Camilla: You, sir, should unmask.
Stranger: Indeed?
Cassilda: Indeed, it's time. We all have laid aside disguise but you.
Stranger: I wear no mask.
Camilla: (Terrified, aside to Cassilda.) No mask? No mask!

The King in Yellow (Act II, Scene ii)

Regnat non regitur qui nihil nisi quod vult facit

Commemoration of Saint Placid
Seattle

Off to Vancouver BC until Friday. Sadly, it's for work and not pleasure so much.

Toodles!

Feast of Saint Peter Chrysologus, bishop & Doctor of the Church
Sounder Train, somewhere near Auburn, Washington

Dear friends,

Thank you for your support. I have been truly overwhelmed by the kindness and love shown to me and to my family in the past days.

Your thoughts and your prayers have been a source of solace and comfort in this impossible time.

I would like to especially thank those of you who made it to Tristan's sentencing yesterday. For those of you unable to attend, the normally negligent News Tribune did a good job at sensitively painting the scene.

( The News Tribune Story )

What the article does not say is that, while the sentence was "at the high end of the standard range" it was, in fact, the high end of a lesser charge to which Tristan ended up pleading guilty, contrary to previous reports.

In closing, dear, dear, friends would like to share with you a passage from today's Office of Readings from a sermon by Saint Peter Chrysologus that struck me this morning:

Why then, man, are you so worthless in your own eyes and yet so precious to God? Why render yourself such dishonour when you are honoured by him? Why do you ask how you were created and do not seek to know why you were made? Was not this entire visible universe made for your dwelling? It was for you that the light dispelled the overshadowing gloom....

The earth was adorned with flowers, groves and fruit; and the constant marvellous variety of lovely living things was created in the air, the fields, and the seas for you, lest sad solitude destroy the joy of God’s new creation. And the Creator still works to devise things that can add to your glory. He has made you in his image that you might in your person make the invisible Creator present on earth....

The entire sermon is worth reading, but this was the part that particularly struck me today.

It is a glorious world out there, created for our delight. While we some days do our level best to ruin it, to make the world a place of terror and filth and hatred, it is in the end a beautiful, wonderful world, and we should make the time to notice it every day.

So go out there and spread some joy.

Commemoration of the seven Holy Sleepers of Ephesus
Tacoma

Dearest Reader,

Saturday was spent at Tacoma's Ethnic Fest, an excuse for sampling foods from restaurants previously unknown and browsing through merchant kiosks of cultures entirely unfamiliar.

The weather has been beastly hot, though the nights have been cooling off. This is, no doubt, due to the angel of hot night time weather deciding he couldn't stand up to singingbarista's suggestions for defeating him; so he just threw in the towel.

Sunday was a surprise party for our pastor, Fr. Carmine Sacco, SJ. He was celebrating his 65th anniversary of becoming a Jesuit. No, that number is not a typo. He's baptising the grandchildren of people he baptised...

Sunday evening was a rousing splatter of Call of Cthulhu, just so Tristan would have one last game before his sentencing on Wednesday. Thanks to chordam7 for running the game and to Robin and Corey for hosting. And! most especially to sulky_girl and Robin for transportation to and from Olympia.

I took this morning off work for a last meeting with Tristan's attorney, followed by some time with Tristan to work on his statement to the court, should that be warranted. The words are his, though I did help by asking him questions and getting his thoughts put in order. Although what we wrote was very short, he could not read it aloud without tears.

Whether or not he actually reads it in court is up to his attorney.

I also wrote a statement for the court, which will be entered into the record during sentencing. I made Tristan's attorney cry.

( Statement of Thom Ryng in support of Tristan Ryng, his son )

I had planned to go into work after the meeting, but after speaking with Tristan's attorney I decided to call in. After sitting down with Tristan, I'm a bit shattered, so this was clearly a good decision.

Blathering just a bit now, dear reader, but I hope that you will forgive me. I'm good for very little else today.

Tristan's sentencing is on Wednesday at 3:00 PM at the Pierce County courthouse in Tacoma. It will be a melancholy affair, but please, if you wish to come out and support Tristan, please come down.

Solemnity of Mary, Mother of God
Pistachio House, Tacoma

Gentle Reader,

Francine being ill and confined to the couch, last night's festivities were muted. There was champagne and cheesecake and midnight kisses, but the majority of the evening's revels consisted of rambling about Pistachio House and vaguely listening to the television.

