Plans Are Suggested

Your Sister is averse to belly pictures, and we've only taken a handful since her bulge emerged. Now, I'm not going picture crazy, documenting everything we do and supplanting an experience with the depiction of the experience. I do want to make a record of the most incredible nine months of applied biology we'll encounter. But she has days where she feels huge and unattractive and old, and I scold the camera and send it to its room without camera dinner. Some quick photos were taken and posted on FB where Your Mom practically called her gigantic.

My Mom is feeling better with a new prescription called Pristiq. She's making plans to accompany us to the next appointment in late March, and she again is asking about names. We're no closer to a name and probably won't lock in a top-five list until Your Sister is convinced it's not a girl. Is it possible the doctor was confused by the machine imagery? Yes. It is probable? No.

I started inking our medieval comic. I realized after one panel that using fat-nib pens to delineate art based on slim-lead pencils kills my art. I moved to the thinnest pen I have -- 0.2 mm. -- and I like what I see. The stiff plasticity is diminished, and a more organic contour emerges. This might be my ink style from now on. I'll put up scans as it nears completion.

We bought cooling stands for our laptops, and I drew my journal comic on my new machine as I watched Olympic hokey from the couch. That's so scifi. I'm gobsmacked. If I didn't have a pregnant wife and various comic projects, I'd liveblog TV shows. Your Sister, however, did talk to one of my fellow roller derby fans and demanded he take me to some of the Asheville games this summer.

I picked up my drama award Saturday over a dinner out with theatre buddies. It's nice. It'll look good on the wall. Your Sis reminded me she wants me to do theatre when a show strikes my fancy, even if it's in Asheville. I dunno. I wouldn't get home from rehearsal until after 11 each night, and that might stretch for three months. That knocks me out of watching Roo. I don't see me doing theatre again for years. And that's fine. I have comics and games and a baby to mold into a genius.

Picture of the Day
Marvel Comics is publishing Girl Comics, a new anthology created entirely by women. Nice idea. Horrible name. Here's a page from the first issue. These are all current Marvel superheroines.

The one on the bottom right was played by Halle Berry in the X-Men movies. The upside down hero is Spider-Woman, who had her own ABC Saturday cartoon years and years ago.

Here's her cartoon opening sequence.



Yes, her "spider-like powers" include flying and hand lasers. I don't know.

Sugar Rush

We had the glucose test this morning. We arrived at 8:30, and she was given a cup of clear, cold liquid. She could pick her choice of flavor, and she chose "flat Sprite." She was concerned about the taste so I had some first. It wasn't bad. The cold overwhelmed the flavor at first, and it quickly took on a lollipop-syrup flavor. I only drank a fourth of what she would have to chug, though. After that, we sat in the waiting room to kill an hour. I had my laptop and worked on my journal comics. This was my first time using the giant laptop outside the house.

They drew her blood, and she weakened. She said giving blood has only been a problem in the last year or so, but there's no suggestion of anemia. After a few minutes, we visited with the doctor. He checked Roo's heartbeat (136) and asked for updates. We didn't have many notes. We made an appointment for March 24, and the doc will do an ultrasound just for My Mom. I took her to Starbucks after, because, really, why shouldn't you follow a packed sugar drink with another? We'll find out Monday if her blood-sugar is OK.

Picture of the Day
The Canadian hockey team took some shit for celebrated by drinking immediately after their gold-medal win. But how happy does these winners look? Gold on home ice? The IOC is lucky they kept their clothes on.

Cooking With Villainy: Cucumber Raita

Doom's kingdom of Latveria has failed to dominate the Winter Olympics in the soon-to-be-annexed nation of Ca-na-da. Despite the construction of skatebots, skibots, and bilathalonibots, Doom has yet to feel the treasured gold medal in Doom's iron fist. Doom's designs are, of course, impeccable and perfect. Therefore, Doom must conclude a conspiracy is afoot to deprive Latveria of its rightful recognition. As always, the blame lies at the feet of That Accursed Richards.

RICHARDS! DOOM CALLS SHENANIGANS!

To salve this shame, Doom repairs to the kitchen, and there shall Doom concoct another success, another testament to Doom's unerring glory. Doom shares this new recipe with you, the unworthy denizens of the planet over which Doom shall soon extend his benevolent reign.

Doom bequeaths to you the Cucumber Raita!

For this exquisite delight, gather you these elements:

• 1/4 tablespoon sugar
• 8 ounces plain, low-fat or fat free yogurt
• 1/2 tablespoon fresh crushed mint
• 1/4 cup coarsely shredded unpeeled cucumber
• 1/2 tablespoon minced sweet onion
• salt and pepper to taste
  

Doom commands you to combine ingredients and apply to side dishes or preferred protein vehicle. Doom at times entertains the notion of drizzling the raita upon his sirloin and jasmati rice. It soothes the rage inferno ever stoked by the continued existence of That Accursed Richards. Doom indulges upon and is momentarily distracted from his plans of vengeance, but never in his designs of grandeur.

