September Reading 2022

Dragon Girls: Quinn the Jade Treasure Dragon by Maddy Mara

Come Back Amelia Bedelia by Peggie Parish

We’re Amazing 1, 2, 3 by Leslie Kimmelman

Froggy’s Day With Day by Jonathan London

Wake Up Mama by Hope Vestergaard

Pinkalicious the Princess of Pink Slumber Party by Victoria Kann

Pinkalicious and the Pink Hat Parade by Victoria Kann

Pinkalicious Flower Girl by Victoria Kann

Pinkalicious Soccer Star by Victoria Kann

Darker Ages by Aron Lewes

Little Red Gliding Hood by Tara Lazar

Little Red Rhyming Hood by Sue Fliess

Twinkle Twinkle I Love You by Steve Metzger

Rainbow Wakes Up by Debbie Lovestone

Alice the Fairy by David Shannon

Together We Grow by Susan Vaught

Knight Owl by Christopher Denise

Pet Shop Revolution by Ava Juan

Big Al by Andrew Clement

The Ikabog by J.K. Rowling

Goddess Girls: Pandora the Curious by Joan Holub and Suzanne Williams

The Tale of Peter Rabbit by Beatrix Potter

The Scarecrow’s Hat by Ken Brown

Gus Was a Friendly Ghost by Jane Thayer

Scooby Doo Shiny Spooky Knights by Gail Herman

Mr. Greedy Goes Shopping by Rodger Hargreaves

Little Miss Sunshine and the Wicked Witch by Rodger Hargreaves

Where Are My Books by Debbie Ridpath Ohi

Boy Soup by Loris Lesynski

National Geographic Coral Reefs

National Geographics Manatee

Shopkins Babysitting Blues

Raven and the Box by Terri Mack

The tale of the Pie and the Patty-Pan by Beatrix Potter

The Berenstain Bears Out West by Stan & Jan Berenstain

Miss Bindergarten Gets Ready for Kindergarten by Joseph Slate

Scooby Doo the Surf Scare by Michelle Nagler

Not Quite Snow White by Ashley Franklin

Dragon Masters Rise of the Earth Dragon by Tracy West

My New Friend Is So Fun! by Mo Willems

A Day of Discouragement

Today I feel defeated as I lay in bed unable to cope with the pain involved in getting up.

For a few years now I’ve felt as though things in my life were becoming more and more of a struggle. I had so many things I could blame that upon. My mental health, my physical health, the financial state we were in, the lack of communication between people, etcetera. Despite this I always tried to look positively towards the future, I’d make goals and plans and begin to work towards them.

Things have been tight financially for us. Prior to purchasing our home we spent money frivolously on things we wanted at the moment but could always make our bills. Recently paying our bills has become a strained game of where the funds will come from. But there was a light at the end of the tunnel. I would be able to work more once both my children were in school. I could get back into making my own costume items for the costume shop, I could take on more shifts with Skip (as long as my body remained mobile) and we could get ourselves out of what feels like an endless circle.

For the last two or so weeks, I had a bad feeling about going out of my evening Skip shifts. It gave me anxiety attacks that would keep me home. I now feel like it was a premonition or a guardian angel or something giving me a warning that something was about to happen. Last night I ignored that nagging feeling, hopped into my car, and made a few deliveries. I wanted to go home but figured one last delivery would be okay to do.

Instead, I ended up in an accident. The arrow for me to turn left onto the highway turned green and I began my turn, meanwhile a woman drove straight through and we collided. Airbags deployed, my car crunched up, I could see a yellow-white smoke and I felt shaken. I have yet to get the dashcam footage out of my car but fortunately all people involved appear to be alright, although in shock. I ended up with the worst of the physical damage with a swollen scratched lump on my forearm/wrist area where the airbag must have hit me.

The car is probably totaled. We have two years of payments left on it and I had planned on beginning to save up for our next vehicle this autumn/winter.

I have so much to figure out, such as: what I’m going to do for income now that I don’t have a vehicle and the buses around my home come around only a few times a day; how I’ll get my children to and from school as it takes them between 45 minutes to an hour to walk to the school from our home; how I’ll attend appointments so I can get my disability application together; and will I even be able to get a replacement vehicle with the way costs are rising?

If it were only the car being damaged, perhaps I wouldn’t feel like this today. But we’ve had a slew of ‘bad luck or fortune’ recently. Deaths of friends and family, our deep freeze breaking down causing us to throw away hundreds of dollars worth of food that went bad, the instability of my health, a hose bib that leaks, an infestation of rodents that our indoor cats have been leaving randomly around the house as gifts, and so on.

