Don't ask, don't tell

I thought I'd be blogging all the time, just like the old days, but raising a preschooler solo and spending 45 minutes a night handwriting letters kinda takes it out of me.

According to his letters, Noah is transforming into a completely alien creature who irons his underwear and takes pride in the crisp 45-degree angles of his bed sheets and receives recognition for his towel-folding skillz and gets mad at himself for improperly orienting his pillow. In short, the Navy is slowly and systematically making him into a Stepford Wife.

On the other hand, I've had to do a number of things that, in my humble opinion, have earned me a few "You're The Man"s:

• Found myself shoulder-deep in a storm drain retrieving a crappy toy ring for a crying child
• Found myself elbow-deep in a really gross submerged water meter after a nearby water main burst
• Come to think of it, I've been elbow-and-shoulder-deep in way more things than I ever have been before
• I've chopped wood more than once, on the old stump out back
• I've started and maintained several fires (legally, in my fireplace)
• I've killed bugs that looked threatening and caught and released others that somehow made me feel sorry for them
• I've identified and interred a dead mouse (if you count "picking it up with a shovel and throwing it into the woods" interring)
• I've identified and made my dad dispose of a dead rat (OMG GROSS)
• I've suppressed tears more than once but was ultimately overcome most of the time

In reality, I think my level of pride in doing these manly things make me less The Man than it makes me A Gay Man, but whatever.