This just in, french kissing your dog causes colon cancer, melanoma and anal fissures.
Poor Sophie will be devastated when she finds out she can no longer engage in interspecies kissing. Currently she holds the world record for most french kisses stolen as a result of interspecies assault.
Specifically her usual modus operandus is to leap into someone's lap and ram her long tongue into their mouths before they can react.
However as a result of this new medical information we'll be forced to have her tongue removed.
Ah well.. them's the breaks eh?
Friday, February 27, 2009
Thursday, February 26, 2009
En Guarde!
This is Moira, warrior-princess. Also my daughter, when she's not dressing herself or her dolls I encourage her to go out and slay dragons.
Actually this reminds me of a story from years ago.
She and her brother were playing with a pop-gun, the old fashioned kind with a cork in the end attached by a string. After a bit they tired of it and switched to a different game. Matthew dressed up in one of his previous halloween costumes, in this case a green dragon suit, while Moira put on one of her princess dresses.
He was chasing Moira around the house in circles, her frilly pink dress flying as she ran for her very life. After several circuits she noticed the pop-gun lying discarded on the floor of the living room.
Suddenly her entire demeanor changed. Snatching up the gun she turned on the approaching dragon. Snarling her defiance she screamed out, "Die you naughty dragon!" Pop! She fired the pop-gun point blank into the rampaging monster's chest.
My son, being a good sport, promply collapsed and died, bleeding out his heart's blood on the ground like any decent dragon would after being shot at close range.
Standing over him, she looked down. In an instant her fierce visage transformed, from warrior to maiden. My little princess dropped her gun, performed a cute little pirouette and with a perfectly sweet smile said, "Do you want to dance with me?!" She then pranced away.
I laughed so hard my sides hurt.
My son the dragon declined to dance. I fear the dance would have done him more damage than the gun did.
Actually this reminds me of a story from years ago.
She and her brother were playing with a pop-gun, the old fashioned kind with a cork in the end attached by a string. After a bit they tired of it and switched to a different game. Matthew dressed up in one of his previous halloween costumes, in this case a green dragon suit, while Moira put on one of her princess dresses.
He was chasing Moira around the house in circles, her frilly pink dress flying as she ran for her very life. After several circuits she noticed the pop-gun lying discarded on the floor of the living room.
Suddenly her entire demeanor changed. Snatching up the gun she turned on the approaching dragon. Snarling her defiance she screamed out, "Die you naughty dragon!" Pop! She fired the pop-gun point blank into the rampaging monster's chest.
My son, being a good sport, promply collapsed and died, bleeding out his heart's blood on the ground like any decent dragon would after being shot at close range.
Standing over him, she looked down. In an instant her fierce visage transformed, from warrior to maiden. My little princess dropped her gun, performed a cute little pirouette and with a perfectly sweet smile said, "Do you want to dance with me?!" She then pranced away.
I laughed so hard my sides hurt.
My son the dragon declined to dance. I fear the dance would have done him more damage than the gun did.
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Armed for the Dawn, Defeated by the Night
I visited Mom a few days ago... paying her back for a favor, but while I was there I got her to open up the old cedar chest for me again.
Since I had recently spent a lot of time on my kids shields and swords I had an urge to look at mine again. After all these years they still rest safely in her chest, sealed away should I have need of them again.
Looking at them I was a little surprised. The shield was just as I remembered it, but the sword was subtly different than my memories. The handle was longer, the quillons formed differently. All in all it was essentially the same, but subtly different than my memory.
I guess it just goes to show that time makes us strangers to even our own pasts. Even the stories of our own lives do not remain untouched. They shift.. ever so slightly... like colors under the sun. Dim in the first light of dawn, brighter in the morning, washed out with burning light at miday.... bright and true in the afternoon, and then dimming in the twilight hours of evening, finally leeched of all color under the light of moon and stars.
Just as our own stories burn and then fade away.
Just as we do.
Since I had recently spent a lot of time on my kids shields and swords I had an urge to look at mine again. After all these years they still rest safely in her chest, sealed away should I have need of them again.
Looking at them I was a little surprised. The shield was just as I remembered it, but the sword was subtly different than my memories. The handle was longer, the quillons formed differently. All in all it was essentially the same, but subtly different than my memory.
I guess it just goes to show that time makes us strangers to even our own pasts. Even the stories of our own lives do not remain untouched. They shift.. ever so slightly... like colors under the sun. Dim in the first light of dawn, brighter in the morning, washed out with burning light at miday.... bright and true in the afternoon, and then dimming in the twilight hours of evening, finally leeched of all color under the light of moon and stars.
Just as our own stories burn and then fade away.
Just as we do.
Sunday, February 22, 2009
Fang the Mighty
The tunnel was dim as Fang strode forward. His companions followed not far behind as they left the sun and light behind them, their way lit only by flickering torches. A foul smell and guttural speech announced the arrival of their foes.
