Thanks

I'd like to thank the many people who offered kind words while my wife recovered from minor surgery last week. She's getting better all the time, and it's times like these that are gentle reminders how much I depend upon her and how much the family and I love her.

I would also really like to thank Deb Jordahl, Matt Weiss, Chris Lufter and Kevin Binversie for filling in last week. I had fun reading their posts just like the rest of you and thought they did a great job. I hope they enjoyed their time here. I can't thank them enough.

Of course, while I was away my blog traffic went up, my Technorati score went up, my TTLB ecosystem ranking went up, and I received an invitation to join another blogging syndication network. I know that won't mean anything to most of you, but it really means I should take vacations more often.

Genealogy bleg

My wife, the lovely Doreen from Waukesha, is related to the actual "Pistol Packin' Mama" of song, and folk musician left-winger Pete Seeger apparently knows about Doreen's aunt and her family.

So if any of my more leftwing readers knows a way to get in touch with Pete Seeger -maybe you met him at Earth Day or a concert for the Sandinistas - I sincerely would appreciate it if you could let me know.

Ten years after

Decade. Sounds longer than it is. Ten years ago this evening I was meeting someone face-to-face for the first time. I was stood up by a friend and her future husband who were supposed to be there in case the evening turned out to be a real drag. Instead it turned out to be one of the most important evenings of my life.

By the way, the Milwaukee Ballet still owes us an explanation about Tybalt and his aunt.

Ten years, ten days. If my son or daughter comes and tells me a similar story, I'll kill them. Actually I won't have to because their mother will.

Ten days after we met we were laughing in a jewelry store as a salesman asked me about an engagement ring, "What would it take for you to buy this ring today?" A little while later we were in another jewelry store buying a ring for real.

Did she know what she was getting into? We were waiting for a fax from my lawyers. So I guess the answer was "maybe." Check back in another ten years and we'll see if I made it through the probationary period.

I may be unsentimental about most things, but I'll never forget the first time we attended Mass together. A couple was there celebrating sixty years together. Sounds good to me.

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