Wait, what? What am I doing? Oh...working!

Hey, y'all.

The last few days have been kind of a run-on haze. Sorry I neglected you, but I've been terribly busy. "Doing what?" you ask. Well, aside from feeding my family and taking the car to the shop and running everyone to and from work, and doing the grocery shopping, and finding time to wash a little laundry here and there, I've been working!

And not just any old job flippin' burgers, but actually doing a branch of my dream job. That's right, kids, Mama's currently engaged doing some new colors for Macon Man.

I've wanted to work in the comics industry since I was 12. I've always been into drawing and art, and since I was two years old, you couldn't hardly find me without a pencil or a crayon or a paint brush in my hand. Plus, my dad has been an avid reader and collector of comic books all his life, so there were always comics around the house. Heck, when I was five, my "imaginary friend" was Batman. I just never knew that people actually got paid to make comics, until my dad started sharing his comics magazines with me; there were interviews and industry news and how-tos in there that opened up a whole new world for me. I decided I wanted to be a comic book artist (a penciler, specifically, at the time), and started drawing sequential pieces, and when I was 12 my dad helped me put together a portfolio and took me to my first comic convention. It's been off into the wild blue yonder since then, pretty much.

My husband and I actually moved to the Atlanta area to advance my career. I dunno if you know it, but Atlanta's probably the second or third most poppin' joint for comics creators; there are all kinds of studios and independent artists and writers here; most of the guys and gals who show up for Dragon*Con in the comics section are locals. It's a very exciting place for young up-and-coming artists, between The Cartoon Network and all the veterans available to one.

But jeezum pete is it a demanding career. Sure, you get to make your own schedule and work from home, but you bet your sweet ass you'll probably be working 12+ hours a day to make that cheddar and meet those deadlines. And trying to be a Fake Housewife on top of that? Bring me a glass of gin and stand the hell back. Here's what's been keeping me sane.

Mama's Tips for Managing a Busy Independent Schedule:

• Break it down into small tasks. You will go nuts if you don't. Crazy rampage nuts.
• On that note, make lists. A jillion lists. You'll feel accomplished as you cross off each item, and it will keep you on task.
• Schedule regular breaks. You gotta pee and eat, right? And if you spend too long on one task, you will find yourself getting burned out and missing the big picture.
• Make yourself stick to some kind of actual schedule. It's okay if it changes here and there; after all, most people have "weekday" and "weekend" schedules. And you gotta leave wiggle room for unforeseen non-work disasters. If you're the one at home all the time, guess who's taking the car to the shop?
• Go outside at least once a day, or you will turn into a horrible cave troll. And for that matter, get a little exercise daily.
• Designate a work space or work state. You love your family and friends, I know you do, but they need to know that just because you're home doesn't mean you're always available. You need to concentrate like mad for big chunks of the day, and like it or not, that means they need to leave you alone.
• It ain't a hobby any more; it's a job. Treat it like one. Be professional. Be responsible. Be accountable.
• Take the time to get dressed. Seriously, you would not believe how much more productive you will be in a pair of jeans and a comfortable but professional-looking sweater than in those ratty PJs. Slippers are always okay, though.
• Figure out what you need in order to concentrate, but don't let it turn into excuses not to work. You need your Pandora channel set to play mellow jazz hip-hop? All right (it's really a perfect working music, I kid you not). You need 30 minutes of cardio before you can get crackin'? Cool. But don't spend an hour looking for your lucky bobblehead, or rearranging your pencils, before you'll sit down and do something.
• Set realistic productivity goals for yourself, and surpass them as often as you can.

If you find, though, that you wind up looking up from your work and thinking, "Hmm, maybe I should goof off on the Internet for a bit...nah, screw it, I'd rather be doing this," you might have found yourself a job worth sticking to.

What Mama Likes, Vol. 1

Jesus Christ on a whole wheat cracker. I really want to be an informed citizen, but it seems like every time I read or listen to the news of current events in the U.S., I develop a strong desire to have the ability to make my own head explode. I may speak at greater length about this later, but I'm just too upset right now.

So instead, here is a list of a few simple material things that made me happy today.

Pottery Barn pillar candles. I flippin' love candles for decorating. Any time you just want some nice, low, cozy and/or romantic light, nothing beats a lovely array of candles. I like grabbing interesting scents, and also just having a stock of big ol' candles that will burn long and last me a while. Pottery Barn's unscented pillars are on sale right now, and I was surprised at what a good price they were. Big-ass pillar candle for $6? Heck yeah. I mean, Target's candles of similar size are twice as much. Plus, they have free catalogs, so now I have material I can cut for my "decorating ideas" book.

