The Wife and I were invited out to dinner with friends at a fancy downtown restaurant. Now I know it will come as a shock to many of you that I have friends willing to pay for my dinner, but put your fears at rest. The friends were hers; I just tagged along as her guest.

Blind dates never work out: everyone knows that ... except I know of one that actually did. But that’s the end of the story. The beginning started many, many years ago.

Winning and losing. Sometimes there’s a very fine line between the two. It may not be as newsworthy as the presidential election, who’ll win the next American Idol, or even the plunging stock market, but around our house it’s the biggest thing to happen all year. I won an argument with The Wife, an argument about history, no less.

Dad was really mad this time. He sat all of us down on the snow-covered curb in front of our house at 110 Flamingo Street. We were in big trouble, but I must admit it had been really a cool thing to see.

Men have been hunters and gathers since the dawn of time so it should come as no surprise that around tax time, we find we have gathered way too much stuff.

Some superheroes are born out of necessity; others have heroism thrust upon them. Captain Obvious didn’t arrive from a distant plant, spring forth from the molten core of the earth or cross over from a parallel universe. On New Year’s Eve he was born out of what seemed to be a benign statement made by yours truly: “Honey, you know tomorrow is New Year’s Day.”

If the pen is indeed mightier than the sword, then there should be no problem establishing a new writers’ group in Senoia; at least, that’s what I thought. Starting a writers’ group seems the next logical step on the road to becoming a published author. Who knew that road would be so arduous?

So I like to eat, lie around and not exercise. Is that a crime?

Nope, but my doctor said it’s unhealthy. He told me to get an exercise plan, lose weight and get back into shape.

When The Wife was in third grade, her parents gave her a special birthday present. Usually receiving birthday gifts from your parents isn’t all that unusual, but this gift certainly was. A peel-and-stick puzzle of the United States. Each state had a removable capital and a symbol of the main export. Georgia’s capital is Atlanta, and our symbol is peaches.

My job was to move the rock. I knew it was because that’s what Big Brother James told me to do. At 8 years old, I always did what he said, because big brothers are always right. He never would do or say anything to get his little brothers into trouble. I was so naive back then.

There’re two types of people in the world — those who like real ones and those who like fake ones.

Sure, an argument can be made for fake ones. They’re more symmetrical than natural ones. You can get them as small as you like or so big they hardly fit through the front door.

It finally happened — just in time for the holidays — The Wife’s leaving.

Now I know that’s not a surprise to some of you. How she puts up with yours truly for as long as she has is certainly a modern-day miracle.

Holiday traditions can be hazardous to your health. Trust me; I have the scars to prove it.

Most people get up early the Friday after Turkey Day and go shopping. They choose to fight traffic, fight to get a parking space, and fight other shoppers to get into the store first.

Gas can kill! Trust me. I know. After Twin Brother Mark ate broccoli at dinner, by bedtime he was deadly. When I was young, I thought that was the worst gas one could possibly smell, but as a firefighter, I know that’s not the case.

After reading the title of this article, you might be expecting some thoughtful insight into a happy married life. Perhaps you think that after over six years of writing a weekly newspaper article, somehow I’ve been able to come up with some tidbit of knowledge that maybe you haven’t been able to grasp which will lead to marital bliss. Nope, sorry — I ain’t that good. But read on, it’s still a funny story. And like the other stories I write, it’s all true. Well, most of it anyway.

Let’s face it; the drought is bad, really bad. Lake Lanier will be dry in 71 days, and Lake Altoona before that. What’s a person to do?

Dust off your cobwebs and start digging your bottomless pits. Check to see if the giant black and purple, blow-up yard spider is full of air and ready to go. Hang up skeletons in the trees and make sure they’re rocking ‘cause all the trick-or-treaters in the neighborhood will soon come a-knocking. This year Halloween falls on Wednesday night.

I was sitting down at the computer yesterday, fresh out of ideas for a column, but as faith would have it, the phone rang. On the other end of the line, Big Brother James said, “Hey, I’ve got a great idea.” A cold shiver ran down my spine as I remembered another time he had said those very words.

It’s fall once again in Georgia. Gone are the high temperatures and humidity of the long Dog Days of August and September. They are replaced with cool, romantic moonlit evenings and even cooler mornings.

The ageless man was dark as a soot pot. Bent with time and circumstance, he walked down the abandoned railroad tracks unaware we were watching him. Or so we thought. Passing within three feet of our hiding place deep in the thicket of bushes, he paused for a moment. My three brothers and I had been throwing water balloons at his house all summer. Until now, we had never been caught. Not even close.

It amazes me how life can change in a solitary moment. As a firefighter, I see this, every day at work. One moment we’re training; the next we’re fighting a house fire, performing CPR, or disentangling someone who’s trapped in an automobile. Not one of those people thought their lives would change in such a profound way when their day started, but it did nonetheless.

Every now and then you have to entertain folks at your house or you’ll be labeled a recluse, or worse, a hermit. Last weekend was just such a time.

They say you learn something new everyday. Well, I sure did learn a lot last weekend.

On our recent vacation, I learned quickly that there is a huge difference between a concierge, a butler and how much you should tip each one.

All of my life I’ve been able to eat anything I wanted, anytime I wanted, and as much as I wanted. Well, not any more.

Last week we had a little mishap with the car. Unfortunately, it was an incredibly expensive little mishap, one that caused us to call the insurance company to see if we were covered.

The drill was called Oklahoma; why, I don’t know. It had nothing to do with the wide open spaces; it was just the opposite.

Tim Morowski lived two doors up from Old Mrs. Crabtree at the end of Flamingo Street and was the slowest person I knew. We all called him Slow Moe for short, but he wasn’t dumb.

Triple H days: hot, humid, and hello. At least that’s what Bubba Hanks use to call the sticky days of August. If you understood what he meant by hot, humid, and hello, then you understood Bubba.

Unlike most kids on Flamingo Street, I always looked forward to the first day of school. Okay, so I’m a little odd. But there’s just no other day like it in the entire year. A new school year always means a fresh start, a chance to see old friends, make new ones, and most importantly, a chance that you-know-who would end up in someone’s else’s class besides mine.

Nothing good could come of it, but like moths drawn to a hot porch light on a cool summer night, we just had to look. After all, it’s not everyday we saw an armadillo the size of a football padding his way across Flamingo Street, totally unaware of a freckled-faced boy with bright red hair bearing down on him.