Not Solo

Similar to the Bike Snob and other great bloggers, my wife Jeanine has exercised her option to a blogging vacation.  She's asked me, Nate, to attempt publishing a post in her absence.

Let me preface this by stating that I've never actually posted anything in my life, so if you're put off by the nihilistic style (aka, non-style) or lack of wit, don't blame Jeanine and tune in next week for her continuing aestheticism and wily pith.

When I was 19, I did the proper Mormon thing and signed up for my two year mission.  If any of Jeanine's readers are not savvy to the ways of mormondom, young adult boys ('cuz really how mature can a 19 year old be) and women give up life as they know it and head off to some unknown corner of the world to preach their faith.  Obviously, my keen brothers were aware of the soon to be available bounty of my former room and possessions, effectuated by my near departure.  With feigned respect, the two of them vowed to keep intact some semblance of my life in anticipation of my far-off return to 'normalcy'. 

The 20.8 mile drive from my family's home to the John Wayne Airport is a pretty quick trip up and over the San Joaquin hills, which was to be a great parting memory of southern California, until the aforementioned brothers called to say thanks for all the CDs, clothes, comic books, etc.  I love those guys.

Now most, if not all of you, are thinking "what is this dribble"?  Well, Jeanine left me this weekend to explore the birthplace of Coca-Cola.  Facilitating this, I dropped her off at LAX at 3:08 so that she could board her flight at 4:15.  It's roughly a 30 minute drive back to our house - given the remaining time, it might surprise some that this was the scene at our house when Jeanine called right before she jumped on the plane:

Well, what you would see if it were not a blurry blackberry photo, would be two smiling kids looking over the back of the couch that had been moved into the kitchen, in front of the computer so that they could watch Batman while their Dad cooked up frozen pizza.  Yep, I'm a stellar father.

Hopefully Jeanine doesn't read this until after she's had her fill of Georgia's fifth capital.