MeSoFun Blog

Am I suddenly shy? Have nothing to say? No, I'm suddenly married again. TW and I are hiking, eating and enjoying New England. We have photos to back that assertion up. And my work schedule hasn't allowed any blogging this week. Unusual, I know. The good news is I'm stocking up on material. And, since good writing comes from pain, you'll be "happy" to know she leaves Tuesday for Boston. What's bad for me is good for you. Or at least it's entertaining.

Note: This blog fell apart over the last two weeks. Why? Partly, it's Blogger's fault, since it was down for a solid 24 hours before we left on our trip. Partly, it's our hotel's ridiculous $25 PER DAY fee for Internet usage. And, partly, I needed a break. But now we're back. Here's what you missed: Free, on-street parking in Manhattan. It can be done. I love New York. Never thought I'd say that. Growing up in the Midwest, it sort of scared me. Plus you heard people say things like, "Too many people" and "Not enough space" and it kind of gets in your head that you wouldn't possibly like New York. I love New York. TW and I headed down about 10 days ago. We were going to the Dominican (meh) and flying out of JFK offered a nonstop option. So we spent a leisurely Saturday in New York. No, really. It's possible. We left our hotel around 11:30 a.m. and headed for China Town. We procured some free on-street parking. And we walked three-q

Tunisia, 2011! Nobody wants details. That's my theory on only a couple of very specific moments in life. When you are sick, nobody in their right mind is interested in the details. When I was a boss at work, people would call in sick and start to give me the details. I don't want details. Just call in, announce in a chipper voice that you're sick, and hang up the phone. Legally, I can't question it. You say you're sick, then you're sick. If you want to add a flourish of embellishment, just tell your boss you aren't sure what it is but you have diarrhea and you will not be in for work. Only somebody who is truly starved for conversation will ask questions about that. On a happier note, TW and I are off on vacation next week. I've seen other friends updating Facebook from the beach or blogging about mai tais. What do you, dear readers, want to read next week? There's not that much to say about Tunisia, our destination of choice, that you don't alre

What you can't hear is my dog yipping at me from the car, 100 feet away. I'm sick. That's why you're reading this, a stat-filled, hodge-podge blog. Damnit, it's your right as an American blog reader to have the truth. Just for fun. * Why do you keep referring to P90X? It's my nickname for this blog experiment of mine. I committed to blogging 90 times every week day to provide some consistent entertainment to friends and whomsoever chances upon this blog. We're about halfway through and are getting about 100 page views a day, which is fine. * Actually, you might not be an American. Or in America, at least. Peru (hi, Ross and Yesika!), Canada (Brit!) and the United Kingdom (Andy Stevens!) keep checking in regularly. But Denmark? Why has this blog been viewed 25 times in Denmark? My Mother approves. * Funniest Google searches to find this blog: "double stuff oreo hydrogenated oils" "red leather pants" -- Yes. "Dave Nevanen" * Vi

She said yes. We've covered that ground before. I'll never write 5,800 words while telling any one story again. But there are plenty of stories to tell. Marriage is full of stories. This is the first in an occasional series exploring the lighter, darker and goofy sides of marriage. There were a few logistical hurdles for Amy and I to deal with after we got engaged October 15, 2004. For starters, she lived in Duluth, MN (current temperature: 42), I lived in Salt Lake City. We talked about what kind of wedding we wanted and when we wanted it. But there was one conversation of most importance: Where are we going to live? I had a career that I was very much enjoying and really liked the weather in Salt Lake. She had never lived outside of the state of Minnesota. I talked her into Utah, but she didn't need much. It was an adventure and we had each other, so who cares where we live? As it turned out, the move from Minnesota was adventure enough. It was a roadtrip, and when I thi

