some circus-trick walking on his hind legs so who knows what he might be able to manage with doors.

I was born in January 1978, about 9 months after Star Wars: Episode IV first hit theaters.

Empire Strikes came out in June 1980.  I remember my mom taking me to see it, and I think they re-released Episode IV so people could relive the awesomeness again or see it for the first time before the new movie, which was what we did.

We were still living in San Bernardino at the time. We had a couple of theater choices.  Some of the bigger blockbusters played at the “mall theater” as I referred to it versus the little twin theater we typically frequented that played double features of new Disney movies. We spent a lot of time there as you can imagine but ventured to the other part of town to see movies like E.T., The Goonies and in this case, Star Wars.

Even at a really young age, I was hooked on this series. It really was like nothing I had seen before. What kid wouldn’t love a big hairy Wookie, a shiny gold robot, a little trash can looking robot, a green chunky alien, and lightsabers.

I remember for Christmas that year my letter to Santa included mostly Star Wars toys, with the Storm Trooper gun that literally went “pew pew”. It was likely the coolest thing ever. (Sidenote: During our recent trip to Disneyland, found this pin and a shirt that matched it.) Santa came through and I ran around the house shooting everything. My mom and dad were probably really happy when the batteries started to run down and the “pew pew” was fainter. It’s been almost 38 years of loving Star Wars since that first Christmas and my collection of swag has grown pretty radically.

Seeing Star Wars: The Force Awakens reminded me of that day my mom and I saw Empire. It was that nostalgic and true to the original movies.  I cried like a baby. I cheered and clapped like the rest of the theater. It was ridiculously good. And, it made me love JJ Abrams that much more. He honored the “nerdom” that is Star Wars, especially when all the critics hypothesized that by the franchise selling out to Disney it would be a laughing-stock. Well, they’re laughing all the way to the bank.

I’m headed back for Round 2 and I likely will see it even more before it leaves the theater. I already saw a countdown on Facebook that it was 524 days until the next movie. It can’t come soon enough.

I was never a big fan of Barbies. Shocking I’m sure. I liked a lot of “boy” toys. I had Transformers, Hot Wheels and action figures. I had this great Jeep that my action figures drove.  My dad had a Jeep so it was like my very own version that I could play with in our living room.

Then, during a summer BBQ, I played with a new friend and she showed me her “Mowboo Barbie” a.k.a. Malibu Barbie.  I must have been about three years old.  And I thought this toy was the toy to end all toys.  I had to have it.

I spent the next few days after the BBQ repeating “Mowboo Barbie” like a crazed parrot. My parents tried to decode what I was trying to say. They finally took me to Toys “R” Us and we walked the aisles.  It was then that I spotted and pointed out the Malibu Barbie on a shelf. My parents sighed and repeated the real name to me. “Oh, Malibu Barbie!” I shook my head, agreeing with them and  smiling from ear to ear. They bought me my new prized toy and we headed home.

For the next week, Mowboo Barbie went everywhere with me, including the front basket on my bike. She rode along with her hair flowing in the wind, as I did donuts in our driveway in front of our garage.

Then, my dog ruined it all.

I was an only child so my pets were my siblings. I loved my big yellow lab, Jake, so much, just like a brother.  He attended tea parties, played hide and seek, dressed up – you name it, that dog would do whatever I wanted.  He loved being included. And he was never destructive.  Until that day.

I think Mowboo Barbie’s hair, dangling from the bike basket, was just more than Jake could handle. As I made a final donut in the driveway, Jake ran up and grabbed Mowboo by her hair from the basket and ran. I yelled and ran after him.  But it was too late.  I picked up Mowboo from the ground, where he’d dropped her, and I noticed it. He had punctured her chest.  Her Mowboo boobies were busted.  Big teeth marks right through her bikini top and into them. My mom came out of the house and found me with tears running  down my face, holding Mowboo in my lap.

“Oh, babe, Jakey wouldn’t have meant to do that. You know he’s never been mean to your toys.  He just thought it was one of his,” she said.  I shook my head, knowing that was probably right, but still pissed.  I glared over at Jake, who sat away from us, knowing he’d been bad.  My mom called to him and walked him to our backyard, and closed the gate. He jumped up on the gate in his usual way, panting and smiling over at me. I just glared. My brother had betrayed me and ruined my favorite toy.

I waited for my mom to go back inside the house and then I made my move.

I snuck back to the gate, knowing he would jump up to greet me as he usually did. He did exactly that and then I leaned in for the kill.  I gave him a big bite right on his nose.  He yelped and ran.  I turned around and started walking back to the front yard, smiling a devilish grin, satisfied with my revenge. Jake jumped back up on the gate, smiling and panting as always, already having forgotten that I’d given him a bite on the nose.  He was that loyal. Nothing phased him. I thought better of what I had just done, since I wasn’t the type of kid to burn ants or torture cats. I sighed and turned around and went back to give him a big kiss and a rub on the head.

“It’s ok, Jakey, I know you didn’t mean it,” I said to him. He gave me a big gooey lick and I giggled. I left him in the backyard a little longer and collected myself, still sad about Mowboo. But she wasn’t completely ruined.  She just had some additional personality now.

Jake never bothered another one of my toys. I also never got another Barbie.  Mowboo was the one and only and maybe for good reason. I stuck with toys that could take a beating and were dog-friendly. There were a few with similar hair but I smartened up and kept them out of the bike basket and away from temptation. It was just better that way.