They had just reached the intersection of 3 passageways... and in the dim light.. they could see bugbears facing them from both paths ahead. Looking back they could see more approaching from behind as well.
As the party considered their options... Fang moved. "You will die now!" His defiant shout rang out, and without waiting he charged into the monstrous forms on the right hand path.
With a sigh that would have been quite audible in quieter circumstances, Talia the sorceress moved after Fang. Her shorter legs made it difficult to keep up with Fang as the half-orc warrior charged into the bugbears.
"Shoot them!" yelled Fang back to her, as his axe bit deep into the first of their enemies.
Fire raced from her fingertips to strike the next enraged monster stepping up over his fallen comrade. "Now you see why you should be nice to me Fang!"
"First we kill them... then I kill you after!" As usual Fang's logic left a lot to be desired. But Talia continued firing rays of fire and ice, helping her violent and unreasonable comrade in his merciless advance through the tunnel.
Behind them the druid, Lobo, had summoned help and with his wolf, Scar, was blocking the path behind them, to the left, Rogar and Valin had moved to hold the bugbears coming from that direction as well.
"Maybe we should move back.... stay closer to the others..." Talia started to say. But at that point the bugbear chieftain appeared at the back of the hall. Fang's enthusiasm redoubled as he began hacking his way to the leader.
"Shoot the big ugly one!" He yelled back to Talia.
Under her breath she mumbled... "Does he realize he's telling me to shoot himself!" She glared at Fang's backside for a moment, before refocusing her attention. Raising her small hand and calling to the magic within her... a greenish ray shot forth.. striking the largest of the bugbears... sapping his strength while he roared with rage.
Pointing at her and shouting... the chieftain was giving some sort of orders now. Yet another bugbear fell before Fang's axe as he stepped closer, but there were still too many between them. The leaders orders became clear however, as the bugbears in the back pulled out javelins and drew back to fling them at the adventurers.
"Ha! You think that will stop me!" Fang laughed as he advanced, but the javelins flew past him... at the tiny gnome maid. "Shit!" Fang grimaced as he saw the gnome was wounded. "I kill her! Not you!" And he began hewing his way to the javelineers.
Talia struggled with the pain as she retreated further back down the corridor, out of the sight of the javelineers. Sagging against the wall.. she wondered what to do, when a familiar form stepped up to her.
"Who's guarding the rear!?" She said with some concern, as Lobo examined her wounds. He answered her with a feral grin.
"I wouldn't worry too much about it." Shrieks and screams echoed back up the passage. Was that a bear she heard? Meanwhile the druid produced a wand, and with a few short words.. she felt the pain disappearing as her wounds closed.
"You'd better help him." The ragged druid said, and gesturing again, a large angry dire badger appeared amidst the bugbears facing Fang. "I have to get back to my end of things." And the druid stepped away... heading back to the sounds of an angry bear behind them.
Drawing herself up to her full but diminutive height... Talia returned to see how Fang was faring.
"Get this stupid badger out of my way!" He yelled, facing a large door. Dead bugbears lay strewn about, their bodies looking like so many broken dolls. The badger was tearing at the wood, but Fang couldn't get close enough to bring his axe to bear on it.
Fang was stunned for moment though.. as lighting struck the door, blasting it to flinders. Looking back he saw the druid waving as he walked away, back down the passage. "Asshole!" Fang's gratitude was less than spectacular, as he strode into the small room ahead, following the enraged badger.
Darts of pure energy lanced past him to strike the one bugbear standing behind the door, between Fang and the leader. "No! Shoot the big one!" Fang yelled. As if to demonstrate he and the badger tore into the largest of the bugbears with ferocious abandon.
Another greenish ray struck the ugly humanoid, weakening him further. The badger vanished as the limit of his summoning ended, but the leaders fate was already sealed as Fang's axe flashed again, burying itself in his chest.
"Ha! I kill you and you are the loser!" The half-orc roared his victory.
"He's dead Fang, I'm sure he realizes." Talia replied sarcastically as she looked over the fallen bugbears. "I'm going to go check on Rogar and Valin."
"I still kill you too, Pretty Butterfly!" Fang smiled with a psychotic gleam in his eye as she turned away from him.
Ignoring his maniacal posturings she sighed inwardly as she began running back to their companions. Sometimes, she thought to herself, I'm just not sure if he's serious, joking, or just retarded.
They had just reached the intersection of 3 passageways... and in the dim light.. they could see bugbears facing them from both paths ahead. Looking back they could see more approaching from behind as well.
As the party considered their options... Fang moved. "You will die now!" His defiant shout rang out, and without waiting he charged into the monstrous forms on the right hand path.
With a sigh that would have been quite audible in quieter circumstances, Talia the sorceress moved after Fang. Her shorter legs made it difficult to keep up with Fang as the half-orc warrior charged into the bugbears.
"Shoot them!" yelled Fang back to her, as his axe bit deep into the first of their enemies.
