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Here it is, the middle of February already. It's been unseasonably mild, with some days reaching into the 40s (farenheit) and my wish for a snowy blanket covering the ground has gone unfulfilled. C'est la vie.


You wouldn't believe it, dear reader, but I've been behaving very 'grown-up' in 2012. I tried once again to quit smoking, and failed once again. I've started to contribute to a 401K plan for my retirement. I've already filed my taxes, and the good people at the IRS have been kind enough to already pay my refund.


Now the issue will be what very un-grown up thing will I do with the windfall. I spent a good portion of yesterday virtual window shopping for guitars and basses. I've given up on playing in a band, the late nights, poor turn-out and poorer compensation added up to more work than fun. I have been writing and recording with Brother SPidER, but do I NEED a new instrument? The practical answer is 'no'.


I could update my wardrobe. As part of my sudden and unintential adult-like behavior, I've been trying to dress a bit more grown-up and professional looking for work. Maybe I've reached a point where I'm putting away my childish ways? Heaven forbid!


I am open to suggestions. Mama 'Shot recommends that I save the money for her ever-impending rainy day. The idea has some merit as my current emergency fund consists of a pickle jar full of coins. And when I say 'full' I mean about a third of the way full.


I could spruce up the kitchen as I've been long planning to do, but that doesn't seem fun. Being underwater on my mortgage, I'll be here for years to come so it might be nice to look at something less hideous every day, but since it's only me, I can't wrap my head around the benefit outweighing the cost.


I could buy a new sofa. I could use a new sofa...

December 21, 2011

'Ello Kiddiez!!!

I reckon all my Christmas shopping is done. Not that I had much to get or many to buy for anyway. Kind of makes me wish I had little ones running about or at the very least nieces and/or nephews. Such are the wages of a solitary life I suppose.

As I write this, I'm listening to Mario Lanza. I remember my mother (Mama 'Shot to you) listening to his albums when I was just a wee 'Shot. If you haven't heard his rendition of O Holy Night, you're surely missing out. Of course, Nat King Cole's version is right up there as well, and if you're not opposed to slipping off the beaten path, treat yourself to The Brian Setzer Orchestra's recording of the song.

Still no snow, apart from Saturday morning's dusting that was gone by midday. :(

December 1, 2011

It's the most wonderful time of the year... (come on, I know you know the words so sing along)

After a VERY LONG hiatus from blogland, here I am again, home-sweet-condo. I suppose it's only fair to catch you all ("all" he says, as if...) up on the comings and goings in my little corner of terra sometimes not so firma.

Where to begin?

Mama and Papa 'Shot are doing well and up to their usual nothing much at all. I think I've decided what I'll get them for Christmas. If you promise to keep the secret, I'll tell you.

Brother SPidER has learned all there is to learn when it comes to the bass lines of Motley Crue. The band is really quite good, however his next show, I'm told, will be his last. It seems he doesn't have a passion for the lower register.

Adam is settled in and studying away at college. No time for dear-ol' dad these days, but such is life.

I can't believe it'll be TWO YEARS next month that I've been working where I work. Tempus where do you fugit to? In these most difficult of economic times, I got quite the increase this summer, it seems that for whatever reason, those in power think I have a bit of a knack for this. And to top it off, I'll start instructing in the on-site classrooms soon. Yikes!

I'm sure there's loads more, but that should be enough for now.

More later.

I love you all, and I've missed you terribly. Sorry for the absence, has your heart grown fonder or is it truly out of sight out of mind? We'll see I guess.

TTFN!

Stephen Fry Kinetic Typography - Language