A (surprisingly food-heavy) roundup of second-rate thoughts from a first-rate week.
I once was able to just walk out of church, get into my car and go about my daily business.
My wife and I had a chance to see the movie "Yesterday," about a struggling musician who is hit by a bus and awakens to find that he's the only one who remembers the Beatles, and can therefore enlighten the world. It was really good.
". . . the quiz answers are so obvious that you’d have to be a, well, moron, to NOT find the correct option. . ."
People are upset that Amazon employees are listening in on our private conversations through our Alexa devices. I say it won’t be a problem much longer...
I don’t know what the rest of you did for Valentine’s Day, but my lovely lady and I spent an intimate evening . . .
Now that my kids have learned to play the piano, often providing the soundtrack to our lives these days, it sometimes feels like we’re living in an Old West saloon.
I understand that you're not supposed to cry over spilled milk. But what about when you trudge out to the store in the early morning subzero wind chills to buy milk, and then trudge back home with milk, and then five minutes after you bring milk into the homestead . . .
Modern alarm clocks and apps usually have a setting which allows them to become progressively louder or more obnoxious as the minutes tick away. I realized this morning that I have become this for my family, as my tone and language escalates . . .
This week at work, we had an "all-hands" meeting to discuss the state of the company. Most of it was presented in financial parlance, most of which was over my head, and likely over the heads of my colleagues, as we are largely a technical group. I feel like we were like a bunch of … Continue reading Business is Business
￼Parents need a master light switch by the front door. That way we don't have to wander around the entire house shutting off lights. We can just throw one large, Alcatraz-style breaker, a metal beast that's two feet wide and takes two hands to pull down. Imagine the penultimate satisfaction of grabbing that steely handle, … Continue reading The Master Switch
Three years ago, we took the family to my company's picnic at Huber’s, a family farm about 45 minutes from our home. At the time, I shared my mortification at the fact that we had left Sam's shoes at home. I have photos of him traipsing through the pumpkin patch, barefoot without a care in … Continue reading Mortification, Phase 2
In which a common parent-child “conversation” is relayed, one which highlights the near-impossibility of achieving a base understanding when it comes to certain subjects, further solidifying a father’s status as “moron.” Or something.