Why Blame When You Can Breathe?

DISCLAIMER: 'As Told by Ginger' is a creation of Emily Kapnek and is produced by Anivision, Klasky-Csupo and Nickelodeon/Viacom Networks. This author makes no claim to any properties herein and makes no monetary gain from its production. Please do not flame.

(Chapter 2- Just Keep Telling Yourself That)

The sigh on the other end of the line tells me all I need to know about what Miranda thought about my latest plans. She knows there's not a damn thing I can do about it now that I've committed, but for her it's not really about the job. It goes much deeper than that…for both of us, to be honest.

"I heard that, Miranda," I chastise, even though I knew that this would not be the most pleasant news to her ears.

"Well what do you want me to do?" she questions. "Throw you a fucking parade?"

"No, but at the very least I would expect you to be cordial about this. We were all friends at one point!"

"Cordial, my ass!" she interjects and I have to grit my teeth for a bit, feeling that I might've struck a nerve with that comment. "Not when it always comes back to Ginger! We can be cool and everything, we can be buddies, but…I've always gotten the feeling there was more there than friendship back then and especially now!"

Now I have to sigh heavily and drop my head. It's a good thing we're not over a video conference at the moment. "Miranda, we've talked about this so many times…"

"So you don't mind that we talk about this again, huh?"

"No, I just don't care for the fact that you throw out such innuendos with no basis to them."

"Then just tell me you don't have feelings for Ginger and I'll stop the innuendos."

Miranda can be so aware and so on top of matters, it's scary. I've never been able to slip a lie through her during intimate conversations, and I doubt I'll be able to do that now…even through the phone. Even with that fact in mind, the answer to her question should be obvious. "That's not fair, and you know it," I plead to my good friend. "Besides, do I have to dredge up the reason why you saw her as the bane of your existence for so long? I'll be damned if I've ever seen so much jealousy from one person to another and so undeserved for things you or she couldn't control."

"Just admit it, for God's sake," Miranda says, nearly exasperated that I keep beating around the bush about this, even though it doesn't put me in the best light. I begin to open my mouth and then she beats me to the punch, saying, "Okay. I don't want to come across as cold given this shock assignment, Courtney. You want me to admit my end of this, as if you don't already know? Yeah, I admired Ginger just about as much as you did, with one exception. I knew long before you did about loving differently and…how you'd look at her, how you'd want to know more about her and the like; I went through that same song and dance with you. In other words, I saw myself in you like you did with Ginger. Our worlds aren't so far apart, Courtney. I love you. Hell, I'll never stop loving you and you know this." Sighing, she caps this admission, which I already knew, with, "But, I'm more than a little pissed. Even post-divorce she's still the object of your affection to my utter bewilderment."

She sounds like the most scorned yet jealous lover that I've ever known, and it's all true. And yes, if you didn't already know Miranda Killgallen is my ex-wife. I don't care much for labels, but I haven't so much as chastely kissed another man who wasn't either close or related to me since age sixteen. I own my identity, so as far as the question is concerned, am I a Lesbian? Dyke? Queer? Homosexual? I am all of those things or some of them…yet none of them at the same time. I'm just me; a woman who knows what she wants in life and knows that that includes another woman and the accompanying intimacy. Though I will admit 'queer' comes with a bit of mystique and intrigue that the other names do not, I see no point in answering to it as simply living my life gives everyone all they need to know about Courtney Gripling.

Miranda is altogether different. 'I'm a dyke, and that's all right!' along with 'Know it, own it, live it and be it,' are just two of her favorite sayings and they've served her well during her career and life.

She and I reconnected during our last year of high school, but our interactions were severely limited because of distance and the fact that she joined the enrichment program at USC's ROTC before starting the fall semester.

Once our respective wheels began to roll in terms of starting college life on the other end of the country in schools less than fifteen miles away from one another, we helped each other through that first year. We knew that while we were far away, a friend was always close.

Miranda, at the time, didn't have a car, so we would often carpool from campus to campus either studying or going out during the weekends before we got the idea to pool our resources together after our freshman years and put the money going into room and board into an apartment.

