New Year's Resolutions...Again

I don’t make New Year’s Resolutions. Most of you know this because I talked about it earlier.  I also don’t have a bucket list. But, that isn’t to say that those things are bad. It’s just that it’s my belief that if a person wants to change they don’t have to wait until the beginning of the year to do so. If you realize on December 3^rd that you want to lose some weight, start on December 4^th. You don’t need to wait a month to get your life in order.

There’s a similar response to issues that I see with many of my associates and friends. I call it the “Monday Start Motivation.” Here’s a variant of a conversation we’ve all had, maybe in these exact words:

Lord Digglesworth: I have been eating like a vagrant this past fortnight, and lately I feel the bubbleguts each night before bed. It is rather uncomfortable.

Baron Narrowshanks III: Yes, old boy, I know what you mean. Perhaps we should do something about it.

Lord Digglesworth: Agreed. I can no longer push the limits of my gastrointestinal fortitude. I shall begin eating well immediately!

Baron Narrowshanks III: I agree! We shall forsake these meat sweats by utilizing a healthy eating regimen. Tut tut!

Lord Digglesworth:  Here here! We shall start immediately!...on Monday!

Baron Narrowshanks III: Naturally, on Monday! Today being only Tuesday, we shall take the Rolls to a wonderful drive-thru dining locale where we can have the largest grease patty that the world has ever seen!

Lord Digglesworth: Don’t forget the bucket of fries, old sport!

Baron Narrowshanks III: Never!

Today is the 30^th of December. If you have a Resolution for the New Year, I say start it today! If something comes to mind on the 17^th of January, start it then. If you come up with an idea on a Wednesday, hop to it! Mondays are there because we needed to start the work week SOME day. It doesn’t mean everything in your life has to start then, too.

There is a caveat. Some people are not disciplined. If there was no Monday or no New Years, it is quite possible that some people would never grow! If you need a starter gun to get going, then Monday is just as good as any other. That is, unless you actually own a starter gun. Then, use that!

Now, I can push this idea for the next eight years, but let's be honest: we tend to move with the crowd. Most Americans make New Year's Resolutions. And they will inevitably ask you what yours are. Most of us are too self-conscious to say, "I don't make resolutions because I am awesome as-is!" That's ok. Make a resolution. Making one is better than not growing. 

Just, try not to wait until next year to make the next big change in your life. 

Portrait Q & A with Geraud Staton

Why do you have so many non-traditional portraits in your portfolio?

I don't do very many traditional portraits for two reasons. The first is that traditional portraits are boring. Now, if you're getting your first portrait done, it can be very exciting. Especially a family portrait. But, a portrait has very little different about it than a photograph. If you're going to come to my studio and sit like you're taking a class photo we may as well just snap a few pictures and let you put them up on Facebook. Instead, I want your portrait to be amazing, and inspiring, and most of all exciting!

That leads me to the second reason for my non-traditional portrait style. A portrait does have its purpose. It shows a visual reflection of what you were. When you get your traditional portrait it will be a great visual likeness of the person you were one to six months ago, when you initially posed. But, my goal is to portray not only the person you are inside, but the person you want to be in the future!



So, people want to be angels or gods or warrior princesses?

Not quite. People want a wide variety of things. When we meet to discuss your portrait my job is to learn about you. To learn your loves and joys, the things you want out of life and the successes you've had. And then, my job is to work with you to come up with a visual representation of that. I did a portrait of a young lady who was one of three fostered children in her family. She said that life as a foster child was hard and that it could make you into a very jaded person. But, she and her two brothers fought through it and became powerful adults. Her portrait was titled "The Children of Loki," and it had the three monstrous children of Loki from Norse mythology. The main person was the portraitee. It was important that she see a reminder that a part of her is strong and is able to do things that most people can't because of her upbringing. The other part of her can be human and compassionate. It was important for her to be reminded that she can be both.

Portrait added with permission of the owner

Are there any rules for your portraits?

There are. Mostly, the painting needs to show who the client wants to be in the future. What do they want out of life? Are they career focused or family oriented? Are they looking for something in particular out of life, or is there some personality trait that they aspire to displaying? There have been times while sitting with a client and asking them questions about who they are that we've had to stop working on the painting idea and actually start hashing out their life's purpose. Sometimes it just takes an outsider to help put your life goals into perspective.

Once we have an idea of who the subject is, we have add more focuses. I call them focuses, anyway. They are little symbols and icons that help link the viewer to the painting. They give you a little more buy-in. That's important. None of us are so simple that one sentence could sum up what we want for ourselves. So, your portrait has symbols. They don't have to be obvious. They just need to be able to focus you on one aspect of what you want. Or, one aspect of who you currently are.

That's the third rule. You cannot always be looking forward. That way lies nothing but unrest. The person you want to be can be wonderful, but the person you are today has also done wonderful things. It's important to look at your portrait and not only see what you hope to be, but also what you are. That makes you visualization that much stronger.



Does a portrait like this really help a person become better?

This is no longer the realm of hocus pocus. There is a great deal of research that discusses the link between visualization and success. (Australian Psychologist Alan) Richardson's famous experiment with 3 groups of basketball players is the most used argument. One group would practice throwing free throws for 20 minutes every day. The second group would visualize throwing free throws, but no actual practice was allowed. The third group did neither. The astounding results, as most of us know, is that the group of visualizers improved almost as much as the group that only practiced!

Vision boards and even Pinterest are great examples. Images and drawings help the brain respond with much deeper interest and attention than some 1000 word affirmation. And a portrait that you can relate to, that can show you, even in mythological proportions, what you can be is incredibly powerful!



Do you have one of these portraits?

I have a couple actually. The latest one is in my bedroom. I look at it every morning.


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If you're interested in a portrait quote from Geraud, just contact him at gerauds@gmail.com or at 919-423-7841

How To Start Your Day: The Artist's Way!

I awoke for the second time this morning. The first was when TheWife left for work. A flurry of harried activity culminates with a bedside kiss, and then she's gone with but settling dust and pug hair trailing behind her like fairy glitter. I am left alone in the darkness with 4 hours of slumber tucked into my belt, which isn't enough even for me. I catch another hour.

At the second wake up, I lounge. I don't like that space between sleep and wakefulness, or the hypnopompic state. There's a new word for you, fellow adventurers, thanks to AussieDiver. Use it three times in a sentence today.