Doom has nothing more to say to the likes of you. Begone!

Holding On To Old Stuff

Friday was the lone regular day of school Your Sister had last week, and all is chaos. Meetings with parents, mandatory department sessions, and items to grade and test are piling up. Her week is a junkyard of deadlines. Instead of breezing into the theatre award banquet that night, I took her out to dinner. The banquet was just across the intersection from us, but I had turned down an invite for Valentine's Day (horrible timing) and didn't change the RSVP when the banquet was moved to later in the week. She wanted pizza, she got pizza. She let me have wings, and they were devoured. I joked that my absence would guarantee I would win an award. Ha ha, that's a good one, pass the napkins.

I won an award. I got a call about 9:30 that night from my director liaison who's no longer the liaison, and he informed me I won best supporting actor for the Scrooge play. I credit my translator actor for making the ghost scene work despite the lack of other actors' familiarity with their lines. The sideburns also proved my commitment to the play, and it's possible they threw me a bone to keep me around. The director and I agreed we'll all have dinner together next weekend.

On Saturday, Your Sister taught for five hours while I tried to find a case for a hard drive. I removed my PC's drive (very, very easy) and needed a shell to plug it into and connect to my laptop. Radio Shack, our town's only electronic franchise, closes on weekends. Because no one tinkers on electronics on weekends. That directed me to the shop where I bought this PC four years ago, and he had exactly what I needed. Now I have a 180G back-up drive AND all my files from the PC. I still have my 2000 PC, and I yanked out that drive and drilled through it before throwing it away. It was 3 gigs; I have jump drives bigger than that. I have boxes of needless computer equipment, and I'm offering some of it to the school's newspaper staff. I also was able to finally get my hair cut.

After all that, we drove to the ag center for the annual maternity consignment show. Instead of individual booths and vendors, items were categorized and labeled with prices and scan codes. We bought two Fisher-Price toys we remembered from childhood, although I argued the old phone toy wouldn't work for today's kids as it no longer resembles modern phones. We got a baby sling and a frontways papoose and a sun shade for an outdoor pen. Not much, really. We didn't plan to grab a lot. We just wanted to see what's out there for kids and moms (Dads can go eat bugs.). Maybe in a few years, we'll swoop in and get much more stuff. Oh, the very first item we laid eyes on was a Roo book. We didn't get it; it was a good omen but a weak story.

We attended a teacher party that night, and I indulged in peach moonshine. I woke up Sunday starving and wobbly.

I ran on Sunday, and I am weak. I have to build myself back up. We watched Olympics between bouts of grading or drawing. I might get our medieval comic penciled by the weekend. I am powered by movie DVDs as I toil in the workshop.

Picture of the Day
This is the new bay window on the space station. I don't have to tell you what this resembles.

Computer Operation

If the PC died because the motherboard had a meltdown, that suggests the hard drive is still OK. I hadn't tried to remove one before, but I like the idea of a 100+ gig backup drive. A friend suggested I try this, and, except for an hour and ten bucks, it costs me very little. If I can extract the drive, I'll buy a cheap drive shell to house it and keep it in my workshop. I want to remove it anyway; I won't recycle a PC with an intact hard drive. If my experiment doesn't work, I already have the back-up drive I bought within the past two months. As I'm rearranging computer space in my workshop and connecting my peripherals to the laptop, this is one small activity.

The laptop, by the way, works like a Mac. I don't know if this by the design of HP or the new Windows, but all my peripherals were plug-and-play. I didn't need one of the installation CDs I excavated. I hooked them up to my USB hub, and I can connect them to the laptop through one plug.

A indefensible canceled snow day allowed Your Sister to visit Asheville. She and Your Mother met up at Babies R Us and set up a simple registry. The store gave us a freebie Huggies box, mostly coupons. But there is a sample organic diaper. That's our first diaper. We don't have much on the registry, but we hope to shop at the annual maternity swap meet this weekend. I think Our Moms are gonna scrap over who buys the largest items.

Roo's movements are stronger. They no longer can be mistaken for indigestion or muscle twitches. They are jabs. Mayhap we'll name him after a World Cup player. That starts two weeks before he's due.

Your Sister doesn't want belly photos taken, but I can tell you her swelling is above and between the hips, and it's a solid lump. She doesn't show much anywhere else. Yet.

Picture of the Day
Run, Woody! RUN!

Say Hello to My Gigantic Friend

Why wait, I ask. Why drag myself through a week of online price comparison and consumer reviews when I find the tool I want, nail down a decent price, and can drive to the store to get it? Why indeed? Especially when you learn during the drive that Your Sister prefers the revived death-metal stylings of Metallica and will gently bang her head while wearing a knit cap and braids like an Olympics snowboarder and look cute as hell doing it.

