Lauren totally unaware that a UFO just landed behind her.Wednesday, July 02, 2008
Monday, June 30, 2008
Data
I was talking to a friend the other day and I said the word "data".
"It's data. The way you say it is annoying." She said to me.
I had flashbacks to my first time on an Ivy League campus where I was corrected on how I spoke several times. No, I did not go to an Ivy League school but the students there felt the need to correct my pronuniciation of several words.
Feeling very self-conscious, because my friends are very smart and bright people and I am not so much, I looked up the pronunciation of the word data. I used dictionary dot com, does anyone actually own a dictionary any more? I wanted to make sure I was saying it the correct way.
Both ways of pronouncing it are correct.
How do you pronounce data?
Day-Ta? or Datta?...
...and which way is annoying?
"It's data. The way you say it is annoying." She said to me.
I had flashbacks to my first time on an Ivy League campus where I was corrected on how I spoke several times. No, I did not go to an Ivy League school but the students there felt the need to correct my pronuniciation of several words.
Feeling very self-conscious, because my friends are very smart and bright people and I am not so much, I looked up the pronunciation of the word data. I used dictionary dot com, does anyone actually own a dictionary any more? I wanted to make sure I was saying it the correct way.
Both ways of pronouncing it are correct.
How do you pronounce data?
Day-Ta? or Datta?...
...and which way is annoying?
Thursday, June 26, 2008
Subconscious Decisions
I figured something out about myself regarding a subconscious decision I make when I am dressing Maxfield and Wyatt.
When getting the kids dressed in the morning, if I know that we are going out to a public place or a party where there will be lots of other kids, I dress them both with the same color shirts. Not matching shirts just the same color. That way, when we are out and I scan the room or yard or park, I only have to look for one color shirt to locate my kids.
The last time I did this is when we went to my friend's farm for a picnic. I dressed both kids in green shirts. If I heard a cry or a shout or a commotion I just looked up and if I saw no green shirt by the commotion I knew my kids were not involved. I could relax.
I also realized that dressing your kids in green at a farm makes them blend right in to the crops. Which defeats the purpose of being able to locate the kids.
When getting the kids dressed in the morning, if I know that we are going out to a public place or a party where there will be lots of other kids, I dress them both with the same color shirts. Not matching shirts just the same color. That way, when we are out and I scan the room or yard or park, I only have to look for one color shirt to locate my kids.
The last time I did this is when we went to my friend's farm for a picnic. I dressed both kids in green shirts. If I heard a cry or a shout or a commotion I just looked up and if I saw no green shirt by the commotion I knew my kids were not involved. I could relax.
I also realized that dressing your kids in green at a farm makes them blend right in to the crops. Which defeats the purpose of being able to locate the kids.
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
Secret Porn Name
When I get into a book I often times find myself overcome by the characters or the mood of the book. I also do this with movies or television series. In normal everyday situations I end up thinking to myself “What would Lou Boltd do?” Or I ask myself “Would I rather be Swearengen or would I want to be Bullock?” both characters from the HBO series Deadwood. (I am just finishing the first season).
I am also captured by the situations in the stories. I can’t help but think about what I would do if I was caught in the middle of an international espionage ring. How would I get a message to my family if I was kidnapped? I play these dilemmas over and over in my head until I move onto the next book or television series and ask myself different questions.
Recently I have been reading a bunch of Harlan Coben books. Harlan Coben writes mystery/thrillers. I was lucky enough to discover his books just a few months ago and a friend has lent me several of his works. I do not devour books. I am a slow reader. It usually takes me a week or two to finish a book. So, I, more or less, snack on them. And using the comparison of snacks I would rate Harlan Coben’s stories like a bag of Ranch flavored Doritos. Not my favorite flavor, but still Doritos, and I can finish a bag (or book) in just a few days.
The one I most recently read was “Tell No One”. Basically a guy thinks his wife is dead but then he starts getting mysterious emails containing information only his wife would know. One of the bits of secret information was that his wife was using an alias and the name she was using was that of her middle name and the street she grew up on. She took her middle name as her first name and her hometown street name as her last name. And of course her husband knew this and of course finds her eventually.
A few nights ago I was in bed watching 48 Hours Mystery. Lauren was asleep next to me. 48 Hours is basically a show about murder and who done it and how did they do it etc. etc. I forget the actual case because they run 48 Hours marathons on cable all the time and I get confused, but a woman went missing and they were trying to find her. There was a ransom demand and the police wanted to make sure that the woman was still alive and asked a question that only the woman would know.
I forget the details because I immediately had to wake Lauren so we could come up with a secret code word in the event she ever witnessed a horrible crime committed by the KGB and had to go into hiding and she needed to contact me.
“Lauren, wake up.”
“What?”
“If you ever need to use a secret name to get into contact with me, I want you to use Andrea Carlson.”
“You want me to use my stripper name?” she said referring to the various “Name Generator” types of websites, using her middle name and street name.
“Yes.”
“You woke me up for that?”
“Yes. I just want to make sure we are on the same page.”
The next day, after I put some thought into it, I realized that the KGB or rogue CIA agents would probably know her middle name and street name. So we needed to come up with a different plan.
“I think we need to change your secret code name.” I told her the next morning over coffee. “What was the name of your first pet? Was it B.C.?”
