The Great Big Wedding Approaches
More than a year after I asked Amanda to marry me, as I sit here on our little green couch in our tiny little apartment, the wedding day fast approaches. The apartment is full of evidence that confirms it: brown boxes; gift bags; favors; chalkboards; plants; crates; and baskets. Letters flood the mailbox with confirmations and regrets. Supplies are called in and shipped from Amazon, FedEx has agreed to assist, and UPS has kindly extended the contracts of their seasonal workers.
Rarer items are sought, haggled, and procured carefully on eBay. Unique, customized pieces are thoughtfully handcrafted on Etsy and delivered with quirky personalized notes. This is happening. It is real.
Read MoreThe End of A Glorious Mustache
When a man decides to grow a mustache, it is, to say the least, a serious decision. You put your reputation as a somewhat mediocre thirty-something on the line.
And, there is a very real chance that you will lose everything you’ve ever worked to achieve; a 500 square foot apartment with a drop-down ceiling, a collection of pretty cool headbands, and of course, the Pyrex collection you’ve built over several years of serious investment.
Read MoreThe Day I Got Sick and the Man In the Crosswalk Told Me He Was the Terminator
The day after I shaved my first mustache, a relentless and all consuming sickness came over me in the form of a terrible cold. My body would shiver, then sweat. My throat grew sore, and my muscles ached as if I had been lifting large weights as part of an intensive exercise regimen.
This has happened to me before — getting sick. I’m prone to these bouts, I’m a bonafide bubble boy with all the trimmings; allergies to dust mites, trees, nuts, cats; brittle and easily conquered by bacteria and viral attacks — such has been my life.
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As a 32-year-old man, I’ve come to learn that finding good pants never gets any easier. It is by nature a process designed to produce incredible moments of frustration. I know now that it’s not simply about finding a great pair of pants, but rather, the process, or journey, in which those pants are ultimately found and enjoyed. It is a quest.