Category Archives: Mr. Boy

Weeping Sponge

Mr. Boy certainly got Viacom’s message on Time-Warner’s threat to remove SpongeBob and some of Mr. B.’s other favorites from TW’s cable (our primary local provider). We do appreciate his little lesson in cutthroat capitalism and also the temporary agreement forestalling the Sponge’s demise. But he and we wonder why Viacom really needs an extra four dollars per cable customer from TW to keep providing the Sponge and his pals? Must be all that debt Viacom is carrying. But TW has its share.

Happy New Year, y’all

Still scouting around for appropriate links for likely end of the year sentiments.

I hope the IDF can end the Gaza deal with minimal casualties of its own. I’m sure our spineless leaders–who nevertheless provide IAF bombs–will force them to quit soon, as they always do.

Mr. Boy claims he wants to stay up until midnight, but he probably won’t make it. He had a sleepover last night at a pal’s place out in the western hills, events which usually mean little actual sleep. Fortunately he hasn’t heard about this yet, so we’re safe for another year, anyhow.

I’m hustling to finish a Civil War historical novel in time for Amazon’s Feb. 2 fiction contest. That will be it for me and make-believe. My next literary attempt will be some non-fiction Texana.

Mrs. Charm and I will spend a quiet evening and then enjoy her day off tomorrow, although forecast is for chilly. At the least we’ll get going on airline reservations for a planned D.C. trip in March.

UPDATE: My novel made the first cut to the top twenty percent. Then it went down in flames on the second cut to five percent. Oh, well. Bragging rights, at least, in the impending hunt for an agent.

The new Wii

Time was, back when Mr. Boy was a toddler, I had to stay up late trying to assemble some toy or other. Including, once, a Thomas the Tank riding train. This year all I had to do was set up a new Wii. Then, naturally, I had to test it. So I was up until 3 a.m. playing tennis on it. Until my wrist seized up.

Cotton Bowl-bound

The first time I saw Jeven Snead in person was when Mr. Boy’s cub scout troop was invited to a Longhorns football practice back in 2006. Snead looked taller than Colt McCoy, to whom JS seemed doomed to play backup forever, and I got the feeling that, in line with the rumors of the time, he wouldn’t be satisfied with that for long. So I was not surprised when he jumped ship for Ole Miss. Nor, given his high school performance in Stephenville, that he’s done well there.

Solstice adieu

Well, I made it past another solstice, without feeling the need for an Anglo-Saxon costume drama. Just a quiet day, despite the frigid aftermath of another overnight Blue Norther. Finishing Iron Sunrise, another good Charles Stross SF novel, and thinking of the seasonal carols of my youth, Adeste Fideles and Hark The Herald Angels Sing. Then I did the annual reading of his Maccabees book to Mr. Boy before we lit the first Hanukkah candle. For the next few days we will be singing Santa and Reindeer songs for his and Mrs. Charm’s secular celebration of Christmas.

Mrs. Charm

I’ve been considering this for a while now and I’ve finally decided to give Mr. Boy’s mom an anonymouse name of her own, instead of just referring to her as his mom, etc., which sounds sort of like I’m a stepdad, which is not the case. I will even give her a separate category of her own, so I can do posts on her doings, now and then. I did steal the name from the same nice blog where I filched the map of the "soler system," but there it’s Mr. Charm, so, their being of different genders, I doubt we’ll get them mixed up. In this blogosphere, we all learn from each other. More or less.

Parenting is not for wimps

When the kid’s teacher complains about his excess talking and not paying attention, to him in front of you, you expect he’ll be chastened and spend the rest of the day being extra good. Wrong. Not only does he not obey when you ask him to do something like hang up his coat or stop putting his grubby paw in the cereral box, but he lies to you about finishing his homework. When he tells you to shut up, you get a sudden appreciation for child abuse. Instead, you dock use of his Nintendo DS game for part of the upcoming weekend. Then, after his mother gets home, you go grocery shopping to cool off. Grocery shopping. Geez.