I just got home from the local polling place. Ah, the things you hear folks say – “wow, his name doesn’t even SOUND American!”… really? You think all “American” surnames originated on this continent? Didn’t do well in history, did you, buddy?
Anyway, I would love to tell you that I voted with my head, my heart and my conscience, but I have to come clean on this… … Read more
It took a while, but Little E finally watched Star Wars all the way through over the weekend, over a meal of a homemade cheeseburger and some fries. He’s about the same age I was when I first saw it: four-going-on-five.
He now “gets” what’s up with his two lightsaber flashlights and wants to play Star Wars with me all the time. For unspecified reasons that will become clear to him later, I’ve always got the one with the red lights. (Spoilers, sweetie.)
One thing does seem to have struck a chord with him, though (literally): he loved the music. At naptime on Sunday, he curled up next to his mother and asked her to hum Star Wars music to him. She found this a daunting request. Now, I could go into how silly it is for a former music major and a lifelong Star Wars fan to not know the best-selling soundtrack of all time backward and forward (who’s the music major here?), but I’ll spare her the embarrassment. (Oh… wait. There was probably a more graceful way to mention that.)
He asked me on Monday night, “Dad, do you have any Star Wars music?”
Who, moi? A guy who can’t read sheet music to save his life but still geeks out over what the woodwind section is doing at any given moment in any given soundtrack?
Why… yes. Yes I do. My dear boy, I thought you’d never ask.
I have a feeling my room is going to suddenly be a lot more interesting to him.
One of Little E’s chores that he can earn money for around the house is feeding kitties and doggies. Cat feeding is normally a bit chaotic – you don’t have to feed again for two days because he usually spills as much in the floor as he gets in the bowls. But tonight? Spotless. I was shocked. The following conversation took place:
If he’s getting the kind of on-the-job perk package where he can fart on the job, do I really need to pay him?… Read more
Final page count: 396 … Read more
A quick bit of blawg, so I don’t break my non-stop blogging streak:
VWORP!1 is undergoing last-minute revisions after a brutal editorial once-over. I had someone look it over and, you know, when you have someone look things like this over, you expect them to be uncompromising. The good news: it’s a good book, it just needed lots of little persnickety grammatical and punctuation fixes. But the knock-on effect has been a little bit of a delay and an increased page count (I realized, very late in the game, that there was stuff I’d left out). This is why you have someone else look over your crap. Sort of like the little internet meme graphic making the rounds: proper punctuation is the difference between knowing your shit and knowing you’re shit. That, and some minor formatting/layout fixes, have pushed the page count dangerously close to 400.
I printed out a copy, from beginning to end, on paper, just to look at it. I learned two things from doing this.
I hope you like it. It should still be ready for OVGE.… Read more
You work for us.
Here’s the thing: with a lot of the public, your chances of re-election are only as good as the last thing you do to honk everyone off before the next election.
Some of us are watching a bit more closely. Your chances of re-election are only as good as what you do that erodes our freedom. We’re the ones who call and write (and can gauge, from the responses to those contacts, whether or not what we’re saying is being taken on board).
Some of you aren’t even the people I voted in to office. But I nevertheless recognize you as the rightfully elected representative of the majority, and deal with you politely and professionally as such. I’ve got a lot of time on my hands, so I’ve become a bit of a lobbyist with no budget and no portfolio. (By the way, that’s the only kind of lobbyist there should be.) Perhaps naively, I never completely give up faith that I can make a cohesive and persuasive argument and chance your mind, thus contributing in my own small way toward changing your votes.
But hey, while we’re on the subject of votes, here’s the thing. You can be voted out of office. I’m keeping a running tally on how you’re voting on stuff. I’m making sure other people know about it. I have about an even chance of casting my own vote in a few months and replacing you with someone I do want in office.
I also have about an even chance of being outvoted too. That’s the great thing about how this country works.
But I have no chance of being voted out myself. I’ll still be here, whether you’re in office or not. Whether it’s someone who I feel is more in line with my values and concerns, or whether it’s you, I’ll still be in touch. I won’t shut up. I’m your constituent, term limit: [not applicable].
I strongly recommend you listen to what I, and others who take the time to be actively involved in the process, have to say. Ignore us at your political peril.… Read more
My desk is a little cluttered. Nail clippers? Check. Ye Holy Packers mug? Check. Advil? Check. USB-to-whatever adapters? Check. TARDIS console and knocked over Cyberman? Check. Cat with a buzz cut?
Check. Good night, little fat feral cat. Don’t drink my mug full of watered-down pomegranate lemonade, please. It won’t help with the fat part. Trust me, I know of what I speak.… Read more
Today was a beautiful day, and Little E and I were running some errands in Fort Smith, so we grabbed a bite to eat and took our food to one of the covered picnic tables at Carol Ann Cross Park. Almost as soon as we got there and started to dig in, we had company.
Evidently, folks ignore the “don’t feed the geese and ducks” rule with regularity, because these freeloaders showed up expecting some free lunch. They stuck around the whole time we ate, politely waiting. They really quacked me up.
How do you solve a problem like Maria? Well, when the poor kitty gets so tubby that she can no longer effectively clean herself, and a killer summer is just around the corner, you get her a buzz cut.
She’s having a really hard time getting over the anesthetic – she’s reverted to being feral, more or less. Seems like she should be out from under the drugs by now, but she’s still not herself. I don’t know if she partook of the kitty equivalent of the brown acid, or if it’s just wounded pride at this point. She’s very sleek and soft, on those rare occasions when she’ll allow herself to be petted. Right now, the only one she’s allowing to have any contact with her is me. No other kitties and no other humans. I’m a little worried about her.
I’d planned to make this a whole week of posts about various creative endeavours I’ve been involved in, but this very strange bout of kitty behavior has thrown a bit of a spanner in the works. Sorry for the lame post today; we’ll try to resume normal programming tomorrow. In the meantime, I can offer up my TV production history section or my packaging design portfolio as consolation prizes.… Read more
The other morning, Facebook spent the ad money spent by my good friends at Intellivision Productions to remind me that I already “like” them. I had to grab a screencap and add my own commentary.
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