A World of Pure Imagination – Cape Comic Con


     Last month, my youngest daughters, my niece and her friend and I went to our first Comic Con.  It was fantastic!!  Located in Cape Girardeau, Missouri, The Osage Center was an awesome venue for such an event.  Parking was more than adequate, and the general atmosphere was one of friendliness.  The girls were all  wide-eyed with wonder and amusement, and I’ll admit to being just as impressed!  We spent the Saturday afternoon browsing and meeting authors and designers.  Everywhere you looked, cosplay ruled the day.  We had a blast checking out all of the costumes, and we decided we are definitely dressing for our next Comic Con.

     The vendors were diverse, as were the authors and artists.  As a mom, I was thrilled with the realization that not a single child that day seemed upset.  Not even once.  I can’t tell you how rare an event that is, in my experience.  I had the immense pleasure of introducing my female companions to a world where girls can be whomever they wish.  I was also humbled to meet great comic authors such as Gary Friedrich, author of Ghost Rider.  Later research revealed him to be a Cape native, which I found cool.  I also had the opportunity to meet several authors whose works I have now added to my reading list.  I will do a followup blog on them at a later date.

     Our first venture into the world of conventions assured me that this will be a family favorite for years to come.  Since Cape Con, we’ve been watching for other conventions closer to home.  I’m thankful to my Ma for surprising us with the day trip, it was a truly enjoyable experience, one we will surely repeat next year, for the entire weekend, since there was much more to explore that time didn’t allow for us. Such as meeting John Wesley Shipp, which was somewhat disappointing, but redeemed by purchasing a poster.  Without further ado, here are a few pictures from Cape Comic Con, April 16, 2015, enjoy. ;)

http://www.cape-con.com/

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gary_Friedrich

The groovyone

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Within 5 minutes of entering Cape Comic Con, we found Waldo!!!  Who knew he was down with angels in trench coats?
Within 5 minutes of entering Cape Comic Con, we found Waldo!!! Who knew he was down with angels in trench coats?

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The Lonely Road


gypsymamakas:

Reblogging this, because I think it’s a subject we should really try to bring into the light. Survivors of domestic violence cannot simply “get over it”, they need the support of friends and family long after the physical wounds have healed.

Originally posted on The Oracle of Grooviness:

Woke up on Mother’s Day, and to her great surprise,

Was something she’d never wanted: broken ribs and two black eyes.

Christmas and Valentine’s Day brought more of the same,

Bruises and bitemarks, stitches and awful names.

They ask why she doesn’t leave, why she would “put up with that”?

Guess they don’t realize this isn’t a lover’s spat.

She’s not allowed to use the phone, the money, the car,

If she knew he couldn’t follow, oh, she would run so far.

Years went by before she found the nerve,

The law didn’t deliver justice, only papers would they serve.

She didn’t see it coming, this life after the abuse,

The spite from those around her, the friend that they would choose.

It often confused her, how far she could fall,

She’d done what they’d suggested and left after all.

Was this really better; broken, alone, and scared?

Where were…

View original 388 more words

The Lonely Road


Woke up on Mother’s Day, and to her great surprise,

Was something she’d never wanted: broken ribs and two black eyes.

Christmas and Valentine’s Day brought more of the same,

Bruises and bitemarks, stitches and awful names.

They ask why she doesn’t leave, why she would “put up with that”?

Guess they don’t realize this isn’t a lover’s spat.

She’s not allowed to use the phone, the money, the car,

If she knew he couldn’t follow, oh, she would run so far.

Years went by before she found the nerve,

The law didn’t deliver justice, only papers would they serve.

She didn’t see it coming, this life after the abuse,

The spite from those around her, the friend that they would choose.

It often confused her, how far she could fall,

She’d done what they’d suggested and left after all.

Was this really better; broken, alone, and scared?

Where were all those people who had insisted how much they cared?

Every sound at night terrified her,  the nasty remarks cut just as deep.

Sometimes she wakes screaming, he still chokes her in her sleep.

Now they say, just get over it, move on, let it go.

She’s told to rebuild her life, but how she doesn’t know.

Why had no one  told her how long it would take to heal,

All the faith he had shattered, the joy he could still steal.

Did they think she’d just suddenly be alright?

After she’d tiptoed from the darkness, edged into the light.

Looking back, she can’t help but shake her head and sigh,

She wears a purple ribbon, but no one seems to know why.

They told her if she left, they’d always have her back,

She didn’t get support, in fact, she didn’t get jack.

From somewhere inside herself, and place she didn’t know she had,

She’s drawn strength to survive this too, pretending she’s not sad.

No one wants to hear her story, why must they choose a side?

Afterall, it was years ago; doesn’t she have any pride?

He’ll still be there on holidays, although now with someone new,

No one seems to remember all the horrors she went through.

She still must send her children, the courts say he has rights,

Because he didn’t hurt  them, during any of those fights.

Somehow it’s still her fault, even after so much time,

Now she knows which was really the bigger crime.

If he’d managed to kill her, then they’d have been dismayed,

She’d lived, she survived, but no one’s throwing a parade.

The next time that you see her, consider what you say,

Your condescension wounds, your attitude dismays.

Please remember, she’s still mending, and it may take awhile,

Help her with honest kindness, friendship and a smile.

She may have made it out of the lion’s den alone,

But she needs you to be there, to still pick up the phone.

Don’t assume because the hitting is over, the journey has ended,

Support her even after the scars have faded, the broken bones are mended.

For this is the hardest part of the road, learning to live again.

For more information about Domestic Violence, and how you can help, please visit:

http://www.domesticviolence.org/

http://www.ovw.usdoj.gov/domviolence.htm

http://domesticviolencestatistics.org/domestic-violence-statistics/