So I want to make clear, first of all, that my fear of drawers is NOT this kind of fear. They don't cause me to jump in fright. And I lose very little in the way of bejeezus when I see them. However, like Honey's fear, the root cause of my drawer phobia may indeed have something to do with a general uneasiness when it comes to magic and all things supernatural.

Hi. I am a brand.

One of the side-effects of a guilt like mine is I'm terrible around cops.

One of C's marketable business skills is boiling complicated things down to their simple essence.

Just to be clear, when C says 'quality time,' she means she will watch anime while I go to the beach to catch up on the latest bikini fashions.

In all the places C and I have lived before New Jersey, I've always been aware that our neighbors could potentially hear us. And I'm not just referring to during the, you know ... play times. I'm talking about during casual conversations. Fully clothed. Just talking about things like tea. Or grits. Or the Tao of JD in Scrubs.

I've got a Tumblr blog and a few new content feeds, which I wanted to tell you about. But first, if you've been reading this blog for a while, I have to take a moment to ask: Are you okay?

One way to relax after a Sunday afternoon herding leaves is to have a couple of beers and sit on the couch with your hand under your belt and watch some football and feel good and fine and strong--and downright brawny, damnit, like the guy on the paper towel rolls--for having worked hard and for having cuts on your hands and dirt under your nails and an easy sort of pain in your muscles.

If you ask me questions, I'll give you answers

And God said, "Yea, do not be proud or boastful about your good and plenty space. For verily I say unto thee ...