Cover Girl's new Queen line. A line of products aimed at darker complexions? Color me relieved! And represented by Queen Latifah, no less? A gorgeous plus-size black woman being marketed as the face of beauty? Unlimited excitement!

Charming Charlie. I know you can't tell by the website, but this is largely an accessories store. The reason I like Charming Charlie is because I flippin' love ridonkulous, brightly-colored baubles that occasionally border right on tacky. And CC is stuffed to bursting with exactly that. Thank blob they organize everything by color. Also, nothing in there is out-of-question expensive; I don't think they have any jewelry pieces or sets above $25, so if you want to get a couple of things to jazz up an outfit, you can do it without going over budget.

So there you go--those are a couple of things that Mama likes. Don't forget to vote, and I mean in all the elections; local, state, and national.

Apparently My Totem Animal is...Oprah?

Okay, just had to share this. I generally have pretty vivid and wacky dreams, but it's rare that I feel like I'm being given a message of any kind, or even that my subconscious is trying to process something about my waking life. Last night was different.

I dreamt that my husband and I were chilling in some kind of rec center, waiting for something, when Oprah burst in with a camera crew and her staff. Apparently she was on some kind of "real women, real issues" tour where she just showed up at random places and surveyed real women live on camera. She plunked down at our table without warning and announced that, "Today we're going to be talking to Real Women about issues like health, diet, and holiday weight gain. What's your name, darlin'?" I gave her my name and she wrote it down on a form in what looked like a well-traveled back issue of her magazine. "And how much do you weigh?"

I found my Southern sensibilities quite thrown off; I hadn't expected Dream Oprah to be quite so brazenly forward. She kept asking me questions about my weight and eating habits, and, as is often the case in dreams, I couldn't do either of the things I really wanted to do--either get away or take her to task for her promotion of anti-scientific, quack-medical bullshit that's destroying people's health in America. Dream Oprah completely Mom Voiced me. And she didn't believe any of my answers to her questions about my damn eating habits. She just kept looking at me with that knowing look that moms and teachers and sitcom black women can get--"Mmmm-hmm...yeah right, honey; keep lying to yourself."

I'll admit it; I don't have the world's best diet, and I pretty much never frickin' exercise. It's not like I eat McDonald's for every meal. I do manage to get some fresh fruit and veg in there, more than one serving a day, even, and I try to stick to lean proteins. I avoid frying a good amount of the time, and I drink water or orange juice almost exclusively. I do eat refined sugars, though, and gad help me, I love booze. Yes, I should eat more whole grains and vegetables, and I really should get on some kind of exercise regimen. Even if I'm a "good size" (thanks a lot, judgmental media, for putting value requirements on something as arbitrary and variable as body size and shape!) I'm not truly healthy, because I don't do enough cardio.

So I guess I'll start making a better effort to be healthy. Okay, Dream Oprah, are you satisfied? Get off my ass now, ya billion-dollar-havin' bitch.

Stay Classy, Georgia

Well, we're down to the wire with moving preparations; the husband and I decided some time ago to forsake the Big City of Atlanta and head back to our own familiar burg of Asheville, and let me tell ya, I can't wait.

Don't get me wrong, ATL; there are things I will definitely miss. Your abundance of authentic ethnic cuisine; your super-sized Asian grocery stores and farmer's markets, where fresh produce and spices could be had for retarded cheap; your presence of black people in positions of power and influence; and yes, your plethora of big box stores. I liked knowing that I could go back next week and get the same bowl and cup set if I decided I needed more, and that I didn't have to make a snap decision to purchase because the item in question was one-of-a-kind, handmade, limited edition. I do support art, artists, and artisans, and I love that Asheville feels the same way, but I'm just not ready to create my home around hand-thrown, non-dishwasher-safe tableware yet. Especially not if there are to be young children around any time soon.

But I digress. There are things I am all too ready to get away from, and one of them is just...Georgia.

Georgia, darling...you are fucked up. You're like a young heiress to some old cotton fortune who moved into a trailer and started cooking meth, but still for some reason shows up for church every Sunday and has the audacity to be judgmental of the interracial gay couple you saw on Bravo yesterday. Whether it's barring people from buying beer on Sundays, or a school board so inept at getting their shit together that the entire system is threatened with loss of accreditation, or an insistence that underage prostitutes should be criminally prosecuted, you just keep showing your true colors, and, girl, they could use a wash in some color-safe Cheer.

Georgia, I am begging you: lay off the meth and the Jesus creeping, you're making us all look bad, and you're embarrassing yourself. Seriously.

