So what's new in the Blue House? Puppies. Lots of them. Lindsay's dog has nine of them.

As of yesterday all but two had found homes. I picked up Sherman last weekend, and I'm happy to report that he's a great companion. He never cries, he goes into his crate without complaints and — not counting the time he got into Kanye's (my cat's) food — he's had no accidents. Since he was a stray, I'm excited to see how he turns out. I wish I could look into the future and see if he's going to be a large, mastiff-type dog or a little yip-yip-type dog. I'll keep you informed. I'm sure you'll still be checking out this blog in a year just to see his pictures!

Well, my wedding went off without a hitch, and my wife and I enjoyed a wonderful, relaxing honeymoon in a forgotten corner of Florida. We had a terrific time away from our normal hectic life and felt tremendously blessed to not only have each other, but wonderful friends and family that supported us before, during and after our big day.

Then, we came home — and realized that our apartment looked like a tornado hit it. Since we've used it as little more than a way station for about two weeks, it's littered with luggage, clean and dirty clothes, and empty and full boxes and bags of wedding gifts. Every possible surface is littered with half-printed wedding programs, receipts, cards, unopened mail and unread newspapers. In short, it's a huge mess. Laundry needs to be done, dishes need to be put away, and we have to find a place for a bunch of new stuff we received as gifts.

Now, that's not a bad thing — our old toaster looked like we found it at the landfill and we never had enough forks for more than two meals before — but we're in serious need of some organization, and fast. What makes the task even more daunting is that we're moving in a couple of months, so once we find a place for everything, it will be time to take it out, box it up and start all over again — likely in a smaller apartment.

I'm almost tempted to use some of the cash we got for our wedding to hire a housecleaner or home organizer off Angie's List — but I have the feeling that this is a project my new wife and I will end up tackling ourselves. I sense my first 'honey-do' list coming up very soon — in fact, it's probably waiting for me at home.

I’ve been taking a lot of baths lately. Now, I can already guess what you’re thinking: “I thought ‘Mike’ was a guy’s name?”

Well, it is. But before you make any wild judgments about my masculinity — say, my abilities to watch football, grill and drink beer in garages — let me clarify. I’m not spending all this valuable time soaking in lukewarm water by choice. And I certainly don’t make an experience out of it — you know, with bubbles, rubber ducks and all that nonsense. I’d much rather take a shower.

About two weeks ago I came home from work to find about 30 ceramic tiles in my bathtub. Some caulking finally gave way and half my bathroom wall fell victim to gravity. The incident left three wooden, ramshackle studs exposed. I’m afraid to get those boards wet — the whole building could come down! — so I’ve been taking the safer, albeit “childish,” route.

Truth be told, I never really understood the bath stigma, and I’ve taken to defending bath benefits from several friends who complain, “Man, you take longer than a girl getting ready.”

“Maybe so,” I reply, “but I’m saving more water and getting other things done while I cleanse, like tax returns and phone conversations.”

Click.

Some people don’t like talking to bath-takers, especially those who are in the middle of the act. That’s not to say bathing occasionally is wrong. But every day? Now that’s infantile, even girlie. It’s as though I betrayed my gender or some ancient code of machismo. So, I was quite relieved when, after a week’s hesitation, my apartment managers sent someone to fix the wall. That was (I thought) a major turning point in my social life.

Except for the fact they didn’t fix it. Instead, they put industrial-strength trash bags over the hole and “caulked” them with duct tape. Nice work, fellas. A real bang-up job. I’d give you an “A” on the List, if you were true contractors and not just slumlords.

A note on the counter read, “will come back to replace tile ASAP.” Gee, thanks. I tried taking a shower with this new setup, only to find the duct tape acts like a drainage gutter, diverting a constant stream to my bathroom floor.

But I guess they solved one problem. After all, bathing with duct tape is pretty manly, right? I'll just assume that was their intention all along.

The Indianapolis 500 is two days away, but it's race day here at Angie's List. Today is the second annual Angie's List Soap Box Derby. I don't have much time to write, as the festivities begin in just a few minutes.

The entire Angie's List work force was divided into 30 teams earlier this week, each with about a dozen employees. Team names and captains have been chosen, and $75 gift cards to a home improvement store were used to purchase car parts. This morning we'll put the cars together, and after lunch, race them downhill through a parking lot filled with wet, sticky hay bales.

