A Long-winded Ramble About Nothing in Particular

It’s difficult getting back into the swing of writing after such a long break. It’s hard to know what to write about. What people want to read about. I could write something clever about how I went out to dinner with my family last night and could not remember the last time I had been out driving after dark. Or I could share how I finally convinced Ruanita that we needed a five-pound container of dark chocolate sea salt caramels the last time we were at Costco. And how I have eaten them with reckless abandon and now have two gigantic zits on my forty-year-old chin that can be seen from the International Space Station. Or I could regale you with the details of my current Harry Potter movie fixation. And that I am infinitely more excited than any grown adult really should be that I am going to watch the 6th film with Ruanita and the kids this evening. I could tell you how Ruanita and I had a date night planned tonight—babysitter lined up and everything—and opted to stay home in our pajamas, get take-out Vietnamese food and watch Harry Potter with the kids instead. Let’s see….I could write about my son’s 10th birthday party planned for tomorrow afternoon. We are going to have the party at the University of Minnesota Raptor Center. Lucas is excited to see the eagles and hawks and vultures up close. I am excited about chocolate cake from the world-renown Costco bakery. I could tell you about the coughing fit that seized my entire body last night right as I pulled up to the Dairy Queen drive through to order ice cream for the family. Try saying “Buster Bar” while expelling phlegm balls the size of a quarter. (And on a somewhat related note, someone please explain to me why Dairy Queen made the decision to go with Spanish peanuts in their Buster Bars. Is it so the little peanut skins can get caught in my wisdom teeth and cause me no shortage of annoyance?) Speaking of wisdom teeth, I have all four of mine and they hurt. Lately, they throb. Then my jaw begins to hurt. Then I get a headache. I need to go to the dentist. I hate the dentist. Even more so, however, I hate the thought of having said wisdom teeth ripped from their sockets and callously tossed in the trash. I already lost my appendix. Must we really consider even more of my body expendable? There will have to be abundant amounts of Novocain involved. Who am I kidding? I will have to be put out completely or the dentist may just rue the day he ever laid eyes on my zitty face.

Wow…the more I write the more incredibly dull my life sounds. Perhaps I should write less often instead. Keep the mystique going, you know?

Yea, right. Who am I kidding? There is no mystique. There is no great mystery to my life. It’s a nice life. A comfortable life. A happy life. I guess I can’t complain. I love my partner and she loves me. My kids are pretty damn awesome and seem to be getting cooler every day. I have a job that I like, which is incredibly rare, I know. My boss rocks. Aside from still coughing up mucous that has been lodged in the deepest nether regions of my lungs since Christmas Eve, I am feeling pretty damn happy these days.

Weird.