View from my dining room window at 6:57 am, as the plaster shook from heavy machinery dropping chunks of asphalt.  I love urban living, I love urban living, I love urban living, I love urban living...

I'm a sentimental fool who's shocked at how fast he's aging.    Despite the gray hair, I still can't believe that 20 years ago I was finishing my final season of swimming and preparing for a graduation trip to Ireland with my father.   I also can't believe that I really dug the cheesy music of the period.  Consider these gems for your aural pleasure.  Oh the humanity!   

Old Friends

Hello again. Remember me? I'm the blogger who stood you up back in 2009. The jerk who stopped calling without so much as an explanation. The one who left you for those twin trollops Facebook and Twitter. Now, with much sheepishness and hat in hand, I'm hoping you'll take me back. Or at least give me a second chance. And if you don't, Mary's gonna have words with you. Let's not go there.

Much has changed since my last post. I've run and NOT run thanks to various body parts breaking on me. I've managed to not kill myself while driving on the wrong side of the road in England, AND discovered all the charms of Budapest despite the freezing cold and a distinct lack of proper brewed coffee. Which brings me to the fact that I'm now denying myself that sweet fuel of the Portlandia consciousness, but that's another post. I suppose that last one calls for a new profile photo, then again who says you have to take down cherished shots of your glory days.

So here's to forgiveness and picking up where things left off.