MeSoFun Blog

For those that missed them, here are Parts One , Two , Three , Four , and Five . Last one. Then, because I believe in the power of dreams, I'm going to take my shot at being a NASCAR driver and blog about it. Let me know if you need cigarettes or chewing tobacco. I lied to you. Right there in the final paragraph of Part V. I made it sound like, on a drive back from Los Angeles, I waited until Cedar City, Utah, to call Amy. Not true. First, I called her outside of Las Vegas. That call was just to satisfy the voice in my head saying, "Call Amy" over and over again. It was 9 a.m. Central Daylight Time. She was at work and I knew it. Voicemail. No need to leave a message. Done and done. She didn't have my Utah cell phone number. She would have no idea who had called. Take that, voice inside my head. Then, as previously mentioned, the voice got incessant. "Call Amy. Call Amy. Call Amy," it said. Fine, I decided in St. George, Utah. I'll wait until Cedar C...

For those that missed them, here are Parts One , Two , Three and Four . Only two left (with an epilogue). Then, as suggested by a reader, I'm going to take up a Sister Wife , to promote more rom-com blog posts. So stay tuned for that. The canine weight loss plan. Available at www.petfinder.com Some people go into a tailspin after a breakup. To an extent, I fit that profile for a couple of months, but it turned into a wonderful positive. I lost all appetite. Which was actually great. I capitalized on the lack of appetite and joined a gym. I lost 40 pounds in three months. It helps that I had a spaz for a chocolate lab, named Duke. He is fondly remembered by our new puppy, Daisy. But you know that already. Something snapped in me when Amy and I broke up. I started eating right. I attended an awesome church in Duluth, The Vineyard . I started writing. I do that when I need an outlet. Perhaps you've noticed. Most important, I matured. Instead of wanting acceptance from wo...

Welcome back. If you missed it, here are parts One , Two and Three . You'll most likely want to start at the beginning and work your way forward. But who am I to tell *you* how to live your life? For those of you waiting to hear about Paul Tschida, hang in there. He's coming back. If you're reading this blog just to see your name, it's possible that will happen as well. I have a funny memory for details. I was about this mature. And I still wear this jacket. I'm not going to tell you much about the six months — from August, 2002 to February, 2003 — that Amy and I dated. We were a couple. And not always a successful one. Ever spend six months trying to put a square peg in a round hole? I hate geometry even more now. Amy was rather prim and proper during this period of her life. More so than she is now. More so by a factor of 5. She went to a church that was fairly prim and proper, Lakeview Covenant, up on the hill overlooking Lake Superior. People there wore...

If you're just joining us, here's Part I and Part II . "I'm crazy about you and I want to be your boyfriend." I've never thought about getting a tattoo with those words, but it doesn't sound half-baked, entirely, now that I'm thinking about getting Tattoo No. 3. The existing two are ill-conceived Hanson Brothers tattoos. Bygones. I hate ending on cliffhangers. You sort of have to wonder, especially if you're female, what did Amy say when I offered up that line? Nothing, really. Nothing I remember. She smiled. I smiled. We talked more and, after an hour in her apartment at 2020, we said our goodbyes. No kissing. Still . She smiled a lot but agreed to nothing. As far as I knew. I retreated to my shared/rented home in Duluth with one Kelly Rajesky. Over the ensuing hour, Amy hit the phone lines. She called her Mom. She called her best friend, Kate. Eventually, she called Joe, the guy she was supposed to be attending wedding festivities with ove...

Welcome to today's edition of Delila After Dark. Love someone. For those of you who missed it, here's Part One of the most random, mismatched and wonderful couple. In the spring of 2002, I was giddy about moving from Vermont back to my home state. My career was advancing. I had a job in Duluth. I would be near friends and family. These were all very good things. An old friend, Paul Tschida, put me in contact with a girl in Duluth who would help me find an apartment. msamj2001@ was about all I knew of Amy. Setting the scene in Morris. Paul had met Amy at the University of Minnesota-Morris. He was visiting a friend of ours, Mark Strege, who attended the school with Amy, though she didn't know Mark. On a Friday night, Amy decided to do laundry. That's where she ran into Paul, who was shooting pool in the vicinity of the washing machines, which is pretty unlikely, if you think about it. You go to visit a friend at a college campus and you end up doing shooting pool on a F...

Let me tell you about Paul Tschida, the only reason I am married to The Wife. We met in seventh grade. He's the smart guy in the math class that I'm drowning in, taught by Mrs. Duberstien. Luckily, he had no problem helping me. And by "helping me" I mean letting me copy his homework. Sorry, Mom. We were fast friends. Decidedly in the "nobodies" group in junior high, we hung out a lot. Entering 10th grade, the start of high school in our school district, we began playing basketball every day during summer. There were a couple other regulars. Emmerson Ward and Mark Strege were the usual suspects. Mark had a car, so that was nice. Chuck Ressler and, I think, Dan Englund joined the crew. It was a great summer of hoops and ice cream at Selma's, a tiny shop in Afton, Minnesota.  Hmm. I wonder how it all ends. Once high school started, we drifted. I drifted, rather. I was more concerned with being cool than with hanging out with old buddies. Not that I ...