May 26, 2007
Hello, everyone. Hard to believe it’s been over three months since I’ve posted, but I have good reasons. In early April, I started the Body-for-Life program, which involves a mix of weight lifting, cardio and six carbohydrate/protein meals per day. It’s been going well. I started at 229 lbs., and I’m now at 206. Twenty-three pounds gone in 6 weeks. I lost the first 16 lbs. in the first three weeks. I now wear jeans that would’ve been tight ten years ago, and I can see my jawline again, ha. My energy has returned, and I’m getting muscles on my chest for the first time. It’s exciting and a little strange all at once.
Also, I’ve been working on my screenwriting. I’m determined to make a sale in the next year, so nearly all of my free time has been devoted to writing and studying the craft.
I’ve started the girls on Hooked-on-Phonics. They’re doing well, learning the different sounds that letters make.
This exercise program require a decent amount of rest, so the days of staying up until midnight on the computer are over. I have to be up to get my workouts done before my girls get up around 6:30 or 7, and I have to have lights out by 11 p.m. at the latest. So, you can see that time is at a premium, but I have missed you all. I check in on your blogs regularly, but I haven’t commented much since I haven’t had time to engage in the kind of conversations we used to. However, now that I’ve streamlined my schedule, I hope to come around more often. I’ll see you all on my rounds.
August 1, 2006
- I suddenly realized that last week marked the one-year anniversary of The Second Side silliness. Time flies.
- I was in the library today, taking a leak in the men’s room, when I saw some graffitti scrawled above the urinal: “I will pay you ten bucks to piss in my mouth,” along with a blank space for time and date. To my right, some derelict stood at the sink, brushing his teeth. Needless to say, I shook it off and got the hell of out there. In fact, I may have gotten the hell out of there and then shaken it off.
- Also at the library, I saw a greasy, grungy young man with long, black hair wearing a t-shirt that read: Got Crabs? Oh, hee, hee. Oh, hardy-har. You’re such a shocking rebel. Fuck off, you little turd.
- Speaking of people who pissed me off, I heard Guns n’ Roses on the radio, and it reminded me that I used to get really angry at the rich kids in high school who used to cruise around with GnR blasting from the expensive stereos in their Camaros and Z-28s. For some reason, I didn’t think rich kids had any business listening to real rock and roll. Rock was about anger. What the hell did they have to be angry about?
- We watched 2001: A Space Odyssey on our big screen last night. If ever a movie had a drug-like effect, it’s that one.
- My youngest (by one minute) daughter did a somersault for the first time. They have been working on this on their own, for if I tried to show them, the furniture might be destroyed. Time marches on. Time marches on.
- One of my favorite rock lyrics: All your money won’t another minute buy. You didn’t know Yoda was a songwriter, did you?
- Oh, I’ve added a chatterbox to the sidebar. Feel free to join in or start an odd conversation.
- You’ll all be pleased to know that I was the number one Google search result for “term for licking an eyeball.” You don’t have to send a card, Mom, I know you’re proud.
Don’t let your pie crust.
June 6, 2006
Today, I strolled through Menard’s, looking for a hoe. They had hoes on sale, and I’m always down for a cheap hoe. I walked up and down the aisles, but couldn’t find a damn hoe anywhere. Just when I thought there wasn’t a damn hoe in the sto’, I found an employee. He was white, with white hair and looked to be about 55. I asked him where I could find the hoes that were on sale. He gave me a blank look. “Your ad says you have hoes on sale.” Still looking blankly. “No hoes today?” Finally, a look of recognition. “Oh! Hoes! You mean like a garden hoe?” he asked, pantomiming garden hoe use. “Yeah,” I say, “a garden hoe.” He showed me where all the hoes where. I took the cheapest one. True story.
May 16, 2006
Yesterday, while driving on the highway, my wife narrowly missed a collision with another vehicle whose crazy driver was either fleeing the police or unconscious behind the wheel. Only a matter of seconds or less separated her from a nasty crash that could have been fatal.
She told me this over the phone, and it dawned on me immediately that I could easily have had the sheriff or the state patrol on the line, telling me about a bad accident, gee we’re sure sorry and would I mind coming down to make an identification? I remember noticing details around me—sun shining bright, kids eating lunch, Eagles on the stereo, etc., and how those details came this close to forming a sort of psychological restore point. A place where everything starts over.
I don’t talk about Tracey much. Not because she’s unimportant or a source of shame. I’m simply respecting her privacy. Once I open the door, sometimes it’s hard to know where the line is drawn between what can be shared or not. But, in this case I’d like to crack the door a little.
This October will be our 13th wedding anniversary. We’ve lived in a few cities and states. We’ve made friends and then said goodbye. We brought in two furry cats—one we lost last year, the other still with us for nearly the entire stretch. We have two beautiful, twin daughters, Laura and Abby. They are intelligent to an almost freakish degree (I say that with only a mild bias).
Although the flames of passion that make relationships so much fun in the beginning have cooled a little, the benefit is to be left with a friend. I’m talking about friendship deeper and more everlasting than you can possibly imagine (if you can, you know what I’m talking about). A friend who agrees with you that no matter how hard things get, quitting is not an option. She’s a woman who continues to believe in me when I’ve lost faith in myself. A woman I don’t have to worry about out in the world because I know she puts up with less shit from others than me, and that ain’t much. She is pure beauty in the classical sense. Intelligent in a way that defies comprehension yet provides inspiration. A woman whose maternal instincts continue to amaze. I could not be more fortunate to have this woman be the mother of my children.
They say the best thing a father can do for his children is love their mother. I’m trying, girls, although she makes it pretty easy.
I am proud to tell the world that Tracey is my wife.
April 22, 2006
It suddenly occurred to me that there are now millions of women who would rather be married to me than Tom Cruise. So there.