I've been contemplating creating something of this sort for months. On several occasions, I've remarked to others that my dream gig would be writing a column that's part Erma Bombeck, part Tim Allen, part Carrie Bradshaw -- somehow incorporating tales of my misadventures in domestic engineering and my observations on parenthood and on male-female entanglements into a humorous melange others might enjoy perusing.
I wanted to give a nod to both the fictional Carrie and the wry and witty Erma in my title, so, initially, I went with "Sex Over the Septic Tank". However, I found myself worrying that no matter how familiar with my writing some might be, that title might just keep getting misconstrued. I don't know that I'd ever advocate actual sex over an actual septic tank. There's something rather unseemly about the notion. And I certainly didn't want to trip folks up with an unwelcome image or impression. So this morning, I ditched the potentially problematic preposition and opted for the tamer conjunction, settling on "Sex and the Septic Tank." (Tim got short shrift there, I realize, but I figure the reference to small scale sewage treatment systems sounds vaguely home improvementish as well.)
In short, this blog isn't really about sex and/or septic tanks. But an effort to find a way to laugh at and live with the life I now find myself leading. Thank you for indulging me.