Fire raced from her fingertips to strike the next enraged monster stepping up over his fallen comrade. "Now you see why you should be nice to me Fang!"
"First we kill them... then I kill you after!" As usual Fang's logic left a lot to be desired. But Talia continued firing rays of fire and ice, helping her violent and unreasonable comrade in his merciless advance through the tunnel.
Behind them the druid, Lobo, had summoned help and with his wolf, Scar, was blocking the path behind them, to the left, Rogar and Valin had moved to hold the bugbears coming from that direction as well.
"Maybe we should move back.... stay closer to the others..." Talia started to say. But at that point the bugbear chieftain appeared at the back of the hall. Fang's enthusiasm redoubled as he began hacking his way to the leader.
"Shoot the big ugly one!" He yelled back to Talia.
Under her breath she mumbled... "Does he realize he's telling me to shoot himself!" She glared at Fang's backside for a moment, before refocusing her attention. Raising her small hand and calling to the magic within her... a greenish ray shot forth.. striking the largest of the bugbears... sapping his strength while he roared with rage.
Pointing at her and shouting... the chieftain was giving some sort of orders now. Yet another bugbear fell before Fang's axe as he stepped closer, but there were still too many between them. The leaders orders became clear however, as the bugbears in the back pulled out javelins and drew back to fling them at the adventurers.
"Ha! You think that will stop me!" Fang laughed as he advanced, but the javelins flew past him... at the tiny gnome maid. "Shit!" Fang grimaced as he saw the gnome was wounded. "I kill her! Not you!" And he began hewing his way to the javelineers.
Talia struggled with the pain as she retreated further back down the corridor, out of the sight of the javelineers. Sagging against the wall.. she wondered what to do, when a familiar form stepped up to her.
"Who's guarding the rear!?" She said with some concern, as Lobo examined her wounds. He answered her with a feral grin.
"I wouldn't worry too much about it." Shrieks and screams echoed back up the passage. Was that a bear she heard? Meanwhile the druid produced a wand, and with a few short words.. she felt the pain disappearing as her wounds closed.
"You'd better help him." The ragged druid said, and gesturing again, a large angry dire badger appeared amidst the bugbears facing Fang. "I have to get back to my end of things." And the druid stepped away... heading back to the sounds of an angry bear behind them.
Drawing herself up to her full but diminutive height... Talia returned to see how Fang was faring.
"Get this stupid badger out of my way!" He yelled, facing a large door. Dead bugbears lay strewn about, their bodies looking like so many broken dolls. The badger was tearing at the wood, but Fang couldn't get close enough to bring his axe to bear on it.
Fang was stunned for moment though.. as lighting struck the door, blasting it to flinders. Looking back he saw the druid waving as he walked away, back down the passage. "Asshole!" Fang's gratitude was less than spectacular, as he strode into the small room ahead, following the enraged badger.
Darts of pure energy lanced past him to strike the one bugbear standing behind the door, between Fang and the leader. "No! Shoot the big one!" Fang yelled. As if to demonstrate he and the badger tore into the largest of the bugbears with ferocious abandon.
Another greenish ray struck the ugly humanoid, weakening him further. The badger vanished as the limit of his summoning ended, but the leaders fate was already sealed as Fang's axe flashed again, burying itself in his chest.
"Ha! I kill you and you are the loser!" The half-orc roared his victory.
"He's dead Fang, I'm sure he realizes." Talia replied sarcastically as she looked over the fallen bugbears. "I'm going to go check on Rogar and Valin."
"I still kill you too, Pretty Butterfly!" Fang smiled with a psychotic gleam in his eye as she turned away from him.
Ignoring his maniacal posturings she sighed inwardly as she began running back to their companions. Sometimes, she thought to herself, I'm just not sure if he's serious, joking, or just retarded.
Friday, February 20, 2009
Psychic Powers
I'm a perfect husband.
I know.. you're jealous right? You either wish you were me.. or that you had married me. OR BOTH!
This is what I got my lovely wife for Valentine's day. I knew exactly what she wanted because I can read her mind. That makes me better than the rest of you loser husbands out there. May you all rot in hell.
Just kidding.
I am better than the rest of you... but not because of this. My sweetie put it in he Amazon wishlist... no psychic powers needed. The real reason I'm better than half a dozen other loser husbands is because the week before Valentine's I bought her some daffodils at the store.
Why?
Just because.. they were pretty and made me think of her. So I got 'em and brought 'em home.
I'm not really that good at scheduled holidays. And I am not perfect.. Sometimes I'm an ass. But...
I play to win... every day. Dats my woman!
I'm sleepy.. looking up this post is a bit.... eccentric.
Oh well.... night everyone.
I know.. you're jealous right? You either wish you were me.. or that you had married me. OR BOTH!
This is what I got my lovely wife for Valentine's day. I knew exactly what she wanted because I can read her mind. That makes me better than the rest of you loser husbands out there. May you all rot in hell.
