Ch. 75 Farts are Funny

10/2/26

There are so many things you get to see your child experience for the first time. First ice cream, movie in a theater, experiencing the ocean. These are seminal and grand, but really, when it comes down to it, my favorite thus far has been the first time Reese realized farts are funny.

She’s almost three and recently found humor in this flatulent human condition. Luckily, she’s been farting since she entered the world, so Lauren and I have been able to share moments when she did it unknowingly, then moments when she learned to say “excuse me, I farted” in her adorable toddler voice. Those were fun, but opening someone into one of life’s best inside jokes is pure joy.

There are a few ways to approach this milestone. We could go conservative and try to guide her toward some social grace so she learns to navigate where and when farts are appropriate. We could, but I don’t think we should.

I’d rather relish in the innocence of youth and encourage her to be loud, proud, and funny about it. Timing is everything and breaking wind can break the ice in magical ways. She’s going to get carte blanche for this for the next few years of her life and she’s insanely cute, so odds are she could really run with it till…high school?

Now that I think about it, this is a tool that could serve her at least until she gets into the work force.

Hear me out: we all fart and we always will. Control of this function is variable, and circumstantial control is even more variable. However, being able to leverage it rather than let it leverage you will serve her well.

Example: my first day at sleepaway camp I found myself sitting crisscross applesauce on a thinly rugged floor surrounded by 100 fellow campers. I had to fart, but the intro to camp talk was so long that it slipped, and a silent bomb was let off. Murmurs of “I think that skinny kid farted” and “oh god that’s bad” proliferated until eventually I’d become Pumba at the watering hole. There was a forcefield of vacant floor around me as these strangers edged away from my embarrassment. Fast forward one short week at camp and we’re ripping farts and comparing smells (gender agnostic mind you) because we’d accepted the humor in it.

So why not teach Reese about the common denominator and get a head start on the judo move: make your farts work for you, not against you. It’s a great way to make friends and filter for people who aren’t comfortable enough to admit humor and laugh at themselves.

Glad we had this chat. I’m going to talk to Lauren about it tonight.

Ch. 74 The World in Our Hands

6/12/26

I ran into another Dad at the grocery store the other day. He commented on how cute Frankie, our 4 month old, was. This is standard Victory Lap (see Chapter 72) stuff, but then he got emotional.

This man’s son is 18 and just graduated, he’s going to college on the East Coast at the end of summer. He was devastated and could barely talk about it with an even voice.

“You have the whole world in your hands right now” he said, heavy with a tragic jealousy.

An empty nest is easily my biggest fear already, which is crazy because I value travel as personal trait…but already not when it comes to my daughters?

To be clear, we’re not gearing up for an empty nest now.

Life is filled with more nesting if anything and we don’t have a moment to ourselves. Daytime or nighttime, one of our girls needs us.

We have the whole world in our hands now.

That man’s remark couldn’t have come at a better time. Recently I’ve felt that the world is spinning without us. We’re in a new place and have yet to cut out a social community like we had in Denver. Frankie still hates car rides, so we find ourselves stuck revolving around a nap schedule and feedings. This doesn’t really open a whole lot of opportunities to meet new people, and really, that’s ok.

It’s ok because we have the whole world in our hands.

The friends we do have understand this as well, while we spin on our our little axis and they spin on theirs, we can appreciate that our worlds look very different for a little while. When we land back in the same dimension, when the world we’re holding isn’t quite so demanding—let’s say in one or two more short years—we’ll reconnect and be more available.

Right now I can enjoy the moments for what they are: exhausting, adorable, and fleeting.

As a small update since I originally wrote this, Reese suprised me this morning. I was muttering to myself while responding to a Slack message at work and she asked what was wrong. “Work is stressing me out” I told her. Reese put down her yogurt and walked around to me with arms open “It’s going to be ok, have a hug”. I done gone melted. two and half year old wisdom and comfort is like none other I’ve ever experienced.

Ch. 73 Nobody is Stoked

7/11/25

“Nobody is stoked that you just moved here”

This bumper sticker in town made me slow my roll a bit. I’m stoked, I’m like really, really, stoked that we just moved here. The trails are nearly empty, the “traffic” is laughable, and the temperatures have been pleasant while everyone else has been sweltering.

