You need not fear this turning into a baby blog, if that’s what you’re thinking—the money ain’t right, and I can’t be that preachy. Besides, “My Dog Wears Diapers” just wouldn’t work. On the other hand, if you’re looking for a side-by-side comparison of the dog’s diapers vs. the boy’s, I can assure you it’s in the works.

However, since we now have two squirming beasts in diapers at this house, I’m actively looking for donations and sponsorships. Seriously, Pampers, I’m looking at you. If you want a cute baby on your packaging—or if you ever wanted to break into the dog/pet market—I’m ready to talk.

But this Thanksgiving, the family (and I, tsk) enjoyed some time at the Grinch-themed ICE! exhibit at the Gaylord Texan in Grapevine, and it was downright enjoyable—cold, but enjoyable. Seriously, these sculptures were impressive; take a look:

Who-ville and all its inhabitants were painstakingly created by a crack team of Chinese ice sculptors. Apparently, local boys can’t get the Grinch’s glare just so—or they demand health insurance and hourly hot chocolate breaks. Either way, the imported labor should be commended.

My in-laws also had a blast, evidenced by their brazen attempts to monopolize the ice slide:

The photo above is of one of our first ultrasounds, and I’ve used my fancy photoshoppin’ skills to point out a couple of labels I believe were entirely unnecessary. Perhaps, if I had viewed the screen and exclaimed, “Honey, you’re sprouting peas” or “Look at the size o’ that critter,” these would be warranted.

Oh, I know these things can be confusing. My reaction to our first experience in the booth was a series of questions, including—but not limited to:

• Won’t she cramp up in that position?
• What’s that stuff you’re … ?
• Am I looking through a tunnel?
• When does “The Dark Side of the Moon” start playing?

Still, I didn’t think I needed some labels telling me where the baby was and that objects may be bigger than they appear. That’s not to say I don’t appreciate the help, but sheesh …

Ralph is, as it turns out, my stepfather and an all-around great guy. He’s also a former teacher and living history participant, thus explaining the get-up in that photo. This month, however, he’s also the voice talent for the Boerne Wild West Day television commercial.

The firm I work for has had the pleasure of creating and managing most of the marketing and PR for the event, and one of the sponsors donated some air time. That meant, of course, that we needed a commercial. In, oh, about four days.

We couldn’t turn down that kind of challenge, but it did put us in a bind for footage, artwork, music, and such. I ended up using art we had created for the website, stills and footage supplied by Enchanted Springs Ranch (the event host), and stock music for background.

But what of narration? Finding good voiceover talent is a difficult task, and we simply didn’t have time to listen to hundreds of demo reels. Ralph was my ace in the pocket, however, as he’s got a great voice for Western-themed work and experience behind a microphone. We recorded the script in my home studio; a few days later, what you see below was broadcast around the Hill Country.

You can read more about the making of the commercial (and other marketing materials) here.

As expected, Uptown, the Garden District, and Downtown are back on track; while I didn’t visit the eastern part of the city, my guess is that it hasn’t been given as much attention. Moreover, much remains to be done, which might help explain why only half the city’s population has returned. Still, there were plenty of tourists on the street, and one could sense in the air the same spirit that has inspired NOLA dwellers to thumb their noses at every other natural disaster that has threatened them. Here are some pictures from flickr (click on one to see the whole set):

Honestly, I could spend a few weeks in the city and still have things to do. If you’re on the fence about visiting, get off it and go. The city is springing back to life, and they need the tourist dollars. Just remember: You got your shoes on Bourbon Street.

Unfortunately, I have absolutely no business being on the slopes. I took only one trip down the mountain, and I spent the overwhelming majority of it either on the ground or in the process of getting there. When five-year-olds giggle incessantly while scooting past you, prostrate on the snow, you understand a new meaning of humiliation. I even walked off the last 10% of the slope to avoid taking down others.

Check out some photos of our trip on flickr.

It’s hard to believe Moz has reached that age. She’s still talkin’ and kickin’, in fact, and I wouldn’t be surprised if she made it past 100. She’s one tough woman. Seriously, when you’re a pistol-packin’ county commissioner, nobody should bet against you.

Again, happy birthday, Moz. Next year, let’s go skydiving.

Considering that she had me in a class during her first year, that’s a surprising fact. That’s right: my mom had to teach me as a seventh-grader. Yikes. Half the class called her mom, and almost none of us listened to her. I’m amazed she didn’t hang it up then.

Congratulations, Mom! You deserve some rest.