From there, our relationship only grew deeper as we balanced studies with work and extracurricular programs. While not living a particularly lavish life in Los Angeles, we did well...even though we were living a quite obvious lie.

Tensions between the two of us would often rise to a near-boil week after week during our sophomore year. Casually undressing in front of one another or acting flirtatious while on the phone with dates or among company was no longer just a matter of 'girls being girls', though if one of us left the room or turned away, it was clear what that amounted to for anyone paying attention. I knew Miranda was out and, while I'm not proud of it, I'd bait her with talks of blind dates and to keep her on her toes, I wouldn't mention the fact that all of them were with other college girls in Southern California.

"I'll always love you too, Miranda," I admit, though she knew the feeling was mutual. "But...months of counseling and we both know that we're best as best friends. I'll never regret for marrying you, though. You remember how it really started for us, right?"

"Yeah," she sighs and I can almost hear her voice soothe as the memory comes back to both of us. Stick with me, because I have to set the table for what happened that night. To this day I still can't believe this was the genesis of my romantic relationship with Miranda, but stranger things have happened in the game of love.

Living for nearly six months with Miranda came to a head in late February of my sophomore year. I got a call from Blake on an otherwise lazy Saturday. At age fifteen going on sixteen my baby brother was soon to graduate high school early as high school valedictorian and everyone in the family was excited for his prospects. Again, with the trust fund money was no issue but even that didn't matter as Blake got offers of full academic scholarships from top schools all across the country.

If the family were honest, we thought the choice was a no-brainer. Mom talked throughout the year to me about how Blake saw Yale as being perfect. He would only be an hour from home, get a world-class education and take part in perhaps the greatest alumni network in all the world. I only heard the occasional reference to NYU and Columbia, mostly from my dad, but Yale tended to dominate any talks about Blake's future plans.

In any case, he called to tell me that there had been a change in plans. I wondered if he would take the Horace Greeley approach and go west like Miranda and I. Thoughts of him going to Stanford came to mind, but before I could ask him he went into this spiel about Yale feeling 'too perfect' and looking for, above all, a challenge to get him out of his comfort zone and feed a constant hunger for learning.

It all led up to him informing me that he traded his Ivy League acceptance letters for Vanderbilt University in Nashville, Tennessee.

Maybe you couldn't have knocked me over with a feather at that moment, but I'd say that news came with the shock of waking up to morning thunder. Blake never talked about going too far for school but did visit the campus without telling mom and dad while spending a week in Nashville during spring break. That earned him more than a tongue lashing from both of my folks, but they're nevertheless proud of the fact that he got into such a prestigious school.

Before hanging up the phone, I told him I was proud of him for taking this big step and it was all true. Beyond the congratulatory words, however, I sat there in bed. There I was; a big sister realizing that not only does time fly quickly, it can easily leave those behind who live this thing called life. Ultimately, Blake, who's now 27, found his true calling and left behind his Yale aspirations to go to Harvard for his Masters degree in Education. Right now he is a year away from earning his Doctorate in Education online.

I'm embarrassed to admit it now, but I cried after about a minute thinking that this would be us going our separate ways for good and starting our own lives at different ends of the nation only to come back in contact with one another during the holidays or other special occasions a few times a year. Before the insider trading scandal, money couldn't mask the fact that there was a stark divide between my brother and I. Age and different interests may have contributed to that, but after my dad's arrest, that all changed.

Our bond became stronger through the realization that we were truly all we had and all that mattered in the face of having only one parent around due to my dad's offenses. In fact before leaving for Los Angeles, I considered Blake either at or next to Miranda as my closest confidant.

Speaking of her, this is where she comes into my story...finally! She heard me crying while in the kitchen that day making lunch. When I revealed everything, Miranda was so understanding and helpful during that confusing time. I know if you look at her on the surface, she can appear to be most abrasive and downright sinister, especially at work, but deep down, she is an absolute teddy bear. I know she'd hate to hear anyone say that about her, but only those that really know her felt what I felt that night.

