Coffeebot

Twenty-Twelve

2012-02-08T06:59:53Z

I can’t believe it’s February, already. No, wait. I can’t believe it’s been two years since I’ve written a blog post. Dang. I specifically blame the toddler and cats.

In any case, I’m trying to turn that around. That’s a promise I’ve made to myself many times in the past, and I’ve never kept it. Hell, I’m pretty sure I never wrote anything after the “I’m going to post more” entry. This time around, I’m trying to keep accountable with folks nearby – namely my wife and father-in-law. We haven’t set down any formal rules, but the goal is one post a week. Even if someone has to write five sentences about how much they don’t want to write five sentences. A post is a post.

Furthermore, I’m aiming to complete a project a month. Or try to at any rate. I haven’t planned my year yet, but my January project was an outdoor cat box. February will be completing my new bag. So, keep an eye out for those posts. They’ll have nifty pictures and stuff, too. And it’ll all be CC licensed, so, feel free to ~~steal~~ repeat and expand upon my ideas.

If you haven’t noticed, I’ve done away with the Labs portion of the site. And Candace’s entries. I’ve consolidated all of my work here, and her posts are over on The Soundtrack Series (or will be, once I complete the new site). It’s all part of a crazy scheme to simplify. Or maybe it’s like having separate bank accounts: we know the other has something, somewhere, but we don’t care enough to share. I don’t know. If you have any theories, feel free to share them in the comments.

Ass-Kicking Cheerleader

2012-02-08T06:59:53Z

Sixteen-some years ago (give or take a few, because my simple math skills suck), I met this girl. I thought she was cute and all, but to be honest, I was a little turned off because she started hitting on me before we had memorized one another’s names. Okay, before I could remember her name (she memorized the previous year’s yearbook). For the record, her name was Candace. In any case, it wasn’t until a dare that we ended up dating. Yes, a dare. Though, let’s be honest: neither of us felt forced into it.

After a lot of crazy ups and downs, we went off to different colleges out of state. Then, we’d see each other at church, or hanging out with mutual friends. That typically resulted in us hooking up. The hookup, naturally, resulted in some sort of fight, and we’d go back to school pissed at one another. This went on for another four or five years.

Finally, she verbally and psychologically kicked my ass. But in a good way. I was sort of a d-bag at the time, Candace called me on it, and I deserved it. So, we got married.

That’s right. I married her because she kicked my ass.

That’s one of the many reasons I love her. Candace tells me how it is, and lets me know when I’m out of line. Don’t get me wrong &emdash; she’s not a nag, or high maintenance (in the classical sense). She just wants me to be the best I can be, and won’t settle for anything less.

But, a big part of not settling is being on my side. She’s my cheerleader. More often than not, all I need is encouragement, and knowing that I’m on the right track. She does that. A lot. Way more than the ass kicking.

This last year or so has been a rough one for me. There’s been a lot going on that quickly ran me into the ground. When I get ovewhelmed, I retreat. Like an ostrich, I shove my head in the sand. Or, I turtle-up into my shell. Candace wouldn’t let me do that. For that, I am thankful. Somehow, she always knew exactly what I needed, and when I needed it. Most of the time, it was encouragement and cheerful pressure. But there were times when I needed to get told off, and she did so with grace and tact. Always the right thing at the right time. Never demeaning or condescending &emdash; which is the important part.

That’s my Valentine. My ass-kicking cheerleader.

I love you, sweetheart, and I wouldn’t have anyone else in the world.

A Pair of Surprises

2010-01-18T21:04:44Z

So, January has brought with it a few interesting developments. I’ll tackle the more believable one, first.

For Christmas, my Secret Santa* at work gave me an Amazon gift certificate. In the weeks preceding, I had taken with the idea of trying my hand at knitting and crocheting. But, with our funds in a crunch, I couldn’t justify the purchase of tools that I might never use (I know, i know…needles and yarn are cheap; but still, strapped is strapped). A gift certificate is like free money, and there wasn’t anything at the Big-A that I wanted, so I indulged in some knitting needles, yarn, and a crochet hook.

Knitting and crochet are hard. Seriously. I would have never thought that looping yarn over and over again could be so confusing and stressful. But, I’m not giving up! I think I’m getting the hang of crocheting, since I’ve found it somewhat easier. Knitting, though, is entirely lost on me; I must be missing something. Perhaps Stacy will swing by one evening and show me what I’m doing wrong (and in the spirit of opposite-spouse-skill-training, perhaps Aaron will teach Candace how to defrag a hard drive). Yes, Stace, if you’re reading this, that’s a hint!

So that’s the first surprise. Nate’s doing “girly craft.” Now for the next. Are you sitting down?

I’ll wait.

Okay…here it is: I joined Twitter.

I know what you’re saying…and shut up. It was a little hard for me to swallow at first, too. Now, I’m not there to tell you what’s on my sammich, or when I’m in the loo (though I might, sometime, no promises though), but instead to follow a few folks who provide interesting info that they don’t post elsewhere. Mainly the Make and Craft blogs, as well as Heat Sync Labs. I’m sure there’s a few others I’ll come across, too. But, I do find it interesting to pop some info up there every now and again.

So, if you happened to be inclined,┬áfollow me.

*Thanks, V! (not that you’re even reading this…)

That is YOUR Daughter

2010-01-16T08:06:15Z

Last night, while I was playing with Cate before we all went out for dinner, I noticed her carrying around random articles of clothing. Dirty stuff. The stuff we cast aside before bedtime and we’re too tired to accurately hit the hamper (or even care to try). I also noticed that, hey, these things aren’t coming back! So I tailed the little monster to see where she was taking my socks.

Lo and behold, she was depositing them in her own hamper. Grab a dirty sock (or shirt, or onesie, or whatever) trot to the hamper, drop it in. Wash, rinse, repeat. She needed a warmer outfit before we went out, so as she was running around, I managed to wrangle off her shirt and pants, and politely requested that she put them in her hamper. She did so, with great pride.

Candace, that is YOUR daughter. I certainly didn’t teach her that.

So, this morning, Candace was sorting laundry downstairs, and sure enough, Cate’s hamper was filled with clothes. After Candace had emptied it. Half of it was Cate’s, the rest was a conglomeration of shoes, toys, and clean clothes from last night’s load.

I think it’s funny. Candace thinks it’s natural. That is YOUR daughter, hon.

cat

2009-12-12T20:58:46Z

Candace gets to post cute stories about Cate, Christmas Trees and photo shoots.

I can’t even send an instant message because I have a fourteen pound monstrosity trying to drink and/or spill my chocolate milk.

Hon, remind me why we got a cat, again?