And Thus Ends My Undergraduate Career

The final assignment of my undergraduate career was to compile a table of contents for the imaginary poetry publication I am putting together.  I have done so.  Behold, my mythical poetry journal.

Table of Contents

Cynthia Cruz


Notes on the Disaster/2

The Great Destroyer/3


Nancy Botkin

The Lost Serenade/4

Geometry/ 5

The History of Ourselves/6


David Dodd Lee

Two Strangers/7

Dry Creek Bed/8



Allen Peterson

Epistemology Follows/10


Grey Areas/12


Clayton Michaels



The Art of Sweeping Things Under the Rug/15


LeeAnn Brown

Black is the Color/17


Todd Boss

Two Cameos/19

Robert Campbell

Zombie Dialectic/21


Emanuel Moses

Second Elegy/23


Angela Rydell

I’m Alone and You’re a Bottle/24


Emily Fragos


Patrick Donnelly

After a Move/26


Becca Hall

To Speak This/27


Keith Ekiss



Christopher Howell

The Mysterious Courtesy of Fondness/29


Dan Manchester



Robyn Art

Why Skaggs Junction Has No Town Hall/31


Martha Ronk

When a Photograph Arrives by Mail/32


Anemone Beauvlier

Bedtime Story/33


Brenda Hillman

For One Whose Love Has Gone/34


Scott Keeney

The Proletariat’s End/35


Stacey Waite



Laurie Lambeth

Upon Reading the Radiologist’s Report/37

Why I Kept the Lilies/38


Ivan Young

The Bike in the Ditch/39


Adrian Belvins

This Little Catalogue of Losses/40


Gina Bernard



Fire Ant/43


Rob McClennon

A Single Streak, Pure White of Sky/44



Nicole Walker

El Nino/46

Bees, Keys, Sealed/47


Molly Bendall

Season of Perpetrators/48

Monday Guardian/49


Anne Elvoy

The Wind/50


William Cordeiro

Just Because, Just Because/51


Suspended Animation/53


Sterling Plumpp

Mississippi Suite Part I/54

Mississippi Suite Part II/55


Angela Jackson

My Father’s Prayers/56

Summer and the City/58


Ada Limon

Tattoo Theory/59


Kathleen Ossip

Funeral of my Character/60


Molly McCully Brown



Erick Piller

What to do When it Happens/62


Evie Shockley

I Declare War/63


John Graham



Michael Burkard

Fargo, North Dakota/65


Brigitte Byrd

Withered Away/66


Brendan Galvin

Carolina Déjà vu/68


Priscilla Becker

A Minor Language/70


Tom. C. Hunley

At the End of a Long and Varied Career/71


Cassie Sparkman

Cupid and the Party Dress/72


Lynne Knight

Vermont Barn/73


B.L.P. Simmons

Garden of the Material/75


Jason Gray



Jaclyn Dwyer

Praise Poem for American girls/78


Tony Hoagland

The Complex Sentence/79


Jamal May

Masticated Light/81


Jay Nebel



Carl Phillips

Chromatic Black/83


Jake Adam York

Letter Written in Black Water and Pearl/85


Rebecca Hazelton

Book of Absence/87


Nina Puro

The Diversion/89


Gregory Djanikian

The Invention of Death/91


Katy Didden

Excavating the Cyclops’s Eyesocket/93


Jeffery Morgan

The Grizzly/94


Jill Osier

Left to Itself the Heart Considers Its Length of String/95

Brief Study of Parades/96


Kathryn L. Pringle

Obscenity for the Advancement of Poetry 6/97

Obscenity for the Advancement of Poetry 7/98


Joyelle McSweeny

Toussaint L’ouverture/100

The Pennsylvania Sweets/101

Avarice Reverie, USMC/103


Dean C. Robertson

Otron and his Dark Horse/105


John A. Nieves


Altitude Sickness/107


Joshua Kryah


The Children’s Crusade/109


Emily Kendal Frey

From Sorrow Arrow/111


Josh Fomon

To Find a Priceless Home/112




Adam Day

Driving Home Through Virginia/117


Julia Cohen

You’ll See My Design Inside a Lemon/118



Anne Cecelia Holmes

A Test for Safe Zones/119


Anne Marie Rooney

My Year with Flowers, Unshrinking/120


J. A. Tyler

Hallucinations Brought on by Inclement Weather/122



Wendy Xu and Nick Sturm

I Was Not Even Born When You Turned Me Into a Baby/123

I Was Not Even Born When Your Face Was Looking at Mine/124

I Was Not Even Born When You Started Paying Great Attention/125


Gary Jackson

Letters to my Daughters: Siri/126

Letters to my Daughters: Kimberly/127


Jason Bredel

Sunset Fever/128

Terror Bird/129

Panther Pride/130


Justin Sirois



Matthew St. Amand

The Teacher and the Tuner/134


Maureen Thorson



Marc McPhee

And the Lord Made Garments of Skins/138


How We Respond is What it Means/141


Grant Souders

Early in the Field/143

Ships Before Me/145


Sally Wen Mao

On the Sorrow of Apiary Thieves/147


Roy Mosh

Letter to my Penis/149



Matthew Minicucci




