Letters to Holly

Mrs. Hyde

2012-01-27T11:38:00.000-05:00

Yeah, I'm not doing that door replacement until the weekend. I may need all day to drive back and forth from the store to get those tools the box didn't tell me I needed.

Your Grumbly Sister told me all her medications include "irritability" as a potential side effect. She apologized for being on edge. She clearly is. She goes from quiet to cursing over the least little thing. I do that too and I have no excuse of drugs. She pulled a back muscle from coughing (just like Sammy Sosa), and I gave her a half-hour back rub during the GOP debate. I can't say which made her more sleepy.

She says her friends' sons all spoke later than their girls and went from babble to complete English sentences almost overnight.That sounds right; he's babbling for prolonged periods, imitating speaking cadence if nothing else.

Picture of the Day
My weekends plans are exciting.

Diagnosis: Moidah

2012-01-26T13:01:00.000-05:00

So, yes, Your Sister has a sinus infection, and now she has a bag of prescriptions to take for it. She also has back spasms, making her a delight for all.

Because nature dogpiles us with obstacles, the pantry door has finally given up the ghost. I've kept this thing alive and in operation for years with repair, but it is now really most sincerely dead. The guide post that allows it to slide in the doorframe is dunzo, leaving the door to dangle from the hinges and making it a beast to open and close. We need to to keep out the cat and son, and it seems I'll install a new door soon, maybe tonight. Considering I'll need to trade cars and drop off the deputy after work before I buy a door and bring it home, that means Your Sick Sister has to fly solo with him at his crankiest. And, if I install it tonight, I'll have to carry the pieces from the garage to the kitchen to minimize the racket. I can't just buy replacement pieces to fix the problem; we need a whole new door installation. I can do it, but it won't be quiet or quick. If I do it after we eat supper, that's gonna put me finishing around 10 pm. Rassem frassem.

It was announced yesterday that Sierra Nevada will open a distribution center in Mills River.

Picture of the Day
Today is NASA's Day of Remembrance. The first official astronauts (as opposed to test pilots) to die on a mission were aboard what was later named Apollo 1, seen below. That crew was lost on Jan. 27. Years later, Challenger was lost on Jan. 28. Columbia was lost on Feb. 3.

The Masque of the Red Sniffles

2012-01-25T12:48:00.000-05:00

Your Sister is going back to the doctor today to figure out what this lingering bug is. She's been in the sick bed almost exclusively since Christmas, and it's only getting worse. She breaks the time into two distinct colds, but I see it as an adaptive ailment. She went to this doctor two weeks ago and got a simple antihistamine. She tried some Tussin despite my suggestion she go for Mucinex, something to attack the wracking spine-bending coughing fits. She thinks she may now have a sinus infection.

The Deputy's cold is fading. His nose is clear, and his coughs are fewer. I think he and I have the same allergies. We all navigate the house via cough echolocation. He may think coughing is a form of conversation.

I am suspecting he's having trouble moving from sign language to words. He doesn't understand the distinction of saying something with hands and mouth. And he gets confused about saying an animal's name and speaking as if he was the animal. If you ask him to say "cat," he makes the sign language or meows. We're working on it.

He almost used a toilet last night. In the shower, he made the sign for poop, and I held him over the toilet. He didn't understand that he could befoul it without getting in trouble. So I put him back in the shower, and there he went, and he was upset that he made a mess. Cleaning the mess is sometimes easier than comforting him.

I'm gonna buy him an alphabet toy today for the commute. I think he's outgrown the old car doodads, and I worry he's falling behind in learning. Entirely our fault, if so. We're challenging him on colors as he plays with books, and he does seem intensely interested in "reading" these days.

Picture of the Day
We need therapeutic cookies.

And the Results Are In

2012-01-19T11:05:00.000-05:00

We can see a big difference, post-tubes. His demeanor is more stable. He's practically chipper, and he's learning signs and pseudo-words quicker. It really is like he's advanced the four months he "lost" to constant infection within a week.

I can see now why people have such joyful memories of raising kids: Seeing a toddler pick up a communication within minutes makes you feel like Anne Sullivan. It's the thrill of competence. This is why people have multiple kids, methinks. They want to relive that rush. But I have comics and video games and running. I'm still good with one. So is Your Sister. Our covenant stands.

Not that he's perfect. His evening schedule is iffy these days. He now melts down at dinner and sometimes cannot return to the kitchen for a pre-bed snack. I suspect he's processing more after the surgery and wearing down quicker. He may also be hitting the "terrible two" stage. We've already demonstrated our separate responses to this: I out-stubborn and overpower. She coos and tricks him with play. Her route is smarter. Mine's quicker. And there we are.

Picture of the Day
This is the sinking cruise liner as seen from space. Usually, Your Sister rolls her eyes at horrible behavior in news stories, but the captain's refusal to co-ordinate passengers off the ship has her roiling. She's talking death penalty.

Doin' the Tubes

2012-01-13T10:45:00.000-05:00

It was an early morning yesterday. We left the house at 5:30 to make the Asheville appointment at 6:30 at the Mission outpatient surgery center. We kept the deputy in his pajamas and sleep sack. He was surprisingly tranquil considering he hadn't eaten for 11 hours. We had a short wait in the lobby before going back into what looked like a standard emergency room section. The nurse checked his heartbeat and oxygenation rate before giving him "giggle juice," a relaxant. We changed him into a smock and socks, and we were offered a playground wagon. He rode in it in laps around the nurse station while the medicine kicked in.

After about 20 minutes, we went into a pre-op room. A doctor asked about his last meal and his sniffles. We chalked that up to allergies, and he listened to his lungs. We postponed the surgery two weeks ago because of chest congestion, and we got nervous that we'd have to do so again at this very late stage. The doctor said the congestion cleared quickly after coughing and gave the OK. The ENT came out to walks us through it, and the anesthesiologist gave us a similar rundown. My Mom made me promise to ask about the possibility of the deputy having her porphyria, and we were told that if I didn't have it, he didn't. Also the drugs they use would no longer trigger the kind of reactions she was anxious about. They pulled him into the operating room with him still in the wagon, and we waited in the lobby, eating breakfast quickly.

Your Sister hadn't really been in a hospital before. Maybe some ER visits. I told her what I remembered of my surgeries, and within 20 minutes the ENT came out to recap the procedure. Lots of ear gunk was removed, and they checked his esophagus again. He'll need to return to his original Prevacid prescription (we scaled it back to avoid conflict with the antibiotics). We waited another 20 minutes so they could watch him. After we were summoned, we found him crying in a nurse's arms. We huddled with him in a small recovery cubicle and gave him juice. I signed discharge papers, and we took him home another 20 minutes later.

He was cranky and sleepy the rest of the day. He had some nasty drainage during a nap but no more has emerged since. He took the bath and shower fine and slept through the night. He hasn't responded differently to sounds or his own voice, but I didn't expect a drastic difference. We go back in a month to see how the ears are doing, and hopefully he won't be on antibiotics again for months.

Picture of the Day
And now for a celebratory lean.

Follow-Up Call

2012-01-10T11:40:00.000-05:00

We hoped to hang out with other parents this weekend and hired a babysitter for the deputy. They called Saturday morning to cancel due to sickness, and we decided to keep the sitter and see a movie. We picked Girl With a Dragon Tattoo. My guys reviewed it yesterday.

We were all sacked by allergies with this weekend's break of warm weather. We hope that the deputy's sniffles and coughs don't postpone again his tube surgery. Your Sister was driven to naps (reluctantly, of course. Of course.) while I drew and drew.

+ + +

I got a call Sunday from the folks who organized the volksmarch a few weekends back. They tracked my number down from my name on the registration form. The representative asked me what my concern was, and I noted that not only did the Bi-Lo folks not have any idea habout the walk particulars, but I was handed an office folder bucket and told to noodle it out myself. That, I noted, wasn't a great introduction to the event.

I was told, frankly, that this is how all domestic volksmarches are done and had I any familiarity with how they do it in Europe then I would obviously -- and that's when I stopped her to note Your Family's history with the German walks. I also said that the system doesn't work for new people drawn to the walk via a published press release. Had there been something as simple as a newcomer welcome letter with a checklist to follow, that would have helped.

I was informed that this walk event is planned to be an ongoing daily opportunity for tourists. The Bi-Lo will keep that "walk box" on the premises for folks/volks to register and pay for the completion patch all-year round. How these hypothetical people will learn about this and how well Bi-Lo will train their employees to man the "walk box" 24/7 are questions I quickly shoved out of my head. Not my concern. I now have the notion in my brains that this is a loose group of march enthusiasts with ill-formed concepts of marketing and trust in other companies to run their event.

Picture of the Day
Models and portrait. Huh.

TURN. IT. UP.

2012-01-06T14:35:00.000-05:00

The store has my shirts for sale. I'm giggly. I'm eating shoestring potatoes in glee. I am constantly listening to this song. I already have new shirt ideas in progress. I'm also thumbnailing the comic, and I can't decide which to do first.

I'm so ecstatic I literally don't know what to do with myself.

A Good Walk Spoiled

2012-01-02T11:11:00.000-05:00

A group out of Asheville, part of the American Volkssport Association, attempted to organize a volksmarch in our town for New Year's Day. They sent a press release to the local paper, and we pounced on it. Your Sister remembers doing these in Germany, and she invited Your Parents along. Your Aunt came over for the day just for this event. An event for which no one from the organization showed up.

The article told us to go to a Bi-Lo near the trail's start point. We were to register there. Your Sister thought one person could register for everyone, and I disagreed. I was sure we'd each have to sign up and probably pay. We met Your Family at the trail beginning, and I went to the store, where the article said I could ask for a "walk box" to register and get the walk details.

The first store employee I met at the customer service desk didn't know what I was talking about. A second employee took over, said she had the info I needed, and she presented a "walk box." It was a plastic file bucket, and it had folders labeled Register, Past Awards, and Club Information. It also had a registration log (with the names of five people other than us). Instead of individual packets for the walkers, the club handed the store one bundle for the entire event. The person who slid the bucket over to me asked what the race was about. She had no more information than I did.

Inside, I found envelopes to mail in a club membership along with one's fee. I couldn't give that money to the Bi-Lo people (as they didn't know about the race), and I wasn't about to leave cash in a bucket presented to everyone who asked for it. I couldn't use a credit card to pay for our registrations, and I had no checks. We couldn't officially sign in. I added our names to the log to act as a census and noted that there was no one who could greet the newbies. I took a copy of the trail map and a few registration slips to show Your Family what I found. We walked the path anyway.

The weather was nice. We know that trail. We've taken the deputy on it more than once, and he was well behaved. He took the first half in the stroller and either walked back or rode on our shoulders. Your Aunt strayed a few times, and we doubled back to fetch her. She wanted to wander, but we had a lunch/nap deadline with the sidekick. We fed everyone before they drove back home, and no one seemed to mind the lack of organization. We seemed to be the only ones there for the event, and I'm glad. Heavy trail traffic would have made family chat tricky.

I'm at work today, and Your Sister has a school workday. She's still catching up on papers and informing parents of student grades. She hopes the lighter semester workload will let her go back to Wednesday yoga classes.

Picture of the Day
I'll post more about this on my official blog, but this is the artwork I toiled over last week for the podcast folks for which I made the cartoon supergroup. They asked for a zombie. I made him a Mercury astronaut.

Not So Fast

2011-12-28T14:59:00.000-05:00

The tubes will not go in tomorrow morning. He has a cold with chest congestion, and the doctors say that doesn't mix well with anesthesia. We rescheduled for Jan. 12, and we're to be there even earlier in the morning than we were to arrive tomorrow. He also, true to the doctor's prediction, has another ear infection. We had an 18-month checkup this morning, and the pediatrician asked us flatly which antibiotic we wanted. We picked cefdinir, but we'll go back for rocephin if his ears aren't better in a few days.

I'm glad we don't have the early morning tomorrow. This week has been a chore, hardly a vacation at all. I toured Asheville yesterday as the car was tuned up, and the sidekick stayed in daycare. I visited the Biltmore Square Mall, and it is pathetic. It's mostly empty, and what stores are there are the small boutique types, folks selling Southern knickknacks. It's sad; I bought Your Sister's valentine's ring there. I also visited the new shopping center on Long Shoals Road. It's more of a town than a mall with storefronts and avenues and apartments on the higher floors. It's anchored by a new movie theatre, and I watched the new Mission: Impossible there. It was the earliest film I could catch and keep my car appointment. If Your Sister takes the deputy to daycare tomorrow, I hope she watches War Horse. So I don't have to.

I visited the short shop while I was in town and met my liaison. She said my stuff would go up this week. I said I'd be in next week to see them. So. We'll see what I see.

I also stopped into Toys R Us and finally bought the Y-Wing. I've only wanted it forever. They're my favorite ships from Star Wars, and I love the mythology they have: All the Rebel Y-Wings are cobbled together from salvaged models. They're the bombers of the fleet, the B-52s and B-17s. The X-Wings would be their escorts and draw fire.

The deputy was given a play tent by my mom, and he seems to enjoy it. She visited Monday for a late Christmas lunch.

Picture of the Day
Yeah, baby.

Stick it in Your Ear

2011-12-23T15:36:00.000-05:00

Our regularly scheduled ENT appointment was to see if the boy could get off the Prevaid. But we asked first if he could check the ears after such a long spells of infections. He took quick looks and said that, within the next two weeks, he's gonna have another infection because his ears are full of "reduction sauce of ear snot."

He's getting tubes. The doctor explained the procedure and sought to comfort us with talk of procedure length and recovery, but we're not rattled. The regular doctors prepared us for this possibility, and we recounted the infection history and anecdotal tube stories from other parents.

We noted the multiple comments of potential verbal progression once the tubes are in, and the ENT said flatly that he and we will not believe how much better he will hear once this is done. I mentioned he can already differentiate between a truck and a train, and the ENT shook his head. That's nothing, he said. He will even cover his ears from the increased din in those fully operational ears.

We make the appointment next week for an Asheville surgery, and the ENT said that we'd do the procedure even if he came down with an infection. Needs doing. Also that will be when he will check the heartburn and tell us if the sidekick can get off Prevacid.

The ENT said he gives this spiel on ears and surgery and anesthetic and tubes twice a day. There's a 1/50 chance his eardrum could be punctured and a 50/50 chance he'll need a follow-up procedure in five years.

Picture of the Day
The Most Great ENT, Dr. Loveotron-san.

Tis the Season

2011-12-22T09:55:00.002-05:00

Your Sister is in cleanup mode as the semester ends. It's exam week. She either watches other classes take their exams or remediates her own students as they try to squeeze past the failure threshold. Her days run just as long as when classes ran normally, and she has just as much homework to get all the grading done.
I am sketching. The podcast that inspired 80TEAM80 asked me to provide some zombie art for a new project, and it took a turn. The art went in a direction I didn't expect, and I find myself drawing the image repeatedly in a nerdy rush. Details later. I also started a second round of thumbnails for the comic and the obligatory script tweaks. This threatens to be an epic story of desperate robots.

Still no sign of my shirts at the store. I was again told my liaison was sick. I am now convinced this store is run in second gear.

Have a Merry Christmas on those beaches. Toast the season with pineapple drinks.We are not putting up a tree this year as the sidekick will only tackle it. Every five minutes.

Picture of the Day
Behold the Cthulhu Tree, the encapsulation of HP Lovecraft's dark mythos and yuletide cheer.

Bonus Moving Picture of the Day

Know you of this? Maybe we can set up a movie date for next year. I remember we three watched Two Towers on a snowy afternoon. And then we tussled at pinball.

Breathe A Sigh

2011-12-16T11:54:00.001-05:00

As the week comes to a close, so does a very difficult semester, and Your Sister is noticeably sloughing that burden. We're not clear yet; final papers need grades and exams dominate next week. But even that week is easier to handle than the previous weeks' load shoved onto her as the returning workhorse.

She got cranky, to put it mildly, and screechy, to put it bluntly, and Tuesday represented the absolute worst I've ever seen her. She cracked. She's entitled. She got it out of her system and was fine the next day. The upcoming semester promises regular work periods during school hours and a curriculum distributed to all the teachers. She wasn't the only one feeling it these past months, but she had a jarring return to the school after a year's absence. I think she'll drink this weekend. I endorse the notion.

+ + +

The deputy made it through a full workweek without a fever or ejection, and I am almost dancing with relief. He's not sleeping through the night though. Sometimes he's hungry, sometimes he's restless. I wonder if we've coddled him through his ailments and back into the pattern of crying for company. We may have to break him of that crutch again.

Missing some sleep is infinitely more preferable to sitting him at home again. If he wakes up in the night, he usually just needs some water, maybe a diaper, and he's out quickly. Five minutes, maybe.

+ + +

I hope to have pictures of my printed t-shirts early next week. I'm told they will try to use all the art I sent them earlier this week. I'm already working on new images too.

Picture of the Day

Andrew Garfield, the likable guy from Social Network, is the new Spider-Man, and new images were released this week. I'm not digging the new costume, but I appreciate them trying to make it look like active wear.

Contact

2011-12-13T10:46:00.000-05:00

After tidying up some t-shirt art, I planned to print out copies and hand deliver them to the t-shirt shop Monday. I sent my first email files to them three weeks ago and heard nothing. I called and left three phone messages with no response from my store contact, and I was getting mad. As I saved the last Photoshop file, I called the store to confirm they would be open during my lunch break. Surprisingly, my contact answered the phone.

I asked if she had gotten my files. She said yes and then rather sheepishly said the political art wouldn't work. They didn't want to polarize the audience, and it was then that I developed a new theory: They worried I would go ballistic. Maybe I was one of those crazy political junkies who took any opportunity to yell fascism.

I understand completely. That's why the Helms/Thurmond shirt I made could be worn ironically or sincerely. But I had made other art and mentioned that. She didn't remember them, probably not noticing them once she saw the art and formulated a panicked plan of no response. I emailed her the files I had just polished, and she said the store might start printing them less than 24 hours later. We'll see. I'm posting shirt designs (and some design history) on heygregory and FaceBook.

Picture of the Day
Blue Spiral had a showing of work by Taiyo La Paix recently. I was surprised to find it among theglass birds and wood vases. Don't know the name, but I appreciate the style.

All Better

2011-12-12T11:10:00.000-05:00

We knew the boy turned a corner when he woke up hungry in the middle of the night. Like a fever breaking, the Clearance Sale bug dissolved enough that his appetite came back. A day later, so did mine. And then Your Sister's. As the bloat dissipated, our stomachs realized they were empty and yelled for goodies. We ate all weekend. I initially thought the sidekick was starting a growth spurt, but because we all had the same cravings, it seems like he's refueling.

She again dug into her pile of research papers, and I watched the deputy over the weekend. We'll switch roles in a few months when I'm ear-deep in my comic. As long as he has access to a water cup and a handful of snack food, he's mostly OK. I can draw at the kitchen counter as he bounces and crawls and climbs. It's my hope we can go a full week without a doctor visit. Even if he comes down with something now, we'll wait for his Dec. 28 18-month check-up to take him in. I mean, an arm has to fall off for us to see the doctor before then.

Picture of the Day
John Wayne as Neo in The Matrix.

Lingering Effects

2011-12-09T10:51:00.001-05:00

I'm still reeling from the Clearance Sale bug. My understanding of fermentation is that yeast eats sugar and makes gas. I think I'm making beer in my stomach. I am swelling from this stomach souffle. It aches. Antacid doesn't work. To break the foam, I'm eating despite a complete lack of appetite. My stomach feels full, and my brain says I don't need to eat, but my mouth misses tasty things. I have to remind myself to eat.

Before the Great Unpleasantness started Monday, I was interviewed for a podcast on Saturday. Some online friends have a regular show called Sarcastic Voyage, and each year they open their show to an exchange of audience questions. But the submitters must answer a randomly selected question. And so it was that I was recorded via Skype and asked about '80s cartoons. You can download the episode here. I come on at the 21-minute mark. If you go to the 1 hour and 20-minute mark, you'll hear someone answer the question I submitted:

The category of "art masterpieces" is cumulative. What was considered a landmark of art in the classical ages is largely still considered so. As the centuries unfurl, and more work is added to the pantheon of great art, we become buried under what is considered the best of all time. I say we need to limit the great works of art to a set number. And so I ask YOU: If you had to eliminate a famous piece of art from the status of "masterpiece," what would it be and why?

I wouldn't mind doing this on a regular basis.

I'm giving the t-shirt shop until Monday to return any of my three requests for confirmation they got my initial files, and I'm continuing to make art on the off-chance they are so blown away by my material that they forgot to call me back. I'm also making art for other online buddies for Christmas.