So, even though I'm not a fan of the hypnopompic state, I AM a fan of starting the day off mired in my own thoughts. Today was no different. I opened my eyes a few minutes before my alarm was scheduled to go off. I looked at the ceiling and considered my favorite sexual positions, wondering if they had changed at all since last time I did this. Turns out they have. I spend a few extra minutes matching my top 5 positions with songs that seemed appropriate before deciding it was time to work out. Naturally, I have Bruno Mars' Gorilla in my head as I get up.

I do a little Wing Chun to warm up, followed by some simple body weight exercises. My shoulder screams at me like an angry drunk, with about as much coordination. I torture myself for just under 30 minutes. This puts me in a bit of a sour mood, but then I hear Gorilla in my head again and life slips back into technicolor. Plus, it's breakfast time! I do love food and music!

Thick cut bacon and a 2 eggs scrambled with sauteed onions and peppers. Breakfast of champions. I eat a banana just to add something sweet to the mix. I watch an episode of Gotham while I eat. it isn't bad, but it's not that interesting, either. I'd rather spend time in my own head, so I turn it off about 20 minutes in and go back to thinking.

Once I've put my favorite Metallica songs in order from 1 to 10 (am I the only guy who thinks Until it Sleeps is better than One?), I head into the studio. Today I'm working on Temperance, a painting in the Tarot:Major Arcana series. I'm recording it, because it's been awhile since I've made a speed painting video.

I paint for 4 hours, listening to Bossy Pants by Tina Fey. All in all, not a bad way to spend the morning.

How do you start your day? Are you frantic? Chill? Comatose?

Movies with Geraud: Mercenaries

I know, fellow adventurers. A few days have been skipped. But, it's only because I was sicker than an Ebola-plagued flu patient with an immunodeficiency disorder. And in that time the caveman controlling my diet was mostly silent. I had chicken noodle soup and buttered rice and ginger ale.

I say "mostly silent" because there was a time I would have had a lot of macaroni and cheese (only Kraft, with that silver packer of neon yellow cheese goo, thank you very much) and fast food. So, I would say major improvement.

So, you may not get to hear about my food or exercise regimen, but, you, dear reader, get to sit with me while I watch the greatest Expendables rip-off ever: Today, we're watching "Mercenaries."



I am curled up on the couch, at approximately 1 AM, unable to sleep due to the constant cough whose only purpose must be to facilitate the very messy escape of my lungs through my torn and ravaged throat.  I cover myself with  a blanket. Naturally, I leave room for you to join me on the couch.

Immediately, the movie breaks bad. According to the movie itself it isn't called "Mercenaries." It's called "Expendables 3.0." What??? Is this from the Expendables franchise? How could it not be good?

I sit up a little, no longer expecting a total shit-show. This might be worth a damned.

The President's daughter is on some sort of "I'm looking out for the safety of women in foreign lands" visit to a place who's name isn't real. Granted, my geography is shit, so it could have been a country near Jamaica. Whoever this woman is, she is a bad actor. Bad bad. But who cares? 3 minutes in and she's already in a gun fight. People are trying to take her hostage. People with accents that I can't place. Are these Samoans?

Whoever they are, the country is led by Brigitte "I banged Flav-A Flav" Nielson. Also known as Brigitte"ewww, gross!" Nielsen. They take POTUS's child back to headquarters where we hear a rousing speech about how shitty America is. We're apparently a society of whiney, arrogant...

Oh shit! The daughter just grabbed a knife and put it to Red Sonya's throat! Wow. A very, very rubber knife. I mean, crazy rubber. She may as well be holding a stick of Big Red to Brigitte's throat. Not that it matters. Brigitte is out in a second and killing some random woman to prove how bad ass she is.

Back in the USA, land of whiney arrogant folks, Cynthia "About Twelve People Remember Me From the 80s" Rothrock is recruiting a bunch of killers, a la The Dirty Dozen. Except none of these killers can act. We meet Cassie Clay, played by Zoe "Stuntwoman-To-Everyone" Bell. She's tough and has apparently kicked the shit out of her commanding officer and wound up in jail. She never explains why she did it. I'm going to bet it was for some noble reason. She's going to be the leader of the group.

We meet Kat Morgan, played by Kristanna "I Was In Burn Notice...No Seriously" Loken. Three of you might remember her from the Sci Fi hit Painkiller Jane. When I say hit, I mean it was on Sci Fi back before it was called Syfy.

We meet Mei Lin Fong, played by...who the hell is this? I think I saw her on an episode of Human Target. Now THAT was a good show. Especially Guerrero. That dude was...

Is that Vivica Fox?? Sorry. Vivica A. Fox. The A stands for "awww...I really need the money." I would have sworn she could act better than this. Holy shit, she's terrible. Also, she's going to be the traitor. Her back story couldn't yell "I'm the traitor" any louder without the viewer actually seeing her betray stuff.

The girls from Mercenaries. Sorry, Gyrrlz from Mercenaries!

I may have taken a quick nap. Or, it might have just been boring for a few minutes. I might have also been playing Puzzles and Dragons on my Samsung Note. Either way, when I get back the Mercs have gotten into a gun fight sneaking into whatever country Mrs. Ivan Drago is in charge of. Morocco? 

They aren't sneaky enough. Not when Vivica goes off-script and starts shooting. And this gunfight is EPIC. Think the A-Team, but with people who have never learned to shoot a gun before. Wait, that might have been the A-Team. Vivica is shooting like she just put on gang colors. And Painkiller Jane blinks whenever she pulls the trigger. But, after 3000 rounds get fired and 3 guys get killed, the battle is over. Horray!

With no transportation, our femme fatales walk casually through the streets of...um...You know...I think maybe that's Perth. I'm sure of it. Perth has a lot of huts and shit, right? Is Perth a country? Actually, I don't think it is. I'm going with Ayers Rock. I KNOW Ayers Rock is a country. 

So, the girls are walking with their guns slung on their backs dressed in black like they just left the Trinity tryouts for the Matrix 4: Neo Knows Tae Bo. Suddenly, some local girl pops out and picks their pockets. She steals a radio and our heroes chase her around for awhile. When they catch her she gives us our deus ex moment of the movie. She knows how to get into Red Sonya's compound! Bazinga!

After some great exposition, the Expendababes steal a truck with some missiles in it. They use those missiles in the old "we stole your truck full of missiles, but we'll give it back if you will only hire us to join your crew, even though right now you have the President's daughter as a hostage and there is no way you'll agree to this" play. Naturally, Mrs. Ivan Drago let's them in. I mean, why wouldn't she?