Tracy Thomas

It Means Bread/154

Breaking News–Author Interview with Susan Dorsey

We interrupt your program to bring you some breaking news.  Author Susan Dorsey has stopped by to talk about her new book that comes out next week!

She said the stale bagels would be fine. She doesn't look like they're fine.

She said the stale bagels would be fine. She doesn’t look like they’re fine.

E: Welcome to my blog, Susan!  Glad you could make it on such short notice.  Here, have some stale bagels.

S: Thanks much, Erin!  Stale bagels and an interview?  Not too shabby!

E: You have a brand new book coming out next week.  What’s it called, and what can we expect to see, and when can we get it?

S: A Haunted Death will be available from in paperback and Kindle versions on May 1st, 2013.  This is the third in the Jane Brooks mystery series, but you don’t have to read the first two to follow the story. 

sample (1)

Jane and her fellow hairdresser, Rodney, get invited to a séance at a client’s barn.  Jane doesn’t really expect to see a ghost there, but then again, she didn’t expect to see a corpse either.  The ghost-hunter dying in the barn is bad enough, but when other people at the séance start turning up dead, Jane and Rodney must discover if they are being hunted by a human or haunted by a ghost. 


E: How did writing this book differ from writing the earlier books?  Was it easier because you had the characters all set up, or was it more challenging because you needed to keep them fresh and interesting?

S: Each chapter of the Jane Brooks series starts with a quote.  The first book, A Civil Death, dealt with the Civil War history in the East Tennessee area.  The second book, A Discriminating Death, revealed the Melungeon heritage abundant here.  It was relatively easy to research both of those books; a lot has been written about both topics.  A Haunted Death was a bit trickier.  I couldn’t find any good source books about hauntings in East Tennessee.  Instead, I turned to my friends and neighbors for their stories.  Almost everyone would deny that they had any ghostly experiences, and then they would pause and say, ‘well, there was this one time….’  It was wonderful to hear what people had seen and heard.   Several people were kind enough to let me quote them at the start of a chapter.  I love reading their stories.  I think it sets the tone for the whole book.

I do think that the actual writing of A Haunted Death was easier because I was very familiar with the characters.  It was easy to put them in a variety of situations and know which way they would jump when the trouble went down. 

E: What was your process like?  Do you have any outlines, reminder notes, whatnot, or did you just jump right in and see where you ended up?

S: My writing process has become more and more organized.  I believe that plotting is extremely helpful in the mystery genre.  There are just certain things that absolutely have to happen at certain points in the book.  I also don’t have a lot of alone time to write, two kids and the husband and all, so I need to make the most of what I’ve got.  It does me no good to get halfway through a chapter and then realize I needed to do it differently.  My last outline was actually color coded to include the main mystery, the subplot, and key elements in the character’s development.  That method helped me see where the story lagged and how to move the action around to keep the momentum.

E: You just finished up a new book, too.  We have words for people like you.  Luckily, I was taught not to repeat them in public.  I’m kidding.  Sort of.  Can you tell us about it?

S: Oh, I am so happy to have just finished the first draft of a new series.  The working title is The Witches of Greasy Creek.  It is a mix of murder and Appalachian Granny-magic.  It has taken me six months to research, plot, and write.  It was a blast to research.  I found out all kinds of interesting things!  For instance, if you want to curse somebody, all you have to do is think about them while you burn some cornbread.  Then, you just toss the cornbread to the birds.  My sweet mother has been burning cornbread and feeding it to the birds for years.  It makes me wonder what she was really up to this whole time!  

E: Who has been your biggest influence with your writing?

