It’s been a hell of a weekend. One I keep putting off writing about. In fact, with all the general back and forth, sitting down for the blog has been difficult, even as I work on a story in the few hours that I can. Somehow, my goal of being a paid writer is lost on the majority of the people around me? I guess, I don’t tell enough people.

Well, last night I did something stupid and it scared the living hell out of us. I tried to light the house on fire.

Well, not quite, and I didn’t try. Luckily, before I get too deeply into the story, K an I are okay. Our cats are okay. The house is okay. And it seems like our assorted other creatures are okay. I’m thankful for that, very thankful for that.

I had just gotten done making what was literally (in the literal since of the word) the best homemade chicken strips I’ve ever made. We go off to eat it, then I smell smoke.

I look at the stove and flames are licking up the at the cabinets from pan oil. We smother it out and get the stove turned off. The house fills with smoke and K calls the fire department.

I spent four hours cleaning up the flame retardant mess. I’m thankful, but tired. I’ve got to make dinner in a bit, and it has me worried…

Back on the horse!

Alas, because of the crazy ass weekend, I’ve put up two new podcasts on Spreaker. The first was the regularly scheduled bit of garage rock fun. The second was just because I needed to hear the songs after doing all that cleaning with the adrenaline finally running out.

In the meantime, here’s “Fire.”

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