
Happy Anniversary
Well, today is our Happy Anniversary. Twenty-seven years, three kids, four cars, two cats and one motorcycle later, we're still one big, happy family -- for the most part.

Alien vs My Back Yard
I got up early this morning to do some much-needed yardwork.
It was 77 degrees already at 6, and I knew it wasn't going to get any cooler.
I clipped, and mowed, and weed-ate, and sweated.
Drank some water. Always good to stay hydrated.
I clipped, and mowed, and weed-ate, and sweated some more, and then out of the corner of my eye I saw THIS:

Four inches of what had to be an Alien Monster fetus.
I'm no Sigourney Weaver.
I hightailed it out of there and I have no idea when I'm going back outside again.
If ever.
It was 77 degrees already at 6, and I knew it wasn't going to get any cooler.
I clipped, and mowed, and weed-ate, and sweated.
Drank some water. Always good to stay hydrated.
I clipped, and mowed, and weed-ate, and sweated some more, and then out of the corner of my eye I saw THIS:

Four inches of what had to be an Alien Monster fetus.
I'm no Sigourney Weaver.
I hightailed it out of there and I have no idea when I'm going back outside again.
If ever.
The not-so-great Outdoors
WIFE: There's just too much outside, outside. I would enjoy being outside more if it were more like being inside.
ME: So I guess that means we're never moving to Alaska?
WIFE: Were we ever?
ME: Well, it was a dream of mine. One day pack up all our cares and woes, and go to the Great White North in search of nature, solitude and killer snow skiing.
WIFE: But you don't know HOW to ski.
ME: I could learn.
WIFE: And ski right into a tree, leaving me an old widow up there in the wilderness with nothing but the clothes on my back and your mukluks? I don't think so, buster.
ME: Well, at least you wouldn't have to deal with my snoring anymore.
WIFE: Hmmmm. I hear Alaska is beautiful this time of year.
ME: I'll pack the bags.
(Based upon an actual conversation between me and my better half, which did include talk of the outdoors, allergies, and Alaska. Death and snoring were never mentioned, at least not in THAT conversation.)
ME: So I guess that means we're never moving to Alaska?
WIFE: Were we ever?
ME: Well, it was a dream of mine. One day pack up all our cares and woes, and go to the Great White North in search of nature, solitude and killer snow skiing.
WIFE: But you don't know HOW to ski.
ME: I could learn.
WIFE: And ski right into a tree, leaving me an old widow up there in the wilderness with nothing but the clothes on my back and your mukluks? I don't think so, buster.
ME: Well, at least you wouldn't have to deal with my snoring anymore.
WIFE: Hmmmm. I hear Alaska is beautiful this time of year.
ME: I'll pack the bags.
(Based upon an actual conversation between me and my better half, which did include talk of the outdoors, allergies, and Alaska. Death and snoring were never mentioned, at least not in THAT conversation.)
Peace and Trumpets
On the fence
Shooting the bird
I think in my next life I'll come back as a wildlife photographer.
That is, if I get a second chance.

Here's a link to my Critter slideshow on Flickr.
If you don't like critters, here's a creepy bird photo.
That is, if I get a second chance.

Here's a link to my Critter slideshow on Flickr.
If you don't like critters, here's a creepy bird photo.

Taking out the Trash
Every Wednesday morning I take the trash out to the street.
Roll the smelly black bags down my dirt driveway in a green dumpster to sit by the grey ashpalt and wait to be taken by men in a white garbage truck.
I pull the dumpster over rocks, around rain-formed channels, past potholes and ant hills and small animal tracks in the sand.
The same chore, the same route, the same way, and leave it all by the road in exactly the same spot as last week.
Every Wednesday morning.
Without fail.
And nothing ever changes.
Nothing.
Ever.
Changes.
Except for today.
Today I looked beyond the routine, and found marvels.
Roll the smelly black bags down my dirt driveway in a green dumpster to sit by the grey ashpalt and wait to be taken by men in a white garbage truck.
I pull the dumpster over rocks, around rain-formed channels, past potholes and ant hills and small animal tracks in the sand.
The same chore, the same route, the same way, and leave it all by the road in exactly the same spot as last week.
Every Wednesday morning.
Without fail.
And nothing ever changes.
Nothing.
Ever.
Changes.
Except for today.
Today I looked beyond the routine, and found marvels.

