“You finally found your coffee cup?”

“Heh. Yeah.”

“Where was it?”

“…”

“Where’d you find it?”

“I don’t remember.”

It was mostly quiet, and I was okay with that. I think we both were.

1. I talked to friends. My friend Travis and his fiance went to Paris for Christmas. My other friend Andrea went to Belgium in January. Both advised to buy tickets in advance (both purchased their plane tickets 6-9 months in advance to get the best deals on airfare). They also advised to fly into Frankfurt. I’d originally wanted to fly directly into Prague, but found that I could save almost $1,000 by flying into Frankfurt and then take a train to Prague.
2. I used a credit card. We have a Citi AAdvantage Platinum MasterCard that earns American Airlines travel points for every dollar we spend.

That’s really it. Now, regarding Step #2 above, I adhered to my own stringent guidelines. Over a decade ago I found myself in a bit of a pickle with a credit card. I wasn’t really financially responsible with the credit card that I had, I got in over my head and was having a hard time paying off the monthly minimum. To spare you the details, I got myself out of debt and swore off credit cards. That was until debit cards became the new means of cash transactions some years ago. I’m of my dad’s teachings and I still write every checking account transaction in our checkbook ledger. This was getting to be a pain in the ass for all of the daily transactions we were making on our bank’s debit card. That’s when I decided to go back to using a credit card. My decision was based on two things:

1. We would never carry a balance on our credit card
2. I would write 1 check (or make 1 online payment from our bank’s website) a month for all of our transactions. This would be 1 payment to the credit card company versus over 50 individual checking account debits
3. We would accrue some kind of “reward” for using a credit card. We decided on a credit card that would earn airline miles.

So we make all of our usual purchases using our MasterCard. These transactions include daily things like groceries, gas, clothes, dining, etc. If I can use the credit card for recurring payments, I’ve set those up as well. For example, our gas, water, cable/internet, website hosting are all paid with the MasterCard. These are all things that I’d ordinarily write a check for, so instead of writing a bunch of checks or making online payments, they’re all taken care of with the credit card and then I make one “big” payment each month to Citi. And I earn travel rewards on top of it all. And the most important part: I pay the balance every month so as to not pay any interest on credit card transactions.

When I was going to buy the plane tickets to Germany, I didn’t think to use my travel rewards miles at first. I was going to purchase them on the credit card and then pay the balance at the end of the month. Then I realized we had 6-figures worth of points that could be used. I called American and had them help me purchase my tickets. All that I had to pay was the $136 in tax.

So if you know that you can pay off the balance every month, use a credit card that offers some sort of rewards program to make purchases you would ordinarily pay cash for.

Here’s my recipe for my first attempt at carne guisada.

4 lb. beef shoulder chuck roast
1 medium yellow onion
4 cloves garlic
1 ancho pepper
1 chipotle pepper
1 tbsp chile powder
1 tbsp cumin
1 bay leave
4 C beef stock
1 can diced tomatoes
2 tbsp olive oil
flour

I stuck the roast in the freezer for a couple hours so it would be easier to trim and slice (trust me on this). While the roast was chilling out, I boiled the beef stock (you can use those bouillon cubes) and steeped the ancho and chipotle for approximately an hour to reconstitute.

I pulled the roast from the freezer and cut it into long (~5-inch) strips and trimmed most of the fat and silverskin. Make sure to leave some fat for flavor. Turn your burner on high and sear all sides of the roast strips (brown the meat so as to seal in flavor and get good coloring. You don’t want that gray, slow seared color) is a pan. Transfer seared beef strips to crockpot.

Dice onions and garlic and sauté until translucent in the pan drippings. Then I literally just dumped everything else (except the flour) into the crockpot, gave it a quick stir, covered and cooked on low overnight (10 p.m. until 8 a.m.).

I tasted it this morning and YUM! Oh yeah, I added the flour this morning – maybe 4 heaping tablespoons and stirred it in really well. In hindsight, I should have used beer and some combination of green peppers as well (poblanos and jalapenos are definitely on the list for next time). Cilantro would also be a welcome addition.

Prep time was maybe 30 minutes, and the taste of a good roast cooked low and slow overnight leaves nothing to be desired!

