• Never underestimate the power of a twenty.

    My wallet was feeling flush with the unexpected weight of cash. I ran down stairs, to buy my lunch for a change, and whipped out my freshly minted twenty. The first thing I noticed was butterflies. “What the hell are yellow butterflies doing on my twenty dollar bill? Did someone spike my water bottle this morning?” I took a closer look and noticed they weren’t butterflies at all. They were little miniature “20”s in a random flock in the bill’s background. “Maybe I shouldn’t have drank that milk this morning… I thought it smelled a little off…”

    Chalk one up to those wiley artists at the treasury.

    Half way across the courtyard, still holding my bill in my hand, I was struck with a sense of power. I could feel the raw spending power of a twenty radiating from my bill. Sure, I carry a credit card everywhere I go, but you can’t just give your credit card to anyone (well, you could but it wouldn’t be advisable). Cash on the other hand is universal. With this bill I could buy twenty dollars worth of merchandise (plus tax) anywhere U.S. legal tender is accepted! Take that VISA!

    Then I bought my lunch and I was left with only a ten and change.

    Oh, how the mighty have fallen.

  • The dawning of a new trimester.

    In four days time the first trimester will be over. This is just the kind of milestone that warrants reflection. No, seriously.

    We’ve ushered in the concept of multiple birth to our consciousness. We’ve had climactic doctor’s visits. We’ve listened to the sound of heart beats seemingly in stereo. We’ve discovered Beth is clever enough to notice when a bulge appears in mommy’s belly, and we’ve learned that she has no interest in a good luck rub. We’ve looked at pictures of mothers expecting twins at various stages of pregnancy with awe and fear. We’ve been unable to find any before and after pictures. We had our first argument over pre-delivery house prep. We’ve begun to replace skepticism and fear with hope and expectation.

  • A man’s culpability never ends.

    I’ve heard it said that being a fighter pilot can be described as 10 hours of boredom followed by 30 seconds of terror. The same can be said of being a husband. Tonight was a case in point.

    I was sitting in the living room, minding my own business, with my iBook firmly entrenched right where it belongs – in my lap. I had been there for quite some time, so this was not a sudden development. Cheryl had walked back and forth periodically, her manner mild, saying nothing, and giving nary a hint as to what was soon to come. I was right smack in the middle of my comfort zone, when like a predatory creature of the sea Cheryl flashed in for the kill. “Why are you sitting there? There’s so much I want to get done! YOU HAVEN’T STARTED PAINTING THE HOUSE YET!!!” Beleaguered from this sudden and unexpected onslaught, the only thing I could think to say was, “when did we talk about painting the house?” “IT WAS ABOUT A YEAR AGO, AND YOU STILL HAVEN’T STARTED!!!” Knowing my cause was lost, I put on my guilty look, said nothing, and set out to find something productive to do; anything at all that would exorcise this demon that had suddenly possessed my wife. I made my way to the laundry room, hoping a lint offering would suffice. Unfortunately, my path to the laundry was blocked by my possessed wife, and vengeance was clearly in her eye. “WHY DON’T YOU DO SOME LAUNDRY!?!” Having all initiative stripped from my arsenal, I lamely offered “I was just about to do that.” Now completely frustrated, I took the offensive. “Cheryl, I don’t even remember the last time we talked about painting. Did we first talk about it a year ago or last talk about it a year ago?” Barely able to constrain her disdain, but a little less certain, she replied “ah, maybe we last talked about it a year ago, but that was only because I wanted to give you a chance to do it on your own.” Seeing that the tide was turning and momentum was mine for the taking, I took what looked to be my only chance at redemption. “Cheryl, we never start a major project at home individually. It’s always something that we discuss and plan together. Why would you think that I would go out and spend all of that money my self without discussing the particulars with you?”

    A funny thing happened next.

    Cheryl laughed.

    Once again, I was stunned. I was fully expecting an eruption, but instead I got a laugh. These moments don’t come too often, but when they do I briefly wonder what I’ve gotten myself into.

    This entry has been posted with the expressed verbal consent of the woman portrayed in the entry. No actual husbands were harmed during the writing or posting of this entry.