The Mercs infiltrate and manage to seduce and tie up every man on guard duty and manage to get the President's daughter rescued. Apparently all men are just horny beasts waiting for some military chick who's been wearing leather for 3 days to come and put the moves on them. Good thing, too. Looks like the Mercenaries are going to pull this off.

OH SHIT!! Vivica "Don't Call Me Copperhead" Fox just changed sides. I did NOT see that coming! 

This is a face you can trust.

Zoe and the POTUS kid make a break for it. They run to the top of the building...which is what any trained soldier would do. Unfortunately, just before they grow wings and fly away (or whatever the plan was) the ruler of Uzbekistan shoots Zoe in the shoulder, blasting her off the building. They capture the rest of the girls and leave Zoe for dead on top of a truck. A truck that she fell on top of. A truck that, for some reason, drives away. A truck that just drives out of Brigitte's compound and out into the countryside with a presumably dead mercenary on it.

Uh. So...that just happened. But, we don't have long before she decides to go back in and rescue the President's daughter again. And maybe save her friends, even though they should be long dead by...oh. Nope. They are all alive and tied up. About to be tortured. I think the Riddler may be coming in to ask them some questions. WHY AREN'T THEY DEAD?!?!?! Anyway, Zoe is about to go Liam Neeson up in here!

Zoe breaks back into the compound. This time she's alone and wounded, but she's got anger on her side. She kicks ass! And, for some reason, no one wants to shoot her. Dudes just run through the street or jump out of buildings and try tackling her or punching her or tripping her. I shit you not. Some guy just tried to trip her! She beats that dude's ass! Ouch. 

She gets in and rescues EVERYBODY. Including some women who were going to be sold into prostitution. She releases them, gives them guns, and sends them on their way.  She and her Merc team goes one way, the freed prostitutes all run in the other direction. Zoe says, and this is a direct quote:

"I say we go PMS from hell in this place." Naturally, the Mercs agree.

In the meantime, the freed prostitutes literally make it around the corner before they get mowed down by one of Red Sonya's henchmen. Holy shit!! I mean, every last girl is dead! They just got out of their cells! I mean, they are decimated. By a handheld Gatling gun! Wow. I...I mean... That's fucked up!

The mercs can't be bothered with this.Now a car chase is happening. This section is obviously brought to us by Jeep. Car chases. Bullets flying. No damage to the cars. Pristine jeeps tearing through the city of...Dubai, maybe? But, the Mercs make it to an awaiting American plane. There's no pilot there, so one of the ladies has to fly them out of there. So, they do. 

But wait! There's more!

Brigitte is driving up, trying to catch up to the plane before it can take off. What if she does? There's nothing she can...wait a second.

Is there a...

You will not believe this. There is some sort of strap hanging from the plane. The plan is one of those huge C-17s. But for some reason it just has some random strap dangling from it, like toilet paper stuck to your shoe when you leave an airport bathroom. Oh, and the tail gate is down. Sure. Who doesn't fly with the tailgate down?

Brigitte grabs that strap and the plane takes off and everyone breathes a sigh of relief until Brigitte pulls her ass into the open tail of the plane and just starts blasting a 9mm Beretta all over the place. I should rewind and count, but I am sure she fired no less than 73 bullets, and only PainKiller Jane got hit. Shot in the gut! Her exposed, six-pack gut! And she gets shot out of the plane. Zoe is sad...but she must fight on!

She and Brigitte are fighting. Who do you think would win: Xena the Warrior Princess's stunt double or that traitor chick from Beverly Hills Cop II?

Well, you'd be wrong. Zoe is getting her ass beat like a high-school nerd getting on the wrong bus during football season. Fortunately, Brigitte isn't the only one who learned that rope trick. PainKiller is back! She uses that strap to lasso Brigitte and...ahhh. 

Look there. See that? Remember those missiles they ladies stole? The ones they gave back to Brigitte in order to join her gang? Well, there they are. They are on this plane somehow. What?? And now, Brigitte is stuck to these missiles with that mystery strap hanging from the back of a C-17 with it's tail section open. Zoe pushes a button and the tailgate opens just a bit more so that Brigitte and the missiles fall out of the plane...and on to Brigitte's compound! Bull's Eye!! The compound explodes in a fiery hell of crap CGI!

By the time to credits roll on this thing I am exhausted! The girls have a slo-motion walk into the sunset and I give a standing slow-clap to this wonder of modern cinema. Of course, I'm hopped up on cough syrup and Sudafed, so what do I know?

Primal: The First Weekend

This weekend was harder. My cravings finally kicked in with a vengeance. I woke up with them. All I wanted was pancakes and syrup. But, I fought off the craving successfully by eating some chicken salad that I made a couple days ago. All was well.

Then, I went out to run a few errands. I picked up a few art supplies and drove past McDonald's, which I don't usually care for at all but was suddenly calling me like the Sirens calling to Ulysses. I stuffed my ears with Bon Jovi and sang at the top of my lungs until I drove past it. Then, I ran into the Bojangle's. There, my weakness for all things that start with Bo, including Bo Diddley, Bo Derek and Bozo the Clown!

I was...good? I only got a bacon, egg and cheese biscuit. I avoided the fries and the tea. I decided that was doing great and didn't kick myself too hard.

In the evening I met some friends for karaoke. I had a scotch and soda, along with 2 beers that I milked through In the Jailhouse Now, When You Were Young, and How Far We've Come. 

Sunday was MUCH better. The cravings for fatty foods went away, but the desire for sweets picked up where the grease train left off. I was rummaging through the house looking for cheap chocolate, butterscotch candies, or those unwrapped mint candies my grandmother used to have on her kitchen counter. The gross ones. The ones I never would have eaten under penalty of death. If that bowl had been in my vicinity I would have scarfed the whole thing down.

But, alas, it wasn't, so I settled on a piece of Orbit gum. 

Primal: Day 6

I have been cooking all day. That sounds like a complaint, but in truth I'm very pleased with myself.

I should qualify. When I say I've been cooking all day, I don't mean I've been slaving over a hot stove like a 1960's stepford wife. What I mean is that I've actually cooked all of my meals today. At home. With real food.

Breakfast was simple. Bacon and eggs. Nothing crazy. I ate a couple hours after I woke up.

For lunch I made a variation of a Cuban pork chop, using cumin, lime juice and garlic. It was amazing. And, it was easy. Whipped the whole thing together in about 15 minutes. Ate it with a sliced up pear and a half of an avocado.

For dinner I separated a whole chicken and grilled it up using a new recipe from Allrecipes.com. Again, it was quick. And, even more importantly, it was delicious. Had some wilted spinach on the side. I'm using the chicken back and legs (neither of which I really like) to make a Parmesan chicken salad for tomorrow.

