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… who went to the police academy. And they were each assigned very hazardous duties, like entertaining homosexuals for 48 years. Daylight was waning when the first batch of “Angels in Chains” figures made their way to my door this evening, and the lighting in my office will (regrettably) remain poor until I find a […]

Nothing I attempted to write tonight was worth reading and I considered going to bed without posting at all before deciding to keep myself honest. The reason I’m exhausted is fairly stupid: we got a new string trimmer. What (very) minimal setup it required — the video tutorial runs about 90 seconds — was embarrassingly

If you saw the title of this post and immediately heard Barbra Streisand’s bit-by-bits and piece-by-pieces, you should know that’s also what I thought of while gently assembling the potato truck earlier to verify everything fit.* The alignment is imperfect since it was photographed sans chassis (and glue), but I’d say it looks pretty nice

Since I’m short on time tonight, let’s resolve last week’s cliffhanger about the bubble-wrapped items that arrived in a box marked ‘fragile.’ Most of those bundles have been opened and as you can see, turning this into a not entirely horrible approximation of the potato truck from “Angels in Chains” will take quite an effort

Today, for the second time in a week, I was ‘on’ more often than not, so Crankenstein suggested we open a LEGO kit and get crackin’.* The one we selected has too many tiny delicate parts for me to construct it solo, but together we assembled two of its six bags of parts — comprising

It’ll be a long night here, as Crankenstein requested we watch part two of The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers. I couldn’t tell you its running time (naturally, she’s partial to the extended edition), but even if it was only 90 minutes it would feel like six hours, just as part one did

At today’s rheumatology checkup, which I nearly missed due to misplaced certainty that it was scheduled for early next Tuesday morning, the doctor asked how I’ve been doing.* I confessed that my left SI joint was bothering the hell out of me but declined a steroid injection, telling her I probably caused the problem myself

With a title like this I should probably write something sweeping and poignant about current challenges and how little of myself I sometimes recognize in my own existence. But I think that would be premature and needlessly dramatic, because some of what’s been nagging at me lately could be due to medication problems caused by

There are professional lectures of Crankenstein’s I could deliver in my sleep, so often has she rehearsed them with me. My responsibilities range from timing her to critiquing her performance or double-checking the slides for errors, and I usually try to anticipate the questions — from the inane to the adversarial — she might field

It seems appropriate that Mother’s Day coincided with the anniversary of Muriel’s adoption this year, seeing as she’s probably the closest Crankenstein and I will ever get to having a child. One of the first things I learned about her, even before the shelter’s coordinator put me in touch with her foster mom, was that