Invaders from Mars!

About 17 years ago, give or take, I'd started seeing a new woman. We got along quite well. We had fun together. Things were going good, but there's always that period early in the relationship where you wonder if this person is The One or infatuation is making them look like a more complete package than warranted by reality. Well, for me, she clinched the deal with a birthday present for me. It wasn't expensive or elaborate, it was just a simple tee shirt (we were both poor journalists back then) but it had emblazoned on the front the spectacular 1950s-style Invaders from Mars poster you can see to the right. Marvin the Martian, you must understand, is my all-time favorite Warner Brothers animation character. I used to imitate his voice with startling accuracy. I'd once planned to make a Halloween costume of him using an old Coors Beer party ball. So that my new girlfriend would not only get me a Marvin the Martian shirt, but one so chock-full of awesome, simply blew me away.

Realize that up until this point, previous girlfriends, if they got me any kind of birthday present at all, generally limited themselves to gifts that appealed to them. Things like turtleneck sweaters or a certain brand of cologne or a CD of some band I'd never heard of but she loved (which was fine, I guess, since the CD stayed at her place and I never actually got to listen to it...). But this Martian shirt simply boggled my mind. When, in my utter shock, I managed to sputter out a half formed question asking what made her choose this particular gift, she just shrugged and said it looked like something I'd like. Now I don't think I'm a particularly secretive person. I don't hold my passions close to the vest. If anything, I'm borderline evangelical in my adoration of Godzilla, the Kinks, Farscape, Tolkien, Green Arrow, Billy Joel, Marvin the Martian, etc. But so help me, this woman was the only one who'd ever actually gotten me even that much.

So I married her. Good call on that one.

Fast forward to last night. Many birthdays, anniversaries and Christmases have come and gone, and I admit we like to shower each other with gifts probably more than is entirely healthy. Some have been more expensive or elaborate than others, some have been downright WOW-inducing, but for me, that simple Invaders from Mars shirt remained the high-water mark. I literally wore that shirt until it fell apart into tiny scraps. And then I tried to wear it just a little more, even though the screen print had long before worn away into mere hints of light and dark. I loved that shirt. No way she could top it. That is, until she gifted me with a limited edition lithograph print (signed by artist Juan Ortiz) of that very same poster, a 21x32 technicolor marvel of Marvin, K-9 and hoards of instant "Just Add Water" Martians descending from space to wreak havoc on the Looney Tunes populace. I'm going to get it framed today.

So yeah, The Wife can still surprise me. And I love her for it.

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Chicken Ranch Central

42: Life, the universe and birthdays

So, the birthday thing. I don't always do so good with them. There's lots more gray in my hair, my driver's license says I'm not allowed to drive without my glasses, and I've got a rickety gut seemingly held together with duct tape and bailing wire. All those bones I broke decades ago have started reminding me about those misadventures and generally all the parts that make up the whole aren't quite like a well-oiled machine anymore. I don't suppose I should complain much, though, as my blood pressure's good and my blood chemistry is excellent for a guy my age and weight.

Still, I'm not down with that "aging gracefully" thing. How else to describe my culinary dance with the infamous Ghost Chili last year? When you wake up and realize there are more miles behind the cart than remain in front, and the ambition of youth has given way to the lowered expectations of middle age, it ain't so easy to maintain a chipper outlook. Be that as it may, this is one birthday that isn't going to throw me into a funk. Being the science fictional geek that I am, I embrace the 42nd anniversary of my appearance upon the Earth, and celebrate the fact that our world has yet to be demolished to make way for a hyperspatial bypass. Since my accumulation of years is now equivalent to the answer to the ultimate question of life, the universe and everything I will henceforth stride boldly into the coming year with the all the enthusiastic mayhem I can muster in good conscience. After all, 42 is the last cool-numbered birthday worthy of celebrating (with the obvious exception of 69, of course, but the breakdown of the ol' chassis leaves significant doubt as to whether I'll be able to acquit myself properly as befits such an august number).

1. Finish that damn Chicken Ranch book (okay, although this list is purposefully presented in No Particular Order, this particular elephant in the proverbial room is too big to pretend it isn't no. 1. Many, many other entries on this list depend wholly or in part in getting Dumbo to fly).
   
2. Stop dwelling so much about what other people think of me. Stop censoring and limiting and restricting and misrepresenting myself in some misguided attempt to earn their approval. This does not mean I intent to turn myself into a loudmouth oaf with delusions of assholery (beyond what certain parties may already ascribe to me, that is).
   
