My Hand is a Lobster

While making alfredo, I lost my brains, stuck my hand in the pasta pot, and steamed it red. Bright red. The worst part was the pain grew in intensity with each pulse. It didn't blister, so it wasn't so bad. I smeared it with moisturizer (after mentally rejecting butter and water and ice). When the moisturizer worse off, my hands were kissably smooth but tender. The air tickled. I smeared on aloe vera and let the hand air dry for about 90 minutes.

This morning, oddly, my steamed hand is lighter than the other; I expected it to be darker and redder. The pain is gone, but it's still surprisingly sensitive. I could put it in and out of my jeans pocket, and that's the roughest treatment it should get all day. I think I'm OK.

After dating and eventually suckering a teacher into marrying me, I'm more attuned to the homeschool arguments. While reading my hometown newspaper site, I noticed this week's homeschooling activities at the county libraries:

Wednesday
11 a.m. Boiling Springs Library, home-schoolers program. For home-schoolers in first through sixth grades. Call 864-578-3665.

1 p.m. Inman Library, Home-school Teens: Computer Autopsy and Diskette Notebook program. We'll make notebooks from old diskettes. Refreshments provided. Registration required. For ages 12-18 (grades seven-12) only. Call 864-472-8363.

THURSDAY
4 p.m. Westside Library. Meet Ingrid Norris and her canine friend from the Spartanburg Humane Society. Call 574-6815.

5 p.m. Woodruff Library. Join us for the movie screening of "Twilight," rated PG-13. Those younger than 18 should pick up permission slips before the show. Signed letters of permission from parents are also acceptable. Call 864-476-8770.

Crafts, a shelter dog, and Twilight. That's homeschooling. Throw your mind back to 10th grade. If you were assigned to make a notebook out of old disks, it would be considered busywork. That's scrapbooking. No wonder the local home students have to go to Bible colleges. They can't get in anywhere else.

Picture of the Day
A handy dandy guide to the plot of every House episode. Clicky-clicky to embiggen. It's over 1 MB, but it's worth the download.

Sign Me Up

Read the script at lunch yesterday. It's a sitcom episode, a mix of Mama's Family with Golden Girls. I'm sure that's not intentional, but that's what we have. The majority of the piece takes place with all four characters sitting around a table. There are perhaps seven entrances and exits. As long as I can approach it as a sitcom -- a good one, with tight delivery -- then it's going to be as good as something this slim can be.

A 60-year-old is visited by her two daughters for her birthday. One's a floozy, the other's a square. The square brings her boyfriend. Jokes and plans are made. Everyone leaves the house. That's it. Anyone could direct this. Brooke could direct this. How can I turn it down?

Kathy and I jogged and walked at the college. There's a growing trend in run training that stresses a timed mix of effort. Walk for 90 seconds, jog for 60 seconds, all for 20 minutes. It's to build up the cardio. I worked out a bit at home beforehand. Because Your Sis had afterschool labs, and this rendezvous was so late, we were eating supper around 9. We caught maybe five minutes of the presidential conference.

Picture of the Day
The drawing is done, and I'm emailing it to her today. Fixing the hair made a big difference.

Almost Beginnings.

I picked up the script after work, but I won't read it until today at lunch. It is thin. The script is written in a different format than almost every script I've seen. I suspect the writer used film script software to make it. I haven't agreed to do this yet, but I catch myself planning floor diagrams and establishing directorial philosophy. Two things will keep me from directing this: a horrible script and a lack of actors. No, I don't see myself doing this as a one-man show. The writer will allegedly be there to see the show's one performance, and I wonder if we'll have to make any changes to her script to perform it in a church.

I'm supposed to walk with Kathy tonight as she begins her couch-to-race regimen. She wants to run the annual spring 5k. I ran yesterday, and the mixture of a faster pace and warmer air left me weak and breathless after the three miles. I hope the pain and sweat means I'm whittling the pudge away. I've cut back on the frapps and midday snackage. I did have a chesseburger Happy Meal yesterday, but I think its small size says I'm prudent. I just might start turning the garden soil this weekend, depending on how much it rains. That, if nothing else, will slice away the fat.

