Did I tell you the Bear had a stroke? Don't worry it was long ago, and there are no obvious lasting effects other than (once in a while) she won't shut up about it.
Last year the Bear and I went to see Lewis Black in San Diego -- we won't be going back. It's not the cost of tickets, or the airfare, or the hotel. My ass is used to getting screwed by them.
There's a list of advantages to only spending weekends with the spouse. Surprise visits is not one of them.
The Bear came down from Gilbert, and she was looking for a bowl to steal.
We often forget the impact we have on others. Here's a little reminder that came from The Boy (now age 29) through Facebook Messenger of what a shitty dad I am.
I learned something deep and dark about myself. If two of my friends ever go to hunt down the last white tiger on earth, the Bear and I would tag along, not say a fucking word, and laugh at all the wrong times. Sounds awful I know.
Went on the Alaska Cruise with the Bear. The forecast said cloudy and rain every day. Just what we wanted when we booked this trip for June. We figured it would have been over 100 degrees for a month in Arizona by then. We figured wrong.
The Bear and I inherited a grand-dog -- 12 pounds of a manipulating mutt -- and now it seems we can't go to dinner without her.
We were at the Bear's second cousin's wedding in New Mexico when it happened. I drank too much, and said something I thought was funny...
I tried to play volleyball, once. Nearly, got my nose broken (by the Bear) and almost got in a different fight. It was early in our relationship. Shortly after I ate the tamale husks to impress the Savages.