My Decimated Dream of Being a Super Villain

I just want to say, in my own defense, that I have worked for years perfecting my evil laugh. And I must say, it's pretty good. That audible texture that permeates a room and stands every neck hair on edge, is the kind of laugh I'm talking about.  It seems to be the most desirable and notable trait of super villains. I mastered it, and it was all for naught!

Super villains have all the best roles in movies. With the possible exceptions of James Bond and Shrek, they get to have all the coolest lines. Everyone really wants to be that guy. Not to mention that the chicks go crazy for them. So it was natural that I would aspire to such a phenomenal role on the, somewhat long-shot, chance that I would be discovered by some highly paid Hollywood scout.

But, alas, that dream has now come crashing to the ground in flames. I have been informed that people think it is incongruous that I could be taken seriously as a villain after creating the book series, The Adventures of Boathouse Mouse.

Are you kidding me? That hardly seems fair!

All I did was write a series of stories about a guileless little mouse who was a diligent boat builder. He got the name, Boathouse Mouse, quite by accident. And when the ship that he built sailed, he went with it. Boathouse ends up adventuring around the world, meeting new friends, trying new foods, and experiencing the wonders of different cultures. Each adventure enhances his character. And he develops traits such as loyalty, determination, and forbearance.

That hardly seems like condemning evidence. And it wasn't even leaked by a foreign spy!

Well, you know what they say: "If you can't beat 'em, join 'em."

So, I may still pull out my evil laugh on occasion, but otherwise I will embrace my new found status as a non-villain. I can even admit in public that I get a big kick out of kids laughing and having a good time. I have a blast when my turn comes up to work in the nursery at church. I think I may be as much of a kid as some of the kids are! I might even buy some candy and … no, that would be taking it too far.

If you are wondering what all the hoopla is about, you can check it out here.  Boathouse Mouse

A Handful of Golden Rings

Today is the eleventh day of October. Which means tomorrow is the twelfth day of October. Which reminds me of the 12 Days of Christmas.

But, before I break out in song about lords-a-leaping, and pipers-piping, or even a handful of golden rings (Did you see what I did there?), we need to discuss the merits of ordering unique Christmas gifts early.

Around our house, we love to give gifts, but we want them to be meaningful. The actual dollar amount is irrelevant, as long as it is within the budget. Often, for our family, we make gifts or purchase unique items that are handmade by artisans. We have thrifted gifts, and even regifted gifts to someone in the family that had a greater need or more use for the item in question.

By way of confession, one of the categories of gifts that has always been high on our family's priority list is books. I know that may come as a surprise to everyone who reads this. But it is true. And I hope you have people in your life that love to read too.

Which brings us back to the opening commentary. If you have someone on your Christmas list for whom you are intending to purchase books written by me, it would be a great idea to make your purchases earlier rather than later.

It would break my heart if a child was left weeping on Christmas morning because their book was not ordered in time. Imagine how embarrassing it would be for the young man who would have to postpone the proposal because the books that were supposed to hold the engagement ring were out of stock.

Take my advice, avoid all those awkward scenarios by ordering early.

That's my hard sell. And they wonder why we're called starving artists.

Kingdom of The Falcon Series

The Adventures of Boathouse Mouse Series

The Perfect Storm

When I said I would really like to have a whole weekend to write without other chores to do, I didn't mean this. Maybe I should be more specific.

There are two good things about storms for me. First, I sleep well. In fact, storms are so soothing to me that I get my best sleep during a storm. They have the exact opposite effect on my poor wife. The second benefit is, there is nothing else that I can do, so I am free to write.

It looks like Hurricane Matthew is going to be the perfect storm for that. It will begin during the day and land on a weekend, so I don't feel like I'm missing work. And, it will be strong enough that I will feel completely released from all other responsibilities during the blow.

There is a down side, of course. There is always a huge mess afterward and we will be without electricity for days. Naturally, there is the risk of damage to our home and other possessions as well. There is nothing I can do about those problems in advance. I've made a ramp and have the mower safely sequestered in the shop. It will take about twenty minutes on Friday for the hanging plants and trash cans to join the mower.

Just like that, we're prepared.

Well, almost prepared. We still need to fill containers with water and get some extra ice. Then we're prepared.

Now my question is: Which book do I work on? I am well into Book 5 in the Kingdom of the Falcon Series. I am well into Book 4 in the Adventures of Boathouse Mouse. I need to do a final edit on The Valley of the Ten Gatekeepers. And, I was thinking of writing the next section of Time Zone, of which I shared the first section with the family last year on Christmas Eve.

