Sunday, October 12, 2014

Portland Tattoo Expo 2014: Sneak Peek!

I will write a longer post on this tomorrow (hopefully), but for now I just wanted to share the photos!

The timepiece is my husband Jonathan's, the teal butterfly is mine (a friend for last year's Monarch). And the other image? A Deadpool piggy bank my husband bought me as a gift!

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Saturday, October 04, 2014

Facebook Considering Changes to "No Nicknames" Policy

Today's October Online inspiration: Facebook announces  changes to its "real names only" rule. 

Facebook, everyone's favorite vice, recently enacted a rule presumably meant to decrease online harassment by bullies and trolls, in addition to fraud and other unfortunate side-effects of being able to hide behind one's keyboard. They announced a new policy: "Real Names Only." 

Then was released the Wrath of the Drag Queens.

Female impersonators, many of whom use Facebook to network and market themselves, were outraged. It's a very specific art form that leans heavily on suspension of disbelief: you never refer to a queen in drag by their given name, nor do you use masculine pronouns and descriptors. They aren't acting, they're transforming. 

An important part of that transformation is the use of a good drag name: a comedic name, a name inspired by a particular cultural icon, or a name that is as Hollywood Golden Age level glamorous as the person using it. Regardless of approach, a good name is absolutely essential. It's all about the transformation: a vital party of their job when turning from Andy Johanssen into Czarina Marigold Noir.**

Your name is your brand. And using your given name on your Facebook page is to invite confusion at best, obscurity at worst.

As Emma Llanso points out in her fantastic article on the subject*: for many people, their legal name has no bearing on how a person identifies themselves or how a person is identified by others. And how is the name by which everyone recognizes you, how you are seen in the world, less of a "real name" than the one on your birth certificate?

It was a bad policy, and adding their voices to the dissent were performers and artists of all stripes: actors, musicians, visual artists, writers known only by their nom de plume. All were upset at the prospect. 

This policy also made waves in the Native American online community. We often have two names: our legal name and our traditional name (I am one of those who have both.) Between friends, your "legal name" is rarely what you are known as. And even among those who don't have the two names approach, nicknames are extremely common in our culture. I think I was in my early teens before I realized that my grandfather's legal name wasn't Briar.

To make my situation even imore confusing, l have a legal name, a Native name AND a nickname. I am not at all alone on that score. I am known as Angel for the most part, but it's a nickname my grandmother gave me as a young child, and not my legal name...even though it might as well be! I haven't been anyone other than Angel since 1990. 

Which begs the an Angel an Angel by any name? 

Let's start at the obvious question: why am I primarily known as Angel when it's not my"given name" nor is it my "Native name"? How did I end up with this moniker, anyway?

Well, Angel is a relatively common nickname for 

Angela (and far more to my liking than Angie, which is so 70's it's likely to have been cooked in a space-age kitchen via the goldenrod fridge and avacado green oven). But more importantly, it honors my late grandmother and reflects an important aspect of my birth and even my existence in general. 

Prior to my arrival forty years ago, my mother suffered several miscarriages and then the tragic stillborn death of my older sister, Felicia. This was an event that my parents never truly ever got over (if indeed such a thing is even possible.) 

Despite how acrimonious their divorce and post-divorce relationship generally was, the routine that my parents established after the death of their firstborn remained exactly the same, year after year. On the day in question, my parents would take the day off work, wake up in their separate homes, dress in appropriately somber clothing, and meet at the cemetery to place flowers on the grave. They then had a late breakfast together at a local doughnut shop they both enjoyed. On the rare occasions they'd have to meet up later in the day for whatever reason, they'd go to the pizza place they loved most (Marion's, in Dayton.) They would then return to their separate homes, and spend the rest of the day in seclusion in their rooms. I learned at a very young age to simply leave them alone, let them grieve, and respect their need for privacy.

So when I was born two years after their first daughter's death, my grandmother dubbed me Angel. The child who survived. It's like a 70's Irish immigrant version of Harry Potter. 

