Titmouse!

Yeah, how often do you get to shout titmouse? Me? Every day lately.

There’s a black-tufted titmouse who currently lives somewhere outside my tree-view office window. He spends a good part of every morning trying to either pick up his reflection or kick his reflection’s ass in my shiny, mirrored window.

He’s quite cute and can’t see inside at all, so I can get right up to within an inch of him and check him out when he takes a break from pecking and fluttering his wings at the window.

I was a bit worried by all the energy he’s expending on his reflection and not on, oh, finding food and other important things. However, he has shown up twice in the last hour with big fat juicy grubs or worms in his mouth. So I guess he’s doing ok.

Or maybe he’s trying to bring me breakfast.

Face of Earth. Falling off. Me.

It's that time of year when all the good little game development elves disappear into their magical pumpkins to perform secret voodoo rituals and sacrifice millions of coffee beans to entice forth pretty shiny things to show at E3.

For those who have asked, I am alive. I'm just decked out in a fluffy green hat and pointy shoes, whistling a merry tune as I spend my days surrounded by animated birds and squirrels enraptured by watching me make toys for all the girls and boys.

OK, perhaps that may not be the most accurate picture...

The squirrels aren't really enraptured. They have crap for attention spans.