Yesterday morning Elise got up extra early, but not so she could leave me a note – she had an early morning photo shoot with our friend Marc. This meant that she was extra tired at the end of the day and zonked out early in the evening.

Around midnight, I heard a noise. And then another noise. It was a sound that I’m all too familiar. It sounded like someone was making frozen kiwi margaritas with orange zest in the guest bathroom. I lifted my head from my pillow and listened more. The cabinet door closed. I listened more. More.

“You hear that?” I whispered to Elise.

“PppppppbbbbbbthhhhhnnnnggggpppppPPPPTTTTHHHHBBBBLUUUU SNORRRT.”

I hopped out of bed and headed toward the other side of the house. Maly’s light was on. As I walked closer to her room, I saw her standing before her dresser with no pajamas on her body.

“What’s wrong, Sugar?”

“I pee peed.”

“In your bed?”

“mmhmm.”

“That’s okay. It was an accident. We’ll fix it.”

She’d already gone into the bathroom, disrobed, made herself a kiwi margarita and was trying to fix her accident in a weary stupor herself before I came around. I picked her up and took her to our bedroom where I got her a clean pull-up diaper. I carried her back to her room and put clean pajamas on her. I didn’t want to put her down in order change her bed. Instead, I one-handedly pulled the sheet and mattress cover off of her bed and headed to the laundry room.

“Do you just want to sleep with Mommy and Daddy tonight?”

“mmhmm.”

“Okay.”

So we laid down in our bed. For 30 minutes.

She rolled over. And rolled over. And kicked me in the kidney. And slapped me in the ear. And coughed on my head. And rolled over.

30 minutes later.

“Mommy?!”

“Pppppphhhhggggggggggttthhhh wha?”

“I can’t get compertable.”

“Want Daddy to take you back to your room?”

“mmhmm.”

[sigh]

I got out of bed again.

“Hang on, Sugar. I need to go fix your bed.”

I walked to the laundry room, got a fresh pair of sheets and fixed her bed. I then went back to our room, picked up the child and took her back into her room.

I laid her down in her bed, covered her with her special butterfly blanket and stroked her head for a minute.

“How are the margaritas?”

“Huh?”

“Nevermind. You okay?”

“mmhmm.”

Since I was up, I sat on the floor, rested my back against the side of her bed and stared out into nothing. I caught myself looking up toward the corner of her window, patiently mesmerized by the angled shadow cast from the streetlight passing through the blinds.

I looked over my shoulder at my daughter, who had fast fallen asleep. I looked back up at that window’s corner.

I sat there quietly for ten minutes. And that’s about the time I was reminded of why I’m here right now.

In between my gum-flapping, Maly dispensed recollections of her day at school and the Valentine’s celebration therein. I did the best that I could to acknowledge her and respond to her wholeheartedly, but, as always, I could learn to do better. During one of her Desperate to Get Daddy’s Attention interjections, she told me about a little snack pack of gummy treats that she’d received as a Valentine. Being the gummy enthusiast that I am, I genuinely acknowledged her score, and Elise confirmed that Maly was particularly excited about the gummies and the fact that Maly was going to get to eat them after she ate her dinner. I quickly returned to my one-sided conversation. Elise obliged in listening. Maly, well, I don’t remember. In hindsight, she was probably an afterthought at that moment for me.

I don’t remember the exact details of how the next 60 seconds transpired, but I do recall the cat, Annie, the more feral of our two cats, walking toward the living area from underneath the kitchen table. And then Maly threw her little bag of gummy treats at the cat. Annie barely likes me, so she certainly doesn’t like the 37-inch human who possesses the energy and undying quench for interaction of a Chihuahua with Tourette syndrome that we call our offspring. What possessed Maly to throw the the bag of candy at the cat is nothing more than simple spite, frustration and confusion. She doesn’t understand why the cat won’t pay her any mind like our other cat, Riley does. And she probably doesn’t understand why her dad isn’t giving her his undivided attention at this moment like he normally does.

In my then-current state of emotion, I bolted up, walked straight over to the bag of candy on the living room floor and said, “And you know what? YOU JUST GAVE UP YOUR CANDY!”

