Well… let’s see. Everything is kinda going sideways.
So here’s the deal. The script called for “An angry crowd outside a typical Churchian house.” New scene, new architecture, normally this is in the category of “pain in the artichoke” but we wrote it while driving to Portland from Seattle on Sunday, and then back again.
It turns out my father has “aggressive cancerous tumors” in his brain. Due to other health complications there’s no treatment. He isn’t expected to last through next week. Covid adds stupid restrictions. He was diagnosed a month ago. Figured we’d have more time.
The comic will be out Saturday morning but we’re almost certainly going to be calling a hiatus at some point. We’re planning a trip to the hellscape that is California over Thanksgiving. I’m not entirely sure that will happen… but maybe?
Meanwhile, if you are the praying type, then pray for my mom, who could really use some extra oomph right now. Pray for me, because I will probably be asked to say words at the funeral. My father and I were very different people; it won’t be… straightforward.
Not that I “do words”. Ask Codex. I normally communicate in 4-bit symbols using 3 tines and my handle. The funeral is gonna be a hoot.
–> Quizzer
Tempest in a Teardrop: The Churchians 
I am sorry to hear about your father. No that such news is ever easy, but this year it seems especially hard. I will keep you and your family in my prayers.
If y’all need to put tings on hold, then do what needs must be done. We’ll still be here. (and unlike Sarah’s place, I don’t think we’ll do any redecorating. Can’t think that a moat would look good anyway.)
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Thank you. Redecorating would be okay; make sure it’s fungi-shui though, huh?
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Wish there was a LOVE to click.
Praying for you guys!
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Thanks, Jagi.
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Got you on my prayer list. This is never easy; words failed me at Mom’s funeral Mass, because I was exhausted by her final illness and visits, preparations, etc.
Take the time you need; we’ll be around somewhere, and will come back. God save and keep you.
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Thank you. It’s kind of weird. My Dad’s health problems were pretty severe but manageable. But then the brain cancer came out of the blue, so it was expected, but not. I’m telling the story about when he smacked me in the back of the head with a loaf of bread because I backtalked to my mom when I was in my late teens, though. The bag burst. Bread went flying all over the kitchen.
I knew if I laughed I was dead… but somehow I lived…
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I’m so sorry to hear about your father. Take the time you need because your family and your health and sanity are more important.
God will be with you.
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Thank you. The hiatus isn’t going to be by our choice, but it is what it is.
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We’re here for you. Well, metaphorically, at least.
Write a script. Follow the script. With hand (tine?) puppets if necessary.
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We carried our church Sunday School from March thru June this year via recorded puppet scripts. They might have suspected we were wrongthinkers since we kept using gendered language and kept emphasizing things like “consequences” and “responsibility”. We even, repeatedly, emphasized sin and repentance.
Kinda over puppets for now. It was a *lot* of work. No regrets.
Thank you though. Hmmm. Maybe I’ll give the eulogy with hand puppets, and then communicate at Thanksgiving with them too? My relatives are in California on those new reservations – gated communities, I think they call them – but they’re all thoroughly in the camp of… not-Trump.
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My prayers are with you all. The Mrs.’ father just passed, and the oldest of us all were asked by The Mrs.’ mom to say a few words. The rest of the family is still talking to me, so I guess it went okay.
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