So for today only, I am allowing myself to feel the frustrations, the anger, the discouragement, while I attempt to figure out how to move on from the issues bogging me down. Tomorrow I will look for opportunities and positive things in life.


I am feeling like I can be productive today like I am vibing on some higher plane and that I can accomplish anything. So I put on my bell-sleeved orange top, and elephant bell jeans, a geode necklace, and some dangly earrings, and put on some nature sounds in the background. I got the kids ready for school and then found that doing dishes wasn’t so easy.

According to my schedule, I’m supposed to be writing or working on my website stuff today, so after dropping the kids off at school I’ve decided to do just that. I am behind on getting my costume shop’s stock up on the website after having taken inventory of our items. I’ll begin that as soon as I’m done here. Not everything will be going up though – as I don’t plan to put event sales items onto the website.

And after that, I’ll work on finishing up Kevin and my most recent short story. I am really enjoying this fantasy world that we are creating, we are struggling to find the time to write together though as I tend to work evenings while he works during the day. We plan to have our short out some time at the beginning of October.

Back to School

Both of the kids are back to school now. Sanura started yesterday and Zenobia had her first (half) day today. I spent the time they were in class washing dishes and laundry, catching up on emails and communications, and going through the costume shop stock to determine what will be on sale at Penti-con and KamCon next month. I felt so productive.

August Reading 2022

Up on Bob by Mary Sullivan

Benji, the Bad Day, and Me by Sally Pia

Stretchy and Beanie by Judy Schachner

Batty by Sarah Dyer

Gifts From the Heart by Victoria Osteen

Queen of Klutz by Samantha Garman

Sceptic in Salem: An Episode of Murder by Fiona Grace

Little Critter: Just a Little too Little by Mercer Mayer

Bunnies Are For Kissing by Allia Zobel Nolan

Tacky the Penguin by Helen Lester

Gus and the Baby Ghost by Jane Thayer

Mrs. Blackhat by Cloe and Mick Inkpet

Fletcher and Zenobia by Victoria Chess

Wolverine and Little Thunder by Alan Syliboy

Greta and the Giants by Zoe Tucker

Little Critter: Just a Snowman by Mercer Mayer

Pink by Nan Gregory

Batman Battle in Metropolis by John Sazaklis

Count on the Subway by Paul Dubois Jacobs and Jennifer Defender

Clifford the Small Red Puppy by Norman Bridwell

A Sweet Passover by Lesléa Newman

Now You See Me, Now You Don’t by Patricia Hegarty

DewDrop by Katie O’Neill

Hungry for Numbers by Etienne Delessert

Adder Up a Ladder by Russell Punter & David Semple

Robinson by Peter Sis

Salsa Lullaby by Jen Arena

The Stone Thrower by Jael Ealey Richardson

Sing a Song by Kelly Starling Lyons

The Barn Owls by Tony Johnston

Alfie by Thyra Heder

All the Colors of the Earth by Sheila Hamanaka

Don’t Open This Book by Andy Lee

Pirates of the Caribbean Jack Sparrow: The Coming Storm by Rob Kidd

Percy Jackson and the Olympians : The Last Olympian by Rick Riordan

1, 2, 3 Salish Sea A Pacific Northwest Counting Book by Nikki McClure

Saturday by Oge Mora

Moosestache by Margie Platini

Once Upon a Slime by Andy Maxwell

Sulwe by Lupita Nyong’o

The Frazzle Family Finds a Way by Ann Bonwill & Stephen Gammel

Food From Farms Bread! Life on a Wheat Farm by Ruth Owen

Born Curious 20 Girls Who Grew Up to Be Awesome Scientists by Martha Freeman

Webstore Temporarily Down

I’ve temporarily removed the costume shop from the website as we’ll need to do a complete stock inventory and update after Kelowna Comic Con ends. Once our inventory is done you can expect to see sales/ discounts on various items at our next two events: Penti-Con (October 21 – 23) and Kam-Con (October 28 -30). These sales will not be online.

I plan to have the web-store to be back up before September 15th. I know that seems like a long time for an activity that should just take a day but we are in the process of relocating our inventory during this time as well.

My Journey of Mental Health: D.I.D. Diagnosis

One thing that I find so difficult with having dissociated identity disorder is that there is so much misinformation out there about this disorder. It has only been the last couple of years that I’ve started opening up about what I go through. Partially because I didn’t have a solid diagnosis, that I do now have, and also due to fear. People love to assume the worst of others and that puts people like me in a very vulnerable place. I really hope that sharing my experiences candidly will help more people than it causes stress for myself and my family.

When I tell the non-supportive or un-educated people in my life that I have been diagnosed with this the first thing they often say to me is, “I know you and have never witnessed these ‘others’ you have. So you cannot have this”; “Are you sure it’s not just schizophrenia or something”; or they talk about how they “have parts of themselves” that want different things, invalidating what I’m going through while they try to relate to what I’m telling them; or I get told that it’s “just an overactive imagination because how could you possibly have a non-human part”. Usually, I just let them spout off their rhetoric and then decide if it’s worth explaining more or not. Often it isn’t worth it.

Dissociative Identity Disorder is supposed to be covert. About 3 to 4% of the world’s population has a dissociative disorder; that’s about the same amount of people who have naturally occurring red/orange hair. Many of the people who have these kinds of disorders aren’t even aware that their mind has compartmentalized so drastically and those who do find out, usually find out after they are done puberty. This doesn’t mean that there aren’t people who know earlier than that, nor does it mean that if they suspect others reside within them that they’re faking it. It purely means that the brain is trying to protect.

To be diagnosed with D.I.D. (not O.S.D.D. etc) a person must have two or more distinct personality states (a.k.a. alters); have gone through repeated childhood trauma before the age of roughly 8; have experienced dissociative amnesia; have a disruption in autobiographical memory – which would include difficulties remembering everyday events, important personal information, and/or traumatic events.

My personal journey of finding out I have D.I.D. started when I was a young child. Like many children who were abused, I had imaginary friends. The difference was that mine were never a figure outside of myself. They never took up an extra seat at the table, but they would talk to me inside my head, like thoughts that had different voices and opinions. They never made me ignore the people around me who wanted to hang out but they could convince my body to do things that I didn’t want to do.

I’m not sure when I stopped paying attention to these imaginary friends, but up until that time I would talk to them regularly, both as thoughts in my head and aloud. When I told my adoptive parents, as an adult, that it was possible that I could have a dissociative disorder, stories began to come up that made my suspicions seem a bit more real.

For example:
One time while at the family cottage I was playing alone in the small bedroom behind the kitchen. My adoption father overheard what sounded like three or four different people in the room with me. It did not sound like one little girl playing alone. So he opened the door to investigate, thinking I had found some friends and invited them over, what he found was me, alone, talking to myself in full conversation.

Another example:
I got in trouble a lot as a child for lying. All I ever wanted was to be believed, lying wasn’t something that I purposely did until I found that no one believed a thing I was saying anyway. If telling a fib would get me out of more trouble, then okay, I’ll take the blame for my friend’s parents claiming I said I was allergic to cats. I’ve never been allergic to cats, I have no recollection of ever telling someone that I was allergic to them and am not sure why I ever would as I love the animal but this is something that happened to me.

These kinds of incidents happened all the time to me growing up. I thought it was just normal to have a crappy memory and to hold conversations with one’s own thoughts. I continually thought I must be stupid, but my grades showed otherwise.

As a teenager, my family moved across the country and it was really challenging for me. I would ‘wake-up’ on the drive to a friend’s house, or sitting in a pew at church, or inside a grocery store and have no clue where I was or who the people around me were. I learned quickly to pretend I knew what was going on, and I would figure things out as I went. I journaled religiously while this was happening. I would write down descriptions of people, and actions that were taken by others and myself, and the places I found myself. I would leave myself notes and became obsessed with writing lists to ensure that I would stop forgetting to do the things I needed to do. I felt like I had no control over what was happening to me. I broke down multiple times stating that something was wrong with me and that I needed help. My family doctor told my parents and I that I was just depressed, and I was, but it was more than that.

It took a couple more years before I decided to get back into therapy, but by that time I was certain I had alters but I didn’t know that is what they were. I was communicating in my head, in journals, and through my family. That therapist kept trying to tell me I was a chronic liar, depressed and anxious. They wanted me to see a psychiatrist and I did. He told me I had Borderline Personality Disorder (B.P.D.) and this diagnosis explained a number of things but not everything. I still felt like something more was wrong with me. I left my therapist because he was also calling me a drug addict because I was dealing with my physical pain during our sessions in a way that he disagreed with,

I kept most of my journals over the years. And when as an adult one of my best friends at the time was given the diagnosis of D.I.D. by multiple professionals, I figured it was something I should learn more about as the things that she told me were because of D.I.D. were things that we related to each other on, that no one else had in common with me. While I looked into the diagnosis, I also took the time to read some of my old journals. I found that my writing was drastically different styles at times and that I would write about “HER” fairly often. I have no idea who she is/was, all I know about her is from teenage writings of angst and anger. I read about encounters with people that I couldn’t place and I realized that I had a lot of nick-name and online accounts that I had no recollection of ever having. I felt like I had to be faking this. There was no way that this was possible. It freaked me out and I burned a lot of my old journals because of this.