S: The best writing advice I have found comes from Chuck Wendig.  He has an amazing blog at  He’s not for everyone.  He curses like a drunk sailor that has had something heavy drop on his foot.  His advice is dead-on and often laugh-out-loud funny.   I go back and reread his books periodically to get me motivated.  It works. 

E: This one is unspeakably cruel.  That’s why I’m going to ask it.  If you could only read one more book ever, which book would you choose and why?

At this point Susan stares at me openmouthed with an “I can’t believe you just asked me that” look on her face. 

S: I can’t believe you just asked me that!  No really, this one isn’t quite as hard as you would think.  I have at least narrowed it down to one author.  Hands down it has to be Terry Pratchett.  I love that man.  I have read everything he has ever written.  I would read a grocery list if he wrote it down.   My favorites are the witch books.  I would choose Wyrd Sisters.  Or maybe I would choose Witches Abroad.  Or Maskerade.  Or Lords and Ladies.  Okay, I’ll have to think about this one some more.

E: What’s one thing that you know now that you wish you had known when you were starting out?

S:  Honestly, I wish I would have known how kind other authors are.  I thought being a writer meant being alone at the computer, which is true, but even then you don’t have to go it alone.  I’ve met so many authors on Facebook that have really helped me not only with my work, but with my life.  I’m a member of the Knoxville Writers Guild and I have an amazing writing partner that meets with me once a week.  I read her stuff and she reads mine.  Getting a novel ready to submit is hard work, finding a publisher is hard work.  It’s nice to know you don’t have to do it all by yourself.  Authors are awesome people.   

The new book comes out May 1, so why not check out the first two books while you wait?  Susan also has a short story based on the same characters.  You can find Susan on her website, blog, and Twitter.  We now return you to your previously scheduled programming.

Drumroll Please…My Chaucer Project

Some of you might recall me complaining about this Chaucer project I was assigned.  I am pleased to say that I completed it over the weekend, so I thought I might share it with you so you finally know why I’ve been complaining so much.  😀

I’m not going to bore you with the report that went with this, but there was a six page report that went with this.  The assignment was to choose a tale, adapt it to fit within the major themes of the Canterbury Tales, write a Prologue to the tale to insert the new tale, and finish with an Epilogue to transition out of it.  I decided to give the tale to the Yeoman to tell, he tells his tale after the Cook’s tale (which, coincidentally, is my favorite), and I’ve modified the tale so that it addresses the Knight’s tale, the Miller’s tale, the Reeve’s tale, and the Wife of Bath’s tale.  And because I am a serious overachiever, I wrote the tale in iambic pentameter and in heroic couplets to mimic the construction of the Canterbury Tales.  The tale I chose was The Tinderbox by Hans Christian Anderson.


“Well wasn’t that an interesting tale,”

The Host said as they went upon the trail

“But I had more to say,” the cook replied

“We haven’t time for more,” the Host then lied,

“We must continue on to someone new.

Good Yeoman, we have not yet heard from you.

Is there a tale that you could tell us now

To adequately quit these folks somehow?”

“I do believe there is one I could tell,

And if it’s bad then may I rot in Hell.”



Here begins the Yeoman’s tale:



A soldier marching home along the road

And burdened he was under such a load

As was his knapsack and his sharpened sword

He walked because it’s all he could afford.

Along the way he met a frightful witch

Who said, “Good Sir, would you like to be rich?

There is a place inside this hollow tree

That no one knows.  It’s known only to me,

And deep inside there sits atop a chest

A dog with teacup eyes, and there he rests.

But do not worry, Sir.  He’ll cause no harm.

He’ll give no cause for you to be alarmed.

I give to you this apron checked with blue

And tell you to the dot what you must do.

First, spread the apron out upon the ground

And take the dog off of the chest you’ve found

And place him on the apron, he’ll sit still,

And will not move while you your pockets fill.

Be warned this chest holds only copper here

But if you want for silver, never fear

For in the second room you’ll find inside

A chest, and on its lid there will reside

A dog with eyes like plates, but as before

Spread out the apron, lay it on the floor

And set the dog atop it, he’ll not twitch.”

And so the soldier listened to the witch

And heard her tell of gold coins he could take

If either of those coins he would forsake.

And place the last dog with the grandest eyes

–The largest towers could not match their size!—

Upon her blue checked apron on the ground

And fill his pockets with the coins he found.

