Twenty-Something

Although she's not been a live-in resident of the Den for several years now, that doesn't exempt our first-born, Our Lady of Awesome, from being honored, as is tradition, here on her birthday. Today is that day.

We're enormously proud of this girl (she's my daughter, and she'll always be 'my girl,' so no hate on the 'girl' reference). She strode into her twenties well and ticked a lot of things off her life's checklist:

• Graduated from university with honors
• Got married
• Dove into the working world
• Gave birth to our first grandchild
• Swam with some dolphins
• And hooked me up with waffle trucks in two states

All good great things. She has much to celebrate today. I'm sure her boys, Awesome and the Baby Awesome will treat her well. She deserves it. We'd love to be with her little family, celebrating too, but we'll make due with FaceTime.

Happy Birthday, Princess!

A ridiculously attired new dad and his Princess 

Cupid, Get Thee Hence

Truer words have never been uttered

Another Valentine's Day has come and gone. As has my steadfast and stubborn refusal to pay much heed to this day. I just can't won't do it. The reasons why are myriad and have been documented in several posts throughout the years here in the Den, so I'm not going to rehash it. What's worthy of discussion may be how deeply I've dug in my heels on this one...it's kind of crazy.

I'm not going to let some Zaftig little tyke from classical mythology, who bears a freakish and disturbing resemblance to one of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, Honey Boo Boo, named Cupid, dictate how I display my affection for she who I love the best on some given date on the calendar.

That said, it was good to take she who I love the best, the stunningly patient and mighty fine SML, to dinner last night. We joined two other couples at an Italian place and had a good meal and laughs. It was good to be out with the best friend I have ever had. I marvel each day at her goodness. I try to be better for her each day. Heaven knows that after twenty five years with me, she deserves it.

She deserves the best of everything. I've still got a ways to go to be the best, but I'm working on it. I am a decidedly lucky and blessed man. In spite of my irritation with the whole Valentine's Day thing and the dogged pursuits of Cupid, I am proud to declare how much I love the stunningly patient and mighty fine SML.

I (Don't) Got My Tight Pants On

All kinds of wrong

As a follow up to my last post, wherein I pondered the possibilities of sporting a caftan to ease the wear and tear on my incisions, I'm here to report on today's achievement. I wore pants for the first time in ten days. By pants, lest you think the last ten days has been a parade of open-backed, rump-baring hospital gowns, which it has not been, I mean something that isn't either a pajama bottom or sweats. I wore honest-to-goodness pants today.

I am delighted to report that I had them on for nearly seven hours before they were switched back to the sweats I've come to know and love the last ten days. It was a good test run for Sunday because it's back to Church and heaven knows, that is not a "pants optional" affair. Ever. And then Monday, it's back to work and again, not a place where sweats rule. So today's test run was a good one.

Also, I've never been a fan of tight pants. Except for an ill-advised period of my life wherein I incessantly wore favored a pair of acid-washed Marithe et Francois Girbaud jeans (guess the year!), I have steadfastly eschewed tight pants. There are all sorts of reasons for that, not the least of which is that I've tried to not have homes equipped with fun house mirrors, thus giving me an altered view of reality. Far too many people seem to have homes equipped with fun house mirrors. Seriously.

The horror of tight pants was brilliantly lampooned by Jimmy Fallon and Will Ferrell during a skit on "Late Night with Jimmy Fallon." It's a riot and it showcases the awesomeness that is Fallon. He did his last show this week as he prepares to take over "The Tonight Show." Jay Leno's horrific reign of terror is now over, assuming of course he does not hatch another blitzkrieg on Jimmy like he did Conan. I don't see that happening. So, in honor of the great Mr. Fallon and the fact that I could put pants back on today, I give you "I Got My Tight Pants On":

Dressing for comfort

One of the things that has dogged me most during my 'recovery' has been just how bad my incisions itch and how they seem to react in anger at the slightest touch. With four of them adorning my gut, this has made for some interesting clothing options. Picture if you will, or not if you're smart, me pulling my shirt up and crafting my own version of a halter top whenever I am not standing up. It's not pretty.

So I've asked myself how would others try to dress for comfort in a situation such as this? I thought of none other than that paragon of fatherhood, one Homer J. Simpson, the beloved drunken patriarch on "The Simpsons." Homer is no stranger to tight clothing irritating his gentle skin and at one point, he donned the following as a solution for dressing for comfort:

A zaftig Homer in a jaunty caftan

While my issue is not related to obscene weight gain, like the aforementioned Mr. Simpson, you can see from the picture, he seems to be enjoying the freedom and comfort of his caftan, which I think he got from a yard sale out front of Honey Boo Boo's double-wide. Seeing his joy got me to thinking. 'Could this work for me?' As I ponder going back to work here shortly, the thought of tucking a shirt into a pair of pants and then ensnaring all that in a belt with the sole purpose of enraging my incisions, how could I not ask, 'Could this work for me?'

If it were 1973 and I was an extra on the set of 'McMillan and Wife,' then yes, it would have worked like a charm! I could have even sewn my own (that's a lie - I can not sew):

More proof of just how awful the 70's were

Can you believe it? Neither could I. Alas, I know I can't pull this off. There's a reason (more like 10,000) the man's caftan craze never caught on. I will not be hatching a new fashion trend, sweeping down the halls of my place of employment, dressed for comfort in a caftan when I go back to work. No, no I won't. Instead, I may be falling back on the hope that I can get away with my shirt untucked. I'll just say I'm going through my hipster phase. Yeah, that'll work.