Make it spin.

Where's the summer podcast? I don't freaking know. Must have left it in my other pants. What am I, Kreskin? Maybe. I hear HE has more than one pair of pants.

You see, here's the problem with living in the abandoned Cheney Hammer Mill. (And I should add here, it's not the ONLY problem.) It's goddamn hard to stay on a schedule. You can set up your little wall calendar or get one of those day planners at the stationery store. (Personally, I prefer stores that move around, like food trucks. Mmmmmm .... food trucks ....) Or you can vault bravely forward into the 21st Century and set your schedule on some phone app. Well, we've got none of that here. Nothing like it. Anti-Lincoln puts a mark on the wall every morning, but frankly, after a decade of that, it just looks like patterned wallpaper.

I guess what I'm saying is that we haven't posted a new THIS IS BIG GREEN podcast in four months because, well, we lost count of the days. And days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months, and what the hell - here we are. That's very nearly the truth, but like everything around here, it's more complicated than that. The current episode of Ned Trek is a musical, so we're in production - STILL - on I think seven songs. (Like I said, I lost count.) A couple of them have been mixed. I'm still working on rhythm tracks for the rest. We're testing out a new system, and that's been a bit of a process. Our tops won't spin. Hey ... just GET OFF MY BACK!

That wasn't for you. There was a carpenter ant on my back. I've never been able to understand why they are named for something that is almost the precise antithesis of what they do for a living - namely, eat your house alive. (Carpenters, last I looked, build you house alive.) It's another example of what we call the "Pelican Cove Principle" - naming things for either (1) something completely inappropriate to the thing named, or (2) something you destroyed to build the thing. For example: Pelican Cove was a tony bedroom community that had no pelicans and no cove, so it complied with principle (1). Then there's Applewood Drive back in my hometown - a road built through an ancient stand of heirloom apple trees which were, of course, ripped out to make room for McMansions. You get the idea.

Well, there you go - I wasted another morning, didn't I? That's why we're so far behind. Back to the basement with me.