I have been vehemently against bringing a dog into our family for a long time. I always used random and very valid excuses such as “our landlord doesn’t allow it” or “the kids are too young” or “we don’t own the house”.

But now we own a house, don’t have a landlord, and my kids are plenty old enough (not that I’ll ever admit they aren’t my tiny babies)

So, of course, we now have a dog.


daww look at those ears

What’s funny about this situation is that it was me that first met the dog, first fell in love, and first raised the idea to my wife. She, wanting a dog for forever, clearly was not understanding when I started sending her pictures of this dog.


I’ll just say that owning a dog is self serving as I want to live a happier, healthier life. It’s a known fact.

(maybe it’s the repeated bending over to pick up steaming piles of poop)

One thing I did not expect was how concerned our dog was when I was not feeling the greatest last night. She kept her paw and her eye on my all night long as I was battling an insane migraine huddled under a blanket.


don’t worry dad, I’ll make you better… with millions of licks


Hey. Does anyone even read blogs anymore? It seems that there is a transition from blog format, to a quick jot of words in less than 300 characters.

There is a part of me that misses blogging about random things, but I think I haven’t done it in a while because a) it felt slightly narcissistic and b) I thought I was the only one reading it.

That was until a few days ago where someone dropped a comment to an Instragram post where she “used to read” my blog. Got me thinking, well why not start again. Maybe no one will read but it will allow me to escape reality and enter my own consciousness while spewing down words.

I should watch what I say

I like being a home-body. I also like people. It’s a weird combination where I like being alone and surrounded by people at the same time. I wish that it was the case that both provide a sort of energy for me equally, but that’s not the case. It’s more that each has it’s own special type of energy that the other recharges. So in order to have lots of energy for people, I need to recharge by being alone and in order to have lots of energy for being alone I need to be around people.


shankrabbit, that equation doesn’t work out.

No, I know it doesn't but I’m sort of messed up like that.

What it does do is it makes me get involved in a lot of activities and at the same time want to avoid said activities. But I force myself to stay involved and continue doing the activities that I’ve signed up for.

There is, however, a downside of being very involved in other people’s lives. I’ve REALLY got to watch what I say. Being cut off from the world allows you to say whatever you want, especially when it concerns communication on the internet. I think that’s part of the introvert’s addiction in the digital age. It’s a drug to remain anonymous and say whatever you want, be whoever you want to be, have multiple personalities and zero accountability. But when you’re involved directly with other people, you need to have your filter, need to be consistent, have accountability. In a way, it keeps you a “good person”.

So I’m being forced to be “good”… which is a good thing.

Hopefully I Remain Consistent

Maybe this time I’ll remain consistent in blogging… maybe not. But like life I, and I hope you, enjoy it while it lasts.


Last sunday I was sitting around with a bunch of teens from our church and discussing a million things at a million miles an hour. It’s entertaining but challenging to keep up with the randomness that engulfs the adolecent mind. It keeps you on your toes… keeps you active… keeps you aware of just how fast they can process random things and how difficult it is for them to stay on any one topic for too long.

During our discussions, one of them raised a question,


When did you become the “old guy”?




Awesome… First of all, I’m only 33. This is not what anyone would classify as “old”, second of all – I still listen to popular music, I’m on top of most to all of the trends (even if I do think some of them are stupid), and I know WAY more about the world then you do… SO GET OFF MY LAWN!!


Oh my god… I have become the old guy.


To be fair to the teen who asked me this question, I was graduating high school when he was born. I could legally smoke, drive a car, vote, and move out on my own when his poor mother was pushing him out of the womb. In perspective of his life… I’m “old”.


I think there’s a distinction between “old” as it pertains to being an adult and “old” as in, you’re over the age of 70 and your body is falling apart. I know the question was more geared towards the former and it got me thinking about when I did finally start feeling like an adult. That I will give him… I do feel like an adult now. Was it when I started my career? No… I started my career at 20 and I definitely wasn’t an adult then. Was it when I got married? No, we were just two kids married to each other at 24. Was it when I had my first child? No… I had no idea what I was doing and still felt like a kid with WAY too much responsibility. Then I figured it out…


I started feeling like an adult when the most trivial of actions had ridiculous sized consquences.


Here’s the deal – I can’t get away with anything right now. I have to watch every single action or word that comes out of my mouth because everyone will jump down my throat and punish me as hard as they can. I, by default, am a horrible person that is out to steal your wife, your money, your kids, and ruin your life.


I became old when one false step meant my life was ruined. There is no forgiveness when you’re an adult male. One wrong word and you’re fired from your job or thrown into jail. There is this bell curve of how much people scrutinize your life and it really spikes at 30.


my paint skillz are amazing

When you’re a child you can get away with so much because you’re still learning how to be an adult and when you pass by a certain older age, people just think you’re going senile and reverting to a child like state.


The other day I was talking to a teller at the bank and was being generally nice to her as I am with most humans, when this 75-ish year old guy comes in and just blurts out, “well since you’re flirting with that one, I’m going to try my luck with this cutie” as he walked up to the other female teller. And everyone there giggled. See? He can get away with that because he’s old. But if the roles were reveresed I could very possibly have a sexual assault case throw at me. One word = life ruined.


