A Confession

Step one of any of your popular multi-step programs is to admit you have a problem. It's been building for a long time now, but I have been putting it completely out of my mind. Yet, this morning, as I nursed my coffee (I un-gave-up coffee on Friday, by the way), driving gingerly so as to not light up the full aural force of the Flowmaster 50 on my way to work, which, don't get me wrong, is a great sounding muffler, just maybe not so much early Monday morning after such a great weekend, I was struck with the undeniable truth.

I don't know why it took me so long to figure it out. I think maybe all those years in Kalifornia working long hours trying to get the career going. Then immediately along came The Childrens. I didn't really have time to ponder. I just tried to get through each day without the grim face of death showing in my rear view mirror.

Just as things started to settle in, the move to Ft. TomCollins popped up suddenly. A remarkable tumult that has been. A new house. New everything - tractor, snow blower, air hockey, deck, Carl, oh and did I mention the wonderful bar with the new bar stools?

Ah, the bar. My whole life I've wanted a house with a bar. I had a little bar of sorts at the San Schmose house, but the previous owner had removed the actual bar part, leaving just the little counter under the stairs with its sad, lonely sink. Nothing like the bar I have now. Yeah, and maybe I went a little crazy - did I mention I now have nine different kinds of whiskey? Nine. What man really needs nine different whiskeys? (Though, honestly, I only drink 8 of them. The Scotch is just for guests.) I only have three kinds of rum. Everything else is one flavor - take it or leave it. And the whole "never blog sober thing" - a rule I am ironically breaking with this post - that hasn't helped the matter any.

But anyways, now after a year in the new job, in the new city, in the new house, I've been giving it some thought. I think about it a lot - on weekends on the way to Target, on the way to my doctor's appointment, nearly every day on the way to work, most days on the way home. It's just a lot more front-and-center now than it ever was back in Kalifornia.

So, anyways, step one. I'm going to come right out and say it publicly in this forum. A forum where I can always feel accepted, despite my faults. A forum of friends and family and people I don't even know but think of as friends anyways. And, a forum where I stand to make a buck or two off selling advertising space on my step one.

Are we allowed to turn step one into a commercial venture? Or does that void the whole thing? Well, anyways, I'll have to google that and get back to you. [Update: You'll all be happy to know that I made nothing off my step one. I made already two bucks off the latest installment of Duh or No Duh, though. It just goes to show that there's no accounting for taste. Not with this crowd, at least.]

So, here it is. This morning, I remember the precise moment when it happened. When I finally admitted to myself something I had been denying for a long time. Something I was afraid would make me a lot less manly - but the time for misplaced machismo is passed. It was precisely when I was making the right turn from Kechter onto Ziegler. I can't keep up the facade anymore.

I really like traffic circles.