Just kidding.
I am better than the rest of you... but not because of this. My sweetie put it in he Amazon wishlist... no psychic powers needed. The real reason I'm better than half a dozen other loser husbands is because the week before Valentine's I bought her some daffodils at the store.
Why?
Just because.. they were pretty and made me think of her. So I got 'em and brought 'em home.
I'm not really that good at scheduled holidays. And I am not perfect.. Sometimes I'm an ass. But...
I play to win... every day. Dats my woman!
I'm sleepy.. looking up this post is a bit.... eccentric.
Oh well.... night everyone.
Respite from Suffering
This is me leaving the same bookstore I mentioned before.
The stupid grin on my face is because of the knowledge that I had reading material to last me another day. Whew!
People just don't realize how much work goes into being a bookworm.
The stupid grin on my face is because of the knowledge that I had reading material to last me another day. Whew!
People just don't realize how much work goes into being a bookworm.
Addiction
I finished the third book in a series the other day. I went to get the 4th from the local bookstore and it was sold out!
Panic began to set in. But calm reasoning gave me some ideas. I had a friend with a copy. I called him.
"Sorry.. I have it.. but I loaned it to my mother."
SHIT
Wait.. the library!
"The library is closed for renovations.", said my helpful wife.
Noooooooo!!!!
So I called the library in another town... no luck. My options were disappearing quickly. Only one left... a bookstore in Conroe... 30 minutes away.
Luck was with me then.. but I didn't want to drive it. I was sleepy and tired.
Hunny bunny to the rescue! My sweet wife volunteered to drive (after some begging). I love my sweetie... otherwise I'd be in withdrawels by now.
Panic began to set in. But calm reasoning gave me some ideas. I had a friend with a copy. I called him.
"Sorry.. I have it.. but I loaned it to my mother."
SHIT
Wait.. the library!
"The library is closed for renovations.", said my helpful wife.
Noooooooo!!!!
So I called the library in another town... no luck. My options were disappearing quickly. Only one left... a bookstore in Conroe... 30 minutes away.
Luck was with me then.. but I didn't want to drive it. I was sleepy and tired.
Hunny bunny to the rescue! My sweet wife volunteered to drive (after some begging). I love my sweetie... otherwise I'd be in withdrawels by now.
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Culture
I'm a redneck.
I say that with all sorts of different feelings at different times. The word redneck holds many different connotations, depending on how its used and who you're talking to.
For some people its equivalent to 'White Trash', which if you ask me is about the most negative terminology we have to apply to white people. But honestly.. I think 'redneck' has a lot of positive meaning as well, and believe it or not.. it can refer to certain blacks as well as the usual white's its applied to.
Don't believe me? Well truthfully its harder to fit the image of a 'redneck' if you're black, but I've definitely met several. Imagine Red Fox with a deep southern accent and a cowboy hat. Yes I've met some folks like that.
But I digress, lets get back to the meat of the matter... 'REDNECKS'. When I call myself that a lot of well meaning people that know me in my daily life would say, "No! No way, you don't look, sound or act like one." But they're wrong.
Just because I grew up a boy wonder, intelligent, bookish, excessively well read, etc... etc.. you get the picture, just because I grew up smart and well spoken, does NOT mean I'm not a redneck. It has more to do with my upbringing I guess.
Lets refocus a bit... without a doubt, I'm a southerner, a Texan, and I'm proud of it. Growing up my family regarded 'white trash' as something BAD, but 'redneck' was more of an exaggerated form of Texan. Something that could be funny, could be silly, might be good, and/or could refer to an ignorant ass too.
Given the right environment, my accent and demeanor change quite a bit.... you'd be surprised. Anyway, even though I don't fit the general image.. I'm still proud of my family's cultural heritage.
By the way.. this picture is of a truck that inspired the topic.
I say that with all sorts of different feelings at different times. The word redneck holds many different connotations, depending on how its used and who you're talking to.
For some people its equivalent to 'White Trash', which if you ask me is about the most negative terminology we have to apply to white people. But honestly.. I think 'redneck' has a lot of positive meaning as well, and believe it or not.. it can refer to certain blacks as well as the usual white's its applied to.
Don't believe me? Well truthfully its harder to fit the image of a 'redneck' if you're black, but I've definitely met several. Imagine Red Fox with a deep southern accent and a cowboy hat. Yes I've met some folks like that.
But I digress, lets get back to the meat of the matter... 'REDNECKS'. When I call myself that a lot of well meaning people that know me in my daily life would say, "No! No way, you don't look, sound or act like one." But they're wrong.
Just because I grew up a boy wonder, intelligent, bookish, excessively well read, etc... etc.. you get the picture, just because I grew up smart and well spoken, does NOT mean I'm not a redneck. It has more to do with my upbringing I guess.
Lets refocus a bit... without a doubt, I'm a southerner, a Texan, and I'm proud of it. Growing up my family regarded 'white trash' as something BAD, but 'redneck' was more of an exaggerated form of Texan. Something that could be funny, could be silly, might be good, and/or could refer to an ignorant ass too.