Now I have a laptop. An HP Pavilion Something Something with a 17-inch screen. It has a full keyboard including number pad. It's vast. The iPad is 9.5 x 7.5. My new monster is 17 x 15. Massive. Also? It's fucking speedy. All the claims about Windows Home have proven right. It loads quick, it provides Mac-like taskbar screen previews, and the security controls are manageable. Your Sister's laptop is smaller but it has the touch monitor that may be detachable. I'm not sure. After some online consultation, I learned my PC's motherboard may be hosed, and the hard drive might be OK. I'm thinking of wiping it and using it as an external home drive for the laptop.

I configured my laptop (which needs a name) while watching the Olympics. I also played with Skype for some online chatting. That's a handy program. Your Sis even said hi to some of my geek buddies. Then she saw my newest cartoon about potential birth defects, and we talked a little about potentially raising a handicapped child.

Picture of the Day
Steve Nash at the Opening Ceremonies from Big Picture. This guy had a big weekend. He flew up from Phoenix to Vancouver on Friday, helped light the torch, flew down to Dallas for the All-Star Weekend on Saturday, won the skills challenge that night, and played in the All-Star Game Sunday.

I've enjoyed the games so far despite a snakebit host country. The luge death and torch snafu Friday, no snow for the ski events causing training runs and games to be postponed or lost, a new problem with the speed skating center, and the usual squirrely judging in the figure skating events. I hope it doesn't get worse.

RIP My PC

And my computer has died. There seems to be a major hardware problem that not only causes my computer to never turn off, but Windows won't boot up. I cracked open the case and removed the memory chip I installed recently. Nada. I tried to recover using the Windows XP disc. My computer couldn't recognize it. I'm taking the machine out back and shooting it. I'm already pricing HP laptops (similar to Your Sister's), and I hope to have a machine by this weekend.

The computer is almost exactly 4 years old. While it toiled mightily, it did so vocally. It was always something. This could be repaired if I take it back to the small shop that made it. But that guy disappointed me right off, and I won't give him more money. I'll go to Best Buy. Thank Vader I backed up my files about a month ago.

We're snowed in at home again, watching the Olympics and working on the medieval comic. She wants to calligraphify the text. That's doable.

News Action Alert Weather Central Update Bulletin

The snow forecast came in relatively late. I sent an email to Your Sister Friday morning and told her to send me a grocery list, and she acknowledged it. I warned the boss. We're supposed to be out Monday for President's Day, and we're already behind on the magazine. She's a bit anxious about getting it out now. Of course, our printer is in Northern Virginia, and they're closed due to snow anyway.

When the snow began to fall at the office around 2, I emailed and called Your Sister. I needed confirmation that it was snowing at home before I could leave. The boss was nervous about losing more time to bad weather. She was unwilling to concede another shutdown snowfall.

About 4 pm, Your Sis called to say the roads were getting bad, and out the door I went. Things were fine for the first 15 minutes, then the roads and sky merged into gray. The roads became slick, and dumb people were driving. Some were too slow; some, driving white cars, didn't use headlights. I noticed a disturbing trend in 4x4 drivers to drive as if the trucks were fragile. They were slow, forcing all us behind them to lose traction as we slowed. Before I made it into town, Your Sis called to say she was going to the grocery store. I had told her earlier that I would go as I came into town, and this displeased me greatly. We now had two vehicles in the winter junk an hour after she told me to come home. When I made our city limits, I called her to confirm she was heading home. She was. I expected to meet her at the house within five minutes.

The slippery roads were populated by more stupid truck drivers through the hamlet. I went the back way to the house, leaving the highway for what I hoped was a clearer road than the usual way. I knew she was going this route too, and I wondered if I was driving in her tire tracks. I slid a few times before turning onto our neighborhood road, the one with the big hill. We had taken this way to avoid that hill, but we still had the beginning of our street to worry about.

As I approached that road, I again saw the small sedan parked at the intersection of those roads. It had been there since the second snowstorm last weekend. To avoid sliding into it, I veered left. It would give me a straighter route up our road's hill. Unfortunately, veering left took me very left, and I had no control. I slid past the road and down the big hill. I knew I couldn't turn around in the road without risking blocking both lanes. I aimed for the first driveway, and that was when the tires lost traction completely. I crunched into the old ice bank formed from the first snowstorm, and I couldn't move the car. My front end was off the ground. If not for that bank, I would have taken out a telephone pole and hedges. I called Your Sister and got no answer. Not surprising. Her phone is horrible. I called the home line and got nothing. I know she often goes to the bathroom when she arrives home. So I left messages. Angry messages.