"You thought about Blake and your folks and the emotions just rose to the surface," Miranda recollects after I gave her a brief summary of that night. "Suddenly, the trips home for Blake would go from two hours round trip to fourteen hours one-way by car. Granted, he could do two and a half hour flights, but it's still a huge fucking difference. Like I told you, you were all the way across the country and doing well. Our trips back to Connecticut by plane took twice as long as Blake's, but...looking back I have to say everything worked out well for him."

"'Blake's gotta find himself, just like you did,' is what you told me, and you were right," I follow while trying to steer the conversation back to our relationship. "Yet, I just kept crying and almost began losing my breath. Remember, I had you with me that entire time. We lifted each other and got through the struggles and the homesickness. He would be on his own. Not nearly as far away, but still sixteen years old and quite far from home.

"Then I screamed, 'My baby brother is growing up too damn fast. Hell, he can't even drive a car yet! How does he expect to tackle a new state and new challenges?' And you said, 'Have faith in him, Courtney. Just have faith.'"

"And then...I wrapped you in a big hug and-God, this is so fucking corny when I think about it."

"To hear you admit how much you cared for me and didn't want me to end up in a rut about Blake was such a relief." Then I sigh. It hits me hard. That moment really broke me out of a shell I never knew I had. I was never the same woman after that night, all thanks to Miranda. Even though I've personally moved on from her, a part of Miranda will always live with me...though I gather a bigger part of me will always reside within Miranda.

From the point she had me in that bear-like embrace, she rested her hands around the back of my neck to caress it and quickly got my attention by looking me square into the eyes.

At that point, she leaned in and while I probably should've shivered, shrieked or shifted my view from her steely eyes, I did nothing but sit there. I felt a tremendous peace as she gave me a kiss on the lips lighter than a hummingbird's feather. She was so tender at that moment, the antithesis of what the world would know in the foul-mouthed sports agent. I got the purest form of Miranda Killgallen on that night...and so much more.

Leaning back from the kiss for a split second, she then went to my ear to inquire something I didn't expect but should've seen coming from a great distance. "Why don't we quit playing these games and you join me in bed right now? I know you've had it for me for the longest time, Courtney, so for now," she says before stealing a kiss on the cheek and then requesting of me, "I just want you to let it all go by the wayside. This is your time, Courtney. Whatever you want, I'll provide at your pace because you mean that much to me. You understand?"

Besides that initial, 'Okay,' to Miranda, I didn't do much more talking that afternoon. Lots of heavy breathing, grunts and the occasional scream were just part of that night that went from Blake's surprise to me and Miranda making love for nearly four hours without a lull in activity. Afterwards, the feeling didn't depart. It followed me closer than my own shadow as Miranda cuddled in bed with me the rest of the evening. Thoughts of our actions still vivid in our heads and us exposed with nothing more to hide only heightened the intensity of the moment even though the rest of the time we spent holding and kissing one another with legitimate affection and adulation.

It's been said, ironically enough, that one cannot truly feel alive unless they find themselves either at the brink of death or with the belief that they could go to such extremes. Miranda brought out of me emotions, instincts and responses I never knew were in me. Miranda gave me that gift and sent me to the brink of passion the likes of which no other woman has done before or since.

"I'll never forget that moment," I tell my ex. "Remember when we went home that summer?"

"Talk about your shocking news, but all told our folks took it quite well. I think my dad always had a feeling that's how I swung, but you already knew that. Speaking of summer, will Blake be coming home this summer?"

"I'm not sure. He's got so much going on for him it's hard to ask him to bring the whole clan halfway around the world. It'll be great to see him throughout his vacation if he can come back home."

"Sure enough," she replies before I heard a light ring in the background. A second or so passes as Miranda speaks into the receiver telling me to "Hold on." I wait, but no longer than a minute before I hear a click over and a voice asking "Courtney?"

There's no doubt in my mind who that is. "Tara? Hey, how are you girl? I didn't expect you to be on the line."

"I feel all right. The visit to the doctor tomorrow should confirm that for me and our expanding family."

"Good luck with that, both of you-well, all of you actually."

"Thanks, but between you and I, I'm sure everything will check out with no problems," Tara explains, "I think Miranda is freaking out a bit too much over the initial prenatal checkup."

