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I work for a tax preparation service and just spent a week training at corporate HQ. I see part of my job as protecting the taxpayer from the IRS, covering their ass and mine with extensive documentation, timely responses to letters, and thorough yearly review of changes to tax law. Complicated taxes make my job more secure, but I think it's ridiculous how complex a single person's individual income tax return can be when life becomes even a little bit more complicated than having a single W2 wage job. Occasionally, you glimpse the shadow of the beast that is the tax code, and it makes you a little afraid of all the shit there is to know that you don't know. I don't want to feed that monster anymore. You know how much I am not looking forward to the ACA complicating the return for my clients this year?

It's so telling how almost every person has a parent who was on drugs, a death in the family, or a history of molestation. I wonder how much therapy at the right time would save addictive personality people from becoming addicts, or whether addiction is a ticking time bomb just in need of the catalyst of a terrible life event, and the only way out is through for everyone once they've hit that point.

I'm a former offline caption editor who unwillingly watched a lot of reality TV and bad movies, and I think your choice of project is marvelous - partly because of the accessibility you're providing to so many people, and partly because if you don't like a project, at least it's over quickly! I moved to a rural area with terrible internet service, but as soon as my options for online video-watching make it viable, I would love to join your ranks and volunteer a little time per week toward captioning online videos. I used to keep a totem at my desk that reminded me of my grandma; she lost her hearing with age, and for a couple of years, she was still able to enjoy one of her favorite soap operas because my company captioned it (and sometimes it was me behind the keyboard).

Best of luck to you! One of my best friends was diagnosed with a large tumor (which she had been ignoring for months) on her 30th birthday back in 2007. She went through chemo, single mastectomy, and reconstruction. She also got a divorce while in early treatment, then dated and married the man who is the love of her life. She is in remission and stopped taking tamoxifen last year. She and her husband are planning to try to conceive this year, which is so exciting for them, and I'm so happy it is possible for them to be parents. I hope you make it to the other side of your fight with as much success as she's had.

She and I used to do Komen walks/fundraising together (I have a drawer of 5K walk t-shirts), but after the crap they've pulled over the last few years, American Cancer Society gets my donations now. Pinkification can suck it, especially slapping pink on sugary junk foods.

Hello, Mr. Pinchot! My boyfriend and I DVR your shows. We're waiting for the current season to be done so we can just sit down some weekend and binge (come onnnnnnn!). We're both DIY Network addicts, and in addition to Mike Holmes, you're our favorite current personality. You've just got so much kooky charisma, and your show is a delight to watch. I was initially intrigued for the fun of seeing what you were up to, then delighted at both the work you do and the enthusiasm you and your team have.

The rehabs you guys put together are interesting to me not only due to aesthetic appreciation of how you combine salvaged materials, but also because they remind me of the very old home in which I grew up. I lived with my grandmother and mom in a house that was built by my grandmother's grandfather or great-grandfather in the mid-1800s. It had some Greco-Roman architectural features in the original doors, mantles, etc., though many changes had been made over the 160-plus years of its known history. The home was owned by the family until my grandmother went into a nursing home and lost the house to auction after foreclosure (in better times, she took out mortgages to help her children financially). There's just something about seeing familiar lines in each room from your show, from light fixtures to furniture to doors, that reminds me of a home that doesn't exist anymore, and the nostalgia is bittersweet, if fleet.

I'm off to stare at the little folder that says 11 episodes of The Bronson Pinchot Project are sitting unwatched on my DVR. Maybe I can make all the episodes air faster if I stare at my tv hard enough.