I indeed worked on the drawing of Your Sister and showed her what I had done by last night. She seemed happy with it, but I'll put money she's unhappy to see what she thinks are her defects. I know she's insecure, and the presence of hundreds of teenagers could wither anyone's defenses. But I see the drawing, and it's unmistakably my hot wife, and so I'm content with it.

Picture of the Day
The poster for the upcoming Maurice Sendak adaptation. This movie's been on the shelf for over a year now.

An Offer

I got a call Friday afternoon from my murder-play director. He was also the head of the script committee. He offered me the chance to direct a one-act play for one performance in late May. "Offered" may be too strong a word. "Asked with hesitance and a touch of desperation" may be better. It's apparently a tradition for the theatre's new play program. They mount a full production of a three-act play for two weekends, and they offer a reader's theatre production of a new one-act at a member's luncheon.

I told him I was curious and that I'd like to read the script before I agree, and he said that was fair. I'll pick up the script Monday night. It's supposedly less than 40 pages. Given that and the one performance and the reading format, it's too good an offer to turn down. Unless the script is crap. But I'm more worried about the actors. Can we get four actors for a one-act to run at lunchtime? The sex farce died when they couldn't cast six people.

Your Sister asked me to draw her for her website image, and I cobbled it together from three photos. I also worked on the noir comic. I bought new ink because I was afraid my old ink was too old. maybe clumpy and gooey. But the new ink I bought (Higgins) is trash. It's thin and watery. I fished out the old ink (Windsor Newton) from the trash, and it worked fine.

Picture of the Day
I need to work on her hair.

Running on Fume-accinos.

Despite what used to be a robust metabolism, I developed a pudge, and I blame my addiction to frappuccinos. Oddly though, they help one run for days and days. I've run hard this week, going farther and with longer strides to get myself back in shape. I ran last night for just at 3 miles and ran earlier this week for a full 5k. I can already see a difference. Also, I'm trying to give up my lunchtime Sprites. I knew they swelled my gut, but their siren song was too alluring. [shakes fist at Sprite, swears vengeance]

Of course someone brought a box of fresh doughnuts to the office today. And I must eat them. It's the agreement doughnuts and I struck at the Treaty of Delicious after the Revolutionary War.

I bought new pens to try out. They're a step up from my bargain-basement ink pens, and I really need to find the high-end stuff. I intend to use a brush to ink this noir comic because the blacks must be deep and opaque. Pen ink is thin and can fade easily. But I'm nervous about starting the inking. I want this art to be better than that of the six-pager. I want to be proud of this, even if it is a ten-panel joke.

Also, I'll draw Your Sister's headshot for her school webpage this weekend.

Picture of the Day
One of Seattle's two dailies closed this week, and the obituary editor added it to their last listing.


No one asked me what can be done to save papers, but two things are vital:
1) Buy them cheap from the morons who bought them and ran them into the ground. Most papers are drying because their syndicate owners didn't know how to run papers, and tried to make every paper nationally relevant. Papers were trying to compete with USAToday and the Wall Street Journal and New York Times. They burned out. Also, people stopped buying the papers when they reduced their local copy to reach a national audience.

2) Papers should perceive themselves less as newspaper companies and more as new agencies that have a printer. With online options, papers can produce audio and video along side text and graphics. They can be TV channels, radio channels, and newspapers every day. They have to diversify.

Scattered

I opened the workshed for the first time this year and started the lawnmower maintenance. Dad and I made a deal that he'd by us a new one for this year, but, well, you know. I can make this one last another year if need be. I opened the oil pan so it can drain for a few days. I also hammered down the fence stakes around the garden. We indeed have rabbits, and I saw one just as I entered the back yard. I'll change one end to make it removable; that will let us drive a tiller in and out of there.