I picked up the bag of candy and without pause, I turned around, walked to the pantry and put the bag of gummies in the bag of 947 pounds of Halloween candy that we’re hoarding for the day that we decide to play the age-old family fun game of Who Can Get Periodontal Disease First!

I quickly strutted back to my place at the table, picked up my fork and verbally finished the ten-mile-long thought that I’d started. I was pissed to start off with, and now I was pissed because my child threw a bag of candy at the cat. Having respect for animals is paramount in our house because, as you well know, you can never be overly prepared should you happen upon a Chihuahua with Tourette syndrome, or a feral cat with diabetes.

Out of the corner of my eye, I captured Maly’s face. It was a face that I’ve seen and that has only been stored, up until this point, in the recesses of my brain to hopefully only encounter on rare occasion. It was the face that said, “I’m hurting so badly right now and I don’t understand how to process this emotion. I am completely lost in my own body and mind at this moment and nothing can save or help me.” But this face tonight was slightly different; It was the face that said, in a deafening whisper, “Oh. My. God! My Daddy is VERY ANGRY with me right now. I did something very, very, very bad, and he’s the only person who can help me, but he’s not going to. I am helpless.”

The moment reminded me of the time when, while she was just a helpless infant, I chomped through her skin with the fingernail clippers, and have since forever retired from fingernail clipping duty. I felt that same feeling tonight. It’s an indescribable feeling, a parent-child connection, a simultaneous mutual synapse firing where we’re feeling the same exact pain and helplessness at that moment in time.

I can’t put into words the look on her face that I didn’t even have to see — I could feel it. I guess the closest word would be helpless.

Elise dutifully stood by my decision and action, and explained to Maly why I’d taken the bag of candy away. Maly’s expression didn’t change.

I was done with dinner at that point. So was Maly. Her appetite was gone. So was mine. I told Elise that there was no sense in trying to get Maly to eat her green beans as she’d been emotionally destroyed. I told Maly that if she was done, she needed to take her plate to the sink. She obliged and, with a heavy heart, slowly walked over to and pulled herself up onto the couch and assumed the fetal position in an fleeting attempt to just disappear.

I knew I had to do something, and I didn’t have a lot of time to work with. I had an idea of what I thought was the right thing to do, which was talk to her and explain why I’d taken the actions that I had. Elise confirmed my internal monologue, and reminded me that a punishment is just that, a punishment, and without explanation, the child will only remember the punishment and not the lesson within.

I walked over to my child who was still face down on the couch.

“Come here.”

I held out my hand. She slowly got to her feet and stood at my side. I reached down and softly grabbed her hand and walked her toward Elise’s and my bedroom. She hesitantly but willfully walked with me. I picked her up at the foot of our bed and sat her down. I sat down beside her, both of our feet hanging off the edge of the bed. I put my arm around her, took a deep breath and started talking.

What I told her will be between her and me. I probably said too much because explaining the hows and whys to a 3-year-old is a daunting feat for any parent. But I talked to her, and I think that’s the important part. She knew that this situation and conversation was important to me, and that I wanted her to learn something from this experience.

I’m almost certain that what she heard was, “Blah blah blah blah blablablablabulleee blah blah…” He’s my Daddy and I KNOW he’s going to give me that candy.

But how I ended it was that she and I had to fix it. Plain and simply, we had to fix it. Ever since she could sit herself up, we’ve instilled in her that if something’s not right, it needs to be fixed. I told her that I understood that she was upset because I took the bag of candy away, and in order for her to get that candy back, she was going to have to make things right by the cat.

So I sentenced her to filling the cats’ food and water bowls. She told me that she’d already fed the cats earlier. So we walked to the cats’ bowls where we found an empty water bowl. I told her to fill the water bowl. She took the bowl, crawled up onto the counter next to the sink, filled the bowl and put it back in its place. Then she was charged with cleaning the litter box, something she’s never done in her almost four years of existence. I told her to go into the pantry and get a plastic grocery bag.

We then walked to the laundry room where we store our kitty turds for the Winter. With bag in hand, she stood at the foot of the litter box. The scoop was still outside from a recent visit by our friends’ dog. With short sleeves, jeans and a flashlight, I went out into the backyard in the 40-degree rain and hunted for the scooper.

