I love Halloween. As I write this column, my wife is wearing a witch’s hat and decorating the inside of our house with various Halloween themed knick-knacks. (Seriously. She’s hardcore with this stuff.)
The world needs more Russells.
More on Russell in a moment, but first some backstory.
I had picked up my son from school, and we were stopped at a light on our way home. The guy behind me began honking and waving out of his driver’s side window. I stuck my head out my window and looked back. The guy said, “Hey, man, you’re leaking something pretty bad under your car!” I gave him a thumbs up, and then said to myself, “Great. Just make it home…”
I love you. I really do. Now go away.
P.S. That was a lie. I hate you.
Yes, it’s that time of year when we have technically transitioned into fall, but where it is still a bajillion degrees outside and mosquitoes still feast on me if I am outside for about a millisecond.
When my daughter was little, probably the most common thing she heard me say was, “Hula hoop!”
Now, I know what you’re thinking. Either (a) that’s a very odd thing to have your child Hula hoop on command or (b) why?
I am a simple person, with simple pillow needs. The other three people in my house? Complex people, with ridiculously complex pillow needs.
Over the past 20 or so years, I have had two pillows. The first one was a fine pillow, probably purchased for something like $3, and it did its job for years, which was to provide some minor elevation for my head during sleep. I didn’t need it to do much more, because during 98% of my time spent with it, I was unconscious. The pillow could have been writing angry manifestos in its spare time and I wouldn’t have cared. I was asleep.
I try to be a courteous driver. And with that comes resisting the urge to become a vengeful road vigilante when other drivers are not.
Granted, if I did go to vigilante mode, it would be super passive-aggressive, where I would do something like leave a note on someone’s car window long after I was sure they were nowhere around to see me place it.
Like any parent should, I love to regale my kids of the times of my youth, when we had to take on the world without the luxuries they enjoy today.
I tell them of how we had to remember actual phone numbers, and further amaze them with the fact my phone number as a kid was only five numbers. Bonus points if I throw in we dialed on a rotary phone.
My daughter and I were in the car the other day, listening to a stand-up special we had downloaded from Netflix.
Before I continue, please take a moment to realize how awesome that is: I pushed a couple of places on my phone screen and an hour-long stand-up special was suddenly playing over my car speakers via, I guess, magic. Or maybe technology. Who really knows.
There are two things I firmly believe – order and karma.
OK, there are quite a few other things I believe in, but that list could get kinda long. “I believe that dogs are neat. I believe Marvel movies are quite entertaining…”
Such wisdom from a teenager: “Dad, don’t tell Mom ‘I told you so,’ ok?”
I took a deep breath. “I can’t promise you that.”
My daughter and I were trying to replace a gazebo canopy on our back deck, and this was moments after we realized we had gotten the wrong size.