“No. My first pet’s name was Miss Catsky.” She said. "So now you want me to use my porn star name?”
“Your porn name is Miss Catsky Carlson? I think I like that.”
I am also captured by the situations in the stories. I can’t help but think about what I would do if I was caught in the middle of an international espionage ring. How would I get a message to my family if I was kidnapped? I play these dilemmas over and over in my head until I move onto the next book or television series and ask myself different questions.
Recently I have been reading a bunch of Harlan Coben books. Harlan Coben writes mystery/thrillers. I was lucky enough to discover his books just a few months ago and a friend has lent me several of his works. I do not devour books. I am a slow reader. It usually takes me a week or two to finish a book. So, I, more or less, snack on them. And using the comparison of snacks I would rate Harlan Coben’s stories like a bag of Ranch flavored Doritos. Not my favorite flavor, but still Doritos, and I can finish a bag (or book) in just a few days.
The one I most recently read was “Tell No One”. Basically a guy thinks his wife is dead but then he starts getting mysterious emails containing information only his wife would know. One of the bits of secret information was that his wife was using an alias and the name she was using was that of her middle name and the street she grew up on. She took her middle name as her first name and her hometown street name as her last name. And of course her husband knew this and of course finds her eventually.
A few nights ago I was in bed watching 48 Hours Mystery. Lauren was asleep next to me. 48 Hours is basically a show about murder and who done it and how did they do it etc. etc. I forget the actual case because they run 48 Hours marathons on cable all the time and I get confused, but a woman went missing and they were trying to find her. There was a ransom demand and the police wanted to make sure that the woman was still alive and asked a question that only the woman would know.
I forget the details because I immediately had to wake Lauren so we could come up with a secret code word in the event she ever witnessed a horrible crime committed by the KGB and had to go into hiding and she needed to contact me.
“Lauren, wake up.”
“What?”
“If you ever need to use a secret name to get into contact with me, I want you to use Andrea Carlson.”
“You want me to use my stripper name?” she said referring to the various “Name Generator” types of websites, using her middle name and street name.
“Yes.”
“You woke me up for that?”
“Yes. I just want to make sure we are on the same page.”
The next day, after I put some thought into it, I realized that the KGB or rogue CIA agents would probably know her middle name and street name. So we needed to come up with a different plan.
“I think we need to change your secret code name.” I told her the next morning over coffee. “What was the name of your first pet? Was it B.C.?”
“No. My first pet’s name was Miss Catsky.” She said. "So now you want me to use my porn star name?”
“Your porn name is Miss Catsky Carlson? I think I like that.”
Monday, June 23, 2008
Define Couple
"In a couple of minutes."
"Take a few more bites."
"You can take a couple of more."
"Eat a couple more carrots and you can be excused."
"In a few mniutes."
"I'll be out in a couple of minutes."
"A couple more minutes then it is time for bed."
We use the words "few" and "couple" all the time with the kids. My definition of couple and few are pretty much the same thing. They both mean less than 10 but more than one and "few" is a slightly higher value than "couple." Anything over 10, I consider a "bunch".
Lauren has taught Maxfield her definitions of the words.
"Couple" is two. No more no less. "Few" is three, no more or no less.
Max's new knowledge and definition of the words is causing some issues in our house. When I say a couple or few I am thinking less than 10. He is thinking exact.
Let's just say he has 7 pieces of carrotts on his dinner plate. I, being the parent, want him to eat at least more than half of the carrots. So I say, "Eat a couple more carrots." I am thinking 4 or 5.
Max will eat just two carrots and argue with me that I said "couple".
Or maybe we are sharing a bag of Swedish Fish and I tell Max he can have a few. I am thinking about 7 or 8. Max will get upset because he thinks I am only giving him 3.
I made the mistake, while giving the kids some grapes, telling Max he could have a "couple more" and then saying Wyatt could have "few more". Max was beside himself that I was giving Wyatt more.
How do you define couple, few and bunch?
"Take a few more bites."
"You can take a couple of more."
"Eat a couple more carrots and you can be excused."
"In a few mniutes."
"I'll be out in a couple of minutes."
"A couple more minutes then it is time for bed."
We use the words "few" and "couple" all the time with the kids. My definition of couple and few are pretty much the same thing. They both mean less than 10 but more than one and "few" is a slightly higher value than "couple." Anything over 10, I consider a "bunch".
Lauren has taught Maxfield her definitions of the words.
"Couple" is two. No more no less. "Few" is three, no more or no less.
Max's new knowledge and definition of the words is causing some issues in our house. When I say a couple or few I am thinking less than 10. He is thinking exact.
Let's just say he has 7 pieces of carrotts on his dinner plate. I, being the parent, want him to eat at least more than half of the carrots. So I say, "Eat a couple more carrots." I am thinking 4 or 5.
Max will eat just two carrots and argue with me that I said "couple".
Or maybe we are sharing a bag of Swedish Fish and I tell Max he can have a few. I am thinking about 7 or 8. Max will get upset because he thinks I am only giving him 3.
I made the mistake, while giving the kids some grapes, telling Max he could have a "couple more" and then saying Wyatt could have "few more". Max was beside himself that I was giving Wyatt more.
