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.

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.

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:

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.

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 …

My solution? I bought a motorcycle. Roughly 36 hours later, it started raining buckets. If you’re thinking the two are unrelated, know this: I don’t have a car. Yeah, I gave mine to my wife—only after I sold hers. The motorcycle is my only transportation.

Here I was, thinking I was doing something good for the environment, my family’s finances, and my sanity (Psst! Don’t buy German automobiles.). That all may be true, but I was also doing something good for local vegetation and the farmers’ union. September was one of the wettest on record, and October looks to be no different.

Moreover, I had to start mowing the lawn again. Nuts to that.

So enjoy your green grass and generalized plant revival, South Texas, and don’t forget to send me a thank-you card. Just know that I intend to sell my old snow shoes to guarantee a white Christmas.

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.

Secondly, I had previously blogged through this site, which is now in a state of dormancy. It was more of a professional site, but I found myself writing rarely on professional matters, so I made the call to separate business from pleasure.

Thus, MDWD (I’m already assuming I’ll reach epic, acronym-worthy status with this site) was born. Moreover, I’m going to commit to writing and sharing more, even if it means putting up more photos of Monroe in his finest. If I’m desperate, I’ll throw up a picture of Willie the cat peeing in the dogs’ food bowl (he does) or Stonewall, our other dog, mewing like Chewbacca on a humid night (she does).

Bear in mind, this isn’t strictly a pet-related site—I just find humor in my animals, particularly since so many suggest they tend to take on their owners’ personalities. Incidentally, I don’t pee in the dogs’ food bowl, so you’ll have to talk to my wife about that. Chewbacca noises? No comment.

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: