Universal memo

Hiatus

You may have noticed that Randy Boyd's Blocks has been inactive for some time now. That's because I've relocated (temporarily) to another planet. It's called TrikkeWorld, a new child of mine that requires a lot of attention.

Hopefully, once TrikkeWorld is a little more evolved, I'll be able to re-arrange my worlds (and better manage them!) and get back to building more blocks and writing more books.

Thanks for your patience.

"Boyd, take over!"

A long time ago, in a childhood far, far away,
there was a time when I played football.

Seize the Dog

Boomer has seizures. I first noticed them when, at age five, he suddenly appeared possessed. Daddy’s Special Buddy, my golden mutt, was having a heart attack, or about to see a little alien burst from his gut, like in the Sigourney Weaver movie.

To the vet, we went, my friend Linda driving, me in the backseat with Boomer, singing, “Nothing’s gonna harm you (Not While I’m Around)” from Sweeney Todd. His song.

A few hours—and one hefty vet bill—later, Boomer was back to normal, as if nothing had happened, as if Daddy hadn’t been traumatized out of his mind.

Football Player or Cheerleader?

Back in the 80s, I was on a college football field many a Saturday afternoons come autumn. Now in the 21st century, I'm here to tell the world: College Football Players: Lighten Up on Your Gay Teammates!

Blissful Ignorance

How do I tell my dog that his best buddy Max is no longer with us?

Do I look at him with a sad face and say, "Max. Gone."

Do I let him go on in blissful ignorance?

I suppose he'll know soon enough. The moment we step inside my mother's house, he'll go sniffing around for her dog, wondering why Max wasn't waiting on the other side of the door, barking up a storm.

Boomer's tail will be wagging in circles, happy to see his Granny, but he's bound to be confused why he's not seeing "Granny and Max," as he's heard me say countless times.