How do you define couple, few and bunch?
Thursday, June 19, 2008
Confessions of a Former Class Officer
Below is my friend Susan's response to yesterday's post.
Clarifications and Confessions of a Former Class Officer
By Susan aka Tori
Dear Bill,
I obviously feel compelled to respond at length to your blog entry about the reunion, having been called out in such fashion.
Clarification 1. How can you say you weren’t popular? If you went to our high school with the last name M****m, you were automatically popular, even if you were secretly a big dork with an enormous comic book collection.
Clarification 2. I was not popular. Viola-playing, theater-loving, academic decathletes by definition are not popular. Now, according to Clarification 1, if my last name had been M****m like yours, it wouldn’t matter if I picked my nose and ate it every day, I still would have been popular.
I wish I could tell you that I ran for class officer because I was super passionate about who won the Hallway Decorating Competition (we lost our senior year and Steve G yelled at me) or because I wholeheartedly looked forward to the day when I would be privileged enough to plan the reunion. But really, I just wanted two things.
First, I wanted that bright yellow hall pass that enabled me to do whatever the hell I wanted at any point in the school day, that golden ticket that said, “Class Council Business.” As a class officer senior year, you were just given this blank hall pass with unlimited use. Flash that golden slip at any hall monitor or teacher, saying something like, oh I don’t know, “I need to go buy more posters for the Pep Rally,” and you were out of class. Sadly, or not, depending on your perspective, I used most of this time to go get Slurpees, which, looking back, was this weird status symbol in our school. If you showed up in school with a Slurpee, it meant a) you had a car and b) you somehow got out of school. None of this iPod, iPhone status-y crap. A Slurpee meant something in our town.
And now the second reason I ran for class officer. I am sorry to confess that I ran for class officer because…I really just needed something good for my college applications. Bill, I might not have needed to partake in this sham if I had not spent all of 9th grade Social Studies competing with you for who could get the most zeros. (Although it is worth noting that for as many of the zeros I accumulated for not doing a shred of homework and talking to you through entire classes, many of my zeros were also accumulated by eating in class. You may remember that the marching band was selling candy to go to Florida and I single-handedly bought and consumed enough candy to fund the entire trip.)
From the bitter, bitter tone in your blog entry, I now understand that there were many people, such as you, who held pure, practically holy motives in running for Class Council, and to all of those individuals, I apologize for snagging the job in the interest of Slurpees and entrance into an excellent liberal arts college. And so, realizing the errors of my past, I hereby in the presence of the entire blogosphere, renounce my claim to the position of Secretary of the Class of 1988 and appoint Bill as my worthy successor.
To Cyndi, Kim, Tiffany, Tara, and anyone else who planned and executed our 5th, 10th and 15th reunions: a belated thank you for doing my former job for me. I had a lot of fun and got really drunk at all three. I would feel really happy if you all did it again, and this time I will be more outwardly thankful. I think you clearly have a very interested person to recruit for the planning committee named Bill, especially since he is now Secretary of the Class of 1988. And it seems that if you’re really lucky, at the end of each planning meeting, he might dry hump you like he did Steve W.
Clarifications and Confessions of a Former Class Officer
By Susan aka Tori
Dear Bill,
I obviously feel compelled to respond at length to your blog entry about the reunion, having been called out in such fashion.
Clarification 1. How can you say you weren’t popular? If you went to our high school with the last name M****m, you were automatically popular, even if you were secretly a big dork with an enormous comic book collection.
Clarification 2. I was not popular. Viola-playing, theater-loving, academic decathletes by definition are not popular. Now, according to Clarification 1, if my last name had been M****m like yours, it wouldn’t matter if I picked my nose and ate it every day, I still would have been popular.
I wish I could tell you that I ran for class officer because I was super passionate about who won the Hallway Decorating Competition (we lost our senior year and Steve G yelled at me) or because I wholeheartedly looked forward to the day when I would be privileged enough to plan the reunion. But really, I just wanted two things.
First, I wanted that bright yellow hall pass that enabled me to do whatever the hell I wanted at any point in the school day, that golden ticket that said, “Class Council Business.” As a class officer senior year, you were just given this blank hall pass with unlimited use. Flash that golden slip at any hall monitor or teacher, saying something like, oh I don’t know, “I need to go buy more posters for the Pep Rally,” and you were out of class. Sadly, or not, depending on your perspective, I used most of this time to go get Slurpees, which, looking back, was this weird status symbol in our school. If you showed up in school with a Slurpee, it meant a) you had a car and b) you somehow got out of school. None of this iPod, iPhone status-y crap. A Slurpee meant something in our town.
And now the second reason I ran for class officer. I am sorry to confess that I ran for class officer because…I really just needed something good for my college applications. Bill, I might not have needed to partake in this sham if I had not spent all of 9th grade Social Studies competing with you for who could get the most zeros. (Although it is worth noting that for as many of the zeros I accumulated for not doing a shred of homework and talking to you through entire classes, many of my zeros were also accumulated by eating in class. You may remember that the marching band was selling candy to go to Florida and I single-handedly bought and consumed enough candy to fund the entire trip.)
