Dad wonders how I know, but I know; he thinks it might be the difference between khakis and kevlar, or shoelaces and velcro, but that's not it. It's not what clothes that he puts on that makes me lose my mind, but the vibe his soul gives off. Because I know that we're going for a motorcycle ride! This knowledge causes a switch to literally flip in my brain, and I go into full "Chark"…

Dad here; after a few warm days at the Casa, winter has returned with a vengeance, causing the canines to refuse to leave the cozy confines of the bed. Of course, "cozy" could be a synonym for "claustrophobic" if one is the meat in the dog sandwich, but who am I to complain? It's obvious that I exist only to do the bidding of these hairy ingrates. I remember a few years back when I…

The darkest hour is always just before dawn, but even through the inky blackness, we can detect movement along the perimeter. The Marcoterrorist is up to his usual tactics, using the volume of mom's lumberjack activities(does OSHA know that she operates a sawmill at night? Is that even legal?) to cover the sound of his stealthy approach as he probes our defenses in search of a way of attack. By our defenses, I am implying…

It's Charlie Bravo Day Eve at the Casa del Whackos, and Charlie's in one of her moods. On certain nights, she decides that she wants to start the night alone on the couch, but will eventually migrate to the bed by the next morning. Other nights she sleeps like the dead in a sprawl of perpendicularly placed dogs that force me to assume the shape of a contorted starfish to secure any available sleeping area.…

Are you not entertained? Typical Sunday night at the Casa del Whackos; I'm worn out from a long motorcycle ride and sprawled out on the couch with Ajax, and all of the other chairs are covered with snoring dogs or dog hair. Dad is ironing his armor in preparation of the coming week; you know, that emasculating ensemble required by corporate America that is neither "business" or "casual", but is somehow expected to be both.…

Dad here; I need to be getting ready for that four-letter word known as work, as it is Charlie Bravo Day and as such, Charlie should be doing the post herself this morning. It speaks volumes for this relationship that the tactics she uses so effectively on me to coerce me to do her bidding doesn't seem to affect her in the slightest when I use them on her, so here she lays, an immovable,…

Thursday night at the Casa; mom and Mia has wisely fled for the bedroom and solitude, as the kidlets are in rare form tonight. Charlie and Claire are re-enacting the epic Battle of Bitey Mouth, Ajax the Terminally Scrappy is taking every opportunity to snap at any exposed appendages. Marco Polo is skittling around in his underbritches that mom makes him wear because, although his weaponry has been altered, he still feels the need to…