I'm Back

I’m quite a bit older since we last spoke. I have a bunch of new gray hair that looks terrible and won’t lay down well at all. BUT I’m already married! Hah! Take that, universe!

Since I don’t have to attract a mate anymore with my fancy hair - bring on the grays. I'm ready.

I want to catch you up on the last year or so, but I don’t want to go overboard. I’ll hit the highlights, such as they are. 

I blew up a truck motor this year. That was pretty satisfying. Not just anyone can break a whole motor from inside the cab using nothing but his right foot and his mind, but I did it! It made a really big noise that was some “gnashing” but also a “rending” coupled with a “clatter” and a “knock, knock bang” followed by at least one hard “crash” sound and long slow “grinding” noise right there at the end.

I quit writing a year or so ago. I don’t know why. I am a little bit sad about it, because I had some really funny thoughts that I didn’t write down and now I’m not sure I can get them back.

I’ll blame children, but it’s probably not their fault. My fallback is to blame Emily Jones for anything in general, but it’s probably not 100% her fault either. 

Funny story about Emily – she’s allergic to seafood so I always try to sneak shellfish into her meals. One night I convinced her that “crab roll” was definitely not the same thing as “seafood” (“it’s a crustacean” I said, with a winning smile) and I suggested that she should have a teeny tiny bite. I really pulled out all the stops and, by god, she went for it. Watching that tiny piece of crab roll disappear down her gullet was the moment wherein I realized I needed to be in sales. So, the aftermath was worth it (for me) if you consider the broader implications. I consider securing that first sales job a real accomplishment. Fortunately, it turns out Emily was fine and doesn't really have a true anaphylactic response to shellfish. Who knew? She's totally fine. Don’t worry.

Mostly fine. 

By “fine” what I really mean is “not dead”. She is absolutely not at all dead. She is alive, I can confirm that. She did, however, call me later that evening every half hour from 2AM to 7AM from the floor of her bathroom where she was thrashing about in the throes of totally unhinged projectile vomiting. So, to be clear: after all THAT, she was totally fine.

The voicemails were hysterical. It was a lot of broken sentences punctuated by “heaving” and "splatter". And the swearing! Good Lord! 

Heh. I know that’s not funny. I know. Practical jokes aren’t funny at all and I should be ashamed of myself. I know it.

I mean, it is a tiny bit funny though, right?

Anyway, deductive reasoning being what it is – I believe my failure to write is my wife’s fault, but it may also be my propensity for introspection, my failure to own a diesel pickup, finding out about the zika virus, or having had stitches in my foot during a beach vacation last summer, which was infuriating. Regardless, I’ve been absent. So much so - that people don’t ask me about writing anymore, which only makes me want to sulk. So I’ve done some of that too. Then, lo and behold a new computer and some space for writing shows up under the Christmas tree compliments of the wife I blame (now entirely) on my lack of writing and I find I’ve been encouraged to proceed with writing once again in a way that only a Real American could appreciate – a retail purchase!

So I’m back.  I couldn’t just let this fancy retail purchase sit there unused. If it’s not called “material guilt” it is now.

I would catch you up on more details from the last year or so, but it would read terribly average and middle-class. Here’s the highlight: I got a fancy travel bag for Christmas so I filled it up with stuff I don’t need and I spent almost all of my money trying to shoot a huge bull elk, which I was able to do only for the following reason: I went to college and he didn’t.

Sorry.

It was every bit as satisfying as you might guess.

What else? There is something else I wanted to tell you.

Ah yes. I have an extra kid! Brand new! I made this kid myself and I feel like I may have gotten this one just right. The first one is turning out to be super aggressive and powerfully outdoorsy and perhaps a tiny bit too much like me to be what you might call “perfectly centered”, so I am glad for a second chance at the goal.

This new creature is a tiny girl person and she’s probably going to be reaaaallll fancy and expensive. Before you ask: No, I’m not saving for a wedding. I don’t need to, and I know that already because I know this: she is going to have a lot of first dates that bring her home riiight on time, walk her nervously up to the front door AND NEVER COME BACK OR I’LL KILL YOU.

Her love life will be very sad, I'm sure, but not for MEEEEEE!

Maybe one day I’ll get to write about it.