Granny gave all five of her grandkids special nicknames, but only mine stuck. I made the choice to adopt it as my permanent moniker at her funeral in 1990. I was 15 and had spent most of the previous four years living with and caring for my ailing grandmother. I remember feeling very sad at her funeral; I was struck by the thought that no one would use my Granny's special nickname for me ever again. I then decided that in her honor, I would now be Angel to everyone. 

As it turned out, I was Angel to everyone except my parents. My father truly despised the name and went to great lengths in his attempts to dissuade me from using it. He would tell callers looking for me that "no one named Angel lives here," to the confusion of friends who only knew me by that name. My dad even refused  to utter the name, preferring to call me Ang (rhymes with flange.) My mother also disliked the name; she preferred Angie, in part due to a Rolling Stones song she enjoyed (which is weird, as it doesn't have very kid-friendly lyrics.) 

I didn't change my name when Facebook enacted its short-lived ban on nicknames, and I was never contacted by Facebook concerning my missing last letter. My daughter, who is known to everyone as Wren, had to change her account to reflect the name her father and I bestowed upon her at birth or leave Facebook. Like most teens, this was unthinkable. So her account now proclaims her to the online world as Serenity. 

There's a story behind her name, as well. I had a very difficult pregnancy with Wren. I suffered from regular kidney stones throughout the pregnancy, and in the third trimester I developed a bad case of round ligament syndrome. To matters worse, I had begun to struggle with a series of strange and frightening symptoms that I was convinced would exit stage right when my second child exited my body. I was not correct in my assumption, as history and the Medic Alert necklace I wear bares out.

found myself saying the Serenity Prayer often as a means of spiritual comfort. After awhile, the Male Unit and I just began to associate our child-to-be with the prayer itself. It was soon impossible to think of her as anything but Serenity.

That didn't last, as neither our firstborn nor my nieces could pronounce the word. She began to be called "Ren." The name stuck. When she was a toddler and undergoing physical therapy, the mother of another patient made an observation: "Phoenix and Wren! Two little birds. That's adorable!"

And thus, she gained a letter via a nickname, just as I had lost one years before. 

I'm glad Facebook is changing its policy. I would be hard-pressed to find someone who doesn't know me as Angel. In addition, I would not like being required to add that -a at the end to transform it from the nickname of affection from my grandmother into the legal name my parents chose as a compromise (can you imagine me as a Virginia or a Cassandra?!? )

Thanks, Facebook, for allowing me to continue to self-identify as the name I prefer to use. Allow your users to identify themselves the way they choose to do, not what would be easiest for you (barring any legitimate TOS issues.) And please don't make any bonehead rules like this again in the near future. At the very least, try not to enact a policy without first running it by the people it would affect. 


**I made this one up. Any resemblance to a person, whether real or fictional, is purely coincidental. If you wish to use the name, have at it. Just send me a signed photo and, in my best Carl Hungus voice, "ve vill calls it even." 

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Friday, October 03, 2014

Today's MS Adventure: All Those People?!?

The nurse calls my name. She opens the door for me and my cane to get through unharmed. I apologize, as I am prone to do, for not being able to walk quickly. She assures me it's not an issue, and proceeds to walk much faster than I can. At one point, she turns a corner and I cannot see her.

She waits for me in front of a dressing room. It's one of several on either side of a short hallway. It's tiny and clean with a thinly-padded tan bench, a hook on the wall for my pocketbook, a thick navy blue curtain acting as a door, and a small painting of what surely must be New England in autumn. It's the sort of artwork you expect to find in a mid-range hotel room: a framed painting of a large tree partially shed of its red, yellow and green leaves. A few birds have gathered on the nearly-bare branches. You can just make out a vibrant, red barn in the distance, at the end of a quaint country road. It's the sort of vignette Thomas Kinkaide would paint and John Denver would sing about. It is oddly comforting. 

