Semi-charmed kind of life. Take 3

I have been wanting to start a blog.  I have been thinking about it and talking about it and threatening to do it.  I have had several false starts now because I just don’t really know where to begin.  People say to begin at the beginning, but WHICH beginning?  The beginning of today?  The beginning of my life (that would be long and boring.  Geesh, I can’t even remember most of it.) the beginning of my time in Florida (when written like that – time in Florida- it sounds like a prison sentence.  My time behind bars, by Shannon Brennan) so I didn’t know where to begin.  I would imagine if anyone reads this it will be people that I know and that know me to some extent.  So I feel foolish introducing myself and the characters that participate in this production of My Life.  On the other hand, I dislike when others assume you know all the same people they do and also know their relationship those people.  So they will just discuss individuals on a first name basis and then I spend the rest of the conversation half distracted trying to remember who the hell the person being discussed IS, if I have met this person, if I should know this person and if it is rude to ask for clarification.  So I decided that I will do a brief cast of characters here.  Also, I was a theatre major so it’s only natural for me to do so.  To list the character and a description, as in the beginning of a script.  Ready of not, here we go.

Brian.  41 year old long suffering partner of mine.  Uber conservative, history buff, organized neat freak, terrorized by myself and my creative endevors because “this is a HOUSE Shannon.  NOT a studio.” Whatever, Brian.  Me thinks the gentleman doth protest too much.

Shannon.  That’s me.  I am ageless and timeless and often brainless and senseless.  I would be the author of this little blog.  I knit, crochet, sew, paint, make jewelry, stained glass and generally make a mess.  I am disorganized and happily hide behind the title of “artist” to explain my less than logical way of life.  Generally if someone is called an artist the immediate assumption is that that person is on the eccentric.  I am totally cool with that.

Molly.  She is my 20 year old daughter that is in the Marines.  I have all the respect in the world for the police, firemen and the armed forces and I told my children that there were three professions that I would rather they never did.  Police, Firefighter and Military.  I understand the need.  I respect and honor those that serve us, but these are my children and I have an anxiety disorder.  So naturally my first born joined the Marines.  Let that be a lesson onto you.

Gabrielle.  Gabs is my 18 year old recently graduated daughter.  She has Cerebral Palsy – but she walks and talks (non stop) and generally functions but will never be able to life alone (and when you read some of the stories of her mis- adventures you will see why.) and needs a lot of help with most daily activities.  She has only one vocal cord that works so she has a very soft voice and delights in making me say “I can’t hear you from across the house Gabrielle.”

Eve. Aged 17 She is determined to be the president of the United States in 2036.  That is the first year she is able to become president.  She is smart and tall and lovely.  She also is pretty cool most of the time although she recently turned teen.  Obviously at 17 she has been a teenager for a long while, but about a year ago her attitude started to reflect it.  Like on the Walking Dead when someone ‘turns’ that means they become a zombie.  Same idea.  Except in that situation stabbing the person in the head is encouraged and when your kid turns teen stabbing is frowned upon.  So you just have to sort of live with it and pray to God that they will come back to you before the age of 25.

Christian.  He is 14 and he lives in NY (Syracuse) with his father as of last June.  The schools in Florida are notoriously terrible and our home school (which Eve does not attend as she qualified for the IB program in a different high school in the county) is worse than most.  So he is attending MY old high school.  With some of my old teachers, and my old friends that are now teachers.  I told him between his father, his grandparents and I we know EVERYONE and he will get away with NOTHING.  This has already proven to be the case.

Timothy.  He will be 13 in April and he is a little ball buster. He uses big words of which he only has a vague idea of the meaning which cracks me up.  He is quirky and cute and aspires to be absolutely average.  He wants to do only enough to be good enough and devotes the rest of his time and energy to talking about football and picking on his sisters.

Prim- Prim is our Mini Schnauzer.  She is nauseatingly devoted to Brian.  She thinks she may actually be a cat.  She loves to dress up.

Dublin- Dubs is our half Persian Orange cat that is smarter than most of the people that live in the house and we are fairly certain he is an English Spy or a member of the IRA.  We suspect he wears a fedora and smokes a pipe while sipping Brandy when we are not home.

Silver- He is our Russian Blue kitty.  He sort of hangs out and doesn’t do anything and is the epitome of what non cat people think a cat is.  He is Dublin’s cat actually.  When our other cat, Jasper, was hit by a car Dublin was beside himself.  He went from window to window and door to door meowing pathetically looking for his brother.  So we got Silver.

Daisy – aka- White Kitten.  Well, she is a flame point Siamese that our outside cat brought home one day.  In her mouth.  Mother- cat like.  Except the outside cat (Babykitten) is fixed and this is not her kitten.  We live on a golf course and I suspect she was dropped here.  So when we got her her eyes were infected and she was pure white.  Brian keeps telling Babykitten to return her to where she found her.  She has thumbs and if she had the intellect of Dublin she could probably rule the world.

Babykitten.  Last, but not least.  She is known as ‘the nightmare’.  she used to be a sort of nice cat, we took her in as a kitten.  She has never wanted to be inside the house and would regularly escape, claw her way out via the screens and attack you if you got too close and tried to bring her back inside.  So she lives outside mostly, she frequents the neighbors houses, comes in to eat, hisses and growls at the humans and animals in the house and then goes back outside.  If there is a storm coming we are all aware because she WANTS to go outside, but she won’t so instead she makes us all miserable.  We are all afraid of her.  Except White Kitten who is fairly certain that Babykitten secretly wants to be friends. I can assure you, Babykitten does not want to be anyone’s friend.

I apologize, this post was super boring I think.  Hopefully this will have broken whatever block I had and will allow me to just write.  I write something every day anyhow, on face book, in emails to myself because I am a weirdo, in my journal etc.  I figured I could put it into a blog format, now maybe I will be able to just do that.

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