Bear Clause and the Eight Tiny Shelties

Many of you remember that last year was an economically hard Christmas for everyone and it was equally so at the North Pole.  There were layoffs both Elf and Deer---it did seem to straighten itself out for a bit and things seemed to return to normal with some prompt rehirings as funding became available

You see, Toyota heard of the North Pole’s troubles and thought it would be good publicity for them to fund this year’s Santa trip around the world—after all, Santa GOOOOOD, no Christmas, BAAAAAAD.

And to seal the deal Santa was presented a brand new flashy Hundyai by Toyota. Why?  Er…..because they can?

And there began the trouble---Santa can’t drive.  Not even the sleigh—no a vehicle of any kind.  His drivers are reindeer and Donner heads the team.

But Santa was thrilled with his new aquistion and took it out for a spin despite desperate pleas from Mrs. Clause and Sebastian Elf, Mrs Clause’s assistant.

So off he went, barreling down a steep slope—right over the reindeer clauseway—tearing up the ice as 65 plus miles an hour—zooming straight into Elfington—ho ho hoing his way down that slope and right into the Kringle Kandy Shop where he was hurled out of the car upon impact and impaled in the ass by a very important looking candy cane addressed to the president of Toyota.

OK, I have to say it:  This did not sit well with the residents of Elfington.  There was NO WAY that Santa was going to heal up in time

Toyota was not worrying—they still had their positive PR and besides, the fat old elf was driving a Huyndai.  Those guys sure are brilliant, aren’t they?

Now, in the North Pole, there is hardly any medicine at all. Up there it’s all elves and reindeer and each species has its own ways of healing.

That jolly old fat man—is not an elf.  He is in fact a jolly old fat man who was out on a drunk when he was picked up and taken to the North Pole and the built by the elves and given Mrs Clause and a nice warm home and lots of cookies and milk.

So the elves did not know exactly how to fix Santa’s peppermint scented bum so they extracted the candy cane and left the healing to Santa’s Wife’s assistant, Sebastian, who  really only knew how to do ONE thing: he spent the afternoon sponging Santa’s bottom down with warm milk.   As soon as that was done he constructed a cast, yes a cast, out of oatmeal cookies and told Santa to lay in bed and rest and to stay AWAY from the reindeer as reindeer really enjoy oatmeal cookies.

Well, we are talking about a demented old man who never listens to anyone and off he goes to address his troops, the reindeer.  They are going to ride through this together –friends to the end!

Well, they ate his pants. Then they ate his cookie cast. Then they ate his shirt and his hat and would have eaten him if  old elf crumbwell hadn’t reached in that corral and pulled him out and returned him to his home and his bed.

Now that was the last that I heard of the incident until yesterday.

I was over a the inworldz Christmas display talking to Bebe and admiring her Mooville display and turned and started heading back to mine which was, for some inexplicable reason, a gas station.

When what to my wondering eyes did appear but a tiny red sleigh and eight tiny rein…..er…shelties.

Shetland Sheepdogs, eight of them and a little puppie with a really bright red nose.

There was a polar bear driving the sleigh and so the moral of this tale is:

Put away them milk and cookies boys and girls and break out the salmon cause Bear Clause is comin’ to town!
 

Farewell Steelheart Village

This coming Wednesday, in Second Life, Something will happen that I consider important and you may not.

Bebelou Naidoo and I are shutting down our operation of Steelheart Village.

It was the best place you never visited and let me tell you that I wish that you had.

Steelheart was the first project where Bebe and I worked together as business associates and we had a darn good time doing it.  She suddenly decided that she was going to have a village and foster a community and I just nodded and smiled and because she was doing it I knew that I was going to be involved.  Bebe has very good ideas and she is good at making those ideas spring to life.

So she bought her land in Kirkoswald  and I grabbed anything surrounding her and we built a village.  

I read Bebe’s comments and I don’t think I could write anything more eloquent so I will just hit some high points:

     1. Bebe Dropped a house on a neighbor while helping set up my studio.

2. I opened a Gallery called Wolf Island Studios which became listed as a Linden place to visit.
3. Bebe sets loose a reign of tornadoes on the village the likes of which I have never seen.
4. She  contracts and hires a builder and suddenly our land starts turning into a village--with people!
5. She builds lakes
6. She builds an ice skating ring
7. I built a sand box
8. She organized a holiday market where we met Khan the texture guy
9. I opened the Black Kitty Pub
10. We meet Serene and Brenden who organize the pub in to an English Folk Club which becomes very successful
11. She is the queen of Terraforming--the village is constantly changing.
12. She brings in Hunts
13. I do a series on Hunt History at Wolf Island Studios
14. She installs and Arcade and a movie theatre
15. Bebe opens the Gadgeteria and sells Profile Sniffies a the Sit N Win tables. 