The Venus Transit Across the Sun
Spare Change
Okay, let me be a little more specific about "change."
MY change.
(And I'm not talking about a sex change! How dare you even think it!)
For the past 20 years I've been a band director.
Start beginners, hope they make it to junior high, prepare for contest, Monday-night rehearsals, Friday night football games, solo and ensemble competition, concert and sightreading competition, Christmas concert, Spring concert, homecoming parade, Christmas parade, band fundraiser, band trip, and hope they sign up again for next year.
After so many years, the routine grinds along on automatic.
New faces come, old faces go, but the road is never ending with nary a speedbump or offramp in sight.
Well, I hit a speedbump. I took an offramp. And now I'm heading in a different direction.
My school is allowing me to start a new music program.
Mariachi.
Not only that, but I'll be the new choir director this coming fall.
Okay, I'm still in music, so the change isn't that grande, but in a way, it is.
It's a new opportunity for me to stretch my wings and travel well beyond my comfort zone.
And whenever you're offered a chance to stretch and travel, it's best to take advantage of it.
Change is on the horizon and it looks like I'll have plenty to spare.
MY change.
(And I'm not talking about a sex change! How dare you even think it!)
For the past 20 years I've been a band director.
Start beginners, hope they make it to junior high, prepare for contest, Monday-night rehearsals, Friday night football games, solo and ensemble competition, concert and sightreading competition, Christmas concert, Spring concert, homecoming parade, Christmas parade, band fundraiser, band trip, and hope they sign up again for next year.
After so many years, the routine grinds along on automatic.
New faces come, old faces go, but the road is never ending with nary a speedbump or offramp in sight.
Well, I hit a speedbump. I took an offramp. And now I'm heading in a different direction.
My school is allowing me to start a new music program.
Mariachi.
Not only that, but I'll be the new choir director this coming fall.
Okay, I'm still in music, so the change isn't that grande, but in a way, it is.
It's a new opportunity for me to stretch my wings and travel well beyond my comfort zone.
And whenever you're offered a chance to stretch and travel, it's best to take advantage of it.
Change is on the horizon and it looks like I'll have plenty to spare.
Welcome
This is my new site. The old one just got too dusty and I needed a change.
Change is good.
Dust is bad.
But change can be scary. To yourself as well as others.
You don't really know how the change will affect your life. Will this be a good move, or bad?
Friends and coworkers don't understand why you NEED to change. They might feel threatened. Betrayed.
Loved ones are scared you've gone bonkers.
At times you think maybe you HAVE gone bonkers. What was I thinking? I had a routine. Security. A corner office.
But with change comes new opportunities. New goals. New dreams.
You can once again feel your heart beat in anticipation of a new day. You feel alive again.
Being alive is good!
# # #
This is one of the first cartoons I drew when I started drawing again. It has some heavy cosmetic Photoshop surgery.

I have some early cartoons without facelifts or liposuction. I'll show them to you later.
Change is good.
Dust is bad.
But change can be scary. To yourself as well as others.
You don't really know how the change will affect your life. Will this be a good move, or bad?
Friends and coworkers don't understand why you NEED to change. They might feel threatened. Betrayed.
Loved ones are scared you've gone bonkers.
At times you think maybe you HAVE gone bonkers. What was I thinking? I had a routine. Security. A corner office.
But with change comes new opportunities. New goals. New dreams.
You can once again feel your heart beat in anticipation of a new day. You feel alive again.
Being alive is good!
# # #
This is one of the first cartoons I drew when I started drawing again. It has some heavy cosmetic Photoshop surgery.

I have some early cartoons without facelifts or liposuction. I'll show them to you later.
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