Earlier today I took Kosmo, Koolest Dog in the World, for a 3.5 mile walk. A good full day, but a healthy one, too.

I feel great. My feel less groggy. I have some spring in my step, though some of that could be mental. Not that I care. Spring in step is spring in step. Even had a little wine with dinner. The whole bottle? Nope. Stopped at two glasses, and that's only because TheWife didn't enjoy the wine very much.

I still haven't weighed. I don't want to know. I want to see if this thing makes me feel better, and if it helps my health issues. If I find I'm not losing weight as fast as I would like I might bail on it. So, I'm forcing myself to remember that this isn't for weight loss. It's for my actual health.

Has anyone out there had any good experiences with Paleo/Primal? Or bad experiences? Let's hear them all!

Primal: Day 5

Today wasn't as good as the others, but it wasn't terrible either. I started eating a Marie Callender frozen meal that I had in my freezer. It was a chicken and pasta dish that I usually love. I know it wasn't Primal, but I also hate for food to go bad and it needed to get eaten.

I tried. I got about a third through it. It was not good. It could have been all in my head, but it seems that five days is a little soon to have reprogrammed my brain already.

Whatever the reason, I threw the rest of it in the trash can and grilled myself some zucchini and onions. And my stomach was happy.

Primal: Day 4

I spent the morning laughing and cooking and drinking wine with AussieDiver. Her humor and joie de vivre is an excellent start to the day. And doing it over Skype makes me feel like one of these TV chefs. But, with an audience of one.

It was simple fare. An omelet with peppers, jalapeno, and potato. I know, potatoes aren't primal. At least, according to most camps. But some people argue the case for the poor white potato.

Those that say "aye" argue that potatoes are real foods. They don't require much processing like legumes and grains. The best argument I've heard is that chimps have been been known to dig up potatoes with a stick and munch on them. Only Encino Man was more primal than that! Or those cavemen from Geico.

But, there are those that say "nay," and their argument is good, too. The most important of those being that Primal/Paleo isn't just about natural foods, but it's also about limiting the insulin spike caused by eating things with a high glycemic index. Primal dieting is about cutting out all the sugars in our diet. In my case, it was a ton of sugar. I believe the term was "shit ton". But the reason for cutting out those sugars and complex carbs is that we want to limit the regular high concentrations of insulin within our bodies. Potatoes help cause that high insulin spike.

"I just want to be friends! Don't leave me!"

So, where do I sit? I firmly believe that I should limit potatoes in my diet. But, potatoes weren't the thing killing me. It was bread, Doritos, ice cream sandwiches, pancakes and syrup, cereal, graham crackers, Belgian waffles and fast food.

So, cut me a little slack. And, maybe cut yourself a little slack too. When you run a 17-minute mile you do not need to worry about whether your toe is flexed a little too much. That's advanced shit. You've got bigger things to deal with.

Eventually, my potato and I may part ways. For now, it was great in my omelet. More importantly, I felt great throughout the day. Maybe the potato isn't so bad after all.

Primal: Day 3

I have frozen shoulder, which is a fancy way of saying that my shoulder is all fucked up and nobody really knows why. Best guess, I have a swollen bursa that causes me intense pain when I raise my arm too high. It's been an issue for a few months. Physical therapy is doing alright in that I can move it much more. I can sleep most nights without waking up at three in the morning feeling like someone has taken a dentist drill to my shoulder joint.

Range of motion is at 70%. However, I have the strength of a 4 year old on one side. Ok, that may be an exaggeration. But, where I was once able to lift three small Cirque du Soleil gymnasts in my right arm I can now barely manage one. Also, it hurts when I do it.

So, imagine the wailing that was happening while, this morning before breakfast, I was trying to force my gargantuan frame off of the floor in an attempt to do 10 push-ups. I made it to 3. I wasn't sure if I was too weak to do another one, or if I just wanted the shooting pain in my shoulder to stop. Either way, I was finished. 

I did the last two sets on my knees in what used to be called girl push-ups. Hopefully women stood up and made a stink about it, forcing us to call them something else. Of course, I wasn't listening, so I don't know what that new title might be. May as well call them Geraud Push-ups. I managed to do a set of 4 and a set of 1. 

Can you call "1" an actual set? My calculus professor would be disappointed.

I did some shoulder stretches with the pull up bar and then 3 sets of planking. Don't let anyone fool you. Planking hurts.

My eating was great. I cooked three meals, avoided all the extra carbs, and felt really good. My energy levels were still high today. And still no desire to snack or run out to the drive-thru. Not that I'm bragging. It's been three days. You can spend 3 days in a hotel fire wearing gasoline pants. Three days is nothing.

Neither if four. Off to the next day.

Primal: Day 2

Two days isn't enough to evaluate much of anything. I've probably eaten primal for 2 days by mistake at some point. So, when I say I feel good I recognize that this could be for a thousand reasons. But, the effect is still there: I feel pretty good. 

I walked nearly 13,000 steps today at a good, steady clip. I ate an omelet with bacon for breakfast and a chicken salad for dinner. I had a bite of dark chocolate for an evening snack. I did eat a low fat yogurt by mistake for lunch. Full fat is the name of the game, because low fat crap is filled with sugar and chemicals. I took a spoonful of strawberry yogurt into my waiting gob and it tasted like the sugar fairy had pissed all over it. I looked at the ingredients and sugar was the third ingredient. Even before the actual strawberries. I ate half of it and had an apple instead.

I was expecting to be starving. Carbs are filling. But, my meals have been moderately sized, especially for a behemoth like me. But, I am not only sated, I'm also not feeling the urge to snack. 

Again, it's been two days. Let's see how day 20 goes.

Primal: Day 1

Today was easy. I ate roasted chicken wings ordered from Dominoes. It would have been better had I made them on my own, but I was hanging out with The Minx and she was paying. How could I say no to that? Also, I love wings.

For dinner TheWife and I ate at a sports bar where I watched Denver get its ass handing to them by the Seahawks. TheWife was pleased. I was not. But, dinner was great. I had a salad and some French Onion Soup. I had bourbon salmon. Again, not perfect. It would have been better if there hadn't been a bourbon glaze on the salmon. But, baby steps. I drank a lot of water with lemon.

I even took a nice long walk this morning. Kosmo the Wonder Dog was happy.

At the end of the day, I'm tired. I don't know if it has anything to do with eating or exercising, but I want to keep track of these things so that I know how this is working.

