Dear Pensacola: A Love Letter


Dear Pensacola,

My nerves are about to drive me crazy as I prepare to meet you for the first time. I hope you are just as excited as I am! These feelings, those that promises of sun & sand stir up, are something I haven’t experienced for a long time but… you have changed that. You’ve changed me.

It is my hope that you don’t mistake this overflow of excitement for vocalized, unrealistic expectations. As wonderful as a perfect and picturesque weekend would be… our brief time together means more to me than you could ever imagine and more than overcast skies and rain could ever stifle.

So, please, don’t feel the need to impress me. You already have. You are what I need right now. Without the sun, the sand will mean just as much.

“What is it that I am anticipating then?”, I’m sure you’re wondering. But I assure you there is no timeline or schedule that needs to be planned and strung along during our special time together. With you I feel there will be no boredom, no voids or slots to be filled… I’m sure you think I’m just putting you up on a pedastol but… this is just the truth.

All the little things. That’s what I yearn for. They are what I need.

I need sunsets with you and even more importantly I need sunrises with you. I need to wage a war with this thing they call sleep deprivation and prove that you, my Helen of Troy, are worth every yawn and dark circle that force themselves upon my face. I need to permanently imprint the tastes of you upon my mind so I will always have our time to revisit. I need to forget this simple world that I’m leaving behind and just let time stand still while I embrace everything that you are.

While it seems somewhat impossible that you would feel even remotely as deeply about me as I do for you… I hope that you will wait for me patiently and at least allow a small smirk from your lips when you think of me.

Soon, my love, we will have each other.



Only The Gods Are Real.


My newest obession isn’t new at all – only new to me. It’s actually an over-a-decade old obession for some.

Let me pause to say: I read a book.

This is a big thing for me. As a child I took part in a competitive reading program. Accelerated Reader. I mean… it worked. Prizes were awarded but I did also enjoy reading and did a lot of it for a 10 year old but by the end of fifth grade I was done reading. Suddenly, reading became painful to me. The last book I remember that I chose to read, completed and retained it’s information was ‘Dracula’ and it still remains my favorite book.

Well… maybe.

So here I am, some 10+ years later, and I’m finding it a necessary comfort to tote a book around with me where ever I scurry.
This entry in The Misterhood of the Traveling Pizza isn’t just about a book though. No, this is something much larger.

I am so thankful a handsome, tall and cheerful fellow waltzed into work one day with a passion for the imaginary and a path to set me on. This soulmate-esque coworker spoke often of what I believe is his favorite author and highly suggested the best seller “American Gods”. Sure, it took me a couple years but, I’m finally wading into the waters that cause one to fall madly in love with Neil Gaiman.
The moment I sat in that silent gym and first opened the crisp pages of my newly purchased book… I knew it was for me. The tone, the characters, the subject matter, the pop culture references. They all made it seem like this book was written just for me.

Suggesting it to others is a new hobby of mine. “American Gods” is a novel about a man, imprisoned, who gets out a little early due the death of his beloved wife. He’s made some poor choices but he’s soon to find out so have other people in his life. On his way to her wake he comes across a strange man who wants to hire him for odd jobs and… security? Our main character is then thrown into this world that exists without our knowledge and yet stands nexts to us in day to day life.

As we all immigrated to America we brought our culture, our lore, our gods. They took root in America as we created what we now call ‘the metling pot’. Times change though and today our greedy society is taking power from the old gods and new ones have been created. Technology, media, money – all the things we give unlimited power to today.

Without giving away too much I can say our main character ‘Shadow’ gets to explore these gods, this… other world (so to speak) and gets caught in the cross fire of that tale as old as time where the past fights the future. Now that I’ve completed the tenth anniversary edition of ‘American Gods’ I can definitely see why it was an international best seller.
What made me finally go out and buy it was the fact that Starz had created a television series of it that was soon to air. Having given up on reading, I’m normally one of those usual suspects who hasn’t read the books that television series are based on. This time was going to be different. With a trustworthy recommendation and content that closely related to my interests, I felt an urgent need to complete this book before it made its way to my t.v. screen.