From the bitter, bitter tone in your blog entry, I now understand that there were many people, such as you, who held pure, practically holy motives in running for Class Council, and to all of those individuals, I apologize for snagging the job in the interest of Slurpees and entrance into an excellent liberal arts college. And so, realizing the errors of my past, I hereby in the presence of the entire blogosphere, renounce my claim to the position of Secretary of the Class of 1988 and appoint Bill as my worthy successor.
To Cyndi, Kim, Tiffany, Tara, and anyone else who planned and executed our 5th, 10th and 15th reunions: a belated thank you for doing my former job for me. I had a lot of fun and got really drunk at all three. I would feel really happy if you all did it again, and this time I will be more outwardly thankful. I think you clearly have a very interested person to recruit for the planning committee named Bill, especially since he is now Secretary of the Class of 1988. And it seems that if you’re really lucky, at the end of each planning meeting, he might dry hump you like he did Steve W.
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
Class of 88-20 Year reunion?
Twenty years ago, around this time of the year, I graduated from high school. I was recently with some friends (friends from high school, yes 90% of my friends today are from my high school years.) and we were discussing the 20 year reunion. Were we going to have one? Were we not? Who would we want to see? Etc. Etc.
I am not sure how all this works but in my junior year I ran for one of the officer positions for class council for my senior year. I clearly remember that one of the "responsibilities" of being an officer was to be part of the planning committee for the reunions. I lost the election. I was not popular enough. I may have been upset at the time but now, 20 years later, I am so glad I lost.
One of the people that was elected as an officer was my friend Susan (who comments here occasionally as Tori Spelling). She was popular. Now, 20 years later she is trying to back out of her responsibilities of organizing the reunion. She, of course, is blaming Albie, John R and Cindy Z who were the other officers elected. I am not sure if they were even the other officers but she throws Albie in there, because I think she understands that for some unknown reason he is "Newman" to my Jerry Seinfeld.
I am not sure how all this works but in my junior year I ran for one of the officer positions for class council for my senior year. I clearly remember that one of the "responsibilities" of being an officer was to be part of the planning committee for the reunions. I lost the election. I was not popular enough. I may have been upset at the time but now, 20 years later, I am so glad I lost.
One of the people that was elected as an officer was my friend Susan (who comments here occasionally as Tori Spelling). She was popular. Now, 20 years later she is trying to back out of her responsibilities of organizing the reunion. She, of course, is blaming Albie, John R and Cindy Z who were the other officers elected. I am not sure if they were even the other officers but she throws Albie in there, because I think she understands that for some unknown reason he is "Newman" to my Jerry Seinfeld.
I just want her to realize that 20 years ago, when she was elected, she took on a responsibility and she should follow through on that promise or pledge. I am sure she is bogged down with her other duties to the French Club (she was the President) and the Academic Decathlon.
All the talk about the reunion made me pull out the year book.
Then: I was very vain about my dark dark hair. Now: I am very vain about my salt and pepper hair.
Then: I made the yearbook. I was not voted as "Most Likely to Succeed" or "Most Athletic" but part of the great distinction of "Cutest Couple". Now: I am part of the "hottest" couple. Lauren makes up most of the percentage of the hotness.
Then: I played football. I made the year book. That is me, # 20, dry humping Steve W. after a touchdown. You would think they would have used a different picture. I think this would have worked better as the "Cutest Couple." Now: The only football player I would dry hump would be Ladainian Tomlinson and only if he scored four TDs in a game and he was on my Fantasy Football Team. 
Then: I performed a Rap on our Senior Class Trip as part of the talent show. Now: I struggle to remember nursery rhymes for my kids.
Then: Meeting my friends at 7-11 to get Slurpees on our way to the prom. Now: We occasionally meet for beers but we never wear tuxedos's and actually try to avoid situations where we have to wear a tux.
This picture represents the start of my interest in writing. All seniors, as part of their English requirements, had a to write a senior speech. Mine was selected to be presented at one of the graduation services. Then: This is me after I gave my speech at the Baccalaureate Service. The speech was about super heroes and so, toward the end of my presentation I ripped off my shirt to reveal that I was actually Superman. Now: I still wear superhero shirts but they are stretched way too far across my mid-section.I know that some of my friends from high school read this blog. For those that do, call Susan, tell her she has to keep her commitment to the class of 88. Everyone else, I would like to use my comment section as a petition for Susan and the other class officers to get the reunion going.
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
Special Delivery
My mother-in-law was very generous and bought us a new mail box. We have talked about replacing the old one from the day we moved in, but it was never a priority. Now that we had a new one I figured it would be an easy job the kids and I could do together. The new mailbox stated that it was "no dig" type of post and assembly and that the only tools I would need would be a screwdriver, a hammer and a wrench. Three tools total.
I knew that I would have to dig out the old one and that is where the kids could help. We started at 8:30 AM on Saturday.
Actual number of tools we used for this project. Three of my shovels, a hammer, two screwdrivers, a wrench, a pair of pliers, a ratchet wrench. That is 9. Plus I had to borrow from my neighbor another shovel, a Saws-All with a hack blade and his sledgehammer. So another 3. That is a total of 12 tools.
I finally mounted the post (thats what she said) onto the bracket that was hammered into the ground and was almost done when Lauren pointed out to me that the Mailbox leaned forward a bit. I tried to make my case that Mailmen rarely leave any round objects in our mailbox that may roll out. She didn't buy it so I had to re-do the post.
