it is bookguy's turn to pick our ski destination. he chose utah. one of my favorite humans lives in salt lake city so i called her to tell her i was coming and see if one night we might dine together. she readily raised my offer to a full invitation into her family's home during our nearly week-long visit.

in trying to make sure she was ok with the arrangement, i sent an email offering her an out. in it i explained that my travel-mate could sometimes be a little difficult, especially when away from home for extended periods. she reiterated her original offer saying she would have it no other way but did caution that their home did only have one bathroom. she will be pleased to know that i am approaching forty years in age and have never lived in a home with more than one bathroom. [1] [2]

in trying to make sure bookguy was ok with the arrangement, since he didn't go to high school with this girl, i sent an email offering him an out. his response ...

although i can already tell the "no, you're the greatest" banter will get tough to stomach it should be good humor...

i love how open he is to new experiences. i also love how he so gingerly tip-toed between the sleeping ju-ju gods in his well-crafted retort (at some point during our annual boondoggle, one of us is sure to accidentally nudge one, if not all, of them awake).

[1] i did spend a summer with a family who actually had three toilets but i slept on a punctured air mattress in their basement so am inclined to categorize that more as camping than living.

[2] my current home has one bathroom but two toilets. the second toilet is in a wainscotted hut in our blairwitch-basement and to date bella has been the only one brave enough to lower her naked rear to its seat. and i will say, she has been brave enough an startling number of times.

this is the note i sent to my boss first thing monday morning:

i forgot to get a commitment i have on the calendar and wanted to give you a heads up that i will be out tomorrow.

i am attending a shakespeare performance at a womens' prison in northern missouri.

he didn't believe me.



anyone reading this site, knows i'm not nearly creative enough to make that up. he obviously has a higher opinion of me.

and speaking of creativity, before even getting on the bus to drive to the prison, i was preparing a few troy-esque quips to describe the experience. now that i've signed the book, emptied my pockets, walked through the checkpoints and took my seat in the windowless, cinder-blocked room, those witticisms seem neither appropriate nor humorous. especially since i shed more tears during the spoken word readings than i did in all of 2005.

i thank darkman for affording me this unique experience. i also commend darkman for being the first person i've ever seen use a cellphone without loud-talking into the receiver. i didn't think it was possible, for real i didn't.

excerpt from eragon by christopher paolini

for the last eighteen days of 2005, i carried, in my wallet, a membership card to a local retailer's bra and panty club. i was nine punches in so not your basic tourist. three more clover-shaped holes and i'd be the proud and complimentary owner of a full-figure, soft-cup, microfiber, seamless, under-wire and smart-looking brasserie.

one may wonder how a short, stout, pasty fella like mys...

we have defiant children. i'm told by some this is good. i'm told by others it is bad. good or bad, it is what it is. and, while i see they both have spit and vinegar, it is curious to watch the different ways in which they exercise their will.

bella is cunning. if you tell her to stop doing something she wants to continue doing she will say "ok. but i will stop only after you leave the room." i will let you surmise what happens after we leave the room.

alex is direct. if you tell him to stop doing something he wants to continue doing, he will turn, look you in the eye and sharply say "NOH!". if you repeat your direction the only thing that changes is the volume of his resistance. as i watch his tiny aggression my mind plays sound clips of how this dance may evolve as his vocabulary and confidence grow.

the simple NO will one day become ...
NO! I WILL NOT STOP DOING THIS!

which will become ...
I SAID NO DAMMIT! NOW STOP ASKING!

which will one day fully mature into ...
LISTEN HERE YOU SLACK-JAWED WHELP, TAKE THIS NO AND ACCEPT IT, SWALLOW IT, MAKE IT YOUR OWN OR ELSE I'M GOING TO WALK OVER THERE AND HELP YOU BEGIN THE DIGESTION OF MY RESPONSE TO YOUR QUESTION.

i just hope he's out of the house by the time he reaches this final stage. i can barely shoulder the wispy little NO's he throws at me today.

last night marty and i sat at the table in the breakfast room, soiled plates from the evening dinner strewn before us. both kids had excused themselves to play in the living room. it was mid-day before we realized it was our eight year wedding anniversary (which is the same as our sixteen year together-anniversary). as i looked at my exhausted wife i couldn't help but note the delta between the dinner we shared sixteen years ago and the one tonight. she looked exhausted. i felt spent.

i asked her what she thought we'd be doing in another sixteen years, once the kids were all up and away. she wistfully referred to a retired couple down the street who still walk along the sidewalk arm in arm headed to one of the neighborhood eateries. they seem so youthful. so still in love. she commented on how weekend nights they go to formal halls to ballroom dance. i considered this as the sentiment came from her dreamy face and gently replied that every time she made me dress up to waltz around a high-ceilinged room, i'd make her go to a network-gaming party in some never-married geek's finished basement.

click to watch
more than one person has commented to me that they imagine this is how i am at work. it is clear to me that those people either ...

1. work with me currently
2. worked with me in the past
3. have or had a hidden camera set up in my office.

i wish i could say marty was talking to alexander when she said that but she wasn't, she was talking to me. yeah, that's right, i got THE TALK. the one virtually any man is going to get after they begin co-habitating with a lady-friend.

it was suggested that i sit down when i pee, like my friend chris. when chris first announced that he always sat to urinate when at home or friends, i was intrigued, but apparently not as intrigued as marty. little did i know she concocted a five year strategy to get me to do the same. it's so sad really because she's been architecting this move for years only to have its execution marred by the most minor of details; she pulled the trigger as we moved into the fall/winter season. the only reason i'm able to lower my cozy warm skin on the icy cold seat of our toilet once a day is for fear of soiling my pants, bookpimp style. sorry dear, but if it's any consolation there ain't no love in this world i could make such a chilling sacrifice for.

john locke from the first season of Lost

a new TROYSCRIPT was posted today. adopt you

for our christmas meal, i made the best pie of my pie-making career. it looked leagues better than it tasted and therefore, for someone as vain as me, represented a culinary slam dunk.


and while i was still reveling in my success a full five days later, the good handwriting girl brought this modest effort to our new year's party. if you, like everyone who looked at it, are wondering about the dark chocolate leaves, they were individually poured and molded against ficus leaves from her backyard. i think it's safe to say this upstart won't have to worry about being invited to next year's affair.


and as for this damsel's moniker, i'm a bit of a handwriting fetishist. marty's printing has on numerous occasions been mistaken for printed text with people asking about the cool font. so, in the end, it was marty's high precision penmanship that made me covet her so and not, as many suspect, her charm, beauty or candor. as for how i came to admire the new contender, i was doing dishes after the party and washing the solo plastic cups (remember ... ) when i ran into this one with her daughter's name interestingly printed on its rim and became smitten in front of my sudsy sink and open dishwasher.


although, if she emails me saying this is her engineer husband's handiwork, i may be in a bit of a pickle, literally.