I am handed a variation on the usual hospital gown that ties in the back, hangs to your knees and leaves your backside exposed and chilly. This one is less mumu and more like the type of smocks they give you in elementary school on finger painting day. It's blue, hangs to my waist, and ties in the front. I take off my new shirt, the one with a skull and a set of steampunk-ish keys instead of crossbones. I fold it neatly and put it in my purse. My bra follows. 

"Did you put on deodorant before you left home today?"

I had not. Insomnia had kept me awake last night. The sleeplessness was partly due to my very heat-reactive multiple sclerosis raging at these infuriating summer temperatures so close to Halloween...and partly due to my fear of this little room, this surprisingly comfortable hospital blouse, this kind nurse with her clipboard and quirky earrings. And thus while wide awake and frightened last night, I availed myself of Google's bounty of information and read up on how to prepare for this particular procedure*: no deodorant, no powders, no lotions, no perfumes. 

It feels odd to sit in this tiny room in an art-class smock, wearing only the smock with slacks, underwear and combat boots. And no deodorant. That part feels weirdest of all. 

I am an old hand at the hurry-up-and-wait routine you encounter at most medical offices. I thusly came prepared: I have an ice-cold bottle of 7-Up, a hand fan to help reduce the effects of the heat's assault on my disease-riddled body, a pillbox with medications I may or may not need, and a book to read to pass the time. 

The book was purchased for this exact purpose: it's a small, narrow paperback perfectly suited to throw in a purse and take to the medical office du jour. And so I prop my cane against the wall, sit down on the meager bench and begin reading Carolyn Meyer's "Duchessina." It's based on the life of the medieval noblewoman Caterina de'Medici. I can hear a woman in a nearby stall change into her own light blue half-apron. I wonder if she is as uncomfortable being in public without deodorant as I am. 

My name is called, and the technician comes to get me. She is short and has a big smile. She is Asian, and immediately reminds me of a friend from my MS support group. I wonder if the tech is Vietnamese, too. And, like my friend, did her family come here after the war? I think about my friend as we walk past the rows of little dressing rooms. I am trying not to think of where we are headed.

And then we are there. I am shown a chair, told where to put my purse. The technician grabs my chart, and raises an eyebrow. 

"Do all these people in your family have a history of breast cancer?" she asks. 

Not at all of them. Some are only rumored to have had "female problems." Only one is dead from it: my mother. She was 44.

I am 40. And this was my first mammogram. 

By my age, my mother had already had the cancer for at least two years. She was 38 when she found the lump. Because of her severe phobia of needles, she waited until the lump was unavoidably and constantly painful to get it checked. That was over a year later.

The tech noticed the "pre-surgery" note on my chart. "Hysterectomy?" she asks. I nod. "I don't blame you," she adds after I told her that on top of my insane risk of breast, ovarian & uterine cancers, I have frequent ovarian cysts and extreme difficulties with my menstrual cycle.

"What kind of difficulties?" she inquired.

I have had three periods in the last ten weeks. I have developed frequent migraines when on my extremely frequent periods. I've also developed what my physician, The Viking, refers to as "pernicious anemia." And to make matters so much worse, I have a history of developing painful ovarian cysts. 

In other words: my reproductive system is all out of whack, and likely hates me with a rage close to blind vengeance. It is the Lady Tremaine to my Cinderella. 

Which led to my various doctors strongly suggesting a hysterectomy, and my strongly agreeing with their prognosis. "I don't blame you," says the tech. 

She explains the procedure and places a lead skirt around my waist, in an attempt to protect the organs I plan to remove after this scan. Irony, you are in rare form today...

We begin the scan. I am able to walk today, but I had not considered that I would need to balance myself without a cane for this. It's harder than it sounds. 

Out of curiosity, I ask what the procedure is like for wheelchair users. After all, this is only the first of many scans. I will not be able to walk through all of them.