Your Sister rejected all of my suggested avatars for her teacher webpage. She even asked for the third, drawn picture. Now she wants a drawing of her. I don't think she knows she's starring my current comic project.




The prez predicted his NCAA March madness brackets and named UNC as the overall winner. As did I on Monday. Just sayin'.

Moving Picture of the Day
Did you know they made a musical about Your Aunt Susan? Amazing.

Pulp Nonfiction

A catch-up phone call with mom revealed that she did not like target practice with Her Brother's .38-calibre gun. She thinks she'll sleep better with a gun in the house, and since Louis isn't using his anymore, she claimed dibs. Unfortunately, the kick of the gun was too much for her, and she now wants to downgrade to a .22. She also wants to forgo the license, which is a bad idea. It means two things:
1) She won't be able to buy the gun from a legal source. I assume she's going to buy a gun from a friend of a friend.
2) She can get charged if she's discovered. She doesn't intend to carry it in her purse, but if she drives with it and is pulled over, she's in trouble.

My Wife wants a bike, and My Mom's packing heat illegally. What kind of drive-in-movie reality did I wake up in?

I ran 5k yesterday along the heartbreak hill route. Because our pub moved to the foot of that hill, I get to run by the smokers twice as they wait for a table. Running past an Irish pub on St. Patrick's Day -- again, twice -- is a damn depressing thing. I wanted to run farther, but the hill tightened up my legs, and I walked for part of it. But that was after I finished 5k. I got an email this morning from someone who wanted to start training for a 5k, and I'll be her running buddy. We ran together in a 5k last year on the morning Dad took ill.

Picture of the Day
After taking last week off, Lost returns tonight!

Two Offers

When we staggered home Sunday night, I found a phone message from the actor who played the judge in the Christmas show. He asked me to call back, and I did on Monday. He was looking to cast a role at a play for the local learning center but had cast it after he first called me.

And then today, I found a Facebook message from the director of the annual debut play presentation. The theatre holds a contest to debut a play every year, and this one will apparently deal with young Shakespeare. I'm curious, but the show after that is Rainmaker, and I was asked to audition for that last year. I don't think I can do both. Also, I hope Your Sis can try for Rainmaker too. We could be the leads.

My participation will depend on my confidence that the Christmas show disaster won't be repeated. Right now, as I type this, I only feel dread nihilism. But I'm leaning toward Rainmaker of the two. I know the show (I advocated it in the script committee), and it's a great vehicle for the lead actors. But I may be too old for the role. That's a new reality for me.

For St. Patrick's Day, we opened some Guiness, and it was crap. I think the magic draught widgets in the bottles were broken. Your Sis didn't know about them. When I finished my beer and rattled it inside my bottle, the look on her face that suggested she imagined a mouse skull inside it.

The comic is sketched out, and I'll define the art before I ink.

Are you all exam-ified?

Picture of the Day
Found online.

I Married a Motorcycle Mama

I attended a post-natal baby shower for Kathy and Travis Friday night.They had pizza and beer, and it was good to catch up. They played a very odd game called Name That Poo. The attendees split into two teams. We were given diapers containing melted candy bars, and we had to identify them by smell (I mean, no one wanted to taste them). That was odd. Odder was offering us brownies after. Yikes. We also played baby Pictionary, and I was voted to draw for the men's team. As soon as I walked into the room, I was pulled aside by four people who each asked me about Watchmen. I told them it was huge, it was fun, and it's not Iron Man. I also offered them my trade collection to read.

I killed time shopping before the shower and found framed canvas for almost 50% off. I bought two large canvases, and now they stare at me with their impatient canvas eyes.

We hit Asheville on Saturday to get the taxes taken care of, and we treated Your Mom to lunch. I bought some art pens the pros are raving about, and I showed Your Sis the new Barnes & Noble store at the mall. It's massively massive.

