Teary Trails

“Why do you think they’d name this the La Llorona Trail?” my wife Lala asked me as we stepped out of the minivan. The moniker did seem an odd choice given that we were about to walk along the Rio Grande with our two children in tow—two children who had...

Gymy Rigged

It would be hard to believe if you saw me, but I’ve been hitting the gym. The reason I started this relationship has more to do with my back than my gut (though I’m told those two areas are connected) so, while I was travelling recently, I wanted to stay committed to...

Make It A Double

Maybe it was the unseasonably warm Manhattan weather and I felt unencumbered in just a sweater and jeans. Perhaps it was the joy I experienced riding the cross-town bus, iPod pumping Ryan Adams (Hell, I still love you, New York) while I watched the different flavors...

Going The Distance

“No you don’t!” I had spotted my daughter Poppy mixing a glass of Ovaltine on the kitchen counter. “You’ll spoil this restaurant-quality meal. How many dads make a grilled undercut of pork with a fresh fruit salsa on a school night?” I admit I...

Name Dropping

The good thing about being a minivan gangsta is that when a few friends or relatives drop by, you can jam them into your clan van and all drive together like a happy bunch of missionaries. Being stuffed into such close and mobile quarters may cause some minor...

The Giving Tree

I’ve never been much of a tree hugger, but lately I’m starting to understand the need to weave myself some hemp sandals, let my nails grow long and pretend. You see, last spring my wife Lala somehow fancied herself a gardener and started planting like Johnny...