"Oh, so sue me for being concerned about my wife and our unborn child!" Miranda chimes in with obvious faux outrage. "Some gratitude you offer me when I not only volunteer to chauffeur but offer to take you out for breakfast on me."

"You know what I mean, Miri," Tara replies assuredly, "and I really do appreciate all that you're doing to make sure I'm comfortable and well taken care of, but...I'm the one carrying this bundle of joy. If anybody knows my body, it would be me."

Yes, it's true. Soon Miranda will add 'mother' to her list of accomplishments as the former Tara Ortiz is now three months pregnant. The fact is it hasn't been easy for the two to get to this point as IVF treatments haven't given Tara success until recently. It got to the point that the pair considered adoption and while that remains on the table long term, the focus now goes to a healthy pregnancy for Tara. Both she and Miranda deserve it after nearly four years of work to make this a reality.

As for me, I'm happy for my friend while knowing that things are certain to be different for all of us given that much of her time will have to go toward the new baby. Our time together after the divorce already went way down after Miranda began dating Tara and significantly dropped to about three to four times a month after she remarried. I can only imagine what this new edition will do to our time spent, but I don't begrudge the main reason Miranda and I are no longer together for selfish reasons like the ones I just mentioned. As I've told her, even before we began dating, she will make a fantastic parent; firm and steadfast with a commanding voice that booms through the office on a near daily basis, but every action and word has love behind it with a doe of gentleness to complete the package and offer assurance that Miranda will take life as it comes in raising her first child.

I won't beat around the bush about it, I just wasn't ready or even thinking about children after graduating from college. Miranda was, and I often prayed that she would reconsider given that we weren't even in our mid-twenties and only just focusing on our life as newlyweds. Frankly, I'm still not warm to the idea of having my own children even at my age. Obviously I have nothing against them, but it certainly is something to ponder considering Tara and Miranda have seen fit to designate me as one of their child's godparents, which I've accepted.

"Oh, Courtney," Tara interjects while I recollect once again, "Miranda gave me the short version while you were on hold. It'll be really sad to see you go, but I suppose duty calls."

"Indeed it does, but I don't plan on being gone forever."

"You're working with Ginger Foutley, right?"

"Yeah, you remember her, right? She was in town several years ago to make some Hollywood contacts."

"I interned for the company that published her memoir during my first year in school. For that I got a free copy and I loved it! I felt like I relived my childhood pitfalls. I can't wait to read her novel." The feeling is mutual, Tara, but I don't think Miranda wanted to hear much about Ginger at that point. Before I can even respond, Miranda says, 'Yeah, yeah.' I'm willing to bet the farm that there was an accompanying eye roll to go along with her interjection.

I should pause to note a few quick points here. Miranda met Tara six years ago during a law school alumni luncheon at USC planned by the sophomore class. She is 26 and works as a private intellectual property attorney. Miranda got Tara's card under the guise of potential business opportunities and Hollywood contacts she knew from me, but it turned out to be a smokescreen-in part, at least. Indeed, Miranda got her in touch with companies to intern and learn her craft. Beyond that, however, for those who believe in attractive forces at work, Miranda simply would not be denied. She kept it casual for about a month or two, both of them meeting for business around either lunch or snacks, but she eventually opened up to Tara about her feelings which led her to neither rejection nor affirmation, but to ponder what to do for more than a month.

Miranda talked with concern to me about possibly being too forward with a twenty-year old seeing as she only got responses of 'I'm still thinking it over' and 'this came as quite the surprise', but it was unfounded as she called back and said she would like to date Miranda, 'but only in proper order'. When Miranda asked Tara what that meant, she elaborated by saying she had to meet her family and ensure them that she has the best of intentions with their daughter. Given they've been happily married for more than four years, it must have went well, though Miranda got an initial stern warning beforehand to clean up her decidedly colorful language and dress more business casual for the dinner at the Ortiz house, there were no issues and Miranda is very close to her in-laws, especially Tara's four brothers and one sister. Close enough that when her father Captain Randy Killgallen came to visit during the Ortiz family reunion, she chose that venue to propose to Tara and not back home in Connecticut.

"Listen. Concerning your situation," Miranda speaks, "I wanted us to make the most of what time we have left, so...do you want to come with us out to eat? We're having Thai food."

