My Father Ate Really Weird Things

My father was a farmer, not a foodie. He ate and drank normal things most of the time, of course — steak a favorite, maybe a Beck’s beer. Or at night, a blackberry brandy. Or a blended Scotch like Dewar’s. But between the margins lived very curious choices of food. He’d eat whole cloves of garlic, raw. Munch, munch, munch. The resultant breath potent enough to punch a hole through a vampire’s breastbone and turn his heart to strongly-scented ash. Horseradish could be grated onto anything. He’d also eat that... Read The Rest →

Transmissions From Toddlertown: The First Year

It's been an awesome year in the truest sense of the word. Just as he's different than from when he emerged into this world, I'm different from when he emerged. IEverything has changed and it has changed for the better. As Jonathan Coulton sings, "You ruined everything -- in the nicest way."

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