Making the Grade

I never mind helping Your Sister grade papers. It's glorified proofreading, but the kid will usually never see what I mark and write. These are the final papers, and they won't get them back. I don't agree with that personally; I would want to see the paper's marks if I was the student. The only way they will see them is if they formally request it the following semester. As I type that, it sounds wrong. Maybe they can see them if they come by during the teacher workdays after exams. Now I'm not sure.

Anyway, Your Sister reminds me of this and says I don't need to make marks after the first page or so. She suggests extrapolating the paper's quality based on the first sheet, but that doesn't sound right to me. I do the whole paper (minus the citations; that's hers). There was one paper last night that started strong and fell apart by the middle of page two. Another paper would have stood tall had there been any citations. That kid failed the paper, and it was the best written paper by a mile.

Parent and student shenanigans are par for the course. Your Sis has one pair arguing that her classroom is in disarray since she left and the sub misplaced the paper turned in by the student. To fix this, the parent called the sub during class so she could hear the student turn in another copy. This was to document that the sub received it. But this seems to me to document instead that the student has officially turned in her paper very late, and that leads to a hefty point deduction. They outwitted themselves.

Parents can challenge their kids' grades and request to see the final paper to ensure the student got they grade he deserved. That's why I mark it completely. The teacher who speaks to the parent may not be the one who failed the student, and I want whoever reads the paper to see all the marks that scuttled the grade. The biggest problem I see this year is sloppiness due to hurry. Sentences contradict themselves. Simple grammatical mistakes riddle the papers. These are works done in a rush, probably at the last nanosecond. I worked the same way back then. I know their pain. I think seeing those mistakes accentuated with marks could cement the need to pace their effort and give themselves a chance.

One consistent mistake I see is a lack of understanding anything about Africa. One paper last night claimed that 80% of adults and children have AIDS. There's at least one paper each year that thinks Africa has one government. They all think Africa is utterly backwoods. I hope they watch the World Cup just to gasp that paved roads exist there.

Fucking Awesome Scene of the Day
Is this a clue to a name we're considering? Mayhap. Is this one of the best moments in a great movie? Definitely.

Name Game

The dizziness continues in step with research papers. I'd recommend she get outside for some vitamin D, but it's rainy. I may have watered the garden three times this year.

We whittled the name list down to two options, and I suggested we use each to replace all references to Roo. A test drive, if you will. One day we use one name and then switch. We briefly considered four names as a compromise until we came to our senses. I confess I have a degree of competitive in this. She picked the middle name, and now I want the first name. Her choice has less allure only because it's her choice. Had I picked the same name, I'd employ the same sneaky methods to secure its victory as I am for the name I picked.

It feels weird to affix a proper name to the offspring, this golden child of evolution, when it's still a barely concealed hidden abstract. Yes, there's something moving around in there, but my associations of "baby" and her pouch passenger haven't reconciled yet. The manuals, decorations, accessories, and appointments aren't quite enough to convince me we'll have a baby living in our house. One that we planned for and instigated.

Roo has officially dropped as we are now in Week 37. We see the doctor today for our first weekly appointment. I don't know what tests to expect. I packed up the CDs we'll play during the labor, but we have yet to pack our clothes. I push for it daily, and it continues to be postponed. She's still lucid, though; the rumored scatterbrained phase of pregnancy hasn't hit her yet.

Moving Picture of the Day
Yes, I'm geeking out.

We're Officially Ready

The office threw us a nice shower Friday, complete with ice cream cake and baby gifts. As a joke, they offered tiny pickles to eat with the cake. I tried it. The salty taste covers the daily entirely. One of my coworkers tried to whisper that I had a big smile on my face, and I immediately swallowed it. I'm a different guy at work, and I blame the atmosphere. It's not the kind of air that I thrive in socially, and I'd rather raise the blast shields and save my winning personality for Your Sister.

On the drive home, the daily 5 p.m rainstorm clobbered us with hail. Big hail. Hail that mushed and piled up like snowbanks. I've never seen that before. We drove out of it after a few minutes. There's a spot between Asheville and Mayberry that is hit the hardest during summer, and the town becomes a block of rain virtually every day at 5 p.m.

All the rain has not helped my garden seeds, and we bought new sprouts Saturday: peppers and tomatoes. I also bought marigolds to scare the bugs away from the tomatoes. Those were planted Sunday morning. Your Sister's dizziness kept her home Saturday night, and she missed a birthday party for a fellow teacher. She did go to work Sunday to grade papers.

A sudden bill in the NC statehouse has raised the possibility of shortening this spring semester. The school rumor is that the semester would end next Friday, not the 15th as currently scheduled. The county board argued over this and eventually decided to keep the current school schedule in another nod to local businesses who hire teens. This time, the summer camps balked at starting the fall semester early to avoid bad weather delays that might shove the following spring semester into late June. There was lots of to-do, and now the statehouse may make it moot. This affects Your Sister by allowing her to cut out material from the final exams. She went into school Monday to huddle with her sub, and I dropped off a carload of cardboard for the science teacher. He wants to use them for garden beds. We had gobs of the stuff from baby gift packaging.

Roo is making her much warmer than normal, and she's now taken to soaking her feet to cool down. My Mom again pressed the issue of a name, and I said we won't divulge the options now lest camps break out over preference. I don't want campaigns for names.

After buying shelf boxes, we decorated the nursery walls with an applique tree and leaves. We are rapidly running out of preparations to make. We'll pack our suitcases tonight, I hope. I also need to choose a stack of CDs for the delivery room.

Using NetFlix, we're watching Colonial House, the PBS reality show of volunteers living in a 1620s English colony in Maine. Unlike in Frontier House, this group have to work toward a common goal: making money for England, and the colony governor -- a Baptist preacher from Texas -- is trying to make it a religious retreat. They haven't tried to trade with the natives after two months of interaction, and they are betting everything on a giant crop of corn. The illusion of Jacobean civilization vanished quickly as the womenfolk refused to live under the throwback social standards. It's calamity.

Word is moving through the neighborhood that the police are looking for a couple of burglars scouting our street for empty houses. I suspect that they would have moved on by now; if the jig is up, they'd have to be desperate to try the same tactics in the same area. I'm hiding my laptop and backup drives before I leave work. Your Sister is at home of course, and I assume sneak-thieves won't try anything with someone in the house.

A podcast of Fanaticon interviews is online here. Skip to the final ten minutes or so to hear me.

Moving Picture of the Day
New Scott Pilgrim trailer. I'm jazzed.

We'll Probably Bite Back

It's been quiet the last few days.

Your Sister's doctor appointment yesterday was slightly different. In addition to checking for premature delivery signals, she was swabbed, and we checked Roo with a scanner. He's in the right position, and the amniotic fluid level looked good. We tried to get final-and-for-real-this-time confirmation that Roo is an outie, but the position was all wrong for that. So a chance lingers that Roo is a Ruth. (Note: We won't use that name if Roo comes out all girly.) They remain baffeld about her dizziness, which she claims is calming down. Her blood sugar and pressure are fine. She's lost three pounds since the last appointment. Next week sees the first of our weekly appointments. She's going to work with me today for an office baby shower. I gave her feeble gifts for her birthday, but they included Nutella, and that was received well.