I'd love to, but, "I don't want to impose and...do you have a reservation?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Courtney," Tara tells me. "Your not imposing and yes, we did have a reservation, but it was for three. My mom can't make it because of an impromptu dinner party held by a co-worker."

"We don't want you to feel like a replacement, but..."

"Count me in, Miranda," I interject. "I haven't had Thai cuisine in a while." Well, that's part of the reason. The real truth of the matter is that I need my friends who've gone over and beyond for me. If I can get my mind off the fact that I haven't seen Ginger in more than eight years and forget about what Miranda won't let me let go, I should be fine. Yes, I did have a crush on Ginger, but that was so long ago it's a wonder why it even comes to mind. I've been married and divorced and Ginger is still married with a daughter as far as I know, so the issue of love should be one that has far more substance than adolescent admiration.

As long as I keep telling myself that, there should be no issue. This is not a time to be reminiscent. I'm a professional. I'm going back to Connecticut for business, to raise my credentials and gain a windfall increase in salary and benefits while working with a top author on the rise.

Time to get back into my meditation videos before I go home.

Focus on the main goal, Courtney. Come on, Courtney.

"Courtney...Courtney!"

I'm knocked out of my trance. "Oh! Sorry, Miranda. Did I miss something?"

"We'll pick you up from your apartment at 8:30! Is that okay?"

"Yeah, that's perfect. I'm sorry. I just spaced out there for a bit."

"No worries," Miranda responds. "Hey, I know you have a lot on your mind, so Tara and I will get off the phone and you just worry about having a good time with us tonight, okay?"

"Will do," I answer. "I'll see you two later." With that, they give me their goodbyes and I hang up the phone. Getting a look at the time on the screen of my phone I see that it is 7:30 p.m.

That will at least give me enough time to freshen up for tonight. Perhaps a cold shower is in order after the shock of this afternoon. Maybe from now until I go back home, it should be nothing but cold showers and meditation to hopefully keep me on the right path for this homecoming project.

If I mention the words 'three by five inches', maybe something else will come to mind, but index cards are probably at the top of the list, but I'll get to those in a bit. Never having the desire for an eight by eight cubicle, I traded it in for working a varied number of hours at home with either freelance writing or my second fictional novel, currently in the brainstorming process.

My workstation is tidy but not particularly overdone, featuring several boxes of my short story collection, memoir and drafts of my first fictional novel to send away for people who've asked for them. Along with that is a large bookshelf with some grammar books, an unabridged dictionary and a thesaurus along with several of my favorite books and classics from all worlds and walks of life. Hanging on the wall is my English and Psychology degrees from New York University, and pictures of family and friends. Off to the side is a stereo system featuring satellite radio as commercial-free instrumentals serve as a tremendous inspiration. On my desk sits pencils, pens, legal pad, a hole puncher, just a few of the aforementioned index cards inside of a case, a cordless phone, a tablet computer and laptop to take online notes and do research.

But not even that equipment is the first thing one notices when they step into my office. Hanging from the ceiling is what I call the Interwoven Web and it is a series of colorful index cards connected by either yarn or twine tied into holes punched in the cards. With this web, I take story points and character notes combining them to give me a benchmark to move stories I write forward and to drive the overall narrative. If I feel the need to push or pull a plot point later or earlier into a story, I simply move the cards to another section of the web, constantly marking off steps completed in the rough drafts, adding and taking away scenarios on cards where appropriate.

It's a most unique idea that came to me last year from my only child when she told me of a rare take-home assignment in kindergarten. Zola Kailani, whom we in the family call Kai, and her classmates had to pick different scenarios from a hat and determine five sequential actions that led to the activity they drew. Each step to their goal had to be specific and could be no greater than ten words in length. It encouraged the parents and children to ask questions back and forth about the best way to map out the scenario. For instance, one does not simply 'buy a new pair of shoes'. You have to first go to a shoe store, get measured for size, look for styles you like, try them on and finally figure out what you want to buy and then you can buy the shoes. I found it fascinating that Kai learned about these same things we did in creative writing courses in college. Granted, at NYU we had several more complex steps and were branching out into different paths and dimensions, but the idea was largely the same and to help her out, we used the index cards from her school supply list.