My sister has lived here for about the last decade and not long after my Mom followed suit. I’d stayed true to brand and resisted my sister’s advice for too long (sources: camps, college, various music from our youth).

It won’t be the last time I write this phrase: she was right.

Given I have a lot of faith in bumper stickers, I can’t tell you where we are, but it’s great. It kind of feels like what Garrison Keillor said about Lake Wobegon. “All the women are fit and the men are good looking, the children are above average and they all ride e-bikes with reckless abandon.”

To be fair, the recycling access is abysmal but hey, there’s always something to fix.

I’m stoked we just moved here. Come visit if you know where to go but avoid January through March because we’re due to have another baby then (!).

Trails are empty which suits the pace that Reese sets.

Like Reese, we miss our friends in Denver but are looking forward to visiting.

Did I mention we have family here? Cousins are stoked.

This new pace of life suits us.

Ch. 72 Victory Laps

3/6/25

So much of parenthood is hiding in plain sight to those who are not parents. Before having Reese, the thought of grocery shopping with a child conjured nightmare images mid-aisle meltdowns and endless negotiations. It turns out, when the kid can’t walk or talk, it’s the opposite.

 Reese is objectively the cutest baby to bless this planet and I know this because she makes grocery shopping into an endless victory lap. Grocery shopping used to be an activity in which I would wall off the world with a podcast and efficiently cruise a counter-clockwise lap of the store. Now it’s a place for endless compliments from strangers and sporadic squeals of delight from Reese when she encounters…really anything.

 After Reese was born we got praise, presents, handshakes, back pats – you name it – and we deserved it for enduring pregnancy and childbirth. External motivation and congratulation are nice, but it wasn’t why we did it (I use “we” here, Lauren carried the team quite literally). After a few months I figured that would be it, people would just see us, or ignore us, as the parents we became while we trudged up the Sisyphean hill of parenthood. No more marathon crowd cheers from the onlookers.

 I love being wrong. Grocery shopping with Reese is like going to the SNL wrap party with that week’s host in your cart. Everybody – I mean everybody – at least smiles at you. Then there’s the in-passing interactions between just Reese and the stranger. You can tell the residual joy from the interaction just raised the overall happiness in the store.

 By far my favorite is someone who’s in for a stop’n’gush. Demographics tend to be the older population out for a shop and skew female 90% of the time but hearing that you have “just the cutest little thing I’ve ever seen” never loses its charm. I thought I’d get tired of it, but it still hits.

 When the public gush over Reese, I drink it in, accept the random praise and try to compliment back or deflect to Lauren as the originator of Reese’s genetic lottery.

 One caveat is when they decide they’re armchair geneticists. The question “who gave her the red hair?” is fundamentally wrong, did these people not pay attention during the Punnett square section in Biology? We both had the recessive gene, Reese got it, her hair will stay red.

 After the charm tour of the store we end up at the checkout which I always opt for in person because the checkout clerk is always charmed by Reese. Even the most business-like of the bunch end up vying for her affection with smiles, waves, and baby-talk. Reese loves it, they love it, the shopper behind us loves it.

 If there’s a purpose in life, one could argue it’s to spread joy and connect with others. As we stroll to the car Reese and I know that despite any sleep regression, we’ve just spread a little joy for a few people at the store. Another victory lap for my daughter and me.

Ch. 71 The Hair and Now

8/23/24 

Reese (Daughter), Human, Female, 8 months old:

• A ginger, very little hair to speak of at the moment, but it’s orange sherbert hue is unique and dazzling.

• Reese is coming to the realization that the color of her hair is a favorite subject of many, much like someone’s height for those taller or shorter than the norm.

• Reese feels she is a multi-faceted young woman and has more to offer than a rare hair color, she is not amused when people theorize whether her hair will stay that color, but hey, that’s showbiz as a baby.

• A niece, granddaughter, and great granddaughter to three fully grown gingers, Reese is excited to learn the tricks of the trade of being a redhead, because her parents just don’t understand.

• Reese often finds hair on the floor, a locale she frequents often. She samples the tastes and smells of these hairs but is an equal opportunity sampler. She enjoys hair fresh from the source or discarded and forgotten.

• Reese has yet to produce a hairball despite her unquantified intake of anonymous hair. 