Each team has a theme, and costumes are in vogue today. 'Big Brown' has a tiny female jockey ready to take the wheel, the 'A-Team' is here with Mr. T, and the 'Friday the 13th Crystal Lake Cruisers' team is comprised of unsuspecting campers and a hockey-masked Jason, of course.

It's not all fun and games, though. There's a $1,000 cash prize for the winning team, so the IT guys and engineers are taking this quite seriously. We're not just computer gurus, data specialists, writers and artists : today, we're car owners and pit crew members.

I've got to run now, it's time to build our car.

Probably the best thing about my new house is the view of the Indianapolis skyline, right across the split of I-65 and I-70 at the heart of downtown. It’s an underrated view; not many places really consider the Indy skyline to be a classic view, but to me it’s a gem.

If a city can be said to have a heart, those highways are most certainly its arteries. And I feel a special connection to this area as well, just a stone’s throw away from Pogue’s Run – where my great-great-great-great-grandfather, George Pogue, was the first European man to settle in Marion County, first establishing his cabin in 1820 or so.

Ever since moving here I’ve become deeply invested in the local community – partially as the community liaison for Angie’s List, but also because I’m deeply interested in doing everything I can to improve the quality of life in my immediate neighborhood, the Holy Cross neighborhood, and the overall Near East Side. Particularly now that we’re the subject of literally national media attention, as revitalizing this area was a key part of Indianapolis’ bid to land the 2012 Super Bowl.

So perhaps I’m unusual; most people aren’t going to live near a creek named after their family, and even fewer are probably gearing up for a Super Bowl in their own backyard. But it’s not just about the big things; it’s about community-building, everyone coming together for the common good, the day-to-day trudge of making things just a little better than they were the day before.

It used to be that I’d say a quick hello to the city every time that bright jeweled skyline came into view as I traveled down I-65. Now I say it every morning and again every night. We’re in this together, my city and I – whatever “this” is.

I’ve lived in my house for nearly two years, and haven’t managed to get much done … as far as gardening goes. The front yard is in decent condition, but the back is lacking. We had fantastic weather last weekend, so I decided to grab the trowel and some gloves and give it a go.

I started in the backyard, which, as you know, is in pretty bad shape due to my large herd of dogs. I bought some lovely ferns to hang in the back, some trellises to mask the unsightly garbage-can area and ground cover to surround our birdbath. After a few hours of backbreaking work, I was able to revel in my accomplishments. Then it hit me …

The maniac dogs are going to ruin all my attempts to beautify our yard! These careless yahoos have no regard for the careful planning that went into picking out the perfect full-sun, partial-shade plants. They don’t discriminate between a weed and a clematis — so what should I do? I decided to get some garden fencing to protect my newly rejuvenated garden. But now it looks like the plants are in prison. The birdbath looks like some sort of bird penitentiary.

So this is my question … which is worse: A hopelessly desolate landscape? Or a gorgeous one hidden from view and partitioned off by hideous, green fencing?

I faced one of my biggest fears this week – I finally went to the dentist to have a couple cavities filled. There’s a good reason I’m scared of the tooth doctor, and it’s not the needles or drills that give me the heebie-jeebies. I’ve had too many bad experiences with several different dentists.

When one dentist filled a cavity for me a couple of years ago, my whole face swelled up like a balloon and my mouth became covered in sores. Horrified, I called the dentist in for an emergency weekend visit, and she tried to tell me it was completely normal and convince me we could tackle another cavity in a day or two. Ha! No thanks.

The next dentist I visited watched “Jerry Springer” while he worked on my mouth. Seriously. His father had extracted my wisdom teeth and done a fabulous job, so I thought the son would also serve me well. But the trashy guests throwing chairs and fists must have distracted him, because all the dental work he performed has had to be redone.

A different dentist performed my root canal. Apparently, she didn’t entirely kill the nerve, so it will eventually have to be re-drilled, according to my new dentist. Boy, I’m glad I shelled out more than $600 to that endodontist.

So I completely understand the need for a good, reliable and trustworthy dentist, and I’ve finally found a gem. A co-worker referred me to Dr. Tim Phillips. And, now thanks to the new medical ratings on Angie’s List, I can tell the world all about this wonderful dentist. His office staff is nice and competent, he explains everything in plain English and works to keep my out-of-pocket costs down. Best of all, his office has a great, eagle-eye view of the Circle City and offers free valet parking. I think Dr. Tim has successful calmed my dental qualms.

Go to Angie's List and check the MED - DENTISTRY categories to find highly rated dentists near you!