Given the right environment, my accent and demeanor change quite a bit.... you'd be surprised. Anyway, even though I don't fit the general image.. I'm still proud of my family's cultural heritage.
By the way.. this picture is of a truck that inspired the topic.
Monday, February 16, 2009
Quality
Here are the two finished swords. I had some leftover red velvet from making the shield backings... so I used it to take this picture.
Aren't they lovely? Two wooden swords, made to match my two children. I posted previously about how special my own wooden sword was to me, and how I hope these are just as special to them, but I have something to add.
If you'd seen my own childhood sword you'd notice that it was well crafted, but quite a bit simpler. Whereas mine was made of two pieces of pine, lapped, rounded and sanded, these two are made of 3 pieces of oak each, lapped, glued, sanded, stained, and sealed. The hilts are handwrapped leather, and all the classic parts of a sword are easily spotted, blade, point, quillons, hilt, and pommel.
One might be given to asking, "Why put such detail, such work, into a wooden toy that two children are going to go out and beat the crap out of?" Indeed I fully expect my kids to do exactly what I did, spar with each other, with trees, with fence posts, brick walls, and any other solid object that comes to mind.
The result of all these interactions will be numerous dents, dings, scratches and eventually cracks and splits, in the wood. Something beautiful, will be degraded and destroyed over time. Regardless of the effort put in to its initial creation.
Or will it?
More specifically... will its beauty be destroyed?
I would say no. My own wooden sword is still with me, cracked, no longer servicable, but still kept. Its dings, dents, cracks and blemishes in no way detract from its beauty, or the meaning of its crafting. Rather they add to it... layers of memories, adventures and glory. When I gaze upon it.. I see the joy that went into those days, and I see the love that my father's hand imbued the wood with, simple as it was.
When I fought with my sword, in the summertime wars of my distant youth, I could feel the magic in the blade. My opponents, and my allies as well, usually had to make do with sticks, boards or any other generally sword shaped object they could find.
By comparison, my sword, made by my father's hand, stood out like Excalibur, sword of kings. No other boy had a sword like mine. With every strike, block and reposte, I could feel the strength of my father in the sword, and in my own heart. What foe could stand against us?
None.
So... when I came around to making these for my children, the more I thought about it., the more work I had to put into these swords. These are without a doubt, made to a higher standard than mine was, but not because of a need to outdo my own dad's accomplishment. Instead I made them so, because I could. Knowing how important they are to me, and maybe to them, I could not do otherwise than to put everything I had into making them the best I possibly could.
In this world our lives do not last forever. The things we make and do, likewise will all perish in the ravages of time. There is not one thing that we can point to, which will last. Yet, the most important aspect of living, is quality. We are limited on time, on how much we can do within that time. Therefore we simply must put forth our best efforts in terms of quality.
Whether eating, drinking, loving, or... making wooden swords, quality in every effort, in each moment, is the best way to make the most of our lives.
Aren't they lovely? Two wooden swords, made to match my two children. I posted previously about how special my own wooden sword was to me, and how I hope these are just as special to them, but I have something to add.
If you'd seen my own childhood sword you'd notice that it was well crafted, but quite a bit simpler. Whereas mine was made of two pieces of pine, lapped, rounded and sanded, these two are made of 3 pieces of oak each, lapped, glued, sanded, stained, and sealed. The hilts are handwrapped leather, and all the classic parts of a sword are easily spotted, blade, point, quillons, hilt, and pommel.
One might be given to asking, "Why put such detail, such work, into a wooden toy that two children are going to go out and beat the crap out of?" Indeed I fully expect my kids to do exactly what I did, spar with each other, with trees, with fence posts, brick walls, and any other solid object that comes to mind.
The result of all these interactions will be numerous dents, dings, scratches and eventually cracks and splits, in the wood. Something beautiful, will be degraded and destroyed over time. Regardless of the effort put in to its initial creation.
Or will it?
More specifically... will its beauty be destroyed?
I would say no. My own wooden sword is still with me, cracked, no longer servicable, but still kept. Its dings, dents, cracks and blemishes in no way detract from its beauty, or the meaning of its crafting. Rather they add to it... layers of memories, adventures and glory. When I gaze upon it.. I see the joy that went into those days, and I see the love that my father's hand imbued the wood with, simple as it was.
When I fought with my sword, in the summertime wars of my distant youth, I could feel the magic in the blade. My opponents, and my allies as well, usually had to make do with sticks, boards or any other generally sword shaped object they could find.
By comparison, my sword, made by my father's hand, stood out like Excalibur, sword of kings. No other boy had a sword like mine. With every strike, block and reposte, I could feel the strength of my father in the sword, and in my own heart. What foe could stand against us?
None.