Moses, Feline, Female, 15 years old:

• Grey tabby, historically known for overgrooming due to stress resulting in bald spots.

• Currently living a stress-free lifestyle moving indoors and outdoors seemingly at her own whims without reason.

• Navigating a new floormate in Reese who is fascinated with Moses but lacks the motor control to perform a soft petting.

• Reese’s attention has resulted in unwanted removal of tufts of hair, Moses is careful to remain calm but move out of reach after any unwanted contact. It’s cool if Reese pulls Mo’s tail though, because Moses is a little freak.

• Hairballs happen, sometimes accompanied with undigested, whole kibbles. Kibbles are whole because Moses is toothless, she endures and enjoys the dry food nonetheless. 

Eileen (Mom), Human, Female, Age unknown

• Being a ginger has shaped her life to revolve around the next application of sunscreen, an act at which she is a professional.

• Typically kept short since the 90s. Hairstyles have changed over the years in relative length, coloring, and shape but always fit the current trends while exhibiting an effortless glamour that surrounds my Mother.

• Eileen was given a breast cancer diagnosis earlier in 2024 that resulted in eight sessions of chemotherapy and a first-time buzz cut.

• She looks amazing, she is resilient both mentally and physically, and she is currently recharging before radiation sessions begin in September, results pending.

• Eileen’s hair resembles Reese’s hair in length, which is both ironic and adorable, both are pleased by this.

• Eileen is well cared for and welcomes any form of encouragement as she navigates this hair stage and the underlying cause, she is not a stranger to cancer having beat it a decade prior. 

Mac (self), Human, Male, 35 years old:

• I have brown hair that seems to want to leave.

• In a vain attempt to reverse this I take a pill once a day and apply some foam twice a day to the epicenter of my baldness on the crown of my head. Tbh, it’s working.

• Reese loves examining this spot when on my shoulders and insists on accelerating my hair loss journey, similar to what she does to Moses.

• My mustache remains intact though at times of high stress it has a mangier, uneven quality than in times of tranquility. This is self inflicted from chewing and tugging on it, it’s a bad habit.

• Recent times of stress include the first few weeks of parenthood and learning of my Mom’s breast cancer.

• Spending more time with family and some therapy has brought the mustache back to a state of fullness.

• General light beard scruff surrounds the stache because without it, I look like a pedophile. Unfortunately I was recently informed by Lauren (wife) that my face is less itchy to smooch without the scruff so, a new hair dilemma looms.

Lauren (wife), Human, Female, 33 years old:

• “Old Money Blonde” and beautiful. Lauren’s hairdresser is named Lea and is a subject of fascination as she not only does a good job but loves gossip (shocker).

• Afflicted by the attention of Reese’s grasp while breastfeeding, Lauren’s hair is often tied back.

• In the immediate months post-partum Lauren’s hair was found everywhere because there is a natural shedding period that neither of us knew about…ok maybe it was just me who didn’t know.

• Lauren now dispels rumors around her workplace that instead of shedding, eight months post-partum her hair is amassing more volume than ever before.

• Despite years of having the same hair, Lauren will still find time to obsess and churn over what style is appropriate for an event until the 11th hour. She is, as described, human after all.

Ch. 70 Let's Address the Furry Baby in the Room

If one is interested or curious at all to find out what first time parenthood is like, just go to the r/NewParents subreddit. There you will find the details that most people either are too embarrassed to share, or that you really can’t gracefully process in a face-to-face scenario.  

How should you react if someone confides in you that maybe they feel parenthood was a mistake for them? Or that they haven’t slept for more than 2 hours at a time for the past month? Some things are better left online because all you can really do in person is go “Oh dang, wow, that sounds rough.” 

While that’s the wise way to react and hopefully end this type of conversation, if you were like me you’d try to further the it with the limited experiences you had to draw from: having a cat. “Yeah, tell me about it, last night at 3am my cat Moses wouldn’t shut up and it totally woke us up. Took me almost an hour to get back to sleep, so I get it.” 

I can tell you’re feeling secondhand cringe for me, but as it turns out, new parents love this! Finally, they can commiserate with their friends about what they’re going through because lo and behold, the friend that didn’t go through pregnancy or childbirth actually have the same challenges they do – just with cats. 