We had dessert with Kathy and Travis and talked babies. Their youngest is biting, and we discussed parenting tactics. I'm in favor of gradual deprivation. I hold out corporal punishment for capital offenses, and those include repeat offenses. We still like the idea of squirt bottles to shock the child and end the bad behavior until the child can understand verbal commands. As always, keep in mind we don't know know what we're doing. Kand T asked what we're missing for Roo, and we have no idea. In the mail yesterday, we received a baby seat for meals and bedding. I think all we're missing is the baby.

The annual Memorial day street festival offers a child-seat check, and I'll take my set-up there to confirm I did it right.

I'm still playing with a logo for the local roller derby B-team. I'll finish it before the second week of June and send it in so Roo can't distract me from it.

Picture of the Day
That baby is all kinds of squirmy.

You Were a Good Number Two.

Your Sister's maternity leave may have begun. She's still suffering from the dizziness, and she's talked to the benefit manager about her sick days. She has more sick days than there are days left in this semester. She's preparing plans for her long-term substitute, and she thinks she'll stay home to grade the big projects and prepare plans for the semesters she's out with Roo.

The dizziness is no fun for her, and her energy is sapped. I think she has a head flu. Her nose is clogged, and her voice is getting squeaky; this happens when she's got a head cold. I think the doctor's medicines are treating symptoms and not the problem. I'm concerned that she'll be stir crazy within a week, especially when she gets over the bug. I've had lingering headiness, but I fight it with junk food and video games. I have a system. It's homeo-pathetic.

I had to back to the office. More specifically, I had to get back to Asheville, where my bank is. I had to deposit a paycheck.

My broken toe is much more an inconvenience than an injury. I've lost no sensation. It's fat and purple and mobile. I feel a dull ache when I walk, but that's it.

Picture of the Day
Back to work. Got my game face on.

Nothing Is Irreversible

We're at home again today as Your Sister had something of a relapse Sunday. Saturday seemed OK, except I was feeling a whirling of the head too. So it can't be all pregnancy. Your Sister complained of fluid in her ear when we saw the doctor a week back, and he poo-pooed it. My symptoms were a headache, slight dizziness, and a fifth-gear work ethic. I went to town on my to-do list: testing the baby seats for our cars, cleaning out my car, composting and thinning the garden, cleaning my workshop, and assembling the jogging stroller. I stopped only to eat dinner. We went out to eat, showing how much better she was feeling.

But Sunday morning met her with a full case of the woozies. We called the doctor and got a new prescription, a type of Dramamine. I fetched groceries, and she took it easy all day. I also broke my piny toe punting the sidewalk border. It's swollen and bruised, but not painful to the touch. I don't think I can do anything for it except soak it to reduce the swelling. That night, we made Hawaiian pizza for the Lost finale.

This morning she's feeling better, but she's considering calling it a day for the rest of the semester. I think she's jumping the gun, but it's her call. I think she'll change her mind on that before week's end. She'll get cabin fever. I continue to telecommute, but there are some things I have to do at the office.

The Lost Finale
We watched the series review before the finale. Two hours of recap had us primed for the ending, and that 150 minutes was a massive and satisfying undertaking. My thoughts:

1) Thoroughly right in tone and plot. It felt good the whole way through.

2) The last shot refers back to the first shot (Jack opens his eyes in the bamboo field, Jack closes them in the bamboo field), and this tells us the show was Jack's story. He had a purpose in life after all, and he did what he always does: He fixed things. He had a very Christlike ending (pierced side, commissions his believer to carry on his work, is aware he saved his friends, etc.) and that's fine given the religious themes throughout this episode and the series.

3) There are unspun tales between Jack's death and the afterlife -- Hurley and Ben wielding the island as they see fit, the remaining lives of those on the plane -- but I'm not desperate to know what happens.

4) The reunions were what we wanted, and they were done well. However, not everyone is ready to move on. Ben has work to do (and he should stand apart from the Oceanic people), and Daniel and Charlotte didn't have a real moment on the island to refer back to. Eloise alone seems to know what's going on, and she wasn't in the church. But we know she moves through timelines on her own.

5) I want to watch the whole series again. This might happen as we're settling in with Roo.

6) I learned the DVD of the finale season will have an extra 20 minutes tying up smaller threads from the series.

7. Man, people are having babies everywhere. Maybe we should name Roo after Lepidus (who can't be killed) or the Russian agent ("Patchovich").

Picture of the Day
The National Post has a character review image. If you rollover the characters, you get a brief recap.

Dr. Gregory (at) House

Your Sister may have caught a bug. She's experienced dizziness and nausea this morning and stayed home. I'm with her. We called the doctor's office and relayed the symptoms, and we were told it might be a stomach flu going around.

I suspect that's what any OBGYN office would say about a sick mom-to-be. It's smart and designed surely to squash any panic we might have had. It also could be true, I suppose. They prescribed a medication to fight nausea, Ondansetron (side effects may include poppin' and lockin'), and bland food. We're to see how she does for the next 24 hours. Roo is still moving, so they're not worried now.

I'm having some stomach problems too, and the flu theory may have merit. Or we might have eaten something off at the awards banquet last night. For the seventh year in a row, she was named a Memorable Educator by a senior.

When I went to the store for bland food, I asked the Starbucks people if they had any compost grounds behind their stand. They hadn't bagged it yet, and I was offered all they had: 15 gallons of grounds. I snagged it. I'll add it to our bin as soon as this rain lets up. I haven't watered the garden in weeks. Haven't had to.

I got my first emailed monster from a comic sold at convention. It's from an 8-year-old, and I adore it. I'm working up sketches for a logo for the new roller derby team, The French Broads. The contest deadline is June 30.


Moving Picture of the Day
Janelle Monae's Tightrope featuring Big Boi. This is a very '80s video. Also, they overdosed on Ondansetron.

Bed Wares

We got your card. It's on the fridge.

I don't know if you heard the chaos that ensued when My Mom decided to get the baby furniture on our registry. Initially, we balked at the months-old suggestion that we get a bureau. There's no room in the room. That didn't go over so well from either set of parents; they took it as a snub of their generosity. But there's an entire wall of shelves already there. We cemented our assertion over a couple of weeks and again when Mom said recently she was going to get the crib and changing station.

We registered at Babies R Us for both items, but there is no store where Mom lives. She went to Toys R Us to order it with the notion that it could be picked up at the BRU store near us. And a good notion it was. But BRU and TRU is a swamp of conflicting store policies.

I used to work for TRU. n fact, I worked for that very same TRU. It was my seasonal job during ECU semester breaks. As retail work goes, it was fine. I could help the parents and kids looking for specific video games and action figures. I was the shopper's friend. But the management instilled an ever-changing stream of policies that we floor employees wrestled with daily. I suspected Mom's plan would hit obstacles.

Yep. The changing station we registered for months back is no longer in stock, according to BRU, and the store could not say when or if the company would produce more. That created parental dismay, no matter how much we assured them that any stable TV tray would work. Back when TVs weighed more than a car, the TV stands had to hold them up for years at a time. They could manage a baby. Eventually we got the station at KMart. I don't care if it matches nothing in the room. Neither will Roo. It's a poop corral. It's not a treasured item. By the time Roo can identify items, he won't need it.

The crib caused more trouble. The bedrails that allow the crib to fully convert to a toddler bed are sold separately. You'd think that the store would have more of them than cribs; after all, not everyone would buy the rails if they don't want to use the conversion mode. No. The store didn't have rails in stock. Nor did they have the cribs in stock. Mom put in an order, and we were told we would be notified when it arrived.

They said they could deliver, and that would b convenient. Then they realized we only had three items (including the mattress) and then they saw our address. Not to our house, not for so small a package. We were told it wouldn't be worth the gas money to drive an hour to our house. Fine. We have big vehicles now. We can carry our items.

I got the call yesterday to pick them up. To their credit, it was almost two weeks earlier than we expected. I got there and was told neither of our names appeared in their shipment folder. But I was called, I said. I was called by name. Here's your store number on my cell phone, I said. It's from an hour ago. They found our names in another folder. But there was confusion. One item was in my last name (because Mom ordered it), and the other was in Your Sister's name (because she ordered it). I proved to them I could receive both items. Our names are on the registry. Yes, she's my baby mama.

Then I was asked if I wanted to buy protection warranties for the items. I was quoted a price. It seemed reasonable, and I agreed. The card was scanned, and the receipt signed. And would I want similar protection for the other item? The price I paid wasn't for both. It was for the cheaper item. The new cost was double. No no no. I canceled it out. At least, I started the process, because then the stockman arrived with my items. I saw the size of the crib box and said we might have to remove the box to fit the crib in the car. I was told the box was only barely bigger than the crib. But, he said, we deliver. I informed him of we had been told (remembering the conflicting policy decrees I dealt with when I wore his apron). I told him what we were told, and that if the crib didn't fit in my car, I'd come back with a bigger vehicle. He argued the policy, and I could only repeat again what we were told.

To our amazement, the crib box fit perfectly. As I closed the hatchback, the cashier arrived with the refund for the canceled insurance. And off I went. All this difficulty will prepare us for a two-year-old. I'm positive.

I put both items together last night, and it took three hours. The crib was easy. The changing station was murder. Because it involves joining supports and shelves and frames, you are required to have six hands to hold items together before screwing them in place. I was exhausted when I finished, and I chewed dinner only out of instinct. But, no, there is no room for a bureau.

Picture of the Day
Closed captioning is awkward in other languages.

Growth Spurts

Your Sister is very uncomfortable. She can't sit in one position long nor can she easily stand without help. She yogas her back to help the pain, but Roo is now moving when she's trying to stretch, blocking her efforts to keep at any one exercise. Her feet are swelling at the ankles, and we walk or soak them. Her belly is now completely covered by the uterus, and that firm texture is now squishy. She's definitely growing forward now. I need to check our baby-seat boots in the Matrix and assemble the changing station. I might do that tonight.

I added three bags of Starbucks coffee grounds to our compost bin and churned the pile. Nothing has sprouted in the garden yet, but it's been a little over a week.

Tonight's Lost is supposed to be big. Last night's House was the season finale, and interesting doings occurred. They went all out on the direction and editing.

Picture of the Day
Know your geometry.

Fanaticon Weekend

We ran by the store Friday night to get snacks and hand sanitizer (which I forgot to buy after all and borrowed a travel bottle from Your Sister). After receiving new monsters from her students on letter-sized paper, I began to worry that the small size of the comic might prevent people from buying it to draw their design. I quickly printed out 75 letter-size versions of the last page, or tried to until my printer ran out of ink. This done, I packed up all the equipment (trading out a back-up surge protector for the one I use daily) and put everything in the kitchen to load in the car the next morning. I could do no more except wait.

Got out the door Saturday morning at 7:30 and arrived at 8:30. We were advised to park on the roof deck of the museum, but I used the first-floor deck nearest my assigned station. That gave me a ten-second walk to my table from my car instead of schlepping my gear on stairs. My table was exactly where they said it would be, and I plugged in the surge protector to the outlet right next to my table. This was a lottery ticket. I had my table set up by 9 a.m. with each comic displays and stacks at opposite corners and a chair set up with pencils and pens if people wanted to draw their monster on the spot.

The photos are up on FB here.
Here is the Citizen-Times gallery.
Here is the Mountain XPress one.

I chatted with the other guests as they set up their tables. The free downtown wifi was useless in the building, and I packed up the laptop. I started sketching to warm up the muscles, and I had nothing. The drawing engine wouldn't turn over. This rattled me; I had hoped to sell sketches throughout the day, and the first minutes of my convention experience were taking me off the rails. Rumors spread that hundreds of people were waiting outside for the show to open. A Ghostbusters car was outside. Darth Vader was playing bagpipes. I met with my Greenville publisher and his table as they set up, and we traded notes.

At ten, one of the organizers (in his Next Generation Star Trek costume) announced the doors were opening, and he was soon followed by a flood of people. Here's the gist: I don't think the organizers dared to hope for this many people. It was a near constant stream, even for us in the first-floor corner. The majority of artist folks were 30 yards away in a clump. We still got great exposure. My friend Jay and his sons (dressed as Jedi) were among the first to come by, and they ahd top tear through the show quickly before he went to work that day. They came back an hour later to buy comics, and he bought the first copy of my hero comic. The monster comic wasn't grabbing attention, and I quickly made a new sign that read DRAW THE MONSTER $2, and that got people to slow down. That's how I roped them in. This is why I brought a spare display stand.

I had joked a few months back that my hero comic -- the story I've tumbled for a decade now -- would collect dust while my last-second notion would sell out. I didn't (I printed too many copies for one-day show, I realized later), but the monster comic outsold the hero comic 5-to-1. I hadn't practiced my sales pitch, but I had it down within an hour.

"This is our comic about a werewolf and a vampire who find an egg on their doorstep one morning (show them second page of pterodactyl leaving them an egg in a basket). They don't know what's inside, and they prepare for their baby. And on the last page, open to show them, you get to design and draw the monster. There's an email address on the back cover, and if you take a picture or scan your age, we'll add it to our online gallery. This (point to display) has some examples of what we've gotten so far."

They were laughing at the egg page, but when I got to "you can design and draw," jaws were literally dropping open. One little girl was wearing a convention Robin mask, and when I showed her the back page, all the skin around her eyes disappeared, and the eye holes were pure eyeball. These were the magic words. That sold the majority of comics. I said the pitch so much in exactly the same way that I apologized to my neighbor tables. They loved the idea. And it was good, I admit. One kid sat down right there and drew his monster. The monster gallery is here.


Around 11, the organizers asked if they could plug into my surge protector to power the equipment for bands in the courtyard behind me. There were three acts: a medley from the ACT Little Shop of Horrors and two comic bands named How I Became The Bomb and The Falcon Lords. Everyone performed in costume. People stood in front of my table to look out the window behind me, and that helped sales. A few people from Your Sister's school came by, and I signed comics for them. I sketched on a convention-wide jam piece, and that loosened up my drawing muscles. In the rare downtime, I worked on my web comics.

Your Sis herself came by a little after noon with lunch for me, and she manned the table while ran to the bathroom. She heard my sales pitch so often that she delivered it as I spoke to other people, and she sold some issues. A few people from the Brevard paper came by and asked if I would want to do a paper feature. We traded business cards. I gave away more of those than I expected. I'm glad I made up new ones earlier in the week. Around three, a local podcaster interviewed me about my con experience. half an hour later, one of the organizers thanked me for the quotes to the paper and said they were his favorite. I thanked him for putting on such a wingding and told him these comics were made only because they presented this show. An hour later, some online friends came by. It was a party. Your Sis left around 2:30.

I realized I made some mistakes in my con plans. My signs were too small and too low. People bent at the waist to read them. I also charged too much for sketches. The table next to me were raking in money with $1 sketches. The vast majority of attendees were happy and friendly. There were lots of families and curious townsfolk. The occasional stereotypical comic geeks came by, but they were relatively rare. One parent worried the baby monster was created in the comic via explicit monster sex, and I assured her of asexual egg-delivery reproduction. Another woman picked up one of my drawing pens and asked if she could have it. She collects pens, she said. I told her I need it to draw.

I took photos of costumes folks who drifted by, including some semi-professional folks hired by the convention. I didn't use one letter-sized sheet I printed Friday night. I'll give them to Your Sis for students to work on between exams.

While I was aware of the hours, the day flew by. It was 5 p.m. out of nowhere, and the show closed. I packed up my stuff, thanked my neighbors, and walked the show for the first time so see what might be left out to buy. I found nothing that called out to me, and drove home. It couldn't have gone much better, and I'd do it again next weekend if I could. I already have plans for next year's show, Roo willing.

Meanwhile Your Sister was trying to lock down a crib that Mom was buying back home. Babies R Us and Toys R Us ran them in circles all day, and the changing station was not bought. The parents were aggravated. Your Sis was enraged. We bought one the next day at K-Mart after I convinced her that no one would care if it matched the crib and we could buy it immediately and have it done with. Problem solved. The crib should arrive at one of the two R stores next week, and I'll pick it up during lunch. When we both met up Saturday evening, I asked for a wings dinner to celebrate, and I got it. And had two beers. And slept like the fucking dead.

I mowed the lawn Sunday at the hottest part of the day only because it was between rainstorms. She slept a lot, and we walked with umbrellas to alleviate her swelling ankles. Over pub food, we discussed parental theories and a communal philosophy on raising Roo in response to how we were raised. We're at 35 weeks today.

Life is good.

Mind Boggling Moving Picture of the Day
Darth Vader plays the Star Wars theme on bagpipes to open Fanaticon.

Top 50 Hip Hop Samples

This is too awesome to wait for Monday: It's the top 50 hip-hop samples and the source songs. You want a study break? This is it. This is a party link.

Different Types of Offspring

I made the paper:

“For a first-year effort, this is a big show, and that befits Asheville,” said Gregory Dickens, a comic book artist from Brevard who is one of the more than 60 artists and vendors slated to participate. His titles include “Focus,” “We're Having a Monster” and “The Sleep Book.”

“If you're going to do it, it needs to be big. Brash, even. This is an unabashed celebration of pop culture and comics, and the distinction between those is rapidly vanishing.”

They ran the name of my comics. That's free advertising! I'm gonna make it rain in the comic shop! The paper's website ran my photo in the creator section but didn't ID me or run my interview there. Weird.

Your Sister made a drawing of her We're Having A Monster baby with a name we considered for our pagan goth child.


This week's Roo appointment was quick. Your Sister is at 33 inches and 173 pounds. She's put on 20 since we learned we were preggo, and that's right within the range we want to be. We go back in two weeks for fluid tests and to check Roo's position. Mom is going to order the crib equipment, and I'll pick it up next week.

Tonight, I pick up hand sanitizer and snacks and get to bed early.

This is what my con gear looks like as of last night. There's not much. I practiced my Iron Man sketches while getting my car inspected. I learned downtown Buncombe County has free wifi. I wonder if I can stream a webcam link from the convention.


I'm eager. I'm excited. I hope to hobnob with other comic folks at the bar afterward.

Is This Thing On?

The hiatus is work related. I just got major product off my shoulders. Also, we're pretty boring old people except for our (re)production.

We learned yesterday that the state DMV will not renew our vehicle registrations until it has proof the inspections were done. For my car, Brady the Matrix, I discovered the dealership did not inspect my car despite charging me for it. The serviceman found out where the error occurred and promised my car would move to the head of the line when I bring it by, and they'll make me street legal tout de suite. That won't be until next week, I suppose.

For her motorcycle, the inspection will wait until she's back in shape to ride it again. She suggested taking it to the nearby tire place this weekend, and I squashed that immediately. I have no experience riding it, and she's more than eight months preggers. It will wait.

I have packed up all my convention material except my current sketchbook and the laptop. Everything else is bagged or boxed. I can easily park my car and carry everything to my table. The con is offering curbside car-watching while we "guests" unload to our assigned area. I won't need it. I can park on the museum roof deck and walk there and back. I've covered all my bases for equipment, and I have nothing left to fret over. I just have to show up and hawk my paltry wares. I did get a suggestion for hand sanitizer from a con pro I know, and I'll pick some up before Saturday morning. Also, table snacks. I have none. I scouted the museum and my assigned space has an outlet. I'll take my laptop. This paragraph now hold the world record for Most Uses of the I Pronoun.

Roo is constantly moving, and it's substantial. I don't even wait for Your Sister to move my hand to her belly. I rest my palm there and feel him shuffle around.

Windows 7's ad campaign continues to educate me. Apparently it can simulate PowerPoint, a feature I had no idea about. I also discovered I have free chess and Scrabble game. Thank God I learned about this after drawing the comics. My next projects are a tattoo design for one of Your Sister's friends, more semiweekly comics, and making library signs for the high school. Also gardening and running and maybe raising a child. We haven't discussed the names since last week, but my preferences haven't changed.

Just saying: Lost was odd his week Good, but odd. There's another new episode next Tuesday and then the big blow-out series finale airs next Sunday.

Picture of the Day
Fanaticon is the cover story this week. The organizers also spent a half hour talking comics on one of the local radio shows yesterday. It's the event this weekend. I continue to argue with myself about how much I'm charging for the comics. The side that says "cheaper is better" wins out. I don't want to price myself out of sales, and a small b/w comic shouldn't cost as much as a full-size color comic.

I'm planning to wear my Fantastic Four logo shirt under a white-button up. That's my casual costume.

Does Whatever An Iron Can

We both arrived home at the same time -- me from work, her from a meeting at the college -- and piled into her truck of a car and zoomed to the theatre. We caught Iron Man 2, making this film the second we've seen in a theatre this year, and they both star Downey. That's not by design. We discovered that cinemas now offer blue trays to carry all your food items to the seats. It make sense for larger families, but for us it felt like a trough of gorging.

We saw the film, and dissected it as always over hot and fresh Krispy Kreme doughnuts. It's much like the first film intone, and you can tell it's made my virtually the same people. It's a little thicker, but consistent with the first film's attitude and style. If anything handicaps it, it's that the first film had surprise on its side. The cast is strong, and there is a post-credits tidbit to tease the next Marvel film. I properly geeked out.

Your Sis thinks she could catch the Robin Hood movie coming out this week in theatres, but she was not comfortable during the movie last night. She was distracted by Roo and claimed she could feel something triangular moving around. She assumes it was a foot. I don't think I can drive her to the next county, sit her in a theatre chair for two hours, and drive her back home with a clear conscience (What if she drives? Work with me here.). We have plenty of DVDs, a TiFaux, and NetFlix. The last NetFlix film we watched was Wall-E, and we gave up after 45 minutes. We were bored. We have no heart.

She moved all the diapers to the storage room bookshelves. It's now an armory for the butt. An ass-ory? An arse-enal?

Picture of the Day
I was never sure if that was all her hair. I assume not. It has to take years to grow that long.

Packed Weekend

A quick dinner at a bar Friday night turned into a parade of people we hadn't seen in forever. A pregnant stranger walked by and exchanged notes with Your Sister about due dates and movement. Her fetus had clearly dropped, something that hasn't happened yet with Your Sis. We're at 34 weeks today, with only six weeks left until the due date.