We are clearly the exciting, dangerous people your parents warned you about.

Speaking of parents, mine visited last week, the first time they'd spent Christmas with us. They flew in from Chicago on the 24th, and their flight was only delayed three hours. It was great that they were here, and it was wonderful that they were able to visit Tristan in the hospital.

Tristan is gaunt, but mostly in good spirits. As the nerves in his reconstructed right ankle knit together, he has experienced some excruciating shooting pains. It's difficult to be there for that, but I rather imagine he's having a rougher time of it than we are.

( a photo )

The snow of the last few weeks made it rough to get around - the local municipal authority snow contingency plan seems to consist largely of hoping it melts quickly. After two weeks, warmer weather has now come, and Tacoma (at least) is back to cool weather and rain, our winter norm.

The rain forced us to beg a ride to Mass this morning, but it's now given way to blustery winds and cold. I believe I shall stay in the rest of the day, drink coffee, and perhaps write.

Again, clearly exciting and dangerous. Beware!

I wish you, dear reader, the very best of the new year, and may the blessings of God come upon you and your house.

I've been trying to write this post for two days.

On Saturday, we went to the Sinfonietta through the magic of free tickets.

Francine and I were enjoying a lazy Saturday afternoon, and the day sort of got away from us. We completely lost track of the time until Mel called us to ask where we were.

It was 7:00, time to pick up the tickets, and were were still lounging around! Fortunately, we only live up the hill from the Rialto, so we were able to get there in short order.

We parked in the lot down the block and across the street. I sent Francine on ahead to meet up with Mel and James and the tickets while I mucked with the new auto-pay machine.

Back in the day, you entered the number of the space you were parked in and threw in some bills and you were good to go. The new system involves a printed ticket to put on the dashboard. I took the ticket and hesitated - they were waiting for me and I was running late. What were the odds that the car would get cited?

Was the chance worth the thirty seconds I'd lose? I decided not. I ran to the car, slapped the ticket on the dash, and ran back to the intersection to cross Ninth and Market Streets. There were knots of pedestrians crossing Market on both sides of Ninth, heading for the Rialto. There were even four of Tacoma's bicycle cops standing around, vaguely looking like they were supposed to be crossing guards.

As I started to cross Market, I saw a white pickup truck racing up Ninth, towards me. Without signaling or slowing, it turned left onto Market, across Ninth from me.

Pedestrians scattered and flew through the air like pins in a bowling lane. At least one of them thumped onto the hood of the pickup as it sped through.

The cops ran forward like they'd rehearsed it: three to injured pedestrians, one to the middle of the street to peer after the pickup. I assume he was getting the license number.

People were screaming.

I ran to the nearest group. A cop was already there, administering first aid.

The man had a neatly trimmed grey beard and short, white hair. He was twisted under and over a young blonde woman. His head was surrounded by a growing puddle of blood, a shocking scarlet against the grey asphalt and his brown topcoat. His hat - a brown Pendleton with what looked like a pheasant feather, was crushed nearby.

He was still wearing his glasses.

He lifted his head, and he kept asking, "Where's my wife? Is my wife all right?" The officer asked him questions as he applied pressure to the injury, but he ignored them. "Is my wife all right?"

The younger woman tangled around him told the officer she was fine, and she tried to talk to the older man. He ignored her. Clearly not the wife.

I looked about twenty feet up the street, where an older woman lay, unmoving, with an officer kneeling beside her.

A hysterical woman, screaming, across the street was being comforted by another, younger woman.

Somebody had already called 911. One of the officers was also on his radio.

Standing there in the middle of Market Street, I felt utterly helpless, unable to help.

Perhaps one of the Sinfonietta patrons was a doctor? I ran for the Rialto.

Somebody beat me to it. An EMT and a nurse were identifying themselves in the ticket line to another bystander. They were on their way before I had even caught my breath.

So I went to the Sinfonietta and told Francine and Mel and James about the incident.

And right then I realized for the first time that had I not run back to put the ticket on the dashboard, I would have been in that intersection when the pickup truck had run through it.

Something inside me shifted at that moment, and I've not quite come to grips with it. It's not survivor's guilt - nobody died and I certainly don't feel guilty.

But every time I look at someone, there's this profound feeling of "you could die in an instant - hell, you're probably already dead - and everything you are and were will be gone". I'm sure there's a single word for that in some language. Probably German.

