Blog 5/4 thru 5/6

5/4

Today was May the Fourth, what they typically call Star Wars Day.  I usually try to create an image to post on Facebook, usually with one of the black sheep of the Star Wars universe.  This time, I picked an image from the anti-smoking PSA from around 1981:

Not to be outdone, Big Anklevich posted a worser one:

A bunch of websites had sales on Star Wars merchandise, and there was a little toy reveal by Hasbro.  Also, the new "Obi-wan Kenobi" trailer came out, but I didn't really need to see it, since I'm watching it later this month.  I'm going to be in Anaheim when the show starts airing, but I'm not particularly excited about it.  It's a Prequels show, what with Hayden Christensen and Ewan McGregor coming back, and that's not really my era.

I got a weird invitation the other day.  It was an email that said, "Add Six INCHES to you're Unit with this eazy hack!"  But I must've clicked on it wrong, because, if anything, it's even smaller today than yesterday.

No, actually, what I got was an invitation to narrate a story for The CatsCast . . . a podcast for cat aficionados.  It's a podcast done by the same guys who do Podcastle and Pseudopod, but they list their cats as associate producers.  It's not like I was on the fence or anything, but I considered emailing the editor back and saying, "You do realize that my two favorite cat stories are 'Pet Sematary' and Poe's 'The Black Cat,' don't you?" but figured, work is work.  Heck, I'd narrate a story for the JesusIsGodAndTheMyPillowGuyIsHisProphet podcast if they pretended they liked my narrations and offered me money.

I agreed, but Big Anklevich suggested I call them mean names on my blog.

Well, I didn't go that far, but I did pretend that I thought CatsCast was a podcast about Andrew Lloyd Webber's musical, and expressed my devotion for Rum Tum Tugger.  So there.

You're not gonna find a picture of me with a cat, so I found one of Blofeld that works (sort of).

5/5

You wanna feel particularly old (even if you're ten)?  I was driving my nephew home today and let him choose the station, and heard my first-ever Olivia Rodrigo sound-alike song.  A sound-alike, boys and girls.

Don't that turn your chonch hair white? 

As you know, Bob, I keep having to save my labels, email them to myself, and print them out at the library.  I purposely ordered a replacement printer from Arizona, so it would arrive quickly, but I didn't count on them not shipping for a while.  This afternoon, I finally got an email that they'd sent it off.  Ah well.

Oh, the reason I started blogging again was to report on whether I wrote or exercised each day (my goal is the whole darn month).  What I ought to do daily is put, at the end, "Wrote/Exercised?" and then say which one.

WROTE OR EXERCISED: Both

5/6

Something I absolutely LOVE about getting older is that my legs don't quite work right three or four times a week.  I find myself limping, even though there's no pain, and after a minute or so, my legs are fine.    Guess it's just a sweet, sweet preview of things to come.

Later this month, Marshal Latham and I are going on a road trip, which will invariably destroy our friendship.*  One of the things I said I was going to do in 2022 was write a story where there was a healthy, loving stepparent/stepchild relationship.

Thus far, I haven't had the opportunity to do so ("Balms & Sears" has a boy being raised by his kindly great-grandfather and a girl being raised by her sadistic uncle), but I remembered my vow and changed a line in the story, thinking of Marshal.  It's not quite fulfilling my promise, but it's something.

I hit the library yet again today, before going to the theater to see DOCTOR STRANGE with my cousin and my nephew.  I finished writing a new scene I started yesterday, and got the document to 38,000 words (which I think was my goal for May).  At this rate, it'll be 40,000 by the middle of the month, and by the end of the month, I'll be dead.

Just a random coincidence, the police will say.  But you'll know better.

WROTE OR EXERCISED: Wrote. 

*This happened with me once when I went on a trip with Big Anklevich, and his farts were so toxic they briefly turned the windshield black.