Today was my big neighborhood event, a cleanup of the streets around Cherrywood Park. It has been bugging me for years that leaves and dirt and everything else just piles up on the street, decomposes, congeals, and grows. I was originally going to go out with a bucket and a spade and spend 30 minutes every Saturday for the next 2 years until it was done, but then I went to a neighborhood Garden Club meeting.

I mentioned to the association leader that I had this idea for a project and he was like, great, can you organize it all? Yeah … I can. So I set out figuring out what to do. First I contacted the city, and that turned into a ton of conference calls. Just to pick up dirt. But I got our congressperson involved with his office, Code Compliance, and Parks and Rec. They have a tool borrowing program, so I got 5 shovels, 5 rakes, 5 brooms, 5 trash pickers, 100 bags, 15 gloves, and a leaf blower delivered to my house on Friday.

We advertised it through the neighborhood association and garden club and about 30 people showed up this morning from 9-11. I thought it would take us much longer, but people really worked hard and scraped up every bit of dirt on the street. They even met with the homeowner whose house we were essentially cleaning and got permissions to trim her shrubs back so you could actually walk on the sidewalk. Am I really the head of the Dallas Walkability Council now?!

It was a lot to put together, but honestly, it wasn’t that bad. Daniel asked me last night as we were going to bed if I was nervous, and I laughed and said YES. Why do I keep doing these kinds of things? Why do I put myself in these situations? And he said, “Because you couldn’t keep your fucking mouth shut at your fucking garden club meeting.” And you just have to admit, he’s totally right. So we’ll see what I end up planning next! Stay tuned!

On Wednesday, September 23, 2026, Daniel’s father, Paul passed away. He had been sick and was in hospice care, but all the same it was unexpected. Paul had moved up to Bellingham to live with his wife, both for better climate and for a little assistance.

Daniel planned a trip to go see him and spend some quality time. They had made reservations at different fancy restaurants for every night of the week. But when he got there, he quickly realized that probably wasn’t happening. The situation was rapidly declining, so he extended his trip and I bought a plane ticket to join him Friday after work so I could help out. Unfortunately, he succumbed to his illness sooner than expected. I changed my ticket to the earliest flight the next day and headed up.

Any way you slice it, it’s about a full day to get up to Seattle and then up to Bellingham. When I landed, I checked the big board for my gate information for my connecting flight only to see the word, “CANCELED.” Not delayed. Just canceled. I was really trying not to be a burden but I was like wtf do I do. His mom will typically not fly between cities, but take a bus charter instead. I got the details for the bus, bought a ticket immediately even if it wasn’t going to work, and then set out trying to figure out where to go. You would think the website would have some instructions, but no. I called the number and this nice man stayed on the line as he walked me through where to go. The bus was waiting and I got on board and not 15 minutes later, we were set out for our 2 hour drive up to Bellingham.

I got there by like 8pm. Daniel met me at the Sheraton 4-Points hotel. We said hi to his mom standing in the rain and then went to our fancy hotel. Everything in Bellingham pretty much shuts down at 9pm, so we had to rush to the restaurant next door, and apologize to the wait staff because we were the last ones there past closing, but they were very nice about it. My goal was to just be a fly on the wall, provide emotional support, and help out in any way I could while the family sorted out the most immediate concerns.

Really, I thought we could have short stints of a nice little weekend, and we did. Bellingham is a cute town, although way far left of my comfort zone – and that’s saying a lot! Our hotel was really nice, overlooking the water, far from the train tracks, and quiet. One morning, we ran into Lucien Laviscount, who played Alfie in Emily in Paris, that godawful TV show. I didn’t recognize him immediately, just said good morning as we passed on the elevator, but then I paused thinking, do I know him? I turned to Daniel and his jaw was on the ground. Rumor is that Tyler Perry was in town filming a movie with John Cena and Michael Buble. We even saw a helicopter over the water performing what looked to be repeated fake rescue operations surrounded by boats potentially housing cameras? When the next Tyler Perry movie comes out we’re going to go see it and if it doesn’t have Lucien in a water rescue scene we’re gonna feel like idiots.

We had some good meals, a few cries, and provided some useful help to his mother. Daniel is the first from our generation to lose a parent, and it was a reminder that we are entering that chapter of our lives. Paul will be deeply missed but always remembered.

Last night we attended a charity gala. I wouldn’t say we’re exactly gallerinas, but this one was pretty fun. We got some “free” tickets because my dad had made a donation in honor of his late brother, so there was some obligation to go. Plus this is one of the charities I’ve worked with in my side gig and I know the founder well, so … we put on suit jackets despite the 100+ temperatures and set out for a warehouse venue near the Galleria.

What was funny is that it was on some random street we’ve never heard of or seen, and yet just the night before we were like 3 doors down. We went and saw a traveling exhibit of the Trump Epstein Files Reading Room. They printed out all 3 million pages of redacted released files, and put them into volumes on rows and rows of book cases. We promptly started pulling books out and leafing through them looking for a previously unnoticed gold nugget. Some dude came up and said, “I don’t think you’re actually supposed to touch the books.” Which then made us paranoid so we stopped. But it was called “reading room” so I don’t get what the hell else you were supposed to do there. It ended up taking like 10 minutes to get thru and then we went to dinner.