It's hard to take anyone so terribly seriously, and yet there's also this awesome sense of individual importance in the sense that this person is a unique and fragile treasure in the world. And in these islands of individuality, I feel utterly unconnected and adrift.

Does that make any sense?

I passed the site today. It was raining hard, and the black stains on the street were melting at the edges and joining the muddy rivulets running down the hill to the sea.

The local paper's version

I've been trying to write this post for two days. I'm not convinced I've succeeded.

I have been unemployed now since All Saints Day, November 1. My state unemployment claim has been denied, so as of this moment I have officially zero income.

OK, that's not quite true. I've been doing some odd publishing and layout contracts, but this is not going to pay the mortgage. Or the wedding.

So I've been going to Tulley's every morning, just to keep a steady routine. They've got a conference room with a great view of the Tacoma streets that I'm using as my own private looking for work office.

I've also been doing a lot of work on Cruenti Dei. I seriously underestimated the amount of work these maps would be. I've got two more difficult ones to do, and then a handful of easy ones, similar to the sample posted.

Come hell or high water, the rule book is going to the printers on Saturday.

For your pleasure, some links to make your day shine.

Lovecraft computer games

Adopt a penguin

Steampunk Dalek

The Castaigne Collection

... and therefore I believe the President and Vice President of the United States must be impeached.

Although they were removed from the calendar, they remain saints. I intend to celebrate in the traditional manner - by purchasing a new pair of shoes.

If we are mark'd to die, we are enow
To do our country loss; and if to live,
The fewer men, the greater share of honour.( Read more... )

(Whatever is said in Latin sounds profound)

Two people have now asked me about the use of Latin on my journal.

Since that's a sizable percentage of the readership (possibly half), I thought I'd better address it. Here several reasons. Take your pick.

• I'm a mediævalist. I like old things.
• I'm a Roman Catholic. It's our language, even if we don't use it much.
• I love the sound and elegance of the language.
• Did I mention I like old things?
• I am, in fact, a pretentious git.

Is there anything finer on a blustery day than a cup of tea and a good book?

It has been a trying week. On Thursday, I gave a presentation to the Pierce Deanery Principals for which I had been preparing nearly a month. It was just a bit stressful, as Principals are taught in Principal school the fine art of the stony, blank expression.

Only one of them actually engaged, and I later discovered that he wasn't a Principal at all. He was, in fact, assistant superintendent of Catholic schools for the archdiocese. I can't venture an opinion on the Principals, but this fellow was convinced.

To relieve a bit of pent-up stress, I took Friday off and worked on Cruenti Dei. This is not nearly so decadent as it sounds, as I'm only actually paid for 30 hours a week, and I'd passed that mark on Wednesday evening.

The (final) rules draft for Cruenti Dei is done. Now I'm waiting for some illustrations and working on the maps. Stat sheets are next. I'm most emphatically not looking forward to doing those. I'm also studying up on the Little Ice Age. Tremble!

After receiving several earnest inquiries from people (chiefly my relatives) about wedding registries and such, I've added a Paypal button on the right hand side of this journal. There's really nothing we need, of course, but this gives those who wish to give us a gift an opportunity to do so.

(Parenthetically, it also makes it slightly more unlikely that we'll end up with nine mis-matched candlesticks.)

Wedding planning and preparation continues apace. Many details were sorted out last Saturday, and I'm extremely grateful to those who attended. I actually feel like this is going to come off, now. Invites are at the printer, and the various committees have set down to their work. My list, finally, looks manageable.

Yesterday I attended an LMI class at the chancery in Seattle. More on this program and my ongoing formation soon. But not today. The classes are, by and large, utterly fascinating. Reminds me, I need to get some homework done.

In the evening, Francine and I had dinner with Fr. Bryan at Paddy Coyne's downtown. It's the closest thing Tacoma has to a proper pub, since E-9 lost its soul.

I can't go to Paddy Coynes without being reminded of Droyne, for reasons obvious perhaps to several old Traveller hands here.

Somehow, I missed reading Gaiman's "A Study in Emerald" until just yesterday. Ah, what a fool I've been.

Quote of the day: "The very powerful and the very stupid have one thing in common: instead of altering their views to fit the facts, they alter the facts to fit their views, which can be very uncomfortable if you happen to be one of the facts that need altering." (Doctor Who - who can tell me the episode?)