Yes, I pretty much stole the idea, but it's worked well for this next project I want to do about a young child who writes to his deceased mother and gets responses that cannot be explained. This is my story; one of many, in fact. I am Ginger Foutley-Patterson, an accomplished author, essayist, occasional journalist and now novelist with my first fictional work entitled, Why Blame When You Can Breathe? going on sale this October. I'm married to my high school sweetheart Darren Patterson, who owns and operates a series of health and athletic clubs in the New York Tri-State area known as Elements.

It's been both an exciting and rewarding time for me and my family since my short story collection sold over two million copies, but the perks of being a successful writer can run contrary to a desire to maintain and develop new and existing relationships. For instance, I know it's been a few weeks since I've spoken with either Dodie or Macie and years ago, we were as close as the Three Musketeers. Writing has a tendency to be like a jealous lover that does not care for being set off to the side for other pursuits and it shows. That often makes people question me with regard to the 'N' word; neglect, and I understand but resent the notion. It's not as if I go out of my way to do it, but I do this, cliched as it sounds, for the family and I've yet to find a method to write stories on their own.

Maybe I'm overreacting to recent events like Darren saying that I have to make time for what's most important. He's not out of order for saying that, to be honest, but I'm working towards that very goal. I just can't tolerate a formulaic approach to life, though I've found myself in one over the last five months as I've been shopping my novel after an issue with my previous publisher about the number of printed copies made for sale. That matter I ultimately settled without much trouble and no days in civil court. Nevertheless, it cut into serious writing time leaving me frayed at the edges and somewhat reclusive after feeling betrayed by people I thought I could trust.

After that ordeal, I initially shopped the novel around to various publishers and promoters. I soon found them coming to me after the success of other projects and found a suitor across the country in Los Angeles with tremendous credentials and a knack for adapting written works into movies and television shows through their Hollywood connections. I have no idea how to navigate that jungle, so I've put in a lot of money to have an expert public relations liaison come to my hometown and personally work with me in preparation for the launch of the book and any subsequent media deals that may come down the pipeline. As I've told my family, if I can get one movie deal from this, I can retire to other projects and they will get more of me very soon.

Seldom heard at the doorway to my office is a knock, but usually that means that either one or both of the most precious people in my life has come home. "Come in!" I say and in comes a red-headed girl a shade above four feet tall with her backpack across her shoulders and a few sheets of paper behind her back. Kai has just come back from school this Friday and on the advice of Darren I've promised her a 'girl's weekend' with no writing on my end if she got a "B" or better on her math test.

I get up from my seat. "Kai! How are you?"

"I'm okay, mommy."

"So...how did it go? Will we be having our weekend or studying our subtraction drills for the next few days?"

She has this pout on her face that my mom, stepfather and brother always fall for, but I've learned to know better. Kai then sways her hips left and right before saying, "Well, mommy. I'm sorry..." and then she pulls out the papers to show me the 98 percent and large letter 'A' in red ink. Before I can even sigh in great relief, she concludes her explanation, saying, "that I couldn't get a perfect score, but...it was a speed test. I don't want to scribble numbers down that the teacher can't read. You taught me that."

Shaking my head, I get up from my seat with a smile, kneel down and give Kai a hug and a kiss assuring her, "It's all right, sweetheart. I know it wasn't easy, but you got the strategy down and I'm proud of you. This means that you have me for the weekend and I promise you, Kai; no writing or anything to do with my stories until Monday morning, you understand?"

"Yes, ma'am," she smiles back to me. "I...I'll let you know what I want to do when we have dinner. I just can't wait to show daddy," she tells me. "He got me the subtraction flash cards and they really helped me. Thank you for your help, too, mommy."

"Oh, of course. I'm always here to help, no matter what it is you need. I know things may seem busy for me or like I don't have enough time, but I want you to know, I will always have time for you, Kai. You hear me?"

"Yes, ma'am," she answers as I hear the cordless phone ringing. Getting up from the floor, I check the caller ID and see my husband's name and number on the display.