Picture of the Day
That's Frawn-ken-steen.

Wracked With Sickness

2011-12-07T11:44:00.000-05:00

He got the third shot Friday and picked up a stomach bug Monday. I was at work for maybe 20 minutes before the daycare called me due to his throwing him five or six times. I was livid. It didn't help that the employees told me after I arrived that "he seems fine now, but he has to go home." He wasn't fine, turned out. Neither was I. Three hours after I got home, I was hit with it.

I haven't thrown up in years. Maybe a decade. There were times I wanted to, yes. When I got swamped on Two Buck Chuck at the neighbors a few months back, for instance. But this was monstrous. The waves of nausea wouldn't crest, so I forced myself to throw up as a curious toddler a few feet away on the other side of a hallway gate. It was so violent, so massive, that I thought I pulled muscles even as I knew I wasn't finished. I was almost too fascinated by the experience to be upset by it. I felt immediately better as the toilet flushed before the cycle started again a half hour later. The sidekick and I had a few similar episodes throughout the day and evening.

I called Your Sister around 6, asking her to bring home some Gatorade. She suspected something was up before that because the boy as sporting reddened cheeks. He had also coughed up some breakfast over the weekend, but nothing that rang our alarms at the time. Also, a stomach bug was tearing through her school. She got home around 7, and it was soon tearing through her. The three of us were pitiful throughout the night. I had a dehydration headache the next morning, and the sidekick kept all his meals down during the day. Your Sister slept virtually all day, and she's back at home today. I'm at work. He's at daycare. So far, so good. I'm a little woozy still, mostly muscle weary. I may also be starving. We've lived off soups and toast for a few days.

Picture of the Day
The Milky Way over Nepal.

Yes, Again.

2011-11-29T11:14:00.000-05:00

Can you guess where we were Monday morning? Does the pattern hold true?

Yes, we were back to the doctor. His fever spiked Sunday, and his rash was back. I got him the earliest appointment we could for Monday, but his rash and fever had subsided. Just like taking the car to the mechanic. The doctor said his ear was infected again, and she noted with some alarm his recent medical history. He's been on three antibiotics since September. She suggested Rocephin as a last measure before we see an ENT. He'll get three shots this week, including his first dose on Monday. The doctor advised that we might see a behavioral shift, and by cracky, we have. He's pinballing off the walls. He's beyond "perky," as she warned. He's almost manic.

She suggested the shots and possible ENT with trepidation, and I told her we'd do what's necessary. We want him better. Ear tubes, from all anecdotal evidence, is no big deal these days. They go in easy. They come out easy. And if they keep him from getting dizzy and cranky and potentially deaf, then let's get those if need be. But until we make that appointment, let's see if the new stuff works. He's gotten it once before. His first infection was treated with one shot of Rocephin to boost the prescription of Amoxicillin. This time he's getting the three shots alone.

Picture of the Day
Hey, mom! Watch this!

Supplemental Income

2011-11-22T10:12:00.000-05:00

As I killed time before this weekend's roller derby, I swung by the t-shirt store on Lexington. Its a screen-printing company that promotes local artists. I got my Batmobile shirt from them right before Fanaticon. In fact, I bought it as I was killing time before the museum dance party the night before the show. Saturday I noticed a flyer soliciting new contracts with local artists. I dismissed it immediately. My idea of "local artists" in this town is trendy faux-psychedelia. Not my scene.

Monday morning, however, I found a nice shirt on Woot and bought it immediately. I don't do this. I wouldn't have any Threadless shirts if not for the two you gave me a few years back.

This was too clever to pass up. Also, I'm the kind of nerdy old man who can't resist skulls on a black shirt. I'm closer to the TV geek fashion of House, not the Big Bang kids.

Skip ahead a few hours. I had to go downtown to deposit my paycheck, and I decided to kill the rest of my lunch break by cruising downtown, as I do. I swung by Lexington once more and thought again about that flyer. The skull shirt inspired me. Maybe I could that. Maybe I've already done that, and I just need to put my art on shirts. What the hell.

I went in, chatted with the lady behind the counter, and had a signed contract within five minutes. I retain all image rights and get a cut of all sales of merchandise with my material. Costs me nothing but the time to make and email the artwork. Yeah, what the hell. I mean, that Shiva logo is begging to see the light of day. It's ready to go now. Toss in a few reworkings of other artwork, and I could have an in-store display and a catalog section on their site. If I can sell shirts with my characters, that's free advertising. What. The Hell.

I combed through my old art files and found a handful I can send in soon. I made a list also of sketch ideas I have. I can maybe have shirts in hand before Christmas.

Picture of the Day
Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice!

Back to the Doctor

2011-11-21T10:29:00.000-05:00

Friday night was pretty difficult with him. It took me an hour to feed him supper because he cried and protested the food with each bite. I saw it as pouting. Maybe sleep deprivation. Your Sister suspected tooth trouble, and Saturday night's repeat at feeding time solidified that. She took him to the doctor Sunday morning, and we learned it was not tooth-related. His right ear is further infected, and he got an antibiotic upgrade to Azithromycin. It looks like we're back to middle-of-the-night ear drops.

The doctor also suggested he's becoming particular and perhaps reaching his tantrum phase, presaging the Terrible Twos. We've seen that. He runs off to cry when he's denied something, even lying on the floor to scream a bit. We won't have that. Your Sister leaves the room. I give him a smack on the tush.

He's definitely mimicking words now. He doesn't get all the sounds tight, but he's getting there.

I didn't witness Saturday night's antics because I went to the season finale for roller derby. They hadn't played at home since July due to civic center renovations, and we learned via the program that the bouts are moving to the ag center at the airport. That's convenient in a lot of ways: free parking, closer to home, tailgate possibilities. I wonder how the facilities might affect attendance. Will they have enough room for the average civic center crowd? Will the downtown foot traffic follow the team to our neck of the woods?

The night featured the usual blowout wins provided by tip-top athleticism, and we got a skater busting her chin on the track (requiring stitches and an extended clean-up) and another gal collapsing into vomit on the track and suffering a knee injury. I worried she had a seizure, but she seemed OK after some EMT attention and another long clean-up. We won't see the derby again until April. Yeesh.

So, hey, I'll see you in a few days. Prepare for child overload.

Picture of the Day
I normally don't like image memes like this, but ...

Get Him Healthy

2011-11-18T12:08:00.000-05:00

This is necessary accompaniment when we learn the sidekick has another ear infection and must stay home.

When the deputy can not go outside and finds himself stuck in our relatively small house for three out of four days, he's not happy. Neither am I. I spent a healthy chunk of Monday, Wednesday, and Thursday with him on my hip. I too was stuck inside, and the satellite dish saved my sanity. I used the laptop to work from home, but tweaking magazine files through two computers and their internet connections is rough going.

Today, he's fever-free and rash free and seemingly regaining his appetite. He woke up last night hungry for the first time in months.

Your Sister is dragging. She goes straight from the dinner table to her office to do school junk. She's not yet at the point where I can help out with papers. I can do little for her. I made dinner last night from a recipe she picked. She forgot to thaw the frozen items including the broth. As she tried to feed a cranky sidekick, I cut the broth out of its box and thawed it in the microwave after hacking it to bits with a knife. I had to split the dish into two pans to cook, and I was teary eyed from the red onions. This was kitchen slapstick.

I at least think I was the doctor's best parent Monday. I gave her what I consider good information and observations about our guy, and we talked about his unwillingness to use words. He might -- might -- have started word mimicry this week. It sure sounded like he said "bright light" after I did this morning.

Picture of the Day
We all need help these days. #OccupyGotham

Battle Stations!

2011-11-15T10:14:00.000-05:00

Our first car sickness disaster happened yesterday.

We got halfway through our commute -- literally the midpoint-- and I happened to be glancing at him in the mirror when he spit up. That's odd. Ha hasn't spit up in months and months. As I was thinking I should pull over to clean up that slight mess, he made a gigantic one. Seemingly everything he's ate this weekend came up. And it was effortless. It looked like he was no longer babbling in words but in liquid. A soup soliloquy. I was too amazed to be mad. I pulled into a gas station parking lot and discovered his hoodie had caught most of it. I took that off and turned it inside out to bundle the mess. I used his diaper bag items to clean him up, and we drove back home.

My brain has a constant fret swarm buzzing about, arguing that I'm never prepared and never capable. I've been in enough significant moments to know that this panic cloud vanishes when it's time to act. It's merely a barking yip-yip dog, scampering off in times of trouble. Granted, this was ultimately an inconvenience, but this was our first car-bourne eruption which we're led to believe is an inevitable catastrophe for all parents. Did I go James Bond on my son's upchuck? Yes, why not?

I decided he'd stay home even if this was an isolated thing. He didn't have a fever, and he seemed to be in a low gear, but he was playing. A little clingy, maybe, but that's not a bad thing some days. I'll hug my boy. When I called daycare to explain his absence, I was told there was a vomit bug going around. That's info we needed beforehand. He ate lightly and slept heavy, and this morning seemed mostly OK. He made it to daycare unsullied.

We took him into the forest both weekend days to burn off his toddler energy. I worked on a piece of comic art for an online buddy's Christmas surprise. I'll post images after he gets it.

There's been some more nonsense among the family regarding Thanksgiving, and it involves how much money is spent on each grandchild. It makes me want to skip the 12 hours of driving. Would you join us in a defection if we decide to do something else, like Occupy Dollywood? (I'm kidding/not kidding.)

Picture of the Day
This is what Burning Man looks like at night from space.

Time Change

2011-11-09T12:29:00.000-05:00

We think he's adjusting to the new clock settings. He's waking up later in the morning now after a few days of waking up earlier than we wanted. He's not as cranky on the commute home when it would normally be after his time to eat. We stuck to our plan to give him the same food we eat, saving us all that time used for food preparation, and we're trying to teach him to use a spoon properly. He's slow to pick it up. He's also not yet intentionally saying words, and that's concerns me a little. He babbles all the time, yet when it comes to identifying specific items, he relies on the same simple vowel outburst. He can make a variety of sounds, seemingly the entire alphabet, but he hasn't figured out to consistently make sounds for specific items.

Wait, he does say "blluh" for "umbrella," and he makes the vroom noise for all motors. We just introduced him to the vacuum cleaner -- the loudest motor in the house -- and he's delighted by its roar. He knows it sleeps in the closet, and he wants to visit it always.

I'll feel better when he's using something approaching words. He's clearly bright, if we do say so, but I worry he'll have some developmental communication trouble. Then I remember he took forever to walk, and he was running immediately after.

He finished the antibiotics, and his nose is no longer running, as it did for about two consecutive months.

Picture of the Day
Spooky-ooky necronauts.

Beloved Leftovers

2011-11-02T11:25:00.000-04:00

Your Sister bought four growlers of Ninja Porter for the Saturday party, and virtually no one drank it. Besides me, of course. I discovered I killed a growler all by myself over the course of five hours. I feel no guilt. More important, Your Sister likes Ninja Porter, and we're making recipes all week that practically require a strong beer to accompany them. We also have extra candy from Monday.

She crashed early last night, and I was able to chip away at my stack of commissioned artwork for friends while watching a James Bond block of films.

That old guy in the mirror needs to start exercising again. I hope the upcoming time switch will let me get up early and make with some push-ups.

Picture of the Day
The cast of Alien, apparently back when the monster was going to be 20 feet tall.

Halloween Weekend

2011-10-31T11:55:00.000-04:00

The annual carving party was a blast, and the house was swarming with kids. The deputy took it in stride as he's learned at daycare. He wore his costume for a few minutes before the attendees' body heat made it impractical. He went to sleep easily and slept through the chaos. Once he was put down, Your Sis and I could play the proper hosts.

We moved the party into the garage to escape the horrible wind and set the firepit near it on the driveway. As Your Sister made the party soup and cider, I took the deputy to the town street festival. He strolled inside the small hay maze, but the people and sounds distracted him to the point of immobility. I put him back in the stroller, and we made a few laps. I got my beloved lab gyro. There were a number of costumes, including a homemade He-Man costume. When I congratulated him as he walked by, he stopped to thank me. I was the only one (so far) to know who he was supposed to be. I live among heathens. I walked past the theatre stand and talked with the actor who played Scrooge in my last play. He was surprised the deputy was 16 months already, and we traded ear infection stories.

I drove the sidekick into the forest, and we walked the fish hatchery. After he inspected seemingly every vehicle in the parking lot, I pointed out the circling buzzards to him, and we followed them to the fish area. A ranger had given a flock a dead fish from the hatchery, and we got to watch them on the ground. He was mesmerized until he saw a cart with wheels, and he ran to play with that. He's also now obsessed with playing with Your Sister's umbrella.

People arrived around sunset, and soon the house was packed. We said goodnight to the last family around 11, and we quickly cleaned up and collapsed. I watched him last night while Your Sister did schoolwork. We fended off his small yeast outbreak with leftover medicine, and he seems to weather this infection well. He gets a little moody, but then he is a toddler.

We ended the night watching Walking Dead. That consists of me calmly taking it in, and Your Sister peeking from behind the couch.

The Letters to Holly Quasi-Victorian Cheesecake Pinup of the Scary Day
She only wanted sparkly shoes. Who are we to judge her?

Repeat Attraction

2011-10-28T11:22:00.000-04:00

Another ear infection has set in.

The daycare called yesterday around 4 to say the sidekick had a fever. I called Your Sister and got him home. She called me about 15 minutes after we arrived to say she got the last appointment time at the Hendersonville clinic. I hurriedly packed the deputy and his snacks back into the car, met her halfway down the road, and together we broke some traffic laws getting there in time. The doctor confirmed infection in both ears and put us again on the familiar antibiotic. We got home two hours after we left the house (prescriptions in hand) and got him fed, drugged, and asleep within another hour. We high-fived in victory. Sometimes, we roll strong.

Aside from tugging at his ears, he seems fine. His appetite and energy are still there. He sleeps fine. He's still chatty. He went to daycare today and participated in the costume "parade" indoors.

Picture of the Day
Los Dos Frodos.

Keep the Receipt

2011-10-26T12:01:00.000-04:00

So, no, you don't have to remove the entire front half of your car to replace a headlight. You do if you want to change the glass housing wherein said headlight nests. I found the right bulb by matching the car's manual bulb ID number with a bulb in the local car-part store. It's not a breeze to get your hand in there to change it. But you pop the hood, grab the coupling, turn the bulb, and remove it from the housing. The bulb pops off, the new one pops on, and the coupling goes back into the housing. Took ten minutes. I should have changed both the bulbs. At night, the new one shines like a lightsaber jutting out from my engine.

Your Sister had bales of hay delivered to the house in preparation of the pumpkin party this weekend. We're inviting people on the sly, keeping it small and hoping to avoid awkwardness around the latest dissolving marriage. Whatever the reason for the separation, I sympathize with them both. Kids are involved. That's an Olympic degree of difficulty.

Speaking of separations, after a 20-minute ordeal of comparing bedsheet packages at a local store, I found what I thought was the perfect replacement for the flannel sheets shredded by the cat. Right texture, right color, right size. They had to fit a king bed because I bought a king mattress when my first wife ran away. In fact, the very first thing I did the morning after was buy a bed to replace the one she took. I know it was a king frame because the delivery guy mentioned that there was only one mattress size larger than the one I ordered: a California king size. However, when Your Sister bought the TempurPedic mattress to replace that one a few years later, she got a queen. My perfect replacement bedsheets don't fit. So I must trade during today's lunch break, and I will grumble the entire trip.

Picture of the Day
A franchise-wide design for Penguin Book UK's new James Bond paperbacks.

Harvest Time

2011-10-24T11:22:00.000-04:00

The garden is closed. The falling temperatures blackened the vines, and I warned Da Missus that I would need about an hour to fetch the taters. I went out last night and came back in just as all daylight faded. When my first sweet potato sprouts arrived in the mail DOA, I almost wrote off growing any this year. But I found some at the local hardware store and put them in the dirt immediately. We had plenty of vines with no idea how many potatoes to expect. Turns out it was quite a bit.

About three weeks back, I pulled three vines' worth and had a good handful of potatoes. The two batches of sprouts produced very different yields: long, ropy vine taters and fat, traditionally shaped ones. But I didn't expect the rest of the vines to offer up quite so many as I excavated last night.

The sizes again ranged from finger to cat.

We are now flush with taters.I pulled the last of the cherry tomatoes from that lingering stalk last night, leaving only the bright marigolds and the dead pea vines. I'll shave the garden down to the soil and maybe cover it with tarps to burn the weeds out before next spring. I offered to split the tiller rental with the neighbors next year so they can start a garden too. If we plan our crops, we can trade veggies.

+ + +

An expected disadvantage to the daycare has emerged: the sidekick gets bored at home. He has the run of the main floorspace and a variety of objects to distract him, but he burns through them quickly on weekends. As Your Sister self-medicated into a coma, I feared the deputy's yelps would wake her, and I tossed him into the car for drives this weekend. We went into the forest Saturday and meandered and visited the local playground yesterday. Both times, he ran for the parked cars. He is obsessed with vehicles, be they cars or trucks or airplanes. He loves tires and rushes to pat them. He stays on the playground items for about three minutes and spends half an hour going from car to car.

The daycare scheduled costume parade for Friday, and Your Sister is tempted to catch it. This will require her to miss the entire school day. I hope it's worth it. I envision a five-minute scrum of kids tugging off each other's hats. I'll stay at work and save my parental visits for when he will remember if I was there or not.

+ + +

My Mom visited the Amish country last week and seemed to enjoy it. She's baffled by the Amish, and that probably extends to all other religions. We, in contrast, attended a night of secular one-act plays at Kathy and Travis's church, and they put on a better show then the one-acts I managed a few years back. They had better energy, more skits of differing lengths, and ended strong.The venue was better too. It was a lively night, and none of this would have been allowed in the church I grew up in. That's the kind of show the local company has to consider before it goes completely under.

+ + +

I have a headlight out on the Matrix, and a Google search for replacement bulbs suggests that I have to take off the bumper to get to the dead bulb. That can't be right. Changing Your Sister's sportscar headlights wasn't that bad, and it required removing air ducts and the battery. If it's that involved, I'll let the dealership do it. And this might be under warranty anyway ...

In the Interim

2011-10-19T15:59:00.000-04:00

And we're back.

All is well, nothing is amiss. Your Sister is in the sick bed lately, but she's still going to work. The sidekick continues to sleep through the night, exhausted mentally as much as physically; he's trying his damnedest to talk, but it comes out as jabberwocky. We don't have to wind him down anymore. By the time he gets out of the bath and eating a light banana mush, he's yawning. Your Sister puts him down much quicker than before while I do dishes or shove dinner into the oven.

One such dinner was the usual Monday night wangs, but this batch of birds came from a local farm. We got them at the tailgate market on Saturday. We normally could buy local meats from the gourmet grocery store, but the bankruptcy of their landlord dislodged them, and they continue to look for local space. We miss that place. But a number f their suppliers took to the tailgate market, and we can buy more cheaper without the middleman. We bought three packets of wings, but I learned only after opening two of them, that they were vacuum-packed. We had much, much more than we expected and normally ate. But ate I did and slept like the dead afterward.

That evening, Your Sis took the deputy to the new local Halloween fair. It's a massive thing, with bands and pumpkin patches and mazes. I wonder how this might affect our town's annual Halloween street party. I've written off running in this year's costume 5k; I don't have the lungs after months of indoor patenting. I ran Saturday, and the conditions were exactly the same as last year's race, and like that evening, I couldn't finish the 5k route. The dry air wilted me.

Your Sister's stubborn sense of professionalism has finally stepped back as she has hit her threshold of care about this semester's workload. No longer is she locked into doting all the i's. Now things will get done when they get done. I don't blame her. She has some leeway as a returning new mom; she doesn't have to ramp up back into her previous fifth gear. She always gives kids a chance at the semester's end to salvage teir GPA. They won't suffer.

I have a few more monsters to draw for the October theme at heygregory.com, and then I'll bear down on next year's comic.

Picture of the Day
Back in the day.

Glad To Be Back At Work

2011-10-11T12:26:00.001-04:00

Between Your Sister working on Saturday and attending a far-off wedding on Sunday and being back at work Monday, these past three days made me glad I don't work from home with the sidekick. Because it's not practical while he's at this age. He's everywhere. Or he's desperate to be everywhere and crying when he can't reach this or climb that. There's only so much assuaging I can muster. I took him to the school yesterday to tour the school and visit with teachers, but he fell apart within 20 minutes, and back home we went. It rained. That removed the park or the stroller as a way to kill time. I was delighted when naptime rolled around.