So... when I came around to making these for my children, the more I thought about it., the more work I had to put into these swords. These are without a doubt, made to a higher standard than mine was, but not because of a need to outdo my own dad's accomplishment. Instead I made them so, because I could. Knowing how important they are to me, and maybe to them, I could not do otherwise than to put everything I had into making them the best I possibly could.
In this world our lives do not last forever. The things we make and do, likewise will all perish in the ravages of time. There is not one thing that we can point to, which will last. Yet, the most important aspect of living, is quality. We are limited on time, on how much we can do within that time. Therefore we simply must put forth our best efforts in terms of quality.
Whether eating, drinking, loving, or... making wooden swords, quality in every effort, in each moment, is the best way to make the most of our lives.
Sunday, February 15, 2009
We are not amused.
This is our princess. Princess Abbey. As you can see from the photo she's just been painstakingly groomed and is ready for any social function.
She's also pissed.
Perhaps I should say 'out of sorts' or 'piqued' since 'pissed' is such an unladylike word.
Princess Abbey loves a day at the salon, where she's lovingly shaped, combed, scented and painted. She also loves to run rampant like a wild gazelle when she returns home afterward. Alas that was not to be, as her mother, Queen Donna the First, had other plans.
Queen Donna's first decree after they returned to the palace was that all of her subjects should be thoroughly photographed. Princess Abbey might not be able to defy the royal decree... but she did manage to show her displeasure in this photo.
We are not amused.
She's also pissed.
Perhaps I should say 'out of sorts' or 'piqued' since 'pissed' is such an unladylike word.
Princess Abbey loves a day at the salon, where she's lovingly shaped, combed, scented and painted. She also loves to run rampant like a wild gazelle when she returns home afterward. Alas that was not to be, as her mother, Queen Donna the First, had other plans.
Queen Donna's first decree after they returned to the palace was that all of her subjects should be thoroughly photographed. Princess Abbey might not be able to defy the royal decree... but she did manage to show her displeasure in this photo.
We are not amused.
Saturday, February 14, 2009
Frenzied Youth
This little girl is deep in the throes of uncontrolled frenzy. I'm not really sure why, but I took a quick picture to document her crazed frenetic expression.
As you can see her face is contorted into a wild expression of delight. What you can't see.. is that she was also bouncing, and continued to bounce for quite some time after this picture was taken.
Reminds me of 'Tigger' from Winnie the Pooh sometimes.
As you can see her face is contorted into a wild expression of delight. What you can't see.. is that she was also bouncing, and continued to bounce for quite some time after this picture was taken.
Reminds me of 'Tigger' from Winnie the Pooh sometimes.
The Ghost of Ipswhiche!
Many years ago... back when I was given to travels into the far reaches of the world. I traveled to the lovely town of Ipswhiche, in England. While there I visited a couple of castles... admired the local scenery, the usual.
Little did I realize... that during my sojourn there I would attract the attention of a being not of our world. Since returning... I have been.. well the only word I can use is... 'haunted'. It seems that a ghost there took notice of me.. and followed me home to Texas.
In this photo I actually managed to capture the being as it manifested in my living room. As you can see its attention is firmly upon me... although I have no idea as to 'her' intentions.
Luckily 'she', who I have taken to calling Donna, for simplicity's sake, luckily she doesn't appear to have any malicious intentions. Although it does seem odd that a ghost would play chuzzle in the wee hours of the morning.
Little did I realize... that during my sojourn there I would attract the attention of a being not of our world. Since returning... I have been.. well the only word I can use is... 'haunted'. It seems that a ghost there took notice of me.. and followed me home to Texas.
In this photo I actually managed to capture the being as it manifested in my living room. As you can see its attention is firmly upon me... although I have no idea as to 'her' intentions.
Luckily 'she', who I have taken to calling Donna, for simplicity's sake, luckily she doesn't appear to have any malicious intentions. Although it does seem odd that a ghost would play chuzzle in the wee hours of the morning.
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
Days Gone By
The years fly by... but moments like this remind me of my own bygone youth. Summers that lasted forever.. and days that seemed like weeks. Each full of endless adventures.
Back then life was a story, unfolding before me. In any given day an empire could rise, fall and give birth to a new kingdom. I strode through the forest near my home as lightly as a sylvan sprite. At turns I was Robin Hood, King Arthur, or some other famous hero.
I could slip betwixt the trees with a lithe grace that was hard to believe, running in a fashion that would be foolhardy or downright dangerous now. At that time I wasn't the fastest boy in school... but I was the fastest one in the woods. Even as I hark back to those days.. my body still remembers the way of it, but it is far too heavy now. The last time I tried to run through the brambles and branches that way was near on 12 years ago, and, as I recall it exhausted my energy within a short couple of minutes.
But back in those mystic days I could run that way forever. Slipping between the trees, through briars and thorns, under brush and over logs. Leaping like a deer over low limbs and twisting in mid flight to pass through vines that were unseen until nearly too late.
Peter Pan would have been envious... and looking back... now I am too.