As luck would have it, the very first person to come by my stuck car was the state trooper who is also our next-door neighbor. He was able to go back to his house and get shovels. While waiting for him, I went to the house whose driveway I was now blocking and asked for the snow shovel. I got it and started hacking at the ice bank. I again called Your Sis and got nothing. When the trooper returned, he was in his truck, armed with shovels. His wife was riding shotgun. She called her kids at home to peek at our driveway and confirmed Your Sister's car was there. So she wasn't stuck, I thought, she just won't answer the phone.

We dug the car out, and I drove down the hill, turning around to go back up with a running start and hopefully back home. That was easier than driving up our road's hill, and I again slid all over the place before pulling into my roadside parking space in front of our house. I turned off the car, filled with nerves and anger, and called Your Sister again. She answered, and I told her I was home and to check her messages. She said she had called back repeatedly and left messages. I got into the house, and that's when she told me she had gotten stuck (on Holly Road, oddly). She used a bag of cat litter to give her car traction and managed to force her car back onto the road despite no help from those living inside the closest house which just happened to be our other next-door neighbors. She had beaten me home by a few minutes, but her car slid down the driveway before she could reign it in. It's now blocked by bricks.

Today we shoveled and swept. Another neighbor was stuck on a similar ice bank, and neither of us could free it. It stuck atop a bank with each of the right wheels completely off the ground. We left it for the day. When we saw the trooper neighbor come home, Your Sis and I carried leftover cocoa to him in gratitude.

Later in the afternoon, we formally sat down to start the medieval comic. She gave me her page ideas, and I helped shape them into a linear story, and we hashed out a comic. I'll thumbnail the book over this three-day weekend. It might become four day if the forecast snowstorm hits Sunday night. She spent most of the evening working on the comic script, despite my suggestions that she wait until further in the process to nail that down. But I won't push her on this; I know she over-prepares.

Into the Fire

So it's the last home game for the basketball teams. It's senior night, and the teams are playing their archrivals. The students held a spirit week with daily dress themes. There were fresh rumors of a weekend snowstorm. There was a buzz before the games began.

All was well until the boys game. This school has a ribald student section. They have dances and coordinated cheers and a costume style (ties and headbands, for whatever reason). They jeer opposing players and cheerleaders. They have fun. They are loud. They can be obnoxious. Last night, they got really obnoxious.

Using logic I can't begin to fathom, one of our students had a photo an archrival player. It's was clipped from a newspaper, and it was of the kid during a game. I wasn't embarrassing. It was just a game photo. But this was brandished throughout the game, and it was meant to rile up the other team's fans. It did.

What was a boisterous game became dangerous quickly. Near halftime, one of their students crossed the aisle to yell at our student section. He was kept at bay by a cop, but our principal, standing not three feet from this, did nothing but watch. Later, the kid with the photo stupidly -- and The Rock means "stupidly" -- walked over to the guest student section and stood in their faces with the picture held aloft. It was yanked away by a guest student. He got mad and grabbed a hat off the head of a student fan. The two-man game of keep-away flowed onto the court during the game. Cops eventually noticed what was going on and tossed the students. Except the kid wearing the hat didn't leave. He hid behind standing students. Some of our kids on the balcony above him saw this and started yelling. The cops didn't notice, and the yelling got the attention of some parents sitting in the guest section. Those two groups began jawing.

Your Sister and I were sitting on the opposite side of the court, between the benches, and watching all this. She called the principal, still standing with the cops between the student sections, to warn him the upstairs section was getting ugly. He couldn't hear her on his cell phone amid the din of the game and the fans. I could tell she was about to bolt, and I tried to block that verbally. Stay here, I said. Let it go, I said. They can handle it. The unstated trump card was "and you're not taking our baby into a fistfight." But she was off, and I told her I was going with her.

At this point, the already tense game was threatening to become a cage match. The teams were five points apart with less than a minute to play, and the guest team was exploiting the lack of a shot clock to hold the ball. This angered the home fans, parents and kids alike. Our team had to play tight defense to get the ball in play, and tempers flared on the court. Fouls were called seemingly every two seconds. That stoked the fans. It was bedlam.

We hopped to the floor by going behind the guest bench (really a line of bleachers), and we jogged to the opposite side, right in front of our student section. She informed a cop what was going on. Seeing this, the parents in the guest section thought she was ratting them out and began yelling at the cop (and probably us). The students upstairs saw this and started getting in their last verbal shots on the adult fans. They responded, and the cop wisely darted up there to shut it down.

Our downstairs student section realized something was up and wanted to see. The first two rows bled out onto the court to catch a look. Your Sis and I were the only adults there to back them up (the principal was probably off still trying to hear her on his cell; she hung up minutes ago), and we kept them off the court. However, our kids higher up on the bleachers were closer to the argument upstairs, and now they wanted to help their buddies. Your Sister was debating what to do. I put my hand on her back and steered her to the other side of the court. Whatever might happen could do so without us involved. We ran back to our seats and again snuck past the guest bleachers. Those kids not playing watched us the whole time and thought we were ratting out their parents and friends. They gave us the stink-eye. I was watching them to make sure they minded their manners, but we were walking between them and other guest fans.