I could go on with many more titles that are started, but you get my dilemma. I probably need a six-month storm. However, for numerous reasons, that would be unsustainable.

Ironically, I am left with having to schedule my spare time among the books. It will require some well-thought-out strategy as well as some tough love decisions. I might even have to resort to a rock-paper-scissors contest for those really difficult choices. This could actually warrant a written pros and cons spread sheet!

Yikes! Who knew a silly hurricane could be so stressful? I may need to reassess my definition of the perfect storm.

Built Like a Brick Pagoda

I don't actually know how tough a brick pagoda is, or how that phrase ever came into existence. But, back in my day, it was a commonly-evoked metaphor indicating extreme structural integrity. For instance, “Don't pull her ponytail, she's built like a brick pagoda,” would have loosely translated to, “If you mess with that girl, she will twist you into the shape of a pretzel and rub your face in the dirt, because she is much tougher than you are.”

The event that dug this lexicological buried treasure from my memory was the removal of a brick chimney from our house.

Now, to get the full picture of this chimney, one must understand that this is an old house. Our octogenarian neighbors are great-grandchildren of the builder. The house is considerably over a century old, and the portion of the house in which the chimney stands was probably added on about seventy-five years ago. This region was the domain of poor fishermen, so you can deduce that a long time ago, someone built the chimney with minimal resources.

That chimney has long since been out of business except as habitat for clamorous birds in the springtime. It has also been leaking for years, possibly decades. But that all ended yesterday.

It has long been on the bottom of my to-do list to take that chimney down, at least to the roofline, and patch over the space. It only leaked when it rained. And, as you may imagine, it actually rains here on the coast of North Carolina.

Then yesterday I awoke to the news that we have a substantial hurricane potentially coming to visit next weekend. Nobody has time for a hurricane, but nobody gets that choice either. So, I canceled my Saturday schedule and put the chimney project at the top of my list.

I have worked in all kinds of construction and own most tools known to modern man. However, I have never done much in the masonry department and I actually had to purchase a masonry hammer for the job.

When I finally had all my supplies in order, I attacked the chimney with some degree of uncertainty. Years ago I had observed an old guy “dig” through a brick wall to make a doorway. He was a pro and made it look easy. With that memory in my mind, my goal was to not look like a complete nincompoop.

My attempt to channel that old brickmason was actually successful. The bricks all but melted off the chimney as I tapped them one by one. The key was to deliver gentle but decisive taps at angles that create the greatest stress on the mortar joint. I whittled it down to the roof-line, then went into the attic and took it the rest of the way down to the ceiling. It took me about an hour or two to take down six feet of chimney.

All the time I was tapping and tossing those bricks, I kept thinking, “Are brick pagodas this fragile? Did the Chinese have some special ingredient in their mortar? Or are those monuments of ancient architecture about to crumble? Maybe they tossed in some powdered panda toenail clippings? Has my life been spent believing a hoax, that this is the gold standard of construction?”

I never did manage to get a handle on those deep questions. But I did get my roof sealed up. I also believe I avoided nincompoop status. And I will never again suggest something is built like a brick pagoda … unless I'm about to demolish it with a hammer.

Starving Artist Studio

That sounds like my kind of place.

This weekend, my wife and I took a detour from our regularly scheduled insanity and made a relaxing (read that as a mad dash) trip up to Virginia to visit daughter #3 and her husband. By name, this is daughter Irene. And Irene works at a place called Starving Artist Studio. And Starving Artist Studio is a place where people, as in ordinary folks like you and me, go and paint pottery.

The way the drill works is, you walk in the door, wander around looking at the raw pottery until you can decide what kind of piece you want to do. Then you paint it with all the special paints using tools that are unique to such artwork. When it all dries, they glaze it and fire it in their kiln, then you retrieve it a few days later.

It may come as a surprise to some folks that I chose to do a coffee mug. But, I assure you, this will be no ordinary coffee mug! This will be a replica of a famous flagon. I'll elaborate on that after I get the finished/fired mug back. Unless, of course, it is so profoundly embarrassing that I can't bring myself to share a picture of it.

Now I'm not going to brag, but my skills in this kind of artistic expression are probably legendary. In fact, other than one piece done by a five-year-old, I think mine was the worst I saw. It seems that everyone in the Norfolk area has steadier hands than I do. Maybe they can actually feel their fingertips. I'm thinking that would be a plus.

Meanwhile, I have included a photo of me muddling through the process. My hope is that it will encourage you to try something new and different. It really is okay if you are not all that good at it. And despite my shortcomings, I actually had a great time.

If you happen to be in the vicinity of Newport News, Virginia, you might want to check them out: Starving Artist Studio