Here’s the deal: I’m about to have a little one in the house (see here for more on that), and I don’t want him watching several hours of TV per day from the moment he comes home. When you’re a critter, that stuff should be limited to Sesame Street and, well, just other PBS shows. Increased time in front of the TV (or monitor) has caused obesity rates to soar and worsening political and civil ignorance.

Moreover, I resent paying hundreds of dollars to one company for a super-happy-joy-joy bundle of services thanks to their monopoly on my neighborhood. Besides, I watch maybe 1% of our 2,000 channels and don’t even use the landline phone they provide. The solution? Cut them out of the loop as much as possible and get my entertainment from the Interwebs.

I did it by buying an HTPC—in this case, an Acer Revo 3610—and hooking it up to our receiver and TV in the living room. Bam! Instant online gratification, which sounds dirtier than it is. Between Hulu, YouTube, and other content providers, I’m not missing out on much by limiting my cable consumption to a dozen channels (again, most of which aren’t watched).

I’m also switching from Vonage to Ooma, which should save a pretty penny per month (and the quality is great, incidentally). When it’s all said and done, we’ll be saving a decent amount—and sticking it to The Man, which I just like saying. Awesome.

UPDATE: I may have to rethink this decision, as it’s been brought to my attention that my cable/phone conglomerate has added new channels. Take a look at what they tweeted about it:

Something tells me the former will be a bigger hit here in Texas.

It’s all so very easy, as you can see to the left. Seriously, you open the box, and this mess all kind of vomits out at one time, which may be apropos. That said, it doesn’t inspire one to pick up tools and get to constructin’. But with enough Elmer’s glue and duct tape, one can do anything, I’ve learned, so we girded ourselves and set to work.

The instructions were chock full o’ illustrations and relatively clear:

However, one illustration left me a little perplexed. However, a great discussion ensued about my new-found belief that Zane should be allowed to have a perm:

Best. Hair. Ever. Moreover, I’m now entirely convinced that said baby mans the Fisher Price consumer assistance lines, which is awesome. I’m gonna call up and ask about conditioners.

The baby jumper? Yeah, it got completed; we’ll see if the tyke likes it.

Still, I’ve found some of these services to be valuable; Facebook, in particular, has helped me reconnect with old friends and distant family. It’s also helped me connect to those with whom I have constant contact—my wife, for example. But, as it turns out, we don’t talk much on Facebook. Why? We’re married.

But that didn’t stop Facebook from suggesting the following:

I chuckled when I saw that, and I posted it on my wall for everyone to see. I think all my friends—save, perhaps, the one gentleman who thought it a good way to avoid all those “personal feelings associated with females”—saw the humor.

Facebook, however, wasn’t joking. My flippant treatment of their suggestion concerned the folks down at FB Central, for the following day I was greeted with this:

Apparently, it’s not enough that I should talk to my wife on Facebook. I now need to make it better for her. Next thing you know, it will tell me I need to call my mom more often and send better Christmas cards to my brother.

Nuts to you, Facebook. You can’t tell me what to do!

Important update!

The healing continues over at Facebook. Five days after this post was originally published, my personal FB counselor decided he/she couldn’t take it anymore and suggested the following:

Do they think I haven’t had a meaningful conversation with my wife in five days? Or, is it that I haven’t had a single conversation with her in five days? I just don’t know. Give me a few more days, and Facebook will—I’m certain—offer more guidance.

Parades are a good example—we love a good parade in the Hill Country. Indeed, we love them so much in Boerne, we regularly hold ones that last 3-4 hours. We don’t care if it’s blazing hot or freezing cold; every truck, trailer, and go-kart in Kendall County is required to participate. And you shouldn’t dare leave until the last one passes you.

We also bring out the big guns on July 4. I give all the kudos in the world to the Boerne fire department, as they put on a show that rivals those of much larger communities. In fact, almost the whole county turns out, parking at the fairgrounds, the high school, and the side of Highway 46. The coolers and collapsible chairs come out, the music gets turned up, and, before long, it looks like a NASCAR race.

This year’s show, while shorter than I recall previous shows being, didn’t disappoint. I assume the shorter play time was likely related to the massive drought affecting our area; we haven’t seen meaningful rainfall in a full year. In fact, most fireworks sales were banned in this area. Nuts to that.

I caught the finale on my iPhone, so you can judge for yourself: