Can you make a Thanksgiving at a restaurant?

It may be a silly thought. I’m sure that people do make a happy Thanksgiving at restaurants every year. And probably have for as long as there have been restaurants and Thanksgiving.

In my case, I have been luckier.  Ever since before I was born, my family has held Thanksgiving dinner at home.  For the past 59 years, at my mothers home. Sometimes it was just a few of us, other times there were tables set up all over the house. But it was always at my mother’s house.

And although this delighted me, it was not always a hit with my former wives.  But still it was tradition that reached back into my past much farther than they did. And I was inflexible.

Other holidays have fallen.  Mother’s day, Easter, and last year even Christmas, all home cooked meals that were outsourced, not to carry in, but to dine out. I didn’t complain.  I realized that if I was in my late 50’s that put my mother in her early 80’s.  Cleaning and cooking for holidays is hard work.  It doesn’t matter if it’s for five or thirty family and a dozen or so strays and their families that my mother would befriend and, for a day, make them feel as at home and as much a part of the family as I did. 

We all pitched in to help cook and prepare. But it just got to be too much. So one at a time the holidays fell.  But no matter what happened I still had Thanksgiving.

Until today.

Now I realize that thanksgiving is celebrated across the United States.  And everybody SAYS that it is a day to reflect on friends and family and the few or many gifts life had bestowed on you. People SAY that, but I felt it.  I didn’t realize just how much I felt it until my Mother told me about two weeks ago that she and my youngest brother were looking for a restaurant to make thanksgiving reservations.

I smiled.  I don’t know why I smiled. I certainly didn’t feel like smiling, I felt like running around the room like a spoiled three year old, smashing thing indiscriminately and screaming “No, no, no, no, no!!! “ 

But I smiled.  I offered other alternative and the discussion was long, but in the end fruitless.  Today my mother, my brothers, our sons, and even a new great grandson ate thanksgiving dinner… out.

It took me a while to wrap my head around it.  And I am not a good enough actor to hide my displeasure in the entire affair.  We had eaten many meals at this particular restaurant before and the food had always been good. 

Today I didn’t like a bite of it. However, I couldn’t tell you if it was any good.  I didn’t taste it. I did my best to make light of everything that I was hating, but I’m not sure I fooled anyone.  It wasn’t a tantrum, It wasn’t moping. My thanksgiving was broken and I was realizing that it wasn’t the food.

Since I was nine or so, my brothers and I had been living in a true matriarchy.  My mother was the head of the family.  You just didn’t say no, because you never wanted to disappoint her.  My middle brother traveled from across country to see her.  His eldest son and my eldest son brought their families from states away to see her too.  And my mother was now eighty-three. 

The three hundred pound gorilla sitting in my lap was not about loosing a home cooked meal.  It was about loosing my mother and perhaps my family. Would we still gather in years to come after my mother was gone. Or would we, like so many other families be relegated to seeing each other only during some five or ten year reunion. 

These are questions to which I have no answer. I cannot answer. It’s not just up to me.

So the next gathering is Christmas.  And we will be eating out.  But my attitude will be different. I won’t be secretly grousing about the food.  Because the food won’t matter.  The place will not matter.  Only holding my family close for as long as I can will matter.  And marking every moment we share together.

And that will matter most.

Be Well.

The New Look and New Name

Saguaro Cactus, Mesquite and Turpentine bushes

So I figured that it was time that I stop lying to myself (not about anything important), but about this Blog.  It was never going to be any kind of serious discussion of animation. Thus far there is hardly any reference to animation at all.

So as Google again changed the format of Blogger, I thought it was a good time to change the format of my Blog as well.

I have no idea what I'm doing, but that never stopped me before.

The background picture is my first lie.  Titled "backyard" or something, it's actually about a mile or so north of my house.  If you'd like to see more, just Google "phoenix mountain preserve saguaro" and select images.  They are outrageous cactus and grow in a very limited area. I intend to change the picture occasionally if I get out with my camera.

If you are reading this Blog and you are not ON Blogger, then you probably are not seeing the pictures anyway.

The only thing I regret about changing the Blog is that I lost the pendulum clock that told visitors the time in Arizona, which doesn't change (we don't need no stinking daylight savings). I miss the ticking and the chimes on the hour and half hour.  It was a nice reminder of just how much time I was wasting.  But I cannot seem to get Blogger to accept the gadget again.

As for the entries, they will be whatever comes to mind, I suppose.  I have no great plan.  No mission.  And no agenda.  

I hope these changes find you well.  And I hope you stop by the Blog, the real one...
http://distorteddogma.blogspot.com/  and leave me a reply or comment.

I'm also working on some new cartoons for my YouTube channel http://www.youtube.com/user/distorteddogma 

So, enough.  Time to move on to something more interesting.  Whatever that will be.

Be Well.

Haunting Halloweens

The 2002 entrance to the haunted tent

When I was younger, about 1973- 75, I devoted months of my life to a Haunted House in Willowick Ohio.  It was put on by the JC organization and staffed by volunteers.  Admission was $1, half that if you were under 12.  

Times have changed. Now to enter haunted houses can be as much as $20.

Halloween was always a big thing for me.  Later it was dressing up my own house with all kinds of figures and lights, spiders, webs, skulls, and carved pumpkins everywhere.

When my youngest son was in grade school, they had a fund raiser 
Halloween party. Every year I did something for them. Usually some kind of entrance to the tent they used, just to set the mood.  (see the photo above)

Now my participation is simpler.  I put out a few decorations and pass out treats to whomever comes to the door.  Part of me misses the "big deal" of it all,  but then I see the little face of a first time trick-or-treater. The awe and wonder of getting all dressed up and going house to house, seeing all the strangers and getting sweet treats...

..and I'm young and happy again.

May the Great Pumpkin bestow happiness upon your little pumpkin patch.

Be Well.

Taking No Hostages...

So I have been absent for over a year and a half, partly because I've been busy, but mostly because I did not feel that I had anything to say that anyone would be interested in reading.  Even if someone was reading.

Simply put, I had a series of major changes in my life, all linked, and happening in what seemed to me to be a rapid succession of cause and effect. 

I was happy about none of it.   

So what to do with my now empty days and nights?  

My kitchen more or less BEFORE

Call all my friends and cry on their shoulders until they began avoiding me? Nah. 

Write it all out here so my private life would be spooled on so many backup tapes and archived for a hundred years? Again, nah. 

Maybe curl up in a fetal position on my bed at night and cry myself through it all?  

Definitely, nah.

Instead I did something that I had been wanting to do for a very long time, but my ex and I could never agree on what was to be done....  I remodeled my house. Not that I could afford it, but thanks to some timely offers of deferred interest from some local do-it-yourself retailers, I pulled it off.

So days at work and working nights.  It took eleven months. If I could have rustled up some more credit, I'd still be at it.

More or less AFTER

Some rooms got just paint, others got more.  Ceiling fans, light fixtures, paint, furniture, drapes, floors, cabinets.. nothing was sacred.  For the first few months, my right hand held little but a three pound sledge hammer.  I had lived in this house for nearly nineteen years and had changed only the laundry room and a bathroom.  Now those were the only rooms semi safe (although the bathroom did get a change of towels and shower curtain). The kitchen would be the biggest change. Lights, cabinets, floors, ceiling, counter tops... the works.

This would be my sanctuary, my therapy, the route to a new life.  I would do it myself (which I did about 98%). I would not go down, and if I did, I was not taking anybody down with me.

No hostages.

Having a head cold is not the same as having a cool head

 I hope you will excuse my recent absence as the New Year has brought me the opportunity to explore the staggering semi-liquid production capacity of my nasal passages in the form of a whopping great head cold.  A journey which I continue this morning.  

I have also been struck by the amazing resistance, which my affliction exhibits, to all forms of remedy, store bought names, generics, and home styled.  No matter the active ingredient, nor the manufacturer, all seem to be totally ineffective.  

At one point it was suggested that it might be an allergy and not a cold at all.  But alas, Allergy meds from A to Z have also been tried only to find their way to the kitchen dustbin in miserable failure.

Felled by my cold have been boxes of various name brand facial tissues, all of which I now equate to the coarsest and most abrasive sand paper.

No sneezing, no “itchy eye,” no fever, or ache, just a continuous production of ever changing colors and consistencies as tissues by the truckload are filled and tossed away.

So excuse me for not participating in all the resolutions, hoopla, and joy exhibited by some.  I'm just not up for it right now.  

Happy Fricken New Year.

Yellow Ink

My brand not pictured

I needed an ink cartridge.  My printer was insisting that it could not go on until the yellow ink cartridge, which had run out, was replaced.  It insisted on this even though the tax document I was attempting to print contained no yellow.

Unable to convince the stubborn machine otherwise, I headed out for our local office supply store.  The printer is not a newer unit (more than two years old...imagine), so the outlets available to buy new ink are limited.   Why not replace it with a newer model?  It works very well, it's connected to our little intranet and everyone uses it.  It also has, what seems to be a vanishing attribute, a straight through paper path.  What I mean is, the media that you are printing on does not need to bend as it moves through the printer.  This is very handy when printing business cards, clear vellum sheets for overhead projection and other media that is not simple #20 inkjet paper.

I had a different brand of printer that had only two initials as a name and it had a folding paper path.  the continual jams, stutters, and waist brought about its sad and untimely demise on the office floor.   With a few kicks to be sure the beast was dead, I went and bought the printer we are still using today.

The one that is currently out of yellow ink.

I hear on the TV and radio how poorly the economy is doing and how retailers are struggling to get by with a skeleton staff.  Its very hard for them to keep the doors open.  You could not prove it by the parking lot of the mall outside the office supply store. Its 114 degrees in the shade (of which there is none) and the lot is full to brimming over. 

Cars are parked on any available open spot, marked or not, making the search for an open spot more like the "Dodge-um" amusement park ride than a .. well... search for an open parking spot.  After circling the lot and watching the temperature gauge on my old minivan slowly climb towards the red line, I finally slip into a spot that is not completely out of sight of the office supply store.

Victory! 

"Too bad for you, slackers," I smile as other cars pass by my old van with heated scowls.  For a moment, I actually entertained the idea of realigning my parked vehicle in its spot, just to watch the circling parking piranhas come flying together only to be disappointed as my van slipped back into the same parking spot.  Muhahahaha!

But the moment passes and I pause to survey the trek ahead of me across the hot asphalt.  I should have brought water. 

And maybe a camel.

Crossing the parking lot is no easy task.  Pass between parked vehicles is safe enough, so long as you watch where and in what you are stepping.  I learned long ago the little green puddles can be as slippery as sheets of ice and catching your balance by placing bare skin on a sun baked, painted car hood can be just as painful as landing on the asphalt.  But the most dangerous by far is crossing the streams.  Referred to as "access drives" or "lanes" by the uninitiated, they are streams filled with creatures more deadly and unpredictable than anything in the rivers of Africa or the Amazon jungle... impatient drivers.   Some are on the hunt for a parking spot, others attempting to escape the mall altogether.  Each are equally desperate.  Each are equally dangerous should an opening arise with you in between them and their intended target.  Having just been one of the pack, I wave them by, patient waiting for my opening to cross. 

Sweat is running down my back as I enter the store and a chill runs through me as I plunge my body into 78 degree conditioned air.  I'm greeted with a hollow "welcome to ..." by one of the minimum wage drones behind the service counter who does not even look up to see me as she speaks.  I make no attempt to get her attention or even reply, but make my way to the aisle with its perforated gondolas filled with ink cartridges in sealed plastic hangers.  All the brands are here and even some generic refill kits.  And my brand hangs right here....

Hey.  It's gone.

"Can I help you" asks a young girl covered in her "Big Box Store" smock.

"My ink is gone," I say pointing to a display now filled with another brand.

"We moved those down here," she says as she leads me to the far end of the aisle.

"But its not here either," I say as my eyes dart from one packaged ink to another, "its the one with a guitar on the box."

"Those are over here," she says point to an opposite row.  "Personally, I don't like those because its hard to read the box."

"It has a guitar on the box.  Its the only one with a guitar on the box.  Others have horses, or butterflies, or something, but only one has a guitar on the box."  My explanation failed to impress her.  "There are only singles here," I pointed out questioningly.  "Where are the multipacks?"

"I don't know," she said, "we might have them online."

I thought of my printer which is stopped mid page and demanding an ink cartridge which it did not need.  Could it sit that way while I wait for ink to be delivered?  I shook off the thought and resigned myself to paying $20 for a single ink cartridge.  I would find the multipacks somewhere else, perhaps online...

Producing the proper "member" card saved me nothing, but it did inform the management that there was still someone stupid enough to be buying ink single packs and just who that idiot was.  I maneuvered my way back to my old van and cautiously opened the door to allow the trapped heat to escape without singeing the hair in my mustache and eyebrows.  And a mere 20 minutes later I was approaching the exit. 

Back at my office I was greeted by my printer, still stopped mid-page, its little green and red lights blinking.  I pressed the red flashing button and the ink carriage swung out into the open where I could pop out the old yellow cartridge and snap the new one into place.  The printer jumped into life and ran its cleaning cycle to bring the new cartridge online, thereby being ready to not print yellow in the twenty-five page black and white tax form still in my computers print buffer.

Cleaning...

Cleaning...

AH! Here it goes.  The print head swings into position, data begins to move, and the computer beeps and stops. 

It would seem that the head cleaning was all that remained of the light cyan.

The Elusive "Good" Story

What makes a story good, what makes it sell?

Is it characters? Believable three dimensional characters that you can somehow feel have more life than is spelled out in the story?

Is it plot? An expertly designed plotline carefully laid out, step by step, doling out information in cautious spoonfuls, enough to keep you engaged but not give away too much and have the listener/ watcher/ reader jump ahead to the conclusion.

Is it the setup, the design and deliberate detail to sights, smells, and tastes?

Dialogue? Although bad dialogue can surely kill a story, could great dialogue alone save a bad one?

Is it all of these mechanics that work together, methodically built from research, to outline, to manuscript, following all the rules so rigidly set forth in one writing class after another? The right number of characters, the perfect setting, the correct number of twists in the plot, all the details that can be squeezed into the perfectly build story.

Is that what makes a story good? Makes you want to read, watch, listen to it the first time and go back and start again?

There are piles of manuscripts which stand unread. Perfect to the letter in every way. Every rule followed, all the I’s dotted and the T’s crossed. And yet, there they sit.

Is it that the story, truly is, in the telling?

Scene 1 Background Painting

Although I would love to say that the activities pictured in my previous blog were being repeated again this year, it's just not the case. Due to a series of sob stories which I will not burden you with, my vacation is a "stay-cation", as in stay at home.

But one good thing has come out of it. In the last week I finally finished the background design for the first sequence in my fall holiday cartoon. One that I started last year and didn't even come close to finishing anything but the dance movement study (Which you can see as "Not Quite A Nutcracker" on the second page of this Blog or on YouTube).

The frame above is actually eleven layers which will be animated separately to create the illusion of 3D space. There are details (such as stars and such) which are only added in the final shot. All in all I expect this painting to be on screen for about 10 seconds or so.

And that is why cartooning alone take so much time.

Be Well.

Karen's Gypsy

The illustration at left was not done by me. Although I wish I had. It was done by my wife, Karen, a very talented scenic artist. This was done on a software platform called "Dabbler 2." By Fractal Design. It's rare for her to work on such a small scale as most of what she does is on a 30 X 60 foot muslin drop (I get her to give me some photos and I'll do a separate blog on painting really BIG.

