Fortunately, Lindsay and I are usually obsessed with separate things. I’ll be on a vision quest to boost our wifi signal while she compulsively searches the internet for symptoms of feline dehydration. Separate, but equal. It’s just safer that way. When our obsessions converge, like they did recently over 90′s rock posters, we enter a frightening state of mutual hypnosis. The children were screaming for food as their mom and dad swatted them away while huddled around a laptop arguing over which Built to Spill poster was cooler. Continue…
Memoirish stuff
I was walking home on the dark vacant streets of Delaware, Ohio in 1988 when a young shirtless mullet-haired man holding a Budweiser in each hand burst through his screen door. He stood on the porch, motionless, eyeing me like I was a coyote and he had chickens to protect. For a moment I considered holding out my hand to acquaint him with my scent, but I’d been in this situation before and knew the safest choice was to avoid eye contact and show no signs of fear or weakness. Continue…
I’m not sure who’s more attached to this stuffed animal: the owner or the owner’s parents. Two years ago when we nearly lost Froggy, Lindsay and I were way more panicked than Silas. He sat and watched — slack-jawed — as his mom and dad tore his home apart like paranoid coke dealers searching for DEA bugs.
We were frantic, not only because of how Silas might react if Froggy went missing, but also because we love that goddamn frog. His aunt got it for him the day he was born and he hasn’t slept a night without it. Continue…
Seven years ago Lindsay and I went on our first and last cruise. We realized the first night we’re not cut from the red white and blue cloth needed to truly enjoy the Mecca of American excess.
At a “Get to know your fellow cruisers” dinner, we were seated with a very large couple. I’d put their combined weight somewhere around full-sized van. When they nodded to each other, their jowls flapped enough to send a lighter person into flight.
I know there are people in the world with physical problems and emotional pain which cause them to unwittingly gain an astonishing amount of weight. Continue…
When an eight year old finds a mysterious gum ball (GBOUKO – “gum ball of unknown origin”) on his dresser, he doesn’t ask questions. He looks around quickly for evidence of foul play, and chews it. Blue was my favorite “flavor,” but given the banality of that particular Sunday afternoon, even a white GBOUKO got me excited.
When animals find something they suspect is edible, most examine and smell the object before ingesting it. There’s a series of skills and internal alarms built into their DNA to guide them in “food or not food” dilemmas. Continue…
