one day last year for a reason i can't remember, i was walking around the house in a pair of shorts and a fleece ski vest. that's it. no socks. no shoes. no shirt! just me, a pair of shorts, and this dark blue fuzzy vest. when i rounded a corner and came into marty's view for the first time in this dashing ensemble, she about birthed a fourth kid from the laughing i induced. i guess my wispy guns, concave chest, and protruding gut can't pull off the fleece vest, no shirt combo. before running into marty i was thinking it was a good look for me. and even after running into marty, i wasn't totally convinced i should abandon it just yet. the only thing i did know is marty and i wouldn't be doing any role playing sporting me as the buff ski patrol guy there to save marty the damsel from the perils of mother nature. i may be more confident than all reason says i should be, but a breaking point does exist. not many people can reach it, but marty is one who can.

this is all to say, decision time has come. i'm going skiing this week and i'll have to decide wether or not to unleash my new look on all the rich folks strolling the park city boutiques. if nothing else, it should add fine fuel to peoples' curiosity wondering if bookguy and i are guy chums or gay lovers.

i'm been avoiding buzz about the slumdog millionaire for weeks now. i've also had multiple chances to see the movie snatched from my grasp just moments before the lights in the theater dimmed. very frustrating. so when walt and i had a friday night dinner engagement cancelled the day before, i pounced. we had the sitter. we had the evening. marty was too exhausted to voice an opposing opinion. it was on.

when we sank in the seats i couldn't believe how much effort went into seeing a simple film that runs hundreds of times a day in our city. as for the film, this film, we made it twenty minutes before walking out. a friend of marty's said we just needed to make it another five minutes and we would have been alright. this friend does not have a son that looks like one of the main child actors, so our stomachs didn't have five minutes in them. we instead went and had persian kabobs and talked and laughed and made it home at a respectable hour in that we were missing our kids after our bad movie outing and thought we might sneak in cheek kisses before they drifted off.

i spoke to bookguy a few days earlier regarding our annual ski adventure. he said he was reading three musketeers. i said i was reading three musketeers. he asked if i had seen slumdog. i said i had not yet but was hoping too. i asked why those were connected and he said they just were and he was fearful of saying more giving my neurosis about learning stuff about movies before seeing those movies. he did add though that seeing the movie would not wreck my ability to read three musketeers. we had both just started reading so we compared how far we had gotten. he said he had just read the translator's forward and was ready to dig in. i said i skipped over all forward and preface material and turned to the first page of the first chapter and started at the first word (because i like my books like i like my movies, unspoiled by insight and opinion). bookguy went on to say that the forward was interesting because the translator of his text explained how it was important to continue re-rendering and re-translating books even if this had previously been done in order to keep them semantically relevant and readable to contemporary audiences. i thought this was a sound insight but not worth risking a spoiler just pages before the real story begins.

then sometime after talking to bookguy (but before seeing slumdog) i was chatting with a colleague. they asked me if i do a certain thing. i said no i don't, i in fact avoid it like the plague. then i took pause long enough to know that i don't really spend much time avoiding plague so corrected my comment by saying i avoid it like i avoid syphillis, because i think syphilis is actually something i've actually tried to avoid in my lifetime. i think the person i was talking to wanted to say "too much information" but knew me well enough not to bother.

the advice i give to young technologists who work with me.

for the first time in the history of marty and troy, marty ran out of her monthly allowance before me. and not by just a little bit. the girl is bone dry and i have over half my money left. in fact, i have so much left that after learning of her plight on errand day and after fanning my face with a handful of bills i plucked a twenty from the stack pushed it into the palm of her hand, clapped her on the butt and told her to go get herself something nice today, just because.

fortunately for me her jaw was still resting solidly on the ground at seeing my late in the month financial state because any other time such ribald placement of my hand to her ass would have resulted with her knuckles on my jawbone. it is funny what money can do to a woman.

if marty asks me to do something, there is always a silent "right now" tacked onto the end of her request. conversely, whenever i ask her if there is anything i can do to help, there is always a silent 'within reason' placed at the end. marital life together was more tumultuous before we learned this bit about one another. and, to be fair, marital life can easily get re-tumultuous when when one of us chooses to forget, ignore or blatantly disregard the policy.