Going Primal: The Start of my Primal/Paleo Lifestyle

Let me start this by statin' the obvious: There are a thousand Paleo/Primal blogs out there. There are probably more people preaching the gospel of their dietary beliefs than there are preachers spinning their particular gospel about God, Allah, Jehovah or Cthulhu.

This isn't about trying to convince anyone of the Paleo/Primal lifestyle. Hell, I don't even know if I want to do it for any extended amount of time. But, I have to try something. It may be the only way I can get that one proverbial foot out of the grave.

I got a physical awhile back and it did not go well. Of course, it wasn't terrible, either. It was, in fact, sort of typical. I have high cholesterol, but not so high I need to take anything for it: yet. I have high hemoglobin A1C, which is on the cusp of diabetes but not quite: not yet. My weight has been an issue for some time now, and though it is slowly...ever so slowly...getting better, it isn't getting better as fast as it's getting worse.

I feel worse than usual. I'm feeling lethargic. My temple is rebelling against me.So, I'm trying something new. Maybe it will work. Maybe it won't. But here's hoping, because I have no desire to start taking heart medications and sticking myself with needles to monitor blood sugar and having to take blood thinners so I don't have a stroke or worse. I'm too young to be worried about such things, and yet, there it is.

So, let's see how the next 30 days treats me. You guys will be in for an interesting ride. In the end, some of you may decide to join me. Some of you may wonder what took me so long. Others will point and laugh and call me a hippie or communist or socialist or Narnian. Either way, it isn't for you. It's for me.

So, I'm going to see if I can rebuild the temple. You get to watch. 

Stabbed in the Back by Nature

The weather was amazing. A cool 80 degrees with enough humidity that it doesn't need to rain because rain just seems to remain suspended in the air like curtains. The sky was overcast and there was a slight breeze. Very slight. Like a cat's breath on the nape of your neck. I call it cigar weather.

I also call it scooter weather. I recognize some folks would call it motorcycle weather, but your judgement rolls right off my back. Today is too nice to be judged...it's THAT nice of a day!

So, I'm out with my baby. I call her Flo-Jo, because she's black and fast. We're cruising home from an amazing lunch. Everything is on my side. I'm breathing in deeply, going 40mph in a 50mph zone, with no cars speeding past because all those other boobs are at work. I am cruising...dare I say?...ROCKETING at speeds that would startle any skateboarder or unicyclist. The sky is grey. So grey that it makes everything around me grey. Artist would only use three colors to paint this kind of scenery: black, white and grey. It was so grey that I was expecting Liam Neeson to run out into the road chased by a pack of wolves.

Flo-Jo. She's one cute Scoot.

I had a little song in my head. It might have been "How Bizarre" by OMC. Or, maybe "That's Not My Name" by the Tink Tinks. Both are floating around in there regularly, and they both make me smile. And I am, indeed, smiling. Smiling for this amazing day, one day before my birthday. Smiling because it's my mom's birthday today, whom I loved with all my heart. Smiling because of friends and family and life and nature. Nature is fucking awesome!

Suddenly, there's this pain under my left shoulder blade like like I've been hit by a blow dart being shot by a goddamned pygmy. It doesn't flare, or build. It doesn't feel strange and grow into something worse. It's a piercing pain that erupts like Mount Vesuvius. And my back bone was the city of Pompeii!

I swipe at my back, not wanting to lodge this shuriken any deeper into my body. When I do, I feel the culprit! It isn't the throwing knife that I'm expecting. Instead, in my hand is a tiny wasp. And when I say tiny, I mean almost cute. Then, I realize that it isn't dead. It's flailing around in my hand with it's stinger aiming at nothing, like some drunken boxer throwing wild punches in the ring. The moment I realize this little bastard is still alive AND still angry it is no longer cute. It is no longer some tiny bit of nature that I'm holding in my hand. Suddenly it seems to be the size of a Godzilla...or at least, Godzuki.



I sling it off to one side and off it goes. Thank goodness I've slowed to a less rockety 25mph, because I'm cruising one-handed on Flo-Jo and flailing around like some Raid-zapped insect. And already I can feel it swelling and itching.

I'm statin' the obvious, but Nature is a cruel and uncaring mistress!

3 Small Changes to Aide Weight Loss

Here's a quick update on my weight loss goals, for those that actually care about that sort of thing.

First off, a little self-congratulation. I weigh less now than I have in 2 decades. I am feeling incredible! I'm weighing in at 257 lbs these days. It's a total of 63 lbs. lost. I've still got a bit to go, but I'm over the halfway point.

I am not a yo-yo dieter, so for those of you that are, I don't have any real advice for you. I have been either losing steadily or at a full stop.

Ok, enough about that. What you guys want to know is HOW. Well, surprisingly, my changes were not huge.

1) More out than in.
This is statin' the obvious in a big way. There isn't a human being on the face of the planet that doesn't understand this. And yet, we find a hundred different things to focus on when we're trying to lose weight. I did it for a while. You start worrying about the percentage of carbs or how fast you ran or increasing the number of times you chew each bite of food. I am not saying there isn't a place for these worries. But it confuses things, makes them more difficult.

You may have heard of decision fatigue. Decision fatigue is the cause of many irrational trade-offs. Judges in court have been shown to make less favorable decisions later in the day than early in the day. The more decisions you need to make, the harder it is to make good ones later.

Jay walking, eh? Well, based on...Wait...it's 4:56??? Hang him! 

By eliminating the concern for how much protein I was eating, I have been able to concentrate on the one important rule: Burn more calories than I take in. You can be healthier, but you should be building one habit at a time.

2) Document
It's been proven that people who write down all of their food are more effective at losing weight. This was very true for me. I don't know the reasons why it works for others, but for me, it keeps me in the right frame of mind. On the days where I don't write something down it's because I'm feeling sneaky. And sneaky leads to eating that 3 pound chocolate Easter Bunny and not admitting to it. But, if you write down everything you eat, you are keeping yourself accountable.

I think she's re-enacting a scene from the Inglourious Basterds. .

I also track my activity with a Fitbit. It couldn't get any simpler. And, this goes back to Rule #1. I know how many calories I'm burning throughout the day. Makes it easy to know how much food I can eat.  Which leads to my biggest rule...

3) Don't eat it if you haven't earned it
I know a lot of people who want to lose weight who eat badly during the day and then say, "Oh boy, I am going to have to run about 5 miles tonight!"