Yes, good times were indeed had.

So  I stroll down the path one last time to say goodbye to a fine old English Pub and its revelers, to say goodbye to the villagers and group members who took the chance on us, I have to regrets—only something wonderful to look forward to and something equally wonderful to look back upon.

Goodbye, Steelheart, its time to sleep.

John Goes Down on the Dishwasher

I found out that I can accomplish great and foolish things when I have a headache .  I don’t know if I had a migraine or a wholegrain headache but it was a throbbing that would have reduced Theodore Roosevelt into  a whimpering democrat and over the edge of sanity to the Progressive Bull Moose Party.

Yeppers.  I had a humdinger of a headache and it was about to get worse. Headaches are part of the  human messaging system that warn you to slow down and don’t stare to hard at a computer screen or lay off the monosodium glutenate—get some rest, close your eyes and meditate and  medicate that pain away and if you are a good John Mahogany, this body may let you live yet another day.

Well, I am not a good John Mahogany, I am a male and I can do anything I want regardless of how stupid it might be because by golly!  I’m a manly man!

Ummm right……

Rumpelstiltskin mistook my head for a first born child and tried to pry it off my neck.

But seriously, this whole mess I am about to pour onto you began as a simple earache and cascaded into a broken dishwasher.

Friday:  Because the Work Week Ended

I was feeling fine until the end of the day at which time I logged off and shut down my work systems.   I sat there smiling smugly to myself---a pleasant undisturbed weekend. I would build my animals, make custom sculpts for clients and work on my carousel project.  I was also looking forward to the new Blender book I had just purchased over at Amazon.  It had just arrived and so I was all revved up for an enjoyable read on this very cool modeling program.

Then it began—I went to bed—an easy task at the end of the day—and then the night took me to the land of Winkin' Blinkin' and Nod (this is a very cool place to be—its where ideas are born so keep a notebook by your bed at all times)---I went to bed at midnight and one and a half minutes later, I woke up feeling not very well rested….well, it was 6:45 am and I could not hear, I had a ringing in my ears, runny eyes and  nose, itchy throat—I was the Pizza Hut supreme pizza of allergies and it wasn’t going to get better.

SO

I took a shower (helped a little), shaved (well doesn’t help allergies but it’s a reasonable morale booster), dressed and stumbled down to the kitchen where I made a pot of Sleepy Tyme tea (read SLEEPY), I drank my tea and promptly fell asleep in my Lazy Boy recliner---I was awakened as my wife and daughter came bounding into the living room announcing that they were off to tour bookstores for the day.

Now a quick break for some information here—I drank my tea and I did manage to set down the cup—it was at that crucial moment that I fell into a fairly deep sleep. Now here’s the thing—in MY chair my head does not always stay seated in the upright position—no it would rather list like a sinking ship to one side and list it did—all the way to the right side sinking my weekend into a maelstrom of intense head pain.

BACK TO OUR STORY:

SO…they came abounding, and I woke up with a sudden jerk!   And then it happened. The most bone crunching, skin tearing, fire starting, lightening striking,blackboard screeching, rock pounding bolt of pain imaginable. 

But did I cry out in pain?----er no—instead, I gritted my teeth and moved my body into a position that “looked” like my head was in an upright position.

And then---I smiled and it was I can tell you with all my God fearin’ heart that this was the smile of the damned—that grimace of death was going to freeze on my face—I just knew it!

And so they left….for a minute there was silence as I tried to figure out what to do—and then in pops my daughter.

“Dad, we won’ t be long—there is aspirin in the bathroom, I set you out a glass of water—If your headache does not subside  I want you to go and see a doctor.”

(how does she know to do that?)

"OK, hon—I will go on Thursday (knowing full well Thursday was a holiday)—is that ok?"

“sure, dad as long as you go." and she turned and as she did i heard her murmur "we'll save you some turkey".

“Bye honey”  I watched her leave and when I heard the door latch, I sprang into action.