I presented Maly with the scooper and Elise supervised the scooping of the poop. To me, at that point, Maly had done right by the cat. A punishment that fits the crime. I picked her up, kissed her forehead, told her that I was proud of her and then sat her on the kitchen counter. I got the bag of candy out of the pantry for her and let her eat them on the counter as Elise and I stood at her side with our simultaneous synapses firing, asking, “God, I hope we’re doing this right.”

1: Olive oil poached tuna with baby arugula, olives and lemon aioli
2: Seared dayboat scallops with fingerling potatoes, globe carrots and riesling butter
3: Duck breast with vanilla sweet potato puree, brassicas, roasted apples and honey
4: Wagyu NY strip with yukon potatoes, black trumpets, chicories and balsamic agrodulce
5: Trio of hardened meringue and lemon curd, creme brulee and flourless chocolate cake

The portions were perfectly sized and everything tasted fantastic. Elise’s favorite was the tuna. Mine was the duck.

During dinner I quietly decided that Agrodulce and the Black Trumpets would be a great name for a band.

Our friend Rocio watched Maly for the couple hours while we were out for dinner. Our dinner was nice and quiet, and afforded Elise and I to hang out and just talk about everything and nothing for a while.

We got home and chatted with Rocio and Melissa for a while before they headed home. At 10 o’clock and gave Elise her birthday present:

We’ll be on tour, opening for Agrodulce and the Black Trumpets.

“I love you, too.”

“Call me if you need anything.”

“Okay. Actually… I won’t.”

“…”

“…”

“Well, isn’t it nice to know that you can call out for me if you need anything?”

“Well, I guess.”

“…”

Just as last year, Maly designed a construction paper and yarn tie for me. She chose pink. Pink is the new black in men’s fashion this year. That’s what I’m telling myself. On my tie is Maly’s hand print in a dark pink paint. On the other side of the tie are questions that Maly answered about yours truly:

How tall is Daddy? 1 foot tall
How old is Daddy? 4 yrs. old
What color are Daddy’s eyes? Brown
What is Daddy’s favorite color? Red
What is Daddy’s favorite food? Carrots
What does Daddy do at work? He just does something on his computer
What is Daddy’s favorite thing to do? He just likes to play

My job is to make sure that the answer to the last question never changes.

Puts a new spin on playing with the dollhouse!

“Look at that. I heated it up [ice cream] and it’s frothy.”

“Umm…it’s good.”

“Yeah. I’m quite the barista now.”

“Oh. Is this for me? I didn’t realize you made me a cup too. Thanks!”

“I can’t wait to get old and do nothing but this every day, and take a walk and have a bowel movement.”

“…”

We’ve been dogsitting a 10-year-old Lab/Golden Retriever this weekend named Rafter. From what Elise told me, Maly was sitting at the office window for the better part of Friday afternoon, waiting for Rocio to drop Rafter off. I got home from work around 7 p.m. and was quickly and excitedly greeted by the dog. He’s been nothing short of a good ol’ dog since he’s been with us. He reminds me of the days as a boy growing up with dogs around.

This morning we all took him for a walk to Starbuck’s. Everyone took the trek well, despite the cold weather. There was plenty of sniffing and peeing along the way, and the dog stopped to pee every once in a while, too. I think he takes well to our house as well. I find the humor in him walking through the kitchen and, with his tail wagging, knocking the drawings off of the refrigerator. Maly has come to terms with Rafter’s going home tomorrow. After she went to bed tonight, he followed me around the house — from the kitchen to the living room. Back to the kitchen and then to the office. When I’d park at my desk in the office, Rafter would park at the doorway, quietly waiting to follow me wherever I might go next.

He’s been a good companion to have around the house, even if it’s just for the weekend. I’m thinking come Monday, Maly’s going to ask, “Daddy, when can we have a doggy like Rafter?”

“Whenever you learn to sell live felines on eBay, Sugar.”

Lat night while I was preparing dinner, Maly turned to Josh and said, “Daddy, when we die we go to heaven and we get to be with Mary.”
Then she turned to me and said, “Mommy, do we see in heaven?”
“Yes, Maly. I think we do see in heaven.”
Long pause
“Mommy?”
“Yes?”
“Let’s have a conversation here.”