Of course, they do not. Why don't they? Who knows: Kids, work, a new Joss Whedon TV show. Whatever the reason, it doesn't get done. I used to do it, too. I spent a lot of nights running at 11pm thanks to cheesecake at dinner. However, I don't do that anymore. Instead, I check my Fitbit and if I haven't burned the calories then I don't get the cake. Run first!

This isn't a crazy thought. Personal finances are the same. We all have that friend who burns through their credit card and swears they will pay it off immediately. In most cases, that friend is borrowing food out of your fridge within a few months.

The best personal financiers use credit when they don't really need it. They pay off their cards immediately because they always had the money, anyway. They aren't robbing Peter to pay Paul.

Your eating is exactly the same. If you make a habit of spending your calories only when you have the deficit to spare you will never be caught off guard. You won't have to force yourself to come home after that party and do 3 Jillian Michael's DVDs back-to-back.


Have you got some simple tips that would help our fellow adventurers out? Throw them in the comments. We'd love to hear!

Sometimes Art Takes a Back Seat

The High Priestess
18" x 24" 
Oil on Canvas

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Many of you have noticed that I am not producing art as fast as I once was. If my painting speed is comparable to the pace of a moderately healthy distance runner, than it has slowed to the pace of a dehydrated man crawling his way through the Gobi beneath a circle of hungry vultures. I used to feel bad about it. Art is my life. Art is my soul. Without it, I am that same starved and thirsty man trekking aimlessly through the desert of life.

"There's another artist down there."
"Yay! I love starving artist Tuesdays!"

But...is that true? There are some of us who are so focused on one or two things, nearly to the exclusion of others. We call these individuals "focused." It is high praise and is often the bailiwick of Masters-of-their-Craft. But, in truth, there are dozens of things that fill the gas tank of my soul, as anyone who has tried to follow this blog knows. I have a thousand interests. I promise, I won't try to blog about ALL of them.

<Editors Note: He obviously has forgotten about:
Swimming Post: A Note to Swimmers
Business Post: How to Develop Your Tag Line
Travel Post: Prague, The Little Quarter
TV Post: Why Defiance is Better Than Revolution
Song Talking Post: Pressure >

But, one can only do so much, and these days my time is being taken up by the creation of three businesses and graduating from business school. Alone, neither of these are small efforts. Together, and it's a wonder I have time to blink, much less paint.

But, as you can see by the above work, I haven't stopped altogether. I've only slowed down. In fact, even with the slow down, I'm produced quite a few works this year. There are a few that haven't been posted here that were done for competitions or shows. You'll see them soon.

The key is simply remembering that life is cyclical. Or, maybe the key is remembering that nothing lasts forever. Hmmm, actually, perhaps it's something about leading a horse to water but you can't look him in the mouth.

Wait, am I supposed to lead him to a gift?

Thanks for the water, Bro!

Yeah, that's it. You can give the gift of water to a horse, but don't put it in his mouth. So, that's my advice. The things you love will sometimes take a back seat to other things you love. And that's ok. We are multi-faceted individuals. The world is an unimaginably huge place with a shit ton to do and not enough lifetimes to do them all in.

But, always remember, you can give the gift of water to a horse, but don't put it in his mouth!

Any other advice? We'd love to hear it!

Weight Loss and Zombies!...or, I Hate Running

Past and Present (Unfinished)

18 x 24"

Oil on Canvas

This is the piece that I am working on for a show in Vegas later this month. I'm having a blast! This isn't a subject I've ever broached before. The theme of the show is Robots vs Dinosaurs, where you can either paint a robot, a dinosaur or both. I figure cyborg counts so this is my work so far. It should be done by the next blog entry, so tune in next week!

I smell a book cover coming. Anyone writing a novel about a dinosaur and a badass chick with a robot arm??? If you hear of it, send the author/publisher my way.


Some of you couldn't care less about art. Some of you are here because you want to know about the 50 Pound Weight Loss Challenge. Let me fill you in.

In addition to my daily 1000 calorie deficit, over the past couple of weeks I've picked up my running. I get out of the house at 7am. The sun is up, but it hasn't turned on the heat yet. It's just a cold yellow globe in the sky bearing witness to my upcoming pain. I dress and do nothing else before I run. I hate running. Any delay and I'll find an excuse to go back to bed. Or worse...give in to the siren call of my XBox. So, I sit up, grab my shorts and a t-shirt, take down a slug of water, grab the dog and my cell phone and head outside.

Every step takes me closer to two things: running and NOT running. Most days, running wins. I've determined that if I can get up and out within 5 minutes, the run will happen. After that, I've got as much chance of banging your sister as I do running further than the mail box.

Once outside with the dog bouncing at my side, I don't have the heart to go back in. The dog is as responsible for my weight loss as any diet program. Pet owner guilt... I should market it.

Get the app here: https://www.zombiesrungame.com/

So, since I'm out here, I pop my headphones in and dial up my second saving grace: Zombies, Run! Today, apparently, we're checking out how sound effects the "fast moving zombies."

Great, I think to myself. I hate the fast-moving zombies. As if I'm really running around being chased by zombies.

Regardless of my misplaced sanity, I hear the gates of Abel township opening and I make a run for it. I spend the next 3-5 minutes listening to Sam explain the upcoming mission. This is better than listening to my body thud over the ground like a T-Rex chasing a meal. I lose myself in the story for a little while, which is good because the start of the run is the worst part, by far. So, rather than remind myself of how much I hate running, I remind myself how much I hate fast-moving zombies. In this, I'm not alone. Sam hates them too. So does Janine and Runner 8 and Runner 3. We're a unit of runners and controllers and I'm statin' the obvious when I say that everyone prefers to hate in packs rather than as lone wolves. Zombies, Run! Gives me a pack to bond with.

Then, there's a pause in the story and Zombies, Run! plays one of the songs from my playlist. Looks like I'm starting with the melodic bagpipes of AC/DC's "It's a Long Way to the Top (If You Wanna Rock and Roll)". I lengthen my stride a little.

This pattern happens over and over. I get some story, and then a song plays. I run from a number of fast zombies, then listen to "Cum On Feel the Noize." I meet up with other Runners, and then run to "Synchronicity II." I dodge some zombies throwing rocks (you'll have to get to Season 2, Mission 12 to learn more about that one), and even manage to get a new puppy out of the deal, but first I've got to get through  "Land of 1000 Dances," and "Pompeii."

I reach for the music like a death row inmate reaches for religion. My lungs fight for breath, my heart is hammering, my legs want to quit...but I can't because "Running Down a Dream" just came on and the beat is too perfect to run to. So, I push a little more, a little faster, a little longer. And at some point I curse Tom Petty.



