As I warned mentioned on Friday, I was going to be dressing up as Marilyn Monroe on Saturday. Believe it or not, that’s not usually a part of my weekend “to-do” list:
Mow lawn.
Change oil in car.
Give dogs a bath.
Wear high heels and a dress.
However, somehow I got talked into participating in the “Mr. Relay” fundraiser event at our local Relay for Life cancer walk. Given that it was called “Mr. Relay,” I assumed there would be some manliness involved. Maybe some feats of strength. Or a swimsuit competition. Fortunately for me, neither of those were involved because, hey — how embarrassing would THAT be! Haha!
Instead, we were asked to dress as our favorite female movie star or character. Continue reading Who wore it better? (Don’t bother answering that)



I don’t have good-looking legs.
Eight years ago tomorrow, I stood at the altar, watching as my wife crossed the courtyard toward the church. I remember smiling so much my cheeks hurt; I remember the pride and appreciation I felt knowing I was about to be her husband; and I remember a momentary breeze lifting a strand of hair away from her face, like God’s finger gently brushing it aside as she entered the chapel.
Several weeks ago,
Sitting on the edge of the bed this morning, I looked over at my wife’s slowly stirring figure. I watched her stretch beneath the blankets and finish with that little squeal that means it was a good stretch. She yawned, covering her mouth with the back of her hand like she always does. Her eyes focused and she slowly smiled at me.
You may want to stand up before reading this. That’s because, according to a recent study published in the 