Xorton's Rant

Being as Iona was starting a trial run at daycare this past week, I finally had a few hours in which to construct and shoot the sets for our Buskar the Bear tale. "I finally crushed that stupid truck you've been protecting." Iona interjected. "Yes dear, I know, the Hummer. It doesn't matter anyway, we finished the picture shoot." "It doesn't matter anymore? Damn." "You know, little girls of your age shouldn't use words like that." I scolded. "&*$@ you. Don't make me hit you again." Iona threatened shaking her little fist. "Now, now. You'll enjoy this one dear." "I'd better!" Iona scowled. And with that, let's begin our story: Buskar the Bear was terribly drunk. Terribly, terribly drunk. But that of course was his usual state. He always went about saying: "If you're not drinking, you're probably thinking... which in my experience just gets you into...

My girlfriend and I recently endured an interesting exercise by deciding to take our daughter with us on a quick trip to Alberta. The Calgary skyline as viewed from our hotel room in the morning. during sunrise (I had to check the internet to see that the sun had risen.) For those contemplating traveling with an eleventh month old my suggestion is... don't. Iona's default mood, much like myself is set to "mildly put out". She's generally not a fan of travel to begin with, so confining her to a three foot space in a metal cylinder, then spending four days in a car and small unfamiliar bedrooms pretty much guaranteed that her mood escalated from "mildly put out" to "severely displeased" and frequently "royally pissed". I don't think she smiled the entire time. I don't think I did much either. The Rockies as viewed from the highway on our way to Banff. A group of Mustangs frolicked with a moose and some mountain goat...