Blah blah blah

This week's attack of the tse-tse fly notwithstanding- I've slept in more days than not the past five, missing Andy Griffith in the early AM -it's awfully quiet at the ranch.

The current neverending carpet company postcard assignment has become- with input from numerous sources known only to my employer -a mish-mash of humdrum elements hanging incongruously in the middle of plain jane textual blurbs but, hey, they seem to like it nonetheless. And they've said that they like the fact that I work cheaply. At least I know I'm not pricing myself out of business before I get a proper start!

Toymaking has slowed somewhat, SOP for summertime when everybody is spending their fun money elsewhere and right after Xmas when they've spent all their fun money, period. Finishing up some longstanding orders and thinking deep thoughts about how to bring off other playthings-in-waiting. Fun stuff. Maybe when one or two of these are behind me I can get back to some nearly finished characters and ready them for entry in the Great York InterState Fair come September. I promised the little old ladies who judged the art entries- they loved the early Cartwright and Batman figures -I'd have more to show them, that's been a few years back already.

Got a handful of mail items to run out and deliver today to the fine folks at the US postal  service. I get little white card collector boxes from several local antique venues for mailing my teensy items so I'll be making a stop at one or the other to stock up on boxes first. I rarely find anything else of particular interest for my collecting self in the antique stores these days but it's still great fun browsing the musty dusty stuff of generations gone by.

Hey, I think Norah Jones was skipping there, dit, dit, dit, dit, dit, dit. S'all right now.

Speaking of musica, the youngsters at the toy store, appreciably impressed by my humble toymaking efforts- several of them customize their own superhero and wrestling figures -also enjoy my 'old school' musical selections. Loudness, a Japanese 80s metal band, and Motorhead in particular. I'm reliably informed I must 'still have some fire' if I can still listen to Motorhead. We'll see if that impression holds water when I roll out the Roy Orbison and Doc Watson. Hahaha. I'll show those whippersnappers what real music is all about, by gum!

A little Boggle, a little Google, browsing eBay for fun gewgaws I can't afford and/or don't need rounds out the nights and days. Speaking of Google, I searched up a fellow I knew at college, a right talented guitarist(showed me my first real guitar lick, the intro to Heart's Barracuda) and draftsman(we traded lithographs at one point, my dragon v. guitarist for a nice miniature of a fairy tale castle amid misty mountains, I don't know if I still have it socked away somewhere or not) who's making his living at both music and art in and around Lancaster these days. Very cool. Here's his website: J. Stephen Davis Music I dropped him a note to say, 'Hey', have to make the scene at one of his upcoming coffehouse appearances.

And so it goes...

Hullo

What's on my mind today, you ask? Well, earlier as I chopped onions and potatoes and broke eggs for breakfast I was thinking about a good nickname for the cat who nobody ever calls by her 'given' name, Cocoa, anymore.

Except my mother-in-law who calls and talks to her when nobody's home. It's comical because that cat is payng no more mind to her voice on the answering machine than the front door or the refrigerator...

Usually it's 'Pussis' or 'Pussalump' or 'Fuzzy Lumpus' or 'Beat it, you!'

Ferris Mewl-er. Because she mewls around like true love, rubbing up against and swirling underfoot, when there's food being prepared whereas any other time you might try to get her attention you might as well be calling the front door or the refrigerator.

Mom says thats the way with female cats and boy cats are much more affectionate and desirous of your attention. Now she tells me...

I'm just of the opinion that a creature that depends on you for everything but the air it breathes might deign to show a glimmer of casual interest if not outright gratitude and/or feigned affection once in a while.

At least something other than baleful or cautious observation from afar and scurrying away leaving puffy tribbles of loose fur drifting on the wind in their wake at the slightest step in their direction. Sheesh!

Doldrums

What's the origin of that word, I wonder? Is that a meteorological term? I don't know but it's bandied about in the summertime more often than not, I think. And even though the weather has been decidedly un-summerish- very temperate, 70s and breezy, beautiful stuff, thank you very much! -it might as well be doggedly hot and overbearing for the lack of exciting goings-on to report.

But, hey, sometimes that's a good thing. At least nobody's breaking bones or crashing cars.

There is the forcible relocation of my online photo archives from Yahoo! to PhotoBucket. Unscheduled and unexpected but thus far uneventful. Updated the photo album links at left so once I get everything squared away at the websites it should prove pretty much seamless. I hope.

Plenty of toy news with the arrival of my first professional looking boxes for the Bonanza men. Fun stuff! Naturally, it makes me wanna supply the same kind of cardboard homes for my other little men. So they don't feel underappreciated or left out.

In addition to regular face time with my erstwhile and present toy store workmate, Big Don, I got a few minutes with another former workplace pal, Patoo, as well as 'original Pat' this week. Fellow toy geeks every one so we were able to hash over some doll and comic news and generally inconsequential topics of that sort.

Son boy spending the week with his car crazy pal whose Dad and I joked that he should just be adopted, he spends so much time there. I'm glad he's taken an interest in what goes on under the hood- I can check vital fluids and that's about it... -but it's weird when he's gone for a stretch like this. Plus I have to take out the trash and cut the grass myself. And field all his calls.

That's not true, I rarely answer the phone. I have a real aversion to phone conversation of late. I'd rather be kicked in the shin than answer the ringing appliance. If I can use the speaker I don't mind half so much but some people are funny about broadcasting like that. Where do those quirks come from? Same place as chocolate vs. vanilla, I suppose. To-may-toe, to-mah-toe.

Stopped in the other day on mother dear just in time to find her starting to set up her new dog kennel all by herself. So the wife and I lent a hand at that and it's standing upright if not in place all permanent and solid like. Needs a good sized post and some hardware to finish up, mostly due to the uneven ground where it stands.

Reminded by an old friend of my mother of the old homestead where I was a boy. She remembered me in a crib there though more likely it was my brother given the time frame she specified. Either way it made me think of the place, nothing left now but some foundation stones, and some of the pleasantries recalled from that era. Plums in a jar with sugary syrup. Dried apples. Frosty cold Cokes from a floor cabinet filled with ice. The smell of the wood cabinets and damp cellar environs of the store my great grandmother and maiden aunt kept. The array of candies and confections in the glass front cases.

Boy, I'm making myself hungry...