Farewell halcyon days.
Viva la something
This is my artsy picture for an artsy post about... something. Ok, I'm lying. I just thought the photo was a little neat. I don't actually have an artsy anything to say about it.
Actually on further reflection I'm not even sure its a good picture. Crap.
Hi my name is Michael and I'm a crappy blogger. I enjoy long walks on the beach, alcohol, boobs and my wife and kids are pretty darn cool too.
The first step... or so I'm told.. to correcting a crappy blog is admitting you have a problem. So here goes...
This post sucks.
There I said it.. I didn't really have anything good to blog... but under pressure from the powers that be I blogged anyway.. and now here we are, I'm sorry.
The second step is apologizing to your wife for making a bad blog post.
Honey, I'm sorry... I let you down. *sob*
The third step is taking off your pants... oh wait... nvm I'm already naked anyway. How'd that happen? Oh well.
Ok I lied again... I don't really know what step 3 is, in fact I've never done 12 steps of anything so I have no idea what their program entails. Except it ends up with handing your problems over to god or some bullshit like that.
Oh and I lied about being naked.
Damn I seem to be truth handicapped.
Ciao
Little Turd
This is the new dog.
She's sweet.. she's cute, she looks like a little fox. But she's really a little turd. She's a long haired chihuahua.
She's also very jealous of our other dogs. However I don't really care about that.. all I realy care about is she's shitting in our kitchen, oh and peeing too of course. That annoys the crap out of me.
Our other dogs have no problem going out the dog door and leaving shit-mines for the kids to step in OUTSIDE. But for some reason she feels that's not effective enough. Instead she leaves them in the kitchen, hoping I'll step in them no doubt.
One of our ladies at work... who also has chihuahua's told me today that they are difficult to house train. Lovely.
Monday, February 9, 2009
Dreams
When I was a little boy my father made me a wooden sword and shield.
Although he made me many things, and did a lot of different things with me... the sword was my favorite. I played with it for years. I carried it into every major battle, every campaign. It was by my side for every neighborhood war and throughout many conflicts.
It lasted longer than any other sword I owned... indeed it made it through years.. until finally it cracked upon meeting a rather large axehandle.
That day was a sad one.. I retired my sword then.. put it away before it could break the rest of the way.. and I still have it to this day. Even now when I pick it up.. I can feel the magic... hear the call of my friends, urging me to their defense.
Those days are never far from my heart.
So now.. making a couple for my own kids... I will spare no effort. To make them a couple of wooden swords which perhaps will mean as much to them. Although who can tell... every childhood is different. Some of my father's greatest labors went unappreciated by me as a child.
Most likely the things that they will cherish most about their childhood (where I'm concerned) will be things that I may not even take notice of at the time.
Oh well.... the wooden swords will still mean a lot to me.
Friday, February 6, 2009
A Little Bit of Heaven
This is one of my favorite places.
The grocery store! Not necessarily this grocery store in particular... but grocery stores in general. They sell wonderful things... magical ingredients with which to make mystical delights!
Unlike a store like Wal-mart or Target.. these stores specialize in one thing... food! So there's fewer people, fewer distractions and less chance of your family driving you crazy. Actually there are times I don't mind Wal-mart.. but they generally involve me being there alone at a slow time of day.
Anyway.. back to the stores of heavenly delights. Grocery stores are simply wonderful places. There you can find fresh food of every description, spices, meats, fish, vegetables and all sorts of odds and ends. I don't particularly like going on a weekly or bi-weekly trip to the grocery store. I like to go on small daily trips.
That way you get only what you need.. that day! You don't buy things you don't need.. thinking you're going to use them 'next' week. You get only what you're actually going to use for dinner today, or tomorrow.
I think it saves money.. enables you to use fresher food and plan a meal with more variety.
Of course.. all of this is predicated on the assumption that you like to cook. Luckily I do. Maybe I'll talk about that in a later blog.
Thursday, February 5, 2009
I'm not a member of any organized faiths as such. However I do have one important religious article, sacrament, ritual.. etc. BEER.
Beer is more than a beverage, its a state of mind, a state of grace.
It can be a common bond between strangers who have nothing else in common. It provides solace to the broken hearted, relief to the weary, and joy to the young.
Truly it is a wonderful liquid... honestly if you ask me it beats milk all to hell, strong bones and teeth aside. If you don't believe me.. have one.
If you still don't believe me have another.
If that doesn't work three is sure to help.
Repeat until you just don't give a damn... NOW you understand.
As a famous zen poet once said, "Beer drinks itself."
Hands
Such useful things... hands. Its really amazing what you can do with them. In fact.. virtually every thing we do, is done with these incredible tools.
Through them we express our desires for the world. They make true the thoughts in our minds, bringing ideas to light in the physical world. With them our dreams become reality, whether as a sketch upon paper, or as a building, car, or even a garden.