First, your meme of the day, courtesy of literary_equine :


Am-I-Dumb.com - Intelligence Test

That's 24 out of 25 correct. I wonder which question I got wrong?

We'll move on now to the geeky Church news portion of today's entertainment. Never mind Catholic / Orthodox rapprochement (a thousand years of schism can't be wrong!), it seems the Russians are upset with Constantinople (that's Istanbul, for you young Turks out there). I blame Estonia. If they'd only converted to Unitarianism, none of this would have happened.

And as I've long suspected, the Pope really is crazy like a fox. I won't bore you with his other chess moves (they're mostly liturgical), but for those who thought this would be a transitional Papacy, Benedict is increasingly making Pope John Paul II look like he was the transition.

And when did BBC stop capitalizing God?

On a more personal note, my schedule has really screwed up my praying of the Hours. I'm trying to fix that, but it's been a struggle.

Meanwhile, wedding plans are the chaos that wedding plans apparently always are. Still, we've finally got another planning session put together, so that's a good thing.

My plans for continued employment with Catholic schools in Tacoma is collapsing like a startled soufflé.

Plan A is proving a difficult sell - a month I've been on-and-off working on a presentation to the Principals and Pastors, and it only started coming together yesterday in any meaningful way. Trouble is, the plan only makes financial sense if you assume that the goal is to (eventually) open several more schools. It's rather difficult to get these folks to that view, when their paradigm is built on "can we afford to stay open for another year?"

The demographics support twelve or more schools where we currently have seven, but I don't think I can get them to look that far ahead.

Plan B is increasingly looking unlikely. The Archdiocese just hasn't budgeted for the position I'd fill.

Plan C involves sending out résumés. This, I started yesterday. Looks like Frank Russell is looking for a FrameMaker guru. Why not?

Oh, and my laptop finally died. There went my savings account.

Cruenti Dei continues to stumble on towards the starting line. I'm very pleased with amphigori's illustrations. I still haven't seen anything from badhairs , which doesn't surprise me given his life situation, nor from starkad67 , which is quite worrying.

I'm still trying to get up to speed on Campaign Cartographer 2 - I'm was hoping to have these maps done pretty quickly, but it's proving more difficult than I thought. I may have to go with hand-drawn maps. Not my first choice, but I'm trying to work to deadline, here.

I did get the Preview PDF put together, complete with a couple of illustrations and a silly little sketch map. amphigori's Wenemet sketch makes the whole thing worth downloading, though for the final masterpiece, you'll have to purchase the rulebook when it's available.

Speaking of which, the rulebook is pretty much done, except for the tables and the illustration inserts. So that's something.

Did I mention I've been really busy?

I've also not been sleeping very well for the last few weeks, something that I seem to share with a number of people on my friendslist. I suspect that R'lyeh may be poking its wee head above the waves. I've also been having quite the surreal nightmares. Interestingly, I've not been to Carcosa in a while.

TTFN!

Cross-posted from all and sundry.

( Read more... )

In other news, my iBook appears to be slowly dying. The monitor is starting to flicker, and the 3, e, and d keys aren't working. This is not quite as horrible as it sounds, as I have a plug-in keyboard, but it is kind of annoying when I'm on the go.

Comes from dropping it one too many times, I suspect. Laptops should come covered in shock-resistant foam.

So at some point, I'm going to have to hoof it down to the Apple store for the 500,000-keystroke tune-up.

Wedding paperwork continues to roll-in. Fun!

Oh, and thanks to the Archdiocese's arcane contracting system and multiply dysfunctional layers of bureaucracy, I still haven't been paid for August. On the other hand, the folks for whom I'm actually working are doing their darndest to get me paid. On the third hand, the might of mere mortals is insufficient to overcome bean-counter juju.

The fourth hand, as we know, is the dummy.

(... and therefore I believe the President and Vice President of the United States must be impeached.)

This is my first weekend since July 21, and I think I might actually be starting to relax.

I just posted the latest progress report to the Cruenti Dei forum. Work is humming along!

Today's plan is more work on CD, a nice long walk, some quick edits on a book project, cleaning up the kitchen, perhaps some weed-whacking in the front.

I think Francine might go grocery shopping.

Ah, the bucolic life!

Tomorrow, we've got to tackle some wedding projects. And laundry.

