I had a name. Sometimes it was on my collar, sometimes embedded in a microchip, but more often than not, any reference to my identity has been removed; not to protect the innocent, but to shield the cowardly guilty. But the fact remains that I did have a name, and an identity, and a place in a social hierarchy before being unceremoniously dumped to fend for myself in a world that I couldn't imagine even…

Dad here; its been two weeks since the accident, and span seems like an eternity for someone who desperately needs to be figuring out what comes next, but the revolving door of pain, pain medication, and the general feeling of uselessness acquired from laying supine on the couch crowds any thoughts of creativity from one's brain. Mom's first response when she heard of my predicament was one of pity, to have covered over two thousand…

Psst! Hey, Claire! Whassup, Ajax? Mom's gone! Alex called, seems to have locked herself out of her apartment getting ready for work, and mom took off over there with her lock-picking skills to save the day! And she took Marco the Narco with her, that yappy little tattletail! That means that dad is alone and particularly vulnerable with that cast on his leg, and more importantly, there are no witnesses! Ajax, you're leaving out two…

The final installment in the Saga The road to recovery from an Achilles tendon rupture is a long one, over eight months in a cast or boot of some sort. At first there's the description; "tendon" and "rupture" are two words that should be forbidden by law to be mentioned in the same room, let alone the same sentence. Then there's the procedure; after re-attachment, I was sent home in a cast with my toes…

Have you ever noticed that your times of most acute loneliness are often in the company of people that you know very well? Or even worse, in a social setting that you possibly helped introduce a newcomer to the group, only to later find yourself the outsider? Before you know it, you seem to be on the outside looking in, your opinions sought only after the actual decision has been made, the easy banter that…

Dad here; as most of you now know, I had an unplanned motorcycle dismount on our last trip to New Mexico, resulting in a dislocated ankle and broken fibula. "Fibula" is an ancient Mayan word meaning "bone that carries small load but much pain". Surgery is planned for next week, and those that know me will attest to the fact that the Casa is in for a wild ride. You see, I have a VERY…

Conventional wisdom would dictate that when one loses a job, life slows down. This has NOT been the case at the Casa del Whackos. It's almost embarrassing, as it seems like we have been on a perpetual journey since that Day of Emancipation back in April, so busy that we haven't had a chance to become consumed with worry as to "What's next?", as what's next is happening right now. Gary Larson, the author and…