Author: Backpacking Dad

I spent my birthday being suburban. I woke up, drove my Camry to drop my wife at work in her office building, and then went to breakfast at IHOP where I sat Erin in a plastic high chair and watched her stain her dress with blueberries that had probably never seen a shady forest. We…

In one hour, I will be a thirty-one year old: father, husband, son, brother, philosopher, blogger, hockey fan, and list maker.

Whoa! Does it say "asshole" in the title of this post? Yes. I realize that I don’t swear on this blog (maybe I have on occasion and I just don’t remember at the moment). And that probably most of the bloggers I read use "fuckshitwadmotherfuckingbitchslutcocktits", or other words with similar effect, with regularity and great…