  Could the ending of this song go on any longer???

And finally it's over. I'm drenched with sweat and exhausted.

I hate running...

But I love HAVING fun! The second it's over, I am proud. I feel the endorphins coursing through me like electricity. My breathing comes easier and my pulse slows to that of a race car rather than a bullet. Even the dog is bouncing as if he could have gone another few miles. I'll stay energized all day.

And the best part: I can eat that piece of cheesecake that I didn't eat last night.

Why, exactly, do I hate running?

The Challenge Week 3 - Start Small

The High Priestess - Tarot

Before we get into The Challenge this week, I'm posting the progress of the latest painting. It's been too long since I've worked on one of the tarot series. It's been pleasant getting back into it; like being snuggled in the arms of some beautiful lover from your past. It feels like home.

Now, as for The Challenge, people ask me regularly what I'm doing to lose 50 pounds. Some people ask because they want a little advice. Some people ask because they wonder if I've thought about it. Fifty pounds is no small feat. For some of us it would be easier to fly to the moon by flapping our arms rather than pass on the second helping of Cheez Doodles. I don't claim to have any huge, life changing secret for weight loss. In truth, no one does. We all know how to get healthy. We've known since the first time either we made fun of someone or we were made fun of by someone for being overweight. This ain't the Illuminati.

By the way, Illuminati...I didn't get my invite to this year's "Illumi-Naughty" Bash!

But, there is one tip that I can give you. Start small.

Ok, this is starting to sound like the set up to a dirty joke.

Over the past two weeks I've been concentrating on one thing and one thing only: keeping my calories at a 1000 calorie deficit. Yes, I've been doing a little running, but not very seriously. To call what I do "running" would be to call the seven drunk sorority sisters at karaoke singing "Call Me, Maybe" a musical act.

Isn't that the lead singer from Paramore???

In fact, the main reason that I run is because I have a party to go to that night, or a dinner event, or because I had that second helping of Cheez Doodles. If I'm going to get that 1000 calorie deficit every day, I'm going to need to take a few extra steps.

What some people don't know is that, according to science or doctors or some kid who mowed my lawn once, 3500 calories works out to be approximately 1 pound. A 7000 calorie deficit each week should be roughly, all other things being equal, a two pound weight loss. So, that's what I'm going for.

Since this started, I've lost 3 pounds. Not bad. Slow and steady. Yes, some people can lose 3 pounds in a week by eating nothing but crackers and fizzy water. I'm looking for the bigger win.

Now, you'll have to excuse me. It's Cinco de Mayo. I see a lot of beer in my immediate future. So, you know what that means: I have about 95 miles to run this morning if I'm going to keep my 1000 calorie deficit for today.

Everyday Motivation

The morning was quiet. The sun had already revealed its presence to the world with the same scream of light it always did. Light, but not warmth. The covers didn't want to let me go. The added warmth of TheWife next to me added to the comfort of bed.

But, eventually you've got to face the world, whether its freezing...and in the middle of April!...or not. Besides, life is good, so there isn't any reason to hide away in bed like a black Brian Wilson. I can hear half my readership opening a tab and googling "Brian Wilson." You've just learned something new today. You're welcomed.

See, that's how life works. Just like the bulk of you, I wake up every morning better than I was the previous morning. I'm a little bit smarter, or healthier, or more flexible, or less poor, or more wise, or a little prettier. Maybe my sex count went up by one. Or three. Maybe my reputation got a little better.

Seven out of ten days, I'm a better man when I wake up. But, I have to force myself to remember that. See, unlike most of you, I wake up every morning reminding myself that I am a fat piece of shit and I should not have eaten that double scoop of butter caramel ice cream from the Parlour last night. I remind myself that I am struggling to build a business and that a ton of people are counting on me, "so try not to mess it up, loser!" I wake up to the thought that I'm older and that I haven't gotten as far as my neighbor or my cousin or Robert Downey Jr or that guy from Saved By The Bell.

"Of course you can't compare to me, mortal."

It's habit.

But, reality sets in.

I throw the covers back and put my feet on the floor. I look around at the sun filtering through the blinds. I see my dogs sleeping like the world has never been more safe. I look around at the paintings I've done, and the souvenirs from far away lands I've visited. I remember that I ran 5 miles yesterday, and that I have a meeting today with a guy that may be giving me a building. A fucking BUILDING!

I stand up and take a deep breath and see my shadow against the wall. And, yes, at first I see the shadow of my love handles, making my shadow look like I'm holding a tire swing against my chest. But, reality sets in once again. And I realize I'm seeing the old me. Yes, the new me still has a gut, but that gut is smaller than it was yesterday, and the day before that, and the day before that. It's not the same size as what I saw at first. That vision was habit.

But, as Mulder would say, "the truth is out there." And I remind myself that, in truth, I'm a little bit smarter, or healthier, or more flexible. I'm a little less poor, or more wise. And, yeah, I think I'm a little prettier.

And I remember that, unless I get hustling, I won't be able to say that again tomorrow.

Killer Women: The Review

Hell yeah!! I'm so excited about this show. This show is going to be so good that I'm sure there are about 12.4 million Americans propped in front of their televisions waiting to watch it. You can tell from the tag line it's going to be good: Justice Never Looked So Good. This is going to be EPIC!

It starts like every good TV show should: the backside of a hot babe in a red dress, brunette hair blowing in the wind, standing in the middle of the street. Is that the Alamo? Who cares. Of the 12.4 million Americans, 46 of them noticed the building. The rest are either making sure their moms aren't seeing the television, looking at their husbands to see just how hot they think this woman is, or staring open mouthed at their screens with a spoonful of Raisin Bran hovering a few inches from their lips, 2% milk dripping onto their laps.

I do love Raisin Bran.

The lady in red stalks off screen and ends up at a church. She stops in front of it and stands in the middle of the street for a few seconds. She really does like standing in the way of traffic. I guess that's the deal you make with the devil to have legs like that. I imagine old Scratch says, "a'ight, girl. You want a set o' fine ass legs, you gots to stand in the middle of traffic as often as possible. And I mean for a whole mess o' time. Three count, at least."

(Editor's Note: Why does old Scratch sound like  Brer Rabbit?)
(Writers answer: That's supposed to be Creole)

Cut to a bunch of dudes riding horses, chasing down a cow. Wait! That's not a dude. That's Tricia "Battlestar Galactica" Helfer! She's playing Molly Parker. I should just put this damned bowl down. I don't suspect I'll be doing much eating for the next hour.

