Wow, for that few months, it's been crazy times at the Casa del Whackos, and not necessarily the good kind. Life changes involving the death of a parent, extracation from certain tar baby-like situations, and the steady ennui of every day life can suck the mojo out of a writer's collective subconscious, making it difficult to spread the joy on the toast while trudging through the morass of mental molasses. But for everything there is…

Dad here; in the midst of the book being released yesterday, we had to deal with the passing and burial of the oldest inmate of the Casa del Whackos, Alex's large Doberman, St Echo the Perpetually Guilty. Like many have done and will no doubt continue to do, Echo came to be a resident at the Casa as a result of "vini, vici, velcro". Roughly translated from the original Latin, this means "I came, I…

The Big Dam Bridge is one of the longest pedestrian bridges in North America. At over a mile and a half long and ninety feet high, it traverses the top of Murray Lock and Dam, spanning the Arkansas River between the sister cities of Little Rock and North Little Rock, and is a constant attraction to joggers, photographers, cyclists, or anyone looking to escape the heat of the humid Arkansas summers. It is also part…

Well I don't know why I try to lay here at night, I get the feeling that the floor I'll soon bite I'm so scared I haven't slept in two weeks Clutching the mattress edge between my butt cheeks Charlie's to the left of me, The hard floor to the right,  the other two Stuck in the middle with you. I dont know what I'm supposed to do It's the same thing when we camp…

The sun is rising over the dewy grass of the Casa del Whackos. It's going to heat up to be another of those oppressive July days that points to the assurance of even more of the same in August, but for now, the incessant buzz of hummingbird wings seems to be keeping the temperatures beat into submission. Then the peace is rent in twain as Charlie, Claire and Ajax cease their frolicking just long enough…

Hello, group; my name is dad, and I'm a foster failure. (Group, in unison) Hello, dad. It always starts with just one look; what can it hurt? Surely, someone one else will step up this time and I won't have to expose myself to the blessing and the curse. (Hair covered lady, twisting an empty leash around her shaking hands) But what about the cases that only I have the expertise to assist? Surely, in…

Charlie here; the first physical copy of the book is due in my paws for final proofing this coming Wednesday, and dad and I are NOT calm and collected. This has been a dream since the beginning, three years in the making, a conglomeration of new and old, with a further explanation of my inauspicious beginnings, and to actually see it in physical form is enough to make me need to go outside and eat…