Jack Kirby @ 96
I sometimes forget, but it’s nice to remember Jack on his birthday.
I sometimes forget, but it’s nice to remember Jack on his birthday.
I’m backdating this post. I was preoccupied on the day and later went out with Steve to see a movie and have a quick drink.
But I had to mark the fact that August 13th 2013 would’ve been mom’s 70th birthday. Here’s she aged 21 in 1964…
Read More »Mom’s 70th
I almost forget. Today is the 60th birthday of a certain Mr. David Robert Jones (Sir Ziggy to you)!
Read More »Ah! Bathtime for Bo!
Yeah, it is my birthday today. Not enough time to write anything more than that right now… then again, I normally just moan about it… Read More »Is It That Day AGAIN?!
Well, it’s now December, which means this blog’s three years old. How scary. Life was quite substantially different three years ago (in both a better way and a worse way). Starting a blog was just a laugh at the time, which on reflection might be the best attitude to have, since looking for a greater importance seems bound to fail.
Read More »1095 Days
Well, hey, I’m still here. No wrist-slashing antics during the night. I’m coping with being an old fart remarkably well. By my standards, that is.
And yes, this comes to you from a new computer, which came Tuesday. Last time I bought a new computer, almost two years ago, it was a second-hand piece of tat due to limited funds (my old old one blew up). So, okay, it’s only a computer… but it sure is nice to use compared to the creaky old brute I’ve been stuck with. 18″ TFT too—sexy! And I can burn CDs now. Of course, without a pack of CDs to play with, that isn’t much use. Today is shopping day, so that situation will be remedied shortly.
Read More »No Letter From the Queen
I might refrain again from posting for a day or three. I’m reserving the right to feel a bit depressed, because it’s my birthday tomorrow.… Read More »It’s My Party, Yada Yada Yada…
Okay, so ‘tomorrow’ was a long time coming. But I guess I’ve had a lot on my mind one way or another.
The bad news I mentioned is that our dog, Fred, who is only seven years old, was pronounced terminally ill by the vet. I was really shaken by the news, and on reflection not entirely convinced the vet wasn’t being overly fatalistic—but technically, Fred is mom’s dog, and she has accepted the diagnosis.
Read More »Bad News Explained