« "If you don't have an air compressor go buy one. Really." | Main | "New Digs" »

June 21, 2005



So far it has been one of those odd and hectic weeks you just wish wouldnít go so quick. Changes are coming so donít be stunned when you see them. Hopefully theyíll capture the spirit of what I intend here. Suggestions are still welcome.

My first Fatherís day was excellent. Sweet cards from Jack and Fabulous Babe that were keepers. Fabulous Babe even mowed the lawn. (Call me a chauvinist but I still think husbands should be the ones to mow the lawn.) I still got to weed whack though.

Fatherís day presents? Fabulous Babe gave me a gift certificate to get the Tribute detailed to the nth degree. It got dirty on the way out here three years ago and despite the regular cleanings it really needed a good scrubbing by professionals. I dropped it off Sunday afternoon and by Monday night it was like I had a new car again. Itís so clean I feel bad just driving it.

Weíre in a holding pattern in regards to the other present. Itís a bicycle that I have wanted for over 5 years. Iím going to look at one this weekend and literally kick the tires. Iíll post more after the fact.

Itís been a long week of emails with some former industry people. I had a nice exchange of emails with Gary Gygax who is unable to attend David Sutherlandís funeral. Gary had a stroke a little while ago and he now rarely travels. (Heís making a single appearance this year at a convention in Toronto.) A similar situation with Tom Wham who passed along the funeral details to some of the other former TSR staff in Wisconsin who used to work with him.

I forgot to mention that the weekend included a nice trip to the gallery showcasing the work of Shag this week. Iíve loved his style for years and the omnipresent tikis arenít the only reason. They had a gorgeous original I coveted but $6000 is about 10 times what I could pay. Oh well.

Our living room is now a containment vessel for the rampaging substance known as Jack. Objects have now been placed in a semi-circle to restrict his movement or ability to damage his precious noggin. It seems to be working out fine until tonight when Jack was standing in front of the television and plopped down on his butt. No tears but the load in his diaper shot up the back, bounced off his shirt and then came down his shorts on the outside. *sigh* Amazingly I only had to cut a small portion of the carpet out to place in the lead lined vessel where weíll bury it next to a time capsule from 1888. Our gift to the future.

Minnesota Public Radio has started their great ďWeíll die without your money, honest!Ē drive here locally and Iím certain itís begging time where you are. (Itís a new season.) As personal broadcasting becomes easier and easier I wonder what public radio and television will become as equipment enables higher quality that is close to current production standards. I have two documentary ideas in my own mind that would lend themselves to either the more traditional route a la a book or something interactive on the web.

Driving home the other night I noticed a gaggle of teenage boys standing in the street in front of the house where a couple of young teenage girls live. (Funny that.) As I drove up a few of the teens, the ones with, I kid you not, ball caps at odd angles on their heads and low rider pants, some of them didnít move out of the way. Instead, in that manner that only comes when youíre trying to impress teenage girls, a few stood there while not looking at my car as it drove up, forcing me to try to needle my way through the narrow gap between them and their pimped out rides. Itís good to know that someone, somewhere, raised children who are determined to become speed bumps. Despite a temptation to lay on the horn I just drove through.

Kids that insolent always get what they have coming to them. Someone that I grew up with was a sadistic monster from grade school all the way through high school. He was the sort that as a 6th grader used to kick younger boys, 3rd graders, in the testicles because he liked to see them cry. In middle school he made a regular practice of dropping books on kidís heads from balconies because the first time he did it the victim ended up with a concussion. In high school he actually drove a car through the front wall of a home during a party for a laugh.

Just reward: Crushed to death under a tractor he was horsing around on as an adult. If anything was going to convince me of karmic payback that might just do it.

Sorry for the lack of quality material. Busy times...

Posted by Jim at June 21, 2005 11:25 PM

Trackback Pings

TrackBack URL for this entry:


Post a comment

Remember Me?