Umm…I thought that’s what we were doing. Kids say the darndest things.

“Maybe under certain circumstances.”

“Like global warming?”

“Like if you died.”

“…”

So I finally got a rock tumbler. On Saturday evening, Maly and I went for a walk around the block. We “borrowed” a couple rocks from a neighbor’s xeriscaped yard to add to our collection. I told Maly that once this set is polished, we’d have to return the rocks to the owners. I’m hoping they’ll let us keep a couple because we picked out a couple really cool purple rocks.

I’m hoping this will mean a new tradition for Maly and me, where we can go on deliberate or accidental rock hunts and be able to remember where we found our jewels years later.

Last night we took the rocks we’ve collected, plus half the bag of “sample rocks” that came with the tumbler, and started our first batch of rocks to polish. The whole process takes about a month, the current, first round lasting 4 days with coarse grit and water. The tumbler is working loudly in the garage as I type this. This afternoon we (neighbors included) unanimously decided that the tumbler is a little too loud, so I built an insulated box to muffle the racket.

I’m looking forward to the finished product, plus lots of rocks hunts in the future, and hopefully a huge collection of polished jewels and memories.

I told her about Beau and Tinker. When I was a young boy, we had a little beagle named Tinker, and a yellow lab named Beau. Those were my childhood companions – the dogs that every little boy should have growing up. We played all kinds of games together. They were my soldiers in my army. They were the monsters when I needed a foe. They were my travel companions when I needed to explore. They were my guardians when I needed help in the real world.

I don’t remember what all I told Maly about my companions, but I know I told her about how their lives ended. Tinker was shot on the side of the road and we had to have the vet put her down. Beau, who was an old yeller in every since of the word, was attacked by coyotes and his last proverbial leg wasn’t strong enough to hold him up and longer. Beau was the one that caught copperheads and rattlesnakes. He was the one who crushed armadillos in his jaws. He was the one who was always by my side.

Maly knows that her dad had two dogs as a boy. Beau and Tinker.

On another recent nightly bedtime ritual, asked Maly what she wanted to ask Santa to bring her for Christmas. She leaned up in her bed, carefully held up three fingers and said, “three kitten toys! Oh, and a doggy toy. Like Copper from Fox & Hound.” Well, Santa and I had actually been texting each other earlier that evening and he told me that Maly had too many kitten toys already, but the dog toy might not be a bad idea.

I picked up a little stuffed beagle toy from the local toy store a couple evenings later. I thought about getting her a stuffed Copper, but decided against it. I know the Disney empire is hurting and all, but I wanted to give her something that I picked out; something of a reflection of me and my childhood.

Fast forward to Christmas morning. I have learned two things this year: 1) When the child reaches the age of 3.5 years old, she gets the concept of Christmas morning gifts and 2) the child excitedly screaming, “I GOT A PUPPY DOG!!!” from the side of your bed on Christmas morning is one of the sweetest sounds I think I’ve heard since I heard my wife say, “I do.”

Over the past four days, Maly has had that little stuffed beagle closely in-tow. For the first couple days, she called her dog Tinker. Just yesterday, I was informed that the dog’s new name in Beau. Either way, I’m glad she likes it. I’ll be curious as to what the dog’s name is when I get home this evening.

I think I just might put a bug in her ear about getting a real dog. Someday.

Then there was a conversation on Facebook:

And then we went into production, all within the same day:

The weekend started out on somewhat of a low note. I got up extra early on Friday and booked it to work. I was the first person in the office and I was ready to get everything done and get out by noon so I could do some Christmas shopping. Well, that never happened. I’d expected this to be a slow week at the office and it’s been anything but. I got home around 6 p.m. that evening and had to keep working until 11 p.m., after having dinner and casual conversation with the Zombie Eater.

