Tag Archives | family stuff

In the Cellar


Monday was yet another windy day in mid-Michigan, and other than some brief time reintroducing myself to the dread-mill, lifting heavy things for no reason, and my thrice-weekly trip to the grocery store, I did nothing.

I did manage to work on losing what’s left of my mind by going through and processing some photos I took late last July during a brief visit home to Pennsylvania.

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Apparently, It’s Tuesday


As I start to type this, it’s 11:04 AM on Tuesday. I’ve been awake for just 12 minutes. And I fully admit, I had to quickly glance at the upper right corner of my monitor to see what day it is. Isn’t it just one long-ass pointless pandemic of a day?

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It Just Be Like That

A former mountain biker turned chubby part-time cyclist/full-time slacker with a camera recently said, “I suppose February will be bringing more of the same. Good thing, the same isn’t so bad.” And you know what? That chubby slacker was right!

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Pre Thundersnow Thanks

Lately, I’ve been a bit too lax in my updates on doing stuff. Mostly because I realize now—more than ever—that no one wants to read about a chubby, fair-weather cycling slacker who spends most of his time wandering around the woods with his camera and lifting heavy things for no reason in the gym. But hey, there are pictures!

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No Future From the Past

One of the worst things about my brain—and there are many—is that I don’t see the future. That’s not some suicide watch bullshit, that is just me saying that beyond the vision of my son graduating high school and moving on to college in a few years, I see nothing other than what is on my calendar next week.

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Dealing With Black Dogs

I’ve never been a great writer, but enjoy writing; thus, the continued publication of this blog. Sorry?

However, in the past couple of months, my posts have become more subpar than usual. One of the major factors has been the appearance of Lola (the dog) in my life. I love her, but she’s a puppy and puppies need near constant attention lest ye have your living room shat upon and chewed to bits. Every week she gets a little better, but finding moments of peace to sit down and write can be difficult when home alone.

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