If you’re a faux-fur wearing plastic mousie, this is what can happen to you in our house. Miles hasn’t ever show much interest in chasing actual mice — although he loved watching them scamper around the kitchen the couple times they showed up in our old apartment — but if it’s a mousie we’re talking… Read More 13. a warning.
Hey, look — we painted our front porch last weekend! It’s all one color now! I started NaBloPoMo strong, but last week was fairly easy. With the dust-up over the uniforms, the upcoming Penn State game and our Angels, I had enough to write about to even give me a few extra posts. That momentum… Read More 12. sign of desperation.
One year ago today, I arrived at our new house in Pittsburgh, to spend the night for the first time. We had completed a nasty three-day stretch where we moved pretty much everything from our apartment in Butler to the new place, making the drive on Route 68 to I-79 to the Parkway North more… Read More home (plus 365).
I’m not sure if this is an old guy thing or not, but twice in the last two weeks — including last night, unfortunately — I’ve been absolutely unable to go to sleep. It might be that the brain won’t shut down; it might be that the cat is washing while he’s leaning on my… Read More bulleted.
In my three days of temporary bachelorhood, I have: Spent two evenings with the television. Spent a lot of time hanging out with Miles, who really misses Mrs. Crappy. Made white chili. Killed a growler of stout from Church Brew Works. Ate a frozen pizza and wings from Big Shot Bob’s. Cleaned the kitchen. Twice.… Read More out of control.
Seventeen years ago — give or take a couple weeks — I was walking through the offices of the student paper at OU when I noticed the new GA writer, the one with glasses and long hair. Whoa. Ten years ago today, the new girl and I got married. When I found Mrs. Crappy all… Read More ten.
Uncle Crappy 