“I’ll do it,” said the soldier, “but one thing—

How many of the coins am I to bring

And give to you?  What constitutes your share?”

The witch just laughed and said, “I have no care

For gold and silver coins inside a tree.

There is one thing that you may bring to me.

A tinderbox. That’s all I’ll ask of you.

And if you bring it to me, we’ll be through,

But you must make this promise, swear this vow.”

“I’ll do this thing for you and do it now,”

He swore and wound some rope around his waist.

He climbed the tree and dropped inside with haste

And found the chamber doors as she foretold

And grabbed all of the coins that he could hold.

The soldier filled his pockets to the brim

And grabbed the tinderbox to take with him

He climbed out of the tree and found the crone

Waiting for him silently alone.

He asked, “What do you plan to do with this?”

She only waved her hand as to dismiss

The question that he had no right to ask

Since he agreed to do for her this task.

“Give me the box,” said she. “You made a deal.”

“You’ll answer what I ask, or else you’ll feel

My sword. Now answer what I want to know.”

“You give to me what you brought from below.”

His answer was to cut away her head

He took the box, the coins, and went ahead

To walk the road until he came to town.

He found a place to put his burdens down

Inside an inn where he could take his rest

With clothes and food, he only bought the best.

He purchased lavish fabrics, gifts, and more,

And always had a gold piece for the poor.

He heard about a princess in her tower

As delicate and pretty as a flower.

The soldier longed for her to be his bride

But she was not allowed to be outside.

The king had learned of ancient prophesy

A soldier off to war across the sea

Would return home and make his child a wife.

He would not let her lead that lowly life,

To see his princess and a soldier wed

And have that soldier enter her in bed.

There was no one allowed to see her face

And common men must learn their proper place.

He had no choice, he must obey his king

But vowed one day that she would wear his ring.

His gold was running low and soon was gone

The friendly invitations were withdrawn

And no one came to see him at his room

He tried in vain to chase away the gloom

By striking flint across the tinderbox.

Before his eyes came bursting through the locks,

The dog with teacup eyes came to his call

And said he’d retrieve items great and small.

The soldier sent the dog to bring more gold

And he returned with all that he could hold.

So thought the soldier what more could he bring?

It swore it could retrieve most anything.

And then he knew what he desired most

He sent the teacup eyed dog like a ghost

Into the tower where the princess sleeps

And silently the dog went through the keep

Until the princess’ room he found at last

He carried her asleep across the grass

And brought her to the soldier to his glee

Before he disappeared back to his tree.

The teacup eyed dog made this trip each night

And took her to her room before first light

The princess thought she was just having dreams

And did not know they were more than they seemed.

She told her nanny one day over tea

And with the princess nanny did agree

That these were nothing more than dreams at night

But nanny told the king about her flight

He ordered her to follow where they went

And creeping through the shadows where she bent

To keep herself from drawing the dog’s stare

The dog, it seemed, had known that she was there

So when the nanny marked the soldier’s door

The dog went out and drew on several more.

The king’s men went to where the nanny said

And followed her exactly where she led

But they soon saw that all the doors were marked

And they returned from where they had embarked

To tell the king that in his quest they failed

Against the men’s incompetence he railed

And told them that he had a better plot.

He tied some silken pieces in a knot

And with some scissors cut a corner tip

So barley flour was able to slip

And mark the path the princess took at night

The king did find her come the morning light.

The king’s men seized the soldier as he fell

And locked him in a dark and dingy cell.

They told him he would hang, this much was sworn

When roosters cuckooed that the night was morn.

They led him through the streets, his head was bowed

And when he saw an orphan in the crowd

He asked him to retrieve his tinderbox

To go back to his room, undo the locks

And bring it back to him before he died

The orphan soon returned back to his side

And slipped it to the soldier at the rope

Who said, “Good folks, I don’t have any hope

So I would ask that you grant one demand

That I could smoke before the Kind’s command

Will kill me dead.” The crowd said that he could

And so before the hangman slipped his hood

Over his head he struck the box three times

Before the church’s bells could sing their chimes

The dogs, all three of them, came to his aid

And all of them did just as they were bade.

They killed the judge, the hangman, and the King

They spared no one, and when they did this thing

The princess was the only one alive

Whose claim to royal blood was to survive.

The soldier said to her, “You’ll be my bride”

And even though the princess stood and cried

The soldier married her inside the square,

Declared himself the king and swore to spare

The common lives if they would but obey.