In case you’re biting your nails with curiosity, wondering if I actually finished the Mini-Marathon or if I ended up in the back of an ambulance somewhere along the course, you can rest easy. I survived. My colleagues have heard me regale the events of the day, but just in case I missed anyone I can sum it up thusly: I ran, I walked, I ran some more, I walked a lot more, my legs ached. I crossed the finish line and ate a banana and a cookie. All in just three hours. Would I do it again? Sure, why not? After all, they do give you a cookie at the end. 

Alas, my cookie-eating days are limited. One of the great benefits of working at Angie’s List is our on-site fitness facility and exercise classes. Also, we have the advantage of a full-time personal trainer on staff, Kelsey. She’s a great motivator and a wonderful asset for all of us who utilize her skills and knowledge. Well, Kelsey is ready to put us to the test. She’s organizing a company-wide Biggest Loser contest, so of course I had to sign up. Similar to the television program, the Angie’s List Biggest Loser contest is open to any employee looking to drop some pounds, and the winner is determined by overall body weight loss percentage.

And I kid you not when I say this is a serious competition — especially among the inhabitants of the Blue House. I think most everyone has signed up for the contest, even those who couldn’t pinch an extra inch if they tried! It’s a collective movement to live a healthier lifestyle, and I think it’s great. We recycle, we’re trying to stop smoking (some more successfully than others), we’re saving gas by biking to work and we’re trying to get in shape. Before you know it, we’re going to be the SUPER BLUE HOUSE! (you have to hum the theme to Superman while you read that, to get the full effect)

It’s going to be a good, healthy summer. We’ll keep you posted.

I’m counting down the days until June 21. That’s the day I’m competing in a triathlon here in Indianapolis. And, because I’ve got quite a bit of work to do to get ready for it, the time is just flying by.

I’m not a runner. I don’t even own a bike. I have no pool to train in. How did I get myself into this?

A few weeks ago, one of my friends from home told me she was coming to Indy with some friends to do a triathlon and asked me if I wanted to do it as well. At first, I was pretty hesitant about the idea, but once she told me it was a sprint triathlon – 500 meter swim, 10-mile bike and 3-mile run – I thought, why not? Thanks to the Angie’s List fitness center, I’ve been working out almost every day for the past couple of months. I’m not in great shape, but at least I’m getting regular exercise, and I’ve been trying to stick with a healthier diet, too. I swam competitively growing up, and although I’ve been retired from swimming since I graduated from college, I figured it couldn’t be that hard to get back in shape. And, part of me just wanted to see if I could do it. I’ve done a triathlon once before (OK, some kids’ event when I was about 12), so that makes me an old pro, right? Besides, I had six weeks to train.

That six weeks is now five weeks – and counting – and although I’ve made some progress (I’ve gotten another friend to sign up, made plans with those coming in from out of town, and thought about what carbs I might want to eat the day or two before the race), I still have some work to do. I’ve only been running a few times (did I mention that I really don’t like to run?), but hey, I still have five weeks. I’ve made arrangements to borrow a bike from a co-worker (thanks, Mandy!), so as soon as I have that, I’ll start biking around my neighborhood. I’ve talked to the people at the YMCA, which has both indoor and outdoor pools, about their membership plans, and I’m joining this weekend. (Not only will I have somewhere to swim laps, but I’ll have a pool I can visit all summer!) I still need to check the List to find a massage therapist…. I have a feeling I’ll have some aches and pains when all is said and done.

I guess you could say I’ve done well with the preparation… now it’s time to really start training. I’m not worried: I’m already running, I’ll soon be swimming and biking, and anyway, I still have five weeks to go….

Yep, I'm a survivor. Today is my one-year anniversary working for Angie's List. I know, I know: I'm the man. And after picking up my anniversary reward/gift, I'm convinced working at the List was the right choice.

My first full week here at the List was the week before the Indianapolis 500 weekend. It just so happened that the first Angie's List 500 fell upon my first Friday. In anticipation of the Indy 500, Angie's List puts on our own version of the race. Employees are split into teams, given gift cards to a home improvement store and instructed to build the fastest soap box derby car $75 can buy.

So that was my first Friday. I woke up, came into work and realized I didn't know a single member of my soap box team, and the coworkers I did know were scattered with their various teams, building their cars. There was a lot of hustle and bustle: people with hammers ran around, loud music blasted and a hog was roasted.

After wandering around for a half hour, I panicked and ran home. That's right: my first Friday, I ditched the place and ran home like a little baby. Yep, I'm a survivor.