Life is for the Living and Lines Aren’t for Me

The dust has settled. A little.

Hubby and I have relocated once more and settled into our new apartment. We traded our urban setting for a town small enough that relatives live across the street and our extra half bath for a third bedroom. In the time that I’ve been away from the keyboard, I’ve filled most of my hours with work and the few spare hours I had with new crafts. My husband filled that third bedroom with all of his electronics and created an absolute dungeon out of it.

But, we found a weekend and drove ourselves down to the Baltimore area once more to visit with friends. I had won a place in line to meet Diana Gabaldon, the author of Outlander, at the Maryland Renaissance Fair the day after my birthday. What a present, right?

We had three days filled with, honestly, the best time I’ve had in a long while. The seven hour trip on my birthday was topped off with burrito bowls and hours of catching up on Doctor Who because awesome friends love the same things you do.

The next day, I was too caught up with everything going on at the fair that I missed the beginning of the Diana Gabaldon reading. There wasn’t anywhere for someone as short as I am to see, let alone hear what was being read. And I was okay with that at first. I kept on perusing all the shops, intent on bringing something awesome home. I caught sight of a woman suspended in air by strips of fabric. I saw an elephant and stood feet away from a hooded falcon. My girlfriend wore her Jayne hat and was getting quotes thrown at her left and right while my husband was having fun sampling the wine.


Eventually, the line for the contest winners started to form, winding its way around the massive trees in the area. It worked its way up the hill and down the hill and back up the hill. In all of the confusion, I couldn’t get a grasp on what was going on and found myself towards the end. My friends and husband took turns standing and waiting with me because waiting in line can be lonely work for an introvert. It was the whole reason that we’d decided to drive down to Maryland at all. I was going to meet Diana Gabaldon!

But the line moved at a snails pace. All the while, my friends and husband were out and about enjoying themselves. I learned something. Life is too short to wait in lines, especially for someone that I’m not wholeheartedly in love with. Sure, I like and respect Diana Gabaldon for her work, but I don’t obsess over it. I don’t reread her books. I don’t even own all of them.

So, I jumped out of line.

There were better things to do that day. One of them being spending time with the people that I loved. Another was the pressure to find the perfect birthday present. My hubby hadn’t gotten me anything and the more inebriated he became, which wasn’t all that much this is just the kind of guy he is, the more money he stuffed into my hands.

I made my way from shop to shop, trying to find whatever called to me. We passed dresses and jewelry, wood mugs and leather boots, and nothing called to me. It wasn’t until we were about to leave for the day, the guys in the privvy, that I decided to peruse a ceramics shop.

And I needed it.

The big, blue mug screamed out to me. And if you’ve ever seen my cabinets, you’d know that I don’t need more mugs. It’s one thing I might never have to buy again; I have that many. But I didn’t have a Doctor Who mug. I didn’t have this big, blue beauty.

Doctor Who

It and another item that called to me came home with me that day. I brought more than just some ceramics home with me, though. I brought home memories. It makes me wish I’d taken more pictures so that I could share it all with you.

But I’m horrible at that.


Author: Leah Chiasson

I am a twenty something geek, wife, writer, and all around goofy girl. I am a freelance writer as well as the author of Marked For The Hunt, available on, and the coming sequel, Marked as Prey. You can find me on and on my Patreon site!

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