Where the kids are alright

Here's a drawing originally intended as a bonus to be sent cross-country along with a tasty t-shirt via u.s. postal service. Baby jane decided it needed to be hanging up in her room. Request granted.

This summer, love has a new name

Dudes and duderellas, let it be known that plenty of wearables, etcetera, and such from the mustard room will be available for your purchasing pleasure at the summer 2011 indieana handicraft exchange. As usual, this summer's festivities will be held at the harrison center for the arts on saturday, june 11th from 12 noon to 8 o'clock in the pm. Details found hizzle.

Live from the mexican blanket

The greatest impromptu cavalcade of non-specific puppets in the known universe. Big thanks to Sir Kermit T. Frog for donating his time to make a special guest appearance.

Boy oh boy oh boy

On the 12th day of April, in the two-thousand and eleventh year of our Lord, Mister Nolan James Rockey entered this olde world weighing in at 7 pounds and 2 ounces. Mama Jane labored and delivered naturally in typical rawk star form, under the aid of zero pain meds, with myself and the always amazing Renee Furrow by her side. Cool. Calm. Collected.

What. A. Woman.

After less than twenty minutes of pushing, m'lady shouted, "I was right!" as our little boy was pulled into the hot white spotlights of the delivery room.

Super hawt.

To quote a friend regarding the responsibility of raising more than one child: "It just keeps getting better and stranger!" Bring on the strange! And also the orange popsicles!

Baby Jane agrees.

But before things get too strange, let's just enjoy this moment of zen.

I have yet to experience a greater display of the glory of our Creator than the fruit of all of our exhausting journeys through infertility and child loss.

How about now? Can we play outside now, daddy?

Baby Jane spent some time relocating rocks around Mama's garden. This dude was found laying low in hopes that the tiny lady would pass by.

Them bradford buds be blooming.

Baby Jane learns to fly while Mama lays a phat bowl of mulch.

The most fun a kid can have with a sandbox full of plastic and rain water.

The most chill a kid can get in a tub full of bath bubbles.

These are the days of water and sand

There is something happening here

In short

My dad (who really is a hero of mine) had a birthday this week and is celebrating by spending the week with his lady partner (my mom) just south of the hoosier state. I wanted to write about how rad he is and how we both just finished this mindbending book and discussed plans for deeper discussion.

However, it is 2:54 in the a.m. and me thinks the pillow it beckons me.

So instead, here's an incredibly flattering out-of-focus photo from the early nineties of the two of us in dope shorts singing a song that has haunted me on every return visit to olivet since.

Sweet dreams.

Take your shoes off

Let them piggies dangle in the cool breeze.

Hide your kids, hide your wife

This shady dude is the embodiment of baby-snatching. He's a bastard and he'll try and trick you with enchanting yo-yo tricks. Beware.

Thank you, pat benatar

The preceding has been a partial song-writing demo recorded for the purpose of streaming through the interwebs.

Say something for pete's sake

Pony thoughts

Sometimes the kid just says things that merit being said by a talking pony.