I had my own naptime Saturday evening after visiting the neighbors. They invited the three of us over to hang out and make s'mores, and they plied two of us with Two Buck Chuck. I have no problem with that. Your Brother introduced us to it during one of our first visits to their house. But I ate very little that day, and my glass was rarely empty, and I quickly realized that I was dizzy even though I was sitting down. I told them that I had achieved "pickled" and needed to leave. Your Sis stayed for a time while hubby and child were zonked, and I hope that time out helped her.

She still feels frazzled despite the weekend extra work time, and I don't know how to help. This isn't grading; this is class preparation. Me, I'd trust my familiarity with the material to see me through -- make some highlight notes and improvise between them. She doesn't work that way, and I think that's working against her.

Moving Picture of the Day
Watch the new Avengers trailer. Watch it a lot.

No Contest

2011-10-07T10:46:00.000-04:00

We've observed radio silence lately because we're stuck in a rut. Our days have become rigid in their schedule with nary a variation in our hours.

Your Sister is crawling through the semester. Having only one planning period every two days is murder, and she's deadweight. She's planning to go into work this weekend again, and my suggestions to lighten the workload clunk off her blast shields. The schedule should lighten next semester (still scheduled to begin with the new year, not weeks after), and the feedback of the bedraggled teachers should guarantee this doesn't happen again.

Earlier in the year, the county announced a contest for a new official seal. Logos were solicited, and I was mildly tempted. The deadline was right around the time of the two local conventions, and I had my concerns about the vetting process. Namely, there would be a committee of locals who would filter the submissions down to a handful before a round of citizen voting for the winner. The initial criteria for submissions was clearly noted. Who knows what the committee would look for? And why open up a matter of design to an expanded committee, one the size of the county? Too many variables in play. The winner wouldn't be necessarily the best design, but the one that appealed to the broadest range for whatever reason.

The two logos that have been released for public input reflect my suspicions. (I'd link to them, but the newspaper site requires a paid online subscription to read articles. Even the New York Times gives you a number of freebies per month.) They are bland or intentionally folksy. The committee apparently agreed as they have added a third voting option: the current county seal. So you can vote for weak, weaker, or same. I'm glad I stayed out of it. I wonder if they got so few submissions or, probably, they eliminated the ones that displayed ingenuity. It reminds me of the beer-logo fiasco, and what I call the victorious mediocre. The sharp/smart/clever/snazzy is dismissed in favor of material that prefers to blandly identify instead of engage. Or the contest organizers want the design that best fits their unspoken idea. And that makes the contest a dead crapshoot. (Am I just bitter? Maybe.)

I think the "same" option will win. It's the safest choice, and frankly the cheapest. No money will be required to replace the old seal. And that consideration will (and should, right now) trump all others.

Pictures of the Day
Entertainment Weekly and Marvel released the first official stills from next year's Avengers movie, and I can't believe we're getting an Avengers movie.

Hit or Misses

2011-10-03T10:44:00.000-04:00

Yes, the airshow was freezing. We packed jackets and hats, but we were still unprepared for a wind that sharp. There was no sun. Others hadn't expected anything like that and attended in flip-flops. We were uncomfortable. They were miserable. Your Sister enjoyed it as much as the deputy because she's crazy for airshows. I don't regret skipping the 9 am 5k race on the runway -- too much wind, too much cold, too little running in the past months. But I am noticeably thinner, and I wonder how that will affect my running when I pick it up again. The Halloween race may still be possible. Actually, we're both pretty small these days. Your Sis is three pounds heavier than she was on her first day of college. I haven't been this thin in more than a decade. Speaking of which ...

This weekend marked the 10th anniversary of the Night That Changed My Life. I forgot about it entirely until this morning. That's a comfort; it means I don't obsess. But it does remind me how radically my stations have changed in the interim. A new wife, a son, a house, new in-laws, a lost parent, comics, two jobs, 5ks. It's vertiginous. And dizzying. In virtually every way, my life improved. I'm tempted to contact the ex and thank her for her supernova of bad decisions. I'm also curious to compare our progress since then. I don't wish her ill, because, frankly, part of me thinks I don't need to. She's done more damage to herself than anything I could have concocted in the darkest bitter moments.

I mean, let's be honest, someone departs that way because they're betting they can find a better partner or be better off financially (Also it's an intentional slap to the head with a big, cold fish.). But that bet, at least indirectly, also gambles that the one left behind can't do better than the departed. And in that regard, the former missus missed. I traded up. I so, so traded up. Still, she was my best friend for the decade prior to the one I just marked, and her absence is notable for the time we did spend together. I certainly don't regret the marriage as it, if nothing else, house-trained me for Your Sister.

Another of our friends' marriage seems to be collapsing, and both folks work with Your Sister. No one knows the particulars, and that's fine. It complicates Your Wife's workplace, of course, and touches the majority of our friendships. We like this couple a lot, both as spouses and individuals. I hope they can work this out. But the parallels to an early collapse a few years back is spooky.We remaining husbands are obliged to step up.

Picture of the Day
This is Pyongyang, North Korea. This would make Orwell run screaming.

Huzzah for Phobias!

2011-09-28T10:13:00.000-04:00

Mission Hospital and a slew of radio stations are sponsoring a health fair at the airport Saturday, and they are gonna mount a 5k race there. ON THE RUNWAY. I haven't run since we did it last (was that Easter?), but I might not be able to resist that opportunity. They're trying to bring in kids by promising small airplane rides and tours of the airport's giant trucks, and that's right up the alley of Your Nephew, who is now officially in love with school buses. The only hitch is the jolting cold front sweeping in. And the fact that the airport is shuttling people to the event; I'll bet dollars to doughnuts they can't accommodate a baby seat.

I suspect a bird ate his outdoor pet spider Charlotte.She will continue to live, however, in my nightmares. But huzzah for phobias! Another giant f'ing spider has popped up on our deck, spinning a web we could use for a pool tarp/communal shroud. The sidekick is delighted.

Kathy called to mention an ad she saw in the paper for a part-time radio newsman. This is for the local station. Tempting, but it's part-time, and I'll double down those doughnuts that it's morning and noon. That station goes on autopilot around 4 pm. But I'd love to do radio. I had the briefest of experiences with it at ECU. Did you know I once had an imaginary station that I "hosted" on cassettes I made for songs I taped from actual radio stations? And that I named my Pandora station after it? And that I was a complete goob?

Picture of the Day
The sidekick and monkey enjoy breakfast.

Parental Back-Up

2011-09-26T10:14:00.000-04:00

Star Wars blu-rays now live at our house. Your Sister packed it in very early Friday night, and I ducked out to grab the set at the Mart of Walls. I hadn't been in there in a long time, and every stereotype was validated. Their ventilation system circulates sad air.

I spent a few hours in the workshop to pound out the Spider-Girl artwork for Kathy and Travis. It's lingered way too long in the sketch phase. I drew a 11 x 17 piece a while back, but it's flat. I redid it with a new angle, moving away from the tight reliance on my reference photos.

She spent most of the weekend at the school catching up on summer grading. The sidekick continues to move in fourth gear always, and Your Mom came over Saturday to watch him. I went back into the workshop and tackled the city background on the Spider-Girl image and cranked up the commentary track on the Naked Lunch DVD I bought a few moths back. I love that film. I love my time at ECU it hearkens back to. When Your Sister returned, and the sidekick was put down, we cracked open the blu-rays and watched only the deleted scenes. They're wroth the cost of the set by themselves. The Tattooine Biggs scenes are there. The Return sandstorm scene is there. Leia and Han's Hoth argument originally went much longer. The Wampas were more prominent. The admiral in Return had a subplot. Han had a girl on Tattooine. I mean, we just marinated in this stuff.

Both Your Parents came over Sunday while I made the grocery run. I concocted a new stir-fry recipe last night (fried chicken with honey and black pepper coating), and I think I burned my throat. It feels scratchy, and this isn't allergies. I suppose the grease stayed hot cocooned in the crispy shell longer than I expected. On the other hand, I think it tasted great.

I finished re-reading The Exorcist, and I want to watch the film again. I'm not sure if I ever saw the whole thing through. I think I can sell Your Sister on watching it if I suggest we watch it as a time-caspule artifact from the '70s.

Picture of the Day
Fogbank.

DragonCon Video

2011-09-23T10:47:00.000-04:00

This is a good indication of the variety and volume of costume varieties at the show. The only quibble I have is that the video suggests much less floor traffic than we encountered. That kind of wingspan room is just not there. The atmosphere of camaraderie, however, is omnipresent. It really is a happy party.

Not What I Ordered

2011-09-21T10:41:00.001-04:00

A sign that we are parents: Sleeping through the entire night makes us giddy as drunks. I'll tempt fate and say he is virtually over his lingering bug. Our own versions are fading also, but we all cough randomly to map the territory of the herd.

(The Debacles need a collective noun. A nerd of Debacles? A thrill of Debacles? An ass-smack/goose of Debacles? We shall ponder.)

Almost immediately after receiving my blue-ray copies of the original Star Wars trilogy from The Amazons did I realize that it contained no supplemental material, the stuff that justified the purchase of yet another copy of these films. I think I've bought them three times, all on VHS. All the packaging noted were commentary tracks. I had hoped and assumed an reckoned that the trilogy sets would each include the good stuff. No. Now I must own bu-rays of movies I don't intend to watch to get what I really want. However, I know the sidekick will probably want to see them within the next three years. I packed up the set, printed out the paperwork from their website, and mailed the movies back to The Amazons this morning. Sigh. So close.

Picture of the Day
Hi, Happy Hobbits.

Again? Again.

2011-09-20T10:13:00.000-04:00

Still croupy. Still medicating. I should start a BrewGrass featuring cold medicine. The sidekick is much better, and Your Sister is climbing slowly out of the murk in her head.

I got an email from the theatre announcing yet another show switch. They wanted to do Arsenic & Old Lace, a play with eleven male characters. As the email notes, that's asking a lot. Apparently only three guys showed up to audition. They will instead do a two-person show, one that has the actors reading letters onstage. That may be as close as they ever get to reading theatre, an option that can salvage shows with large casts but few actors. Like the one they just scuttled. Just last week I saw an article about a local actor starting up reader theatre in town in an effort separate from the county theatre group. I tried to sell them on the idea. It's convenient for everyone and capable of being just as entertaining as memorized shows. And you don't risk losing patrons by changing shows midseason.

I briefly considered auditioning for this show before I remembered what my schedule becomes during rehearsals. I can't drop the sidekick off and eat supper before getting to the practice space. Despite my reservations and complaints from past shows, I like this script, and it's a staple of community theatre. I'm starting to age out of certain roles that I always wanted to play. Now that we see how the auditions developed, I'm glad I stayed home.

Your Sister noticed last night that I have a beard these days (not just stubble) and she's fascinated. I think she has beard envy.

You and I talked about costume ideas for next year, specifically Commissioner Gordon. Here's what the comic version looks like:

And here's Gary Oldman.

I can do this rather easily. This is a role I'm aging into.

Picture of the Day
This can't be right, can it? The Sahara is longer than the US?

Nip It In the Bud

2011-09-12T11:37:00.000-04:00

The sidekick's constant running nose sprints along, and we noticed that he was again stumbling and cranky. Much more moody than we're used to. We remembered that this is how his ear infection started, and we visited the same far-off doctor's office Sunday. Confirmation ensued. The doc said his left ear shows retraction, apparently evidence of an ear infection. We caught it early though, and he escaped the office without a shot and armed with a prescription. We're giving him more ear drops as a precaution. He's again waking up in the middle of the night, and we placate and coo and caffeinate as the sun rises.

A combination of allergies, convention crud, and whatever was blown our way by last week's tropical depression has waylay-ed Chez Debacle. I have avoided a full whammy, but Your Sis is staying home today. The doctor said the sidekick exhibits only the normal daycare exposure to dozens of viruses. Nothing we can do, she said. Wipe his nose and hope he isn't flattened by anything bad. Your Brother is paranoid that all daycare kids require ear tubes, and the doctor poo-pooed that. I was a daycare kid from eight months on, and I had no tubes. A ton of allergies, yes.

We biked Saturday, an excursion delayed for months by the boy's ailments. He seemed OK with it. I had just finished mowing the yard jungle. We usually bike later in the day, and I expected a longer recovery time. Nope, Your Sis was in a high gear, and off we went, and many sufferings did I endure. But I'm glad we did it and wished we went every weekend.

Because of a great early-bird price, we bought our memberships to next year's convention. Combined with our relocation rate and confirmation for the hotel, we're all set. We're going. I'm currently thinking of going as Gary Oldman as Commissioner Gordon.

Picture of the Day
Apparently the deleted scenes on the Star Wars blu-rays include scenes like this:

Car Talk

2011-09-08T12:01:00.001-04:00

Da Missus drove the car with the bad tire to the local garage. They plugged it. But she was told that when she needs a new tire, she has to replace all of them at the same time. All-wheel-drive cars require this. We did not know this. We would have bought another type of car.

I've heard there's a service called 'shaving' that can make a new tire match the degradation of the other three, but that sounds like something beyond our local guys' ability. This stinks out loud.

+ + +

I have now ordered the Star Wars Blu-Rays from the Amazons. I only got the original series.

+ + +

Despite allergies and congestion, the sidekick has slept through the night since last week. Hu-fucking-zzah.

Picture of the Day

I have found my costume for next year's con.

There and Back Again 2011

2011-09-06T09:13:00.000-04:00

Here are my con photos.

I stayed home Friday to prepare the boy and My Mom for our vacation. She arrived a little later than I'd hoped. I wanted to caulk our bathtub and give it the whole weekend to dry, but I discovered very late that tubes of caulk can and will go bad. We had three tubes. All liquified. I grabbed the boy and hustled to the nearest hardware store. Mom showed up about an hour later, and I caulked the tub as he went down for a nap. He didn't like it, and Mom had her first exposure to a cranky sidekick, and I think that prepared her for the weekend.

Your Sis got off work at 3:30, and we were on the road by 4:15. It was about half an hour later that we realized one of her tires was perilously low. We could either ignore it, swing by Greenville and patch it (if a garage was open at 5 on the Friday before Labor Day), or go back home and switch cars. We picked C. While it added almost two hours to our ride, it was the quickest option we had. We got to Atlanta at 9. Could have been worse: We passed a 13-mile stretch of interstate where cars were not only parked, but people were milling around on the pavement and playing sports in the median. I have not seen anything like that.

The check-in was seamless, despite the hotel switch, and we charged right out to get our convention badges. The phone GPS was confused by Atlanta's density, but we found the correct hotel downtown and were officially conventioning well before the con closed shop for the night. We hung out with some online friends. The convention started Thursday morning, and the foot traffic was already strong. That was nothing compared to Saturday.

We got up around 7:30 to prepare for the parade. Instead of shelling out $13 for hotel cereal, we found a Starbucks right around the corner. We dressed in costume and hit the road. Between leaving the hotel and finding the parade, random folks had yelled out my character name, including security guards. One approached to check my handgun, and I showed him it was completely fake and plastic and harmless. We learned he was in the Air Force, and he talked Germany to Your Sister.

Right before we got to the parade, we passed a street preacher who was angling for a fight. He was yelling at passersby, including the family with young kids ahead of us. He berated them for reading Harry Potter (assuming they read Harry Potter) instead of the the Bible (assuming they didn't read the Bible). Convention people can validate a lot of geek stereotypes. He was doing nothing to help the stereotypes of fundamentalists. And yelling at kids is the mark of a total asshole. He wondered aloud again why the parents let the kids read Potter instead of the Bible, and this was right as we walked by, and I responded "Because it has a better ending." He stammered a bit and went back to his spiel, and I hope he was soon after hit by a bus filled with drag queens.

Your Sister grabbed a seat near the gathered horde, and I searched for the parade staff so we could officially join in. That done, I sat with her, and we ate breakfast and pointed out costumes. We found a contingent of GI Joe/Cobra folks and complimented each other on their outfits. I saw WKRP's Loni Anderson ride by, and I assume she was a Grand Marshal. On the dot of ten, we started walking, and we quickly found the parade to be immensely immense. Here's Your Sis in all her costumed glory. I love this picture.

I was gobsmacked by the audience. A good number yelled GI Joe catchphrases and character names. It was by itself worth the cost and planning to attend. I saw and hugged my hometown gang along the route, and we were met at the very end by a college buddy and her gal. It was a perfect parade experience.

And then we went into the madness of the convention. You do not walk. You shuffle. Shamble even. You do not talk. You yell. You sweat. You say "excuse me." All the time. You gawk at costumes. You pose for pictures. You obey the security folks even as you grumble about the policies (like no standing along a wall to catch breath). We hit some booths and tables for knickknacks. I found brand new Joe figures that I hadn't seen before. We started snapping costume photos in earnest. The sheer number of people boggles the brains. And it spread over blocks of downtown. It filled hotels. It smothered the streets and restaurants. This is truly an international gathering. And we were INSANE to think we could have brought the sidekick. Some folks brought their kids and shoved them around in strollers, making the crowds less navigable and smooth-flowing. Those people should be ejected. And hit by a bus of drag queens.

We left the crowd and found the Gone With the Wind restaurant where we ate for Your Parents' anniversary. And back we went, into the mob. It really is all about milling and shuffling and sight-seeing. The variety of costumes from every conceivable genre is endless, but there were patterns emerging: Dr. Who, Captain America, Spider-Man, Vader. The biggies.

Your Sister called it a day around 4:30, and we went back to our hotel. It was about seven blocks from the action, and we appreciated the separation. The host hotel elevators were impossible to nab and fit into. We did begin to run into those attending the nearby college football game; some of them had not heard about the convention and reacted as you might imagine Southerners With Money would: Exaggerated confusion and stares. And these were people festooned in school gear as much as we were in our costumes. But I had a bird on my shoulder, and that threw many a debutante. (I know you were a debutante. But you ain't these people.)

I aired out my costume in the hotel room before dressing up again and meeting my online gang for dinner downtown. Your Sister grabbed dinner from the Starbucks (they serve bistro boxes now) and shooed me out the door to enjoy myself. The gang and I gobbled Mexican and rested briefly in a hotel room before diving into the chaos. Saturday night at DragonCon is utter calamity. It's nonstop revelry with obvious debauchery lingering at the fringes. It's Mardi Gras indoors. For hours we walked and gawked and clicked and chatted. I was pulled aside many times for my outfit; most people were delighted to be reminded of a character they hadn't seen in 20 years. Some were confused. Two people asked if I was Popeye. Another person asked if people knew who I was and was relieved when I said absolutely. Some actual firefighters knew me. That was cool.

I packed it in around 12:30. I had worn contact lenses all day, and my eyes were shot. Also, my feet. I carefully walked back to the hotel and initially avoided the drunken game fans whose team just lost. But right as I was about to take the quiet detour away from the mobs, I got my dander up. Fuck 'em. I walked along the main road and right toward the drunks. Some were mighty mad that my comeback was funnier than their jab. One older lady, I suspect, debated tackling a sailorman for a sidewalk quickie. Your Sister was out cold when I got to the room.

We grabbed Starbucks the next morning before officially checking out. The hotel warned us that the valet car service would be swamped Sunday morning, and we may have been the only people to have heeded that warning. The lobby was crammed with crabby hungover game fans bitching about the wait. See, we checked in a day earlier than they, and our car was parked closer. They arrived after everyone else hit the city, and their cars were practically parked at our house. Also, and this can't be ignored, the valets were all black, and these unhappy guests sounded like nothing less than sons of the plantation owners bitching about workflow. We kept silent lest we delay our departures. Let the howler monkeys howl. Brats. Where is that drag queen bus anyway?

We met up with my college buddy and her gal for brunch, and we spent a chunk of time catching up and trading convention stories. They didn't officially attend, but they did donate at the con's vampire blood drive. We managed to escape town before the tropical storm hit, but the Twitter feeds did speak of people waiting in the rain for con events. Your sister suggested new costumes for 2012 before we left the city. We got back about 5:30. Mom was aglow with her time with the deputy. She agreed to do this again next year if we went. And I think we will.

Recap: We're exhausted but deliriously happy in a geek cloud of camaraderie.

+ + +

On Monday, I watched the boy while Your Sis caught up on school stuff. We also had to address her flat tire. We called AAA and learned we could have the car towed to the nearest garage, and we pursued that for a while. Then we considered simply putting on the spare tires and having her drive it to the garage later in the week after school. That's what we did. But that car and that wheel are gigantic. A AAA tow driver came by and switched out the tires. I did the grocery run and bought cider for her to swig after the long weekend and last-second workload. The sidekick slept through the night. Thankfully, so did we.

