Why

I wrote an entire song called that, if you can believe that. The tagline was "Why, why, why, why, why? The way I'm feeling, am I high?" Talk about overstaying your welcome (or the Facebook experience, take your pick).

But why do things happen in tens, all at the same time? Why does Brigitte's mother have to have a fall in her apartment at age 87? Today? At five a.m.? Why does my ex-wife explain to me that my 8-year-old son possibly has asthma? Today? All the fuck the way from Japan?

Let me tell you, I haven't even gotten through the tens. But there always seems to be something good, even in tiny, dark, annoying places. Brigitte made the most fantastic broccoli soup last night -- it always reminds me, at these times, why I married her in the first place and why I'll remain married to her until my dying breath -- so I guess you have to take the good with the bad. Sorry, let me rephrase that -- the best of the bestest!

How the fuck did she make a miracle out of broccoli soup? She called me from the road, for fuck's sake, to ask "How do I make broccoli soup?" I said "Get 35% cream. That's how you make broccoli soup." And goddamned if that's not how you make broccoli soup.