You can hate me at any time.

As I type this missive I am enjoying a refreshing home made barley soda on my back porch in the cool afternoon breeze while Princess Poopy Pants sleeps. I have completed and e-mailed my report from this morning. The laundry is on the line. The kitchen is cleaned up. I'm listening to some music by Sixpence None the Richer, my current guilty pleasure.

I can't decide on whether to work on some writing or to read for a while.

Why in the world would people want to live in the city when they can live like this?

Prayers going out to Marty and his family right now for his mother Sarah.

New and improved, the same old same old.

So, hopefully you have started using my liquid laundry soap. If not, you are no true loyal minion!!!

I have however upgraded.

New version:

1 bar Fels Naptha Soap grated
1 cup washing soda
1 cup Borax

Put it all in the food processor and hit kill. It makes a fine powder. Use about a tablespoon or two per washer load.

But wait, there's more!

It also is excellent for cleaning the tub or toilet. It cleans a kitchen sink and stove like you would never believe. It's CHEEEEEEP and we all know that I love cheap. Try it. That's an order.

And here is a picture of Princess Poopy Pants wearing my hat and socks with a mouth full for your enjoyment.

Epic

So, while leaving Satan-Center (Wal-Mart) with a massive quantity of stuff, I glanced over at the Missing Children board.

You may be thinking, "what a kind and compassionate man Brian is. Always studying children's faces to help in the national watch for missing children."

No. I'm looking to see how horrible the pictures are, thinking this is the best photo you have of your missing child? Yes, I'm callous and cold.

This time however, I noticed something that caught my eye. One child's photo was a mug shot.

A mug shot.

In case you missed that, a mug shot.

Here's a radical notion: if the best photo you have of your missing child is his mug shot, your child is not missing. He is a fugitive from justice. Time to face reality.

I'm just saying.

Breakin' the law

Some say that child labor laws protect children.

I say that people don't realize how good children can clean.

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Edisto, more than a beach

Madeline loves Edisto Island. And why not? It's a wonderful place that is not swarming with junk souvenir stores and teenagers with loud car radios playing rap at obscene volume.

It's quiet, with shell covered beaches. The link to the past is ever present. There are reminders of the island cotton days. The rice plantation days. The truck farming days. There is the oldest continuously active church in South Carolina.

Admittedly, Edisto has always been where I go shrimping with my father. Now though it is where Madeline can play in the surf and build a sand castle. It is where a ride to nowhere in the Jeep with the doors and windows off is a big adventure.

New family customs seem to be starting every day.

As a side note, lightning hit our Direct TV dish while we were gone. This is the third time this year, because the technicians refused to ground the equipment. Direct TV refused to send a repairman out in less than three days. So, I fired them. I will now get my television from the interwebs and from a Netflix subscription. So, no real tv for our house any more. Let's see how that works out. At least I removed the incompetence that is Direct TV from my life.