My initial goal was to post at least two blog entries every week, but as you might have noticed I haven’t quite met my quota this month. Hopefully I’ll have a bit more time on my hands in the coming weeks to start getting into a better rhythm with all of this stuff. For now, another Week in Review:

The World’s Week:

The Wisconsin Union Issue

Every time that a hot button political issue like this pops up, conservatives and liberals all around the country begin a race to see who can make the most ignorant and outrageous accusations about each other. The particular issue of the day doesn’t matter; it’s “us vs. them” and they are always wrong (and evil!!!).

After 200,000 years of human progress the majority of people in our society still feel the urge to join tribes and chuck spears at each other. The only difference is that instead of spears, the unwashed masses in modern times attack using blog posts and tweets.

When I finish inventing my machine that enables people to literally stab each other in the face over the internet, I’m going to make a fortune.

Egypt etc.

Part of me feels like I ought to at least bring this issue up, but I’d rather not subject my readership to yet another blogger’s inane thoughts on the uprisings in the Middle East… especially when I could use the page space for this instead:

My Week:

Indoor Lacrosse

Perfect for bashing in heads!

Last weekend I  went to an indoor Lacrosse game with the Mallahan clan (my aunts/uncles/cousins). Having never seen a game before I was skeptical about the sport, but someone told me that Hipsters hate Lacrosse so I naturally decided to give it a chance.

Picture hockey only more brutal; half of the game consists of the players intentionally wacking each other in the face with their stick things as they run up and down the field. I’m not typically a huge sports fan, but I was sucked in by the fast paced nature of the game and I had a lot of fun.

The bad news is that on the night we went to the game Washington lost to a Canadian team. The good news is that they’re all still Canadian, and we’re not.

Seven Mile Walk

Wanting to take advantage of the fact that we’re no longer living in the 10th Circle of Hell, my wife and I have decided to start exploring the large variety of beautiful walking trails that the Pacific Northwest has to offer. Last weekend we had the bright idea to start our adventures by taking seven mile walk with a friend of ours. After you’ve been couped up indoors all winter long, walking seven miles is essentially a hate crime against the lower half of your body. If someone had been there at mile six to arrest me and carry me away, I certainly wouldn’t have objected.

For as much pain as I was in after the walk, I felt surprisingly good the next day. I’m apparently in better shape than I expected – I now have an excuse to eat more cake.

A few months ago my wife Becca and I renewed our Costco membership and went on a shopping spree. When you’re at Costco you lose not only your sense of scale, but your sense of right and wrong. I’ll be the first to admit that a 10 pound bag of Krusteaz pancake mix really has no business existing in the first place… but we bought one anyway. Enter the monstrosity you see pictured here to the right.

Flash forward three weeks later and Becca suddenly declares that she hates Krusteaz pancakes. We hadn’t gone and gorged ourselves on pancakes, so it wasn’t like she was just temporarily sick of them. Oh no, it was much worse than that – she just up and decided that she could no longer eat pancakes made using Krusteaz mix ever again.

To put this madness in perspective: I’ve been buying the small boxes of Krusteaz mix from the grocery store since before Becca and I even met. She’s been eating these pancakes for the past seven years – AMPLE TIME to decide that she didn’t like them before we bought a bag of the mix large enough to feed a small African village for a month. It was already ludicrous to buy that bag to feed just two people, and I don’t think that I can fly this mission solo.

I’m scared.

I could try to give some of the pancake mix away, but I don’t think that dropping off ziplock bags full of white powder at my local food bank is going to go over too well. Instead, my current plan is to dump half the bag on Becca while she’s taking a shower (the beauty of this mix is that you only have to add water), and then to slowly consume the other half by myself over the course of the next 19 months.

That’s right, the “use by” date printed on the bag is September 2012. Becca and I could theoretically conceive a child, give birth to it, and teach it to say the word “pancake” in the time it will take for this mix to expire. If I have to eat all of these pancakes alone, however, I’ll be expiring long before then.