She took my monster mini to school to show off and made copies of the last page for her students to draw on. That feature went over like gangbusters, I hear, and two girls handed her their designs. I used them to start my online gallery. I hope every issue I sell at the convention leads to an entry.

As Your Sis and I surveyed the garden space, we realized a nearby peach tree was most sincerely dead, and I was commissioned to make it go away. Chopping down a tree is a satisfying experience. Particularly if it's a smallish tree. That done, I weeded the yard of all the nice yellow flowers she insists are weeds. With hands and arms shot, we went to lunch and to get garden stuff. We returned with five 50-pound bags of cow manure, fertilizer water additive, packets of seeds, and a few tomato plants. I set everything out to work with the next day, and we killed time before heading out for prom.

She wore a maternity shirt from Target and a black skirt, and I wore the suit bought for last year's work convention. I bought her the new Madonna concert CD for Mother's Day, and we cranked it in her new car's stereo. Roo immediately got active. I reached over and felt limbs move around, and he stayed moving until we got to the dinner restaurant. His movements dwindled over the next half hour. In the restaurant, we saw kids in their prom finery and overheard the other sharing their prom memories.

Dinner didn't take as long as we thought, and we killed time in Target before heading toward the prom. I have longed hoped to bedeck her in fashion jewelry from department stores, and I found a gaudy fake emerald ring she considered for about two seconds before putting back on the shelf. But then I thought of my high school ring and realized she could wear that. I should have thought of it for the prom, but she agreed to wear it to school Monday to extend our prom story. And finally after 20 years, a girl I took to prom has agreed to wear my school ring. It's a minor victory for our hero.

Prom was great. The kids looked sharp in a spectrum of dresses I hadn't seen before. I'm accustomed to a short range of colors and styles, but this collection of gals was muy diverso. Fabulousness reigned. We of course hit the free photo booth, and I posted those pics at FaceBook. The party was at the same country club as last year's, and it was again a perfect size for the number of kids. It was, unlike last year, freezing, and that eliminated the likelihood of kids sneaking onto the golf courses. They may have been further encouraged by how lovely Your Sister looked in the full blossom of maternity. A few teachers congratulated me on the monster comic, and I spread the word to the more arty kids. People sound excited for the show. I'm so releived to have the comics in hand that I'm almost nonchalant about the convention.

The tiller I rented was waiting for me Saturday morning, and the garden was officially begun on Sunday morning. I waited until 10 a.m. to be polite to the neighbors. People who crank up small yard engines before then should be pummeled. I chopped up the topsoil a few times. The small size of the tiller made it handy to steer by a pain to shove out of deep soil. My back was killing me. Also my hands were shot from tree-chopping and working the tiller handlebars. I spread almost 300 pounds of manure onto the soil and tilled that together before we headed out for groceries.

I waited until later in the day to plant the seeds and hopped online. I discovered an email questionnaire for the Asheville paper. I sent my answers along with the covers of the minis and a new photo of me freshly taken by Your Sis. I'm very curious to see where and how big it runs. I'm assuming it will be in the weekend tabloid.


Then I planted the garden. We've got lettuce, carrots, cilantro (all first-time tries), tomatoes, squash, and bell peppers. We used maybe half the garden space, and we'll plant more later in the summer.

That night, we wrote thank-you cards for the shower gifts and discussed the finances for the next year. If she takes a year off, we seem able to afford it. We think it's feasible, and I won't have to sacrifice too many Starbucks drinks. Priorities. I didn't sleept well, and I blame the aches of the weekend. I should have Adviled.

Before going to work this morning, I took the printer people two boxes of doughnuts. Tonight, we hope to see Iron Man 2. That's when I'll get my own doughnuts.

Birth Announcement of the Day
Cute.

Big Things Abound

This is a lesson that everyone -- not just pregnant teachers -- can glean precious wisdom from: Don't eat brown celery.

Your Sis became peckish a few hours after devouring the alfredo she breathlessly requested (Was she sopping from the pan? She was sopping from the pan.) and reached for celery. It was old. She observed this. She ignored this. She regretted this.

I came out of the workshop at midnight to find her pale and icky and praying to vomit. She rolled her eyes up and noticed a spider the size of an Ewok on the ceiling. I told her I'd wrangle it while she imagined ostrich feathers. By the time I dropped an elbow on the spider, she had purged. This was after she discovered that she couldn't kneel next to the toilet with that Roo belly. She used the trashcan on the sink counter and felt better immediately. She sipped ginger ale, and we watched Craig Ferguson until she was done.

That will probably be what raising a baby will be like.

Your Sister said she wanted to use her name vote for the middle name and continue the family tradition of Penns. I said I thought that was the plan all along. It appears I get to pick the first name now. The first name to be disqualified is Sean. I can't name a kid Sean Penn.

Hours earlier, we were attacked by a hailstorm. I put video on FB. Again, I'm glad I hadn't started the garden. I rented a tiller for the weekend, and I'll break ground the same day we go to the prom. Also, I shall chop down a dead peach tree.

Even earlier, I prepared a press release about the Asheville convention and my table for the town newspaper. I was pretty happy with it until I opened said paper's latest edition and saw another con press release in the arts section. Gah. And, yes, the paper still runs press releases verbatim. However, that was balanced by an invitation to appear on a local radio show about comics. I might do that the weekend following the convention. I didn't hear anything from an Asheville newspaper reporter regarding an interview about the con.

Also in that paper was an article about Prairie Home Companion broadcasting live from the music center in August. That's about three miles from our house. I bought tickets immediately. My birthday weekend so far includes the release of the Scott Pilgrim movie and PHC the next day.

Picture of the Day
And now I face the morning.

This Year's Second-Most Anticipated Delivery

This is what 300 minicomics look like. My friend at OfficeMax met me at the door and completed the purchase. The price was half -- half!-- of what I expected. I thought the estimate I was given covered only the 20-page mini. I figured that the passage of months since that estimate would mean the actual price for the hero comic would be maybe 20% higher given the ever-rising cost of paper. Then I'd pay something close to double that for both comics. Nope. The final price for both was $30 more than the estimate. That's a steal.

The print quality isn't consistent. There are some jagged edges to at least one page's artwork. When I saw that on the initial proof copy, I was assured that was due to a quick "proof" printing to set the print template. Not so, it seems. I'm not terribly upset; it doesn't distract much from the story, and it's possible the casual reader wouldn't notice. I'm in publication. It leaps to my eye. I don't think a request for a do-over would get my books on time, and I'm lucky to have found a store close to home that would/could handle the job this well. It's not perfect, but it's not as if the art was professional quality to begin with.

Also, 300 comics is a smaller bundle than I feared. I envisioned stacks of copy paper boxes. I thought I'd need a dolly to get them to the convention table. Now I think I can get everything from my car to my assigned spot in one trip.

Here I am with the vast majority of convention preparation done. Feels odd to be set this far in advance. I'm wracked with anxiety that the comics will spontaneously combust. But that's tempered with astonishment that I have made actual comic books.

We tried to hit the local Mexican restaurant for Cinco de Mayo and found half the county there. All items were half-price, even the beer. It was madness. We retreated from the mob and got pizza at the nearby sports bar.

Back home, we swapped name lists. She had more than ten names because she's a rebel. Both of us added names from the other's list. We then agreed to let the lists simmer on a shelf before we start the official whittling. My ideas are proper and inspiring. Her picks do nothing for me. But she admitted she has no affinity for boy names.

I learned the new local roller derby team, the French Broads, is holding a logo contest, and I am absolutely giving that a shot.

