Yeah, I know. I’m not very marketable. But I sure am durable.
I am a father of three children and our house is filled with toys.
My kids love them and play with them. They even have a toy room, not that they ever respect its boundaries. They are all under the age of 10, so toys matter, not videogames and the internet. Not much yet, anyway.
It’s all about cars, soldiers, teddy bears, bows and arrows and card games and dolls and tanks and costumes.
These take them into worlds of dinosaurs and wars and fields of wild horses. And to fairy castles.
The problem is that many toys are crap. They don’t last. They break, they fall apart and they get thrown out. [continue reading…]
Yeah, I know. My brows are getting rather bushy.
I can still surf, run and swim.
In these things, my age isn’t a big deal at 44.
My age can be seen in other ways, like with my receding hairline. The barber told me so. He was shaving my hair off (to disguise the receding hairline) and took a look at my eyebrows and the rouge strands going this way and that and said, “Whoa, that’s heavy, man!”
I didn’t give him a tip.
I guess it could be a romance…
I write stories for this blog with a pen or pencil.
I write longhand in a notebook that doubles for my work as a reporter, and then I type the stories on the computer and edit a bit for the final piece.
It’s pretty simple.
The best part of the process, of course, is the creation of the stories themselves. That comes from watching the kids and all their interactions and the interpretations they make of life. That’s pretty much the source of everything that goes into this blog.
It gets damn fun, too.
And sometimes things happen that are so funny that I’ve got to write them down right then and there. [continue reading…]
