Opening up the store again after 4 years. A lot of cobwebs to go through, mind you, and a lot of old merchandise to clear out. Now I only have this one t-shirt design left for folks to buy. Click on the Grove Gear tab in the nav bar and then click the t-shirt to take you to the store to buy it if you’d like.

Here is the view of the shuttle launch from my front yard. I love sunset launches as you can see the colors of the sunset in the plume of the shuttle going up.

It’s a lonely life here at the Grove Studios.   I rise from bed each morning and shuffle through my day waiting patiently for the mail to arrive.  Sometimes I wonder if the mail carrier sits and watches me pop my head out of the front door to check and see if the box has had its daily deposit from some hidden corner, laughing and reading my magazines.  I sit on my chair and fire up the laptop to watch the Twitter world scroll by, one tweet at a time.  I gotta get motivated, gotta drag myself to the drawing table…except on Wednesday’s where I am a taxi driver, back and forth to school for the kids.  Son has early release on Wednesdays so I don’t get started inking as if I did, I would be late to pick him up.  Then it is back to the house for an hour and then back to school to pick up the daughter.  Once I get back to the cave, I have little time to do my dance with the mailbox as I need to bring my son back to his school for volleyball practice.  I am just glad that their schools are next door to each other.  Maybe I should set up my studio in my car.  I can strap my tablet to the steering wheel and have the laptop on the dashboard…maybe use some duct tape to stick the portable hard drive to the ceiling as the laptop has such dinky capacity on its own drive.

I could use the night to do my drawing and inking, but I need to get some sleep…I have a long day of driving back and forth ahead of me and I do need to make sure I can deliver my strip to the Robot Overlords.  They demand quality, so quality I provide.  Obscure quality as I have yet to harness the spark that will bring the masses to play in the Grove.  So I toil for myself, toil away and wait, hoping to catch that elusive mail carrier and tell him to stop leaving his grubby fingerprints on the pages of my magazines.