We then found a motorcycle store, and Your Sis went gaga. We found a nice riding jacket she might get for her birthday, and she confirmed that the bike she learned on is the right model for her. Everything else was either too tall or made her sit too far forward. The Honda Rebel is similar to the mid-century Army bikes, and that only makes them cooler (MASHcycle!). Sh's asking me if I want to learn too, and I fear I'll intrude on her new hobby. Also, I can't ride that small a bike, and we don't need to buy two cycles.

We walked to a neighbor house for Irish supper on Sunday. Your Sis made Irish coffee, and we all drank Irish beer. Then the two of us staggered home. A local theatre is presenting Rocky Horror this summer, and I'm trying to talk Your Sis into watching the DVD before she sees the play. I think she becomes more reluctant to see it with each new detail I provide.

The drawing of the new comic story has begun. Did I mention it stars Your Sister?

Picture of the Day
This is her on the Best Bike.

Wow.

Ignore anything I might say and just watch this. This is incredible stuff.



Really Cool, New Sixth-Sense Technology

New Work

The new one-page is now officially thumbnailed. I typed out my script at work with simple panel suggestions and then quickly sketched those at work. I measured out a miniature page layout at home played with panel details before going to bed. I woke up this morning, streamlined the designs, and drew the thumbnails on the miniature page layout. I can move to the full-page art today by drawing the panel grid. I'm already compiling my noir reference comics, including Sin City.

Your Sis was crashing hard last night, and the least little stimulus had her barking with cranky sleepiness. I think I might run tonight unless it gets really, really cold. Which it might.

We're sending spooky mind energy to you for the exams.

Oh, yeah. I somehow managed to pop my thumb out again and had to do the double-joint fix as I lay in bed. I worry that I now have a gimpy thumb. I don't know how it happened this time either. I'm not hanging off cliffs or thumb wrestling bears.

Picture of the Day
The inevitable sequel. I loved watching Welcome Back, Kotter on WGN, but it was always pre-empted by baseball.

Disarming

When we visited Mom Saturday, she told us she was going practice shooting with a neighbor. She took my uncle's gun after he died. She may have shot a gun once before. She said she was told that ammo is so hard to come by because people are stocking up in preparation of a suspected gun ban from Obama. I've heard this stockpiling story since November when he won the election. It's a common rumor; the same fear emerged after Clinton was elected. The local gun stores are running newspaper ads offering to buy guns, much like the ubiquitous TV ads offering market value for gold jewelry. I tried to tell Mom the whole thing is hooey cooked up by gun dealers and radio hosts. She again mentioned the dearth of ammo. I reminded her we're fighting two wars. Our supply is going elsewhere.

Since then, we've heard of Sunday's church shooting in Illinois, yesterday's Alabama shooting spree, and today's German school shooting. I appreciate the second amendment for basic gun rights. Hunters need guns. People protecting their homes need guns. No one needs an automatic rifle. No one needs more than two guns (one upstairs, one downstairs for robberies; an optional handgun when hunting). Of course, nothing can stop a determined crazy person. But we can make it harder for them to rack up a body count when they snap. Maybe the recent news can emphasize a need to reform gun control.

I admit, I've thought of owning a gun recently. I live in exactly the kind of small town that encourages the "gun culture" -- a loaded term I admit -- and, every single day, I fear a shooting spree at her school. I also find myself living next to a highway patrolmen, and I think this will discourage robbers. Your Sister can always throw a cat at a burglar, and the claws will ruin him if the ungodly feline weight doesn't crush his brain bones.

Your Sis made a blonde chili for din-din, and it was good. I didn't grow up a chili fan. More specifically, I was raised on canned chili, which is really ground meat in grease. This was much nicer. I also ran for the second time in three days in this perfect weather.

My next art project will be a one-page noir story. It started as a shared joke with the missus, and I wrote the script in the shower. I knew installing the typewriter there would come in handy.