Coalescing

2011-09-01T10:02:00.000-04:00

The diaper rash is fading. The sidekick slept through the night. I'm halfway packed. Our con experience is a little over a day and a 3-hour drive away. You just followed me on Twitter.

The world is spinning my way.

It's with a sigh of relief that I can say our big weekend starts tomorrow. Your Sister doesn't feel ready to pack and go. But might she ever? I say no. Not until we're on the road. We're meeting up with folks from Mississippi and California at the show. We're 90% confirmed to be in the parade Saturday morning, and I hope to have the few comic pros attending to draw in my Doom cooking sketchbook.

I called My Mom, and her anxiety has given way to optimism. She had no pressing questions. I drew a map to the local park, and I promised to leave a garage door remote for her. I pick up her eclairs tomorrow before she arrives.

Picture of the Day
The building codes are slack in Mister Rogers's neighborhood.

Hi, I'm A Bastard

2011-08-31T10:15:00.000-04:00

The diaper infection has returned, and I blame the long commute. I was home yesterday awaiting the repairman, so the kid got a full day of intensive tush therapy. The automated pharmacy system initially refused to refill the cream prescription, and I protested to a human pharmacist until I got clearance. This happened about a half-hour after I berated the over repair guy into driving to Asheville to get the part he needed; he wanted to wait until Thursday for the part to arrive from Spartanburg and then make an appointment to install it.

No, sir. I drive to Asheville very day. It's doable.

But it will cost more, he said.

More than buying a new oven?

No.

Make it happen today.

And he came back about five hours later and fixed the oven. Being a jerk sometimes is the best option. I would have tipped him, but apparently his drive was added into the bill. So he and the company were covered. More money for me and for gee-gaws at the convention. Just three days away! Costumes done! Parade authorities contacted!

I baked some of those Sunday biscuits to go with dinner. Our suspicions bore out: The pilot igniter was kaput. I think it faded into death as the oven seems to crank up like a volcano now.

Your Sister was at school until 8 with the semester's open house, convincing parents that it was too early to abandon ship on their kids' GPA.The boy was down before she came home.

My Mom will be driving up Friday later than we first thought, giving us less time to prepare her for the weekend. I'll call her tonight to give her more notes.

Picture of the Day
I envision the sidekick torturing My Mom with shenanigans all weekend. Or maybe I mean "hopefully envision."

Work It Out

2011-08-26T12:22:00.003-04:00

The boy followed a spirited ride home from daycare with an attack of constipation. Seriously, he's trying to suffer every ailment before our Atlanta trip.

He started screaming at bedtime. Orajel didn't help, and Your Sister vetoed ear drops. She took him to the bath and interpreted his expressions to mean he was backed up and fighting it. After a half hour of his screams, I suggested we try to colic thermometer trick: You lay the baby* down, insert a thermometer rectally, and wait for his protesting muscle contractions to work out the blockage.

We did this in his tub for about a half hour, and halfway through, he realized what we were doing and that it could help, and he started co-operating. We were actually working together on this, and it was a bonding moment. It was almost 14 months to the day that I was in practically the same position making practically the same encouragements to Your Sister.

She grew impatient and wanted to try an enema, but a hastily improvised contraption failed immediately, and I went back to the thermometer. Eventually, I let him sit normally and let him play with bath toys and realized his screaming had stopped. I called in Your Sis to verify that the storm had passed. He was fine.He was exhausted, and he cashed into sleep quickly.

*I trip up over this word with him. He's technically not a baby anymore, and I wanna enjoy each of his developmental stages. I don't want to infantalize him, to be the kind of parent that can't let go of the baby-hood. He's a toddler, but that's a clumsy word. My nickname for him had the word "baby" in it, and I'm awkwardly trying new names. It still tumbles out by habit, and I regret it each time. I may just start calling him by his first and middle names.

+ + +

A little longer than I'd rather, I heard back from the hotel representative, and I now have a confirmation of accommodations at a second Atlanta hotel. I'm concerned the deal I was promised may not trickle down to the front-desk people, so I opened a Twitter account (@GregoryDraws) to ask the Hyatt Concierge for help. I heard back immediately and was given an email to send a request for the PDF of the deal. I'm waiting to hear back.

EDIT: I got my email listing the consolation package along with contact information for a reservations manager. I called and thanked her. This situation stinks for a lot of people, but it's progressed smoothly.

I bought two blocks of styrofoam to carve my gun replacement. I'll try painting it before falling back to covering it in electrical tape.

Picture of the Day
A mask at a local craft store.

Heart Attack

2011-08-25T11:29:00.000-04:00

I got a call yesterday morning from our DragonCon hotel. I expected it was a reservation confirmation. The four main hotels that house the party fill up quickly, and people scramble for last-second accommodations. That's why we reserved a room in September. Eleven months ago.

I was informed that because of construction overrun, we couldn't use the rooms we reserved. And we would not be able to get rooms in that hotel.

Initial reaction: MURDER.

However, the hotel rep, who had no doubt steeled herself for this and probably experienced similar meltdowns already, told me that a nearby hotel had agreed to take the displaced, and our original hosts would pay for one of the nights, offer us early reservations for next year's convention at this year's rates, and give us free subway passes for this year's show. That seemed fair. I agreed to the deal. I was assured that we'd receive confirmation emails within the next two days.

I asked the caller when the hotel realized this would be necessary, and she said last week.That's short notice, and I'm positive they were holding their breath for months beforehand in anxiety. So Wednesday morning -- eight days before the start of a four-day Mardi Gras attended by thousands and thousands -- they had to find new rooms for their guests. I told her I sympathize with the last-minute adjustments and hoped those she had to inform were kind to her. I suspect some will deliver the rage I managed to keep in check.

Our new hotel is five blocks away from the party. That might make for better sleep. We can also get there via the subway system. We need never risk bad weather.

Today
Me: Hi, new hotel. I need a confirmation for a relocated reservation.

Second DragonCon Hotel: Yeah, we never heard of you, and we're booked solid. Oh, we do have a special rate for a room Saturday night.

Me: How booked solid are you if you have a special rate on a room?

Second DragonCon Hotel: You should call the first hotel and find out what's up.

Me: Hey, first hotel. Guess what second hotel told me.

First DragonCon Hotel: Those booked-solid rooms include the block we nabbed for the relocated guests.

Me: But there's no proof I'm included in that.

First DragonCon Hotel: I'm gonna call over there and verify you're taken care of.

Me: OK. I'm being polite, but I can get ugly here.

First DragonCon Hotel: Won't be necessary.

Just a few minutes ago
First DragonCon Hotel: You're on the list, and they are still working on reservations.

Me: When you say "working on," what are the chances I won't get a room?

First DragonCon Hotel: None. You'll have a room. I'll call you with the confirmation when I get it.

Me: So I just sit tight and wait?

First DragonCon Hotel: Please.

Me: Can I borrow your fingernails to chew on?

First DragonCon Hotel: Thanks for being patient.

Me: Please take this the right way, but when you call me with the number, I hope that's the last time I talk with you.

Now
Me:

We tried on our costumes last night. I'm thinking of making a stryofoam gun butt to replace the heavy toy gun I carried last time. That gun made the holster sag the whole time. I don't need a whole gun, just something to fill the holster. I can sculpt and paint it in an hour. We've lost so much weight since 2009 that our costumes will sag a bit no matter what.

The deputy is a hundred times better now, but he was wired last night. We all slept maybe four hours. I am Biblically acquainted with my coffee travel mug today.

Recovery

2011-08-24T10:28:00.000-04:00

The Nystatin seemed to work immediately. I'm using it exclusively on him instead of alternating it with the Vusion non-prescription cream; I'll save that for later. For now, he gets the strong stuff. His color's better, and he seems relaxed. Relaxed-er. Your Sis says he probably felt relief immediately. He's back at daycare equipped with the cream and a warning about his teething. We used Neosporin on him last night after he became cranky. Seemed to work. Teething can cause kids to tug their ears, and that initially spooked us into thinking his ear infection returned. He and I also apparently share the same allergy cycles. To recap: His loins are burning, he's teething, and his nose is a swamp. Childhood, ta-da.

I felt the quake yesterday but assumed it was one of the assisted-living home delivery trucks driving off. I felt what I assumed were aftershocks, but those felt like a very mild swaying. Your Sister and her students -- half a mile away -- had no idea anything happened.

The new neighbors baked us an apple pie, and we are devouring it each night. It's huge. Now so are we.

Picture of the Day
The gals went to Tallahassee and lost a close one to a nationally ranked team. I think our team is too new/limited in competition to get into the rankings.

A-ha.

2011-08-23T10:24:00.000-04:00

It's a yeast infection.

He developed a slight fever at daycare yesterday, and I picked him up early and immediately made an appointment with the doctor. We saw her this morning (and her pediatric shadowing med student), and she pointed at the "classic breakaway lesions" and said this was treatable. We have two new medicine creams and should see improvement within 48 hours. Also, he were advised to dry him with a hair dryer and let him go streaking. Warm air is better than the bog that is his diaper. His fever is miniscule today. Also, he's teething.

It's a huge relief. This is common and fixable, and he's not actually pissing radioactive water. The parental panics do creep up after a few days of mystery ailments.I'll stay home with him today, and we'll probably be on a regular schedule tomorrow and after.

Picture of the Day
Say cheese.

Shift Rotations

2011-08-22T13:47:00.000-04:00

After a weekend of medicine and baths, we have deduced that this diaper rash is a product of his antibiotic treatments for the ear infection. His skin goes red as his urine spills about in his diaper. Either he's peeing an irritant or something on his skin reacts to the pee.

The daycare folks suggested it might be diet, but nothing new has been introduced. They also said the antibiotics may have scuttled good bacteria in his system. He gets yogurt every day. Maybe we should up the dosage. If this doesn't fade by Tuesday night, I'm taking him to the doctor. Our best home remedies are exhaustive and exhausting us. I presided over about three hours worth of bath soaks this weekend. His rash also bumped our planned party-versary bike outing, for obvious reasons.

I took the neighbor kid to see Captain America, and he is psyched as psyched can be for next year's Avengers movie. So am I. The film holds up on second viewing too.

We're two weeks from DragonCon, and it's sneaking up on us. My Mom will watch the deputy that weekend, and she's equally excited and anxious. I'm taking that Friday off to walk her through a day with him, and we've hired a babysitter to be available via phone if Mom needs help. She's on retainer. But Mom's watched the boy before. She'll be fine. He hasn't spent the night without us before though, so I don't know how Your Sister will do.

Picture of the Day
Peek-a-bird.

Piling On

2011-08-19T10:13:00.000-04:00

And now he has diaper rash.

It really should be called "diaper raw," because it's a sunburn in his pants. The common zinc oxide creams hurt him, and my almost-brilliant notion of aloe did no better. The daycare uses A&D which is mostly petroleum, and we've moved to that at home. Your Sis had me run out last night for a stronger ointment, but virtually all of them have zinc oxide. I went with the old-fashioned A&D (I hadn't heard of it before this week), and it does seem to help the most. We also started baking-soda baths.

We called the local nurse hotline. We were told to try an athlete's foot cream under the possibility that this is fungal. Your Sister wondered if this might be a yeast infection brought on by the antibiotics for his ears, and the doctor had in fact checked his mouth for thrush Monday at the follow-up. The soda baths were confirmed as a remedy, and it was suggested we give him as many as four a day. It was also advised that we skip the wipes for now and wash him off in the tub to clean him.

He was miserable for the last two days, but was almost normal this morning. The irritation is still there, but he's not as sensitive to a dirty diaper. We know the daycare folks have seen everything, and we trust their recommendations. I hope he's getting all the maladies out of his system before we go to Atlanta.

Picture of the Day
This behemoth towers over Asheville. I took this outside the Blue Spiral art gallery Wednesday.

Workload

2011-08-17T11:37:00.000-04:00

Your Sister crashed into sleep early last night, driven to comaville by a weekend of class preparation and two days of student wrangling. Also she was frustrated by a lack of empathy from fellow teachers when she mentioned that she turned down a request to mentor a new teacher. They countered by citing their own workload.

I think they meant to be encouraging to the teacher fresh from maternity leave. Instead they sounded competitive, as if she were slacking off. That rankled Your Sis. I reminded her that these were two teachers who very recently applied for positions outside the department. They were clearly hoping to escape some job obligations as well. They also refused to take the department chair job, letting it fall by default to her. They don't take on all the potential responsibilities. Neither should she. She was asked to mentor a new PE teacher, not someone in her department or even close by her classroom. She hasn't coached a team in five years. How could she mentor that position?

After putting down the sidekick, she shuffled into the TV room where I had Little House on the Prairie waiting for her. She plopped on the couch and vegged. She thinks her work pressure will ease off as the semester moves forward under its own power. That's encouraging. I slapped together dinner to the chirping of Melissa Gilbert.

Kathy and Travis asked that I draw a picture of their eldest daughter as Spider-Girl, and I sketched that out as the missus slept.My Mom's fried also asked that I draw her grandson based on a school photo.

Picture of the Day
This DragonCon beard is getting scraggly.

Rage. Mow. Rage. Yank.

2011-08-16T15:53:00.000-04:00

You know that my job can rub me the wrong way. Monday was especially bad. Something minor -- and I could admit even then that it was minor -- got under my cuticles, and I was ready to walk. The sidekick shuts down that line of thinking pretty quick, much quicker than I might have entertained it.

When I got home, I handed him off to Your Sister and explained that the weather made mowing the yard too convenient to put off. Also, I needed to burn off the frustration. I only mowed the front yard. The backyard would take too long, and I didn't want to force Your Sis to do the boy's entire downtime herself. I figured I could shave the yard and get back inside to bathe him. And I did. I timed it just right.

The yard really did need the mow. My neighbor hires a crew to manicure his lawn to the height of a golf green, and mine looks like it belongs to a meth lab by comparison. As soon as his yard is cut, I feel that tractor beam of friendly competitive home ownership.

It got cut, and I got inside. The boy got bathed. I fed him his bedtime snack and turned on the oven to warm for supper. When Your Sis put him to bed, I prepped the wings. The oven temperature alarm went off, and I shoved the food inside and hit the timer for the usual 20 minutes (wings bake for 20 minutes before I smother them in sauce and bake for another 20 minutes). I added two minutes and ran outside to slip on the waiting yard shoes to weed the sweet potatoes.

Those vines have been covered in weeds and grass for weeks, and I could never quite get to them. That ate at me since I first noticed it, and I knew I had the lingering anger to power through it in record time. But I wanted to get back in before the first timer went off. And again I did. I got back inside with three minutes left, so I would have returned with just one minutes to go before I added the sauce. I did that, showered, and called My Mom to report on the sidekick's follow-up appointment yesterday morning. The second timer gave me an excuse to get off the phone and yank Your Sis away from her desk; she needed a dinner break amid the schoolwork.

She ate as we caught up on the day. Her first day in front of kids was fine, but she has hours and hours between bathroom breaks, and there's still some sort of organization to do, requiring time at her desk. I draw. I surf online. I clean up.

I did burn it all out of me and eventually figured out how the sparking event could actually be turned in my favor. I call that a minor victory.

Picture of the Day
That was my face as I mowed. (Which one? ALL OF THEM.)

Make That Bird

2011-08-15T13:03:00.001-04:00

We took a road trip to Greenville to see the Rollergirls. The home team is just starting, and their facilities are small. It's a county rec center, and the entire game -- bout, benches, audience, ticket booth -- was inside a hockey rink enclosure. You know the set-up the Asheville Civic Center uses for winter ice skating? We were in that in Greenville. Maybe three hundred people were in attendance, but I'm sure our team went through the same dues-paying foundation building.

I got to talk finally to my contest liaison, and she apologized for what happened with my logo design. I said I still consider the logo 90% my design (she agreed), and I still get to see it in action and on the streets. I told her I've worked for years in jobs where my artwork goes through committees. She seemed relieved.

Because this was the county pavilion, it's food bar catered to kids. No beer. We went to the afterparty to get our beer, and it was a karaoke party for the local team. Our team left early to drive back home, and we didn't stick around either. I did get to see four rollergirls table dance to Def Leppard, so I feel like I got my birthday party.

It was also the birthday of one of our rollergirls, and I congratulated her after the bout. Funny trivia: If you wanted to find anyone from the two teams in intermission or after the bouts, they were outside the pavilion smoking. How can they compete doing that?

Oh, and Your Sister gave me a six-pack of money to spend on the road trip.

A six-pack of money!

I spent Sunday fixing my DragonCon bird prop. My character, Shipwreck, has a green bird, and the one I bought in the Outer Banks is red.

It just wasn't close enough for my liking. I spent some lunch breaks buying glues and feathers and paints and devoted Sunday to my bird upgrade.

I peeled the feathers off the bird and arranged them in a vertical exploded fashion so I could see how many and in what arrangement I'd need to recreate with my new feathers.

But my new feathers were larger and fluffier -- more like duster feathers -- than the flat plastic originals. I could trim and cut, but the half-feathers fell apart. My bird would be fluffier. I couldn't avoid it.

The real trick was figuring how to apply them. The Elmer's glue I bought wouldn't adhere to the Styrofoam frame. By studying how the larger original feathers were attached, I saw that they were glued together and then glued to the bird. I was surprised the quills weren't jammed into the Styrofoam, but I decided to follow their method. I hot glued them together, and that was very successful. But applying hot glue to the frame was a problem because the hot glue ate into the frame. Eventually I tried rubber cement in the classic dry-to-dry method. That worked fine.

After periods of gluing feathers and frame and allowing them to dry before combining, I had a fully feathered bird.

The pictures make it look much less shaggy than it really is. It looks like it's molting. But it's now the proper colors.

I can trim and shape the feathers to smooth it out. That will be easy work after the experimentation of glues and paint. (Paint didn't work. I would need the plastic aerosol paint that you use for swing sets and metal benches. That would make the bird heavy and lacquered.)

Your Sister spent a lot of time this preparing her classroom for today's grand opening of the fall semester. I think she overplans, but I understand wanting to direct momentum.

Easing Off the Meds

2011-08-11T10:02:00.001-04:00

Following a few days of good spirits and sleep habits, we're gonna rein in the sidekick's drugs. He'll stay on the antibiotics. I mean, we're not Jenny McCarthy. But the ibuprofen and ear drops go back on the shelf. The daycare folks were advised to use the drops only if he seems uncomfortable. I slept the entire night last night -- no ear-drop alarms, no baby rousing -- and I feel like I could wrestle the ears off a whatever the hell that was. (Gundark. Yeah, but what is that? It's in the comics. THAT'S NOT CANON! Indoor voice, indoor voice.)

Your Sister's first day back went well, she thinks. The school is still settling, but she and the other English teachers got an early start on their schemes over the past few weeks. There's still the matter of what to do with some summer reading lists; a departed teacher assigned Wuthering Heights, and no one wants to teach it.

Our mornings now have definite shifts. She gets up early with him, and I bat cleanup at 7. She dresses, caffeinates, and walks to work. I feed the boy, change him, and pack for the commute. I realize I'm gonna have to wake up much earlier to tackle the next comic. Also, we'll need to turn the TV off and work evenings to stay ahead of our workloads, and I'm fine with that. We can goof off on weekends. Also also, I need to get to running.

As DragonCon approaches, all I have left to do for my costume is to take apart the parrot toy and replace his red feathers with green and yellow. I bought feathers and glue to do this. I tried to paint over the plastic originals, but the acrylic paint wouldn't adhere, and getting plastic pant would make him heavy for my shoulder. I prefer the feather route.

Your Sister realized shortly after her haircut that it now matches that of the character she's dressing as for the con. The haircut is growing on me. It was this length if not shorter when we started dating, and I remember seeing her with such short hair way back when we were still just buddies. She and my ex came by my office to show off her new do. It was a test: Would the guy notice a new haircut. They might have skunked a lesser man, but I grew up with many female friends and learned to stay vigilant.

At Tuesday's picnic and last night's gardening, I am all ate up by bugs. They are ravenous. In fact, ravens wouldn't leave these many marks.

Addendum: During the sidekick's bath, an NPR program on Wagner played a piece of the Star Wars score, and he lit up. A momentous moment.

Picture of the Day
It's nice to be nice.

A World of Difference

2011-08-09T09:39:00.000-04:00

He was almost bubbly when I picked him up from daycare. He laughed all the way home and may have bopped along to my iPod (Istanbul Not Constantinople specifically). He was in great spirits when he got home, and he crashed hard at bedtime. We put drops in his ears before our bedtime, and he slept until 5:30. The stronger medicine has definitely taken hold. We were practically happy-drunk from relief during his supper. Your Sister remains concerned about how the mornings will go as we trade him off and she leaves for school. I think we'll be fine.

