Braggy Brag Brag

Braggadocious Picture of the Day
Here's the book in Barnes & Noble. Technically then you can go into their stores and find my words on the shelves.I might not ever get over this.

Get Those Eggs

The deputy had his first easter egg hunt at daycare on Friday. The classes were split into two age groups, and he was in the older set (barely). The eggs were placed in the big common room of the daycare, and the kids were let loose. Because Your Sister and I both had the day off, we could walk him through it. He didn't understand that you should gather all the eggs you can before sitting down to open them. But he did find a stash and claimed a bunch of them. He had his first chocolate (we think) as the plastic eggs had M&Ms. He managed to sit through another meal at a restaurant not long after. I gave him one of the vehicle books I bought a few weeks back, and that got held his attention while we ate.

He got a second egg hunt Saturday and another yesterday. It gets him outside and snacking. We had just wrapped up the Sunday hunt, when I noticed how nice the weather was and suggested we get back on the bikes. Within 20 minutes, we were helmeted and zooming through town. I feel it a little bit today, but I need the exercise to help burn off these months' worth of stored calories from drawing a comic.

The next-door neighbor told me that another neighbor has a tiller we can borrow to start our gardens. The next-door folks haven't done this before, and I'll walk them through it. The only concern is whether their back yard gets another sunlight. I've got my notes from the previous years of our garden, so I can give them approximate guidelines for harvesting.

I am within an hour of finishing the comic inks. That doesn't include the cover, but that does mean I'll have about a month to digitally tweak the pages. I started price comparison for display items (Michael's is cheaper than Office Max for some tabletop doo-dads, and that's surprising). The roller girls used the same smartphone credit-card reader I got earlier in the year, which may or may not work in the bowels of the Charlotte convention center.

I did see the girls roll Saturday at their new place. There will be adjustments. The sounds system as even worse than the civic center. The beer selection was major brands in cans.The food was iffy, and the sightlines are very limited. There are only a few raised bleachers, and the rest were ordinary folding chairs on the ground. We saw the first bout from the third row and missed a bunch. We were lucky to move to the front row for the second bout, but those chairs are killers. It's a step down from the civic center, to be sure, but the team says they were facing the prospect of doubling ticket prices if they didn't move.

Your Sister is off this week and despairs over the grading work facing her. She has the deputy at home today (which won't help). My Mom is asking to help out more for the beachhouse, and thought we were going to Myrtle Beach until I set her straight last night. I don't know if that affects her anticipation for the trip. I think she'll still be up for it. She hasn't see then boy since New Year's, and she doesn't shrug off any time at the beach.

I tried to give blood Saturday but was sent home for having too little iron. This almost happened last time; a second test cleared me to donate. This time, I was told the second score was still too low and given a list of food to beef up my iron count. The list had a lot (and I mean, a lot) of food I had eaten in the past week: shrimp, chicken, pork, peppers, tomatoes, etc. Oddly the donor-to-be on the other side of the desk scrim was also told she had too little iron and was sent home within five minutes of my dismissal. That seems strange. I've given blood since college, and this has not happened before.

Picture of the Day
These kids were kooky.

My Words, Years Later

Take a look at heygregory and see the story of a pretty shocking Wednesday. Go ahead. I'll wait.

So yeah. Wild.

I've talked online for months with folks who were champing at the bit to get this collection. Not a lot of people got the original series when it was published in single issues. I did because I knew the character from Doom Patrol, and I was keen to get the spin-off. A lot of people who want this collection have never read the story, but these creators have since become very big names separately and together. The eager readers I talked to are trusting the creators to deliver their usual fantastic work. Even with new materials inside the collection, I was gonna let it go by. I was happy with my issues.

I saw the new book in the Asheville comic store and thumbed through. The owner gave me the friendly hard sell. I told him I had it covered, but thanks anyway. And then I turned the cover and saw some words that looked familiar. Then I saw the attribution. Then I Googled my review and saw the original text. I almost cried. I'm still staggered, hours later.

Picture of the Day
The president met the original Uhura actress from Star Trek. Note her necklace. She's a longtime ambassador for NASA and science studies.

Grin and Bear It

Your Sister had a root canal yesterday to quiet a nagging toothache. She was able to eat normally just a few hours later. The hygienists took turns watching as the procedure isn't that common any more. Actually, aside from TV show plots, I have no idea how common it ever was. Because it's a delicate procedure around an active nerve, the numbing injections are many and plentiful, and she is feeling those shot sites more than any tooth pain.We traded tooth horror stories, and she thinks I had it worse with my bombed-out wisdom tooth. I dunno. That was only one night, and it did give me the chance to read 2001 at 4 in the morning. Now she's had a root canal and childbirth. I think she's covered for classic sitcom pains.