But, you can leave your hat on! Awww...you aren't wearing a hat.
Giggity giggity.

Molly Parker needs a chose a dress. She doesn't want to, of course. Every woman knows that cow wrestling is less stereotypical than dress-wearing. And Molly Parker ain't no dress-wearing tart. She's bad ass! But, she frowns and goes to try on dresses anyway. Point made, I guess.

Back to the lady in red, who I've never seen looking as lovely as she did tonight. I've never seen her shine so bright. Mmm mmm, mmm mmm. She's interrupting a wedding, and BLAM BLAM!! The lady in red shoots the bride a few times. She runs out of the church, takes her shoes off like some homicidal Cinderella, and drives away in a hail of bullets!

Hey, Molly Parker is getting a call. Turns out, the bride is...was...a district attorney. Dress trying is over! Vrooommm!!! Molly Parker is back to being badass, driving her black Chevy Tahoe in hot pursuit.. And, of course, she's the first one to catch up to our lady in red. Molly Parker runs her off the road and...Oh shit! That's not her! That's some fat old dude in a cowboy hat! The lady in red has disappeared. There's nobody here. Just you and me. It's where I wanna be.

I suspect, however, that there are only about 8.6 million Americans watching this show.

We watch Molly Parker interview a blood-spattered husband, after watching her do a slo-mo reveal that she's a GASP Texas Ranger. I didn't know they let girls be Rangers. What next? A girl FBA agent!?!? What year is this set in??? The FUTURE?!?!?

A show written for women, by women.
All my female friends have been chomping at the bit for this one.

And, in perfect timing for the next commercial they find out where the lady in red is hiding! She's holed up in a hotel. Texas Rangers away!!

I suspect that 2.6 million Americans are also away!

The Texas Rangers bust in and get her. I'm sure she's going to put up a helluva...

Nope. They got her. No fight or anything. I check the time. Eight minutes in. Hmmm. I eat my Raisin Bran. There are fewer guns than I was hoping for. I recognize the lady in red, though. It's Nadine "My Name is Earl...but not really, it's Nadine" Velazquez. This explains why she was missing from all those episodes of the "The League."

I wonder how Ruxin would look in a red dress.

So, after about 5 minutes of male police harassment and railroading, some soul searching by Molly Parker, Molly realizes that the cops have it wrong. There's something else going on here. "Her nails were chipped." Molly Parker says. "You don't shoot the wife of your soul mate without looking like the one he should have picked."

"EUREKA!" I yell.

1.6 million Americans yell with me.

We spend the next 10 minutes in a blur of backstory. Molly Parker is trying to get divorced but her man ain't having it. We learn a few times that she's a woman in the Texas Rangers, just in case we missed it. We find out that Molly Parker's brother is Michael "I was also on Battlestar Galactica" Trucco.

"Hey, I was on TV, too!"

And we learn about her instincts some more. She's got 'em, goddamn it. And she's going to use them. She gets some evidence in a way that the writers can't explain, so wrastle up a real live montage scene. And suddenly, Bob's your uncle, we have a link to the DEA.

Molly Parker is going to use her feminine wiles on DEA agent Marc "I was Buffy's Annoying Boyfriend, Reilly" Blucas. They have sex. It isn't sexy. At all. I barely watch. I find out that there are hundreds of raisins in every box of my Post Raisin Bran. My cereal box is more interesting than this sex scene.

46,000 Americans agree. I yawn. This scene takes much longer than it should.

And then...it happens. My-Name-Is-Girl is in the shower in prison. YES! Prison shower scene.

Then, I remember it's ABC and not HBO. I yawn again and consider...

OH SNAP!! Some bitches done killed her! Look at all the blood! There's almost a WB amount of blood! Or a TNT amount! Almost!

Oh. Psyche! She isn't dead. Which is good, because NOW we get the crux of what makes Molly Parker Molly Parker. Molly Parker Molly Parker's her way into the prison hospital and talks some more and now we learn that 1) Molly Parker was a battered wife and has never told a soul, and 2) the Mexican cartel has kidnapped the child and madre of My-Name-Is-Girl. Molly Parker swears she's going to get them back.

She calls her friend Reilly and they have some sexual banter and finally, in a very macho, unsexist way, she manages to pout and look pitiful and convince Reilly to endanger the lives of his cartel contacts in order to mount a rescue across the border. Reilly grimaces and says that it's just the two of them. Molly Parker agrees. Reilly says, "There's an excellent chance we're going to die in Mexico tonight."

2,478 Americans wonder if that's not such a bad thing. I sigh. I refill my Raisin Bran and wonder what comes on after this.

I know, I know.  I prefer Kellogg's too.
But I didn't do the shopping.

I can't even begin to describe the way they rescue the grandma and daughter. I mean, it's like the re-enacted a scene from the A-Team frame for frame. There's a complicated plan, that doesn't go the way it's supposed to, there's a lot of bullets, none of which hit Reilly or Molly Parker or the grandma or little hija. The contact gets killed of course. There has to be SOME loss, or the show just won't be believable. They speed out of there chased by trucks and jeeps and about 100 cartel killers. They knock over some conveniently placed kerosene or diesel fuel or lamp oil. It's natural that it would be there. Molly Parker leans out of the window with a grenade launcher and WHOOOMP!! Chase over. The only thing this scene was missing was some yakety sax.

786 Benny Hill fans cheer! Also, 17 Three Stooges fan and 4 Three's Company fans. Killer Women has a diverse audience.

In the end, My-Name-Is-Girl gets her family back and her death sentence pled down to 10 years, Molly Parker grows a pair (I mean...umm...gets her uterus in a...no...ummm...sacks up?...no...um...wait!) gets femininely badass! She tells her husband to sign the divorce papers or she'll tell the world who he really is.  Then, she grabs her trumpet and goes to play with a group of mariachis in a Latino club.

I'm not making that part up. Trumpet. Mariachis (without those hats). Crowded bar. I mean, who DOESN'T want to watch a white Texas Ranger pop onto the stage in the middle of a song with a margarita in one hand and a trumpet in the other? I mean, obviously she's taking it very seriously.

Somewhere in America, a 32 year-old man in his grandma's basement is ordering the "Killer Women" poster from ABC.com to add to his collection. He's also making a companion out of a half dozen of grandmas 's couch cushions and a sewing machine. We'll be the only two people watching the show next week.

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Did you enjoy the show? If so, tell me about it. The readers would love a different opinion, I'm sure!