Twenty-five years. a quarter-century of proving that "forever" isn't a fairy tale—it's a choice you make every single morning.
To those who literally bet against us making it a year: thank you for the motivation. Here we are, 25 years later, still in love, still together, and still doing this entirely our own way. We’ve navigated the struggles, celebrated the triumphs, and raised two incredible, grown children who are the heartbeat of our home.
What I’ve learned over these two and a half decades is that my level of commitment isn't a finite resource; it’s a foundation. When I show up, I show up for the long haul. The history I have with Tracy is the proof of that—a testament that the future we are building is solid, inclusive, and growing more beautiful every day.
Our life is big enough to hold all the people who matter most—our children, our extended family that makes us whole, and the friends who never wavered. We hills you all dear and close to our hearts. We aren't just surviving; we are thriving and growing more in love with every passing year.
Here’s to the last 25 years of breaking the mold, and to the lifetime of future chapters we still have left to write together.
I love you, Tracy. Happy Anniversary.
Twenty-five years. We’ve seen life change in every way possible, but Mark was always there.
Losing Mark feels like losing a part of my own story. He was a master of his craft, a brilliant musician, and a soul who gave so much to the industrial community he helped grow. But beyond sharing many a stage with him over the years, he was my friend.
Mark didn’t just play music; he helped build this community for so many of us to find our voices. He was a constant—a steady hand and a brilliant mind in a scene he loved with everything he had. To lose him is to lose a piece of our history.
The silence he leaves behind is heavy, but I’m choosing to remember the echoes of everything he created and the decades of memories we shared. I hope you’ve found the peace you were looking for, Mark. You were loved more than you knew."
If you knew Edminister Engler you knew two things: he was going to drop a track that blew your mind, and he was going to make you laugh until your sides hurt.
He fought his battle with cancer with incredible strength, and today he’s finally at peace. Dallas lost a piece of its soul today, and the Twitch community lost one of its brightest lights.
Heaven just got a lot louder and a whole lot funnier. Spin ‘em loud up there, man. We love you.
Well, dear readers, our intrepid (and perhaps masochistic) explorers ventured forth yestereve into frosty SLC. We braved the icy maw of downtown and the sheer, straining humanity surrounding Temple Square, which appeared determined to press the boundaries of the Geneva Convention.
But fret not, for the true mission was not the procurement of goods, but the quiet, utterly insane pursuit of quality time. This is, after all, our First Christmas—a monumental event requiring we endure the worst of the season for a few fleeting moments of hand-holding amidst the fray.
Ultimately, we descended upon City Creek—a tactical monstrosity of light and unrestrained, glittering capitalism. It was less shopping, and more a prolonged study in how one person can still look fetching while silently plotting the demise of others in the queue. One inevitably acquires a certain philosophical sense when elbowing through the teething, dominionistic masses, and with it, the odd compulsion to see if any natural laws govern these holiday throngs.
Spoiler Alert, and don't hold your breath: They do not. It seems the only governing principle here is the desperate need for a third parking garage. And yet, one glance at you, and I it was worth every miserable, cheerful second
#CityCreekSaga #WindowExplormes #crowdfromhell #JustAddSpikedCocoa #happyholidaychaos
I guess I have been failing with pictures of my filled @needhamwoodworks case. It's been a busy spring and I had to finish the studio for it to have a place to live then the new band and show and work and school but no more excuses.
