The love for my children is infinite. It knows no bounds.

I know. Vomit.

I've never found the limits of my love for them... but I can see the edge from here.

It started like this, "Dad, can I go to the movies with Tyson?"

"You mean with Tyson and his parents?"

"Well..."

Donna has had a pretty rough week, in a grumpier-that-the-people-around-her-care-to-talk-about kind of way. For some reason or another she seems to have been not quite herself. She's been barking at the kids and refusing any kind of attempts to help her cheer up.

Then today, after Twitter dumped a whole bunch of messages from her tweets, I got this desperate text message...

...read the rest...

My dearest wife, best friend and lover,

Almost a year ago I began writing privately on this blog. I wrote, and have written almost every day since, honest and revealing details about our lives, my feelings and my experiences. Some of the things I write are painful and angry. Others are light and humorous. An examination of my writing here will reveal a cross-section of the highs and lows of our lives as well as some experiences from my youth.

In order to protect you, our family and our privacy, I invented an online persona, an alter-ego. Pete Dunn is my online voice. Through Pete I have found expression and creativity. Pete has taught me about myself and our relationship.

From outside the stall I heard the clickity-clack of a cell phone being dialed and a voice approaching the stall next to mine.

"Hello... is Nichole there?"

There was a short wait as the caller entered the stall and closed the door behind him.

More from the "I can't believe I'm letting you read this" file...

April 5, 1990 - 11:36 PM

Drawn in pen. I must have really meant it.

That's Lisa Mangum dropping my ass out of an airplane!

...read the rest...

My beer, like much of my life, lacks fizz.

I was eager to get the my first bottle of homemade beer open last night. As the cap clanked to the counter, the bottle stood there silently. As I poured the cold beer into the glass there was no head. No suds. Oh, there were a few bubbles but the stuff was nowhere near fully carbonated.

I was let down a bit. The beer still in the bottles will likely be just fine in a week or so but still... I was really looking forward to the experience being perfect.

Yesterday I predicted the possibility that sex may not be exactly, umm, coming soon.

Ah, the great prognosticator, I.

The evening went generally well. And, despite what you probably think, Donna loved the pneumatic stapler/nailer I gave her. Seriously. I wrapped it in a collage of photos I printed on the oversized printer at the office. A gift like that says, "I cherish the memories we've had together" and "Please build something from this load of lumber I have... in my pants." Control yourselves, ladies, I'm off the market.

You know what makes Valiumtimes Day cool? That Donna would rather have a pneumatic nailer/stapler than chocolates.

I know. Hot.

What girl doesn't love a good air tool?

Sometime in the summer of 2003, Donna and I decided our marriage was irreparable. We had been separated for a few months and I had been attending regular therapy sessions. We both wanted to make it work but it seemed that we were simply too far apart and that there was too much pain between us to ever reconcile.

We brought the kids together at my mother's house, where I had been living during most of our separation, one evening.

"Girls, this is hard to explain but Mommy and I have decided it would be the best thing for our family if we divorced. Of course, I will always be your Daddy and Mommy will always be your Mommy. Nothing can change that, we love you too much for that to change."