Category: All Sorts

Similar to what you saw in Wait, Do I Have A Problem?, sometimes the universe tosses indicators your way that make you realize you might have strayed outside of the bounds of normal behavior. My fiancé and I historically tend to enjoy a glass of wine or two with dinner. It never feels like a big deal until we notice that the wine rack is empty and we need to make a second liquor store run in the middle of the week. That starts to make us wonder if we drink too much.

My fiancé likes to entertain the notion that we should cut back. I don’t really see a problem with what we do though. A bottle a night may sound like a lot, but is it really? Two glasses a night to unwind after work doesn’t seem so dramatic. Everyone is allowed a vice or two and it isn’t like we’ve crossed into problem territory.

Oh, fine. That does sound like a cop out. We’ll start cutting back.

I’m starting to burn out on living in the city, so this is a conversation that happens in my home about once a week. Don’t get me wrong, I love where I live, but I’m getting tired of being constantly surrounded by people. I’m tired of the sounds and smells, and I miss peace and quiet. I love the idea of having a backyard where I can relax in private and my dog can play off-leash. I love the idea of being surrounded by trees that are thriving and not sickly/gasping for air. I love the idea of hearing birds instead of cars, and smelling fresh air instead of garbage and urine.

However, my fiancé is basically a hobbit. No, I don’t mean that she’s short and fat with hairy feet. Well, she is on the shorter side, but she’s actually in great shape and quite pretty. No hairy feet either. Instead, what I mean is that food is one of the central preoccupations of her life. She loves to cook and she loves to eat. It’s one of the few uncomplicated pleasures she has. So, whenever I bring up the idea of moving out of the city and into the suburbs, this is her response. I’m not as big of a foodie as she is, but it’s always been enough to convince me.

Who knows, maybe Hoot Deconstructed will take off enough at some point that I could afford a little cabin in the woods somewhere. The dog and I can play outside, and my fiancé could cook whatever she pleases as often as she wants. Maybe someday…

My fiancé and I aren’t planning on having kids, so we give all of that energy to our dog Hurley. For all intents and purposes, Hurley is our child. However, I’ve learned the hard way that people with kids really don’t like it when you try to relate to their kid stories with dog stories. Even if they are the same damn story about the same damn thing.

To be serious though, I get it. Of course a dog is not the same as a kid. But, please bear in mind that my dog fills that void for me. She’s my family and she’s the closest thing to a child that I’ll ever have. She is one of the most important parts of my life. So, please forgive me if I slip up. I promise that I do so out of joy and not malice.

I love scary movies. My fiancé and dog do not. I try to cut them both some slack and not watch these when they’re around, but this is still a pretty common scene in my home.

I can’t exactly explain why I like scary movies so much. I’d love to be able to boast that I don’t get scared, but that’d be a lie. I love these because they make me scared. Now, to be clear, I’m not talking about creepy disturbing torture films like Saw, Hostel, or The Hills Have Eyes. The makers of those movies have confused terror with disgust. A true horror film will provoke the imagination. It’ll suggest just enough to let your deepest fears and nightmares run amok. It’ll make you feel alive.

When my fiancé and I first moved in together, I said I didn’t want the dog to be allowed up on the couch. That lasted for about a week. I strategically retreated and said ok, it’s fine if Hurley sits on the couch with us, but I don’t ever want her on the bed. That lasted for a few months. Then, there was a storm and Hurley woke us up pacing back and forth, shaking and whining. I have a heart, so yeah, Hurley is now allowed to sleep at the foot of the bed. The new line is that she’s never under the sheets. It’s stood for 4 years so far and I consider it a win.