marty and i give time to a few different efforts in our community. as a team, people tend to favor us. between her people skills and gifts for patience and my technology and organizational skills we make a pretty effective duo. problem is we suffer the same obstacles most workgroups do and that is one of communication. several times marty has brought me requests i thought were outlandish or desired too quickly. these moments usually result in minor huffs between she and i that later result in apologies and cooperation to get the jobs done.

someone recently told me how meetings at google happen. supposedly, they are limited to some small and inflexible number of minutes, like fifteen. and no one in the room is allowed to sit down. this strategy is reported to have increased productivity and employee satisfaction because people don't feel as though their time is being disrespected.

after exercising the other night i took a shower. a few minutes later marty entered the shower as well. we stood chatting about the day and the kids. marty then brought up something we were asked to do. we talked through the task while washing each others backs and trading turns under the spray. when the shower was done and i was back at my desk making notes about the chore, it occurred to me that that was our most pleasant and productive 'meeting' ever. furthermore, it occurred to me that this may be the answer to the business worlds low opinion of meetings. group showers. you feel more vulnerable. you feel more equal. people are being helpful (washing each others tough to get spots). you're sharing. and if all goes well, you're potentially minutes away from getting lucky. all vital components of a positive experience by my estimation.

it was a weekday night. the kids were asleep. it was about midnight and marty and i both got into bed within five minutes of one another. this does not happen often but when it does one of two things happens. we talk or we experience one another, maritally, as in, sexually. this night was a sex night. while i enjoy talking with marty i more enjoy the alternative. mostly because we can talk in the ...

there is this interesting book called the five love languages. in it its author, gary chapman, theorizes there are five ways people show love to one another. they are; physical touch, quality time, words of affirmation, gifts, and acts of service. chapman believes that everyone leans towards one of these categories and what that means is that this is how they express their love to an intimate part...

tuesday was the six week mark of my surgery. this is when my doctor said i'd be able to start walking. last week i called his office to verify this point and see if there were any preliminary things i needed to do beforehand. my doctor's assistant called back and said:

i spoke to the doctor and yes, you may begin walking next week ... as tolerated.

as tolerated. how many of you think they know something i don't? because in my mind, as reward for my diligent month and a half of exacting execution of doctor's orders i felt i held inalienable claim to cast my crutches aside and dance like dick van dyke in mary poppins or even chitty, chitty, bang, bang. when i offered this notion to the doctor's assistant she said i was certainly free to do that ... as tolerated.

after returning home from my first walking-eligible therapy session, i was showing off my new, albeit still with crutches, walking skills to marty and a neighbor lady. as i tentatively shuffled down the sidewalk in front of our house marty called out behind me, "you look like an 87 year old stroke victim."

and my great love for my wife continues ... as tolerated.

The Coolidge Effect is a phenomenon whereby males exhibit high sexual performance given the introduction of new willing females.

It earned its name many years ago when President Coolidge and his wife were touring a farm. While the President was elsewhere, the farmer proudly showed Mrs. Coolidge a rooster that "could copulate with hens all day long, day after day." Mrs. Coolidge coyly suggested that the farmer tell that to Mr. Coolidge, which he did.

The President thought for a moment and then inquired, "With the same hen?"

"No, sir," replied the farmer.

"Tell that to Mrs. Coolidge," retorted the President.

via kottke ... via defective yeti ... via reuniting

a new TROYSCRIPT was posted today. eighteen years

a new TROYSCRIPT was posted today. multi-purpose

it seems a post from a few weeks ago has been causing a lot of confusion. first of all, marty is not pregnant and second of all marty is not pregnant. the first not pregnant clarification is for the people who felt the end of the previous post left things too uncertain. the last two lines read: i explained to marty that i was trying to be literary, not literal so hoped that by saying things had passed, i was implying that things had passed and we were out of the woods. sorry to have mislead some.

