Sunday night as I write this. I’m sitting amid the rubble of a whole weekend spent doing illustration. Pencils. Colored pencils. Scissors. Kneaded erasers. Tortillons. Paints. Odorless paint thinner. Markers. Tissue paper. Illustration board. Reference photos. As I say, rubble.<\/p>\n
And all this is strewn across the standard rubble that quickly takes over life when you live in a fifth-wheel and have to work, eat, and Web surf at the same tiny table.<\/p>\n
It’s so bad at the moment that when my fellow hermit Joel came over for dinner earlier he not only had to cook it himself — outside — in the rain. But then we had to eat at his place because I didn’t have the energy to clear a spot.<\/p>\n
I expect he didn’t mind too much. Dinner was filet mignon. Completely wrapped in bacon and grilled to perfection on my beloved Pyromid. (Gawd, I love this paleo diet!<\/i>)<\/p>\n
Anyhow, the illustration, in case you care to know, is for Backwoods Home<\/i>. They asked me to do the cover for the upcoming Hardyville book, and inexperienced though I am, how could I refuse that? BTW, they apologize that the book’s not out yet, but it’s moving right along now and the people to whom I promised copies last March shouldn’t have to wait more than a month or two.<\/p>\n
BUT. All that means I’m too darned tired to collect Monday miscellany links, and waaaaay too darned tired to write Brilliant Thoughts.<\/p>\n
So I’ll leave you with a short little video I borrowed from Radley Balko’s blog. It’s not only 44 of the most cheery seconds you’re likely to have today; it’s a 44-second object lesson in the differences between cops in the U.S. and cops in less brutal places. This is what happens<\/a> when you point a video camera at a police officer in Sweden<\/i>. (Hint: He doesn’t beat you up, erase your video, and charge you with disorderly conduct, illegal wiretapping, or interfering with an investigation.)<\/p>\n I hope I’ll be up to More Intelligent Things shortly. In the meantime, I’m sore, tired, and buried in too much stuff to think.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Sunday night as I write this. I’m sitting amid the rubble of a whole weekend spent doing illustration. Pencils. Colored pencils. Scissors. Kneaded erasers. Tortillons. Paints. Odorless paint thinner. Markers. Tissue paper. Illustration board. Reference photos. As I say, rubble. And all this is strewn across the standard rubble that quickly takes over life when you live in a fifth-wheel and have to work, eat, and Web surf at the same tiny table. It’s so bad at the moment that when my fellow hermit Joel came over for dinner earlier he not only had to cook it himself — outside…<\/p>\n