Lingering Effects

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wracked With Sickness

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

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

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

Picture of the Day
The Milky Way over Nepal. 

Yes, Again.

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

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

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

Picture of the Day
Hey, mom! Watch this!

Supplemental Income

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

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

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

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

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

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

Picture of the Day
Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice! 

Back to the Doctor

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Get Him Healthy

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

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

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

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

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


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

Battle Stations!

Our first car sickness disaster happened yesterday.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Time Change

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

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

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

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

Picture of the Day
Spooky-ooky necronauts.

Beloved Leftovers

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

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

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

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

Halloween Weekend

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

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

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

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

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

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

Repeat Attraction

Another ear infection has set in.

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

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

Picture of the Day
Los Dos Frodos.

Keep the Receipt

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

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

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

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

Harvest Time

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

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

The sizes again ranged from finger to cat.

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

+  +  +

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

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

+  +  +

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

+  +  +

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

In the Interim

And we're back.

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

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

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

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

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

Picture of the Day
Back in the day.

Glad To Be Back At Work

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

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

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

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

No Contest

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hit or Misses

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

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

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

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

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

Huzzah for Phobias!

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

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

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

Picture of the Day
The sidekick and monkey enjoy breakfast.

Parental Back-Up

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

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

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

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

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

Picture of the Day
Fogbank.

DragonCon Video

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