NaBloPoMo in Reverse (or, Life Is What Happens When You're Not Blogging)
My son did not slice me like a honey glazed ham on Halloween night. Unless he did and my disembodied hands typed this up. Awesome. That would, however, prove that you don't need brains to blog. Insert your own joke at my expense. (Sorry.) (Must. Stop. Thinking. About. Ham.) I haven't posted anything in the last three weeks because I'm protesting NaBloPoMo. For those not in the know (and a belated happy hook-up anniversary

Why I Won't Sleep Much Halloween Night
"Hey, Dad! Wanna see my pictures from art class?" "That's an scary looking jack-o-lantern, Thing 2. But, uh, what's with the red under the eyes and mouth?" "That's blood! Oozing out!" "Uh, awesome, buddy. What else ya got there? That's a big one." "Yeah. I was the only one to do two pic

Conditions May Be Slippery
The autumn sky refused to wake this morning. Rain dripped then coldly plummeted and the wind scissored through the Northeastern trees, cutting leaves down in carnival-colored tears. I told the Things to pile in the minivan. No walking to school this A.M. The tires tried to accelerate up the driveway, but slipped and skidded on th

Lost in Translation
When the Things were younger, we set the TVs in our house to display the closed captioning under the belief that this might help the runts learn to recognize words and spell while somewhat countering Zack and Cody's best efforts to turn their brains to mush. I cannot verify this method actually works, given Thing 1's struggles with reading

The Sex Vacuum
I'm firing the people who clean our house. Apparently, they're killing my sex life. The Wall Street Journal, known internationally as the Masters and Johnson of financial reporting and research, wrote this week about a study that finds the more housework husbands and wives do, the more likely they are to have sex.