Picking up the phone, I greet Darren who after asking me if I was all right and if Kai is home inquired, "Did FedEx come with the blueprints today?"

I reply, "Yeah, I put them in our closet for now."

"Were there three cylinders that came with the delivery?"

"Yes, there all here."

"Good to know, hon," he says. "Listen, I'll be a little late getting home tonight."

It's not annoying to hear those words these days. There's not much difference between Darren and I when it comes to our working lives besides where we work. I just wish that fact were more understood from his end, but I will admit to holding an advantage to primarily being home most of the time beyond method writing to get a feel of either exotic locations or to encapsulate myself like a hermit blocking out all distractions to push the writing process into high gear. I cringe at the thought of Kai not being able to present her test to Darren tonight but nevertheless ask, "How late do you think you'll be tonight?"

"Maybe an hour...hour and a half at the most. There's been a delay with some in our team getting to Rhode Island with our updated proposal to potential investors. Apparently a manager ran into a glitch with outdated software on his end and needs some top-down assistance over the phone. At least now that I know our center layouts in Long Island are here, I can start scouting locations either Monday or...if a certain someone did well on her test, I can head out early with the crew and leave the ladies of my life to their own devices."

Staring down at my daughter I see her hop in anticipation and find myself unable to hold it in much longer, but knowing she has to deliver this news. "You want to speak with her and find out?"

"Of course."

"Okay, hang on," I say before handing the phone to Kai who runs off to speak with her father extolling her work, saying, "Daddy! Daddy, you won't believe the grade I got on my test." Beyond that, I hear quick footsteps running up the stairs and I can't help but laugh at Kai's eagerness and boldness that I'm certain comes from a unique combination of Darren and I.

I'd go through hell and back for that girl. Darren knows it's true and as I wind down the promotional aspect of this novel, he'll know it will have been worth it. I'll have 100 percent of my girl and man, no excuses or exceptions.

Oh, that reminds me. On the menu for tonight I have salmon casserole, spinach creamed with Greek yogurt and hot water cornbread. Getting up from my seat, I knock on the wall leading to the stairs and tell Kai to "Wash up and help me with dinner when you're finished, all right?"

I get a call of "Yes, mom," from upstairs and proceed to getting my ingredients together in the kitchen for a Friday night special before I'm all but certain to have two days or so of eating out with Kai.

There's no getting around it but the reality is that when you do things yourself, they are considerably more rewarding. Much like my writing, nothing can compare to a home-cooked meal and preparing it with those you love. Like not finding a method to write on my own, no one has been able to replicate the homemade meal in prepackaged form and perhaps that's for the best in a world resorting to more and more automation and instant gratification.

Here's to less of that feeling and more time to slow down and enjoy life as it comes. As Darren expands the health clubs, my novel takes off and Kai continues to learn and grow, our lives have never been busier but never been more fruitful either. Even with some glaring issues, I have a loving family and a great home.

Could I ask for much more? I certainly don't want to be greedy, but I always want to strive for better in life.

Don't we all?

I don't make it a priority to malign anyone using my platform, so I'll take a shot at myself first and then go forward. There have been personal issues of my life of a nature I wish not to get into here that caused this delay, however with the time I have, the words have come through for this story in particular this chapter.

I had every intention of releasing this chapter several weeks ago, but I've attempted for only the second time writing fan fiction to use a beta. The primary reason for that was because of some issues I had with keeping some character traits for the story given that several of the last episodes never aired in my country leaving me with mostly the junior high arc to work with and this story projects twenty years from that time. Obviously things change from that standpoint.

I haven't heard from my beta in more than 30 days. I still want one because I'm not perfect and just made last-second modifications to this chapter. I also understand busyness like the next guy, but I really wanted this chapter out soon to establish the two mains and to keep this story active.

Plus in chapter three for 'As Told By Ginger' fans, you know episodes had subplots featuring the younger kids. Well, that will happen in chapter three, but instead of scheming and sabotage of the weird and strange variety, the mission is changing the world for the better. It's not as glamorous as it sounds, but Carl, Hoodsey and Blake have their own role in this story.

Stay tuned, please read and review until next time!