I believe this is The Pioneer Woman®'s recipe. I like food. You will like this. Also, it only takes about 15 minutes. Optional addition: a couple pieces of diced chicken. 1.5 pounds linguine noodles (I subbed in trader joe's rice noodles. More authentically thai than linguine) 5 cloves garlic, peeled (who uses garlic cloves? buy the pre-chopped stuff and use twice as much) 1 cup chunky peanut butter 3/4 cup low sodium soy sauce (or Bragg's Amino Acids. Try it! It's an awesome soy sauce and low sodium) 5 tablespoons red wine vinegar 6 tablespoons brown sugar 4 tablespoons red chile oil I used something called Mongolian Fire Oil (a House of Tsang product)) 1/4 cup olive oil 3/8 cup seasame oil (or 1/2 cup olive oil) 1 large bunch cilantro, roughly chopped 4 green onions, sliced thin 1 packet of "A Taste of Thai" Spicy Peanut Bake (2 come per box) 1. Boil linguine. While it's cooking ... 2. Make the dressing in a food processor or blender. Add garlic, peanut

First, my disclaimers. I limited this list to albums I actually own and have listened to obsessively at one point or another in my life. There are omissions. I own 10 Pearl Jam CDs and about as many Metallica albums, but I couldn't find one album that warranted being ahead of any of the 20 here. It's heresy, I know. I *tried* to avoid greatest hits albums — notably, Tom Petty's (for the song Last Dance With Mary Jane), The Stones, and Springsteen all fell into this catch — but one greatest hits album still made my top two. I'm like that. Contrary to my own rules. 1. Led Zeppelin, albums I, II, IV and Physical Graffiti No band deserves to be on this list four times, even if I have a tattoo of the band's symbols on my upper arm, which I do. But I can't choose just one. The first album was the statement album, with the sound that separated Zeppelin from every other band and paved the way for Black Sabbath, Metallica, Van Halen, et al. II just rocks. Every song on I

In all likelihood, you have not been waiting for this post to appear. On Thursday, March 10, I kicked off this blog . Hard to believe, I know. It seems like an eon ago. We've been through a lot, including Tuesday's random Russian Google Lobster Attack (that's me, optimizing my Google search results). In that opening blog, I told you I was going to take this past Tuesday night off to go see a concert, in an effort to drag my lazy, apathetic butt out of the house. As usual, part of me didn't want to leave the house pre-show. Afterward, there was no such remorse or doubt. Every Tuesday night, a local band covers an entire classic rock album. Last night, local band Station85 covered The Cars, the album released by the band The Cars in 1978. Holy. Carp. I intentionally did not listen to the album in the weeks leading up to the show. Which begs the question: What's your pre-show routine? Listen to the band ad nauseum and then sing along as they play the music verbatim? O

I hang around too many photographers. Before starting with the normal jocularity,  I'd be remiss if I didn't say hello to our new Russian readers. There were 73 page views yesterday of this blog from Russia. That's about 73 higher than normal. Normally, this would be a source only of amusement. But since my personal information was among the 70 million stolen from the PlayStation network, it's entirely possible somebody is trying to gleen information about me. Sorry about placing that fraud alert on my credit! As a Russian minor, I can translate that: Davaytya ceegrayum futbol! OK, that means "Let's go play soccer!" Also, I don't have a cyrillic keyboard. But anyway. Thanks for joining in the fun. Now let's hear about flowers. I drive by a little park with giant flower beds every day on my way to work. They rotate the flowers in there based on the season, so there's frequently something blooming throughout the summer and early fall. Riveting, n

We don't get out much here. Perhaps you've heard this line: As of April 1, I had filled my car up with gas five times. Since Thanksgiving. That's part of the reason you're reading this blog. I was fed up with my own lack of drive. Get it? Oh, that was terrible. Some sort of motorized contraption. For the fourth day in a row, it was sunny and spectacular today. I busted through a morning schedule that included writing 1,300 words, editing 700 more words, and working out. I wanted to do ... something. Anything, really, was better than sitting inside. There will be plenty of that to come next week, judging by the forecast. I threw Daisy into the car and we headed down to Old Orchard Beach, about 15 miles south of us. Despite its reputation as a fun tourist town, or perhaps because of it, I had never visited OOB. Technically, I broke the law today. But whatever. There were maybe 15 people on a mile-long stretch of beach, including a guy with a thong on, laying on his chest

It seems like anything I write will be even more frivolous than usual today. Maybe you want the dancing monkey. I'll be back later today with some completely unrelated to Osama bin Laden thoughts.