Backpacking Dad

I think it’s possible for the very same person to be “the marrying type” and “a commitment-phobe”.

For instance, I moved across the continent for some girl when I was nineteen, married her at twenty-one, and didn’t blink when we found out Erin would be making her presence known.

But for the life of me, I can’t commit to bringing the free yellow pages in off the stoop. I walk past it at least twice every day and can neither bring it to the recycling with me, nor pick it up and put it next to the phone.

It’s too much pressure.

I can’t always think of things to do with my time. But thankfully, Jenny the Bloggess is doing some of my thinking for me. I ripped off her idea for time-wasting and made a movie.

I’m not really as interested in ritual suicide as you might think, though.

Photo courtesy of Disneyland Grandma, who graciously babysat for an entire weekend in January as we ran away for our 10th anniversary. Also, I totally edited out the huge snot trail coming out of her right nostril.