<emo rant>Maybe it's just spring. I feel like going far away, though. I don't know where... But I definitely miss home. I was thinking this evening about just putting on a backpack and a bedroll and seeing where I end up—perhaps I could ride my bike to Argentina, why not? Maybe end up on the wrong side of the desert, perhaps.

And what's more bothersome, the feeling's only been growing lately. First it was just a quiet poking inside of me that suggested that now might be the time for me to start pulling out of the Youth Group (which I have yet to finalize, as I have accepted certain time-limited responsibilities that I need to finish.) and now I'm having trouble distracting myself from the sensation of missing. I am missing, and I don't know where to go now, or how, or even when. Arrgh.

Or, perhaps, it's just a feeling. A bit of undigested potato, or undercooked roast beef. Bothersome electro-chemical monkeybody! Why is it so very difficult to see Truth through these eyes?!?</emo rant>

In other news, I think I'm coming down with something. Bec is just getting over four months of some bronchial infection (strep, I think. Not strep throat, though. Strep lung.) which was trying to turn into bronchitis and pneumonia, but she was put on antibiotics and seems to be healthy again. Praise God. Now I'm just wondering if she gave it to me... Way back at Christmas time... Ech.

Other news again. I got a letter in the mail from the Kansas State Treasurer's Office today. I'm having quite a trouble reading it, but I think that it's trying to tell me that I over-paid an utility bill in 2006 and they're trying to make it right... I think. Anyway, it's something like $70 from Westar Energy.

Have a good night, friendlies. Go home.

I'll start re-writing ASAP.

Oh. My. My Dad wanders with the Peripatetic via e-mail, which means he's not getting to follow Mouldyflocks, but can see a little bit of what's happening, such as the comments I've added. So I sent him a copy of his original, and he remembers it, and he actually exlained "what happened next," so now I've got a whole lot more story material, and I might re-work pieces. Actually, forget re-working it. I'll plan to put up the "last page" of the original penciling sometime today and then restart the whole process. And probably not put a bonnet on Mouldy. That bonnet is a pain to draw all the time, and it looks like she got a cardboard oval lodged in her brain.

Though, in the long story, that might explain a lot...

Mm. This one happened on Sunday. Also, this story is petering out. Which is only fair, since the original story (Mouldyflocks and the Three Pears) also petered out. Meh.

Yeah, I know, I forgot to fill in the window with a proper rainstorm (which, incidently, is happening outside my window as I write) and for some reason Greensheep's hovering. Perhaps it's because he's wearing insoles in his Docs. Which = walking on air.

Also, I had almost finished it when I lost all my coloring progress. Gotta remember that Ctrl-S thing. My spirit became too broken to finish the job.

Get off my back! I penciled and inked it while sitting in my truck at Wal-Mart!

Yeah! Third installment! And I've got the fourth penciled, inked, and I've begun coloring!

Well, Mouldyflocks is on hiatus due to Uncle Sam and his Tax Men, and because I started so recently that I haven't had time to create a backlog (forelog?) of strips. Apologies! Come back tomorrow!

I should probably explain—I'm trying to tell a story with pictures. Just to see if I have what it takes. Commitment and all that.

The story is based off of a scrap of a typewritten tale that I found in my Dad's files. Don't know who wrote it, or where it came from, or anything. But it looks like perhaps it was printed from a Commodore 64, if that kicks any memories.

How I can manage to live in Kansas (Even though it's not Texas).

The weather in Kansas is almost as random as Texas—I'm sitting in the beautiful afternoon sunlight, occasional clouds skittering by over my head, being pelted by snowballs.

At first I thought they were acorns falling on the roof, or perhaps hail. I stuck my head out to see which, and was greeted by little snowballs everywhere—snowballs the size of marbles falling from a sunshiny sky. There weren't even clouds directly overhead.

How do snowballs even form in the sky? I mean, I've seen gigantic "snowflakes" drifting down when the temperature is just around freezing, but not compacted little snowballs which burst into puffs when they hit the ground. It's just weird in the coolest (Ha. It's snow) way.