I finished this project at 2:30 PM on Saturday. Saturday night I went to an event and my friend Bob was kind enough to drive me home. During the ride I told him the story of my new mailbox. 10 minutes after dropping me off he called me.
"Bill?" He said.
"Hey. What's up?"
"I just took out your mailbox."
My heart skipped a beat or two until I realized he was only joking. I still went out in the rain to make sure it was okay though.
After six hours of labor I think I should name the thing. Any suggestions?
I knew that I would have to dig out the old one and that is where the kids could help. We started at 8:30 AM on Saturday.
Actual number of tools we used for this project. Three of my shovels, a hammer, two screwdrivers, a wrench, a pair of pliers, a ratchet wrench. That is 9. Plus I had to borrow from my neighbor another shovel, a Saws-All with a hack blade and his sledgehammer. So another 3. That is a total of 12 tools.
I finally mounted the post (thats what she said) onto the bracket that was hammered into the ground and was almost done when Lauren pointed out to me that the Mailbox leaned forward a bit. I tried to make my case that Mailmen rarely leave any round objects in our mailbox that may roll out. She didn't buy it so I had to re-do the post.
I finished this project at 2:30 PM on Saturday. Saturday night I went to an event and my friend Bob was kind enough to drive me home. During the ride I told him the story of my new mailbox. 10 minutes after dropping me off he called me.
"Bill?" He said.
"Hey. What's up?"
"I just took out your mailbox."
My heart skipped a beat or two until I realized he was only joking. I still went out in the rain to make sure it was okay though.
After six hours of labor I think I should name the thing. Any suggestions?
Thursday, June 12, 2008
Why I enjoy shopping alone
I took the kids to the Super Wal-Mart the other night to pick up some items for Wyatt’s B-day. I usually fly through shopping trips when the kids are with me because they have a limited patience and are usually a handful. I usually shop by myself. Wyatt sat in the cart and Maxfield walked along next to us. A promise of Cheetos after the trip kept the kids in check.
Wal-Mart was a having a sale on the name brand Cheetos and I needed to compare the sale price against the price of the lesser-known brand. I like to know that I am getting the best price ounce for ounce when it comes to cheesy goodness. The Cheetos were about 18 cents an ounce while the imposter brand was about 14cents per ounce. But figuring in the 5 cents an ounce cushion I am usually willing to pay for a brand like Cheetos I was going to go with the name brand. (I am not that cheap but there are only a few name brands of food I am willing to pay more for. Examples would be Dorito’s and Turkey Hill Ice Cream and TasyKake)
I was standing in the aisle a little too long doing the math and Max started to wander. He was about ten feet from me and ten feet from the end of the aisle. A rather large woman, very large, all over large, turned the corner of the aisle and almost hit Max with her cart. Not because she was not paying attention, but more because Max stood in the middle of aisle, staring in awe of her large-ness.
“Dad!” He yelled. “Does that lady have a baby in her belly?”
You see, a few of Lauren’s friends have had babies in the past few weeks and Max has become fascinated with babies in bellies. I grabbed two bags of Cheetos threw them in the cart and quick stepped it over to Max to escort him out of the aisle, past the woman, as quick as possible. I did not make eye contact with the woman and I muttered a quick apology.
“No Max.” I said in a very loud fatherly whisper.
I tried to turn his head in the other direction from the woman but I couldn’t manage the cart and Max at the same time. Max pulled his head out of my grip to get a better look at the lady.
“Dad!?” He yelled again. “Maybe she has a baby in her chest. Maybe, maybe she has TWO babies in her chest.”
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
1,051,200 Minutes
Maxfield has an amazing memory. Although he can't remember things he did yesterday I am impressed with some of the stuff he remembers from a couple of years ago. That, is half his lifetime ago.
We were talking about Wyatt's birthday and Max looked up to me and said, "The day Wyatt was born I had a sleep over at Jason and Cora's."
Jason and Cora are Max's friends in Orlando. Their parents, Anne and Joel, watched Max the night we went to the hospital to have Wyatt. Max was two at the time. I don't know if all kids are like that with their memory but I am impressed. Anne and Joel will always be remembered by us for being there for us on such a special day.
Two years ago Wyatt Blue was born.
Here is the story of his arrival, Part One, Part Two and Part Three.
Wyatt Blue is Two today.
He looks so much older with the chocolate goatee.
We were talking about Wyatt's birthday and Max looked up to me and said, "The day Wyatt was born I had a sleep over at Jason and Cora's."
Jason and Cora are Max's friends in Orlando. Their parents, Anne and Joel, watched Max the night we went to the hospital to have Wyatt. Max was two at the time. I don't know if all kids are like that with their memory but I am impressed. Anne and Joel will always be remembered by us for being there for us on such a special day.
Two years ago Wyatt Blue was born.
Here is the story of his arrival, Part One, Part Two and Part Three.
Wyatt Blue is Two today.
He looks so much older with the chocolate goatee.
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
Man Space
A long time ago, before Lauren and I bought our first house, she told me I would eventually get to have my own man-space. Some men get to have the garage or the basement as a workshop or a gym as their space in their house but that is not me. I always wanted to have an office.