as for the second not pregnant disclaimer, marty recently got her hair cut short so anyone who knew of our ritual OR read that same post AND bumped into marty in the last few weeks was thinking that we were for real pregnant. now this confusion is certainly more justified and i'll say that even i was briefly duped by the circumstance of it all.

marty's stylist works a few doors down from our pediatrician so she booked anthony for a checkup and herself for a haircut in the same hour. we all drove to the doctor's office and then asked the kids if they wanted to go in with me and anthony or with mom. all voted for me and anthony (dumb luck that) so i escorted three rambunctious children into a cramped and spartan waiting room while marty took a peaceful stroll down the street.

surprisingly the kids and i got in and out quickly (you ever want to guarantee yourself good and fast service drag behind you three destructive and loud humans into places of business). upon getting into the car, we decided to go look for marty instead of waiting for her to return. i didn't know exactly where the salon was but figured if it was within walking distance we could find it. i drove down the road and soon spotted one and pulled into the lot. they had blinds up that prevented me from seeing the people inside so i told the kids to wait while i checked it out. i entered the lobby and stuck my head around the partition. i spied marty getting cut towards the back of the room. she and her hair lady were chatting lightly and i noticed that most of marty's hair was gone. i looked at the swaths of hair at the beautician's feet and ducked back behind the partition before marty could see me spying.

i somberly slid back into the driver's seat. the kids were going on furiously about if i saw her and was she in there and do they have candy for little kids who sit very still. i told them she was in there but that when she came out they wouldn't recognize her because she was getting a very different sort of haircut. for the first time they paused thinking on what i just said. after a few contemplative moments they started refuting my claim. i stuck to my guns saying they didn't know because they hadn't seen her and i did. right at this perfect moment, a hunched over elderly woman exited the salon. i pointed to her and said ...

TROY
there's mom guys.

BELLA/ALEX
what? where?

TROY
right there. she just came out.

ALEX
that isn't mom. that's an old lady.

TROY
i told you you wouldn't recognize her.

BELLA
we don't recognize her because THAT ISN'T HER!

TROY
of course it's her.

BELLA
if it's her why is she going to the car next to us.

TROY
she's just joking you. she's not really going to get in it. she's just playing.

(we all watch as the woman fumbles with her purse)

TROY
ahhh. she's tricking you good. in a moment she's going to come over here and say she tricked you.

ALEX
nuh-uh.

TROY
uh-huh.

(the woman found her keys, opened the door and got in.)

BELLA
see. she just got in.

TROY
man, she's really taking this far. she really want's to trick you big.

BELLA
nuh-uh.

TROY (i shouted at the window)
marty! get out of that car! you're going to get in trouble if someone sees you.

BELLA
dad! that's not her!

TROY
it is her. but she won't be able to start it so she's going to get out and come over any second.

the woman starts the car, backs out and drives off. somewhere during this the kids think that it may be their mother and are now concerned for her. with the kids twisted and craning their heads to watch the wayward woman drive off, marty emerged from the salon and got into the car while everyone else was peering out the back window. they spun around and excitedly caught marty up ...

BELLA
dad was joking us, saying you were some old lady. but then the old lady drove away. but it's ok because we knew it wasn't you and that dad was just joking us.

MARTY
yeah, he does that sometimes.

TROY
sooooo.

MARTY
sooooo what?

TROY
so, that's a pretty daring haircut.

MARTY
yeah, i decided to make it easy on myself.

TROY
there's nothing you want to tell me is there?

MARTY
no, i don't think so.

TROY
ok. because that is an awful short haircut.

MARTY
OH! NO! no! no. absolutely not.

TROY
ok. you gave me a bit of a start when i looked in there and saw you all demi moore'd up. i considered driving off without you.

MARTY
but you didn't.