We made it to our seats and watched the game finally end. we lost. I don't care. The situation needed to be tamped down, and I blame the principal for not huddling with the coaches to admonish the fans. The crowed dispersed a little too slowly for my liking, and I got Your Sister out to her car quickly. I watched her leave the parking lot to ensure she didn't try to break up any fights that might happen. I didn't see any, and I drove home myself a few minutes later.

I hope there's some sort of announcement about student behavior only because it would acknowledge something needed to be done. Your Sister shouldn't have been the one to save the day. She later assured me she wouldn't get into harm's way, but I'm not convinced. I'm positive she would restrain herself somewhat to protect Roo, but there we were between two loud, angry, fired-up students sections. That was too close for me comfort. But she did feed me game food of pizza and Snickers, and I'm too appreciative to be stern.

She graded papers when we got home, and I thumbnailed my latest script and discovered I had a comic. I've got 20 pages and a real ending and some wiggle room for panel adjustment. I'm ready to draw out the panels.

Picture of the Day
It's too winter to do anything outside.

Plans

Your Sister and I decided to make an official date to brainstorm our medieval comic. If we leave it to whim, it'll never get done. We must rendezvous. I finally have an ending to my hero comic and now must thumbnail it out again and see what kind of page count I'm looking at. It can't be more than 20 pages without becoming prohibitively expensive. But what I'll be cutting is mostly conversation. That should be painless.

We have also decided to stay in Friday night and catch the Olympics opening. We saw the previous Olympics in the summer of 2008 right before your white-jacket ceremony and en route to the Outer Banks. I barely remember the previous Winter Games. They included the Russian skating judge who sabotaged the Canadian pair. They were given a special gold medal for their trouble. Those games seem more than four years ago. Wait, they were! That was 2002 in Salt Lake City. I completely forgot the 2006 Turin Games in Italy. Hokey smoke. I have no memory of those Olympics. I am a horrible American.

I tested GoToMyPC last night, and I can now use my work computer from my home workshop. It's wonderful. I can now telecommute when we have bad weather or a baby.

Please be sure to check your mailbox.

Picture of the Day
I protest. Kermit is his own man frog.

Dark Clouds

Mom had another sibling health scare. Her brother, Don, had aneurysm surgery last night in Columbia, and she's rattled. Don is the remaining brother. For close family, it's him and her, and me. There are dozens of cousins and great uncles and such, but they're scattered across the state. She still hasn't escaped the routine of work and house, and I encourage her to go see a movie or something to break the routine. This winter has not been kind to her, and she hopes spring will ease her spirits. I wonder. I'd prefer it if she attacked the malaise now. In related news, we're supposed to get more snow tonight.

+ + +

She and Your Sister continue to wield hope against Roo's gender. They want girls. Mom even envisions a certain type of hair. Your Sister latches on to her favorite girl name. It's gonna be me and the likely boy against them. I can't let him fall to the dark side.

I was strangely inclined toward a girl initially, but I feared it was becoming preference, and I squelched it. It's not proper. I had these notions of unleashing a smart tomboy on the world, and I realized it's just as much of an accomplishment to raise a boy who will appreciate that kind of gal. It does seem like all the best names that spring to mind are for girls. The boy list seems suddenly paltry.

+ + +

I'm going to post my journal comics on my website within the week and will update them regularly.

EDIT: Scratch that. The comics are already online. I'll link to them from my website. You, Constant Reader, can find them here.

Picture of the Day
Dr. Chang puppet out of nowhere!

Getting Better

Your Sister shook off the head cold over the weekend. I knew I needed to get her out of the house to build up her strength before going back to school. She also needed larger clothes. Two of the town's three department stores have no maternity departments, and we again had to drive out of town to buy something. We had some luck in a local consignment shop, but we indeed crossed the county line to the nearest shopping center. She how has maternity jeans with a stretchy front panel. We measured her belly, and she's at 17 cm from bone to navel, not yet halfway to the final 40-cm plateau.

To fend off a bacterial invasion, she's making yogurt at home. The ER antibiotics alarmed her, and we bought jelly jars to hold our strawberry and raspberry yogurt. I had a taste. It's good stuff.

She is feeling much better, and she's back to work today. We had a low-key Super Bowl with take-out pizza, and she was able to stay up for the whole game. She's no longer sleeping upright like the Elephant Man, and she's almost back to normal. We should be able to huddle up over our minicomic soon. I started thumbnailing the panels for my hero mini based on a script draft. I discovered I currently needed only 14 of my 20 planned pages, and that lets me spread out the panels and make them bigger. That's great news. Still need a good ending though.

The theatre scheduled its annual awards banquet for next Sunday, Valentine's Day. I question the wisdom. I told them I would not be going as I'm going to cuddle up with my missus for our last pre-baby Valentine's Day.