Travis called me last night to invite me to the Rollergirls' away game in nearby Taylors for my birthday. No matter how well the night goes, it can't make me happier than being invited out by a guy friend for my birthday. That has never happened.

Picture of the Day
Here's the first image of next year's Superman movie. I'm getting burned out on the crosshatch costume texture for superheroes, but that S symbol is a nice throwback.

A Time of Suffering

2011-08-08T10:25:00.000-04:00

This weekend was horrible.

The sidekick continued to tumble after a few steps, and he started these half-hour throat-shredding screaming fits, often in the dead of night. What we thought was the hallelujah rash turned out to be a reaction to amoxicillin, and he wasn't showing any improvement. Sunday morning, Your Sister officially had it and made an appointment that morning for the doctor. She drove like the devil to get to Hendersonville.

We were told his ears looked terrible and he needed stronger medication. He got a shot of rocephin and new prescription for cefdinir (a lost Lord of the Rings character, we think) and more ear drops. We took turns last night getting up every two hours to flood his ears with the drops and stave off the pain. He slept through almost all of it. But we are the walking dead.

Your Sis and I are on eggshells with each other as we are frazzled, but we are grateful to the doctor for assuring us that we did exactly the right thing by making a new appointment based on his unusual behavior. While the initial prescription was for ten days, we couldn't wait that long for the first sign of improvement. He was miserable. We were miserable. We became impatient parents, and it paid off.

After some redundant conversations about his medicine with the daycare staff, he shocked us all by going with the employees with no fuss or tears. Not a sound. I think he may have crossed over. We really hope to sleep through the night tonight.

Picture of the Day
Chez Debacles is a testy house.

A Long Night

2011-08-05T10:16:00.000-04:00

The boy's fever spikes and wanes. He got a sponge bath in the dead of night and went to bed at 5 am. Your Sister had him most of the night, and I came in at the very end to put him to sleep. She's the starting pitcher, working the majority of innings with a variety of pitches, and I'm the closer. I throw only fastballs and work for a tenth of the time. It's not fair, but it works. If he's not better by tomorrow morning, we take him back to the doctor for stronger medicine. His nose seems cleaner at least. I wonder if I myself have some of this ear infection. I can hear some popping in my right ear. My won crud is vanishing, thanks to a cocktail of Quils and cough drops.

This followed an evening that left me walking on air, drunk on my awesomeness, following the Lions Club speech. You can read about it here.

Picture of the Day
The first image of Anne Hathaway from next year's Batman movie was released today. Hard to tell what she's wearing. At least it's black.

Diagnosis

2011-08-04T09:53:00.001-04:00

It's an ear infection. He saw a doctor yesterday and was prescribed drops of amoxicillin, benzocaine, and antipyrine. His fever is down to a manageable level, and all the medicine helps him sleep. As does mine. I took NyQuil after a hot soak to get through the night. It worked. I feel better than yesterday, but my throat is tight. My speech is tonight, and I am armed with green tea.

The speech is 17 pages double spaced, and I think that will get me through 20 minutes as requested. Still don't know what kind of crowd to expect. I'm taking a sample of comics as examples of singles, trades, etc. I picked expendable copies as I expect they'll either be mangled or taken home by someone who thinks they're free samples.

Addendum: I just saw on their website that their last two speakers for their monthly meetings canceled. I shall be their hero. And they had 12 people attend last month. I can handle that audience. I've performed in front of four people and other times, 600. And I have my script in front of me this time.

Picture of the Day
Gather 'round, everyone. Let's dissect comics.

Sick Leave

2011-08-03T10:35:00.000-04:00

The boy's fever and nose continue unabated. I think the fever spiked last night, and hope he'll be over this by the weekend. I'm at the office today, and Your Mom and Sis are watching him today. Becoming a parent has not made me less disgusted by sick babies, but my empathy helps me clean him up and comfort him. I'm throwing back Vitamin C to fend off the bug. My Lions Club speech is tomorrow, and the text is virtually finished.

Picture of the Day
USAToday broke the news yesterday that Marvel will put a mixed-race teen under the Spider mask. This will take place in an alternate-universe title, but the reaction has been as sweeping as you might expect. The only question I have is how he can embody the "great power/great responsibility" credo that makes Spidey so good a read.

Quick Update

2011-08-02T11:01:00.000-04:00

The sidekick has run just enough of a fever that the daycare won't take him, and I've been home Monday and today. He is flush with energy and snot, making him literally a running nose. By happenstance, this is a downtime in my office load, so I'm not falling behind. Your Sis and Parents are at her school reassembling her classroom. Also she might find out what classes she's teaching today. Maybe. If he's still sick tomorrow, Your Mom may have to watch him. This is the worst time for him to be sick. Your Sis can't get a substitute teacher to set up a classroom.

On Sunday morning, I yanked the rest of the potato plants (and their meager yield) and planted the next round of squash plants. And then it rained for nine hours. That should spark the seeds.

So ... Yeah

2011-07-29T13:59:00.000-04:00

The sidekick is a walking bruise. As he plays at walking faster and longer, he falls a lot. He comes home from daycare with new bruises daily. I fret that we'll get a call from social services.

As the school year approaches, we have to redo the household budget and plan for interrupted nights. He's able to sleep through the night again, but there are times he rouses and chirps before going under again. We're trying to encourage this ability, and we're able to distinguish noises to determine when he really needs attention.

I had one of those weeks that delivers a series of stomach punches. There wasn't one thing that alone was so distressing, but the number of them left me dazed and unsettled. Matters have stabilized as the week's progressed, and I'm again left confused if I handled each haymaker properly with my default, maddening patience or if I could have defrayed some frustrations by going volcanic. That option becomes so very tempting, if for no other reason than its novelty. It doesn't help that I too carefully pick my battles. Ultimately I pick no battles. I'm left then unsure what I'm more frustrated by: the situation or my reaction to it.

Picture of the Day
I cook angry!

Publicity Tour

2011-07-27T09:57:00.001-04:00

Out of the blue, the local Lions Club contacted Chez Debacles to ask if I would speak to them at their next monthly dinner. They saw my article in the paper and were apparently curious enough about making comics and comics in general that I seemed like a good idea for a dinner speaker.

(Aside of Insecurity: I suspect they desperately needed a speaker. The dinner is next week.)

I was told to prepare to speak for 15-20 minutes and hold a QnA session afterward. Easy enough. I'll talk about comics in general and their current pop-culture dominance. As I expect an older audiences, I'll toss in references to mid-century Superman radio dramas and Scrooge McDuck comics.Also, Captain America for the 'contemporary relevance' points.

This is certainly nothing that I expected in the wake of the article. But if I'm to be Local Comic Book Guy, this I can do. My Manager, Your Sister is giddy. We're working on names for this publicity tour. Like the Superlative Hyperbole Tour. Or the Inflated Sense of Importance Tour.

Picture of the Day
Super Macho Road Trip!

Cheat To Win

2011-07-26T09:15:00.001-04:00

no mic for me yet. i've got a test and presentation Friday so I probably won't be able to join you this week yet. but i'll find you. i'm stuck in new orleans rescuing the purple power thing ontop of the roof with snipers on every other roof. yes, i'm stuck at mission #2.

I had to use online walkthroughs just this weekend to get me past a monster you'll encounter in a month or so. I like the guides found on this site.

EDIT: I played an Infamous2 demo at Best Buy to kill lunch, and it seemed to be the mission you're in. Aim low and blast the balconies and towers. The folks will fall and die. Also, those snipers fire once and then cower. You might have luck charging at them and wailing away with the tuning fork.

Don't worry about a mic for now. Let me figure out how to chat first.

A daylong rain kept me out of the garden. No taters yet. Someone Twittered my Bossk Office, and it went kinda huge yesterday. And a lot of those visitors went to the Doom Blog.

Yesterday was Your Sister's last full day at home with the sidekick, and she's got the sadness. Looks now like she'll have just one week to prepare as many as four distinct classes. More sadness.

Picture of the Day
Annie Lennox in her solo career prime.

I'm not sayin'. I'm just sayin'.

Melting, Melting.

2011-07-25T15:48:00.000-04:00

The twin influences of home ownership dignity and property values demanded that I mow the lawn this weekend despite temperatures ranging into the millions. It was murder. I know I lost weight by the gallon. I had to take the weed-eater to the garden again, and, had the plants been further apart, I would have used the lawnmower. I hope to yank up potatoes today and ready the soil for planting more squash. The first batch of vines was pretty much a failure.

Instead of taking, say, a 13-year-old neighbor to see Captain America, I took Your Sister. We loved it. Loved it. It's a fun adventure film with great one-liners. I wrote about it in the new Bossk Office. It made me want to see Thor immediately. Next year looks to be huge for comic movies. Our babysitter is the sister to my movie-buddy, and I let her know I could take him within a few weeks if he needed a ride.

I stopped in at the local comic store and talked to the store owner about our newspaper page. He's gotten some business out of it and sold some of my books.

I've started shopping for PS3 mics and figuring out how to activate the chat option. I think it's done through the PS Home feature. It seems to be a mild version of Second Life. You can find me as heygregory on the PS servers. Currently I play around 11 pm as Your Sister begins her mysterious nighttime rituals. I'm probably 2 hours away from finishing Infamous2. I'm playing as a hero, and I'll immediately restart it as a villain so I can target street performers.

Picture of the Day
A photo from this weekend's Comicon.

Star Wars Blu-Ray Preview

2011-07-22T09:31:00.000-04:00

We'll get the first three films for sure, probably not the prequels.

System Addendum

2011-07-21T14:56:00.000-04:00

I popped into Gamestop during lunch and spotted this, a Wii controller designed like the XBox/PS3 versions:

I suppose this means you needn't disqualify Wii as an option. However, this contraption looks flimsy, and I can't vouch for the number of games it might work with. I'd still look to the other systems.

A used PS3 starts at $249; a used XBox runs $149. Depending on what comparable video services you get through your laptop, the PS3 price may be worth it.

Busted

2011-07-20T14:22:00.000-04:00

"Oh, just traipse down to Blockbuster and rent a game system."

Or maybe you live in a town, as I do, that just lost its Blockbuster. I'm saddened. I relied on the Buster of Blocks weekly in my high-school days (for movies my parents would/will never approve), and it served me well through my 20s and even after I married into your family. We hadn't stepped foot in our local store in maybe two years as we took advantage of the satellite dish's recorder and on-demand movie service, but still, it was a comforting presence. If the internets collapsed, we could always rent a DVD. No longer.

Just last week, I bought my first DVD in a year. Barnes & Noble had a Criterion DVD sale, and I got a copy of Naked Lunch for $20. I talked it up back in January. I specifically got it for the director/actor commentary, and it may be months before I can crack it open. It'll play in the background as I work on the next comic.

And on my lunch break, I noticed the Tunnel Road Blockbuster is also closed.

Hey, if there's a GameStop in town, you might be able to buy a used system for a song. They can also hook you up with all the equipment you might need.

Picture of the Day
Here's Entertainment Weekly's first look at the new Spider-Man and Gwen Stacy. They look the part, gotta say. Not sure we need another origin retelling for Spidey though.

Let's Talk Game Systems

2011-07-19T11:21:00.000-04:00

If you're looking for a game system to build eye-hand coordination, X-Box or PlayStation are your options. The Nintendo Wii is a motion controller with some buttons. It's a wand. Both X-Box and PlayStation offer body-motion control systems, but they also have the multi-button controllers too.

There are 12 buttons and two control sticks on their current controllers. You can swivel the sticks with your thumbs, and they also depress as a control option. There are wireless versions that provide vibrating feedback which parallels game action. The controllers recharge via USB connections to the systems. Here, the systems are equal.

So let's say you buy the system I have, the PS3. In addition to the eye-hand development, the system will connect online to allow Internet browsing and Netflix streaming. The PS3 is designed to be an all-in-one, providing photo, audio, and video playback on your TV. You can jack your laptop to it and stream your files. It's swank.

But to take advantage of the eye/hand development, you'll need to pick the big games, the biggest franchises in a variety of genres: sports, first-person shootes, role-playing, etc.

I recommend three games right now: Red Dead Redemption (a cowboy game), Uncharted 2 (an Indiana Jones adventure type, and I recommend this one for the humor and variety) and InFamous2 (a superhero game). These games make you use as many as four buttons at one time, meaning your thumbs and index fingers will be in play in various combinations within seconds of each other. This builds up your skills the most.

Almost any game offers a control tutorial to get you started so you could walk into any game with no previous controller experience and be fine. You'll go from random button-mashing to specific finger combinations within minutes, and you won't even look at your hands within half an hour. We had fun with Katamari Damacy, and that game also offers multi-button control but not on the split-second control change like the three games I mentioned above. You can download free demos through the PS3 and rent games from local outlets including, probably, the closest grocery store.

So, you gots options. Let's start from here.

+ + +

The boy is back at daycare, and his extended time away did him no favors. He was quiet and nervous as we walked in the door and a crying wreck before I left. It's not easy, but I think I honestly can weather this better than Your Sister. She's still new at leaving him, and she hasn't dropped him off at daycare. She's at work today for a full-day school meeting.

Picture of the Day
My Buddy.
My Buddy.
My Buddy and me!

We Said No. No, We Said.

2011-07-18T11:27:00.000-04:00

The boy has taken a decidedly obstinate turn, and we're playing the heavies. As a symptom of his daycare experience, he know think everything of interest can be grabbed and clutched. Getting a valuable item back from him is like yanking it from a lion's jaw, and he melts down when it's taken away. We try to distract him by pointing out the half-dozen geegaws he can play with, but the shrieking continues. This is pouting, and I'll only tolerate the silent version. Shrieking is verboten. Your Sister administered her first spanking last night when he stood up in the tub. I think I spanked him some months back to shock him out of a crying fit.

I missed the bath smack as I was watching Transformers 3, a film that exists for one technically astounding siege of Chicago that lasts one hour. Unfortunately, you have to sit through almost 90 minutes of inexcusable mugging and mindless plots to get there. The kid liked it, and I might have a movie date for Captain America. There's a cool revision of the Apollo moon missions involving talking robots, and I wondered what the Apollo astronauts might think of this. About an hour later, onto the screen walks Buzz Aldrin, the second moon walker. Good for him for getting a movie paycheck and a shout-out from Optimus Prime. That may have done more for NASA's cool factor than the last three shuttle launches.

Your Sis took the sidekick back to the doctor to confirm the hallelujah rash is just that. And he did. This means she can go back to daycare. Also, he isn't going to keel over at any moment, which is also good.

My eyes feel better, not so tender at the periphery. My stomach is a ruin after two consecutive nights of event food.

Picture of the Day
We're Facebook famous in a unidentified, regional, sport-specific manner. I mentioned derby to the movie buddy, and he said he was dying to go. I want to encourage his interest, but I don't want to expand our partnership much farther. I can be his friend, but I can't be his best friend.

This Post Ends With a Picture of a Fake Horse

2011-07-12T15:18:00.001-04:00

Thanks to Groupon, I have a fat bargain for an Asheville t-shirt shop. This shop has a good variety of graphics and shirt styles but -- but -- they have a strong deal for custom jobs. I can give them a graphic I made and get it professionally screened for a good price after the coupon is applied. I'm thinking of making a SCRAP League shirt.

I dropped off the boy at daycare, and he didn't seem at all rattled until I started to leave. I tried the toy-distraction trick and almost made it out of the room, but he spied me and fell apart. I had to take my leave as he was scooped up by an attendant and comforted. I was assured he'd be fine before I got back to the car. Still. It will be a relief when he gets past this.

The reporter contacted me to send him graphics for the article, and I now wonder how big this "sidebar" is gonna be. This might be a below-the-fold article on the front of the second section.

Your Sister and I watched an episode of the old Batman TV show which for many legal stupidities may never get on DVD. It was a Newmar Catwoman episode, and it was awfully awful. The best joke fell as Batman and Robin were tied to giant outdoor grills and smothered in oil

Robin: Holy oleo!
Catwoman: I didn't know you could yodel.

We probably won't watch the second show we recorded.

Picture of the Day
This is your mission should you choose to accept it.

The Good Guys Win

2011-07-11T11:06:00.000-04:00

The Brazil-USA soccer game may be the most astounding bit of sports I've ever seen. If you get a chance to watch it, do. Listen to the crowd become rabidly pro-US as Brazil stoops to blatant clock-killing theatrics. One gets the feeling that even if the US loses the semifinal game Wednesday, this victory is so dramatic, so good, that the team can be satisfied with this World Cup experience.

I don't know why it rattles me to see Hope Solo wearing so much make-up to play. I like to think it's warpaint.Otherwise, I feel like a scolding prude to tsk-tsk. I'm too young to start wagging a finger, and the majority of my brain doesn't understand where that annoyance springs from.

The sidekick has learned to stand by himself, and we of course assume he gleaned it at daycare. He also has become very clingy to me, and I'll bet money it's because I'm the one to "rescue" him from daycare. He now associates me with comfort. I'm OK with it. I scoop him up. He bounces in my arms. I ask him where a certain toy is, and he points to it and wants to play. Down he goes, and he's content for ten minutes or so. As he's aging, he's becoming much more self-sufficient for playtime.

The Saturday paper interview went very well, and the only way I can look badly upon it is if the interview makes me look like a schmo. We talked comics and papers for a few hours. The reporter used to read comics, and he has boxes of toys tucked away somewhere, waiting for a proper display place. He took photos of me inking a page from the eMMA comic and mentioned he might call to follow-up on quotes and questions we didn't get around to. We both arrived at the same conclusion: If you have the Internet and a way to put your work online, you are a comic publisher. I, who sell my books online and in stores, am a comic publisher. Any kid in Brevard can do this. You no longer need a print shop or the "proper" equipment. Draw it, scan it, link it = You're publishing.

The only hiccup for the interview was my failure to get a haircut beforehand. I went to the barbershop just after they opened, and it was already packed with tourists/camp workers. Also, one of the barbers went on vacation. After an hour, I had to go back home to wait for the reporter. I currently sport a pelt on my head, and I am not happy. I also had a bad experience at the grocery store with a rude shopper. Either he's an out-of-towner who thinks the townies are idiots, or he's a fellow townie who assumes anyone in his way is a tourist. Judging by the larger crowds everywhere, this weekend marks the arrival of the new folks. Suddenly, there's nowhere to park, and the lines are longer.

+ + +

My tomatoes are finally coming in, and I picked a few cherry tomatoes. Hokey smoke are they tomato-ey. They taste like four tomatoes in one skin. Your Sister requested I make more mashed potatoes from our garden pluckings, and I'm all for that.

Picture of the Day
Saturn is suddenly sporting a storm so big that it wraps around the upper hemisphere. I'm sure it's a forest fire set by illegals.

Media Exposure

2011-07-08T10:29:00.000-04:00

I'm going to be in the local paper again.

A reporter contacted about my unofficial station as the local comic artist. It's a sidebar for an article on the new comic store. The reporter found out about me via the minicomics on sale there, and I wouldn't be surprised if the store owner mentioned me by name. He's good like that. We set up an appointment for Saturday morning in my workshop. I told him about the article I wrote about myself for the Asheville convention; that should give him a strong base for our chat. I'll need to take down the nude fashion photos from the bulletin board lest they appear in the background of my portrait. That would make the average reader catch the vapors.

+ + +

The sidekick stays home today, and it appears he was losing the novelty of daycare. He lost composure as I dropped him off and picked him up yesterday, and we had to pull over as we left Asheville so he could collect himself enough to sleep. Your Sis hopes to wear him out enough today that he sleeps through the night again.

+ + +

The plentiful rain has inspired the pumpkin seeds to sprout already. They were put in the ground just under a week ago. The pea vines -- if they are pea vines and not an alien maneater with a flair for Motown -- are standing by themselves.

Picture of the Day
The last shuttle mission may begin today, weather permitting. The crew is limited to four people as that's how many can fit in a Syouz capsule docked at the space station if the shuttle is damaged in liftoff. I remember the shuttles debuts and, of course, the loss of two over the years. I think we'll have to rely on private enterprise to have a regular space program again, and that presents some interesting questions about ownership of extra-planetary territories when Richard Branson's ships land on the moon. Or Mars.

A Rough Adjustment

2011-07-06T10:08:00.001-04:00

Your Sister remains an emotional shambles.

The sidekick, by all accounts, did just fine yesterday. I heard nothing from the daycare, suggesting all was well. She called me about an hour after I dropped him off, and I walked her through the morning. I arrived there again after work and turned a corner to find him in the large communal room connecting the classrooms. I saw him before he saw me, and he was playing with a ball. He seemed fine. I called his name, and we caught eyes, and his face slowly fell into an exhausted cry. I scooped him up, and he hugged me back (a new trick of his), and he was bouncing and laughing within seconds. One of the minders equated his reaction to the emotional release of seeing someone after their plane lands.

