I have to do a shoutout to my parents. After the events of the last 39 years, I feel like a blog post is the least I can do.

My parents did not want two kids, but I surprised them anyway, and they've always made me feel like an integral part of the Riedel experience, even though I was obviously deposited into my mother's baby growing area by aliens who have spent the last few decades guffawing at our family photos because, yeah.

I was the messiest child an OCD mother could've imagined, always crafting it up and such, and never really getting my dishes into the sink. They let me live, and never gave me crap because I had to create. They just tried to contain the tornado of Pegasus drawings and woodcrafts and scarves.

Ha ha ha. There's no containing that. Good try, though.

When it became apparent that I needed to have a career in the arts, and would therefore live on their couch forever, they never said an unencouraging word. They backed me up in every way, even when I chose the section of the arts that is the worst choice a bookwormy introvert could make. They got me trained up for my weird singing choice and always say super nice stuff. My dad even hooks me up sometimes with photos of performances in which I look decent. I know. It's amazing.

My parents are going through so much sicky barftasticness right now, and they remain kind, encouraging, and supportive. My mom even kept her sobbing down to five minutes when we broke the news about moving away so we could have a try at our dream house.

Really. Only the one time for five minutes and then she kept it together. Even when we moved into her house, made a nuisance of ourselves for three weeks, and then left again.

Everywhere I go, if they know my parents in the place, I hear about how special they are. And not just by people who want to kiss my butt because I'm fancy now. Every. Body. It's crazy.

But they are. And they are accepting and love all of our friends and never judge us, even when we do dumb things. Let's face facts: That happens A LOT.

(Just to clarify, that doesn't mean they don't give us crap...that is their right and privilege, and I would never want to take that away from them...that's the price you pay, man.)

So, mom and dad, who don't read this blog anyway so I can say what I want, thank you. Thank you for letting me be myself, even when myself is a mess. I love you right back.