TROY
yeah, it occurred to me i was getting the raw end given that i'd have three and you'd just have the one.

sunday i took the kids to the country to visit my parents for the day. marty stayed back to run errands and have some time to herself. i returned in the evening spent. while shuffling the kids towards bed, marty leaned into my ear and whispered that she had a surprise for me.

the kids were finally down and i was checking some stuff on my computer. out of my peripheral vision i saw marty dash by. i turned to see her in the next room wearing something smooth and lacey. she was spun around reaching for something behind her. i squinted to make out what she was doing. it turns out she was trying to cut the tags off my surprise, a new lingerie-catsuit looking deal. seeing that i saw her, she sultrily strode my way.

you weren't supposed to see me yet.

i wasn't supposed to see you in this or i wasn't supposed to see you cutting the tags off?

yes.

oh sorry.

it's ok. you like?

i do like. but i don't think i have anything comparable i can wear.

that's ok. you're not supposed to.

as it turns out i did have an accoutrement to bring to the tryst. the day before, alex and i got dinosaur tattoos and mine hadn't yet entirely washed off yet. unfortunately, alex got to pick first and took the last tyrannosaurus leaving me with the less exotic brontosaurus. in showing it to marty i explained that what it lacked for in ferociousness it made up for in grandeur, being as long as six school buses, weighing more than ten elephants, and as tall as a two story building. or at least that's what alex told me in consoling me about getting the suckier of the two tats. by my estimation, marty was still impressed. impressed enough at least.

when i come home from work marty is typically putting the final touches on dinner and the kids are somewhere in the house playing invented games. the sound of the front door slamming at this time of day sends the children into an automatic frenzy and they scramble for hiding places because a game of ogre is now afoot. as i stand in the hallway i gauge each child's location based on their excited shrieks and hurried footsteps so i know where to begin my search for toes, tummies and biscuits. and on days when neighborhood kids are over, the fervor is extra-pitched.

when i stepped inside the house one day last week, i was not met with the usual cacophony but instead complete silence. i swung the door closed loudly and waited and listened. still nothing. my sweep of the first floor found no giggling hiders. i moved upstairs and checked the first few rooms. still nothing. then i found all three children shoulder to shoulder on the ping-pong room futon gazing blankly at a movie playing on marty's computer. as i stood next to the screen the glazed over kids barely acknowledged my arrival giving me a quarter-hearted 'hey dad' (we may need to take this no tv business a step further). i moved to my office to find marty sitting in the corner equally sullen. she was casually flipping the pages of a three day old newspaper.

hey.

hey.

how's things?

hanging on. long day. i haven't started dinner. feeling nauseous.

sorry to hear.

and, i'm too nervous to take a pregnancy test.

with our first few children marty used a pre-arranged code to tell me she was pregnant. the secret sign was she got her hair cut really short, like demi moore in ghost short. that's how i knew and when i'd first see her, she'd smile at me and i'd smile at her and then we'd hug and dance and shout right there on the spot (later i realized the flaw to this plan was some anonymous hairdresser learned i was to be a father before i did, but small price for the surprise frolic). now with three short haircuts behind us, i'm told the potential news while her eyes continues to skim the Week In Review section of the Sunday Times. marty is not a fan of unintentional things, especially when those unintentional things will go on to launch things off her dining room table during dinner and play with whatever they find lurking in the toilet bowl and repeatedly eat gravel.

and in case you were feeling anxious for us, marty's queasiness has since passed.

but the fear hasn't.

marty woke up 20 minutes late. i woke up 30 minutes late. what we were waking up late for was sunday brunch. guests were arriving in less than an hour and we were still bleary, un-showered and food-less.

marty made it to the kitchen first but was slowed down because alex wanted to help her make the custard french toast and bran muffins. after getting the fire going, i was soon hobbled by anthony nipping at my heels while working on the bacon. bella was yelling something indecipherable down the stairwell. the phone rang. it was marty's mother calling from florida. marty left her food station to gab ... for twenty minutes .. while i juggled food and humans. bella appeared in front of me seemingly out of thin air. she stretched her hand out forcing on me a full-size sheet of paper. once in hand, she turned on a heel and marched back upstairs. i read enough of the page to see it was a set of demands. i tossed it to the side and continued my circus act. marty hung up the phone minutes before our guests arrived and when she walked them into the kitchen made some crack to the room about how i should be cooking the bacon differently. our new audience was about to get a marital show-down, and i said as much, but comically announcing the point brought enough levity to pull us out of the spousal nose-dive and we went on to have a wonderfully homey and smiley day with friends.

after stomachs were full and the general fervor ebbed, i noticed bella's note on the counter. she was now beyond her funk and running about the house with her visiting playmates. i took the moment to read her text in full.


translated:
i decided that my webkinz is being cramped in their bed so until i can play webkinz again i'm staying in my bed and i will only come out when a movie is in or to play on the computer.

p.s. if you want me to come out you'll have to let me play webkinz again.

i'm hungry.