That’s a fur baby in a crib right there.

Cats and babies are so similar that this is a very tidy, surprisingly nimble little leap to make. 

Napping: both babies and cats nap throughout the day, the lucky devils. You’re trying to do laundry and perhaps clock in some work hours but they insist on racking out in your lap so you’re stuck watching Southern Charm with your significant other. They both nap trap their caretakers with reckless abandon.  

Feeding schedules: cats love to cluster feed! It's like hello just stick to a schedule I don’t want to hear you eating at random times of the day from your dry food bowl, jeez. Same for babies but like, easier because you don’t have to pay for breastmilk at the grocery store am I right fellas? 

Managing poopies: there’s nothing more akin to servitude than cleaning up the excrement of your little one. The only difference (and I mean the ONLY difference) is that cats lick their butts to clean up afterward and babies require wipes. I guess in this category, you could chalk cats up as the easier of the two...I guess. 

This is an often-overlooked Venn diagram that new parents really ought to enjoy more. All you crave in the first six weeks of parenthood is someone else going through it too. You want to bounce ideas, experiences and shames with someone who gets it. Well look no further than your friend with a cat, because trust me, they’ve had the cat a lot longer than you’ve been a parent and they really get it. 

As a new parent to a FuR BAbY and a Junior in college, I was really quite a responsible parent to Moses. So were my seven roommates. So I really know parenthood.

It’s only fair to address dogs. Dogs are not actually a good fit for this crossover because their love is cheap and unconditional, not to mention you don’t have to deal with their poop, if you did there’d be a lot less around Denver’s high-rise apartments. 

PS We’re six weeks in and couldn’t be happier. Reese is objectively the best baby in the universe and has us madly in love. Especially the poops, she makes her Dad proud filling them diapers! 

PPS This isn’t anti-dog, we’ll get a dog when we get a dog but for now, I have to pull from experience.

SSSPSPSSPSSS...that was for your cat, from me. 

Another nap trap. Note the general look of bright eyes and bushy tail from yours truly. Four weeks in and sleep was a slippery thing to catch.

Ch. 69 Pre-Dad

Written 12/6/23

I love being a pre-Dad. Nobody told me about the insane excess social currency that came with expecting. 

It’s like the get-out-of-jail free card I never knew existed. I can use this upcoming life event in almost any scenario and instantly garner sympathy and joy from strangers to close loved ones. If a client call isn’t going in the right direction, I can drop in that they may not see me for a few weeks because we’re having our first baby soon, watching a tough customer melt into a genuine ally instantaneously is dangerously thrilling. 

Is this why people have so many kids? You can get away with just about anything if you disclose that yep, we’ve got a baby on the way! Did I just park in the wrong spot? Oh sorry, my wife’s super pregnant and my mind was elsewhere. You don’t have any more of that type of bread? Dang, my super-duper pregnant wife was really depending on this. Oh, you have just one more behind the counter suddenly? Fantastic. 

Social currency aside, I prefer the anticipation of this life event to that of our wedding celebration. This one we have all the work on the back end rather than up front. Weddings are all stress and spending until one very full, very quick event. Yes, there’s plenty to be stressed about when you’re growing a baby, but if you’re lucky enough to avoid major complications, I’m in the camp that this will pale in comparison to actual parenthood problems. 

Mind you, this is coming from a human male, not a seahorse male, so I can’t be credited for doing any of the heavy lifting here. Day after day Lauren’s gate becomes more humpty dumpty while I find all the extra food and errands are making me somehow...stronger? So really this “free” social currency comes at a cost that Lauren must pay. A word of advice to any pre-Dads to be, in the 9 months it takes to get to term, remember: be more agreeable than usual, in fact, actively avoid disagreements because 99% of the time you are wrong, and all this social goodwill is being paid for on the back, hips, and swollen feet of your lovely wife. So pay it forward and put her socks on with a smile. 

Baby brain…ya I went overboard with the Mardi Gras babies at work.

In a lot of ways I need to write this as a telegram for my future self. 

Hey, you with the bags under your eyes and oddly shaped dad bod: thanks for the good times, your past self really did enjoy this feeling. 

In conclusion, I genuinely can’t wait to meet our daughter. It’s brought us to tears so many times at how curious, how excited and how over the moon we are to discover what life we’re going to bring into this world.  

