• Previous posts

  • Aging is for the weak, and everyone else
  • More short cuts
  • Smol Ketchups
  • What’s the opposite of green juice and deep breathing
  • Living through it all online
  • The Change
  • 18
  • Ok but ALSO:
  • Midlife POV
  • Influence and Dooce
  • Horse therapy
  • You can’t go home again
  • Obsolescence
  • Before and after
  • A cringe confession on friendship

Archives from 2002-2006

Meet Callie:

We adopted her today from the Humane Society, and she is as sweet as can be.

I thought it might take her a while to warm up to us, but no. She’s super affectionate and mellow.

She’s pretty curious about exploring her new digs, though, which I suppose is to be expected.

I have been going back and forth to the Humane Society for weeks now, obsessing over various cats. I was worried about finding the right age—the shelters are filled with beautiful older cats, but I was concerned how a senior pet would adjust to a house filled with rambunctious noisy-ass children. Callie is 2, and she seems to be doing just fine so far.

I LIKE HER SO MUCH YOU GUYS.

A while ago my husband heard about this interesting story of how a 80-year-old Santa Fe art dealer/collector named Forrest Fenn has hidden an actual no-shit treasure chest for the public to try and find. Now, in order to understand what happened next, you have to realize that JB is really, REALLY into searching out difficult-to-find objects—for instance, a few years ago it was his obsessive investigation that helped locate a WWII-era war plane that crashed in Lake Washington in 1942.

It’s kind of ironic because this is the same guy who can stare directly at a jar of Jif while simultaneously bellowing, “HONEY DO YOU KNOW WHERE THE PEANUT BUTTER IS,” but JB is a hell of a researcher, and has the confidence to test out his theories first-hand—so really, it wasn’t much of a surprise when he told me he was thinking of traveling to New Mexico.

So that’s where he went last weekend, to a spot he’d been zeroing in on for a couple weeks. After countless evenings of watching him pore over maps and publications, while helping him brainstorm the meaning behind Fenn’s poem (in particular, the reference to “Brown” has become a lively topic of debate in our household), I was thrilled he had the chance to follow this through. I know it all sounds a little mid-life-crisisy, but really, how many shots do we have at an adventure like that? In the midst of our daily grind of work and mortgage payments, well, what the hell—why not take a break to fly across the country on a solo hunt for buried treasure?

I’m sort of sorry to report he didn’t find it, but in a sense I’m also not sorry, because the trip itself sounds like it was amazing. He got to see a beautiful area he’d never been to before, he had the satisfaction of exploring in person the research he’d done from afar, and now he can think about where he might want to look next time.

For as much as he is a dependable, responsible man, JB also has a wildly optimistic streak that I deeply envy. He has an adventurer’s soul, and a balls-out passion for the things he’s interested in. I love that he’s willing to get up and chase after a dream.

← Previous Page — Next Page →

• My product review site:

  [Older recommendations]