The tech was very kind, and eagerly answered my questions. Basically: there's a room specifically for wheelchair users. She also shared that I would be "better off using the chair next time," given the twists and turns you must make, all whilst trying to keep yourself from toppling over. I needed help to move a few times, thanks up my uncooperative right side. 

The vast majority of MS patients have a "bad side," where the symptoms are prominent and for many, the only place symptoms exist at all. Mine is my right side. All my early signs are on that side. Eleven years ago, my disease went progressive and as a result, both sides have issues. However, my right side remains much worse. I refer to it as my "bad side" or my "MS profile." 

My MS Profile made itself known during the scan. I was shaky and worried I would fall. There were grab bars, but they weren't placed by anyone with experiences of multiple sclerosis and didn't make me feel very secure.

But the part that truly upset me? The scan didn't hurt on my right side. I barely felt anything outside of a little pressure. When it was time to change sides, I recall thinking this wasn't so bad.

Then we switched sides. I felt the pressure of the plates as they pressed down on my left breast. Then it started: a stinging, stabbing sensation, not what I'd call "painful," more "very unpleasant." 

This, in addition to my back, which began spasms in response to all the put-down-your-shoulders-face-the-ceiling-now-pivot-your-shoulder-hold-still-don't-breathe instructions via the tech. She sounds more like a yoga instructor than a mammography technician. Then my leg got in the act, and just plain wasn't having it. I feel ganged up on. I was offered a chance to "take a break," but declined. I just wanted this to be over. 

And then it was. The tech offers me an emery board and Chapstick, both emblazoned with the clinic's logo. A booby prize for your booby scan.

I am then directed to the same tiny dressing room. I take out my book and wait for them to tell me whether or not I will need another scan. Apparently, a "bad view" can sometimes occur. 

A few minutes later, the tech returns. The scans are good, and I can get dressed and leave. I sigh in relief.

I put on my bra and shirt. I brought my deodorant along in my pocketbook, and happily apply it. I hope I didn't cause a stink bomb for the tech, who quite literally had to help put my breasts onto the plate while I concentrated on not falling. I will most definitely bring my wheelchair next time.

Next time. This was only the first, but far from my last. 

It was then that I realized the significance of the lack of discomfort on my right side. My problem side. I didn't feel a thing. The implication of this lack of feeling was almost as frightening as the implication of "all these people." Almost. 

I go to the bathroom, trying to compose myself. I am struck by the sight of what appears to be a very angry duck positioned in front of the mirror: 

It's silly, but the absurdity of it somehow helps. 

My husband takes me out for lunch after the scan, and then we take advantage of a slow cooker sale at Freddy's. It was there that I noticed the second absurd wooden animal of the day, a bear who stepped on a gnome:

My husband, the Male Unit, is trying hard to take my mind off of today's business. His efforts are appreciated, although ineffective. I am still well aware of my situaton.

I had a scan yesterday, to check for the cancer that killed my mother. And during said scan, I realize the nerve damage on my right side is a lot worse--and higher up my body--than I have hitherto known. 

I awoke this morning with chest wall and breast pain, feeling the sort of discomfort one would expect would leave you bruised and battered...but only on my left side. 

And now I wait. 

And pray. 
Click to help fund mammograms for poor women (it's free and only takes a moment of your time):

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Thursday, October 02, 2014

What I Recently Noticed About Spider-Man

Today's October Online is a meme I created a few days ago. Enjoy!  

Wednesday, October 01, 2014

October Online Day 1: Jonathan's Birthday

Today is October 1st: my husband Jonathan's 40th birthday.

As a result, today's post is dedicated to the love of my life. Happy birthday, sweetheart!



1) His wonderful smile. 
2) The sound of his voice, especially when it's the first thing I hear in the morning. 
3) His laugh, and how easily he does so.
4) His beautiful hazel eyes, and how they change color according to his mood: a deep chocolate brown when laughing, the vivid gold flecks that appear when he is proud, the vibrant green when he is affectionate. 
5) His fantastic sense of humor, and his keen eye for the absurd. It's one of my favorite things about him. We saw Craig Ferguson live some time ago, and it was so much fun I simply cannot wait to go see some stand-up with him again in the very near future. 

