If I can get some free time soon, I’ll summarize in one of the infamous Random Bullet Lists™.

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From the 7 Words to his stint on Thomas the Tank Engine, this man never ceased to amaze me. I felt like I was getting away with something during the brief times that I was allowed to watch his stand-up when I was younger.

Pretty much, his wikipedia entry covers everything that I remember and more.

You’ll be missed, and I hope that you’re now up on the roof just like you thought you’d be.

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Seriously, what in the hell is wrong with us? What happened to the old axiom that I heard far too many times as a kid of “Let ‘em learn on their own”? What kind of grown adults are our kids going to be if they can’t wipe their own asses and buy their own things?

In the interest of full disclosure, I drive Elizabeth to school and drop her off at the front doors, and she’s in the after school program simply because she’s 6. The bus isn’t an option because we’re in an odd location for the district we’re in, and there’s not enough grade school kids for them to send a bus out (Yes, I still live in Buckhead, and I’ve already argued this point to death with the bus people). Elizabeth pushed and prodded me to walk her into class for the first bit of the school year, but after a little time, we came to an agreement for me to just drop her off at the front doors of the school. After starting that, I noticed some of the parents who I would walk from the parking area to Elizabeth’s classroom giving me dirty looks as I let my child off at the front. It’s not like I’m making her walk to school, 3 miles away and crossing some of the busiest roads in Buckhead, I’m Dropping. Her. Off. At. The. School.

I don’t really think that Elizabeth’s old enough to be completely on her own at age 6, but I caught myself having a touch of Helicopter Parent when I got a little freaked at the idea of her playing outside in the yard by herself. When I was younger than her, I spent most of my days outside in the acre of garden and such in my back yard, my grandmother not caring unless I didn’t come when she called me. Yet, I had an issue with her being in the driveway by herself. Yes, we live in Atlanta, which is completely disparate from Gloucester Point, Virginia, but I kicked myself when I realized that I didn’t trust my kid enough to be able to make decisions on her own at all.

I don’t think I’ve done or will be doing a shitty job in raising and teaching Elizabeth how to survive in the world. I know she’s got a lot still to learn, and I’ve got a lot that I wish she didn’t have to ever learn, but I hope I have and can prepare her for both the good and the bad things out there. It killed me to realize that I didn’t trust my kid… does that mean that I don’t think I’ve taught her well or that I just don’t want her to grow up?

Maybe Suebob’s right… this is just another moment in the saga of the Mommy Wars, or in her words, Insecurity on Parade. I have enough insecurity in myself for a small country… and that’s one thing I know that I don’t want to hand off to my child.

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The house, she is Sooooo Quiet.

Since my parents showed up back at the beginning of the month, I’ve gotten to see three movies, two of which I saw this weekend (Caspian and Hulk, for those who care). We even got to go over to a friend’s house and hang out without waiting for the inevitable tears and screams that happen whenever you get children around each other… oh, they still happened at our friends’, but I didn’t have to go running for once to see if it was my child in tears or causing another child to cry for once.

All that being said, though… I still miss coming home and getting a hug and a cry of “Mommy!” every day. At times I look at the calendar and curse that we have so little “grown-up” time left, and in the same instance, look forward to her getting back more than anything.

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Bob Asprin, originally uploaded by dene foye.

While aged, this is a perfect representation of how I remember Bob Asprin from when I was a child. Sitting around, guitar in hand, though the Irish Whiskey isn’t in the shot, from my memories, it was close at hand.

As I got older, and as we moved around, I found his books, and could finally put an amazing story to the songs I grew up with. The Thieves World Musical is one of those things that seemed to finally make sense to me, outside of the fact that I loved those songs simply because I wouldn’t get in trouble for swearing if I was singing along to “Hell Hounds”.

Later, running into him at a con as a teenager, he pissed me off royally, just being himself.

“You’re too old to be Dinah’s Daughter.” Exit, Stage Left.

Yeah, and you’re looking not-so-hot yourself, Bob, thanks.

Come to think of it, that was the last time I spoke to him. I know that he was at Dragoncon last year, but I never did run into him unlike my party because of my commitments. Now I wish I had, because while he could get under your skin without much effort on his part, he was still a good person. And a damned great writer.

Rest in peace, Bob. I’m off to TimeGate this weekend, and I’ll make sure to have a drink for you.

EDIT:

While I’m seeing all kinds of Memoriams out on the Great and Powerful Interwebs, Patty sums it up pretty nicely and reminded me of things I’d forgotten here.

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