On Saturday I’d planned on getting things done around the house, like finishing the Christmas lights, cleaning the cars, putting stuff on craigslist — just getting things done. Instead I went with the girls to run errands and have lunch. We went to the post office, Home Depot, Bed, Bath, Bird Feeders, Bark Mulch, Tire, Lube & Beyond, the toy store, Lowe’s, and probably a few other places. That pretty much took up the better part of the afternoon and evening. I put Maly to bed and then we watched “Terminator XXIVO5 – Rebuttal of the Automated Teller Machine”, you know, the one where it’s man versus machine, things blow up, Guns ‘n’ Roses playing in the background, grrrrr, motorcycle, “I’ll be back” and the fate of the world is yet to be determined. Awesome movie.

This morning Elise and Maly went to church. I stayed home and worked on Christmas lights. After the girls got home, Elise informed me that she needed to clean the house because the housekeeper is coming tomorrow. To clean the house.

So I talked Maly into going on a walk. We walked our usual walk to the mailbox, which is a few blocks away, but this time, we just kept walking. We went exploring in the woods south of Slaughter. We threw rocks into the “Turkey Bowl” rain reservoir/ad-hoc skate park and we discussed the dangers of snakes that hide under rocks and logs. At one point, Maly said, “Daddy, will you hold my hand?” I obliged and asked why. She told me she was a little scared.

We walked around for 20 minutes more and came across a concrete wall. Maly walked up on the wall and fell a good three feet, flat on her face. She fought back the urge to cry, picked herself up and brushed herself off. After that, I knew she was probably tired, so we started heading back toward the house. We came across a huge branch that had fallen out of a big oak tree. We stopped and had a riveting conversation about ball moss. Then we started our trek back to the house. About half-way there, Maly told me she was tired, so I gave her a piggy back ride all the way back home.

Once we got home, I washed the cars and Elise and Maly went back to church for a story reading. By the time they got back, both cars were cleaned and the Christmas lights on the house were done. Elise went back to cleaning the house, so Maly and I went for a couple rides on the PlasmaCars, and then for another walk, this time just to the mailboxes to get yesterday’s mail.

Whenever Maly and I go on walks, I test her on her house number, street address, city, state and her mom and dad’s names. Tonight we talked about how stranger equals danger. She even asked, “So Daddy, are strangerous dangerous?”

Tonight before bed I told Maly that I was only going to go into the office a few days this week. I then went on to tell her that Daddy was going to the movies with friends tomorrow night. She excitedly asked if she could go with us. I told her that this movie was about aliens. I had to tiptoe around explaining what aliens were just before putting my baby to bed.

I couldn’t have asked for a better day today, even if I had the all the power in the world to plan it myself.

Elise and mom came home a few hours later and we had a great roast that Elise had been slow-cookin’ in the crock pot all day. Then mom and I made desserts for the Thanksgiving dinner the next day. Mom made a custard pie, I made a pumpkin cheesecake.

On Turkey day we had a great meal over at the Heisterman’s with all the fixins. It was great to spend time over a meal with neighbors we like to consider family.

7 p.m. came quick and mom, Elise, Maly and I darted across the street so we (me) could watch the UT vs. A&M game. What a game that was. The Aggie’s put up a good fight and made for one of the most exciting games that I’ve watched this season.

Friday morning Elise, Maly and I loaded up and headed out for our annual trip to Okeene, Oklahoma for the Boeckman family Thanksgiving. Maly did fantastic in the car. It wasn’t until it started getting dark when she started getting antsy and wanted to know, “are we there yet are we there yet are we there yet?!?!”

We pulled up to the farmhouse right at 6 p.m., just in time for fried catfish. We visited with family for a few hours before Elise and I headed back to the swanky Okeene Motel while Maly stayed back and had a sleepover with Boppa and Gran.

Elise and I got up on Saturday morning and headed back to the farmhouse. We snacked (dumb idea before a Boeckman Thanksgiving feast), Maly played on the swing and I took some shots of the Boeckman farm. Then it was time to EAT! Turkey, ham, stuffing, mashed taters, green bean casserole… you know, the whole nine. Then we watched a pretty uneventful OU vs. OSU game, and a similarly uneventful Florida vs. FSU game, and then a nail biter of a Mizzou vs. Kansas game. Then some sort of tile game with numbers, I don’t remember the name of said game, but I pretty much sucked at it, so after I won a game, I declared my self Grand Champion of Awesome Tile Game and quickly retired.