Picture of the Day
The passion of the graphic designer.

Morning Sickness

Your Sister woke me up this morning saying her throat was swelling shut again. This happened last year, and she was given two steroids shots. That's not so simple an option now. The baby doctor's office wasn't open yet, and he told her to go to the ER. It didn't take long to get into a bay there, but we had to wait 20 minutes after; Your Sister was drinking ice water, and it skewed the thermometer. Throat cultures were taken, and that sparked a gag reflex. Combined with her empty stomach, this wasn't fun. Next, the nurse couldn't find Roo's heartbeat for a good two minutes, and this rattled Your Sis. I tried to calm her down and explain we weren't seeing our regular nurse, a woman who can find Roo in seconds. That didn't help the stress of the day.

She was told she doesn't have strep, and they suspected an ear infection. Your Sister wouldn't fill the prescription initially but consented when I reminded her it would be trickier to get it later if we get the big snows. I had to drag her out of the school and stop her sub plans. She's at home now, hopefully sipping mint tea.

Picture Link of the Day
My journal comic and others can be found here. My name should jump out at you. There will be a complete story up each week.

Picture of the Day
A new view of the WKRP DJ booth. No Herb? No Les? Bailey, Jennifer?

Collaboration

We got antsy, and Your Sister can no longer be asked to walk four miles for half a pizza. The warmer weather allowed me to chisel out the car and drive her downtown for lunch and groceries. The shoveling took about a half hour. We returned home to more warm temperatures, and Your Sister was determined that the driveway be made passable for her car should she need to use it. Out we went to shovel and chop. We were at it for about 90 minutes, and she was careful, but busy. There are now tire ruts for her car, and half the driveway is now clear. Of course, more air junk is forecast to plummet this weekend. At least the shoveling gives me a fantastic workout. I am sore and tender today, and I didn't sleep well. But I look fabulous.

I mentioned yesterday that I signed up to create four pages for a medieval anthology. One of my shoveling brainstorms told me to consult Your Sister. You know, the one who studied medieval literature for four years. Then I wondered why we couldn't just write it together (defined this time by her doing the writing, and me acting as her art robot). It struck her as a pleasant notion at first. Then it became a definite idea: adapting a certain 9th century poem. I woke up this morning to find two pages of notes and a rough script.

She's started her first fiction story. It's an adaptation, yes, but it's a good start. She admitted the story is tumbling out of her, distracting her from sleep and school work. She's got the bug. I'll tread carefully in the process from scattered ideas to drawn panels, but we have two months, and she's already got her story skeleton. I also honed the bones for my superhero mini yesterday.

Lost comes back tonight, and I am wired for it. Mad, crazed, and enthused.

Picture of the Day
I discovered the paintings of Alyssa Monks. I now never want to paint again.

Snowed In

Your Sister called me Friday afternoon to say it was snowing at home, and it was piling up. I left work immediately. As soon as I reached my car in the parking lot, the snow shower fell. It got bad quickly, and the drive was slow. Our back road was covered when I arrived, and I had a tough time getting up the hill. Had I been a half-hour later, the car wouldn't have made it.

We sat out the storm. We got about eight inches of snow before the sleet came down. Today, the road is a sheet of ice. Your Sis was itchy to move, and she swept a trail to the mailbox Saturday. Sunday, we scraped and shoveled the area around the car (alongside the road, just like before).We lost the satellite Saturday under the pile of white, and it came back Sunday morning after an early melt. I thought I'd have to go on the roof.

We caught up on our recorded shows -- Fringe, This Old House, Jeopardy -- and some work. She plotted out her semester, which now includes a Saturday school day. I am plotting one of my mincomics for the convention, and I just signed up for another anthology due in May. I'm doing four pages on the medieval-fantasy genre, and I have no idea what I'll do yet. But I can do that and my two convention minicomics. I know I can. I also posted my first journal comic today. The host site requires registration, so I'll post each week's comics here at one time.

Your Sister holds out hope for a daughter, and she has in hand the name she wants. She may try to change Roo's gender through mind power. I fear she can do it and then move on to my feeble brains. My Mom strangely requested we not name Roo with initials (DJ, AC, etc.). We hadn't considered it.

Picture of the Day
I'll build her an Iron Man armor to help her make it through the work days. Also I'll have serious hair.

It's A Sidekick

Before getting home yesterday, I zoomed into the grocery store to stock up on Your Sister's mom snacks. The death snow looms. I chugged a caramel frappuccino for lunch and pulled into my carport right as Your Parents arrived. We had about half an hour to kill before we picked up Your Sister. I cut up her celery snacks and tucked away groceries while Your Mom vibrated in the house. She seems to be more wired in the last year. The anxiety of seeing a grandchild on ultrasound, and kibitzing over possible ailments, did nothing to settle her.

