My Dad came out for a visit a few years back, but it’d been over 5 years since he and Mom both spent time with us in California. Chalk it up to those lost Covid years, and the fact that Alexis and I get out to see them once or twice a year, rain or shine. In any case, it was overdue so only felt right to make it count, and I think we did.

We started out with a train ride north, watching the mountains and the Pacific roll by for miles on end until we reached Santa Barbara. We spent a few days here, and most of it was spent soaking in the town’s beauty, it’s history, and its sun. Frankly, a little too much sun. Trust me when I tell you a hat is a bald man’s best friend in the summer. Everything we ate and drank was a home run. From oceanfront dinning to brewery bites, and everything in-between. By our last day, the spell of the town’s charm had us rummaging through Zillow, wondering if we could all just live here instead.

After Santa Barbara, my parents spent a couple days in Laguna Beach without us, so that Alexis and I could briefly get back to our jobs in the salt mines. They had a nice time in Laguna, and once they got back, we spent the rest of our days together exploring the never ending offerings of Los Angeles. And I really mean never ending.

There was Mom using chopsticks for the first time. Brunch and donuts at The Grove. A trip to the Academy Museum for a closer look at details from some of Mom and Dad’s favorites, like The Wizard of Oz and Casablanca. Tacos at Trejo’s. A tour of Alexis’ work for a glimpse at some post-production magic. Dinner at Rao’s, where the one and only, Jonny Roastbeef, gave us an authentic New York welcome in LA. Alexis introduced my parents to one of her favorite movies, How To Lose A Guy in 10 Days, and we witnessed the miracle of my Dad staying awake through all of it, suggesting he might’ve actually liked it.

We walked the Venice canals to marvel at homes as diverse as the blooming flowers all around us. There was rooftop tapas and margaritas in Century City. A 50th anniversary screening of Jaws downtown, and the wild fact that Dad saw it originally in theaters 50 years back, and hadn’t since been to a movie in half that amount of time. We clinked glasses at the highest open-air bar west of the Mississippi, perched on top of LA’s tallest building. Probably forgetting some things, but in any case, you get the picture. We made it count.

This was the first trip my Mom and Dad have taken together since they’ve both been retired. My parents are as hard working as people come. It’s how I’ve always known them. Never putting themselves first. Always leaning much further in the direction of doing the things they had to do, rather than the things they might’ve wanted to. It brings me so much happiness to see them both retired now, enjoying the shade of trees they’ve planted long ago. It couldn’t be more earned and I couldn’t be more excited for this new and long chapter of life for them. I have a feeling it’s gonna be a great one.
































One of my best buds Drew E. Cohen, turned 40 in October and over twenty of us from all corners of the country descended upon Indio, California to help the man celebrate.

We swam, dined, karaoked, Halloweened, baby showered, competed in Beer Olympics, and raised our glasses to a guy who’s been asked to be a best man more times than anyone I’ve ever met.

Everyone came together and contributed in their own way to make it not just a memorable weekend the man of the hour, but for us all. Truly, one for the books.

I was glad to have contributed some of my finest artist works to date for the celebration, in the form of a book cover, a cake design of biblical proportions, and Beer Olympics team bandanas. A true career high for me.








Lastly, Kelsie wrangled everyone to contribute a fun memory or well wish for a book she put together for him. Figure I’d share my contribution here, becasue I meant every word, and the truth is worth preserving:

Forty… My god, I’m so, so sorry bud. We go back a long ways now, since 2009 I think. That said, it shouldn’t be too hard for me to pick one of our memories to share here, certainly a lot to choose from. But If I’m being honest, with so many favorites, it’s not easy picking just one.

Should it be the first memory I have of you? The time you became if only for a moment, my one true lord and savior, when you literally freed me from a locked parking garage I’d been trapped in for hours on end in the dead of night. You always knew how to make a first impression.

