Archive for January, 2013


My wife slept in unusually late this morning, and when the need to go and inquire about her wellbeing overtook my longing to finish the morning’s dishes, I found her sitting, eyes still full of sleep wearing a smile upon her face. My daughter was laying beside her, so logically, I thought I was bearing witness to a mother’s bliss as she beheld the beautiful visage of tiny fingers and toes, and cooing and drool.

Still smiling, Whitney looked at me. For a moment, I thought that she was not merely enamored with that little baby, but also with me. I am worth enamoring over. Years of bliss must have been rushing through her mind flashing vivid images of the happiness I have given her. Like a dam swelling from the weight of the water seeking freedom from restraint, my soul was succumbing to growing tides of joy knowing the life I had given Whitney was fulfilling her needs. All was right in the world.

I walked softly toward her. Her smile grew with each step. In my head, I thought, “I am the freaking man!” This woman. This single woman thought I was the only man in the world. To her, I was the center of the universe, a sun whose gravitational pull provided the order to her world she needed to survive. Arriving bedside, I lovingly rambled, “look at you, happy girl!” In response, Whitney smiled the coy grin of a teenager half her age who just got passed a note from a boy in class. When Whitney is really smiling, I mean smiling the kind of genuine smile that derives itself from sincere joy, her eyes bend upwards, hinging from the inner and ever so gently form a beautiful slant. She wore that kind of smile as she said the following words:

Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson came to me last night. Oh, my lord Jesus, he was loving him some Whitney, and we weren’t getting it on either. Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson was courting me. You see, Heath, I need to be courted. I need to be courted again by you. He said, ‘Girl, I don’t know up from down when I’m with you!’ And then, the best part, we played baseball together…It. Was. Awesome. I need to be courted like that.

There is something to be learned in all of this. Firstly, Whitney is an odd girl to court. Baseball and cliches? I can do that. And secondly, I need to look like Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson to give Whitney all that bullshit happiness I described above at such length. Actually, I guess there is a third and most important lesson: The Rock is not welcome in my home starting today.

I got some baseball to play, I’m out.

I just wanted you to know, because I’ve been holding it in for years…


Firstly, I dedicate this blog to Barry, he is a good man who shamelessly admits that he reads my blog. He lives in the northwest with a wonderful lady, Brittany. Together, these two love puppies and promote the idea that all puppies are created equal and that all puppies are inclined to do good things; it is just their owners, who being less than dignified, nurture the darker qualities of aggression in animals. This is not their only good point I swear to you, but people who love animals, are almost always good people…it is what it is.

Let me begin by saying my caveman conversion is going well. The fact is, it is fun and the food is pretty damned good. During week two and three, I had this period of three days where I wanted to kill people at random. This is the delirium tremens from taking away processed food. The good news: nobody was killed, but I did lose my temper twice at work over things that a normal Heath would have only lost his imaginary temper.

My imaginary temper is what I can only describe as an escalation of force mechanism internal to the vast catacombs of my brain that allows me an in-between, a purgatory where I don’t have to operate at berserker levels, or a constant state of hyper emotionalism (hulk-smash). You see, I get wound up and I talk with my hands. It has its goods; people never have to guess what I am thinking, and generally, if you don’t have to guess what one is thinking then nobody ends up disappointed or surprised. I am sure it has bads as well, but I refuse to discuss bads when talking about my attributes…it just brings me down, ya know. My imaginary temper has ensured for years I have not been beaten to death by somebody around me, and I guess to a certain extent, it has protected those around me from me. In my head, in the same exciting place where all of my imaginary fights occur, 90 percent of what I want to say to people is filtered out and sent to a garbage bin located in one of the cortexes of my mind to be used in a blog later on.

At any rate, I lost my temper, but it was more like an unwinding where I just kind of disintegrate over something that would make anyone mad—I just do it like I am in a play. It is very dramatic and possesses some of the same qualities of interpretive dance, which I will have you know frustrates me. Interpretive dance is too whimsical and uncontrolled, lacking in structure. People doing interpretive dance should never admit they messed up, because even their mess-ups look like a move that someone, somewhere can describe as brilliant—the same way that abstract art by renowned artists, worth gillions, looks a lot like something I drew 15 years ago that my dad said sucked.

At any rate again, there were two distinct moments where I wanted frozen yogurt. I didn’t want frozen yogurt because it is a healthier version of soft serve ice cream either. I wanted frozen yogurt that I turned into a collage of all my favorite chocolate and peanut butter candy plastered to frozen yogurt backdrop by hot fudge. I wanted it to be a “pay-by-the-ounce” place, and I wanted three pounds. Again, these longings are the delirium tremens—the pangs of addiction to sugar. Delicious refined sugar. I prevailed, but it had more to do with the fact that my longing for frozen yogurt was only out dueled by my laziness. I knew my laziness would come in handy.

Whitney is also doing well. She continues the hunt for new recipes, and neither she nor I have brought any processed food into this house. I like it. I like not eating the stuff. She made Paleo Bread, which we devoured with happy hearts. For our snack this week, she concocted an Almond milk chocolate shake with 25 grams of protein. Are you picking up what I am putting down here? I like the food, and that is essential to lifestyle change. I must admit that Whitney has been an extremely active sleeper since going paleo, but I am reluctant to reduce this to a result of the lifestyle when it is probably just further evidence that one day, she will kill me in my sleep, while she herself is sleeping, and that said killing will be violent and terrible. This is Whitney, she kills while she sleeps.

Insert perfect segue to another subject here.

I am reading a novel now. I have started reading for pleasure again. I recommend everyone reading this start reading for pleasure again unless that means you stop reading my blog, and seriously, if you cannot get pleasure from my blog, why were you reading it anyway—that’s kind of weird. The novel is The Satanic Verses by Salman Rushdie. It is a terrifically written novel so far and fun to read, but you need to read some form of study guide with it to help you get all there is to get about everything this guy is saying. I am pretty sure that sects of Islamic people want to kill Rushdie for this work, so this only adds to the fun.

The second novel I am reading is written by my sister, S. E. Culpepper. For years, my sister seemed only placed on this earth to tell on me for things I did as a teenager. Hers was a police presence, but with time and work, she has transformed into the perfect heathen. She is extremely talented and has just released her latest book in the Liaisons Series. A quick disclaimer on her novel. If you are scared that you can somehow “osmotically turn gay” by reading a novel about characters who are gay, or if you feel like your soul will immediately burst into flames if it you read a book with gay characters, or if you are hoping that by ignoring the idea of gay people they will cease to exist, then this book is probably not for you. But, I am telling you, she is my sister, and she is a writer worth reading.

This is what is happening with me.

I just wanted you to know, because I have been holding it in for years.