BREAKFAST ORDER:
oatmeal
mcdonalds
waffles
toast
pancakes
daddy cereal

for mom and troy
from bella

the true source of her angst is apparent given her use of "mom and troy" in the closing. bella lost her computer privileges a few weeks back and has been fretting for the webkin horse she received for christmas. for the uninitiated (read spared), you care for your webkin pet in this online environment, routinely giving it love and food and toys. after meting out the restriction i had a premonition that when bella did again log onto the website, she'd be met by a decaying, fly-covered horse carcass with cartoony fumes coming out of its sunken abdomen. another parent told me this is not possible in that the site is quite liberal with children's oversights and the worst she'd find is a pouty and tearful version of her horse. i think this is just another example of how our society is coddling our children to unhealthy degrees and years from now when bella finds some neglected real-life-pet molding in the bottom of an aquarium she will surely express surprise if not complete shock. and when her crest-fallen face turns to me for answers i'm going to be the one that finally delivers her the truth, "you should have stuck with those bullshit webkinz."

excerpt from hyrum smith's ten natural laws of successful time and life management ... a book i've read this time of year for seven years now.

it was a little bit after nine and all the kids were asleep. heading downstairs for a drink, i found marty at her desk lazily browsing the web. i stepped behind her, leaned down and softly kissed her neck. her body softened at the touch, her shoulders falling in relaxation. i kept on. after a few minutes she spoke in a slow and soft way, "i have to put the beef stew away." my mind twisted wondering what this bizarre quip meant. it sounded new. it sounded kinky. then i remembered we had beef stew for dinner. i stopped and stood up. she immediately turned to me, apologizing but said she really needed to put the stew away or it would go bad. she told me to go to the bedroom and she'd be just a minute.

i laid in the dark room remembering the scene in american beauty where lester got scolded for almost spilling beer on the couch. with me still grinning from the similarities, marty appeared in the doorway, backlit by light from down the hall. she began a sultry striptease and lester burnham quickly left my mind. she slid her hand down her leg to remove her shoe. i heard the loud rip of velcro tear through the otherwise silent house. i listened for a child to stir. none did. other shoe, more velcro. still lucky with the kids. her shirt came off next and while i waited for her to cast it to the side the hand holding it reached to her left behind the wall. i thought she was getting some hidden surprise but then realized she was just looking for and then fumbling with the small door of the laundry chute.

lester burnham was back.

but not for long.

on saturday marty and bella went to a wedding. bella had the job of handing out hershey kisses to guests walking out of the church after the ceremony. as she dropped the foil wrapped sweets into the passing palms of exiting people she was instructed to say, "kisses from the bride and groom."

meanwhile back at home, i took the boys kite flying. it was a stupendous day for such an outing a...

a new TROYSCRIPT was posted today. new mom

walking towards my office i hear a hushed voice say desperately, "he's coming! he's coming!!! Hurry!!!!" as i round the corner i see alex standing on top of the futon back with his hand deep into the front pocket of my computer bag and the neighbor boy, the one urging him to be quick, standing below him. both boys look to me, eyes wide and cheeks packed. earlier in the week alex saw me put a jumbo pack of juicy fruit in my bag. by visual estimation, i'd wager each child already had between four and six sticks of partially masticated gum crammed in their stretched mouths. this next stick would have surely been the difference between the 'fully struggling' and 'completely drooling' stages on the gum-chewing-effort scale. i shooed them away telling them it was rude to dig through other people's stuff and to stay out of my office. they ran off tittering like embarrassed school girls.

as i type this note to myself i can hear them on the other side of the wall already conspiring for their next run at my stash of gum. on the good side, i guess i should be thankful they weren't stealing peeks at marty's porn collection.