She takes the deputy to visit the chickens every day after work. It gives them time together outside the nursery, but it also keeps him up later, and our suppertime is now shoved back to about 9. On the other hand, he's had dry diapers for two consecutive nights.  I'd rather eat later and sleep through the night. As his face continues to settle, he's looking more like Your Sister. Thank God.

I'm inking page 28 as of tonight, giving me just about ten pages to go. I'm currently sketching the cover. I think this pace is ok. My eyes made me stained from Sharpie vapor, but the marker high is glorious.

I mowed the yard AND the garden Sunday, and now that the topsoil is bare, it screams for seeds. The planting will happen soon, methinks. 

Picture of the Day
A young Vincent Price, one of my favorite actors. In this image, he looks a lot like Leonard Nimoy, and I wonder Price's Spock might have worked.

Neighbor Eggs

I bought the deputy a book shaped like a school bus yesterday. It has wheels that let him push it as if it were a bus toy. He's latched onto his cement truck toy to the point that he carries it around and plays with it in his high chair. Makes it tricky to get the spoon to his face with this bulky toy in the way. I figured a smaller toy would make feeding easier, and he could carry it wherever he goes. Not only does he adore this thing, but now he can say the word "bus." He took it to bed last night. He played with it the entire way to school this morning.

We returned the egg carton to our neighbors yesterday. They had given us eggs from their chickens Sunday. This was my first time seeing the birds, and, sure enough, they have about ten chickens in their backyard. Big ones too. We got to see them pounce on leftover rice. We also visited with the next-door neighbors, and we talked motorcycles and plans for gardens. They want to start a garden in their yard, and we've talked about sharing tiller rental.

Picture of the Day
I just finished a really detailed comic panel, and my pace may pick up. I'm losing my sense of progress.Like I'm riding one of these things.

The First Draft Was More Entertaining

My eyes are dying from inking. Also, my pens are dying. But my eyes have seniority. I inked three pages this weekend, a surprise to me what with all those $!@% buildings I put in the background. Seriously, the next comic takes place in the desert. I don't have a subconscious reference for skyscrapers. I didn't grow up near them. They are alien architecture. Might as well be cathedrals. Luckily, I'm getting into the action half of the comic, and it's a parade of big people panels.

I was able to get as much done because Your Sister took the deputy out and about between smothering thunderstorms.

 ... And the blog just ate my long blog post.

Highlights: 
+   I dusted off the lawnmower to get it ready to work.
+   I churned the compost pile to get it ready for the garden.
+   I cooked a new recipe (see the Doom blog later today) with an egg provided by a neighbor chicken.
+   Thanks to our tax refund, I am set for the conventions this year. Thank GOD. And Obama.

Picture of the Day
Here's the unfortunate Goldfinger gal.

Is This Thing On?

It seemed like the deputy was handling the time change well, but last night it took almost an hour longer to get him settled in his crib. Even then, he was still awake, but he accepted a book to browse and said bye-bye, and we could finally eat.

Of course he stays up on the night we set aside to get work done. We have too much to do these days to veg in front of the TV. She's got grades. I got the comic (inking page 16 out of 37). Now I can do my work with the TV on. She can't. When we finally got him in the parking gear, we quickly ate dinner and got to work. We probably called a stop around midnight. And then he woke up at 4 for a diaper and drink. I am currently dead-ish. I need all the caffeine.

Picture of the Day
Getting cranky too.

Meltdown

The school hosted a charity dinner. Well, more like an outreach dinner for the Spanish community. The Spanish teachers hosted this potluck dinner, and we took the deputy. It was his first meal out in a long time, and we knew he'd be somewhat suspicious of new food, but we also knew there'd be enough familiar stuff to at least hold him until we got home. Grapes. Nachos.

INVENTION: If you crunch up salsa chips so a toddler can eat them with a spoon, you create a new chip breakfast cereal: Nach-Os.

He ran around a lot. A lot. Your Sister played teacher-hostess and caught up with former students. I chased the boy. We traded shifts watching him as we snacked, and it became obvious quickly that we'd need to grab dinner once we got home and put him to bed. Our hope was that the bedtime routine would go smoothly since we would be getting home an hour later than normal, and he had burned himself out with the running.

No problem. right?

He was not fine. He was a banshee for two hours after we got home. Not even the usually calming Time Out could get him settled.

Baby schedules are LOCKED IN.
 

I'm Doing It

When I attended HeroesCon last year, I developed the heady resolve that I would man a table there this year. I even had a kinda-sorta invite from my onetime Greenville, SC, publisher to join his table. But I was pessimistic about our distinct works meshing. I do superheroes. Those guys do everything but. I thought that I would be better off getting my own table and trying my luck as a bona fide indy comic publisher.

(Not that I have anything against the Greenville guys. I owe them for getting me started and repeatedly asking me for submissions.)