3. Finish my in-progress short story "A Life Less Illustrated."
   
4. Be a better father and husband.
   
5. Be a better role model for my children (and no, that's not necessarily the same as no. 4, although I agree there is overlap).
   
6. Return to work on my half-finished fantasy novel, Wetsilver.
   
7. Fill out my Farscape collection with the missing episodes from season 3 I don't have.
   
8. Watch the entire run of Farscape, in order, from the pilot episode through Peacekeeper Wars (see no. 7).
   
9. Finish converting the garage into a home photography studio.
   
10. Lose 25 pounds.
    
11. Watch Deep Throat with The Wife (see no. 2).
    
12. Finish my in-progress short story "The Shoals of Cibola."
    
13. Stop yelling so much/Keep my temper under control (probably should be two entries, but they kinda go hand in hand).
    
14. Get back to that radio script I'm supposed to be writing with Mark Finn.
    
15. Learn to scuba.
    
16. Spend a long weekend in Guadalupe Mountains National Park, photographing landscapes and wildlife.
    
17. Find a publisher for Voices of Wonder, my second collected volume of genre-themed interviews.
    
18. Read Don Quixote.
    
19. Enroll in photography courses at Texas State (I pulled a 4.0 in the photography courses I took two years back, and now circumstances may allow me to take the next round).
    
20. Pull a 4.0 for the semester (see no 19).
    
21. Put together that Apollo-Soyuz model kit I bought 20 years ago.
    
22. Surprise The Wife with a Canon EF 24-70 2.8 L lens (if you see the price, you'll know why it'd be a surprise).
    
23. Read those Hunger Games books.
    
24. Finish that Green Arrow musical thing.
    
25. Buy a new car.
    
26. Publish (or rather, find a publisher for) my short story collection.
    
27. Photograph a Division I-A football game from the sidelines.
    
28. Get back to that short story I'm supposed to be writing with Chris Nakashima-Brown.
    
29. Spend the better part of a week in New Orleans with The Wife (okay, this is a cheat, since we're already booked to go to Imaging USA).
    
30. Return to, and finish, Memory, my online serial storytelling experiment.
    
31. Visit Cape Canaveral. And the Everglades while I'm at it.
    
32. If that buffoon Rick Perry wins the GOP presidential nomination, make my first-ever political contribution to any and all candidates capable of keeping that lunatic out of the White House.
    
33. Spend a long weekend in Big Bend National Park, photographing landscapes and wildlife.
    
34. Buy my dream telescope, the Meade LXD75 SN-10AT (f/4) Schmidt-Newtonian.
    
35. Begin writing Sailing Venus, my long-delayed YA novel. My kids aren't getting any younger.
    
36. Re-unite The Kinks (hey, a guy can dream).
    
37. Write that "Airships and Apes" challenge story put forth by Joe Lansdale.
    
38. See the Blue Man Group live.
    
39. Rewrite "Where the Rubber Meets the Road."
    
40. More skyrockets in flight.
    
41. Get a Canon FD 500mm f/8 reflex lens and convert it to EF mount with an Optix V5+ focus confirmation chip with "Trap Focus" feature.
    
42. Re-read The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy

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42: Friday Night Videos

This being a profound and solemn occasion and all, for the observance of my 42nd trip around the star we call the sun, I sought to come up with a song to feature on Friday Night Videos that was worthy of such an august event. Alas, I failed miserably. But not to fear! During the wedding The Wife and I photographed last week, a song played that was so jaw-dropping in its inspired genius that I was left gobsmacked. Yes, you read that right: gobsmacked! I did a little research (as the journalist in me is wont to do) and discovered the musical masterpiece was performed by none other than Mark Jonathan Davis, the singer/songwriter who gave us "Star Wars Cantina" more than a decade ago now. Now performing as Richard Cheese with his band Lounge Against the Machine, he specializes in jazz and big band versions of well-known top 40 and rock hits. Which is all fine and dandy, but it does nothing to prepare you for the reality of a bossa nova "Baby Got Back". Consider this my gift to you.


Previously on Friday Night Videos... The Violent Femmes.

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42: A momentous occasion

42: The ultimate answer to life, the universe and everything. Which is a roundabout way of saying today is my birthday. Grab your towels and don't panic. It's going to be an interesting ride.


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