So I guess the answer is “30”. Right at 30 is when I became an old man adult because I have to be ever so careful in what I say or do. I hate being in this “bump” in the graph. Always feeling like I’m being judged and having to justify my actions stinks.


I can’t wait till i’m 80 and can cat call from my front porch when a 20 something walks by and she’ll look up and smile because it’s “so adorable”.


10 years ago today, I dropped down to one knee and took a chance. I took a chance on a girl who I had always thought was too good for me, was too out of my league, was too street smart, too beautiful, too amazing to ever be with a guy like me.

I dropped to one knee in the middle of a forest in North Carolina and struggled to get the ring out of my camera bag. She struggled to see that I was proposing to her. She thought that I had fallen or that I dropped something so she immediately tried to help me up. It took her 3 more seconds to realize what was going on.

I finally got the ring out, and asked her to marry me.

I had no idea what I was getting myself into, had no idea what it was for, no idea what it really meant.


I never thought it would be this amazing.

There were a few times this past month where I cracked open ye old blog editor, started typing nonsense and then got distracted. This led to a total of 1000 words that got lost to the ether, never to be seen by this blog. I'll try to make up for it in June. 

Let's talk about doctors.

Now that Isabella successfully had her surgery and has recovered quite nicely from it (you go girl), I felt that it was my time to shine in the medical mystery spotlight. For the past few months I had been having interesting digestive symptoms that felt a heck of a lot like getting "glutened" when I know darn well I had not ingested any of it. 

Now, for those of you that are new or may not remember, I sincerely wish that I was one of those people who did the gluten free thing because of a diet or because it "made me slightly gassy", unfortunately I am full on diagnosed celiac. This disease, if you're not aware yet, is an auto-immune disorder where my body has decided that it hates anything made with "delicious". So much so, that when I do eat any of this delicious, it just decides to beat the crap out itself. That is, my white blood cells attack the villi in my small intestine. 

You know... because... genetics. Yay!

Anyway, gluten free diet but having symptoms as though I wasn't. This evolved into a pressure under my left rib cage that manifested itself after eating "certain" things. I tried pro-biotics, I tried diet alteration, I tried antacids, I tried a lot of things. Why?! 

Because I hate doctors. 

I don't hate the people... I hate what they represent. Doctors represent the fragility of my body. I hate being fragile.

After trying many natural things to fix this pain issue, I finally broke down and visited my local doctor. After explaining these symptoms to him I got a "sounds like heart burn"... hrm... well, ok it may sound like heartburn, but I can tell you it's not. But, you're the doctor - so give me some heart burn meds (because the OTC stuff wasn't good enough) and lets call it a day.

2 weeks later, still pain, no change. Sitting in my office, holding my left hand side, I said screw it and went into a walk-in clinic at the behest of my wife. I walk in (like the clinic told me to), explain the pressure I've been having after eating, and she immediately says, "well, I'll have to talk with the doctor down here because I'm not sure we want to take a heart issue... we might walk you up to the emergency room". 

Wut? I said "digestive"... not heart... I'm not having a heart att...aaand here we go up to the emergency room. 

Upon arriving in the emergency room, I was told to get in a gown, lay down, had an IV jammed in and 6 viles of blood taken, all with nurses scrambling around me. Whoa whoa whoa whoa... what the crap?! I went from having some pressure in my lower chest to hard core emergency patient. 

After a bit of panicking and the emergency doc finally chilling everyone out, I was free to go with a referral to a gastroenterologist (couldn't they have done that in the walk-in?).

Let's talk about bacteria.

Most bacteria is actually really good for your body. We have billions of bacteria chilling in our flesh bags in a pretty symbiotic relationship. From our mouths, to our skin, to our insides... it's everywhere. 

Sometimes bad bacteria gets in there and needs to be killed, which a fever and some white blood cells take pretty quick action on. 

Sometimes bacteria growth just gets out of hand. 

When this happens in your intestines, specifically your small intestine, this is a bad thing. A newly discovered diagnosis called Small Intestinal Bacteria Overgrowth, or SIBO, has been found to effect a lot of people. Turns out, in celiacs, it's really common. I would have never known this had I not gotten the referral to the quite amazing GI doctor. 

SIBO presents itself most commonly when you have any sort of damage to your small intestine which would prohibit the normal muscular contractions that keep the large intestine's bacteria out. Also, and I write this with a whole crap ton of disdain towards the other doctor, stomach acid is another huge player in keeping your small intestine overgrowth free. 

Being on an acid inhibitor was one of the worst things that I could have done. Way to go, doofus.

Further reading about SIBO also leads to some recent studies that show that this whole "gluten intolerance" thing might be a load of garbage (remember, gluten intolerance is nothing like being a celiac) and that, in fact, it might be people suffering from SIBO. One of the things that plays to comfort with SIBO is a low FODMAP diet. Which, ironically enough, includes eating lots of gluten free stuff.

Let's talk about future updates.

I actually have a lot of other stuff I want to write about that happened in May, but will do so later this month. I feel that your attentiveness to this text is dwindling... or is it my dwindling attentiveness to writing... 

Probably both.