When this year's Fanaticon failed to materialize, I considered HeroesCon a necessity to sell the new comic. This latest issue wraps up the eMMA subplot about the previous robot fight league champion, and I wanted to get that done and out there so I could move back to Focus and the other heroes.  I've gone to the convention site, and downloaded the table reservation form, and cobbled together the $300 for the table.
All I have to do is fill out the form and send it in, but I'm now struck with anxiety.

This will be expensive. I need to print this year's comic. I'll need to get a hotel room. I'll need to eat. How much can I sell vs. how much will I spend? Suddenly, working a table by myself for three days seems daunting. I could do it for Fanaticon, but that was one day. HeroesCon is huger in all ways.

The comic store owner near the office suggested sharing a table with other local creators, and that sounded iffy. What if we don't get along? What if he's a jerk?

With rumors of a new local convention popping up before the end of the year, HeroesCon would not longer be my one and only option. I could just stay local, work a crowd I'm familiar with from that side of the table. But that seemed like a cop out. And after airing my concerns to Your Sister, the second guessing suddenly sounded like silliness.

I decided that I want this. I've attended HeroesCon as a convention rookie, as a seasoned attendee, as a reporter for a daily paper, as a budding comic creator, and as a member of a loose posse of friends. I've worked short shifts on tables for friends. Now I want that last bit of novelty. I want to have my own table with my stuff, hobnobbing and networking and taking pictures of the kids in costumes. Sure, I'll share with someone else if need be. And we'll get along, or he'll get gone.

This shit is getting done. End of discussion.

Your Sister is onboard. She's been a great cheerleader for my comic stuff, and this is gonna be my biggest show (probably ever; I literally can't imagine working a table at San Diego).

I've penciled 30 pages of the comic, with fewer than 10 pages to go. It's mid-February. I'm on schedule. And if there is a local convention, it will be a breeze compared to the Charlotte convention.

Picture of the Day
I just ordered a smartphone accessory that runs credit/debit cards. How nifty is that?

Grapevine Whisperings

I've recently lost the ability to get up early enough to draw comics before work. It's dragging me down. I'll be able to work on some pages tonight as Your Sister chaperones the school dance. That's so similar to my high school life that I need to drown my sorrows in Jolt Cola.

It's possible that the local convention will happen this year with new management. It's practically a hypothetical, and there are no specifics currently. But people realize that the brand name was marketed to so well that losing the show would be tragic. Asheville Pizza, for instance, holds an annual superhero race near Halloween. They would kill to be a part of this show, right?

Picture of the Day
They're really doing this. We should make our movie date now.

Simple Answers

Both the admitting nurse and the pediatrician chuckled at the ER tooth theory. The doctor asked what the ER said about his white blood cells, and I told him they didn't want to do blood work. He immediately ordered it done. The numbers are elevated enough to make him suspect he could have something viral, and he used air quotes when diagnosing a tracheal infection. It's a chest cold. He's got azithromycin, and he's already improving. He'll be back in daycare Thursday.

Picture of the Day
He definitely has the teeth of your family. Full moon = werebaby! He has canines erupting, for sure.

To ER is Human

The deputy has drooled for a few days, and his head opened up over the weekend, but I attributed the latter to walks outside. His drooling got worse at daycare yesterday, and, by the time we got home, he was very cranky. He refused dinner. I had heard him grind his teeth for a few days, and we had given him Orajel. We gave him more last night, and he cried all the way through his shower. Another Orajel dose didn't help, and we called the nurse hotline. She worried about a throat obstruction and recommended the ER.We vamoosed.

I'll cut out the long wait, but I will mention that we had given up on seeing a doctor and were walking out the door when a nurse finally called for us. X-rays showed no obstruction. The strep test was negative. He had a mild fever, and the drool wouldn't stop. He could drink, which the nurse and doctor said was a good sign. We were told to see his pediatrician today and look at his teeth. There may be too many coming in. So this might be teething on a grand scale. There was much joking about the family teeth. we were punch drunk and goofy when we got home at midnight.

I have him at home this morning, and we see the doctor in a few hours. His eyes are watering, and his fever persists. His cough sounds horrible. He ate breakfast but can't/won't eat the goldfish snacks. I think his throat is raw from last night's crying.

Moving Picture of the Day
This is the reboot of the Spider-Man film franchise, giving us yet another origin story in only ten years' time since the first Sam Raimi movie. I'm not enthused. I am curious how he gets all that hair under the mask.

Mrs. Hyde

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

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

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

Picture of the Day
My weekends plans are exciting.

Diagnosis: Moidah

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

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

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

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

The Masque of the Red Sniffles

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

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

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

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

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

Picture of the Day
We need therapeutic cookies.

And the Results Are In

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

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

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

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

Doin' the Tubes

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

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

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

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

Picture of the Day
And now for a celebratory lean.

Follow-Up Call

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

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

+  +  +

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

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

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

Picture of the Day
Models and portrait. Huh. 

TURN. IT. UP.

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

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

A Good Walk Spoiled

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

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

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

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

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

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

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