“There are moments, Jeeves, when one asks oneself, 'Do trousers matter?'" "The mood will pass, sir.” ― P.G. Wodehouse, The Code of the Woosters My dearest cousin asked me to write a post for “Odd,” and I asked her to give me a topic. She said, “fashion”. Now, most of you don’t know me, but … Continue reading One Size Fits All – Fashion Advice from Cousin Craig
I’ve always thought of myself as a self-aware man, or at least a self-critical one, and I realized the other day that I’m in danger of becoming cynical. As we leave summer behind and move into the fall, a time when we return to more routine and structure in our lives (does the feeling of … Continue reading Be Nice! Save a Seal!
The Olympics have the unique power to make people care about things they would never think about at any other time. If someone walked up to you and said, “I can do three backflips on a beam three inches wide,” you might respond with, “That’s great, Susie. Can I have an order of fries with … Continue reading The Olympics Are Odd
(Cousin Craig is back...) Dear Cole’s Mom (AKA—Katybeth), I don't know how odd this is, or if it's even noteworthy. But ever since I can remember, my brother and sister have been trying to kill each other. I have been hurt by both, of course, but I've always felt like either a training ground … Continue reading Sibling Horror Stories
Disclaimer: I love Cousin Craig. I invited him to write for Odd. I think he is funny (both ha ha and you know… funny,) but I take no responsibility for what he writes. None. His words and thoughts are all his. I am the odd but nice one. # My Odd Family – Dilemma … Continue reading Everyone Poops – But Where?
This is not Craig Please welcome my Cousin Craig back to Odd. He enjoys the family gene of never letting the truth get in the way of a story. It is one of my favorite things about him. Really! # My wonderful cousin invited me to write something for her My Odd Family blog. She … Continue reading Ice Skating Terrorist
My mother eschews all family traditions. We never had a family tradition for long, before she would banish it. There was, however, the Christmas box. Each year we would go to sleep, eager for the morning to come. We'd race into the living room and wait impatiently for my mostly asleep parents, and then tear into the gifts. We weren't looking at the gifts, so much as the boxes