Imagine what you could do without your hands? It wouldn't be easy... probably easier if you just imagined some new hands and started from there.
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
Hospital
Hospitals often have such lovely views.
I actually didn't take this picture.. my sweet Donna did. I was a bit preoccupied thinking about my Dad. It looks like he's going to be receiving dialysis for a while. Possibly for good.
There's no magic cure for ailing kidneys... short of a transplant.
I'd like to get my hands on the idiot that did this to him.
I actually didn't take this picture.. my sweet Donna did. I was a bit preoccupied thinking about my Dad. It looks like he's going to be receiving dialysis for a while. Possibly for good.
There's no magic cure for ailing kidneys... short of a transplant.
I'd like to get my hands on the idiot that did this to him.
Sunday, February 1, 2009
Camera Girl Commits Drive-by Shooting!
Last night something exceptional happened.
A woman.. who might otherwise be my wife... drove by and shot me (with her camera). I had realized before that I was incredibly sexy.. but this femme fatale obviously couldn't resist getting a candid shot of me as she drove by.
Luckily I had my camera at hand and I was able to take this defensive snap shot to help me identify the culprit.
Indeed once the image was analyzed and examined it turned out that it really WAS my wife with the camera! Yes, you heard me right.. my sweet Donna was guilty of driving by and shooting me anonymously with her camera.
I had known her to do things like this to others, dogs, flowers, random people, but not her own family! In such a blase and cold blooded fashion. But there we have it.. the evidence is clear... it was her!
I am blogging this now to get it out there.. so that others can see the truth before she comes for them as well.
A woman.. who might otherwise be my wife... drove by and shot me (with her camera). I had realized before that I was incredibly sexy.. but this femme fatale obviously couldn't resist getting a candid shot of me as she drove by.
Luckily I had my camera at hand and I was able to take this defensive snap shot to help me identify the culprit.
Indeed once the image was analyzed and examined it turned out that it really WAS my wife with the camera! Yes, you heard me right.. my sweet Donna was guilty of driving by and shooting me anonymously with her camera.
I had known her to do things like this to others, dogs, flowers, random people, but not her own family! In such a blase and cold blooded fashion. But there we have it.. the evidence is clear... it was her!
I am blogging this now to get it out there.. so that others can see the truth before she comes for them as well.
Angry man is Angry!
I feel like this sometimes.
Luckily here I was just taking a scary picture in the dark. But sometimes I feel like this looks. Not often.. but now and then. Thus far I've managed to keep a firm handle on it... so the police haven't had to come get me yet.
I think all men have a violent streak in them.. women too probably, but they seem to release their negative emotions in different ways. For the most part my darker side is short lived and quickly dissipates. Women on the other hand seem to leak their negativity in a sort of poisonous emotional pollution.
I dunno.. either way it can seriously put a downer on an otherwise beautiful day. I realize that we can't have positive emotions without also having their opposite.. but sometimes I really wish we could.
At their base, I think fear, anger, and hate are meant to motivate and empower us to protect our families, or avoid things that might hurt us. But in the light of day.. such emotions can be downright scary.
RAWR!
Luckily here I was just taking a scary picture in the dark. But sometimes I feel like this looks. Not often.. but now and then. Thus far I've managed to keep a firm handle on it... so the police haven't had to come get me yet.
I think all men have a violent streak in them.. women too probably, but they seem to release their negative emotions in different ways. For the most part my darker side is short lived and quickly dissipates. Women on the other hand seem to leak their negativity in a sort of poisonous emotional pollution.
I dunno.. either way it can seriously put a downer on an otherwise beautiful day. I realize that we can't have positive emotions without also having their opposite.. but sometimes I really wish we could.
At their base, I think fear, anger, and hate are meant to motivate and empower us to protect our families, or avoid things that might hurt us. But in the light of day.. such emotions can be downright scary.
RAWR!
Margeritas!
This is my favorite restaurant.
Its kind of hard to make out the details... we were driving by it at 70 mph and I was using the camera on long exposure with no flash. But the food sort of tastes like this picture.. so I thought it was appropriate.
Lately the management has been screwing around with the kitchen and the waitstaff.. so I don't know how long it will be our favorite restaurant. Although old habits are hard to break.. we've been eating there for almost 20 years now.
Oh well.. there are some other great places in town now.. so I might just spend more time at Cinco's and less at Margeritas. Either way.. Donna loves mexican food.. so I know I'll be eating at one of them.
Its kind of hard to make out the details... we were driving by it at 70 mph and I was using the camera on long exposure with no flash. But the food sort of tastes like this picture.. so I thought it was appropriate.
Lately the management has been screwing around with the kitchen and the waitstaff.. so I don't know how long it will be our favorite restaurant. Although old habits are hard to break.. we've been eating there for almost 20 years now.
Oh well.. there are some other great places in town now.. so I might just spend more time at Cinco's and less at Margeritas. Either way.. Donna loves mexican food.. so I know I'll be eating at one of them.
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