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Outside. I’ve been blogging a little over two years now. (This is not a “going to put the blog on hold” message. By the time I got my lazy butt worked up to do it, I’d have chaned my mind.) Over the last two years, I’ve learned that my ability to be distracted with bright,

Gods. Recipe for a god: *1 or more locus or domain (god of the west river, god of dreams) *1 or more miracle or power *1 or more omen or portents (omens inform your followers that you’re going to do something, portents inform your followers that you want something) *1 or more sacrifices or sacred

Rule 2. Rule #2 of Storytelling (still in pondering status): The main character is the theme of the show. (Captain/Title character/Chosen One/Barkeeper etc.) Examples: (Keep in mind that I don’t watch a lot of TV anymore; it’s mostly limited to Joss Whedon and the Cartoon Network to be truthful) Mal Reynolds is the captain; everything

Hellboy We saw Hellboy last week. I liked it. There were plot flaws, but nothing so big that I was cheesed off. I was first delighted when I heard them start playing Tom Waits. I forget which song it was…something off Heart Attack and Vine? But then I laughed with glee: You’re one microscopic cog

Book Review. The English Patient by Michael Ondaatje I haven’t seen the movie. This is a “well-written” book. The language is poetic. The characters develop as characters. There are flashbacks. The ending is sad and poetic. The emotional intensity I should have felt–lovers leave each other, some of them die, bombs blow up Hiroshima–I didn’t.

Birthday. Last week. Sucked. Don’t ask.

Tooth news. Lee went to the dentist yesterday; he did have to get the tooth extracted. He went to the oral surgeon (Maxiliofacial Associates, near Colorado College–he recommends them highly), and everything went well. Much less pain now, and all our shoulders relax just a little.

Romance. Slow-dancing to a not-so-slow dancing song while your daughter runs around in a circle, screeching. Dancing! Dancing!

Milestone. Today was Ray’s first big apology. She smashed a dozen eggs into the carpet of her bedroom. For not the first time. She and I picked up eggshells (by hand, becuause she can’t vaccuum) and sopped up the goo. Then she apologized to Daddy, because it was driving him nuts. “Sorry eggs. Broken eggs.

Beatitudes. Ever wonder if the Beatitudes of the Bible are kind of like Chinese curses? “Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they shall be satisfied.” “Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God.” Be careful what you wish for…