If you found this piece too rambling or self indulgent – my bad, I’m about to have my first kid and my pregnant wife totally made me write this. 

Lauren, 2.5 weeks from giving birth crushed a 5k turkey trot. GOAT

People prepare in different ways when expecting. We built the bassinets and then had to cat-proof them so Moses wouldn’t get fur everywhere. And there was some left over for entertainment, Harlow approved.

Ch. 68 Recycool

In 2021 I changed industries from big tech, to recycling. That shouldn’t surprise you because it matches my passion for sustainability. In my time at this job, I’ve been able to peak behind the curtain of the recycling industry and have made three key insights for you to use: Compost, Avoid Small Plastics, and Keep It Loose.

This is written to help you gain confidence as a consumer who recycles. Articles tend to surface from time to time referencing recycling as a “myth” and they paint a picture of a completely useless system. I work in such a system every day and while it isn’t perfect*, it’s far from useless. I’d like to share what I’ve learned for your benefit. The point of this is not to look down on anyone for their buying habits because the truth is, buying some things will just make your life easier and occasionally that means single use items. What this post will do is hopefully guide your buying and recycling decisions going forward.

Rule #1: Compost 

It’s really easy, just do it

If you don’t already employ a green bin or have some smelly hot pile in the backyard, yesterday is the time to start. Even if you’re in an apartment there are plenty of small local outfits that will collect weekly for you. In Denver it’s becoming a standard service but before that, I paid an extra $8 per month for a giant green compost bin that gets emptied weekly.

A relative recently asked me, “Mac, your’e so smart and handsome, tell me, what’s the point of throwing food waste in the compost? If I throw it in the trash, it won’t make a difference, will it?” I don’t know what the first line had to do with this but it’s a fair question. The point is anything you throw in the trash will increase its carbon footprint because it’s headed to the hot stinky landfill that’s a literal hotbed for greenhouse gas production. Food waste thrown in the compost will be broken down (sure it’s hot) but in a way that regenerates our food supply by creating fresh soil for farmers and modest gardeners like yourself. It’s so useful that many cities and states are moving toward food scrap mandates.

One little known fact is that most compost collectors accept fiber, AKA paper products. If your fiber product is clean (not soiled, oily, etc) then it should be recycled, but things like used pizza boxes, paper napkins, coffee filters etc. can be composted. It’s amazing how little trash we make since adding composting to our lives.

A whole wide world opens up once you add composting to your life, feels like this.

Rule #2: Avoid small plastics 

It’ll fall through the cracks

The entire waste industry speaks in terms of mass. Bales of material are weighed and sold by the pound or ton. This incentivizes those who are sorting your recycling to grab the big fish before the small. The sorting of recycling is the entire issue with the industry, we combine all types into one big bin and it’s difficult to sort it while maintaining the proper throughput – therefore it pains me to say: not everything you recycle is actually recycled.

Standard reactions to hearing that not everything you put in the bin will get recycled. Acceptable reaction.

It's easy to feel hopeless or shocked when faced with that reality, but aside from producers needing to do better, we can too. Just avoid single use plastic wherever you can, and in those totally reasonable scenarios when you need to purchase something in plastic (which literally happens every day, don’t beat yourself up), just avoid the small stuff because odds are, that won’t get sorted like the big stuff.

And duh, wash it off if there’s food residue on it, if you care a little for the poor sorter down the line who gets your recyclables, you’ll clean it off a bit. It can be up to a week before they get their hands on it and by then, the BBQ sauce or ranch has really had time to fester, and it stinks and is gross. Don’t be gross. If people only recycled clean materials, these recovery facilities wouldn’t stink but let me tell you firsthand, they do. Aside from the stench argument, soiled (or food ridden) materials are deprioritized and considered lower grade, so the economic incentive gets lowered with soiled recyclables.

Rule #3: Keep it loose 

Plastic Bags are the devil

Keep your recyclables loose, but your playing cards well-contained.

This may not be news to you, but some folks put their recycling in plastic garbage bags and then take the bag to the bin once it’s full. That defeats the purpose and is likely to cause damage to the facility attempting to sort it. A lot of the machinery used in these facilities are very supsceptible to failing when plastic bags get into the system. Think of gum in a grandfather clock, it wraps around stuff and eventually they stop turning.