Well, not so much springing as it was crawling—I crawled into action letting myself slither for the chair and on to the cool tile floor. I then manage to work my way into a standing position that any bell ringer or grave digger would have been proud to have as their own—I then hobbled to the bathroom—found the aspirin that she put out and then worked my way to the kitchen where I found the glass of water that she had left for me.

Popping the painkillers choking the down the cold water I went  to my office and to the computer and headed Inworldz where I promptly fell asleep once again.

zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz........................

When awoke, I was staring at a screen saver and the room was spinning. I was also feeling nauseous so naturally I assumed a glass of chocolate milk would solve my current problems.

Now just a brief moment here---when your head is pounding, your sinuses are holding you prisoner, you do NOT think about what is good or not—at this particular and admittedly peculiar  moment I am a dog acting solely on instinct and being the dog that I am I would have sniffed another dog’s beckoning butt if I thought it was going to make the pain go away—I would have urinated on a fire hydrate and chased a cat up a tree if I thought that those particular acts would make the pain go away—I was delirious and i knew that i had to make some sort of magic potion involving chocolate to make the nasty stabbing and thrusting in my head go away.

So I make it to the kitchen and there is the dishwasher, open and lid down, tray pulled out waiting to be loaded with dishes but I ignored it because all I knew was that the only way I was going to cure myself of this literal pain in my neck was to have my glass of chocolate milk.

And THEN it began:

1. I pull out the milk (there are two jugs i choose the top one and open it –it has gone sour
2. I make one of those wrinkly nose faces that is standard practice for “bad Smell”
3. I move quickly to take it to the sink to empty
4. Sudden, massive rush to my head and
5. I am spinning, falling to the floor
6. I crash land onto the dishwasher lid and roll of it on to the floor
7. Where I hit my head and am rendered unconscious
8. The sour milk empties itself all over my clothes and exposed body such as my face and my hair and hands soaking its way through my shirt, pants and of course into my underwear and tee shirt.  I smell like cheese gone bad.

Now, being semi woozy and knowing full well that I was wet and smelling bad and my head was still pounding I did the only natural thing that I could do:

Change clothes, you say?  Take a bath because you stink.  Nawww—I headed back to that refrigerator to complete my sworn mission—I was dripping from sour milk and my blood pressure was off the charts but I knew that I needed to complete my task --not just for me – but for all those crazies out there who have let their headaches best them in an unfair fight—so I pulled out the good jug of milk and the Hershey’s syrup and I made the richest, the creamiest, the by golly how good this is--have a Hershey's chocolate-gasm –the frothiest glass of chocolate milk that would have made a Pennsylvanian shudder from cocoa envy at the mere sight of this glass of  comforting delight.

I put the glass into the dishwasher, slide in the trays, set the settings, close the door and amble away to my second shower.

So

I shower---AGAIN—but appreciating the very hot water splashing all over my body—it seemed to be helping my head and my head was beginning to clear:

OMG!  I did a swan dive into the dishwasher---I am almost 6 feet tall and stocky--i am a big ol' man bear and I murdered the dishwasher!

I tip toe down the hallway, head starting to throb again and peeked around the corner—there it was the magic silver box that took care of me after home cooked meals and the lights were out, not on –as in OFF.

I opened the dishwasher and peaked inside—when I landed I dented the door and broke the connection to the main electrical line.

I sighed the great sigh that only the fully emasculated and defeated man could sign and slammed the door of the newly deceased appliance shut.

1 hour later, my dishes were clean.

The Magpie is Here!

Here is the thing: I like to think i am a fairly well informed user of a computer.  I play virtual games. I have owned a website company, I send a mean email, i can IRC with the best of you.  

But i forget.  You see the pain of my existence is passwords--i have a string, no--a heavy hemp entwined rope of long forgotten and mostly unused passwords and usernames.

so i forgot my password to this blog and fiddled and fussed about until i a managed to worm my way back into this blog's user interface.

My plan for this small and hopefully regular tome is to talk to you about my life and the animals that i make and that I love.

But for now this is just a quick hello out there to  let you know that me and my big mouth are here  and that i am tapping away at this keyboard desperately hoping that it might magically turn into an IBM Selectric typewriter with the cute little silver font balls and the never abundant supply of white out and white out tapes  harmonizing with crumpling wads of paper and the endless scrip scrip of wads of said paper bouncing listlessly off the rim of my trash can.

Let the blog begin!