Cristi: “Would you please stop being weird. It was a really long day and I’m just not in the mood for weird.”

The customized Dairy Queen cake was an annual tradition for each one of us. With a picture drawn in frosting on top, there was an old car for me, a sport’s theme for Kelly and a musical instrument for Casey. The cake was usually the center of the event—the subject of discussion and lots of bad snapshots that would eventually wind up forgotten in a drawer somewhere.

I attended my nephew’s second birthday on Sunday. There was the usual pleasant gathering of family. Some coffee and tea. And then the cake was unveiled. Kids went nuts. Adults with high cholesterol disregarded their doctor’s orders. Teeth and tongues were stained with food coloring and everyone was happy. My sister-in-law made one hell of cake. A cake to keep the tradition going. Most important, a cake that presented a photo opportunity.

Cristi: “Wow. You’ve already had time to get weird.”

Within the last couple of weeks, three people casually mentioned that I’m an “old soul.” I’ve heard this repeatedly since I was about 16, so I’ve finally decided to embrace it. And create a little junk art to confirm the declaration.

You’re welcome to join my club if you like. We’ll start the day at 5:30 AM sharp with two cups of black coffee. After that, we’ll focus on conquering chores and checklists. First item on the agenda? Walk the tremendously old dog. With that, I’m signing off for the day. Over. Out. And old. At least in spirit.

- Ricky Gervais

Concerned that a lack of interest in eating could indicate a lack of interest in living, we’ve started her on a diet filled with kibble and temptation. Each morning I mix up a batch of ingredients that would make a more sensitive person cringe. Often there’s a bed of rice. Then a layer of day-old bread. Sometimes we add chicken stock. Other days we’ll re-purpose hamburger fat. Most important, we almost always add a few lumps of canned pumpkin to top everything off.

I’m happy to report here on this Friday the 13th that Jez was delighted with today’s goulash. While there’s no way to know what the future holds, you can be fairly certain that her bowl will be filled with something disgusting first thing tomorrow morning.

Happy Friday. May your bowl be filled with all your favorite things.

Our first flakes of the year. I love late night dog walks in crappy weather.

I’ve been spending some time working on what I like to call “junk art.” All that’s required is some paper, a pen and a couple of jagged pieces of wood. Oh, and an idea of some sort.

The idea behind this example? It was Cristi’s birthday, New Year’s Day and our seventh anniversary all in one. And I was broke. So, rather than racking up more credit card debt, I spent an hour or so in the basement making her a splintery plaque to commemorate the occasion. Not only was the gift well received, the statement was timely as we had just recently watched a somewhat interesting documentary on the rise and fall of the Rent is Too Damn High Party.