So keep it loose, I like to just fill a paper bag and empty the contents into my bin or fill a reusable grocery bag. A hard plastic bin works too, if you’re rinsing your recyclables then it shouldn’t get too mucky in there.

If you haven’t realized already, plastic bags are NOT recyclable. Rule of thumb: if it’s flimsy, put it in the trash, if it retains shape then it can be recycled. So avoid those bags at all costs. Sometimes we end up with them in our house, they get the job they deserve, cat poop collection.

That’s it. I hope you learned something and if not, gold star, the recyclers in your area love you and are making a profit from your great work!

If you want to learn more about what you can do, hit me up or check out your local recycling website. Also, if you’re curious, the new gig I have is at AMP Robotics, it’s by far the most fulfilling job I’ve ever had.

*In my work at AMP, our mission is to create a world without waste by introducing new technology that helps the sortation process. It’s cool!

Ch. 67 The One Where Mac Gets Covid

12/13/21

The post below was written a while back, I didn’t want to post it until I had truly shaken my COVID-19 symptoms which is why it’s taken this long. All in all, it reads pretty dramatic but truth be told, that’s exactly how it felt so I’m not going to sugar coat or use a jovial tone to make it fun to read.

The purpose of this is to encourage any who have yet to 1) get vaccinated and 2) get boosted.

4/27/21

I woke up freezing in my own bed. This was the first shift of three that ultimately sent me in a pretty dismal spiral to the lowest low I’ve ever experienced. My bed has always represented sacred space. Under the covers is the safest you can be, shielded from the outside world, and suddenly that wasn’t true anymore.

I ended up losing consciousness while still laying down and took a 3:30am drive, on Wednesday March 31st, to the ER, I would lose consciousness two more times before reaching the ER bed.

There I soaked up fluids like a sponge while they ran tests showing my vitals were good pending COVID-19 results. After being discharged and napping a bit they called and informed us I was COVID-19 positive. That was the second shift: it was no longer a random head cold I had been fighting, it was the internationally feared virus where anything could happen.

I had initially felt achy on the previous Saturday, thinking I was just sore from exercising, but I got a rapid test just in case. March Madness was in full swing and I didn’t want my sickness to get in the way of my wife and roommate seeing the games with friends. The test came back negative so I felt relieved and decided to stay home until I felt better, after all, I had just scheduled my first shot as vaccinations for those 16 and older would become available the following Friday.

So this is how I fumbled at the one yard line. With the end goal in sight, scheduled on the calendar, I got unlucky. Based on my experience, I consider myself fairly lucky in the grand scheme, I’m alive after all, but here’s a breakdown of the symptoms and what if felt like to experience the big bad wolf:

• Day 1 & 2 - achy body, headache

• Day 3 - sore throat, still achy, still headache

• Day 4 - Inability to focus, general fatigue, severe head congestion

• Day 5 - Extreme Chills, intensification of all symptoms, no temperature but all fever feelings on high (trip to ER #1), night sweats, in bed all day, no appetite, difficulty with screens

• Day 6 - reversal of Day 5’s intensity, thought I’d been through the worst of it, even played an April Fool’s prank. That evening brought constant diarrhea. Complete loss of smell (no complaints there)

• Day 7 - Inability to eat without bowel movements, inability to hold liquids, trip to ER #2 to get fluids and Imodium. Return of day 5’s effects to a slightly lesser degree.

• Day 8 thru 11 - Symptoms continue with modest improvements, slowly worked my way out of bed a few times per day to walk slowly around the backyard with a mask on - felt like I lived at an old folks home, drinking Ensures to keep my calories up as appetite was still nonexistent. Gatorade was a constant, screens were not an option, I survived on Podcasts, Audiobooks, Tylenol, and DoorDash.

• Days 12 thru 14 - Appetite slowly returned, headaches persisted especially in the evening to cap the day. Smell almost completely returned, though not for my own bodily functions.

• Day 15 - Complete return of achy body, severe headache, spent the day in bed wondering what life is.

• Days 16 to 24 (when I originally wrote this post) - Slow rebuild from Day 15s backslide of symptoms, walking twice daily in varying amounts. Smell 100% back. Wearing blue light glasses religiously. On days where I put in more effort, the following day pays the price. Still feel achy from time to time and headache is subtle but present, more so in the evening.