We got him home and fed him and bathed him, and she tucked him in, and he was out by eight. But she was wobbly. She had called the daycare around 4 to get the skinny, unable to wait until I got home to hear how he did. She broke down a few times during the evening in what can only be called despair.

I feel responsible for this. Whatever the truth is, I think I talked her into having a child in hopes that he would provide the kind of love that I can't. I am too separated -- filtered maybe -- from the world, and that makes me seem aloof. Even dickish. I was sure that a child we raised would be directed away from that kind of reflex, and so far it's worked. But I should have realized that I also introduced her to someone who could break her heart. That's what's happening. Her heart is breaking as he goes off, hereafter interacting with her in a much smaller daily window. I felt this months ago when I realized that I also would only be with him for maybe 90 minutes a day. But again, this is what's good for him. He has to go out into the world and learn how it works so he can conquer it when he's ready. If we wanted to coop up an object of love, we should have bought a bird. I think she'll be OK in a few weeks.

He awoke around 10:30 in a hellacious fit. He was wired, he was screaming, he was inconsolable. We suspect it was gas. I was able to calm him down by letting him play in the crib, and he was out cold a half hour later. I suppose he was processing the day in addition to his upset stomach. It was the closest to colic that he's experienced in months.

This morning, I again dropped him off with little fuss. I noticed that he was playing with a Sesame Street toy there last week. It plays a snippet of Cookie Monster's 'C is for Cookie' song. This morning over breakfast, I sang him that same snippet. He looked at me with a mix of surprise and confusion; maybe he holds the home and daycare worlds that distinctly. When we got there this morning, he hovered close to me until I walked him to that toy and played him that snippet. He was engrossed in it as I left, and I felt relief that it had gone well. I have to believe the drop-off will only get easier over time. He'll go again tomorrow and stay home Friday. I hope Your Sister is comforted by his ability to handle that new place and its social packs. He's learning. That's what we want for him.

Oh, hey, guess what happens the weekend you visit? MUTHAFUCKIN' ROLLER DERBY! You're welcome to come along. We might have a small gang meeting up.

Picture of the Day
See you in a few hours, sidekick.

Off He Goes

2011-07-05T11:05:00.001-04:00

The boy is now at daycare for his first full day. Your Sister was a wreck last night. She knew this was coming, and we visited the daycare a few times to prepare him and us. But they've been a binary pair for a year now, and she put her career on hold to raise him. He gave her a new identity, and that's changing as of today.

I tried to assure her. I reminded her this was our plan all along, that we chose this daycare above the others, that we are lucky to have a child that has the development that allows daycare to be an option, that he isn't going to camp or war. It's a daytime teaching center, and we're advocates of public education. This is good for him. This is the best program we can give him. I'm a daycare baby, and if I can grow up to find a gal like Your Sister momentarily addled enough to marry me, then maybe daycare ain't so bad.

Then again, I've been leaving him behind every work day for a year now. This is her first shot at it. Yeah, she left him with family as she ran errands or attended workshops. But now he's just down the road from me, and, emotionally for her, he might as well be in Swaziland. She's visiting with a college buddy today, and that will distract her.

She called me about an hour after I got to work to hear how his arrival went. He seemed mostly OK. It's been almost a whole week of new people and places, and he's processing it all. He had bad dreams the last few nights, but a drink of water and a cuddle puts him right out in a few minutes. Turns out a drink of water in the middle of the night really does work for kids. Also he has a new truck toy to obsess over, and he's already making engine noises with his mouth. That seems like the play of an older kid.

Our Sister-In-Law was shocked and dismayed that we didn't prepare a small cake for the sidekick to demolish on his first birthday. I'd even say she was horrified. She explained to the other party folks that you're supposed to make such a cake and videotape the cake violence so you can watch it over and over. But we don't do that. As you saw at his birth, we'd rather experience the moment instead of stepping back to document it. That's our parental style. But we do appreicate her taking so many pictures during the party. We took none. We were busying hosting or baby chasing.

And now, of course, he's baptized and officially dedicated to a Christian life, and this was her hope and choice. I wasn't consulted. I don't object; it's for her benefit, and I'm for making her happy. You can't expect a baby to commit to anything other than mashed bananas, I'd argue, and as long as he isn't subjected to the spiritual browbeating and mental discouragement that I grew up with in a church, I have no problem with this. But the first time I hear he has to convince himself he's no good and inherently damaged, I'm yanking him out of there.

In other news, I yanked up some potatoes Saturday morning. We got 20 from five plants, and two were chucked for suspect bug holes. I planted pumpkin where some potato stalks stood. I think we're gonna get a heap of tomatoes ripening at one time.

Picture of the Day
I need to relax. I'll unwind with some caffeine.

Further Exposure

2011-07-01T12:40:00.000-04:00

The second visit I made with the sidekick to the daycare was good and bad. 'Good' in that the awful nose gunk had vanished from the other kids. 'Bad' in that the boy got upset, and we could only remain hidden, allowing the sitters to settle him down. He was doing well for a time; he continues to sit with a book or toy and entertain himself. I'm fine with that. He's an only child. He has limited social time, and we've steered him toward solitary amusements.

I think this is healthy. I think it fosters independence. I learned it when I was young, and it makes me compatible with Your Sister. Not only can we occupy ourselves while sharing a room, but it means we can make use of personal downtime with a variety of options. We don't get bored. We don't demand to be entertained or attended to.

They were able to distract him from his tears, settling him with a toy or song. That's the real secret to comforting a baby: distraction. It also works for saying 'no.' If he wants to play with some restricted item, saying 'no' and changing the subject keeps him from fighting the instruction. We set him down and stayed out of eyesight while we chatted with the sitters (attendants? baby monitors?). He's the new kid in the group, and he has to learn the pack rules. There's a kid who commandeers toys at will, causing tears and wailing. I don't like him. There's also a girl who's fighting to be the alpha of the bunch. We hope we've taught him to be resilient as the relationships sort themselves out.We left after about half an hour. On Tuesday, I'll take him for a full day, and he'll go three days consecutively each week until Your Sister goes back to school in August. I still remember my pre-kindergarten days. I loved the daycare I was in. I hope he grows to enjoy this place.

+ + +

We found a zucchini in the garden, suddenly full and ripe, and Your Sister deemed it ready to eat. She plucked it while offering a new schedule for grabbing the gourds. I disagreed, and she persisted, so I decreed she would now be responsible for squash harvesting. I'll mind the 'maters and taters.

+ + +

The usual juggling of notions has begun as family comes into the area for the weekend. We might entertain the nieces Saturday but going to Asheville for a group supper is almost impossible given the sidekick's bedtime. Your Sister feels the pinch of clashing schedules. I'm on the periphery of this. I go where she points. We'll recover Monday with a mutual holiday.

Picture of the Day
Sean Connery will not sell your wares.

Gooey

2011-06-29T11:15:00.001-04:00

The sidekick again visited the daycare, and this was the first time I was with him. My God. All those kids have noses running with various colored goo. I want to boil myself. The boy seemed just fine. We sat him down in the common area for his age group, and he started playing with this toy and that toy. The other kids were squabbling over their toys, and our guy looked ten times smarter for avoiding the pack. I want him eventually to be social with them, and he might be once we're not hovering over him. He can ease his way into the group. That's fine.

I was invited to sit among the kids, and I found a chair in the corner. The kids eyed me up for a few minutes, and some went back to their toys. I saw some books on the floor and showed them to Parker, asking silently if he wanted one. He decided to play instead with the toy vacuum. Another kid, the lone girl, picked up a book, walked up to me, and held up her arms in the universal "pick me up" gesture. I heaved her up and sat her on my leg and read her a book. She would stare at my face and then back at the book. We finished the book, and she walked off to get another one and came back to return to her roost. We went through about four, and her patience shortened with each book. Eventually she walked off. The novelty was over. Another kid started to walk over, but he had some foul gunk coming out of his nose, and I shuffled away to the other side of the room.

The attendants seemed in control and patient, but I felt those pangs that plague Your Sister: We should keep him home. We should never let him out into the world. I squashed those quickly. He can't conquer the world from our cocoon.She again mentioned her hesitance to send him to daycare full time, and I asked what kind of public-education advocated we'd be if we kept our kid at home.

But those icky noses gave me the creeps.I think I caught the bug he had last Friday. I'm flooding my system with Vitamin C and Ricola. Yesterday's vaccinations don't seem to have affected him.

Picture of the Day
Ah, I see.

Check Up

2011-06-28T11:41:00.000-04:00

The sidekick had his one-year checkup, complete with five vaccinations in preparation for daycare. He's completely normal if a little under the curve in weight. Your Sis is afraid we're underfeeding him, but he knows how to ask for food and doesn't get desperate for snacks. I think he's eating fine. We gave him a little more to help him sleep. The doctor says he's just perfect. He visited the daycare and attended a swim class, so, yes, he slept through the night. He slept like the dead. He even slept though a diaper change.

It's a horrible feeling to go to bed anxious that he'll wake up, screaming and inconsolable. Every movement and noise he makes jolt me awake. Your Sister dives straight into sleep while she can. I never picked up that talent. Before we married, I would go to sleep listening to the radio. Your Sister can't sleep that way, and I acquiesced, and I still occasionally get distracted by branches on the siding and the house settling. The boy doesn't share this problem. He doesn't seem to associate our walking noises with our proximity, if he hears them at all, nor does he get rattled by weather noises or the house settling. He is his mother's son.

Another fucking hailstorm gave my potato plants the business, and I had to bolster a few with stakes and string. I think I'll have to yank up the taters this weekend before the big baptism party. That will give me space to plant some late-season stuff, like pumpkin.

Picture of the Day
Seacrest out.

Things Was Did

2011-06-27T10:40:00.000-04:00

The deputy visited his daycare-to-be Friday and immediately picked up whatever nose-flood bug the kids had. He was cranky with the babysitter that night and has slept poorly this weekend. Lovely. We knew daycare would expose him to everything in hopes it would strengthen his immune system. I had hoped, though, that the exposure would be more gentle and less goo-inducing.

We hired a sitter to attend an anniversary party for Travis and Kathy. It was at a German restaurant, and I of course ate American food. They had a deal on steak. and I pounced on it. We haven't had red meat in the house for almost a month as part of our communal diet. It's worked; Your Sister's pre-pregnancy clothes wear baggy on her now. During appetizers, we ordered at the bar, and I had my first Manhattan. I blamed the order on reading Esquire all these years. It's a nice drink; I see why it's a classic.

I sat with an acquaintance I met through Travis -- a guy we see maybe once every two years -- and we discovered that I had seen him in a production of Little Shop of Horrors while I was at my first college. He acted alongside my girlfriend at the time, the woman who became my first wife, and we exchanged notes on her stagecraft. We both remembered that particular performance because, at her request despite his reservations, he slapped the crap out of her onstage. I jumped in my seat. He was apologetic about the moment during our meal, and I assured him I knew she would request that, and I myself was likewise clobbered onstage around the same time in a Look Homeward Angel scene with another actress. We debated ways the local theatre group could reverse its fortunes, and how we'd run a theatre. We also talked genre shows and Def Leppard. A fine time, as you can imagine.

On Saturday, Your Sister shopped for baby stuff with Your Mom while I tended to the garden and ran. That afternoon, I took a friend's son to see Green Lantern (a solid C+ production; bad pacing, odd story movement, and a hanging subplot that demanded closure in such a boys film). He was wild about the trailer for the new Transformers movie, and I offered to take him to that if he couldn't get a movie date otherwise. I was worried about how we'd relate. We may have said ten words to each other prior to this. But we talked the whole drive home about the film we just saw and the ones he wants to see, including Captain America. He was jazzed after seeing GL; it was exactly what he wanted.

This might become a regular thing during the summer if not longer. We seem to be bonding over video games and comics, and movies, proving that Your Sister married a sorry manchild. He and his sister were done dirty by their fucktard father, and their mom is worried about his continuing response to an ugly divorce. She jumped at the chance to get him out of the house with what can only charitably be called a good role model.

It may be the cold, but the deputy is wolfing down more food than normal. He practically ate all her rice at the Mexican restaurant yesterday. He's only run into one food he didn't like, and those green beans may have been cooked wrong. He got a rocking horse and a new bear for his birthday, but the cold seems to have sapped his curiosity for either.

Because of Murphy's Law, my garden is a fantastic grass orchard and a middling veggie plot. I had to use a weedeater to cut the grass back so I could merely see the squash plants. I also forgot a pen in my jeans pocket and ruined a load of laundry. Virtually all the affected clothes were mine.

Picture of the Day
Protect me, Mister Lion Action Pants!

Retelling Retailing

2011-06-24T11:07:00.001-04:00

I wonder sometimes if I'm ignored by so many store associates because they consider me too old to shop there. I hovered in American Eagle for about ten minutes, scouring the shelves for a shirt I saw on a mannequin. Finding only the one of those shirts in XXL (which I could use as a bedspread), I scanned the barcode with my scifi-future-magic phone and took pictures of the sales tag to track it down on the store's website. I can't believe none of the three associates who I spied failed to notice me.

When I worked retail, and granted this was literally decades ago, I preferred to help this kind of shopper -- someone who was actively, if not aggressively, looking. They were engaged. They knew what they wanted. They were the highlight of my dreary day, and the nightmare was type of shopper who walks into my department and stops dead still, staring blankly at the back wall of the store as if God will use the Force to levitate what they want through the very air and at their feet. That guy only knows what he doesn't want and can in no way articulate what they came to buy. That guy will devour hours of your time and complain the whole time.

I bought a similar shirt in a different color when I remembered I already had a blue striped shirt from AE. And much to my surprise I bought it a size smaller than I expected. I tried on a medium and a small, and the small is the better fit. Men's clothes used to be reliably consistent. Now I gotta treat every item of clothing like jeans.

Still, I got a shirt that looks decent during my lunch break. I think I shopped well.

+ + +

My Mom watched the sidekick yesterday, and today he is visiting the daycare for a few hours. He failed to sleep through the night, and he was oddly difficult to put down after supper. Maybe his system's still frizzed from cold medication.

+ + +

Your Sister and a coworker volunteered me to take her son to see Green Lantern this weekend. He's apparently dying to see it. I asked this morning if it's OK to catch a 2D viewing, and he said he wouldn't care. Good. I can't see the 3D stuff. To me, it looks like the last ten minutes of 2001.

+ + +

Your Sister is dismayed to learn that the transfer of power at the school is a muddle. She was asked to coordinate schedules for next year by the outgoing principal. Not only can't schedules be made until the school hires replacement teachers, she's not the person who should be doing this; the current department chair is. And the outgoing principal will have no oversight on whatever schedule is made. We suspect he asked Your Sister because she happened to be at the school yesterday, and making the request allowed him to check an item off his out-the-door to-do list. She's meeting Sunday with some teachers to straighten this mess out.

Moving Picture of the Day
The new trailer for the Captain America movie. It continues to look a little flat -- as in "those sets look like backlots" -- but the low-budget retro style harkens back to Rocketeer and Raiders of the Lost Ark. Hopefully it won't be as middling as The Shadow and Phantom. Those films couldn't elevate themselves beyond the stifling doldrums of b-movie cliches. I think Marvel will be happy if it makes $70 million, just as long as it properly prepares audiences for next year's giant Avengers film.

Evolving Plans

2011-06-23T11:52:00.000-04:00

He slept through the night. We're too exhausted to jump for joy. I suspect he tried to milk our willingness to attend to him in the night. We ran to the crib during his cold, but we slowly pulled back from that so he'd relearn to put himself back to sleep. It seems to have taken.

Your Sister decided to introduce him to daycare at a slower pace. Starting in a few weeks, he'll go three days a week instead of the five we agreed upon. She says he wants to enjoy the time with him before she goes back to work. He has been her primary (and secondary and tertiary and, um, fourth-erary) concern for a year now, and it's gotta be a hard habit to break. From a pragmatic POV, this affects me not. I'm at the office whether he's at home or in daycare. I have no reason to object to her schedule alterations. Also, come on, Your Sister makes about nine schedules and then changes them all before the big event, whatever it is. I think she proposed four snack options last night in a ten-minute period. I just answer "OK" and wait for the next change. This may be the secret of husbandry: Be a flow-goer.

The grandmothers are watching him on consecutive days to allow Your Sis to get some yardwork done. Although I dunno how much she can do during all this rain. I worry that the nationwide bee disease has hit our garden; the squash plants have not turned from blossoms to gourds yet. Although the tomatoes flowers have changed to cheery sprouts.

Picture of the Day
I usually never notice grafitti, but this is nice.

New Digs

2011-06-22T10:14:00.000-04:00

The new Heygregory.com is active.

I adore GoDaddy's tech support (a top-quality service in no way mentioned in the cheesecake ads), but the very limited web-building software made updating my site a chore. A big chore. A chorezilla. So it's gone.

Hopefully the new site will spur more sketching. I've noticed a number of comic people have gone this route for their sites, and it makes all kinds of sense. Your Sister noted how bizarre it is to now live in a world where websites -- distinct from blogs -- are considered obsolete. GoDaddy is probably great for big businesses, but for me and my modest product field, it doesn't make financial or practical sense to invest in a giant web presence like they offer. Also, because of GoDaddy's weak folder and shop systems, I was driven to Flickr and PayPal for the crucial elements of my website.

+ + +

Again, the sidekick didn't make it through the night. He clearly has the all-or-nothing sleep cycle of a sick kid. I got him at midnight, and he was oddly quiet, with eyes wide open and body still, before shutting down completely within minutes. He switched off. Powered down. Out out out.

He's gotten so cocky about walking that he's pushing himself into running, and he's falling. He busted his gums yesterday on a faceplant. He bled and cried for ten minutes and then ran off, forgetting that anything happened.

Picture of the Day

Helen Mirren in a championship belt. Wowsers. It's eMMA in 40 years.

Reaping What Was Sown

2011-06-21T11:33:00.000-04:00

The fever broke, and the boy seems to have avoided hand-and-mouth. He has a sore throat made obvious by coughing and some difficulty eating, and we continue with Tylenol and ice water. He didn't sleep through the night, but it was a much better block of hours than Sunday night. I like to think he fought off a worse infection due to his homebrewed diet, but I don't know what the other kids are eating. Maybe I just want some credit for his immune system, ironic considering I was convinced last year that my inherited immune system would practically cripple him.

+ + +

I made a simple support fence for the pea vines (a term my inner fourth-grader continues to laugh at). It's made of six-foot tomato stakes and string running horizontally and vertically. It's not pretty, but I can bolster the fencing if the vines need a sturdier scaffold. The squash plants have not yet sprouted gourds, and I suspect the continuing nationwide bee disease has affected our garden.The tomato plants look OK, so I dunno. There's still time to plant more squash plants before fall's frost is a factor.

Picture of the Day

My grandfather's work was doo-doo!

A Wobbly Weekend

2011-06-20T11:36:00.000-04:00

The boy may have picked up the hand and foot and mouth virus. A playmate was diagnosed with it last week only after they had rendezvoused. He hasn't developed the tell-tale hand and mouth blisters yet, so he may have only a cold. Or the signs may emerge within the next few days. Either way, he has a moderate fever (101-104), and he didn't sleep last night, and we are the walking dead. We gave him baby Tylenol and called the local nurse hotline. We were told to continue what we were doing and take him into a doctor only if he didn't develop new symptoms. When I cuddled him at 3 am, he didn't fell like the ball of fire he had on Sunday, so I'm thinking the fever is gone. I took some Vitamin C when my throat got scratchy, but that may have been psychosomatic.

We didn't know he was developing a cold/virus earlier in the weekend. He got a babysitter Friday night while we met up with some English teacherfolk, and we drove to a nearby-ish celebrity-animal zoo Saturday. He took it mostly in stride, panicking slightly when some animals got a bit close (a goat licked his foot). He seemed most taken with the occasional truck that zoomed by. The heat and travel zapped him, and we left before trying the safari bus ride. Just as well, I think; a mob of screaming kids in a hot bus surrounded by water buffalo might have been a disaster. He'll get more out of the zoo as he gets older. I didn't see any elephants, but we did hear the lion roar.

We got home just in time to meet the local crew pressure wash the house. I've felt crummy for not keeping the siding clean, and Your Sister hired them as an early Father's Day present.

