Remembering our ordinary heroes from before our nation was conquered.
You who live in what is left of America: Hold the line. We who live in the occupied territories: Never forget.
Every American family had these men in their lives: Brother, father, uncle, son.
Ours was an ordinary American boy who left home, lied about his age and joined the Navy. Rising through the enlisted ranks, his XO took the young man under his wing and tutored him for an officer candidate. Unfortunately, a lovely Cuban lady, some time A.W.O.L. and a nearly-missed boat put paid to that opportunity. As late as his 80s, finishing off our second bottle of wine, he admitted he still couldn’t decide whether or not the seniorita was worth it.
He served aboard the U.S.S. Mississippi and was honored for his courage in repairing her battle-wounds under heavy bombardments and kamikaze attack.He was a pattern-maker: If you’re ever visiting Pacific Grove, California, stop by the justly famous Monterey Bay Aquariaum. That lovely brasswork? He made it. Uncle Sam taught him the skills, refined them under fire, and he made of them a gift for future generations. He was the best grandfather a girl could have, even if he was my great-uncle.
For you and all the other veterans who have served our country, and placed your lives between “your loved home and the war’s desolation”… For all the grandfathers and brothers and sons who didn’t come back. We’ll remember you, from this day to the ending of the age.
Glyph graduated last weekend. I got to make a speech. It was short. It had an audience of one. I’ll repeat it here.
No, you won’t understand. Neither did anyone else, except for Codex.
Me (into microphone): “Glyph? Shakababa.”
She howled in laughter. Mission Accomplished.
Her class (all 4 of them) made a video and in the video they were invited to go on a great adventure called an Odyssey, named after the sole survivor. The acting was horrible and hilarious, a powerful combination. That’s where we’re at now. It’s been an Odyssey.
We’re still standing, though. Except for me, who is mostly sitting due to an aching back. And Codex who fell down some steps and sprained her ankle on Monday. She is also mostly sitting. I keep threatening her and gifting Ibuprofen. It means we have to name our current adventure after Glyph.
That’s gonna be a challenge because I spent all my brain cells on home repairs. Suggestions very welcome in the comments.
The house went up for sale on Friday and sold yesterday. Insane. We ended up getting our full asking price. We had two bidders in the end, probably could have gotten a little more, certainly wanted to list it for more, but in the end we did what we felt was the right thing.
I keep hearing “No Good Deed Goes Unpunished” echoing in the back yard but I think we’ll be okay. Inspection is tomorrow. Septic pumping/inspection is next Thursday. They walk away after that and it’ll cost ’em plenty. They won’t.
I can’t give details but… they won’t.
We’re hiding a note somewhere in the house. “This space dedicated to the Great Hamster Escape of 2012. God Bless. [Our last name]. Original owners. [Year] – 2022. Someone will find it one day. Maybe it will be the new owners.
We love this place but it’s time to move on, for a variety of reasons.
And now, finally, we can get back to comicing! Not sure when it will be. And if you are the praying type, then, well, you know what to do. We can still use them.
–> Codex & Q
It’s been a couple of weeks and I now wake up at 3:30am and think about posting something. Then I realize how many chores are still left on the house, drink an excessive amount of coffee, and continue the slog.
I miss posting. I’m super-happy to say I’ve always been grateful we can in terms of our talent, time, and energy. Soon. Relatively soon. I’m looking forward to it. Quips on social media or the occasional live podcast are nice warm-up exercises, but they don’t replace the real thing.
Maybe I know what real authors feel. Maybe.
The POD arrived today. The delivery was impressive. I’m not sure how our entire house will fit in an 8′ x 8′ x 16′ space, but I suppose once we remove the air the walls and floors will collapse and with a couple of prying bars we can wedge in the “end bits”. Like a sleeping bag. Or a recalcitrant turkey.
Also, ‘haboob’ is a word. Spell check doesn’t recognize it, but then neither did I. It’s now in the vault of “funny” words like “Walla Walla”, “Discombobulated”, and “Green Energy”.
For the record: a ‘haboob’ is a dust storm ginned up by desert winds in the more inhospitable places on the planet such as Sacramento. In this case the storm took place in Minnesota, which is also in the ‘Funny Words’ vault.
I’m mostly still alive and just barely able to write checks. My hands work fine, the pen works fine, and even the pages of the book are okay. It’s the spirit in my bank account that weeps every time we give money away. “That’s a part of my soul!” it wails. “How many Horcruxes must I divide myself into to satisfy your wanton monetary needs?!”
“Just one more,” I reply.
“I’m not the Fed!” it yells back.
Then we go to therapy with our pastor. He doesn’t charge.
Our realtor does though. We’ve know her for more than two decades. She helped us buy the house way back when. But she put her foot down. A firm stiletto heel directly to my liver. “The House Will Go Up Thursday Morning!” My pain is about to end. And begin. We have a POD to pack. And many, many chores to finish.
In the meantime: ‘Haboob’ is funny. ‘Haboobs’ is hilarious.
Hearts to heav’n and voices raise;
sing to God a hymn of gladness,
sing to God a hymn of praise:
He who on the cross a victim
for the world’s salvation bled—
Jesus Christ, the King of Glory,
now is risen from the dead.
Alleluia, Christ is risen!
Death at last has met defeat:
see the ancient pow’rs of evil
in confusion and retreat;
once He died, and once was buried:
now He lives forevermore,
Jesus Christ, the world’s Redeemer,
whom we worship and adore.
Happy Easter, everyone!
But, things have continued apace. Much to my amazement, the landscaping is down to “manageable” in what we have left to do. The heavy lifting (20 yards of bark-dust) is up to the landscapers. It’s just money at this point. Our realtor will love it. We hope. We’re on acreage so we have to make about 2 (of seven) look like civilized people could live here.
We’ve been faking it for fifteen+ years. Having kids will do that.
Goodwill and the local women’s shelter love us. That’s important.
It’s snowing outside on April 14. It snowed yesterday too. It never snows this late. The TeeVee will blame global warming but we all know it’s Putin’s fault. He probably didn’t burn enough mammoth fat after digging it up for spite in Siberia. We told the grass shoots; they agreed not to die and we agreed not to mow them prematurely.
Our paint collection needed to be trimmed, so I found two huge sheets of cardboard, poured old, drunk paint onto them, and let ’em all out to dry. Don’t worry. The paint drank because it could legally buy the alcohol. Some of the cans dried out years ago because they secretly attended AA meetings and their lids were never properly hammered. Back on, I mean.
Packing… is a process. Apparently my strategy of “Here. It’s a box. Fill it.” isn’t good enough. We have to organize, coalesce, combine, sort, and put everything into a ‘hierarchy’. I blame the approximately 1000 hours of DEI training Codex has attended in the last 12 months. All the boxes need to be equal or we’ll suffer even more intolerable YouTube adds.
Speaking of Codex: she is job hunting. We have several leads, so we’re praying that we’ll be led someplace besides here. Did you know both Redfin and Zillow will let you scroll across the map and will automagically fill in real estate needs according to your whims? Amazing! Both Blade Runner and Robocop were terrible at prophesying the future. I’m still a firm believer in Mad Max. The second movie, not the first. We’re welding propane tanks to our bumpers in prep.
Dramatic explosions don’t make themselves, people.
Now, someone type something pithy in the comments explaining to our dogs how two weeks of “Dog Camp” is awesome and they want to go on doggy vacation because otherwise… we’re looking at 30k+ of rental hell. There are no rentals, and what there are want a twelve-month lease at prices higher than our mortgage and approximately $2300 per dog. We. Live. In. Freaking. Insanity.
We’ll get through it.
I didn’t want to do this but the comic has to officially go on hiatus. We have less than a month before we need to get the house on the market – something, something, money, roofer, wheezing. It’s hard to make out through the sobs of the checkbook.
But: Good Things are happening. Codex is looking for a new job and on a whim she checked a website and her Dream Job just opened up. She spent most of the day frantically applying. It will keep us in Washington but we’ll definitely be away from the blue hive that keeps creeping outward every month.
Also: We’ll be able to put the house on the market for much more than we originally thought when this all started around Thanksgiving. We’re shooting for May 1. It’ll be May 1, whether we’re ready or not. It might be sooner. Does anyone know of a bridge that isn’t already occupied? Does it take 75lb dogs? Maybe someplace that sells used yurts?
Finally: I’m really, really close to my “Ten Commandments for Churchians” to go live. I’m challenging myself to do three posts per week, and I’d really appreciate feedback. For those of you who blog or social media: mention them, blast them, whatever. I’m no expert, just hypothesizing. They need to be written, discussed, and refined. It’s in the same category as the SSH in my not so humble opinion.
I’ve been working on them off-and-on since the comic started because it’s important to make fun of Churchians in the right way. Rory is almost there, after all.
The First Commandment of Churchians is going to be Friday. Tomorrow I’ll have some humor, because there are a lot of odd ways people are making bank and I might be able to inspire a career change for some of you.
In the meantime, if you haven’t seen the comic on Arkhaven go and check it out. The format makes it look even better than on our own site. In fact, Codex has sneaked humor in over the years that I never knew about.
And please, if you are the praying type: A little mention for discipline, wisdom, and comfort right now would be appreciated. Our “life changes” scale has gone parabolic.
–> Codex and Q
Update: Well, the comic is in the can, but Q pointed out that we need all hands on deck this week while the weather holds. So expect comic posting to be sparse.
Codex here. Sipping bourbon around the bonfire…
I could be finishing today’s comic. In a little while, I will be finishing today’s comic…
But d’ya see that pile? We have two weeks to get it burned, shredded, and/or composted. So my l33t Manga Studio skills are not nearly as important as my ability to haul, chop, and shred.
I got the death rose (Pleine de grace) pruned, too. So there’s that. MOAR firewood, right?
See you tomorrow!
Power died at the Studio. We’re in emergency power mode. It was a perfectly clear day with no wind, snow, wrecks… so why wouldn’t it just… go out? Pretty common in third-world countries like ours.
Comic should be out by noon.