i'm a popcorn snob. i use redenbacher, maybe newmans, but always someone who is passionate and gifted at the craft. i make it over a flame, such as a gas stove-top or open fire. i always use the same pot. i always use real butter. and i always make a tasty bowl of corn. and i do it a lot. marty knows all this. i shared it early in our dating relationship right after my positions on religion and children. given the reveal, by marrying me marty accepted this character trait. this is why our marriage works. she deals with my three flaws and i accept her sixty-four.

the other day while passing through the kitchen i caught marty, fresh back from the grocery, pouring a bag (a clear-plastic bag like we were simple heathens living in the forest) from some no-name maker of popcorn through a funnel and into an empty redenbacher container. i stopped and eyed the woman. she looked like alex when i found him unwinding a full roll of toilet paper into the commode. words weren't necessary but she said some just the same.

MARTY
i bet you wouldn't have even noticed.

TROY
don't test me marta. not you. not you of all people.

i don't want to call it a divorcable offense but it just may be the closest we've ever come to seeing one.

i watched mr and mrs smith last night and can confidently say one thing about the film; it's apparent that jenifer aniston did not read the scripts her husband accepted. i don't want to say that brad and angelina flying away together was inevitable, but there really isn't another word in the english language to define what was bound to happen. you could have shown me nothing but the film's first five minutes and i could have picture-perfectly drawn the next six months in those people's lives. i mean from the word action they had angelina flitting around in a sheer white, see-through dress and then they made it rain. game, set, match and marriage.

another thing that struck me is how uncharacteristic this role was for pitt. combining this man's charisma and the young age he entered the industry, he's proven quite selective and diverse with parts, reminiscent of a young nick cage. seeing the lack of creativity and innovation in this film, i'd put money behind pitt (a) taking this role purely on the angelina-factor and (b) never having any intention of returning to aniston when the work was done.

aniston's mistake was that she didn't sit her ass on that movie set like a doting girlfriend. i know it seems insecure but consider who she's married to. i mean not everyone can be as confident in union as, say, marty, even if her faith doesn't stem from thinking i will never leave her as much as it stems from faith that no other woman would ever take me.

bella has this funny habit when she finishes a roll of toilet paper she takes the cardboard tube off the holder and drops it into the bathtub. seems minor but when i shower in the morning i just reach in past the curtain and turn on the hot water to let it warm up. then moments later when i step in, i see this water-logged spool soaking in the middle of the tub. from this i've come to learn i don't like touching wet cardboard (probably the most predictable thing i've ever learned about myself) which means i leave it there for someone else, which in our house can also be pronounced 'marty', to deal with later in the day/week.

i asked bella why she threw the roll in the tub and not in the waste basket. she shrugged her shoulders and said 'no reason'. i asked her if she would stop doing this and she unaffectedly said 'sure'. a week or two would go by sans shower surprise when one morning there it is, again rolling around against the spray of the shower jets. after thinking on it some, it occurred to me that i just assumed bella was the one doing it and that i've never actually seen her make the maneuver. this may explain why they keep showing up. with my luck marty is the one doing it in protest of our decade-long battle over wether the toilet paper should come out from the top or bottom of the hanging roll. she and i have persevered through children, financial crises and other significant life changes yet an agreement on how to hang the toilet paper in our home's only bathroom eludes us. looking at this in print, i'm seeing how petty the matter is, but what are you going to do when you're married to someone as stubborn and convicted as marty. i will confess though, if she is behind this secret and this is her tactic of choice in settling our feud, she just may come out on top this time.

TROY
see, i told you if we moved your desk over there, you'd be able to see the tv while you work.

MARTY
you didn't tell me anything.

TROY
though, the one downside is now you don't get to see me riding on the bike trainer at night.

MARTY
yeah, missing you biking in your swim suit with a cut-off t-shirt and flip-flops leaves a real void in my day.

marty's newborn-fatigue is nearing the five month mark. in this advanced state, she ain't exactly the best sweet-talker in town. then again, she's never really been known for sugar-coating a message, even with a full night of sleep.