My first Father's Day was low key as we watched the boy and stayed indoors. I've started a daily sketch exercise, and I'll use those scans to fuel a new version of the website. I'm going to move it to a blog on this service, as I've seen other artists do, and that will encourage me to make with the scratchings and more easily maintain online updates and art stuff. I'll link to the new site when it's active.

Picture of the Day
Brush brush brush.

Doctor Doctor, Give Me the News

2011-06-17T14:08:00.000-04:00

The sidekick saw the ENT today, and his Prevacid dosage was cut back to a half pill a day. If the original symptoms return, we go back to full dosage for a kid his age. I think he'll be fine. He doesn't make any snoring noise the way he used to.

I heard back about my blood tests, and my total cholesterol is elevated from December but still within safe numbers. HDL is up but not enough. LDL is up but still safe, and my triglycerides dropped like a rock. I checked my exercise heart rate (128 a minute), and that seems optimal.

We're planning to take the boy to his first zoo tomorrow. There's a celebrity animal refuge near my hometown, and it offers a "safari" bus ride and the ability to hand feed animals. Your Sister is seriously jazzed for this; I wonder how well he'll recognize animals from the storybooks.

Picture of the Day
Looks like more exercise for me!

Waiting for Results

2011-06-16T11:47:00.000-04:00

Our regular GP is out with a new baby, and I met her temporary replacement yesterday. He asked to run a follow-up blood test to see where my HDL is now. It was low enough last year that I was put on fish pills. I went in this morning for the blood draw and was told the office would call me tomorrow with the results. If further action is needed, they'll bring me in all quick like to get me fixed up. I feel fine. I'm running again and gardening and chasing the sidekick and biking (but not this morning; I was told to refrain from eating and exercising before the test).

The neighborhood was whacked by a strong summer storm complete with hail. The deck was covered in dead branches, and the garden was lucky to duck a strong blow. I added tomato cages this morning. I need to read up on trellises for the pea vines.

Your Sister took the sidekick to a local stone store for lawn accessories, and he went ape shit over the giant vehicles. We don't have any of these toy types, and he doesn't seem them on TV or in books. Yet he adores --suddenly, completely -- big construction real-life Tonka trucks. Maybe it is gender genetics.

The new blog artwork is from Time Bandits, an early film by Terry Gilliam and Michael Palin which I adored as a kid. It's about little assistants for God yoinking a map of the universe to hop through time and steal as much as they can carry. They accidentally team with an English boy and move toward The Most Fabulous Object in the World, unfortunately located in the lair of Ultimate Darkness. It's a fine boys film.

Picture of the Day
We must choose the right outlets for assistance.

Up and At 'Em

2011-06-15T10:33:00.000-04:00

This marked my third consecutive morning of running. Monday and Tuesday were boot-camp jogs intended to assure me I could at least make the route without stopping. This morning, I decided to push it, and I cut more than a minute off of this week's run time. I hoped to bike, but I forgot we keep the bike helmets in the nursery, and I didn't want to wake up the deputy. I need to switch up my morning exercise, and I like the idea of biking to supplement the run and floor exercises. I have a doctor's appointment today to follow-up on my check-up some months back. The exercise and triple-omega pills should be paying off by now.

I can't take credit for getting up early and running. I'm naturally waking up a good half hour before my alarm goes off, and we've had enough rain that I don't need to water the garden. I've got the time, and summer fashions tell me I need to shape up.

HBO showed Little Shop of Horrors often and daily. It might have been the movie from my teen years that prepared me for the classic musicals I saw a few years later. In the space of about four years, I was introduced to Fiddler on the Roof, Rocky Horror, and Oklahoma. The latter hooked me on the genre. I was probably in my late 20s before I realized Wizard of Oz was a musical. Back when CBS aired it in the time before VCRs, you saw it once a year.

Moving Picture of the Day
Sesame Street takes on the cursed Spider-Man musical.

Just An Excuse to Post Videos from The Tony Awards

2011-06-13T10:51:00.002-04:00

For our anniversary, we hired a babysitter Friday night and caught the new X-Men movie. It's the goods. It cobbles a number of classic X-Men comic moments and makes new story with them. The acting is top-notch, and the action is good. It also rewards loyal viewers of the first three X-Men movies.

The local comic store informed me that three minicomics had sold in the past two weeks. Woo.

We biked between thunderstorms Saturday afternoon. The sidekick is taking to it well. We can't ride the bikes back up our hill, and I shoved the boy-burdened bike as we finished riding. It sucks to run it too. But run it I did this morning. I got up before seven and ran our route in under 21 minutes. The school traffic was thin enough to assure me I wouldn't get plastered by a bus. I dunno if I can do this every day, but I did get a good weekend workout between the bike and gardening.

Also, a neighbor's tree rotted and collapsed across the road on Sunday. I only noticed it when I saw traffic slowing in front of our driveway. None of the tree parts landed on our property, but I didn't see anyone cleaning it up. Out I went. It was light work as the tree felt like Styrofoam. The neighbor thought a branch had fallen and thought nothing of it. He didn't seem too concerned when I rang his doorbell and informed him. The pieces were all there as we left town later that morning and returned that night.

We went back to my hometown for a reunion of my maternal grandmother's family. The deputy was cooed over the whole time. Because I was carrying him for the event, we put his nametag on his back, and people knew his name before they talked to us. He watched the older kids play basketball, and he was itching to join in. After, we had our first swim in My Mom's pool. He took to it with relish after weeks of being trained to splash in the tub. He has a swim bodysuit with a hood, and he floated in a small tube raft. When we poured him back into the car, he slept like a coma patient.

+ + +

As Your Sister wades into the deeper waters of the teacher pool, she learns many a thing:

1) One teacher is moving. His departure surprises us both.

2) Another teacher is staying. Her continuance surprises us both.

3) It's presumed that Your Sister will be department chair. She'd rather not. I'm trying to comfort her by saying that the sidekick's sleep cycle and time at daycare affords her a lot of time to be chair and do chair things.

4) She's teaching AP again, requiring her to scrape together a syllabus before summer.

5) The county manager's budget proposal calls for $38,000 to be cut from the library, virtually all of it from new-acquisition moneys. That affects the teachers who want to order books for their classes. To secure enough copies of one book, she contacted an Asheville bookstore, and they had four copies of it. By the time I got there the next day, they had eight more copies. The cost of these books is, of course, coming out of our pockets. (Oh, and the library budget cuts means they're scrapping periodicals for a year. That's my favorite library section.).

6) The state budget has decreed that schools will have five fewer teacher workdays as they become full school days. This is packaged as a cost-cutting measure, but it adds five days to the 180-day mandatory schedule, and it requires five additional days of utilities, buses, and school meals. The governor vetoed it, but the legislature says they'll override.

+ + +

We watched the Tonys last night, and it may have been the best broadcast of the show I've seen. The musical numbers this year were all stellar, and let me post two great examples.

If you don't watch the Tonys -- if you have no real interest in Broadway -- I can't blame you. Broadway has catered to the tourist crowd hard in the last ten years and only recently pulled itself out of the jukebox musical genre (take the biggest hits of a mainstream artist & build a plot around it -- you know, ABBA, Beach Boys, Bob Dylan, etc.). But I think the American musical is swinging back to a proper display of talent and skill. Now, yes, the new trend is to make musicals based on popular films, and this clip is from the adaptation of Catch Me If You Can, the Spielberg/DiCaprio film. The star of the show -- Norbert Leo Butz -- won the Tony for Best Musical Actor last night for this show (and maybe this number), and he won a Tony a few years back for his work in the musical based on Dirty Rotten Scoundrels.

Anyway, in a Tonys show that was PACKED with talent this year, this number stood out even against hot, hot performances from The Book of Mormon and How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying and Sister Act. This number, I think, stole the show, and god damn if I don't want to audition for a show right now.

And here's Harry Potter tearing it UP in his show. This kid is good.

Your Sister asked if, in all my theatre interest, if I ever wanted to be a song-and-dance man. Of course, but it's only been recently that I felt like I had the pipes to do a decent job. For example, the dentist in Little Shop of Horrors? I can do that.

Leo Bloom in The Producers? I can do that.

As I finished my run this morning, I passed a neighbor who's been in a few local shows with me, and he asked if I was coming back to work with the local company. If I didn't have such sour memories of bad choices and backstage drama, I'd hop at the chance to do the latest musical (Annie, by the way). But I can't risk shouldering Your Sister with a revived work schedule and the boy for such a chunk of time only for me to regret working with people who can't learn their lines.

Summer Doings

2011-06-08T11:54:00.000-04:00

Yep, he's sleeping through the night. Victory.

For Father's Day, I bought a new video game. It's my first Father's Day present, and it's a game I've wanted for a while. I played it last night for an hour. The main character seems to move faster than the camera, creating a dizzying rate of motion and a fear that I'm becoming too old for this stuff.

The Doom Gallery has, as they say, blown up. I bought the domain name cookingwithvillainy.com through Blogspot and discovered domain names for their blogs are only $10 a year. That's a bona fide steal.

We are preparing for a reunion with my family this weekend and the deputy's baptism in July. Your Sister revels in organizing, and now that she's relatively well rested, she's eager to tackle the specifics of hosting a baptism party. She considered renting another bounce house for the attending kids, but there aren't enough of them to justify the high rental cost. Maybe we'll set up sprinklers for them to run through.

I hope we get to bike Saturday. I got that jonesin'. I was scheduled to give blood that morning, but the continued dithering and hard sell by the local organizer soured me on it. His repeated calls to confirm and micromanage vexes me. I'm protesting by sitting out this local donation drive. I can go to another location if my sense of civic duty starts to itch.

As a result of meeting with a longtime -- and I mean, elementary school -- acquaintance at HeroesCon, I'm thinking of organizing an anthology comic to sell at next year's show. She seemed excited for it. But indy anthologies are common, and we'd need a really, really great idea to gin up submissions.

Picture of the Day
Barnes & Noble expanded their comic selection recently. The photo shows the new comic shelves on the lefthand side, right next to mainstream magazines. This is kinda a big deal for the industry after decades of comics dwindling in mainstream outlets in favor of comic stores. Those stores compete directly with the Barnes and Books-A-Millions and Borders (soon to die) over the graphic-novel and manga markets, but enjoyed the advantage for single issues (or floppies, a term used derisively for a format some see as outdated).

This is the display stand in the Asheville B&N, and those comics represent what used to be stocked in convenience stores in spinner racks. I still want a spinner rack for the living room. I'm stymied in every search. I don't see this new initiative hurting comic stores so much. They stock many many more singles each week, and they allow customizable pull lists for customers. Making such a list guarantees you won't miss an issue and allows you to pop into the store when you want, without fear of sellouts.

HeroesCon 2011

2011-06-06T13:14:00.000-04:00

I went to HeroesCon with the Doom sketchbook and came away with fewer than I hoped but of a better variety than I expected. Saturday is the big-money day, and many of the more recognizable star artists were already working on commissions or in panels. I couldn't get their attention, or they had to decline. Understandable. Luckily that allowed to troll the independent artists, an ilk I like to pretend I'm now a part of. Many folks were nonchalant about doing a sketch for a theme book until they got the full sales pitch; once they got the joke, they were in.

The Chef Doom artwork is here. It's gotten some good responses on other sites.

It was a great crowd as always. The Greenville comic people asked me about joining them next year, and I will if I can make at least two books before then. It's very feasible.

The show also offers collectible shopping, and the vendors are taking a bath on Star Wars items. The market has bottomed out, and what were once top-dollar toys are dirt cheap.

Costumes! These in no way represent the number of costumes on display. These are what I could get between waiting for Doom sketches. I spent the majority of the day hovering over tables waiting for the sketches. Closer to the end of the day, I was invited to scoot and come back for the book. I did that, and I was able to see the whole convention.

Captain America, Harlequinn, Batgirl

Cobra!

Firestar

Kick-Ass and Hitgirl

Superman

I had dinner with online friends and got home right at 11. I slept like the dead.

Speaking of, we may have finally trained the sidekick to sleep through the night. We are almost drunk on a full night's sleep.

Putting My Notion in Motion

2011-06-03T13:01:00.000-04:00

HeroesCon is this weekend. This is one of the biggest conventions on the East Coast and is regarded nationwide as the friendliest for creators and fans. It will be about five times the size of Fanaticon. It runs Friday through Sunday, and I will be there tomorrow, hobnobbing and networking. I'm taking comics to hand out 'cause I'm shameless.

A few years ago, someone came up with the idea for a theme sketchbook. You pick an idea and go to each artist at a show and ask them to draw that idea. I haven't done this before, and I decided rather late in the week to start one on Chef Doom. I think this will go like crazy. I'll post the images on the Cooking With Villainy! blog. The convention scene has been tainted in recent years by artists doing free sketches only to see the recipients sell them for big bucks on eBay. They resent that. But sketches in a book can't pull in the kind of money as would sketches on artboard, so they're considered less of a risk for artists. I suppose I'll get dozens of sketches for this. I hope to.

+ + +

The sidekick is adjusting to our new policy of ignoring him at night. He slept all night last night, and he may have been helped by a security blanket (actually a burp cloth). This is the only thing we've seen him cling to during feedings.

+ + +

I still haven't heard from the Asheville bookstore that offered to stock my comics. I also haven't yet found the online sale the museum claimed they'd hold for the leftover auction pieces. No idea how my piece did.

+ + +

The garden survived a flash hailstorm yesterday. Things are growing very slowly, and I don't know why. The potatoes haven't blossomed. The squash plants have, but the blossoms haven't turned into gourds yet. The tomato blossoms remain closed. The pea plants are still underground, and the sweet potatoes are at a standstill. The garden gets water every day. We got sun, we got compost. But we don't got progress.

+ + +

Your Sister dashed out last night to ambush the county commissioners before another budget meeting.

Picture of the Day
Well, that's just rude.

I don't think I mentioned that an unknown neighbor posted signs throughout the 'hood, including on a pole on our property, warning folks that someone is shooting pets with a pellet gun. I have to admit, I've been tempted to use one on the cats that shit in the garden.

Baby Baby, Let Me Sleep On It

2011-06-02T10:41:00.000-04:00

In the face of waking up several times each night to comfort a baby who snaps back to sleep as soon as he's picked up, we've decided to use the nuclear option: ignoring him. I've wondered for a while now if we're coddling, if we've trained him to wake up just enough to want help going back to sleep, and Monday night may have put Your Sister on the same wavelength. She was sleeping on the floor of his nursery as I left for work the next morning. That shit won't do.

For the last two nights, we've put him down after a bath and supper and some cuddling and left him be. If he's awake, he's awake. And when he is, he screams for company. But that's all he wants. He's fed, he's warm, he's dry. It's nighttime, however, and he must learn to downshift when we finish the routine and set him in the crib. We turn the monitor down and let him wail his lungs out until he's unconscious. Last night we decided to test him and not wake him up for a diaper change and nursing. He slept until almost daylight. Eight hours straight. That's almost six glorious hours of uninterrupted sleep, and that is a rarity. But hopefully we can make that the norm. We had also agreed last night to ignore him if he woke up in the middle of the night, but we didn't have to.

I admit it feels cruel, but it's the kind of literal tough love that we agreed to before we knocked ourselves up. If he can learn to accept bedtime and switch off now, it can only help Your Sister prepare for the school year.

Our new supper schedule sees her putting him to bed each night while I cook the meals. If it was her night to make dinner, she'll prepare the ingredients, and I'll cook them according to the recipe. She still does yoga on Wednesdays, and those are the nights I put him down and make dinner. It's my best opportunity to pull my weight.

I'm tweaking the website soon. I'm making more use of Flickr to host my images. I'm tempted to combine this blog and my site, but I still want to keep Your Sister as private as practical.

Picture of the Day
Save me, Super Lightning Tiger. Save me from the sleepless toddlers.

Gear Shift

2011-05-31T10:28:00.000-04:00

I bought some more stands for the minicomics and made labels with a short synopsis and prices. I also added "locally produced minicomic" in hopes that would sway purchases. On Friday, I stopped by the Asheville comic store. The shop owner said the books would probably not sell until they move into their new store, and I can see why. They are a store of piles right now. They need more room for everything. Because he didn't mention shelf rent or any other charges for selling the books, I opened a pull list, guaranteeing I'll buy certain titles when they ship each month. Least I could do. We also talked about the feasibility of paying for a table at Charlotte's convention next year. I could easily team with some local guys and sell four to five comics and sketches for three days. Yeah, I could do that.

I took some comics and stand to the local store. The owner said something vague about commissions, and I probably should worry about that more than I do. I'm not concerned with a profit at this stage -- or more precisely, at this location -- because it's a local venue for getting my name out there. People can get my current minis dirt cheap, but the next books will have the heft of my then-recognized name and higher standards of storytelling. Those will cost a little more. I started a small pull list with them as well.

I announced the store and online buying options on FB and immediately got an order. I bought some simple mailing supplies and started a spreadsheet for the tax man. I'll mail it out Tuesday afternoon right before I check on another potential store location. My first shipment!

+ + +

Your Sister spend healthy chunks of time preparing an AP curriculum for next semester. She's slowly getting back into the groove of school. She took the boy to church Sunday morning, and I took the opportunity to run the route you and I chugged. It is hot here nowadays. I worked in the garden Monday and was dying from the heat and bugs at 8:30. But the garden is weeded and mulched and freshly composted. The squash finally distinguished itself from the weeds, and I was able to get rid of the unwanteds.

After running and hard gardening, I was actually keen on a bike trip with Your Sister. It was her idea, and I rediscovered my love of biking, thanks to you bringing an extra so we could all three go together. The sidekick seemed to like it too. If I had reason to visit more downtown locales, I'd bike there on a regular basis. Except for one time I rode her bike to the school to remind her to answer her phone, I hadn't been on a bike in 20 years. Wen I went to college, My Dad asked if he could sell the bike instead of letting it rot in the carport. I had a Schwinn with those painful rams-horn handlebars, and I don't miss them the slightest. Yesterday was also my first time in a bike helmet,and I look better in it than I feared. Your Sis clipped bike path locations from magazines, and she's planning late-summer road trips.

First Steps

2011-05-25T10:08:00.000-04:00

Your Nephew is walking. It's not consistent, but it does happen. Your Sister told me about it yesterday and showed me video from earlier in the day. He braces on an object to stand, lets go, and staggers forward. He is delighted with himself. When she stepped out to adjust his car seat, I saw it happen twice. He holds his hands together as he moves. I tried to get him to walk with his arms out, and he tried it for a few steps.

We're relieved for two reasons. First, obviously, we're glad to see him progress. Also, this kind of movement can only wear him out more and maybe let him sleep through the night. He's almost making it, but he wakes at 4:30 regularly.

I bought more stands for the minicomics to display them in area stores. AREA STORES. I'm just ... I need to lie down.

I have no idea what to get Your Sister for her birthday. I am Mister Bad Husband Person.

Picture of the Day
I'm just gonna tune out the world and focus on my Shasta.

Fanaticon 2: The Fanaticonning

2011-05-23T15:06:00.000-04:00

But first this quick note: Some one found my cooking site by Googling "accursed reed richards." Vunderbar.

The convention is now two days behind me, and I'm still smiling. I'm exhausted and sore and reeling, but I'm tickled with the experience. It was much larger than last year, and I think my table location was better. I sold a ton of comics. I made a ton of money. I drew a lot of cards. And I saw lots of costumes. My Flickr set is here.

All the daunting elements were figments. They came and went and left me unscathed. Loading was easy. Setting up was easy. Turns out that I didn't feel the need to pee until hour eight, and I held out until hour nine when the show was over. I was brought food by a volunteer (pizza and Catwoman respectively). I sold a card before the sho started, and I sold another right before it closed.

To my relief and glee, my sales pitch for eMMA proved irresistible: This is our female robot mixed cage fighter who inadvertently gets her fight league shut down, and she has to get the title back from a gold-medal winning Olympic werewolf wrestler. It got laughs, and it made sales.

Some details:

Three stores offered to carry my book in their stores, and that's a stunning option I hadn't fully considered. Of course I'll do it.
One crazy woman asked me if I would help her do New Yorker-style artwork for a project. I call her crazy because she made a beeline for my open portfolio pages and said flatly "I don't care about comics" before explaining her desire to find an artists. I offered my card, but I'll tell you now there's no fucking way I'm gonna jump in that. She had crazy eyes, crazy hair, and I'm gonna guess crazy knees as well.
Two acquaintances from an online forum stopped by.
People complained of the heat, but I was comfortable behind my table.
Your Sister and sidekick visited very shortly as the crowd and heat wore them down.
Two different parties came up with e genius idea: Instead of drawing a character on a sketch card, why not draw them as heroes. I took pics with my camera and put masks on them. It makes for a good idea for next year. For almost all the cards, I explained that I would draw it up as they wandered a bit and returned a few minutes later. They accepted happily, except for the last customer who asked to sit and watch me draw. She did, and we chatted about Plastic Man as I drew him.
One of the volunteers brought me a cupcake as the convention wound down. She mentioned her store could carry my comics as I was walking out the door, boxes in my arms. We said bye, and she absent-mindedly told me her name was Emma. I set down the boxes, said "well, in that case ... ," and gave her a copy of eMMA. She was delighted. How better could my day have ended? What more could I ask? (The deputy slept all Saturday night. Flawless victory.)