We scooped up my baby mama and began the check-up relatively quickly. Your Sister has put on two pounds in two weeks. Her blood pressure is fine (124/68). We were directed straight to the scanning room, and she was radar'ed within 15 minutes.

The baby is fine and appears to be a week ahead in physical development. The head, neck, belly, and femur measurements are good. We saw the heart chambers. We saw feet and fingers. And then we saw what the doctor defined as boy parts. He's confident we're brewing a lad. Your Sister wants to keep some girl names in reserve just in case, and I offer a "probably" disclaimer to be nice. But it's a boy. We're having a padawan. (Yes, there were female jedi, but we saw, what, two in six films?).

Your Mom voiced concerns about a number of wives' tales, and they were each shot down. The baby, for instance, is breech right now. The doctor assured her it has plenty of time to turn. It's the natural fit, after all. But what about the baby being born with the umbilical cord wrapped around its neck? Happens daily, he said. Does the speed of the heartbeat confirm it's a boy? Nope. Sometimes I can't tell if she's genuinely nervous about something or buzzing with energy. Either way, all signs point so far to a healthy pregnancy. We go back in a month for the blood-sugar test.

Your Parents didn't want to loiter in Yokelsburg after the appointment, and Your Sis and I had a celebratory dinner at the pub. We spied a child's birthday party, and Your Sister grew ravenous for cake. We slipped into the now-emptied grocery store and bought a one-layer red velvet cake. We discussed parenting matters along the lines of when do we have The Talk? How do we handle curfews? You know, things we have a decade to gear up for.

I called My Mom and told her the news, and we called a few other people before I shouted it on the Book of Face.

He looks healthy. That's all that matters. I think Your Sister wanted a son. I hope she's as happy as I am. It looks like we'll be snowed in for a few days. I don't mind. A small period of stillness will let us contemplate further this project, and we can huddle together in our home.

Picture of the Day
The menstrual cycle in cute cartoon form. We won't be seeing this until summer.

Place Your Bets

As we might find out today what we're carrying, let's breakdown the predictions:

Your Aunt: Boy (an angel told her)

Our Sister-in-Law/My Coworkers/Some of Your Sister's Coworkers/Many People Online: Girl

Our Oldest Niece: Both (She thinks Your Sister is carrying a boy, but her cousin will be a girl.)

Me/Your Sister: No comment. We have preferences. We'll never admit them, although I think I did here a few months back. If I did, ignore it. I was raised being told what my girl name would be and what I would have done at various ages. I got the hint that Mom didn't get what she ordered.

Your Mom has accepted the invitation to join us for the appointment. I don't know if Your Dad is coming too. I invited them both. My Mom was flattered by the initial suggestion and plans to join us for the next doctor visit. We're facing another snowpocalypse. I bought a real snow shovel and will hit the grocery store before the appointment today.

I got home last night to find both Amazon shipments had arrived. The new big scanner is a beauteous thing of beauty. Choirs sing when you look at it. My comic art boards fit entirely in the scan bed. Simple hook-up, simple interface. I like it muchly. The first of the journal comics are scheduled to go online Monday, and I'll link to them when they're up.

Picture of the Day
Learn it, live it, love it.

Power Outage

The canceled schoolday allowed Your Sister to stock up on forms and gear up for the next semester. She secured a desk and bulletin board for her student teacher. He gets to host a vocabulary test today, and she thinks he's lulled himself into overconfidence about it.

Mom all but confirmed she will not be coming to the appointment tomorrow. The weather forecast is too dire. She's clearly upset by it and assumes there's some divine reason for the obstacle. We'll extend the invite to Your Parents, but Your Sis thinks the weather will keep them home too. Or the dog will. Your Mom doesn't like leaving the dog alone at the house. When they visited Saturday, the dog came along. I'm not bothered by it. He's a great dog -- well behaved and sweet. But the commute is practically longer than the visit.

I discovered an failed outlet in my workshop this morning. That made my computer set-up inoperable. I checked the circuit board and fiddled with the other outlets. Repairing it is just on the other side of my comfort with household maintenance, and I found a local electrician to come by. He fixed it in no time, and luckily it was a bad outlet and not bad wiring. That was my fear. That and an ensuing house fire. The bill was steeper than I expected, but I'm glad to pay it.

I checked estimates for printing my comics through OfficeMax and got numbers I expected. I have to decide how many copies to print. Do I do a big batch? If I don't sell out at the show, I can sell the others later, but it will cost more now. If I buy a bit less and sell-out, I might miss out on the maximum profit for the show. Also a friend who works there offered me a good deal on a b/w printer, and that would allow me to print the comic at home and take it to OfficeMax for the assembly. I'd probably still print the color covers there. I checked the price of paper cutters too.

