Anyone who knows me, knows the first thing to know about me is I'm evil. The second thing to know about me is I'm batshit crazy. Because that's the only reasoning I can use to describe the fact that Lindsey and I decided to run in the madness known as the Warrior Dash, and then play in a softball tournament.

( Click for more details of our self torture... )

A little earlier, my gorgeous wife might have implied that I'm attempting to start a cult. I feel I need to explain why, this morning, I was in the kitchen. Naked. Holding a candle.

Let's travel back in time to an era I like to call "6 a.m. Today." That's when I stumbled out of bed and made my way into the shower. Like most people, when I get out ( Read more... )

I tend not to talk about my ex, except in vague terms, and I try very hard not to be negative. We broke up for many, many reasons, and neither of us is solely to blame for the implosion of our partnership. For my part, I was an invertebrate with repressed anger issues, and that's just not a healthy combination. I know what you're asking yourselves ( Read more... )

Here are some facts of my life:

• I'm married to an artist/photographer.
• Some of our closest friends are published authors.
• I write technical documentation for a living.
• Every Friday night has become Craft Night at the Compound.

The result is that, on Craft Night, Lindsey paints or knits, Becky and Tim paint, Tom sketches and, Kathy knits. Me? I play ( Read more... )

Snippets of my life for the last 18 or so hours.

Yesterday. 6 p.m.
Her: So, I'm kind of planning something for our anniversary. It will require us to get up earlier than normal.
Me: Define "earlier than normal."
Her: Four o'clock. I'll set the alarm and pack up lots of coffee.
Me:  OK.

Last Night. 9:30 p.m.
Her: So everyone at The Compound now knows what ( Read more... )

I've always heard that relationships -- friendships and marriages -- are work. For the most part, that's true. But my marriage is, by far, the easiest "job" I've had. Since Lindsey and I met, everything is effortless, even the few disagreements we've had (that I can count on one hand ( Read more... )

Cliche dictates that there are two things you can't avoid -- death and taxes. Cliches don't know dick about birthdays. So it's death, taxes and birthdays. I'd say, though, while you can't avoid these things, you can ignore them. Well, at least until the IRS or those melodramatic Scoobies from Paranormal State knock at your door to mess with your ( Read more... )

Today marks the anniversary of the day the angels came down from heaven and blessed this earth with the presence of my wife, Lindsey.

Happy Birthday, my Sweet. Hope it's the best of the year!

I Love You!

Papa John's Pizza...ech.

The only good thing about Papa John's Pizza is the little tub of garlic butter you get for dipping your crust into. Now that is some yummy, gooey, crusty, fatty, greasy goodness.

I think that'll be my stripper name.

Eeeyeew.

Back when Lindsey and I talked about adopting a dog, we went through a few names we might consider. My pick? Megatron. Why? Because I'm a geek, and I'm evil. Lindsey's pick? To leave me with Friends for Life, take the dog home, and consider it a good trade.

In the end, we adopted Sugar and left her name as-is. Of course, periodically at The ( Read more... )