I'm glad that Sunday alcohol sales looks like it's going to get a referendum soon. What the heck reason is there to shut down the beer aisle on Sunday? Oh...wait...religious motivation? Separation of church and state, my friends. I don't care if you think "people oughta be in church on Sunday, 'cause it's the lord's day;" not everyone believes as you do, and some of us don't believe at all. Hell, maybe I believe in Thor, and since mead is the beverage of the gods of Asgard, I think it ought to be mandatory to drink mead on Thursday, or Thor's Day, as it was called before it was corrupted by unbelievers. Doesn't mean I'm right, and it doesn't mean it should be official legislation, because it would be infringing on other people's rights in order to promote my religious agenda.

And the whole child prostitute thing...what the heck, Georgia? Seriously, what is wrong with you? "If these 12-year-old rape victims don't get thrown in jail when we catch them, their pimps might start to think that it's okay to rape and prostitute children, and other kids might get the idea that sex is consequence-free!" Not even kidding about that line of reasoning. Wish I was. But unfortunately, I'm not. Really, pimps would stop pimping if we punished their prostitutes, guys. Oh, and when kids see middle-schoolers walking the streets as hookers and getting raped and beaten up, they get the idea that sex is consequence-free, so they should just start having it. This is the attitude of the Christian Right here in Georgia; way to beat some truly sad victims with the ol' Bible belt, guys.

Asheville has its own set of egregious woo-woo (I swear to Thor, if I hear the phrase, "You should try some homeopathic medicine" one more time, I'm getting my hammer). But the kind of dyed-in-the-wool crazy that comes with the brand of Bible-thumping Jesus creeping that seems so prevalent here is just so much more offensive to me.

Anyway; I'll leave off ranting for today. Mama's got some packing to do.

Because Chicken Soup Can Fix Anything

One day I'm going to write a manifesto on how to argue without fighting and actually get your problem solved. But today is not that day; today is the day I talk about chicken soup.

If you're new to Fake Housewifing, and you're embarking on the adventure of cooking, I have two life hacks for you: get a crock pot, and buy your chicken with the bones in. I know, I know, boneless, skinless chicken breast is where it's at. But look at the prices sometime. And then look at the chicken breast with the bones and skin. You can get the same meat yield, but you'll pay a lot less per pack. Heck, I got me a bag of 16 chicken legs at the Ingles for $5 last week; you can't beat that with a stick, and you can freeze what you don't use right away.

"But Mama," I hear you cry, "isn't it going to be a lot of extra work de-boning and skinning all those chicken legs, just so you can cook them?" Heck no. Besides, I'm a Fake Housewife now; I've got an extra 5 minutes and a secret weapon: my crock pot.

The crock pot, my friends, is a wonderful kitchen tool, especially if you don't know how to cook. Just chuck you some meat and veggies in there, cover with broth and/or soup, and turn that sucker on. You can leave and go to work, or go run your errands, or take a nap, or get shit-faced drunk and fall down the stairs if you want; point is, you can just wander away, and when you get back, you done cooked something. It's that easy. And the thing about slow-cooking is, as long as you keep your liquid levels up, your meat will basically only get more soft, tender, and juicy as time goes on. This is why the crock pot is perfect for bone-in chicken: cook it thoroughly, and you can literally slide the bones out.

So here's y'all a soup recipe:

Mama's Creamy Chicken Soup
For chicken:
6 chicken drumsticks, bone in
4 vegetable bouillon cubes
5 chicken bouillon cubes
About 6-8 cups of warm water, depending on the size of your crock pot
(Or equivalent amount of chicken broth)
1 medium yellow onion, chopped
3 cloves garlic, chopped
A touch of sage and pepper
Meat thermometer.

For soup:
3 cups milk (or soy milk)
1/2 cup white wine
1 can (14 oz.) condensed cream of chicken soup
1 can (14 oz.) condensed cream of mushroom or golden mushroom soup
2-3 cups delicious chicken water from your crock pot
Cooked chicken from crock pot
An indiscriminate buttload of fresh or frozen soup veggies (carrots, broccoli, cauliflower, peas). Just however many you can fit in your pot.

You can cook your chicken a day ahead of time if need be. Just take all the ingredients from Part 1 and put them in your crock pot. Except for the meat thermometer; you'll need that uncooked. Turn your crock pot on high and go watch two or three episodes of Deadwood. Check your chicken with the meat thermometer and see whether it's done yet. If not, practice your new cowboy profanity and watch some more Deadwood. Repeat until your chicken reaches the appropriate core temperature. You can let your chicken cool a bit before you handle it, or you can grab some tongs and a fork and go ahead and attack it. Either way, the skin should just slip right off, and the bones should slip right out, and then you can break up your meat into little chicken-soup-sized pieces. If you're moving forward to the soup right away, just stick the meat in a bowl in the fridge; if not, toss it in a Tupperware and put it in the fridge, and save about 4 cups of the chicken broth from your crock pot. Bonus points if you store it in a mason jar, but just make sure to refrigerate it.