It will definitely be a better use of money to buy equipment and do it at home, but that labor will require me to finish the artwork earlier. Also, I'm going to only do two comics, not three. A lot of time remains between now and the show, but I must get cracking on the pages. I've had good sketch luck recently, and I think I can produce a good story.

Picture of the Day
If our galaxy was a subway.

Then Again, Maybe Not

I forgot to mention yesterday: When Your Parents came over Saturday, they brought a pile of stuffed animals from Your Sister's childhood. Pooh, Eeyore, Tigger, Peter Cottontail, and a Roo. I had no idea she owned a Roo back then. They were musty with basement air, and it took two thorough washing-machine cycles to clean them up. They're now brighter and awaiting their guest of honor, and all this anticipation terrifies me that something will go wrong. It's been too easy so far (Yes, too easy for me, the one not getting bigger each day, the one who can easily stand up from the couch and bed, the one who gets to sit all day at work).

The Pooh Bear wore a German bib with "Mitt Woch" on it. I was also reminded in a conversation last night that Your Sister didn't grow up in America. We were talking about football teams of our youth, and she pointed out she had fewer because she didn't know about football until the early '80s.

A small snowburst canceled school today. This was to be the first day of the new semester. The roads are clear, and I drove in to work. Another snowfall is predicted for Thursday night and Friday, and this might cancel Mom's visit. I can't go get her this time, and I doubt she wants to risk staying with us until Sunday. I talked to Your Dad and offered (or he might have asked) for them to come with us Thursday if Mom cancels. If nothing else, they can all be there at the same time, but we'd rather parcel out the parent escorts to the doctor. We want to outnumber the parents if possible. I'll call Mom tonight to warn her about the weather. That won't go over well. But I'll advise her that we're not guaranteed to learn what we're packing on Thursday. Hopefully that will help.

Did we ever tell you that Your Sister invited both sets of parents to our jailhouse wedding ceremony at the last minute? We agreed to tell none of them until after; I knew My Parents wouldn't be able to leave work on one day's notice. She couldn't contain herself however, and I had to explain to Mom that if they couldn't attend, Your Parents agreed not to either. It was an excited notion Your Sister had, and I had to squelch a potential forest fire. It made a hectic weekend a little more frantic. I want to keep things fair between the parents.

An email I sent to Your Sister resulted in a possible new mother nickname for her: Queen Mum.

Picture of the Day
Quick, to the VW Ball!

Beetle Bouncing

I was informed Friday that Your parents would take Your Sister's car to dealerships near them to learn its trade-in value. They might even do basic haggling for a new car then let us bat clean-up. We had talked of replacing her car for a while, and that noise grew louder after we became pregnant. As it's her car, I'm out of the loop on the conversation they had. I'll do what I'm asked.

Your Parents came by Saturday to get that car and leave us their VW to drive in the meantime. Your Father called me that night to say he talked to Your Brother, who had suggestions for selling it privately. I called him, got the info (briefly: check online car sites, find the average asking price, and sell it online), and called Your Dad back to verify. With that information in hand, it was decided that we should take the car back.

I drove the VW to work today and will swap it with Your Sister's car sometime before I return home. It's a jarring change from driving our Matrix, and I'm pretty sure it's never before bounded down the road to the thumps of Missy Elliot and Jay-Z. I'm surprised the flowers stayed in the dashboard vase. Also, European gear boxes are the devil.

Your Sister watched over Saturday exams for students getting a second chance to pass them. At the same time, I performed surgery on a dying scanner before calling time of death around 10:30. I immediately ordered a larger one off Amazon, and it's the scanner I've wanted for ten years: one that can scan 11x17 art boards. No more reconstructing comic pages digitally, thank Odin.

I began scripting one of my minicomics and hoped to have a local printer handle the reproduction and binding. The first shop I went to was run by a woman who shook her head as soon as I showed her the minis I wanted to emulate; the town's allegedly preeminent print store is actually a Xerox and mailing store. She did suggest the other two stores in town, and neither is open on weekends. I'd have to drive to Hendersonville or Asheville if I wanted this work done in my free time. Instead, I'll give some Asheville shops a chance to print my convention comics, and I'll offer them advertising if they give me a discount. The inability to use nearby shops pisses me off. Virtually every business open on weekends are restaurants and tourist shops, and only half of those are of interest to locals. This will probably be a $500+ job to make three comics for me; I'm sure some business wants that money.

Your Sister worked at school Sunday during a biblical rainstorm. We lost our TV signal a few times during the very good football games. Neither Super Bowl team -- Indianapolis and New Orleans -- are ones we picked in the preseason, but we're happy with them. I'm sure she'll root for whoever I don't.

The night before, I felt Roo move. It felt like stomach rumbling. We held our hands there for so long that we lost Roo's movement among our own pulses. We were eventually sure it was over and fell into sleep. Mom's still planning to come up Thursday for the scan.

Picture of the Day
I need to run again now that the cold has passed.