How about the countless shows we’ve been to, where on more than a few occasions people had to tell us to shut the hell up, because no matter how desperately we wanted to see a band, it seemed to sometimes pale in comparison to how much more fun it was to just shoot the breeze and catch up. And on the topic of shows, I have to mention the time that like a modern day Moses you parted a sea of moshing kids at the Troubadour to pick up my fallen glasses for me.

Maybe it’s traveling our country together, 18 states by my count. In nearly all instances, promising ourselves we’d turn in at the hotel at a decent hour for some rest so we wouldn’t spoil our trip, but sure as the Sun shines, we’d always break that promise. Whether the lethal blow was staying out till some ungodly hour, or was actually making it back to the room as intended, but fatally talking hours on end like two kids on a weekend sleepover. Sometimes a combination of both.

We’ve done our fair share of globe trotting outside our borders too. The first time I ever used my passport was of course, with you in Peru. Something I consider to be one of the greatest experiences of my life, and in hindsight, an adventure we were either too young or too hungover to realize just how dangerous it was at times. Then there was “No Rules” in Spain. Watching snow fall while we floated in warm waters in Japan. Cramming into a flat bed truck in Thailand so the locals could pelt us with water balloons for the New Year. Chasing whale sharks and mantas in the Maldives, and exploring a tiny deserted island in the middle of the Indian Ocean. Aimlessly wandering the streets of Hong Kong, and after several hours of day drinking, declaring through an inebriated lens of optimism that we both “could totally see living here.”

Maybe it’s one of the smaller or more ridiculous memories. Watching you simultaneously hail three taxis out of thin air, when the rest of us couldn’t catch one for hours. The copy of Atlas Shrugged that mysteriously arrived on my doorstep. Crushing homemade beer towers in your front lawn like degenerates. You bringing a couch to my “Bring Your Own Chair” party in my empty apartment, and months later, you single handedly carrying that couch out of my apartment after I told you I couldn’t move it by myself. Thinking a shortcut on foot through Skid Row in broad daylight wouldn’t be that scary. Me having the best view in all of Coachella, sitting on your shoulders over 10 feet off the ground. Slayer almost ending my life. Our countless “Piano Man” karaoke duets (If Hell is real, it’s us rewatching those performances for eternity). And of course I can’t forget you helping orchestrate what seemed like all of Dodger Stadium to chant “Let’s go Kyle LET’S GO!”

Maybe my favorite memory of ours is one of the more predictable standouts. Standing up with you on your wedding day and having you stand up with me at mine. Or maybe it’s meeting Della and holding her for the first time.

I think you see the conundrum now. Can’t pick just one. There’s too many memories. I will say after all these years though, what I’m most thankful to you for, is just how far you’re willing to lean in, especially when my nature is to lean out and go it alone. You could’ve stopped inviting me out well before trying for the second, third, fourth, or fifth time that I dodged you. But unlike July 11th at Buca Di Beppo, you didn’t quit, and I’m a lot better off for it.

Yes you’re getting older, but just remember, we may be dying, but we’re not dead yet. Happy 40 my friend.



One scheduled flight at 10pm but cancelled at 3am later, we made it to Sacramento! The Duncans hosted a reunion of sorts at their new home. Was great seeing old friends, as well as meeting some of my brand new ones for the very first time. Lot of highlights, but one I was really excited for, was Drew, Duncan, and myself wearing the exact same shirt by happenstance. It’s always the best.

Boats, booze and babies. It was an awesome day with good friends on the Pacific to celebrate Kelsie’s birthday. We saw so many dolphins that I started to wonder if there was concern for them overtaking and commandeering our boat. It was really that many.























Headed up to Big Bear for a long weekend getaway with the Boggs’. We did some light hiking, set a few smoke detectors off cooking, some hot tubbing, some card playing, some star gazing, and gathered around some candles and a fireplace wondering when the power would come back on. We also taught the kids how to play Roulette, for better or for worse. Spencer and Nikki, please, please don’t grow up to be degenerate gamblers. The house always wins.















It was a good day exploring the Venice canals. She swears she’s smiling under there.

