my wife is wacko.
yes
and?
that’s right…take the big pile of cookies and walk away
now she boogies
in underwear
with finger pointing
looking at me with wary eyes
“laundry has been in there for a long time”
“stinks” she says
no duh
mold.

My wife is absolutely insane. This is a phrase I’m sure uttered by many a husband, so it is nothing new, really. I don’t feel like I am isolated in feeling this way, or that I have witnessed some new and exciting form of insanity in my wife. I just simply feel that she is utterly fucking nuts.

Each day my wife achieves new heights of insanity. She climbs the mountain of ill mental health, whose top is obscured by clouds. Already she has reached thousands and thousands of feet above ground, but the clouds force her to stop.

There are two types of insane women: The type who see the clouds and assume they can go no further, and the kind who know that the clouds are simply obscuring the even greater heights they could achieve; for these women, the clouds are taunting, a dare of sorts. In essence, there are those who are insane and simply stay insane, and those who say to themselves, “This isn’t over. That son of a bitch goes at least another few hundred feet, and I’ll be dammed if I’m just going to stop at crying maniacally over a burnt batch of cookies.”

My wife is of the latter persuasion. Each day I think she has gone as far as she can go. Having seen the cloudy roof wrapped around her insanity mountain, she has stopped. Then, the alarm goes off and someone hands her a brand new pickax and another length of rope. No patch of fog is going to keep her from the summit. Though she cannot see the actual peak of this frightening monstrosity, she weathers on, knowing that someday, somehow, she will achieve her dream of peak insanity.

At that moment she will jump and cheer, her body aching from years of agonizing climbing, the equivalent of climbing Everest, ten steps at time, morning, noon and night. After celebrating, she will pull out her flag (which features a cross-eyed face doing the “loop-de-loop” motion to the right of it’s ear, signifying craziness) and plant it squarely into the mad ground. She will have achieved her goal, her dream, her one true expression of just how hard she has worked in this life.

But that’s just fine by me, you see, because I always have a wide grin on my face these days, knowing that she is by my side, that she is mine, that we had found one another and were smart enough to know that when it’s right, it’s right. I will feel this way for as long as I live: during arguments, tough times, while raising children, no matter what. I may forget on the surface at times, but deep in my heart I will always know it is right.

Even when she murders me in my sleep.

My marriage license arrived today, November 9th, after nearly a week’s delay.

I was married to the women of my dreams on October 17th, and while I did think of him on my wedding day, it did not occur to me that the anniversary of his death was right around the corner.

Something tells me that he did not want any of us–my Mother, my Aunt and my Cousin–thinking about his death on that day.

So instead he made sure that the license was delayed and arrived today. Not on a random Tuesday, a random November 6th, or any other day. The envelope could have been stuck between the cushions of the mail truck, or slid under the seat, but I don’t believe that. We should all accept that things happen for a reason.

And he wanted that envelope to arrive today: the day he had to leave us. We could remember and then rejoice.

That’s awesome.

Always loved this closing line from Donne:

One short sleepe past, wee wake eternally,
And death shall be no more; death, thou shalt die.

Mr. and Mrs. Brian Clark

It was five months of planning, preparation, decisions and very difficult times, all leading up to the best day of my life (so far; I expect many more from this woman). Between the decision to use my Mother and her husband’s home as the venue, the food, the flowers, the invites, the music, the chairs & tables, decorations, wedding shower, and everything else that I’m sure I’ve forgotten, our wedding succeeded thanks to the work of a large group of people.

My mother, Susan, and her husband, Jeff.

Angela’s parents, Kay and Adriana.

My step-parents, Don and Judi.

My Aunt Linda, Uncle Ron and Cousin Laura.

Angela’s brother and sister-in-law, David and Sara (and Andrew for wearing the vest)

My step-sister, Kendall and her husband, Brandon.

Our family friend, Melanie.

If there is anyone we left out, and you happen to stumble on over to this silly site and not see your name, just blame it on me, but know that we thank you as well.

We will never be able to thank you all enough for helping to bring us the most perfect and happiest day of our lives (like I said, so far). We love each and ever one of you very much.

Looking back, Angela and I breathed a collective sigh and are currently basking in the unbelievable fact that there is nothing left to plan. The days felt empty for two seconds before they were filled with an amazing new thought:

We did it.

So, finally,  here’s to you, Angela: My stunning, kind, generous and absolutely wonderful wife. I will love you until my last breath.

We did it, indeed.

Sorry ladies and gentlemen, but we are off the market.

Heading off to a much-needed vacation to Singapore and Malaysia with my soon-to-be wife! That’s a picture of us getting our marriage license today at the court, in case any of you were doubting my ability to actually LAND a woman.