• Months 2 thru 7 - An anxiety-filled tightrope of returning to normalcy while trying not to trigger a resurgence of symptoms. This was later diagnosed as my variety of long covid, in which you are subject to the good day/bad day rhythm: if you feel like today is a good day, you push, enjoy, act carefree falsely thinking the worst is behind you. The next day you’re on your ass with fatigue, headache, mental fog, and occasionally achy.

• Month 8 onward - Finally close to normal, after seeing a few specialists including a nutritionist and balancing out my food variety to a religious degree, I feel I can do what I used to do before coming down with COVID-19.

This was the majority of April, however at first I couldn’t even handle a small cat touching me, body aches suck.

Throughout the entire journey Lauren was an absolute saint, bringing nourishment and care at all times, even delicately suggesting when I should take a shower (when my sense of smell had failed me). Given I am (or was) a healthy 31 year old when this happened, I shudder to think about the effects this virus has on those with preexisting conditions or old age. Though I’m told stories of geezers who get no more than a sore throat and go about their lives. My limited knowledge tells my the reaction is completely random, so ask yourself: do ya feel lucky?

The final shift I felt from this was the abject helplessness our doctors have in treating this. All they can really do is check to see if your major functions are failing and tell you to rest and hydrate. Hospitals are filling ups again, and it’s with unvaccinated patients. So get your booster, I just did.

My aforementioned roommate ended up getting COVID-19 as well, but Lauren never got it because she works in healthcare and was…wait for it…VACCINATED.

PS - Shoutout to my friends and neighbors in Denver who were insanely generous with their time, support, and Gatorade in the very intense moments of this, you know who you are!

Ch. 66 Harlito Bandito as told by Uncle Doodoo

Nieces are the best couch dwellers

The only picture with Harlow in focus, you’ll see.

We recently had the pleasure of hosting my sister, bother-in-law and their nearly two-year-old daughter at our house. The weather shifted from comfortable to frigid and the result was some unexpected hunkering down in the living room with blankets and a solid stream of cartoons.

Initially, Moses (our cat) was the best thing that could fall into your lap on a couch session. Boy was I wrong. My Niece, Harlow bandito burrito, is far superior and warms not only the lap, but the soul. When in my lap, I am paralyzed by the sheer concept of a miniature version of my sister so young in her life, so small but with a future that’s going to amaze us all. All that potential entranced by a cartoon. It’s a beautiful thing.

Her nickname stems from a family vacation to Mexico in which her name paired nicely with other Spanish words that don’t make grammatical sense with her gender. To be fair a Harlito burrito is a cozy concept, and she’s a complete and total bandit now that she’s learned to run full speed from room to room. Also, I heard bandits love to throw almost everything you hand them, just to watch them fall.

She’s so fast I can never quite get a shot of her in focus. Certified bandit.

Nieces don’t just make great couch buddies, they also serve as the best alarm clocks. I didn’t tap snooze once during their trip, the simple sound of her voice travelling through the house at 7am: “I see Mac and Lauren?!” pasted an instant smile on my face. It’s something I didn’t want to miss, so I hopped out of bed and began each day with whispery hide and seek followed by daring hunts for the cat.

One last chance to brag, Harlow is simply the best because she’s bulletproof. She trundles through the house at full speed and naturally, she falls from time to time. Mostly flat on her face, the type of fall that ceases all momentum and glee. There is a special pause that follows this in which the child can choose 2 paths: the slow-build whine to cry, or the high road. This is a choice because it’s proven that children 95% rubber and 5% sticky hands. So Harlow, the Rockstar Bandito, takes the pause moment to encounter a new world, she looks around from the worms-eye-view and finds new things to play with. A discarded rubber band, or “A LEAF! HAHAHAHA!”

Did I mention cartoons include the timeless Frozen? It really grows on you the sixth time though.

All this is to say, I love being an Uncle and have now been confronted with the uncomfortable truth that fathering a child, would be a bit more satisfying than fathering a cat. Having said that, we’re in no rush, this is not a baby announcement post, and Moses just turned 11 so I’m thrilled to stay Uncle Doodoo (apt nickname) for a while.