I on the other hand have always been a cartoonist. Event the most serious sketches I have done always have a cartoon edge to them. That's why animation interests me so. I have piles of files of ideas that didn't work. My biggest problem is time, and perhaps I'm a bit lazy. My reason or excuse is that I have already put in 8 to 10 hours by the time I get home from work, then spend time with the pets, the family and dinner, and it's getting late. The job starts early.

The type of sketch cartoon I want to do does not really lend itself to the "cut-out" style of cartooning I have done so far. My attempts at drawing each frame ends up with me finishing a few seconds of animation after literally months of nights with my eyes watering as I try to finish one more frame before I go to bed.

Thus far none of the animations I started this way ever got anywhere. By the time it's just starting to take shape, I'm bored with the story and I'm ready to move on. What I need is to find a way to meld the two disciplines and figure out when to use which to move the story along.

But I have time, I think, thus far it's been an expensive hobby, but I've enjoyed myself.

From A Beginner Animator

I joined YouTube in 2007 planning to use it as an outlet for all the cartoons I would be making. It would be wondrous with a fantastic following.

And it almost happened that way.

The problem was, when I opened my YouTube "Channel" I knew almost nothing about creating cartoons. I had jumped in and was not prepared at all. At my disposal was Paint Shop Pro (Which was still owned by Jasc back then and was a lovely paint and photo program for $99 US) and The Microsoft Movie Editor which came with Windows® XP. Not much in the way of tools, but I had to come up with some sort of place holder for my channel. And this is what I posted:




It's still there actually, even though it's a rough bit of animation, it was, after all, my first.

I began to search for animation programs, not knowing what the heck I was looking for. I'm married and the father of two sons, so I had a tiny budget for starting a new "hobby." What I thought I wanted was Macromedia Flash, but I was surprised to find that it had been eaten by Adobe® and was now out of my price range (See? I wasn't a complete idiot, I did do some research). Any way pirate software was out, because I don't believe in it. A craftsman is worth his wages and all that (but not necessarily the triple wages Adobe was asking). Obviously Maya, 3d studio, and all were right out of my price range and I wasn't sure that 3D was something I should jump into. I mean, don't you need to crawl before you can walk? I came across ToonBoom. I got my first copy of ToonBoom Studio on sale for $250 US (it's $299. now). After pouring through the video tutorials and making several false starts, Two months later my first real cartoon/vlog appeared:





It was up on YouTube just a few weeks later when Lisasimpson, acting as a guest editor, she chose it to be featured on YouTube's front page. A very big deal in those days. At the same time, I had upgraded my computer hardware and the Windows installation crashed. I mean at the EXACT same time. My video went from 315 views in three weeks to 100,000 views that Sunday morning and I was oblivious to it all.

So now it's nearly 3 years later and I have uploaded a few more toons. Each takes a couple of months to build, the Vlog type are faster because I can reuse my character with only a few changes, but the long periods between uploads lost the audience. Now my toons are back where they started with a few hundred view, which is fine by me. I am still learning after all.

For the record, and through a long series of upgrades, I am now using ToonBoom Animate Pro2 as my animation platform. And although I would love to have the Adobe CS5 Production Premium Suite with all the bells and whistles, I still use Premiere Elements ($119 US) to do my editing. The FREE but extraordinary Audacity works overtime to record, edit and clean all my audio tracks. I finally bought my first version of ToonBoom Storyboard ($199 US) to help me assemble my ideas. And I would not be anywhere if it were not for the free music tracks so lovingly composed and shared by Kevin MacLeod (incompetech.com).

And the last element is time. Lots of time. I you are reading this and just starting out, you can get into playing with animation programs on a budget. There are even rudimentary or watermarked programs out there for free even ToonBoom. But be ready to give lots of time. Watch you favorite cartoon and stay for the credits. All the names that go past are positions you must fill with your own time. It is very rewarding when you get it done, but the speed of the progress, or lack of it, especially when you have a day job, was and is my biggest frustration. But if you really want to do it, you can. I did, and I still know almost nothing.

Be Well