But then my oldest daughter and husband began calling me by different names, the same names that random strangers sometimes called me. When strangers called me by these other names I was able to brush it off a lot of the time, as people often assume that Kay is short for something else. At other times I would think I must look like someone they knew but these people always seemed so sure that I was who they thought I was. But for my family to do the same thing was off-putting.

In 2020 I started seeing a psychologist who specializes in dissociative patients and I reached out to my family doctor for a referral to my (retired) psychiatrist. I got an appointment with a new psychiatrist who then diagnosed me officially with D.I.D. When that happened it was like flood gates opened and all these alters I didn’t know about and didn’t have communication with came forward. It was overwhelming, but I dealt with it as best as I could. In fact, I still am dealing with it.

I was thirty-one when I was officially diagnosed. I still sometimes feel like I’m faking it, or that this cannot be real. I’m told that the goal for most people with alters is to have them all join together, becoming one solid identity instead of pieces of the whole. This is called integration. I experienced this happening once when a “little” and a “co-host” joined together. Their memories merged and they decided to keep the body’s legal name as their own. The idea of this happening to all of the alters in the body and me losing my headmates scares me, a lot. I have always had someone inside my head to bounce ideas off of and I would lose that. I don’t want to be “fixed” necessarily but I do want to be able to live a full, adjusted life.

July Reading 2022

Windblown by Éduoard Manceau

Bluebird by Lindsey Yankey

Gabby Wonder Girl by Joyce Grant

Magical Creatures by Aimee Chapman, Alice-May Bermingham & Amy Oliver

Treasury of Norse Mythology by Donna Jo Napoli

Ballet Cat: What’s Your Favourite Favourite by Bob Shea

Make Me Giggle: Writing Your Own Silly Story by Nancy Lowen

Wild for Winnie by Laura Max Fitzgerald

Camilla Cartographer by Julie Dillemuth

Sweetest July by Celina Kalluk

Sing With Me by Jose-Luis Orozco

Tales of a Traveler Book One Hemlock by N.J. Layouni

Pig In Love by Vivian French & Tim Archbold

London a Book of Opposites by Ashley Evanston

Perfect Snow by Barbara Reid

Flo by Kyo Maclear

I’m Big by Kate & Jim McMullan

Baby Feminists by Libby Babbott-Klein

Snow Globe Wishes by Erin Dealy

The Boss Baby by Marla Frazer

The Very Last Castle by Tavis Jonker

Again! by Emily Gravett

Fireboat by Maira Kalman

My Little Ponies: Meet the Ponies of Ponyville by Olivia London

My Little Ponies: Hearts and Hooves by Olivia London

My Little Ponies: Holly, Jolly, Harmony by Olivia London

My Little Ponies: Ponies Love Pets by Olivia London

My Little Ponies: Meet the Princess of Friendship by Olivia London

My Little Ponies: Power Ponies to the Rescue! by Olivia London

Be Brave Little Penguin by Giles Andreae

Zonia’s Rain Forest by Juana Martinez-Neal

How to Catch a Yeti by Adam Wallace and Andy Elkerton

Harold’s Treasure Hunt by Crockett Johnson

A Day for Sandcastles by Jon Arno Lawson

My Three Best Friends and Me, Zulay by Cari Best

Elephant in the Bathtub by Kristina Andres

Mermaid Tales: The Lost Princess by Debbie Dadey

Bedroom Makeover Crafts by Kathy Ross

Pete the Cat Making New Friends by Kimberly and James Dean

Goodbye Grandpa by Jelleke Rijken and Mack Van Gageldonk

Percy Jackson and the Olympians: The Titans Curse by Rick Riordan

The Crates (part 2)

Maizel didn’t like coming to Droca, the city gave him creepy vibes. The black and grey walls hewn from heavy stone stood ahead of him at least eight river boat lengths in height, and although still far away he swore he could see bones jutting out from the walls as though their owners had long ago been entombed there, their flesh long since rotted away. It gave him chills as the road wound closer to the gates and all sunlight was lost to the wall’s shadow. The far side of the city didn’t have walls, but it was far too dangerous to attempt entry through the torrential currents of Reaper Brooke, especially with the horses and buggy.