Awesome Consumer Demographic Marketing of the Day
The Tom Tom GPS system now offers Star Wars voices. Behold:

We're Now Like A School on Saturday

We missed your call last night because we were scarfing down dinner before the last birthing class. The nurse asked us if we minded finishing early; she's preparing to move this weekend, and she's still packing. The doctor scheduled to talk to us couldn't make it, and this felt very much like the last day of school. Motions were run through, and time was filled in a causal manner. Not that I'm complaining.

We saw slides of new babies and learned about skull molding, jaundice, and other physical distortions we could expect to see. We saw the various stations of the delivery room, including circumcision (no longer covered by insurance, now considered cosmetic surgery). She quizzed us on PURE and COAT and was surprised the calls knew them so well.

Admission: I nailed it. Your Sister, who wrote down the acronyms last week, couldn't recall them and was astonished I could. I told her I came to play. Also, she has pregnant brains and a head cold. She's allowed.

We then toured the birthing center and its four delivery rooms. They're small, which will help us keep the traffic low, and there's a chair for dads to sleep in. I think I'll take the floor. The security measures are comforting: two bracelets and a floor sensor five feet from the birthing-center exit.

We returned to the conference room for a well-intentioned but lengthy presentation from a local dental charity. Most of the lecture concerned children 2 years old and above. We'll be lucky to remember any of this. What pertained to us was the hope we'd clean the baby's gums regularly. We were given a finger sock for this; it looks like a tiny sweatband. We do live in a county with an accelerated tooth decay rate for kids, but we know to avoid the sugary drinks. Then again, the lecturer all but discouraged milk, including breast milk, because of its sugar content. She did, however, recommend fluoride toothpaste for kids, saying the additive's risks were exaggerated. We also saw a five-minute video from the early '90s saying exactly what the lecturer said earlier.
I don't think we're her normal audience. I suspect we're 20 years older than the new parents she usually addresses. While we sat for this 15-minute spiel, we were handed a flyer to teach us infant CPR. This should have been reversed.

We returned home to watch Lost in which shit went down. She has made her name list, but we have yet to compare them.

MUPPET NEWS FLASH: I just got a call from the printer. My comics are ready. I won't be able to get them for another eight hours. Gah.

A Thought Experiment
If you had to condense The White Album into one album, what songs would you keep from a count between 12 and 14?

The original tracks:
1) Back in the USSR (Lennon/McCartney)
2) Dear Prudence (Lennon/McCartney)
3) Glass Onion (Lennon/McCartney)
4) Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da (Lennon/McCartney)
5) Wild Honey Pie (Lennon/McCartney)
6) The Continuing Story of Bungalow Bill (Lennon/McCartney)
7) While My Guitar Gently Weeps (Harrison)
8) Happiness is a Warm Gun (Lennon/McCartney)
9) Martha My Dear (Lennon/McCartney)
10) I'm So Tired (Lennon/McCartney)
11) Blackbird (Lennon/McCartney)
12) Piggies (Harrison)
13) Rocky Raccoon (Lennon/McCartney)
14) Don't Pass Me By (Starkey)
15) Why Don't We Do It In the Road? (Lennon/McCartney)
16) I Will (Lennon/McCartney)
17) Julia (Lennon/McCartney)


1) Birthday (Lennon/McCartney)
2) Yer Blues (Lennon/McCartney)
3) Mother Nature's Son (Lennon/McCartney)
4) Everybody's Got Something to Hide Except Me and My Monkey (Lennon/McCartney)
5) Sexy Sadie (Lennon/McCartney)
6) Helter Skelter (Lennon/McCartney)
7) Long, Long, Long (Harrison)
8) Revolution I (Lennon/McCartney)
9) Honey Pie (Lennon/McCartney)
10) Savoy Truffle (Harrison)
11) Cry Baby Cry (Lennon/McCartney)
12) Revolution 9 (Lennon/McCartney)
13) Good Night (Lennon/McCartney)

I went with these and rearranged the sequence:
1. Revolution I (Lennon/McCartney) (except I'd use the electric guitar version)
2. Everybody's Got Something to Hide Except Me and My Monkey (Lennon/McCartney)
3. Dear Prudence (Lennon/McCartney)
4. Cry Baby Cry (Lennon/McCartney)
5. Blackbird (Lennon/McCartney)
6. Julia (Lennon/McCartney)
7. Back in the USSR (Lennon/McCartney)
8. Birthday (Lennon/McCartney)
9. Helter Skelter (Lennon/McCartney)
10. While My Guitar Gently Weeps (Harrison)
11. Savoy Truffle (Harrison)
12. Martha My Dear (Lennon/McCartney)
13. Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da (Lennon/McCartney)

Very Expensive Picture of the Day
Picasso's Nude, Green Leaves and Bust sold for $106.5 million at auction yesterday, a record price for a work of art. I like the Gaugin fruit in the left corner.

Omissions Everywhere

I forgot to mention this yesterday because I have the dumbs: We spent Saturday night scanning the bookshelves for author and character names. I moved across the book spines, announcing the names, and she scribbled them all down before I realized what she was doing. I intended for her to vote yea or nay before making additions to the list. Now our list looks insane. I suggested we each pick out the ten names that we prefer and then compare the lists later. The communal choices go to a new list, and then we pick from that.

I made my list of ten names last night. It was harder than I thought to stretch it to ten. I could have stopped to five. I have no problem with using Your Father's and Brother's name as a middle name. My preferred names, then, should read well with that one. We ought to have a name in a few weeks, and the media will be alerted.

Your Sister was feeling icky again and stayed home. A doctor's visit told her the baby is fine, but she's worn out. I'm fighting something too and of course blame any contact with children for infecting us.

The medieval comic was released to the world this weekend, and it does not feature Your Sister's name. I understand. It's a huge comic (109 pages!), and it was probably slapped together by a small crew of overworked illustrators. Still, I waited a few days before informing her, and I felt awful about it. It's her first comic, and she worked hard on it. I sent the publisher an email weeks ago specifically asking for her name to run alongside mine. Vengeance must be meted out, and I shall sic the spooky Twilight Zone boy on those responsible.

Picture Fraught With Prepubescent Peril of the Day


There. Now they've got what-for.

Meet and Greet

As I dove home Friday, Your Sister met with a teacher buddy to catch up and swap maternal stories. She told me during dinner later that the friend was complaining about having no time to grade papers. She leaves school, buys groceries, cooks, feeds her kids, plays with them, bathes them, and puts them to bed before she can even think of grading. It was noted that her husband doesn't help out. Your Sister used to as an entree to say she was lucky to have me as a husband compared to some of her friends and their husbands.

I stifled my constant reaction to comments like this: They married badly. Nice people, all, and I have no intention of lecturing folks on their marriages. But this is why you kick the tires a bit before you wed. This doesn't discount the possibility that spouses change behavior later in the marriage. It happens. But a self-respecting husband does his share. Maintain a competitive market value, I say. Wives talk about us, and having the county's best husband can only balance

We drove down to Spartanburg Saturday for the latest shower. This was thrown by cousins of cousins at the church where I grew up. This church was my second house; I was there Sunday mornings and evenings and Wednesday nights. And vacation bible school and revivals. Sometimes we were the first people there. My parents had keys to the doors. I gave Your Sister a tour of the place and related stories, such as the spot where I ran into a door with glass and needed stitches. The shower was great; we got loads of stuff we needed and tasty cake leftovers. One gift was a toy dog a neighbor gave us and signed it with the name of the dog I had as a kid. That got to me. I was surprised by my reaction.