We headed up to the San Bernardino Mountains and rented a place for a few days around Lake Arrowhead to celebrate Alexis’ 33rd birthday with our friends and quarantine companions, Mike and Christina. I have no doubt if we weren’t in pandemic times we would’ve packed somewhere in the neighborhood of 30+ friends into some Mid-City bar to sing happy birthday to Alexis. We made out just as well though with only the 4 of us up on the mountain, even if my singing voice is a little off key.

We cooked, drank, gambled, embroidered, watched logs on the fire, and got plenty of sleep. It was one hell of a mid-thirties bender if I’d ever seen one. Think we could all say it was a much needed change of pace and scenery, and most importantly exactly what I think Alexis was looking for. I don’t like that we’re getting older, but I can’t complain about collecting memories like these.


















We sipped drinks and floated around the pool all day. Shuffled along the dirt roads and lazily chased the sinking sun. Once the sunset painted the desert pink, it was time to pour another drink and fire up the grill. It was a lazy 3-day getaway in Yucca Valley.

Married three years, together almost nine. This is how we celebrated. Just like this desert climate, our time together has seen extreme highs and extreme lows, and time is the only thing that ever balances it all out.



















I’ve been at home for over three weeks, and Alexis for a little over two. We took a drive through the hills for a much needed change of scenery.









Mom and Dad take Los Angeles by storm






















Forever young, I want to be, forever young.

Jenn and Duncan have been inviting us up to Sacramento to float down the American River with them pretty much every year they’ve been up there. We’ve missed a few, but this was the third time for Alexis and I. We love it. It’s brings close friends who live far apart, together again. There were 16 of us this year. 17 counting a baby girl on the way from Jenn and Duncan.

Have this feeling that this time might be one of the last of this scale. Things are changing. Priorities are changing. Life isn’t slowing down. So I brought the camera.

Even though these memories are just a few days old, and their pictures are still perfectly sharp and clear in my mind, can’t help but smile watching the footage. Have to imagine that feeling only amplifies with time. It’s not the most fun being the guy carrying the camera around everywhere, and I’m sure it’s not fun having it pointed in your face the whole time either. Seems important though.

If there’s anything we’ve all learned this time around, it’s when you’re on the river, bring a damn knife. Life jackets couldn’t hurt either. For all the worried mothers out there, we’ll just leave it at that.

Crazy to think it’s been eight months already since I married my best friend. We’ve been holding off on sharing the whole thing until we had all our photos and footage back from our photographer, and till we could organize it all in one big post online. Something we can look back on the rest of our lives. No matter what social platforms rise and fall through the years, or how blurred our memories might get the more we collect, this will always be safe here. For the rest of our days, and the days there after. This took way, way longer than we wanted it to, for a couple reasons, but my God, it’s finally done! The wait has nearly driven my parents to the brink of insanity. If it’s worth doing, it’s worth doing right, right?

A wedding is only a day, but there’s so much that goes on behind the scenes leading up to it. It’s a long windy road made of equal parts, fun, love, and absolute chaos. Guess the best place to kick this off is where we started ourselves. For us, after our engagement, it was venues. We looked at a few, all within an hour of Los Angeles. Some good, some bad, and some ugly. We planned to see a couple more in Palm Springs, but the last one got us. A little place called Quail Ranch. A family owned and worked avocado ranch, hidden on a hilltop in Simi Valley. How Californian of us. We knew this was our one before we even finished walking the grounds. Spoiler alert, there were no quails.

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Probably the best workday I’ve ever had. All thanks to this guy, Captain Nate.





Christina turns 30, and we add another member to the club.

We did it. We’re married! Don’t want to say too much right now, going to save the whole story for when we get all our pictures back from our photographer and do it right. Just wanted to share this one.

To think I’d ever be able to share such an image in this place, with the exact person I always wanted to end up with, just blows my mind. Don’t think many people really understand how far back it all goes but here’s a glimpse. Really, I am the luckiest person I know.

That’s it for now, more to come.

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