Anyway, going to try and blog as much as I can while there and throw up some photos. If it doesn’t work out (seeing as how my blog may be targeted by the Singaporean authorities), rest assured there will be plenty to see upon our return.

So, “Adios!” and I’ll see everyone in 2 weeks!

If you want to follow our trip progress, I’ll be making a valiant effort to Facebook it. Follow me.

Brian

This picture has nothing to do with this post, but it has gone viral on the internet in recent days.  Since this is mostly an update for the sake of refreshing my site content and letting my 2 readers know I haven’t given up on it, I figured I’d post it.

Back in the saddle with work, so to speak. Found a great new job while continuing to work with clients for House of Copy.

Also working on some updates to my site here, but more importantly, to HouseofCopy.com. We have been working hard on redesign ideas to make the site more user/inquiring-client friendly but also somewhat appealing to the eye.

Be sure to check out WineWelfare.com as well, since there will also be some redesigns coming for that early next year.

Writing quite a lot as well in the midst of everything else, so get ready for a new story and some new articles to pop up.

Oh, I almost forgot, I’m also getting married in October, so, you know, that takes a little planning and work as well.

Thanks for checking in…both of you.

Cheers

I turned 30 almost two weeks ago.

After much deliberation, I felt the need to speak on what my mother and new fiancee refer to as a “momentous event in my life.”

This is how I look at it:

To me, turning 30 was like sleeping on a beach in the dead of night, when all of a sudden an enormous ship glides by, as though it were being pushed across a blanket of velvet. You did not hear it, did not see it, but it was gargantuan, not to mention right in front of your face.

Don’t ask me what all this allegory means, just go with it.

Now, some people turn 30 and immediately become wildly depressed. These are the people who stay up all night, dreading the ship’s arrival. Then they break out in tears and whine about how they are still single.

Others turn 30 and could not be happier; they are thrilled to be alive with family and friends. These are the people that stay up awaiting the ship with anticipation, and once it arrives, they hop on and party until completely drunk.

Then there are people like me who could care less about the damn ship. We wake up and go back to work, because that’s what we love to do.

I suppose it is now obvious that I really did not care much about turning 30. That might sound harsh when it comes to the opinions of my mother and fiancee, but they threw me a fantastic party anyway. The point is, it just didn’t make much difference to me that I was turning 30. It could have been 35, 22, or anything else.

To put it another way, what excited me most about turning 30 was seeing the balance in my IRAs. For Christ’s sake, the original impetus for writing this article was a site I read that provided people in their 20s with sound financial advice (http://20somethingfinance.com), not some self-serving desire to justify my place in the world at my new age.

Sure I was a bit perturbed about not yet owning my own home, but that thought was quickly squashed by my oft-ignored desire to live somewhere other than Southern California, which is why I chose to wait in the first place. I was also jolted briefly by the thought that I had yet to publish my novel, but that again was quickly squashed by several cocktails and a reaffirmation that even if I never “make it,” I would still write everyday no matter what.

Take my 21st birthday, for example. I don’t recall even being that excited about turning 21, nor did I get crazy or drink until I threw up on that day. I went out and ordered my first legal drink (paid for by friends) and went home to get some sleep before school and a 10-hour shift for work the next day.

I used to be more excited about birthdays, but in the past few years, they feel more like a slow, oncoming rash to me. It’s not about the fact that I am turning a year older, but more about the fact that I do not want attention paid to me for something as trivial as not dying in the suburbs for the past 365 days.

I have also noticed an increasing lack of desire for gifts from others within the past few years. It is almost as if I just want to eat a great meal, drink some great wine and talk to family and friends. Nothing more, nothing less. No big vacations to Vegas or anywhere else, no big presents, no cards, no anything. Like the man said, “I want what I want and I can’t do anything about it.”

I realize I might sound ungrateful in saying some of these things, but let me be clear : It is not that I don’t appreciate attention paid to me, gifts or anything else; I believe that I am simply…growing simpler.

I see other family members and my friends having outings for their birthdays, going on trips, throwing huge, drunken bashes, but all I want to do is have a bit of fun with good food and good people for a couple of hours and then get back to work.

Obviously this must be caused by my growing older, possibly maturing more as time goes by, and definitely becoming more dull. And yet at the same time, I feel as though this is how I have really felt every year since adulthood; I was just too confused or unable to recognize it cogently enough to speak on it. “Wisdom comes with age,” as the saying goes.

Regardless of the reason, I have to say that, at 30, I am happier than I have ever been in my life. I am comfortable in my own skin and with everything I am doing and working towards. I am confident that I will be able to handle (with grace, I hope), anything life has to throw at me from now on, even the unthinkable.

Most importantly, though, is the UNBELIEVABLE fact that I still have all of my hair, because let me tell you, every male on every side of my family was practically bald by the time they were blowing out 25 candles.