6) The joy he takes in our children. His relationships with the three very individual kids we've been blessed with never fails to amaze (and sometimes amuse) me. 

7) His love of reading. Many of my happiest moments are spent curled up together in our bed, each of us reading. It is the very essence of loving contentment. 
8) The holidays. We celebrate both Christmas and Hannukah in our home, and he loves both. He takes so much pleasure in decorating the tree, cooking the Christmas turkey, stuffing stockings and the gift bags we use for Hannukah. I cannot imagine a winter without the tree and the candles. But most of all, I love how he leads the Hebrew prayers and helps the kids light the menorah for all eight nights. Sometimes, I imagine what it will be like when he helps our grandchildren pronounce the Hannukah blessing and guide their little hands to the candles, just as he did for our children. 

9) How he can still make me feel young, sexy & beautiful no matter how old, dumpy and unkempt I might be. 
10) His grill skills. Chicken, steak, kebabs: he slays 'em all! We have a covered deck--which he loves--as it allows him to grill all year round. 
11) His passion for his work with wine. I've known my husband for a few hundred years or so, but would never have predicted that he would discover a love for wine and become a sommelier. I love watching him "talk shop" when out at nice restaurants. 

12) His guitar. I am rarely happier and more content than when I am listening to him play. 
13) His intelligence. He's brilliant. And I am not exaggerating despite my obvious bias. It was one of the first things that attracted me to him. Before Jonathan, I thought my only dating options were A) smarts & B) looks. I was I unaware of the third option, the option he embodies: C) all of the above. 
14) The stretch he always does when in the mood for love. I adore that stretch. 
15) His Snoopy obsession. He's loved Snoopy since early childhood and I love the look on his face when the kids & I buy him a new addition to his vast collection. 

16) His hair. His parents have never exactly been fans of his long ponytail, but I certainly am. I love how it has gotten longer as he ages, the streaks of pure silver mixed in with the black, the way it looks when it is down...and the fact that only I ever see it that way. 
17) The fact that he is the only guy I have ever known who did not scoff or roll his eyes at my interest in role playing and comic books. That's just one example of the lack of misogyny in his personality that I cherish. 
18) His respect of and love for his parents. I didn't have an intact family growing up, nor did I have a good example of a strong marriage. Seeing my father-in-law's love for his wife and hers for him makes me so glad that my kids not only have the two of us for an example, but also the two of them. 
19) The way he goes overboard to make our kids' birthdays so special. I love how important it is to him that they have a memorable and happy day. 

20) The joy he gets when finding out we can spend a little more unexpected time together: coming home early from work, a day off translating to a fantastic outing, etc. It's as if there is nothing more he'd rather do than spend some extra time together. 
21) How much fun we have together! Life with him has never been boring, and I still feel like a newlywed sometimes. There's a lot to be said for that!  
22) His love for tattoos, and how much fun we have getting them. And how much fun we have at tattoo conventions! Something we only discovered fairly recently, but has quickly become a favorite romantic outing. 

23) His spirituality and deep connection to his Jewish roots, and how he is very comfortable in his beliefs and equally as comfortable in mine, despite my different religion. His respect for my beliefs is one of the things I admire most about him, if for no other reason than the fact that so many give lip service to such loving tolerance, but fall short on actually living it. 
24) How good a father he is. When I was twelve years old, I prayed, earnestly and whole-heartedly, that someday G-d would send me a better father for my children than the one I had been given myself. Not a day goes by that I am not grateful to G-d and to Jonathan himself that this prayer was answered, and so very well. 
25) And more important than all the 24 other things I listed: I love Jonathan for simply being Jonathan. I always have, and I always will. 

Happy Birthday, Jonathan! I love you!