When you're ready for soup, put your milk, wine, condensed soup, and chicken water into a large pot and either stir it or whisk it until it's nice and smooth. Then add your veggies. You can add in your chicken later, since it's already cooked and will just need to warm up. Turn your heat on medium-low and let that concoction slowly come up to a near-boil, stirring vigilantly. Reduce your heat and add your chicken, then keep stirring for a few more minutes, just until it's nice and serving hot. Then serve it. If you feel inclined, make you some cheese toast to go with it.

Mmm. Now that's something great for a rainy February evening.

[Sigh] No, the Kindle is NOT Going to Destroy Books

I keep hearing this hysteria popping up over and over. "Now that we have e-books, books are dead! Game over, man, game over! Oh the humanity!" Conversely, I also hear this weird false dichotomy, all-or-nothing approach from book purists. "I still like print books! That's why I'll never get a Nook!"

People. Hear me out now, because Mama's only going to say this once (okay, that's a damn lie and I admit it; I'll say it every chance I get, and I will forget I said it to you and repeat myself endlessly, like a broken record). If you buy an e-book reader, or receive one for some pagan gift-giving holiday, it does not mean you have to take all your books out to the backyard and burn them. You're not limited to choosing one method of reading for the rest of your life. You can buy your hardcovers and your paperbacks and sit by the fire smoking your pipe and read them...and when you go on a long trip with limited suitcase space, you're allowed to take your Kindle. You really won't be forced to pick one and declare an allegiance, I swear.

And I know that there's still a fear out there. That if you buy an eBook reader, you'll be endorsing the fall of books, voting with your wallet, so to speak. That you'll be mistaken for one of those people who just wants the ease and convenience of a download, and doesn't appreciate tradition, or heritage, or even new book smell. By gum, you'll be a digital person, a fast-paced, jet-setting hipster with no patience, and no appreciation for history! You might even forget how to cook! You might wake up one day and find yourself on the Google! The horror!

Do not fear. Using an e-book reader does not mean you will start viewing books as ironic, archaic tchotchkes.

But what about CDs?! Electronic music downloads on them Internets have killed the CD already! How long before electronic text downloads kill our books?!

This is really a valid question, one I'd like to address at greater length and lesser sarcasm. Yep, the whole CD thing is pretty well over, IMO, and yes, it is largely thanks to the easy availability of downloadable music. But this is very different from the relationship between books and e-books.

The goal of both CDs and MP3/MP4 downloads is the information itself. You want to listen to the music they contain. The CD does not really offer many benefits that the download doesn't have, and it comes with a lot of additional drawbacks. Yes, you have a physical copy of your music, which you can use as a backup in the event of terminal hard drive failure. But that's nothing you can't circumvent by simply making backup copies of your downloaded music on writable CDs, or even on a portable hard drive. And those bulk packs of CD-Rs cost a lot less than a CD album. The CD album also may come with tracks you don't like, and will never listen to, so the net average cost of the tracks you do want, and will listen to, becomes much higher. $15 for an album where you'll listen to 10 out of 15 tracks? $1.50 per song that you'll actually use. Even if you pay for music via Amazon or iTunes, you could get those 10 tracks for $10 at 99 cents each, and save yourself $5 plus a trip to the CD store. Downloads offer instant delivery of exactly the information you require, at a lower price and they're never out of stock.

So how does this differ from a book? You're after the information it contains, right? Well, yes and no. See, books serve more purposes than just a delivery system for information. As the book-smell fetishists will tell you, a book is sold as an experience as well as a body of information. Books are decorative, if nothing else. They fill a shelf and create an atmosphere in a home library. And they come in many levels of decorativeness--you can have that dog-eared copy of The Hobbit on your shelf and it'll do ya fine...but you can also have that over-sized, leather-bound, gold-leafed special edition with the thick, creamy pages. And that offers a truly different experience. Books appeal to the visual and tactile sensibilities in a way that CDs were never designed to.

If anything, books are much more like vinyl records, which are seeing an upsurge in popularity, even (perhaps especially) among younger audiences who did not even grow up in the era of vinyl's original popularity. Vinyl albums were, and are, marketed as an experience as well as an information medium. Vinyl offers the experience of hearing music in analog format; it offers collectability; it features album art on a scale that merits display, and therefore fulfills the visual aesthetic and decorative impulse. CD album art is of a scale and nature that leans more towards the disposable.

Book purists do have a solid point. But it's not that one format is superior to another; it's simply that books do serve a purpose, and appeal to a market, that e-books can't overtake. Yes, we will see drops in paper book sales. But books aren't going to disappear any time soon.