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In another life, I was a historian. Some days, when rain weeps from turbulent clouds and a chill stirs the palm trees, I picture myself sipping tea before a roaring fire. I'm usually wearing a powder-blue cardigan and velvety leggings. The tea is sweet jasmine steeped with rich honey—and a generous splash of coconut rum. As I sit before my fire, I chat with people long since passed. Book lovers might recognize this genre as Bangsian fantasy. Pharaohs are my favorite when the

I can pinpoint exactly where my obsession with mythology developed. It was six grade. Our English teacher assigned each of us a Greek god or goddess to portray and tell their story before the class. I was graciously appointed Aphrodite and let me tell you... I played the role UP. Draped in rich maroon curtains stolen from my mother's dusty closet, I wove the tale of Aphrodite's illicit affair with Ares, God of War. I'd like to think the class was riveted. In reality, I was ju