October Online: A Post A Day Keeps the Writer's Block Away

The last few years have been quite rough on me, both physically and emotionally. One of the "side effects" of this long and stressful period of time in my life is that I have not been writing as much as I would like. I have not been updating this blog very often, and not at all for my other blog (Bad Baby Names). Worse, the book I've been working on has been woefully neglected.

Some time ago, I read a piece of advice from an author: get into the habit of writing every single day. I think that's wonderful advice, and have decided to implement it.  Thus, for the entire month of October, I shall write at least one post per day. 

Some posts may be long, others quite short. The goal is to learn to write regularly, not to learn to write a prerequisent amount of words.

I have high hopes that this exercise will help me to write more often...and possibly help me to finish my book at long last. I am calling this month-long experiment "October Online." 

And as October 1st is my husband's 40th birthday, I know just where to start. 



Saturday, September 27, 2014

Of "Once Upon a Time" and "Frozen": Where Should They Go From Here?


Earlier today, I made on a comment on Facebook about the upcoming Season 5 premiere of ABC's "Once Upon a Time," a show my family is utterly addicted to. It got me thinking...where could OUAT go after Anna and Elsa are gone? What storyline is left unfinished? What mysteries have yet to be solved?

If you couldn't already tell, I wholeheartedly love the show and am eagerly awaiting the premiere. It feels like this hiatus has taken forever...

...but I am somewhat disappointed that they chose to do "Frozen" at this time and I hope it doesn't take up the entire season. 

What would I like to see happen instead? Need you even ask?

After seeing Lancelot in previous episodes...

...and being a huge Arthurian fan, I have been hoping that the next new world we see in "Once" is Avalon: learning about the fall of Camelot and how Lancelot ended up being one of the Enchanted Forest's last defenders. 

Not to mention the mystery surrounding the Lady of the Lake.

Who is she? What happened to her after the curse destroyed the lake? 

And wouldn't she naturally blame a certain someone for it?

Morgan le Fay would be an excellent foil for Regina (and it's certainly possible that the Lady is Morgan.) Or perhaps a better rival could be found in the infamous Madam Mim from Disney's version of "The Sword in the Stone." 

I've brought this up in other forums only  to be told that the SITS is "just not a popular Disney film." Well, neither was "Robin Hood," and we have Robin & Marian anyway. But I digress. 

Let's say the show abandons the loose threads Lancelot left in his wake...for now. Would it be too much to ask for one of the live-action films in Disney's vault to make an appearance? "Bedknobs and Broomsticks," which also centers around a powerful sorceress and a magic book, would be a great addition. 

I have often wondered what happened to the bedknob-holding child in that he still has magic he never renounced entirely at the end of the film. Perhaps the bedknob is in Rumple's vault of powerful magic...and its owner wants it back?

Exploring a "Bedknobs & Broomsticks" storyline would also give the series a chance to bring back a fan favorite: Ariel. 

We know (thanks to the Wicked Witch's confession to Hook in the last season) that Ariel finds her Prince on an island untouched by the curse. Could it be the Isle of Namboombu? Is that perhaps where her friends like Flounder and Sebastian are from? 

And there's even a dangerous magic afoot in that object that either could be or should be in Rumple's vault. An object that completes the awesome spell of Substitiary Locomotion: 

It has potential, no doubt about it. And while I'd certainly love to see that story arch develop, I am first and foremost an Arthurian fanatic...and thus I want to see SITS make a Storybrooke appearance above all else.

We've seen Lancelot, and been given some tantalizing clues that beg to be resolved (his assertion that his downfall was due to the love of a barren woman; when asked if he was a Knight of the Round Table he answered, "Not anymore.") And this is a show that loves foreshadowing...leaving those threads loose seems atypical of this program.

But as much as I love Lance, and want to see his story unfold...I love Merlin more. So where is the most famous wizard of all time? How would he fit in to the "Once" world?

Merlin is known for prophecy. Perhaps HE wrote Henry's book? 

