My house is now a little less exciting. We have said our final goodbye to Murphy the Excitable Dachshund, a good boy whose body betrayed him at the end.
The decision to set him free was not an easy one, but it was one that was necessary. Our Murphy had left, and the only thing that remained was a shell of the dog who had brought so much joy to our world for more than a decade.
As a parent of two teenagers, I spent a good bit of my time asking, “What are you talking about?”
This can range anywhere from goings on at school to current pop culture to inside jokes that I probably don’t want to know what they are talking about.
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…”
Dear Summer,
I love you. I really do. Now go away.
Love, Mike
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.