The velvety finish of the finely crafted solid wood crates made guessing the contents more interesting to Maizel. More interesting than any other journey in which he had not already known the contents of his wagon in advance. The crates were both long and tall yet relatively narrow in comparison. The weary-looking cart driver had already discarded the idea that anyone would waste such nice containers on bodies or parts, and anything that valuable and dangerous would have a more experienced escort, especially when going through a war zone.

The ride out of Port Enoth and towards Bitura had been uneventful. As instructed by the Duke who had hired him, Maizel avoided large communities and cities along the route, only stopping at small villages to gather provisions. It was a lonely trip, having expected one of the identically faced clerics to come along with him. When the two had left the ship without a word to him the idea that he had a guarantee of company evaporated.

Leaving Bitura was a bit more hazardous. Droca had been at war with the Dwarven kingdom for so long that the Biturians no longer felt the need to destroy the undead forces that marched through their land on the way to battle. This led to there being more highwaymen, and vigilantes in these parts. Also, Maizel had been warned that there were people who would do everything in their power to stop these boxes from arriving.

The need to avoid large communities became less and less of a concern for Maizel as most Biturians had no interest in living anywhere near their Necromantic neighbors. One evening, a day or so before he crossed the river border, Maizel treated himself to a stay at an inn with a real bed. He did not sleep well that night as he was plagued with a sensation of being watched or followed.

After a hearty breakfast of mystery meat and over-cooked grains, the humble traveler returned his load to his cart and double-checked it was secure before preparing his horses to continue the journey. He was interrupted before he could begin to hitch his cart and fought the urge to take a step backward as he looked up, much further than usual, to meet the eyes of the newcomer.

From behind the crimson-haired giant a chipper voice called out, “Excuse me, sir! We are a little bit stranded. My good friend here and I are looking for a way to Pulabuta. Could you help us?”

It took Maizel a few moments to calm his horses before he spoke, “Pulabuta is a dangerous route unless you want to go by boat. I’m currently on the road to Droca but I believe I can help you if you are willing to make the detour with me. However, ma’am, your friend who is scaring my horses is a bit too large for a seat on my cart.”

“Oh, sorry.” The giant said stepping backward out of the barn. “Many creatures seem to be afraid of my size but I promise I’m gentle. I only kill what I eat.”

“That is an honourable philosophy,” Mazel replied. Turning to see the other traveler for the first time, Maizel jumped in surprise. “You’re a cat-folk?”

“Why, yes, I am,” she gasped, ” I do hope that will not alter your offer of aid. I am aware that my people are not well-liked since The Cat-astrophe.”

“I hold no prejudices based on a person’s parentage, I’ve just never seen a living cat-folk outside their refuge of Meowntain Town”

Together they finished hitching the cart to the horses and began the trek towards Droca. It was comforting having conversation partners, even if they could pose a risk to his cargo. The giant walked behind the cart to keep from spooking the horses while playing with a leather band on his arm. Sithik claimed it brought him luck during his travels around the mainland. The cat-folk, Miao Cat, didn’t say much during the days, preferring to nap in the sun, but as the shade from the city-state fell over them she became alert and kept looking behind them. “I do believe we have company,” she purred.

June Reading 2022

Green Eggs and Ham by Dr. Seuss

Diary of a Fly by Doreen Cronin

Chicka Chicka Boom Boom by Bill Martin Jr & John Archanbault

Bad Kitty by Nick Bruel

Rocky’s Mighty Words by Tad Hills

Ten Shiny Snails by Ruth Galloway

Seasons and Weather by Linda Bruce

Peppa Pig: La Sortie Scolaire (translation of ‘Class Trip’) by Neville Ashley

The Girl Who Thought in Pictures by Julia Finley Mosca

Clifford Goes to Hollywood by Norman Bridwell

The Face on the Milk Carton by Caroline B. Cooney

Mookie is Missing! by Carol Ghiglieri

The Basketball Game by Lorraine Adams

Mr. Bounce by Rodger Hargreaves

The Very Impatient Caterpillar by Ross Burach

The Wonky Donkey by Craig Smith

Oh Tucker! by Steven Kroll

Tsunami by Kimiko Kajikawa

A Piece of Home by Jeri Watts

I Am Canada by Heather Patterson

Stowaway on Noah’s Arc by Charles Santore

The Tale of Jemima Puddle-Duck by Beatrix Potter

Pippi Longstocking by Astrid Lindgren

Fairie Fruit by Charlotte E. English

Grumpy Bird by Jeremy Tankard

Little Critter : Just For You by Mercer Mayer

Barbie’s Favourite Stories: The New Counselor by Diane Muldrow

Barbie’s Favourite Stories: Loves Her Sisters by Diane Muldrow