That fifth book does look awfully familiar...

The book and its origins are already one of the fans' favorite mysteries. It's spawned many fan theories, such as this very popular one:

That would be very much in keeping with Belle's personality. It would give her a chance to be a heroine in her own right, separate from Rumple, and would give her job as Storybrooke's librarian a much-needed purpose.

Belle is, after all, known for her love of books and her formidable research skills. 

It's difficult to believe that she would take over the boarded-up collection and yet never yearn to find the answer to the question staring her in the face: "Why was the library closed for so many long years...and what happened to the former librarian?"

Could he be...

And beyond the mysteries of the book and the library, what else could Merlin have up his famous blue sleeves? 

Perhaps Merlin sent the former Dark One to Rumple...his replacement? 

We even have an idea of what Merlin would look like in Storybrooke...

...and is it just me, or does he look like the kind of man who might draw one particular woman's eye? 

Not that she'd make it easy on him...

Madam Mim could fit in here quite nicely: as a rival for Merlin's heart. My money's on Granny. Mim may be a powerful sorceress who can turn herself into a young, purple-haired beauty...but Granny was a changeling herself, and in a fight a giant wolf beats a Suicide Girl any day. 

But substitute Mim for the Lady of the Lake? That one just might give Granny a run for her money! 

Disney's "Sword in the Stone" was primarily based on the T.H. White classic, "The Once and Future King." I hope that if a Merlin DOES in fact make a visit to the "OUAT" world, that the writers make use of an interesting aspect of that version of Merlin: he's traveling backwards in time. 

While his living-in-the-opposite-linear-fashion is always good for a much-needed comedic this case, it could also be a major plot device. After all, SOMEBODY wrote Henry's Book of Happy Endings. Endings that even a powerful curse from the Evil Queen or her Wicked Witch of a sister could not re-write.

It's almost as if someone knows exactly how all of this would the future...

And finally, we come back yet again to Lancelot. A hero whose heart is broken, and whose heart needs to learn to love again. 

That is the central, recurring theme of OUAT, and I cannot believe for one minute that Lancelot would be the one character for whom true love doesn't provide a much-needed cure. 

Maybe he could find someone to rescue? Someone who, in turn, could rescue him? But who still needs rescuing at this point in the series...?

Come on, writers & producers for OUAT. Make this happen. It's high time we had a little more Camelot in our Storybrooke! 


Today's Season 5 premiere was interesting. They show Rumple and Belle on their honeymoon in a beautiful manor house...whose owner is unknown. "No one as yet has claimed it," according to Belle. 

We quickly forget about this mystery because OMG THEY ARE WEARING THE OUTFITS AND DANCING TO "BEAUTY AND THE BEAST!" 

The main room of this most unusual Honeymoon Suite is round and full of books, which Belle naturally sees as a "perfect setting." 

However, Rumple is immediately suspicious, referring to the as-yet-unknown owner as having "interesting taste." He seems to be drawn to a certain interesting box. When Rumple uses his infamous dagger of magic on it, he finds....a long light blue Wizard's hat.

Now, whose could that possibly be? 

Also of note: the narrator makes a point of telling us that Rumple is "the greatest bearer of dark magic in any world." 

Leaving us to wonder just who is the greatest LIGHT magic bearer.

And what is Regina doing during all this? Trying to find out who wrote Henry's book. She sees the book as "immutable," and thinks a trip to the past will circumvent Maid Marion's happy ending. She's got a newly-imprisoned Sidney on the case, and at some point she will likely contact Storybrooke's resident bibliophile: Belle. 

As for Anna? She's trying to find out what happened to her and Elsa's parents...who vanished on a body of water while searching for a magic land called Misthaven. She then takes a ship (perhaps the Jolly Roger that Hook sold last season in order to save Emma?) in search of the answers. 

A land in the where have I heard that before....?

Storybrooke may be frozen...but Avalon could save the day!