I'm glad this was a one-day event. If I tried this at, say, Charlotte's three-day party, I'd be dead and gone. But I might consider sharing a table there next year. I might at that. I'm already writing the sequel comic, combining both hero books. It threatens to be huge.

I attended the museum party the night before and immediately regretted not wearing a proper costume. I had a Fantastic Four shirt, and my hair would suggest Mister Fantastic, but no one seemed to put it together. To costumed attendees the next day said they saw me there and identified my costume. I knew nobody and left a little after nine; I promised Your Sister I'd be home by ten. I don't know how the auction went. I'll call the museum later this week to check on my piece. If it didn't sell, do I get it back?

Pictures of the Day
From the Citizen-Times comes a picture of me selling sketch cards to the sons of a friend. The guy in the white shirt is about to buy the monster comic for his grandson. The crowd was that heavy at my table virtually all day.

You can see the convention layout below. My table pops up at 2:56.

Ready to Rumble

2011-05-20T16:41:00.000-04:00

It's the day before the show, and I'm starting to get jittery. I won't sat anxious or worried. I can't say it's all giggly anticipation either.

I talked to another local creator today at lunch. I met him last year at the convention; his table was next to mine, and we were shunted into the far-off corner of the convention. Half our foot traffic was for the bathrooms around the corner. He hasn't done anything for this year's show, but he'll be there tomorrow. He'll sell the same material he had on hand then. He also makes buttons from old comics, and he says he'll make a new batch between lunch and the show. I can't do that. I can't go into tomorrow's show with something left to finish. That would be like not knowing all my lines for a play, and we both know I am militant and neurotic about lines.

In talking to him though, I realized there is one more thing to do, and it's smallish. I need to make price signs for my items. I plan to sell the comics for $2 each (all three for $5) and the sketches for $1. But in talking to this guy, I wonder if I'm doing myself a disservice. Maybe, I'm thinking, I should sell them for $2 too. Just sell everything for $2. At least, I also think, start at $2 and lower it to $1 if sales are slow. But I don't think they will be. These are nice cards, and $2 is nothing for clean work at that size.

I realized that the convention makes prices tricky. We local guys have gone to the big shows -- Atlanta, Charlotte, Greenville, etc -- and we've seen what the markets bear at those shows. But Fanaticon is new, and it created a new communal marketplace that didn't exist in this area before. Unlike the big shows, we creators are virtually all amateurs. We don't have the clear achievement and seal of quality that a major publisher provides. A guy who worked on Spider-Man can set a decent price for artwork. A guy like me has no understood status to latch a value onto. I have to be flexible.

I also have the notion that these first years of my convention work should be very affordable. My comics are experiments in resource organization and scheduling. I always had the three-year plan: make a comic, make a better comic, make the best comic. Next year's title(s) will be beyond what I'm selling tomorrow, and that should (and will) command a better price. Currently, however, I can't justify it, and the cheaper I make it, the more I sell. Getting my name into the local market is more important to me right now than making the most profit. But profit is a concern in the long term. This is a hobby, yes, but not a charity.

I look forward to the show. Really. But I don't look forward to the loading and unpacking. Or, worse, the potential to not leave my station for eight hours. I'll have to rely on my neighbors for bathroom breaks. I bought snacks and will guzzle water in between sales pitches. I've heard from at least two fellow parents who are bringing their kids to see the costumes and take in the atmosphere. I look forward to seeing them in my capacity as small-businessman comic creator.

Anyway, here we are. I drew a comic, drew an auction piece, and drew sketch cards. The solitary craft work is done. Now is the time to gladhand and sell it. Sunday will be the first day outside the consideration of this show I've had since July. Tonight is the auction dance party. We're invited to wear costumes. I have on a Fantastic Four shirt. With that and my hair color, I'm Mister Fantastic. Done and done.

Freaky Picture of the Day
This is a schedule guide for upcoming movies. What are the odds that these two names would appear side-by-side in this order on a TV schedule this week? I have to take this as an omen, right? Like when I saw the the deputy's names in the comic right before he was born?

Putting Things to Bed

2011-05-19T11:17:00.000-04:00

It was an odd evening for the deputy. He wouldn't eat dinner, but he did chug milk as if he was a few months younger. He even refused bananas. We considered feeding him solids when he woke up right before midnight (as is his routine) but decided that would rouse him up too much. We nursed him as normal and changed him into an overnight diaper and hoped for the best. He woke up three hours later. Your Sister was bolstered to hear that some babies can't sleep through the night until after they reach one year. She seemed to think we were doing something wrong.

+ + +

I packed up my convention stuff this morning. It seems a small stack of boxes compared to the amount of work I put into it all. It might take as many as two trips from the parking deck to my table. I am supposedly on the guest list for the museum's com-eve party, but I haven't received word as to how that works. Am I on a will-call list? I called and await word on how I can take advantage of my supposedly free entry as a reward for donating an auction piece.

Newsflash! The museum called to say I'm on the door list. They're encouraging costumes, and I will pass. I will wear my fantastic Four shirt to subtly play Mister Fantastic. My greatest prop is my gray temples.

Picture of the Day
Sound the convention horn(s)!

And You Can Quote Me

2011-05-18T10:56:00.000-04:00

We knew the local paper ran press releases verbatim. Press releases have that sales-pitch tone often using exclamation points the way some people use mirror balls to fill up garden space. Exclamation points have no place in newspaper writing except for quotes and sarcasm. I admit I planned for their practice when I rewrote the Fanaticon press release and turned it into an article about me; I thought the paper would bite on a local slant for the story. Not only did they run it verbatim, they didn't contact me to verify anything. I could have claimed to create half the Marvel universe. On one hand, I'm delighted to see my entire article run -- complete with, I think, some fantastic quotes that sell my work, Fanaticon, and comics in general -- but I'm disappointed in the standards of the paper. They have to, have to, have to vet submissions before they see print. A bored prankster could run riot with a email addresses and Mad-Libs article generator.

Also, after having said there was nothing else for me to do before convention, I decided to add a shop to my website. Folks can now buy my comics online via PayPal. I'll take Productive Nervous Fidgeting for $200, Alex.

+ + +

The boy did not sleep through the night, but we continue to explore options to affect this. Maybe we can feed him solid food during his usual midnight wake-up session. Maybe we can put on the overnight diaper
then instead of immediately after his bath. Your Sister worries he'll continue to wake up in the dead of night as she teaches, but I think his daycare activities will wear him out. He woke up at 4:15 last night and only once. That's much better than other nights, but we can't figure out why he continues to wake up.

Picture of the Day
"Dear paper, I'm quite awesome. And I assure you I'm not a bored teenager pranking the biweekly rag."

Straight Cash, Homey

2011-05-17T11:16:00.001-04:00

I went to the bank yesterday to get money for this week's convention. I made a change purse last year from one of those ubiquitous blue, zippered pouches, and I cut out cardstock dividers to separate the denominations. I debated about how much to withdraw and waffled between $100 and $200. The latter seemed overly optimistic, and I figured that if I was doing that well in sales, I'd just recirculate the money I was taking in. So $100 it was, broken up into four denominations. As I stood in line, waiting and waiting for the uncertain customers ahead of me to ask the tellers about seemingly everything involving money and banks, I tried to remember what I did with last year's money. I couldn't recall anything about it following the convention, and I reckoned I put it back in the bank. Why wouldn't I?

Apparently, it's because I'm an idiot because I found last year's stash in the change purse when I got home. My change purse is now overflowing. (Note to any would-be robbers: I'm freshly instructed in Body Combat. I will air kick you in the air face.) Sadly, I will not be able to shop at the convention. I won't have a chance to walk around while the vendor tables are open. But I will be attending a convention in Charlotte two weeks later, and that show is bigger with more offerings.

I also cut up four more artboards to make blank sketch cards in the again overly optimistic notion that there will be a run on wallet-size artwork. But, hey, whatever I don't use this year rolls over to next year.

With this, I really am through with convention stuff. I might make another sketch or two, but I consider that warm-up exercise than a lingering chore. The museum show is three days away. I can only wait.

+ + +

The sidekick refuses to sleep through the night, and we are about to strangle him. He awoke at 3 last night and stayed awake despite all Your Sister's ministrations. I got up to take a turn around 4, and he nodded off only to pop awake as soon as he was lain down. I took him to the living room to maybe play himself asleep, but he only sat there. It was eerie. He sat perfectly quiet and clear-eyed for ten minutes. I decided to change his overnight diaper and took him back to the living room to hopefully wind down. I turned off the lights to help him gear down, and that's when I realized we've always put him to bed with the nite-light and heart-sounds bear. Maybe he's over-stimulated.

If he was fully awake in the living room because the light was on, maybe he thinks it's daylight and time to be awake. In the nursery, I turned off the bear and light, and he again nodded off, but this time he stayed out when I put him down. And thus he stayed for another three hours, allowing Your Sister to sleep away the strangling urges. We now have a theory to pursue, reducing our feelings of helplessness in the face of his inability to sleep. If this works, I'm not ashamed to admit I wanna medal for figuring this out. My alarm woke me up this morning, and I let Your Sister sleep while I made coffee and heard the boy sleeping and strutted to the workshop like George Jefferson. Fatherhood: Fuck, yeah.

Almost forgot: He can point to commonly identified objects. You name it, he finds it.

+ + +

We began our new diets yesterday. I learned how to use the Weight Watchers point calculator, and we gobbled popcorn with abandon.

Picture of the Day
McDonald's once had a cast of characters. They seemed to have peaked with the Fry Guys.

Body Combative

2011-05-16T15:49:00.000-04:00

I have friends from high school who are now certified Body Combat instructors. They needed a weight-loss program, found this program at the same time, became addicted, and now have part-time jobs teaching it. They live about as far apart in the contiguous US as people can, and they get together to attend BC events and camps. They post about it on Facebook from time to time. I saw enough to be curious, and I certainly saw the results. Rebecca, for instance, lost 100 at least pounds. Looks great.

I knew the local fitness club sometimes offered the class during open houses, and Your Sister told me about the latest round of such classes this weekend. We arranged our time around the sidekick, and I went Saturday morning. I thought "open-house classes" meant "introductory classes." This is not the case, and now I am wounded.

There were three instructors in the BC regalia: camouflage and hands wrapped like boxers. I had Googled Boy Combat the day before, and I knew to expect bouncing and fight moves. Not Tae Bo. No, this is faster and harder. I expected that. Everything else was a surprise.

Such as:

1. No stretching beforehand. Maybe fitness classes expect you to stretch before you walk in the door. I have not taken any kind of organized exercise class since Brevard College. That's 20 years ago. I didn't know the class time would not include this. And I need to point out that the club folk were very cavalier about a brand-new face walking in. I approached this as a prospective relationship, a first date maybe. I fully intended to sign up for a class if things went well (Spoiler: Things did not go well). But when I walked in, I had to approach people and ask what we newbies should do. The people behind the counter seemed disinterested, and when I saw the sign-up sheet for newbies, I understood why: I was the third name. That means they either had only three new people this fine morn, or people had wandered by without talking to the counter folk. There was a third possibility that occurred to me later: The "open house" was designed for existing customers to branch out to new classes, and the public were a secondary concern. But I'm a prospective customer. I thought I'd be, you know, aggressively welcomed.

2. Hit the ground running. After a few walk-throughs of punch styles, we were off. This was when I realized that we would not be working our way up to the regular class pace. We would start fast and only get faster. It seems like I was the only new guy there, and let's talk about that noun choice.

3. Don't be the only guy in a class of women. I think I threw off the usual class vibe. Not only was I a stranger, I was male. It's possible they thought I was arrogant about taking this class the first time among all the ladies.

4. Don't exercise up front. The back section of the classroom was nabbed quickly, and I was left working the open space facing the elevated stage and the instructors. That prevented me from watching and matching the effort of my classmates and left me to try to mirror the teachers. That is where the pain was born. Even though they would say things like "kick lower, this is Level One," they would soon say things like "Come on! Harder!" So, mixed messages. I was working on a varsity level from the get-go.

I had to stop a few time when my thigh locked up, and I suspect my fighting stance was too wide. I could also feel my ankles, probably from all the bounces (or "pulses"). Today, my arches are sore, and I blame that on my shoes. I think I would have been fine had I done that work barefoot or in other shoes. These are running shoes, not cross trainers.

Eventually, I had to pull over and stretch, and another class member came over to ask if I was light-headed. I explained it was only my legs, and I immediately 'fessed up. "I wasn't prepared." My own expectations did me in, not their program. I went out to get water and was met by someone with a cup of fruit juice. Word had apparently gotten around, and there was concern that my heart was the problem. Nope, I said, lungs and heart were fine. I just burned out my legs. I noticed we were 40 minutes into the class, and I decided to tough it out. I could shove through 20 more minutes, I thought.

But as we did a move mimicking a kneelift to an attacker's head, I came down bad and rolled my ankle. That was enough. I know that when I get so tired that I get sloppy, that's when I'll get hurt. I grabbed my towel and keys and walked out, thanking again the lady who checked on me. The instructors didn't say a word to me. I don't know if they had any reason or obligation to, but I walked out of the fitness club with no one saying anything to me. Again, I feel like they were underselling the experience, and I'm left thinking I needn't go back.

I want to get in decent shape, and that class might be the way to do it. But if I have to get in shape to take the class, by the time I get into shape, I won't need to take the class.

+ + +

I finally have a flyer at Malaprop's. I took the flyer long ago earmarked for that store during a lunch break. I was told it will be posted on their board Thursday. That's not as much exposure as I'd prefer, but they do get much more foot traffic than any other place hosting my flyer. True Blue had taken down my coupon flyer, and I gave them a regular one to put up. Apparently they had forgotten about the similar one I gave them weeks back. Anyway, I was assured they'd put up the one from today, and they seemed happy to post Fanaticon material.

I scouted the museum to check parking and loading access. I wanted to see inside, but they are closed Mondays. I instead went by the bank to get my money to make change at the show.

The only thing I would do between now and the show is cut out more blank sketch cards. I assembled my displays. I customized my portfolio spine, I printed my Monster Comic page for those who buy a minicomic, and I bought the vertical holders for the eMMA comics. That's all there is to do.

+ + +

Your Sis and I are gonna get in shape. We're adjusting out dinner and dessert portions and committing to moving round more. We got rained out of a Saturday walkabout, but she did bike while I was destroying my legs at Body Combat.

+ + +

The boy won't sleep through the night, even as we pack him full of more food and get him moving more. This situation is not making for happy parents.

Picture of the Day
Watch the hands, mister.

A New Tactic

2011-05-13T15:48:00.000-04:00

The doctor said our deputy can sleep through the night easier if we fill him up before bedtime with food. She thinks we're underfeeding him for his size. Agewise, we're providing the right amounts, but he's taller than average and needs more eats. She said he won't be able to finish the food we provide, but he'll learn to take in more. That will either power him through more play and exhaust him or he'll fall into a food coma.

Last night was horrible. Your Sister went to a county budget meeting (and spoke before a crowd of nearly 500) and handed him to me as I returned from work. He had just taken a long nap, scotching our usual sleep routine. I fed him, bathed him, read to him, and gave him milk. He refused to sleep. I removed his sleep sac in case he was too warm. Still wouldn't sleep. Gave him Orajel in case he was teething. Nothing. Gave him a side of sweet potato to fill him up. Nothing. gave him thawed milk to fill him up. NOTHING. This was now 90 minutes beyond his normal bedtime and haggard and screaming. I thought out loud that I wished we could try the whole night over again. And I realized we could. Except for supper, we repeated everything to see if he'd conk out. Before I could dress him after a bath, she came back home and relieved me. I was exhausted. That was three straight hours of intense baby time.

I repeat our parenting mantra: One and fucking done.

+ + +

I sent my last projects to the printer: a portfolio spine and copies of the monster comic last page. I'll pick them up tomorrow and buy stands for the eMMA comic. That will be very close to it for convention preparation.

+ + +

The majority of the sweet potato plants I ordered through the mail (from a very reputable seed company) are dead. I shan't do that again.

Picture of the Day

He'll grow into it.

A Bad Night for Doom

2011-05-12T10:11:00.000-04:00

Yeah, dinner didn't go so well last night. Your Sister liked it. Not I.

She went to yoga, and I put the sidekick down. She returned with a notice of free classes this weekend at the club, including some faux fighting exercise classes I've been curious about. I'm going to at least one of them; two of my high school buddies are certified instructors in a type of Body Combat/Flow/Something Something.

I occasionally try side kicks to see if I've retained anything from my very brief Te Kwon Do and Aikido classes, and I think I can walk into an introductory class and keep up. If nothing else, I'll use this and the recent gardening and lawn mowing to prepare me for running again. I'm keen on the idea of muscle confusion lately; last year's race was a failure because I only ran.

Your Mom dropped off bags of old race souvenir shirts, and I picked out a dozen or so to wear in the yard. She came by the house to watch The Boy while Your Sis talked to the local priest about baptizing him. I've so far heard no details. Maybe we can make him muy macho if we dip him in gasoline.

I printed out my table display signs this morning. We're inching ever closer.

Picture of the Day
There may not be anyone in there.

Pimpin' Ain't Easy

2011-05-11T11:15:00.000-04:00

I discovered Monday that the Asheville Ingles cleaned their bulletin board over the weekend, ripping down all the promo materials including my flyer. I put up that flyer just last week after being told they clean the board at the beginning of the month. This is why I keep a stash in the car, and I put up another one that day. Earlier that day, I put one up at our local Ingles after removing an outdated poster to make space. I felt hinkey about that, but that poster was a) outdated; and b) huge. I have become a ruthless promoter of my material. I also added sample face cards to my website to hype them for the convention.

I finally got a press release from the convention organizers and added quotes and info for my comics. I'll send it to the local paper today. They didn't use the one I sent last year, but my material was used by Asheville papers.

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The sidekick is full-on crawling now, blazing across the floors with surprising speed. He may also be teething again.

Picture of the Day
I'm officially addicted to astronaut artwork.

Seeds Are Planted

2011-05-09T11:28:00.001-04:00

When Your Sister got back from Asheville, she made the following offer: She would do full baby duty for the rest of the day, and I could skedaddle. She specifically mentioned my hope to work on the garden and suggested I tackle it when she got home. I deferred, citing the heat, and said I'd do it after we made our grocery run.

And I did. I went out about five and got back in around 7:30. Between then, I planted the new tomato, squash, and sweet potato seedlings. I can't tell the difference between sprouts from the seeds I planted last month and weeds. Also, I suspect I have wild sprouts from last year's garden, including corn shoots. It doesn't look like the celery came up at all, so I retrenched that row and planted snow pea seeds (which, I think, are dehydrated peas). I added a second row for them between the old celery row and my original tomato seed rows.

I squeezed another row of sweet potatoes between my plantings from last week and the garden fence. Potatoes are supposed to be planted in hills so the tubers will have soft ground to grow in. Instead of doing that for this new batch, I dug deep holes and refilled them with loose soil and planted the new potato sprouts in them.

To avoid the confusion between what I wanted to grow and what grew voluntarily, I snapped off sections of dowels rods (used long ago to stake tomato vines) and stabbed them in the dirt next to what I just planted. I also ran string above the pea trenches to distinguish them from the creeping ground cover. They will need trellises as the vines sprawl, and I may buy cheap garden trim fencing to keep them off the ground. I haven't grown them before. When the squash vines die off in late summer, I'll plant zucchini and pumpkin.

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I got my convention seating chart this morning -- finally -- and I am relieved both to confirm my table space and the location.

This is the first floor of Pack Place. The blue circle is where I was last year. While it's convenient to the courtyard and the bathrooms {the end of the gray hallway), it was separate from the foot traffic. The bathrooms may have been the lone reason why people shuffled toward us. The red circle is where I am this year, smack dab in the middle of what's traditionally called Artists Alley, the coagulation of folks selling sketches or comics. We're separate from the vendors selling back issues or collectibles (they're almost all upstairs), and I'm near another entrance, meaning I'll see a decent amount of peds xing from those not seeking us minicomic folks.That entrance will be handy when I load and unload my car.