The Gearhead complained that we never do anything together. I was surprised; I thought he was perfectly content tinkering away on his cars in the barn, (in our garage, tucked…
The Gearhead collects stuff. [Gearhead edits: hence the moniker] [Wife edits: don’t you love how the Gearhead leans toward formal English when waxing eloquently about the barn? He reserves redneck…
Some things the Gearhead says, with some things I say in return: “What’s for dinner? If you say Quinoa there’s going to be trouble.” [wife edits: quinoa it is.] “I…
Wife: “I took a picture of you picking wild leeks for my blog” Gearhead: “What blog? You haven’t written one in months.” It’s true. How can I explain it? Is…
When I arrived home the other evening, after a day that started at 5 a.m. and still required a kid shuttle to swim practice within the hour, I noticed a…
Cartwheel back into the carnival that is returning to school. It’s not just the kids returning; I signed up for a creative writing course. For fun. And yes, our house…
Picture this: every time I prepare to drive the new car– it’s a BMW, we’ll get to this in a minute–-the gearhead follows me, explaining the myriad things that…
Early Sunday morning I lay in bed deliberating. The week’s dishes weren’t washed. No pots were clean. The kids wouldn’t do the washing up, mostly because they’re too short to…
Everyone wants to be on TV don’t they? I can answer that question honestly and say that I don’t. Really. [wife edits: I have a fear of public speaking]. But…
My mother had a visceral relationship with pastry that I was close to inheriting. For her, learning to cook was a prerequisite for marriage dictated by my father, alongside learning…