And so began his rule that summer day.

Here ends the Yeoman’s tale.

“Well done, well done indeed” the Reeve exclaimed.

“That soldier was entitled to his fame.”

The Miller and the Knight said naught, nor smiled

As one by one the pilgrim’s horses filed.

So there you have it.  I’m so glad I’m done with it.

Recommend It Monday–Author Interview with Max Booth III

Today I’ve conned….er, asked…I mean asked Max Booth III to stop on by for a chat.  Funny, but I thought he’d be taller.

No matter what he says, I'm not responsible for the picture.  Don't look at me like that.  I had nothing to do with it.

No matter what he says, I’m not responsible for the picture. Don’t look at me like that. I had nothing to do with it.

E: So Max, welcome to my lair…er, blog.  That’s what I meant.  Blog. 

M: Blog? Then why all the torture devices? Wait, whose blood is that? What? No, I’m not going to put that on!

E: You’ve got a ton of things going on at the moment.  Why don’t we start with Perpetual Motion Machine Publishing, what you do there, and the latest collection you released, So it Goes: a Tribute to Kurt Vonnegut.

M: I am the editor-in-chief of PMMP, and the co-founder (along with my partner, Lori Michelle). It is mainly a two-person operation, with some additional assistance by Jay Wilburn, T. Fox Dunham, and Laramore Black.

Lori’s duties involve bookkeeping, layout design, book formatting, and other various odds and ends. She does an amazing job—if you want proof, you need to check out our upcoming title, Sirens by Kurt Reichenbaugh. The interior of that book rocks. As for me, I read all the submissions, do most of the editing, maintain our various social media outlets—stuff like that. But really, it’s a company that could not exist without both myself and Lori doing what we’re doing. It’s like a seesaw, you need both sides to balance the weight.

So it Goes: a Tribute to Kurt Vonnegut is the first volume in a series of anthologies that we are publishing through Perpetual Motion Machine Publishing. It is a book composed of 22 short stories by a ton of great, talented authors who just wanted to honor one of their favorite authors. And let me tell you, their stories—they blew me away. We are actually currently holding a contest for the book: if you review it in a specific style, you will be entered in a raffle to win a $50 Amazon gift card. Click here for the details.

E: Have you done any other tribute collections?  Do you have any planned for the future?

M: Actually, right now I am accepting submissions for Volume 2 in the Tribute series—Long Distance Drunks: a Tribute to Charles Bukowski  . The deadline for submitting isn’t until December 31, so there is plenty of time to get a story in. I hope to do one of these every year. They are a lot of fun to put together.

E: You mentioned before that you have a bizarro book coming out in June.  What the heck is bizarro, and what’s the name of your book?

M: The book is called They Might Be Demons, and it isn’t being published until this June by Dark Moon Books. I actually didn’t know that it was classified under the “bizarro” genre until after I finished it and someone else told me, so now you understand how important genre titles really are to me. But basically, bizarro is bizarre, weird, humorous, crazy-ass fiction that no normal human being should ever have to consume.

they might be demons

They Might Be Demons can be considered both a story collection and a novel. It is a series of short flash fiction stories with interconnecting plot-lines and characters. It all takes place in the same town, on the same day. The stories can be read in any order and they would stand out on their own, but if you read the book in chronological order, it forms a loose novel. The basic question that is behind the book is: what if Hell one day decided to take a vacation—and what if their vacation spot happened to be a small, unsuspecting USA town in the middle of nowhere?

E: Any other projects in the works that we should know about?

M: Oh, yes. Too many, in fact. Seriously, I am dying of work overload here. But let’s see. On the editing front, I am reading submissions for two anthologies: Long Distance Drunks and Truth or Dare? An All Hallows’ Eve Anthology. The latter book won’t be released until October 2014 (through PMMP), but I am already really freaking excited about it. It’ll be featuring original stories from people like Ray Garton and Benjamin Kane Ethridge and Richard Thomas, along with other prominent names in the game that I can’t talk about yet. I will also be co-editing an all horror poetry anthology soon with Stan Swanson for Dark Moon Books; look for the open call within the next couple weeks.

As for my own personal writing, I have They Might Be Demons coming out in June. My debut book, True Stories Told By a Liar was released last November. I have a nonfiction book called The Ultimate Survival Guide for Humanity (co-edited with Stan Swanson) coming out early 2014. I have two other novels finished and being considered by publishers: Black Cadillacs Outside a Funeral and The Mind is a Razorblade.