Picture of the Day
Best blanket ever.

Kill Your Clocks

I hope the change to standard time hasn't hobbled your studies. Seems like horrible planning for the school to give exams the same week of the time shift, as does pissing off tired young people who now have access to scalpels. Your Sister's school also gives a Very Important Test this week, and now the already terrified tenth graders are fog-headed. I can't tell if springing forward has altered my headspace or if I'm still groggy from the midnight movie. I'm old. It's possible.

The warm weather -- which ends this weekend -- has prematurely activated my spring-sense. I want to run and garden. I open up my workshop blinds and draw in sunlight. I enjoy seeing sunlight at 8 p.m. But I am primordial when the alarm clock yells at me.

Sketch of the Day
Another picture from the workshop wall. This is a Incredibles costume. Elastigirl.

She Watches the Watchmen

Friday was not a blur of sleepy spasm as I feared. Your Sis met me in town to see a Celtic Concert, and I realized there was no way I could nod off during it when I noticed our tickets were for third-row seats. We left midway through, however, when Your Sis noticed that there was none of the dancing advertised months before.

We drove down to see Mom Saturday and spoil her for her birthday. I took eclairs, and Your Sis took flowers. Mom requested a lunch at a new Greek-Italian restaurant, and I indulged my love for gyros. My LOVE for gyros. We then took her to the mall for shoe shopping. We crawled under the house to fix her furnace filter, and I discovered it's a job I should do alone from now on. Mom doesn't need to crawl under the house for anything. We did get to wear haz-mat suits, and that was fun. Mom handed me a box of school yearbooks and photo albums of my first wedding. I suppose she's revised history so that never happened, and that's fine. The boxes and all inside them smell like cigarettes, and they are currently airing out in the garage.

As we drove back into Hendersonville, Your Sis noted that we were driving past the movie theatre and suggested we see Watchmen. Right now. We pulled into the parking lot and saw the movie was starting in five minutes. We ran in, bought tickets, ignored the food stands, and took in the movie. She loved it. She read the comic about five years ago and remembered a little about what went in there. But the film has its own story to tell and she liked it. She wants to see it again very soon.

The second viewing only made me like the film more, becuase I could divorce it from the comic. It has a different punchline because the details of the conspiracy change, but do so in a digestible way. The comic has such a detached, formal tone that the movie's energy is wildly distinct. I don't agree with all the changes made, but I understand them. I want the directors-cut DVD right now to see what was trimmed for time constraints. I suspect a lot was. There's a continuity gaffe in the last half hour of the film because of such edits, but it's not a horrible mistake. Just a head scratcher.

The movie is able to build on certain themes and especially the conceit of the 1985 setting. There are celebrity cameos and cultural markers the comic eschewed, and the movie seems to use an '80s-style score similar to that of Blade Runner.

The consensus online seems to be that it succeeds as a film but not so much as an adaptation. I agree. But then, again, this film could easily be four hours long if it was more faithful to the comic. It certainly gives V for Vendetta a run for its money as the best Alan Moore adaptation. The opening-credit sequence alone is worth the ticket price. Be warned: It's a hard R. Blood and body parts abound. Not that the rating stopped the dumbfuck parents who brought small children to see this.

On Sunday, I solved a puzzle that was a few weeks old. I hurt my thumb when my ergonomic office chair tipped over, and I thought I had sprained it. I iced it once to lessen the swelling, but a shock of pain erupted randomly. I couldn't find a pattern to it. I could still use my thumb, but any common activity would surprise me with pain. Just this weekend, I noticed that I no longer could make the joint jerk. My thumbs are double jointed, and I can "pop" them backward but not with my right injured thumb. I made it work again, and in doing so, made the pain go away. Your Sis thinks I slightly dislocated my thumb and then fixed it.

Sketch of the Day
A quick Comedian sketch made for a message board. The character damn near steals the movie.

I Watches the Watchmen

I got confirmation from the anthology people. They got the comic. The delay in emailing me back stemmed form their inability to open a WinZip file on a Mac. That's surprising.

I got home yesterday and shotgunned a Pepsi to help me make it to the wee hours. Your Brother called us to catch up and sounded genuinely envious that I could sneak out for a midnight show. We ate the spaghetti gift from the grateful TV owners, and Your Sis sacked out around ten. I left for the theatre at 10:45, leaving me time to drift into the doughnut shop. I was the first to arrive for the midnight show at the theatre and saw the empty lobby and no line. I walked over the Krispy Kreme and found it closed. CLOSED! KK never closes. It's supposed to be 24-hour. That's the law. No, this closed at 10:30. Back to the theatre I went, and I bought food. I was the first into the screening room as well, and I read a bit to kill time. We had maybe 15 people total for the film. Right behind me sat the majority of my local Starbucks staff. One came in costume:


I was in love as soon as it started. I was waiting for the film to swerve so far away from the comic that I'd be annoyed. In some cases the opposite happened: The comic dialogue doesn't work when spoken aloud, and it sounded flat in many cases. In others, the film added new moments and angles that cocked my head like the RCA dogs. But also the film added bits that were smart and affecting. It ran the full gamut of adaptation success. I'm eager to see it again Sunday.

It's a hard R. Much nudity and much blood. Those elicited giggles from the younger folks. It also tries to inject coolness to characters and moments that shouldn't be cool. And I felt the increased action was the right move; we get to see why the heroes went into this line of work: It's thrilling. The director-cut DVD should be astounding.

I had no trouble getting back home and remained wide awake until my head hit the pillow. My eyes are shot, and my typing is worse than ever. But so far, so good.

T-minus Something Something.

Your Sis went to work today to spite her illness. I took to the sick bed to keep the sickness from spreading. Yes, the sick bed is there for the sick person, but there you go. I made the curry dish last night by re-engineering a confusing recipe -- how can a pound of chicken and onions simmer in 2 teaspoons of water? -- but it was saved by pineapple and pinches of a curry you mailed us. Tikka, I think. We then watched a charming episode of Lost, and I grabbed my last decent handful of sleep until tomorrow night. The Krispy Kreme next to the movie theater will power me home after the film. Ebert gave it four stars, but I'll read his review only after I've seen the film.

The attorney who closed our house and read our August ceremony vows called us last week needing help with his new TV. He couldn't get the peripherals to work with it. I talked him through it on the phone, and all seemed well. Then he and his wife called the next night to say they took back the TV, traded it for a new one, and needed to start from scratch. Again, over the phone, we set them up. Then they called last night with DVD trouble, and I gave them some ideas. That seemed to work, and now they're giddy with the new entertainment center. They made us spaghetti as payment, and we're supposedly going to eat it tonight.

Sketch of the Day
You've seen my workshop's serial-killer wall of photos. The purpose of it was to hold photos that I could grab and draw to exercise those art muscles. I'm finally back at it, and here's an image from a Saks Fifth Avenue ad. Drawing a head at a turn is very tricky, and I need the practice.

I've Got a Golden Ticket

I drove straight to the decent movie theatre closest to our house once I left work. That's in Hendersonville. I got my ticket for the midnight showing of Watchmen, and I will be seeing the film alone. Your Sis is again suffering through an ick, and, even if she were hale and hearty, she ain't staying up that late. She will see it with me on Sunday. As the ticket saleswoman warned me, it's a long movie; couple that with the drive home, and I won't be getting back until about 4 a.m. Friday. Work should be interesting, as will be our planned attendance at a Celtic concert that night. Our hero will be caffeinated.

The few advance reviews I've seen from comic professionals and regular folk alike suggest it's an interesting misfire. I don't expect to be transported in an adaptation that matches the heights of, say, Lord of the Rings. I don't think the director is good enough to manage that, frankly. But he is so savvy of effects and camera trickery that I think it will be a kinetic experience. There is a danger of injecting too much action for the sake of winning over mainstream audiences. For instance, the ads feature a shot of the heroine Silk Spectre crashing through the ceiling of a burning building. In the comic, that scene only sees her escort people out through a window and into the flying owlship of her partner. Watchmen isn't an action story. The few fight scenes last maybe one page each. If there's too much punchy-kicky, fans of the comic might break out into laughter. Not that the film relies on their money to be a success.

I'm no longer geeking over this, midnight excursion to the contrary. Rather, I'm terrified of being online all day Friday and seeing some ruinous spoilers plastered onscreen by a merry prankster. I'm saving myself from rage. I haven't seen a midnight show since the first X-Men movie, and that led me to write the first printed local review of the film in the Upstate. I had a scoop.

Picture of the Day
This is from an undated fashion shoot for mom clothes. At least they picked a clean comic store.

Snow Day Weekend

Because we had a snow day yesterday (Monday), I now have to throw my mind back to Friday. Hmm...

That's not working, so let's move on to what I do remember. The college pal I found on Facebook recently ha a birthday party Saturday night. She was also hosting her boyfriend from the west coast; he plays in a fringe-art band we listened to in college. Nice guy. I can absolutely see why she grabbed him. It was your usual standing-conversation party until the DJs arrived. With three laptops, they made a spontaneous motion art show. They projected image collages on the wall while improvising a thirty-minute ambient symphony. It was from another planet.

Then Elisa and her guy performed a half-composed work on piano and guitar. Another person joined in on clarinet, all while another collage show projected over her piano. I think it was a bone-sober trip, and I was crushed I couldn't contribute anything to it. I wanted to harmonize. While these shows went on, I drew in her journal per her request, but I stopped after a few minutes because it felt rude to not give the performances my full attention. She did this exact mesmerizing spectacles in college, and she blew my Top 40-and-sitcom mind.

During the weekend, I read the book documenting the making of the Watchmen comic. It's a huge tome, designed as a coffee table edition, with heaps of details and archival design material from the artist. Then I read Absolute Watchmen, the over-sized, hi-res, recolored edition, and I saw stuff I missed in reading the normal trade for 20 years. Also, I am now fully girded for the movie. I'm avoiding online preview clips and hope to see the midnight show this Friday morning.

I cleaned up my workshop and placed about 20 pounds of paper in the recycle pile.

The snow day allowed me to read all five volumes of a very Japanese-influenced comic called Scott Pilgrim. I now want to draw a Scott Pilgrim short story and just might. I need a quick art project. I haven't heard from the publisher since I sent in the short story, and I assume they're busy compiling all the submissions.

We knew Sunday evening that Monday would be a stay-home snow day. Much reading ensued. The day ended with wings, as all good Mondays do. We're planning two -- TWO -- curry dishes this week, and I think we're getting competitive about whose will be better.

Picture of the Day

A Weekend Gift

The replacement for sadtrombone.com is here.

You're welcome.

Picture of the Day
This is what it's like in Chez Ass Smack lately.

Grr.

I left work early yesterday when Your Sis called me for help. She locked the keys in her car, and she was hosting a teacher committee immediately. In the car were the committee materials. Off I went. I knew about the meeting well in advance, and the original plan was for me to come home from work at the normal time and hide in the workshop. Now, I was going to be in there for hours. And I was.

The teachers were hashing out senior-project proposals. The meeting was supposed to end around 6. They left at eight, and they were getting sparky as the night rolled on. It became too late for me to start supper, and we snacked instead on meeting leftovers. And as we cleaned up, Your Sis tried to laugh off the calamity by telling me she didn't need those items in the car after all. I almost exploded. Yesterday was the kind of day filled with all the things normal days aren't.

Picture of the Day
Death to everyone. Die die die.