Hello again. It’s that wonderful time of the year when Michelle lets me compute her taxes for her, when it’s so EZ to do the federal that it’s over in minutes, when the state makes it damn near impossible to figure out how the fuck to do it without a degree in reading tax-code gibberish so you end up just doing whatever the hell you feel like and hoping it’s right, when I really wonder what Michelle is thinking letting me do her taxes because I can’t even keep my checkbook straight (true story: a few months ago I was convinced the bank was screwing me out of money because my checkbook was almost $100 off – until Michelle went through it and found all the places I’d screwed up), when my checkbook is once again out of whack – in other words, Michelle, how would you like to be audited?

Hello again. It’s that wonderful time of the year when I’ve gotten over the shock of its sudden and unexpected end, when I’ve moved passed the no-No-NO of denial, when I’ve worked through the heart-stabbing pain and fist-clenching anger, when I’ve finally picked myself up, brushed myself off and, as hard as it has been, gotten on with my life because I know that’s what you’re supposed to do during a time of gut-wrenching crisis – in other words, I can finally accept that Brad and Jennifer are through.

Hello again. It’s that wonderful time of the year when Michelle is gone again, back to the Midwest for family and school, when doing the bachelor thing means I drank an ungodly amount of beer during the three-day New Year’s weekend, when I discovered conclusively that Busch Light is no way near as potent as Rainier Ice (5.6 percent alcohol by volume. Yes!), when I learned the hard way that trying to balance on my knees on the exercise ball Michelle got me for Christmas after drinking Rainier Ice is NOT a good idea – in other words, Do you think this needs stitches?

Hello again. It’s that wonderful time of the year when conspicuous consumerism is in overdrive, when maxing out credit cards is the national pastime, when running up that revolving debt is how you say I love you, when the jewelry companies push push push their crap almost as intensely as they do around Valentine’s Day, when just entering a mall to go shopping makes my head ache like I’ve got a big, throbbing tumor (it's not a tuma) – in other words, Where the hell’s the bar?

Hello again. It’s that wonderful time of the year when the colder temperatures outside cause my nose to run, when said running means that I blow and wipe my nose a lot (especially when that one little drop travels down to the tip of your nostril, just bugging the shit out of you there, maddening because you can’t snuffle it back up and it won’t just drop off by itself), when said wiping means that my nose gets red and sore, when little traces of dried snot get caught in my mustache so that I’m constantly scratching at it to get that crap out of there – in other words, Honey, does Land O’ Lakes have a plant in San Diego?

Hello again. It’s that wonderful time of the millennium when Mount St. Helens begins to rumble again, when geologists and vulcanologists and seismologist – and, hell, maybe even proctologists, for all I know – swarm the mountain like New York lawyers on a fender-bender, when I’m waiting for some company to sponsor reports on the possible eruption (“This Mount St. Helens update is brought to you by Valium. When you’re ready to blow your top, relax, take a Valium. It’ll calm you right the fuck on down.”), when little earthquakes in the crater are going off by the thousands, when Helen spouts off every so often so that we can see the gas and ash and whatever the hell it is leaking from the crater, when the scientists poking around on the mountain have absolutely no idea what will happen next – in other words, Are we stocked up on provisions, Ma?

Hello again. It’s that wonderful time of the year when I should have kept my big mouth (or e-mail) shut, when as soon as I write something about the Chiefs, they choke it off against the hated Broncos, when as soon as I mention anything about the Tigers, they lose to Troy (not State) University, when as soon as I mention when the World Series starts, the Cardinals loose three straight series, when I’m as bad as a stupid TV sports announcer acting like every time they mention something and then the opposite happens they think they’ve jinxed someone and MADE it happen – in other words, it’s time to shut up now.

Hello again. It’s that wonderful time of the year when the best pro sports season is about to begin, when the NFL is getting through it’s stupid preseason games that no one watches and no one cares about before the real thing starts, when you start making a mental list of how many games the Chiefs can win this season (shit, I think they can go 15-1, don’t you?), when you pen (not pencil) in two victories against the hated Raiders and at least one against the vile Broncos, when you hope the K.C. defense can at least slow somebody (Peyton Manning, anyone?) down, when the only goal that matters is winning the Vince Lombardi trophy or the season is a total failure – in other words, Hell, I’m setting myself up for a fall. Again. (But at least I won’t cry like Michelle did when the Raiders choked it off against the Buccaneers.)

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(Mostly) on location in San Francisco

Hello again. It’s that wonderful time of the year when the Cardinals are 10 games ahead of the floundering Cubs, when St. Louis swept the final two games at Wrigley Field (the second one from waaaayyy behind), when the Cards’ pitching has been much better than mediocre, when the offense can bail out the pitching when it sucks, when I’m hoping for the best but expecting the worst, when I’m waiting for Tony La Russa to do something stupid so I can start hating him again, when I’m watching for the other shoe to drop as the Cardinals implode – in other words, Can we fast-forward to the end of the season please?

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Hello again. It’s that wonderful time of the year when we missed out on the big Megamillions $280 million jackpot, when we wasted at least $30 on tickets once it got to my $100 million threshold for buying, when I had already made plans for us to head to Hawaii from San Francisco and wait for our passports to arrive before setting off on global adventure in Italy, Ireland and Australia for starters, when I envisioned a life of leisure and luxury – in other words, my daydreams were shot to hell once again.