Sixteen-some years ago (give or take a few, because my simple math skills suck), I met this girl. I thought she was cute and all, but to be honest, I was a little turned off because she started hitting on me before we had memorized one another's names. Okay, before I could remember her name (she memorized the previous year's yearbook). For the record, her name was Candace. In any case, it wasn't until a dare that we ended up dating. Yes, a dare. Though, let's be honest: neither of us felt forced into it.

After a lot of crazy ups and downs, we went off to different colleges out of state. Then, we'd see each other at church, or hanging out with mutual friends. That typically resulted in us hooking up. The hookup, naturally, resulted in some sort of fight, and we'd go back to school pissed at one another. This went on for another four or five years.

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I can't believe it's February, already. No, wait. I can't believe it's been two years since I've written a blog post. Dang. I specifically blame the toddler and cats.

In any case, I'm trying to turn that around. That's a promise I've made to myself many times in the past, and I've never kept it. Hell, I'm pretty sure I never wrote anything after the "I'm going to post more" entry. This time around, I'm trying to keep accountable with folks nearby -- namely my wife and father-in-law. We haven't set down any formal rules, but the goal is one post a week. Even if someone has to write five sentences about how much they don't want to write five sentences. A post is a post.

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So, January has brought with it a few interesting developments. I'll tackle the more believable one, first.

For Christmas, my Secret Santa* at work gave me an Amazon gift certificate. In the weeks preceding, I had taken with the idea of trying my hand at knitting and crocheting. But, with our funds in a crunch, I couldn't justify the purchase of tools that I might never use (I know, i know...needles and yarn are cheap; but still, strapped is strapped). A gift certificate is like free money, and there wasn't anything at the Big-A that I wanted, so I indulged in some knitting needles, yarn, and a crochet hook.

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Last night, while I was playing with Cate before we all went out for dinner, I noticed her carrying around random articles of clothing. Dirty stuff. The stuff we cast aside before bedtime and we're too tired to accurately hit the hamper (or even care to try). I also noticed that, hey, these things aren't coming back! So I tailed the little monster to see where she was taking my socks.

Lo and behold, she was depositing them in her own hamper. Grab a dirty sock (or shirt, or onesie, or whatever) trot to the hamper, drop it in. Wash, rinse, repeat. She needed a warmer outfit before we went out, so as she was running around, I managed to wrangle off her shirt and pants, and politely requested that she put them in her hamper. She did so, with great pride.

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Candace gets to post cute stories about Cate, Christmas Trees and photo shoots.

I can't even send an instant message because I have a fourteen pound monstrosity trying to drink and/or spill my chocolate milk.

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