Before the shower, we stopped by my hometown comic store. I visited with the owner and took advantage of the annual Free Comic Book Day. I showed off the pregnant wife a bit. I admit it. But I also ran into one of the comic couple I knew from days gone by. Her husband died the same year as my dad and uncle, and that made for a tough few months. She looked great. I met her new husband, and she seemed hesitant to introduce him, as if I would disapprove. I scuttled that anxiety immediately. I'm glad to see her happy and with a husband who encourages/shares her interests. They're still technically newlyweds and appeared goofy in love.

We drove home just in time to see the Kentucky Derby at the local pub. I think we're missed seeing it together in person once since we started dating, but we did watch it together over the phone. I was in Orlando for work in 2006.

She felt ill all day Sunday and slept while I worked on convention stuff. Later in the afternoon, I cracked open the videogame I bought in early April as a reward for finishing the comic. I'm slacking on tying up the loose ends. I'm forcing myself through this last 10% of the con preparation.

Picture of the Day
Einstein's desk from the day he died.

Slouching Toward Bethlehem

I stopped by the print store to see a proof copy of the comics. I didn't get it. Apparently the store was swamped with impractical orders. The day before, I saw a man commandeering the constant efforts of the print-desk associate; I learned later that he had been there virtually all day (8 to 8) working on a brochure and bookmarks. That's madness.

I appreciate that I have software at home and years of experience with it to cobble together what I need before handing it to the print people. I appreciate that other people don't have this. And I thoroughly understand that many people who want a print project really have no idea what they want. Instead they know what ads they like and hope to recreate as closely as possible. Hence the gabillion "got milk" ripoffs. Also the peeing/praying Calvins.

When I arrived, I waited about half an hour before they opened up my PDFs for the first time. I watched the associate (not the poor bedraggled creature from the day before) as he imported my PDFs page by page into another document to print them. That cocked my head. My PDFs were the right size and adorned with crop marks. They were ready to print. I made an effort to reduce their efforts. That's not altruism; the less they have to do, the more it resembled what I had in mind. I learned their software requires importation and printing. No matter how I gave them my files, this step would be necessary. Seems redundant.

I was told last week that I would save money and save them time if I made the files 4.25 inches wide. I had made them 4.125 inches wide. Since then I had bumped them up to the requested size. But the associate this day said the pages were too big to easily print with my attached page numbers. After a few tries at sizing the pages correctly, I held prints in my hand of the pages and the covers. They were not attached to each other or trimmed. Still, they had the pieces and the method to start the process. The cover looked great, by the way. I did not see a proof of my monster comic, but they have a template of sorts to follow. The paper and card stocks are nice. They have two weeks from today to get it done. It's out of my hands until I get my hands on it again.

I picked up Your Sister for the latest doctor visit. Her blood pressure is good. She was worried she hadn't put on enough weight since the previous visit, but the nurse said that gain would come soon enough. Roo's heartbeat is around 130. Your Sister has trouble lying down for the heartscan, but she toughs it out. We talked to the doctor about names and the childbirth classes, and we emphasized our trust in them when gametime arrives. We go back in two weeks. They did not crank up the bellyvision. On the way home, sparked by a Facebook comment, we agreed to circumcise Roo. The science argues that it helps prevent disease, including HPV.

That reminds me that Your Sister has already ceded the birds/bees talk to me when the time comes. My notion is to tell Roo to cautiously indulge himself. It's my hope that I don't become a parent who rails against the very bachelor activities he enjoyed. I've seen one of my exes make such comments online, and it's such a drastic reversal that I wonder if she posted them after losing a bet.

After an outdoor dinner, I mowed the yard and finally hacked at the backyard bush damaged by the snows. I was pooped. She was pooped. We plopped on the couch and turned on the TV. And this greeted us:

Of course, we watched the whole thing before she adjourned to the bed and me to the workshop. I'm enjoying this languorous pace for preparing my convention materials.

Tomorrow is mom's baby shower.

Out of My Hands

One more tidbit from the delivery class: both moms-to-be asked about episiotomies, and the nurse said the on-call doctors do not favor them. There was much relief. But, she said, the back-up team is a bit ... happy with them. But mothers can request a procedure not be done unless absolutely necessary. I admit I didn't know what the procedure was at first. I started to clue into it and commenced squirming in my chair.

I took the comics to the print service at OfficeMax after work. I met my roller-derby buddy there, and he escorted me to the print desk and got my order started. They said they could get me proof copies by Thursday afternoon. I waffled on how many copies I wanted and decided to order too many. I can always sell later what doesn't sell at the convention. I handed over my jumpdrive, and they downloaded my PDFs. I was shaking with anxiety. I was stuttering.

Tangent: I had a horrible stutter as a child and required years of speech therapy. Turned out my mouth was moving too slow for my brain, and words came out as a mush. It still happens to me, and it manifests most obviously onstage. I talk too fast, regardless of how much caffeine is in my system. It also comes out when I'm wracked with nerves. Like when I hand over the project I've tackled for four months. Just like that, the convention is two weeks away. But I did this on schedule, and that's a comfort.

Speaking of the convention, one of the organizers contacted me and asked if he could give my info to a newspaper writer covering the convention. I might make the papers. That could sell more copies. I also started looking at options to sell the minis through my website. I tweaked the front page of the site to tease the medieval comic coming out Saturday and the convention two weeks later.

Your Sister had some discomfort last night and couldn't get comfy on the couch. She eventually sat on the arm of the couch before stretching on the floor with the yoga book. The yoga helped. Within an hour, she was comfortable again.

Your Father delivered another bag of baby stuff earlier in the day.

Picture of the Day
An unofficial illustration of what Lost would look like animated. Ben is an alien.

Almost Done and Almost Done

The second delivery class was packed with information.

We learned of the types of delivery assistance: augmentation and induction. Induction includes the use of a uterus balloon to open the cervix and let the baby slip down, a hormone pill that relaxes the cervix, and epidurals. Most labor medicine won't affect the baby. Morphine will, however. This week's round of videos included a C-section, epidurals, and the use of duellas. We also saw the forceps and vacuum suction tool. There were two acronyms we learned too: PURE and COAT.

PURE is for the support crew (the husbands):
Position is for moving and adjusting the mom in delivery,
U is the frequency of urination,
R is the relaxation we're to encourage, and
E is the environment, including playing bouncer to family members. The nurse teacher made it clear that they can keep the family at bay if so instructed by the mothers-to-be.

COAT is for the water breakage:
C is the color. If the water isn't clear, the baby may be exposed to excess fecal matter in the uterus.
O is odor. If the water has an odor, it may be mom's urine and thus not the onset of labor.
A is for amount. Water breakage will be significant and possibly in stages.
T is for time. The dad is to mark when the breakage occurs, telling everyone how long they have before the heavy labor kicks in.

There are also the Five Ps (a quick Google shows the amount changes and what the Ps stand for.
Position, passenger, pelvis, psyche, and power relate to the elements of labor and seem to be the nurse's mnemonic for attending to the moms.

The videos drove home the reality of the labor experience and the gravity of having a baby. It focused me to a degree I hadn't had before. It was anti-panic. Maybe it's a paternal instinct, a resolve to get Your Sister and Roo through this. She's concerned about the average 14 hours for labor. Specifically, she wants to know how we'll handle the parents. I told her, with no uncertainty, that I will send everyone home unless they behave. I'll be in the delivery room with her the whole time. Outside that door, I don't care what they do. Inside, we will not tolerate their insolence. We will go Dr. Doom.