On Sunday morning, we headed back to the farmhouse (Maly in-tow this time, she wanted to stay with us at the hotel on Saturday night) for breakfast, and then we hit the road back to Texas. The leg back to Texas is always the long one – everyone’s heading home on Sunday and the traffic in the Ft. Worth area is always congested. We made our way west of I-35, through the towns of Burleson, Joshua (yes!), Cleburne and Hico until we finally got into familiar territory, and then finally home!

Alas, another long, roady Thanksgiving weekend. Always good to spend time with family!

I couldn’t tell you the last time I sold something on eBay. I don’t think I’ll ever sell anything on eBay again. eBay’s a pain in the ass. Listing a single item takes too long in that you have to fill out so many forms, then you have to pay a listing fee, final value fee (at least I did the last time I sold something) and then you have to deal with potential buyer questions and, worst of all, shipping. When you factor in all of the above, it’s not worth the time to sell a single item every once in a while on eBay.

If I have something that I need to sell these days, I’ll approach my immediate personal network first (friends, neighbors, etc.) If I don’t get a quick response, I’ll take 5 minutes and snap a few good photos and write a good, honest description of the item I’m selling and post it on craigslist. Austin has a fantastic craiglist community and I’ve had a great overall experience both buying and selling there.

When we were cleaning out the office, I found a couple old hard drives and a wireless router that I’d been hoarding for years. I decided to take photos of them with my phone and sell them. Here are the items I listed:

$15 Seagate 120GB ATA hard drive
$15 Maxtor 160GB SATA hard drive
$10 Netgear 802.11g wireless router

And then the craigslist community turned into one that nearly rivals eBay’s. I’ve had people email me who want me to take detailed photos of one of the hard drives. One gentleman emailed me and asked for my home phone number so we could run a series of tests on the wireless router. I had to bite my lip and not respond immediately. I took Elise’s advice and politely wrote the gentleman back and stated: “you have my money back guarantee that the router works.

The moral of the story: spend your spare time reading the “Best of craigslist” and just horde your junk. You’ll be happier that way.

Writing has always been very therapeutic for me, and it’s a way for me maintain my sense of wit and humor in a world that’s otherwise told me that my abs are flabby and and I need to refinance the house. I’m not one for New Years resolutions, or any form or resolution, but my thoughts are to just start writing again. Life happens and, before you know it, it starts slipping away from us all, undocumented. I have a terrible memory, so I used to write about our lives’ happenings here. It’s always fun to browse the Janicek.com archives to see what we were doing on this date 5 (or however many) years ago. In fact, this time 6 years ago, we were shopping for the house that we still live in. And 7 years ago, we bought Elise’s Jeep (that is now my daily commuter). And 8 years ago around this time I lost my first job out of college at the tail-end of the dot-com fallout.

I updated Janicek.com’s theme this evening. For a few years I tried to make money by serving ads here on the site. You’ll be impressed with the fact that over those years, I amassed enough advertising revenue to buy a starter pack of ab-intensifying topical cream from a late night infomercial. I think it looks so much better without all of the ads (I’m still talking about my stomach muscles here). I can’t seem to figure out how to get the monthly archives to properly display over there to the right of your screen, but I’m sure I’ll be able to figure that out soon enough. In the meantime, you can always watch my 2002 episode of “Cribs”, which was shot when we were recently married and still poor from our days as a dot-com ex-employee and a beer cart girl.

So lots of cool things have happened in years past, none of which are referenced above. My hopes and aspirations are to focus more on important topics, like raising an almost-four-year-old daughter, duck herding, and the other truly important things in life.

“No.” I gave no explanation, just a “no”.

I got out of the shower, dried off and walked into the living room to find Maly playing with “her” iPod Touch. “Her” iPod is usually not charged. She’d gone into Elise’s purse, retrieved the iPod, walked over to my computer, unhooked my phone and plugged in “her” iPod to charge while she played her little Disney princess game on it. I knew this was going to be a fun and interesting conversation.

“Hey! I thought I said you couldn’t play with my phone.”

“It’s not your phone, Daddy. It’s MY iPod.”

And she was absolutely right. I should have done a better job as a parent and explained why I’d said no earlier.

They say 3- and 4-year-olds are “liars and lawyers”. This ride gets more exciting every day!