That’s what else this entry is about. My obsession doesn’t end with “The End”. Watching both trailers for the upcoming series has become a daily religious practice of mine. You can watch it at the link below. Or go back to my Facebook page where I will post it immediately after this.

[American Gods: Season 1 Trailer]
Neil Gaiman himself approves of Starz’s creation and the cast has me giddy like a school child. Now, I know our main character ‘Shadow’ from Keri Russell’s “Austenland” where he played a horribly over the top soap opera actor but from what I’ve seen it doesn’t seem like serious, stoic characters are absent from his wheel house. You’ll know the others though:

Ian McShane
Emily Browning
Kristin Chenoweth
Gillian Anderson
Orlando Jones
Crispin Glover
Cloris Leachman
Dane Cook

and… wait for it… Pablo Schreiber aka Pornstache from “Orange Is The New Black”.

As you watch the trailers and read the novel you get unspoken promises of blood, sex, mythology and sheer epicness. But.. maybe you don’t want to commit to reading it though because the show is just a month way.

Well you’re in luck! The first season is said to cover a third of the book with episodes giving you backstory not found in the text. Watch the 8 episodes… if it tickles your fancy… read the book. You can find cheap copies on Amazon or even get the audiobook free with Audible’s 30 day trial. I bought the $20 tenth anniversary edition at B&N and then found a Neil Gaiman double feature hardback for $25 that I added to my collection. This one is a good idea because you get Anansi Boys as well, which tells the tale of another character.

If you’re just interested in the show though I will leave you with this nifty chart Neil Gaiman shared himself. Starz obviously isn’t known for it’s AMAZING shows like HBO or Showtime so they want everyone to know their options. Thank the gods for Amazon Prime!

Stretching My Fingers


​Something I felt to let out of my fingertips today while at work. Just needed to stretch my fingers a bit. I didn’t really proof read or anything. It’s all just for fun.

Her eyes, nearly blinded by swollen tears, carefully crept above the seat. It was dark and there was a parade of headlights behind her. These low-beams, they swayed and twinkled like Christmas lights in a soft, winter wind. Somehow, a peaceful feeling lingered above the highway but she knew. Somewhere. He was there. Among the shadows and the neverending trail of headlights, she could feel it. His presence.

A throat cleared in the front of the car and caused one fearful tear to lose it’s grip and fall to her cheek. She wiped it from her face by brushing her skin along the stale fabric of the backseat before peering over her shoulder at two shadowy figures whose features were only minorly luminated by the dashboard.

“You’re safe now, ” the man in the passenger seat spoke to the rearview mirror. His voice was strange but calm. Almost reassuring. “You should rest”

She didn’t speak. Instead, she turned once again to the back windshield and stared silently.

“Don’t worry,” another voice instructed, this time a woman – the driver. Her voice was less reassuring than the man’s but the two seemed in agreeance that everything was going to be alright.

With quiet breaths she allowed herself one last look at the sea of cars before slowly lowering her body down into the seat and turning to watch the backs of the two in front. But still she knew – he was there. She felt it. Her heart raced and, attempting to soothe it, she slid one arm under her head to act as a pillow and the other she allowed to fall to the floorboard. Tracing symbols in the gristle with closed eyes slowly began to ease her mind. What must have been receipts and spare change bumped into her index finger as she wrote familiar words. With each letter or loop or figure she found new ways to breathe and convince herself the worst was over and it worked.

The others must have began to notice as the backseat fell still and silent. Their words, though sparse, were respectful of her sleep-like state. Her hand no longer traced through dirt and knickels. Steady was her heart. Soft were their words. Silent breaths escaped her open mouth.

Still respectful and hushed the man spoke.

“We have to hurry.”

The lady reassured him with a more silent whisper.

“She’ll die soon enough. We’re almost there”