I'd like to share something I read recently:

In King Lear (III:vii) there is a man who is such a minor character that Shakespeare has not given him even a name: he is merely "First Servant." All the characters around him -- Regan, Cornwall, and Edmund -- have fine long-term plans. They think they know how the story is going to end, and they are quite wrong. The servant has no such delusions. He has no notion how the play is going to go. But he understands the present scene. He sees an abomination (the blinding of old Gloucester) taking place. He will not stand it. His sword is out and pointed at his master's breast in a moment: then Regan stabs him dead from behind. That is his whole part: eight lines all told. But if it were real life and not a play, that is the part it would be best to have acted. (C.S. Lewis, "The World's Last Night")

I've been ruminating over this for a couple of days now, and the idea appeals to me as a framing device for a story of this servant's life. Of course, if you buy the argument that Shakespeare was an underground Catholic, the life and death of the "First Servant" takes on a whole other light.

(... and therefore I believe the President and Vice President of the United States must be impeached.)

If I liked this kind of heat, I never would have left Tucson.

Couldn't sleep much last night.

Stayed home today to job hunt and putter about the house.

Today is the Feast of Saint Benedict.

The heat has, I'm convinced, sapped so much out of me that I'm starting to lose hours.

Did I do anything worthwhile today?

Is melting worthwhile?

Fans just stir the heat.

(... and therefore I believe the President and Vice President of the United States must be impeached.)

The madness that is the second-to-last week of school, with its graduations and field day gyrations, has given way to the collapsing soufflé that is the last week of school.

I'm feeling much better about life in general, and the stress level has noticeably dropped. It hasn't quite dropped to the Summer Holiday level, but it's hovering right near the Now, What I Was Supposed to be Doing? level.

Some time in the next month, I rather suspect it will be at the Sangrias on the Patio level, a state of affairs to which I look forward with no little anticipation.

The weekend was gardening in the rain, followed by gardening in the sunshine. The fig has been joined by an olive. In between, there were Irish (sic) pubs and gawdawful fish and chips at a place that should probably stick with pizza.

I don't think I mentioned it earlier, but I built fully half of Piazza della Pistachio on Memorial Day, just so we would have some place to put the grill.

Today is my last day of staying late at work.

Spent the last week up in Forks crashing at Chez gaelfarce, completely incommunicado.

So the thing about Forks is that it's tiny, their only decent breakfast place has a giant elk head laying about, and the whole place has a sort of Twin Peaks vibe.

Seriously. gaelfarce lives on Lupine Ave., just down the block from "Elterich" Street - a street which does not appear on the Googlemap of town.

After spending all day Monday on the bus, I wrote about 100 pages during the week, which is crazy productive for me. I don't have a word count yet, because I have yet to actually type them.

I do, however, have a blister over the writing callus on my middle finger.

On Saturday, pi_radical very sweetly drove us to Tacoma, where a barbecue was held in the land of the singingbarrista.

Sunday after Mass, jaynefury and I gardened. Huzzah!

Today I...

• Went to 9:00 Mass at St. Patrick's with Francine
• Stayed at church for about an hour, talking with friends. One of them is pregnant, which is just joyous.
• Put (yet another) coat of primer on the two bedside dressers
• Prayed
• Swung on the porch swing awhile in thought
• Dug in the garden for most of the afternoon (though it still looks like the surface of the Moon)
• Showered
• Did laundry
• Read a little

Now I shall go for a walk.

This evening perhaps I shall read some more.

Quite the exciting life, I know.

Yesterday, I watched our Junior High basketball team wallop All Saints, picked up a few little somethings at Half Price Books, and wandered about Tacoma looking for a place to write. And then I wrote.

Well, "Klara" is out the door again, this time to Glimmer Train.

As I told someone recently, she's got more rejections than the Titanic has ice cubes. Now that I've got an agent telling me she does not suck ostrich eggs through straws, I'm a little more enthused about sending her out again.

I did a couple of minor edits that I think strengthen the villain Svejk a little and give a little more atmosphere to the Clock interior. We shall see.

Last night Francine and I had the perfect Geek Date™. After fish and chips at a new place on St. Helens, we talked writing and gardening at Doyle's, and finished the evening next door at King's Books* for an execrable poetry reading and to browse. I know Patrick, the owner, and we chatted a bit about writing and the latest news.

Francine today is off to get one of the kittens to the vet for a checkup and to schedule a spaying. Then she's heading to Kent to hang out with some knitting buddies.