One of the videos showed a German couple giving birth. The father hovered over the mom and gave constant assurance and congratulations. Again, Your Sister threatened the pimp hand if I did that I suggested instead that I would bark commands. In German.

We were told all insurance provides coverage for a 48-hour stay beginning when the baby is outside the mom. That extends another day if there's a C-section. The nurse gave us sample box of Enfamil formula.

+ + +

I finished the comics. The covers, lettering, page layouts, tweaks, and PDFs are all made and fretted over. I hope to drop them off at OfficeMax today. I gave the store a shout-out in the inside cover of the monster comic for being open on weekends. There are at least two local stores that lost out on a nice chunk of change because of this. I don't conside this project finished until I have the issues in hand and the table materials prepared. And of course I have to work a convention table for seven hours.


The last page of the monster comic will let people draw the monster in the open shell. I added a samples page on the inside cover.


And the very last thing I did was change the hero cover logo from red to white.

Eight Months

As we officially mark eight months of pregnancy, Your Sister is getting uncomfortable. The school chairs are not her friend. Roo's kicks are getting stronger. She soldiers on, and I try to keep her still and bring her things. Your Mom continues to pillage the local bargain bins for anything baby related despite Your Sister's instructions to give it a rest. Your Dad dropped off three bags of stuff yesterday, including Your Brother's baby blanket. I spent a good five minutes rubbing the blanket in my hands and sparking deep-seeded memories of my childhood. It feels just like the one I had.

I am thisclose to finishing the comics. In the two weeks before the convention, I'll make table displays. I bought a bundle of art supplies during my lunch break and am saving my receipts for tax purposes.

Moving Picture of the Day
A longish package for the Blue Ridge Rollergirls season opener.

Things Get Did

After Your Sister bought the new Rogue, she picked me up for lunch and to show off the car. It's not a wagon like the Matrix. It's an SUV. Any vehicle with an emergency brake pedal is a truck, as far as I'm concerned. It's a foot longer than the Matrix and few inches higher. She likes it, and it's much easier for her to get in and out. It's still not as big as the SUV Saturn tried to sell us in 2008. My memory of that is a cave on wheels.

After work, we attended a teacher birthday party, and I chased a toddler for a half hour.

We tried out a new restaurant in town, a sandwich nook on main street. It's called Mayberry's, and it's right across from O.P. Taylor's. Yeah. But it's a good shop with nice decor. Our waitress said she recognized me from running in the evenings which reminded me that I need to run in the evenings as soon as the comic stuff is done.

I went by the printer Friday afternoon to drop off my hero comic and was told that if I gave them both comics at the same time, I'd get a reduced paper rate. I was also informed that I'd save the cost of trimming pages if I added another .125 inches to the width. That's feasible. I was eager to hand them the book and get it out of my hands and off my back and from over my head. I left the store frustrated but convinced the deal was too good to pass up. I inked the monster comic Sunday and dashed off a quick cover drawing Monday morning. Both comics will be done and handed to the printer before this weekend. This, I swear.

I attended roller derby Saturday night and watched the debut of the new Asheville JV team, the French Broads. When the majority of our party went home, my buddy and I moved to the "suicide seating," the floor space at the rink's edge. If there's a spill, the competitors will fall into your lap. That didn't happen (dammit), but one of the Blue Ridge Roller girls, Chief Goober, did suffer a separated shoulder during a trip. We see similar injuries every bout. I might attend the next home bout in early June depending on how Your Sister is doing with Roo. She's sure she can see the baby's growth each day, and he should be averaging a half-pound increase about each week for the next month.

As I took out the compost bucket to the backyard bin, I noticed a piece of roofing flapping in the wind. I had heard the noise all day in the workshop but had no idea what caused it. The roof's ridge has a metal capper on it hammered in place. There is a string of them along the roof's length, and the one nearest the driveway was almost off. I hopped up and screwed and hammered it back down in a burst of giddy competence. And down I shimmied to add cheese to the baking pasta dish.

Picture of the Day
Seen around town during the president's vacation. I had no traffic problems, and I've heard from at least one person who saw the plane land at the airport. The local radio preacher felt his oats and informed the president -- who was no doubt listening -- that he was splitting the nation and could take the Shirley McClaine and Rosie O'Donnell. I almost crashed laughing at references to people who lost prominence five years ago.

Done Deal

She's buying the Rogue today. After seeing the near-identical trade-in offers three dealerships , she's getting a used Nissan over a new Toyota. The Nissan has a better warranty, and that sealed the deal. I'm sure she'll miss the sports car, but she still has the motorcycle. The warmer weather has lured the local bikers all around the mountains, and she's got the itch. She might be back out there as early as August. July, if Roo if colicky.

I sat down last night and drew three pages of the second comic. I did another one before work today. That's half the comic penciled. I might be finished by Wednesday, safely within my May 1 deadline. The secret here is larger images in a simpler style; I can crank them out quickly. It's exhilarating in the face of the near tedium of the hero comic effort. I am through working on the first one; I would never stop fidgeting with it unless I keep my hands off it.

The ant traps seemed to have worked. The area in front of my workshop's outside door looks like a scene from Ken Burns's Civil War documentary. My temp -- the hungry spider -- appears to have packed up his briefcase, donned his hat, and left for a fresher buffet. When the comic work is done, I'm a'cleaning the workshop from top to bottom. Then I need to go outside and jumpstart the garden.

Soul Destroyer of the Day

Going Rogue

Your Sister is shopping around the sports car over her spring break. She met with two Nissan dealerships yesterday to hear their trade-in offers and scan their wares. She saw some decent offers and models, and she may close the deal before the weekend. She's leaning toward a used model, as there doesn't seem to be much difference in warranties for new or used. She has another appointment today.

I have very little to do with this. My name doesn't appear anywhere on the car, and she went through this when we bought the Matrix. We almost bought a used one back then, but the price difference was minimal, and the warranty was affected. Buying a car is like buying any other complex contraption: You do some homework, examine your finances, and shop around. I encouraged her to keep one hand on the ripcord if the salesmen were too pushy. Also, I suggested asking for the CarFax report for the used cars. Otherwise, she's flying solo by design, and she'll be fine.

She's looking at the Nissan Rogue, a parallel version of the Matrix, and that's if she doesn't simply get another Matrix. They've worked great for us. She took along the boot of the baby carseat to see how well it fits.

Your Mom is officially baby crazy. She's buying various baby implements when she finds a bargain. Yesterday she bought sheets, nail clippers, and diapers of various sizes. This was after she promised she would only buy items from the registry, and these things aren't there. She rationalized the purchases, and I can't fault her generosity, but I'd rather channel that initiative toward what we know we need. Also, storage room is a growing concern.

We are under another ant assault at home. Each spring, her bathroom and my workshop become ant clubhouses, and we set down traps on top of traps. Ants literally tumble onto me from a workshop lighting fixture. I put traps in the attic twice this month. Also we cultivate spiders, allowing them to have a corner and dine on whatever they can catch. I currently have a longlegged monster called Presley next to my serial-killer corkboard collage. Stay thirsty, my friend.

I have all but finished the hero comic. I'm tweaking design elements like sound-effect fonts and the cover frame. I may take it to the printer this weekend, one week earlier than I planned. I have just over one week to do the eight-pager, and that should be feasible.

Picture of the Day
This is a robot cutting a ribbon in Japan.