Anyway, the gala was fun. It was very inspiring to be in a room full of people who care about other people when that seems to be in low supply these days. Some of the residents of the homeless shelter program even took the mic and spoke about their experiences, which was moving. I got a little emotional when one by one they said how terrible things had gotten that they googled for help and found this organization #1 in the list, because I’m the one that got that all set up and working. So that was cool to remember that things you’ve done previously can continue to have a ripple effect.

Great meal, good conversations, made a little donation in excess of what we do monthly (and doubled it using my employer), so all in all I’d say it was a wonderful evening.

Beltline is the road here in Addison/Carrollton that I live/work on. Every day I drive its length once in the morning and once in the evening … okay … afternoon. I am the most well tempered driver that I know, but frankly, dear viewers, the way people drive on Beltline is starting to get to me. The way I see it, there are only three kinds of drivers on this road.

Unconcerned With The Speed Limit
This person does not care what the speed limit is on the road, they are not in a hurry. Despite the 40 mph speed limit, they choose to go anywhere from 30 to 20 mph, even when no cars are in front of them. I’d say this is the majority of Beltline drivers. I admire their lackadaisical approach to the passage of time, but when you’re already 40 minutes late to work, they can be a bit frustrating.

In The Wrong Lane
Despite their best efforts, these drivers simply cannot get into the correct lane. If they’re turning right, they stay in the left lane as long as possible. This requires them to make evasive maneuvers to get into the lane they need to be in, often decreasing their speed well below that of Unconcerned With The Speed Limit to get behind them. I don’t have to tell you that this only complicates the problem.

Wife In Labor
Whenever someone is being a jackass, going too fast, and swerving between lanes, I always try to be understanding. I generally assume that their wife is in the passenger seat going into labor and they need to get to the hospital (or sometimes the mall or movie theater) as fast as possible. Residents of Addison must be fuckin like rabbits because there are tons of people driving around with wives in labor. It’s not exactly easy for them with our other two personality types, but somehow they dangerously manage.

So this is my plea to anyone who drives on Beltline. Go the fucking speed limit and stay in the lane you need to be in and we can all get where we’re going faster. While I was stuck in traffic, I was composing this blog in my head, so you’ll have to bear with it’s length. I was only going to talk about drivers until I heard a radio ad for free booze tonight. I got so excited. Until they went “BOO! There’s one free!” Fuck me, they meant free ‘boo’s. Give me a break. Don’t joke about free booze.

Then that reminded me of when those bible thumping dumb fucks in the dorm would post signs that said, “FREE BEER! Now that we’ve got your attention, come to bible study.” It’s just not cool. The bible, I mean.

Then that reminded me of when we had a couch burning at the dorm. Somebody found a loveseat and innocuously stored it outside the dorm during the day. Then around midnight Operation Hot Pocket torched that shit. The next day Allison and I hung up signs on all the doors that said, “Has anybody seen my couch? It was a brown loveseat. I left it outside the dorm last night.” It was hilarious. Then that reminded me of when Allison and I hung signs in the MSC on the doors of the locked bathrooms that said, “Door not working properly. Push HARD!!!” That was even funnier.

Today on my way into work, I found two dollar bills laying on the ground. Chalk it up to good luck, I thought to myself. Not an hour after sitting down at my desk, a guy came by and gave me a check for 20 bucks to buy a Thanksgiving turkey — a gift from the company. Score! Like an hour later, I find out that I got a bonus check for the third quarter. Big score! I was feeling so lucky that I bought like 5 scratch off tickets trying to capitalize on my newfound diety status. I lost on all of them. Oh well, I still came out ahead.

And that concludes my predetermined blog material. Thanks for reading, you have nots!

Let me tell you all why I love my friends. Not to harp on the issue (although, in reality, its the only thing really happening in my life right now) but I’ve been complaining for a while now fairly consistently that I have no money. If you think the pissing and moaning has been confined to just this webpage, you are sorely mistaken. I bitch day and night … and apparently its starting to work.

My friend Mark felt sympathetic towards my situation and said that the next time I run into him, he will buy me two beers. Ryan went one step further to say that he would buy a bunch of Keystone and we could sit at his apartment and play 6-cup. Raul took the cake by telling me that Saturday night, drinks are on him. And this is why I love my friends.

As of yet, nobody has offered to buy me any food despite the fact that I’ve spent both nights starving in bed after trying to assuage my hunger pangs with canned tuna and stale tostitos. And that is why I love my friends. So anybody who wants to help a brotha out, I haven’t been to Outback in aaaages. Thanks and gig me.

Oh yeah, and on a side note. Webcam is gone. Sorry kiddos. I have one fucked up PC, one broken camera, and one camera that won’t load or work on my laptop. Plus I’m sick of being exposed. The end.