I, on the other hand, am going to All Saints in Puyallup to our Junior High's last basketball game of the season. They're (miraculously) 4-2 right now, and I feel like I should see one of their games.

Afterwards, I will find a lovely café and write.

Now for the shower.

---

* The sign is yellow. I am not making this up.

I came to work yesterday, though once again there was no school due to ice on the ground. Growing up in Chicago, where an overnight foot of snow wasn't enough to close my high school, I am consistently amazed at how little winter is required to shut down western Washington.

There was no heat in the building. By noon, I was shivering so hard that it was difficult to work with Adobe InDesign - the mouse was just shaking all over the place. My Principal, the only other person working in the building, took me to lunch. We didn't get back until about 4:00PM. Fortunately, I'd e-mailed the advertisement to the newspaper before we left.

This morning, it snowed again. Initially, we were going to open two hours late. I got the cancellation call when I was already on my way to work. Today, though it was just me and the janitor, at least the building was heated. I updated the web site and worked on some more details for Catholic Schools Week - I'm assuming that we won't get another Ice Age between now and then.

The bus slid all over the road on the way here, so I stuck it out until midafternoon in hopes that it would get a little warmer. This strategy was only marginally successful. Home now, and desperately trying to warm up. Hmmm. Perhaps some tea...

In one bit of spectacularly good news, Senator Barack Obama has formed a Presidential Exploratory Committee. This can only be good for the state and level of discourse in this country. It's 1968 all over again (hopefully sans assassination this time).

Thanks be to God for his wonderful creation and all of the creatures in it.

I am thankful for my hearth and home, for my lack of want, and for the friends and family which fill my life with joy and consternation in their turn.

A happy Thanksgiving to all!

(And for those of you across the pond, raise a pint for all the blessings in your life. Failing that, you can't go very wrong in simply raising a pint!)

Oh, and for those needing a smile, check out Thanksgiving Day holidays gone awry!

cheers to bibliovixen

Three day weekend, starting today. Unsurprisingly, I'm mostly unpacking and cleaning and just generally puttering about the place. It's quite nice, actually.

We just returned from the fabulous three day wedding extravaganza of joyful_storm and samildanach, where much food and drink and laughter and geekery were in evidence. Entirely too many details to sort out just at the moment, but I have made several friends and renewed some fond acquaintances. More later. Hopefully.

I am, frankly, pretty darn tired. It was great coming back to our house. Less great, however, was seeing all the work that must be done.

A rather nice surprise awaited me, however, in the form of an mp3 file of the strings part of "Unspeakable Beauty". For those of you (and I know you're out there) who are relatively new to this journal, chordam7 and I have been working on a Cthulhian opera for several years now. It just got another small step closer to completion.

I called in sick today because my body is in PAIN. I mean, my toes hurt.

Spent some time yesterday packing and getting more boxes. I think we might be OK in the cardboard container area for awhile.

Dragonboating in the morning for a couple of hours. I am very sore today.

In the evening, we went over to Stacey & Matt's bungalow-in-progress. Francine and Stacey made pizzas, a process which Matt and I largely avoided, other than one foray into the construction of a so-called "Meat lover's" pizza, which ended up having very little on it that actually qualified as meat.

Matt and I spent some time talking about what they've done to their bungalow, and what we're going to do to Pisachio House. His advice? "Start small if you can, get help, and borrow tools."

"Start small" indeed - this from a guy who refinished their floors before they moved in, and is currently in a year-long process of completely redoing their kitchen.

Later, we attempted to watch Thérèse, which was so truly awful that I fell asleep before it finished. Why, oh why can't somebody made a film about a saint that isn't either ridiculous or boring?

Today, we're heading down to the Abbey for Oblate Sunday. Then back to pack some more. Just at the moment, our flat is a wreck.

I will enjoy having moved, it's the process of moving I don't care for.

Odd dreams last night. Short story there, I believe.

I love my parents. Sure, we've had our disagreements (that was the early 90's, I think), but they've always been behind me, and they've always supported me, even if in my youth I didn't always agree with their methods.

When The King in Yellow premiered, my Mom sent me a yellow bouquet. I still have the funny little bee mug that came with. When The Resurrectionist (as awful as it was) premiered at the H.P. Lovecraft Film Festival, somehow my Mom and my Sister were there to see it.

They've been a rock for me, and they still are.