I am currently working on four different novels, each one at a different stage of completion. Drinking Whiskey with Dead Pretentious Authors is my main focus at the moment. It tells the story of a night auditor and aspiring author who begins hanging out with famous deceased writers; like Charles Bukowski and Ernest Hemingway, for example.

Light Chasers is the first and possibly only zombie novel I will ever write. Think of it as Dawn of the Dead meets Deadwood. It’s a little over halfway finished, but I’ve taken a break until I can bring myself to write about zombies again. I find them exhausting sometimes.

I am also in the process of co-authoring two books. One of them is basically The Amazing Race if Christopher Moore was the host and it featured mythological gods. That one I’m writing with Araminta Star Matthews.

The other book, Figment, I am co-authoring with ‘Anna DeVine. I don’t want to say much about that one at the moment, except that it will most likely be the most intense book I’ve ever been attached to.

E: PMMP just released a poetry book.  I just finished a poetry book.  Isn’t that…interesting?

At this point, Max just shifts uncomfortably in his chair and remarks about the wonderful weather we’re having today.

E: I can take a hint.  Sheesh.  So, outside of horror and bizarro, are there any other genres you like to dabble in?

M: I really like crime fiction. Elmore Leonard is my god. I’ve been writing a lot of neo-noir stuff lately, which translates to “new black”. I also have 17 erotica novels published under my penname—“Johnny McSex, Esquire.”

E: Who are some of the authors who have influenced you?

M: Well like I previously mentioned, I am a big fan of Elmore Leonard. Same goes with the usual suspects—Stephen King, Joe Hill, Kurt Vonnegut, John Steinbeck, Jack Ketchum, Chuck Palahniuk, etc. Other writers that are still making a name for themselves that constantly influence me in my own writing would be Joe McKinney, Stephen Graham Jones, Richard Thomas, Craig Wallwork, T. Fox Dunham, and Jay Wilburn. Including a ton more I don’t have time to name. They are all great.

E: Since you’re on both sides of the publication fence, are there any pet peeves of yours as a publisher that you’d like people to stop doing?

M: If a publisher has any specific guidelines on their submissions, it is most likely for an actual reason. If you ignore the guidelines and just blindly submit, you’re not doing yourself a favor. So—just start paying better attention to submission guidelines. Oh, and for the love of God, stop putting two spaces after every sentence. We no longer live in the dark ages, people.

E: One last thing before you go: pie or cake?

M: This question has left me emotionally drained, so I am going to choose cheesecake, since that is sort of a combination of both. I just can’t pick between the two. They are equally delicious and they both stand the chance of giving me diabetes.

Well played, my friend.  Well played.  Max can be founded lurking in the shadows of Facebook, Twitter, and on his own website.

The Finish Line is in Sight

I’m finally caught up enough on everything that I’m no longer freaking out about it on a regular basis.  If you are in the area and would like to go, there is a reading at The Well on April 28th (next Sunday) at 2pm.  I’ll be the featured reader at that event and I plan to read the first chapter of Celia, my short story “Blood and Rain,” and if there is time, a couple of the shorter pieces from Some Reassembly Required.  If you are local and would like to read at this event, there are some open slots left, so leave a comment or send me an email, or invite me over for refreshments and let me know.  I can get you in touch with the proper people for that.

Graduation is just over two weeks away.  The ceremony will be held on May 7th at the Joyce Athletic Center on Notre Dame campus at 7pm.  It’s free, so if anyone would like to attend that, you are most welcome to.  I hope to have some pictures, so I’ll post a couple so you can see my spiffy honors cords.  😀

One Small Change

It was pointed out to me that perhaps the name of my poetry book isn’t completely accurate.  I considered this for a moment and decided that was, indeed, the case.  So, I’m modifying the title slightly.  Be sure to look for Some Reassembly Required later on this year.

On a Personal Note…

I don’t normally post much on here about strictly personal things, but I’m making an exception.  My son Jarod turns 10 today.  It’s a big deal, going from 9 to 10.  He’ll never be a single digit age ever again.  I fully expect to cry at some point today.  I would not be surprised if it lasted a while.



I lost all my current pictures of him when my hard drive died, so I’ll have to take some more so I can post a recent one.  My baby’s almost a man.  /tear