My man space would be a dimly lit room with dark furniture and bookshelves. The desk would have multiple rings stained into the grain of the wood from too many cups of coffee which would only be visible if I turned on the green shaded bankers desk light. I would sit in a leather, highback executive swivel chair with wheels. Unless I was reading, then I would sit in the corner, under a tall floor lamp, in a old, musty wing back chair. I would have a decanter of scotch on a small serving table. Who am I kidding I would have an empty decanter. It would be decorated the way I would want it. And if I could, my man-space would have a secret entrance, like a rolling book shelf or a fake wall.
In our new house there is not really a room I can use for an office so Lauren agreed I will eventually get a corner of the living room. It is not the same as having my own space but it will have to do. Over the years I have gathered items I would put in my man-space. I have saved these items like I had a hope chest. One of the items I found is reprodcution of Rembrandt's "The Man in the Golden Helmet". A few weeks ago I decided to hang it on the living room wall.
Now, Lauren is rethinking whether I can have the corner in the living room.
I cannot understand why she does not like it.
Do you have man-space in your house? What's it like?
My man space would be a dimly lit room with dark furniture and bookshelves. The desk would have multiple rings stained into the grain of the wood from too many cups of coffee which would only be visible if I turned on the green shaded bankers desk light. I would sit in a leather, highback executive swivel chair with wheels. Unless I was reading, then I would sit in the corner, under a tall floor lamp, in a old, musty wing back chair. I would have a decanter of scotch on a small serving table. Who am I kidding I would have an empty decanter. It would be decorated the way I would want it. And if I could, my man-space would have a secret entrance, like a rolling book shelf or a fake wall.
In our new house there is not really a room I can use for an office so Lauren agreed I will eventually get a corner of the living room. It is not the same as having my own space but it will have to do. Over the years I have gathered items I would put in my man-space. I have saved these items like I had a hope chest. One of the items I found is reprodcution of Rembrandt's "The Man in the Golden Helmet". A few weeks ago I decided to hang it on the living room wall.
Now, Lauren is rethinking whether I can have the corner in the living room.
I cannot understand why she does not like it.Do you have man-space in your house? What's it like?
Sunday, June 08, 2008
It's not the size...it's the bounce
I know my last post was about the bounce house but I found it hysterical that this past weekend our neighbor had a birthday party for one of her grandchildren and she had a bigger bounce house in her shed. Both of my kids refused to use our bounce house.
They stood at the fence all weekend and coveted our neighbor's things.
Apparently size does matter.
They stood at the fence all weekend and coveted our neighbor's things.
Apparently size does matter.
Friday, June 06, 2008
Body Slam
Our friends Bill and Jessica have one of these Little Tykes "Bounce House". Their cute little girl, who is dainty and pretty and nice, loves the bounce house. Bill and Jessica claim she can jump for hours and hours. My kids love going to Bill and Jessica's house because of the "Bounce House." Since the Little Tykes "bounce house" is portable, Bill and Jessica brought it to our house for a party one day. The kids loved it and they bounced with glee.
Witnesses to the glee and joy at the party thought it would be a great idea to have a bounce house permantly at our house, and so we acquired one.
Witnesses to the glee and joy at the party thought it would be a great idea to have a bounce house permantly at our house, and so we acquired one.
The joy and glee and happy little jumpers lasted a day. You see, I made the mistake of thinking that my boys would be like Bill and Jessica's daughter. I was wrong.
LAAADIES and GENTLEMENNNN. LET'S GET READY TO RUMBLLLLLEEEE...
In this corner we have Wyatt "Super-Fly" Snooka and in the opposite corner we have Max "King Kong Bundy".
We now have Steel Cage Matches every night. Wyatt was the first to get hurt. Max kicked him in the ear. It looks a lot worse in person.
I need to get a black and white Ref shirt now. The only problem is when I go into the bounce house, to separate the two rough housing kids, or to check on injuries, the whole thing deflates. I do not think the "maximum weight" warnings marked on the side are very accurate.
Thursday, June 05, 2008
Monkey See, Monkey Don't.
Why, when I give a toy or a lollipop or a piggyback ride or whatever, to one of my two boys, the other one immediatley wants the exact same thing (the same exact action figure, the same color, flavor, what have you, it has to be exactly the same) and they will carry-on until they get it, but when I offer a choice of a TV show or dessert or whether we will play in the front yard or back yard they can never agree and they will argue nonstop?
Wednesday, June 04, 2008
Snakes, Snails and Puppy Dog Tails.
We spent about an hour down by (and in) the creek. While we were there I realized that I say both "creek" and "crick" depending on the situation.How do you pronounce it?
Sunday, June 01, 2008
Beggin
We recently changed the type of dog food we feed Luna from a cheap brand to even cheaper. The 20 lb bag of Purina included a sample package of Purina's dog treats Beggin' Strips.
I opened the package to give Luna a treat and I was surprised to see the bacon shaped meat-and-meat-by-product treats. Why would Purina make a dog treat that is shaped like bacon?
Do dogs really know what bacon looks like?
The treats kind of smelled like bacon but they really smelled more like beef jerky. I gave Luna one of the treats and she gobbled it up and I put the package in the pantry. The next day I gave her another one. I was still intrigued by the whole bacon shape of the treat. I mean, c'mon, dogs eat their own shit from time to time, why does the treat have to be bacon shaped?
I opened the package to give Luna a treat and I was surprised to see the bacon shaped meat-and-meat-by-product treats. Why would Purina make a dog treat that is shaped like bacon?
Do dogs really know what bacon looks like?
The treats kind of smelled like bacon but they really smelled more like beef jerky. I gave Luna one of the treats and she gobbled it up and I put the package in the pantry. The next day I gave her another one. I was still intrigued by the whole bacon shape of the treat. I mean, c'mon, dogs eat their own shit from time to time, why does the treat have to be bacon shaped?
The following day I gave her another treat. Again I was struck by the bacon shape. It looks like bacon. It kind of smells like bacon. Seriously look at it.
I think it looks good.
I asked Lauren her thoughts about it but she seemed indifferent to the whole thing.
Just for the record it does NOT taste like bacon. I took a bite. Not good.
So again I ask, why the bacon shape? Does a dog know what bacon looks like? Or are the people at Purina just banking on the fact that people are going to try these treats?
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
Elevator Etiquitte
I just think that if you are going to fart on an elevator that you really should have to stay on the elevator for the entire ride until the smell dissipates.
I don’t care if you got on the elevator on the fifth floor and took it to the lobby, where you exited and I entered. I was the only occupant of the elevator when the doors opened on the second floor and two other people got on to ride to the fifth floor with me.
I had to explain to them that it wasn’t me. But I am sure they did not believe me.
I don't think that was fair.
I don’t care if you got on the elevator on the fifth floor and took it to the lobby, where you exited and I entered. I was the only occupant of the elevator when the doors opened on the second floor and two other people got on to ride to the fifth floor with me.
I had to explain to them that it wasn’t me. But I am sure they did not believe me.
I don't think that was fair.
Friday, May 23, 2008
Memorial Day
Memorial Day was always just a day off of work or school for me. My family did not celebrate the day with any type of picnic or party. It was just a holiday that I took for granted. I have always been interested in U.S. History and I have always enjoyed studying books about war and battles (“more pursue than a study”) but I never knew anyone that had died in a war and the significance of Memorial Day was lost on me.
Somewhere in my late teens or early twenties that changed.
I was reading the book “The Only War We Had” by Michael Lanning. The book is one man’s journal of being on the front lines in Vietnam. In one of the entries, he explains the death of one of his comrades LT. William F. Little III. I don’t know why, maybe it was the fact that he was named William, but something about LT. Little grabbed me. I knew nothing about him except for what was written in that book. Not long after reading that book I went to the Vietnam War Memorial in Washington D.C. and I looked up his name and I made an etching. I have been to D.C. maybe 6 times since then, and every time I look up his name on the Wall.
Every Memorial Day, from the time I “found” William Little, I always say a little prayer for his family. I found some significance for the day off of work.
In November of 2005 Capt. Jeff Toczylowski died on a combat mission in Iraq. Jeff was a very close friend of my bother Jim. My mom used to baby-sit Jeff every day after school for many years. I knew Jeff. He was quite the character. Jeff’s death and story made national headlines.
Memorial Day now has more significance to me.
No matter your political affiliation or your stance on war I think it is important to remember those people like William F Little III and Jeff Toczylowski and not take Memorial Day, the holiday, for granted.
Lauren and I have discussed starting a tradition for the kids to make Memorial Day a true day of remembrance of fallen soldiers. I believe they are still too young to teach them about war and loss. But I do not think it is ever too early to teach them to appreciate the freedoms and blessings that we have living in the U.S.
Do you have a Memorial Day tradition? What do you do?
Somewhere in my late teens or early twenties that changed.
I was reading the book “The Only War We Had” by Michael Lanning. The book is one man’s journal of being on the front lines in Vietnam. In one of the entries, he explains the death of one of his comrades LT. William F. Little III. I don’t know why, maybe it was the fact that he was named William, but something about LT. Little grabbed me. I knew nothing about him except for what was written in that book. Not long after reading that book I went to the Vietnam War Memorial in Washington D.C. and I looked up his name and I made an etching. I have been to D.C. maybe 6 times since then, and every time I look up his name on the Wall.
Every Memorial Day, from the time I “found” William Little, I always say a little prayer for his family. I found some significance for the day off of work.
In November of 2005 Capt. Jeff Toczylowski died on a combat mission in Iraq. Jeff was a very close friend of my bother Jim. My mom used to baby-sit Jeff every day after school for many years. I knew Jeff. He was quite the character. Jeff’s death and story made national headlines.
Memorial Day now has more significance to me.
No matter your political affiliation or your stance on war I think it is important to remember those people like William F Little III and Jeff Toczylowski and not take Memorial Day, the holiday, for granted.
Lauren and I have discussed starting a tradition for the kids to make Memorial Day a true day of remembrance of fallen soldiers. I believe they are still too young to teach them about war and loss. But I do not think it is ever too early to teach them to appreciate the freedoms and blessings that we have living in the U.S.
Do you have a Memorial Day tradition? What do you do?
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
Pseech
Does every kid pronounce Spaghetti “pasketti”?
And why is that? I am sure there is some linguist or speech pathologist that knows the answer.
Maxfield does fine with most words that start with SP. Spiderman is not Psiderman. He does not psell his name. Astronauts do not wear a psace suit.
So why pasketti?
And why is that? I am sure there is some linguist or speech pathologist that knows the answer.
Maxfield does fine with most words that start with SP. Spiderman is not Psiderman. He does not psell his name. Astronauts do not wear a psace suit.
He never psits his food on the floor because he denies it every time.
And he would never pseak back to his father because he knows he would not get psanked.
So why pasketti?
Silly Faces
I love modern technology. I really do. All the cool gadgets are awesome. I don't use my gadgets no where near enough as I should based on a cost-to-time-used ratio. One of the reasons I love them is that they give me new games to play with the kids. When Lauren goes to the gym or is busy sewing and I have the kids but I am too tired to run around the back yard, my gadgets come in handy. I mentioned here about one game we play with our video camera.
Last night we played a new game with the the digital camera called Silly Faces. We played for an hour and I must have taken 100 pictures. Every time I took a picture we would review it and try to outdo it. I saved the best and deleted the rest.
Last night we played a new game with the the digital camera called Silly Faces. We played for an hour and I must have taken 100 pictures. Every time I took a picture we would review it and try to outdo it. I saved the best and deleted the rest.
Sunday, May 18, 2008
Mask
Maxfield asked me to make him a Spiderman mask. Why he did not ask my wife, I have no idea, she is the crafty one. I took an old winter knit cap, a pair of scissors and, ta-daa, a Spiderman mask.
Or a bank robber.
Or a bank robber.
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
M.I.L.F. Day
I like my animals. I do. I just don't love them the way most pet people love their dogs or their cats. They have, each of them, from the day we got them, been working on falling out of favor with me. Besides all the daily maintinence they require, feeding, cleaning cat boxes, walking, petting, etc. and the cost of their food and vet bills they have been giving me reasons not to miss them once they are gone.
There was the fight between Bogart the cat and a $200 dollar dress. Bogart won that fight. I am sure the dress attacked Bogart and he was defending himself. There was the fight between the brand new couch and Bogart and Winifred. I know the couch looked menacing and was invading their space so they had to teach the couch a lesson. There was the Flea Incident of 2006 which cost me so much money I can't even think about it.
Every week one of the them gives me a reason to like them even less. This week it was Luna.
Luna poops in the back yard. Lauren and I do a good job of staying on top of cleaning it up. On the weekends, when I cut the grass, since I am bascially walking back and forth across the entire yard, I scan and clean up anything we missed.
This past Sunday, Mother's Day, Lauren asked me to weedwack all the edges of the property. It was getting pretty bad. The weather over the weekend and the Mother's Day activities prevented me from mowing the yard but I figured I could get the trimming done and mow later.
I was half way through the backyard, back by the Tiger Lily's when I noticed a pile of dog poop. I lifted the weed wacker and backed away making a mental note with my mental pen to clean it up later. And just as I placed the weedwacker down to trim some long grass by a decorative rock I noticed another pile of poop. I turned the head of the weedwacker vertical to get a better look and that's when the trimmer string hit the pile of dog poop. The hard plastic trimmer string moving at 14,000 RPMs hit a pile of shit and sprayed the feces into a fine mist which sprayed all over me. Head to toe.
Misted In Luna's Feces.
I gagged. I gagged some more. The smell was horrible.
I hurried and finished the rest of the yard. I ran into the house through the garage into the laundry room. I removed all my clothes while I watched my neighbor's adult children arrive at their house for Mother's Day through the window. I hope they did not see me. I ran, completely naked, through the family room past a floor-to-ceiling window on the side of our house, past the sliding glass doors on the back of our house, and into the the front foyer past the front door windows and up the stairs. I took note that none of our windows have curtains.
The smell was really getting to me when I got to the stop of the steps where Lauren greeted me. She laughed. I tried to explain and I ran into the shower.
And you know it must have been awful because for the FIRST time in my entire married life, I was casually naked in front of my wife and I did not flex and say something like "You want some of this?" or "Hey I'm naked already, you wanna wink wink nudge nudge?" like I usually do.
And for those who read the title of this post and were expecting something else, here is a picture of Lauren, a Mom I'll Love Forever.
There was the fight between Bogart the cat and a $200 dollar dress. Bogart won that fight. I am sure the dress attacked Bogart and he was defending himself. There was the fight between the brand new couch and Bogart and Winifred. I know the couch looked menacing and was invading their space so they had to teach the couch a lesson. There was the Flea Incident of 2006 which cost me so much money I can't even think about it.
Every week one of the them gives me a reason to like them even less. This week it was Luna.
Luna poops in the back yard. Lauren and I do a good job of staying on top of cleaning it up. On the weekends, when I cut the grass, since I am bascially walking back and forth across the entire yard, I scan and clean up anything we missed.
This past Sunday, Mother's Day, Lauren asked me to weedwack all the edges of the property. It was getting pretty bad. The weather over the weekend and the Mother's Day activities prevented me from mowing the yard but I figured I could get the trimming done and mow later.
I was half way through the backyard, back by the Tiger Lily's when I noticed a pile of dog poop. I lifted the weed wacker and backed away making a mental note with my mental pen to clean it up later. And just as I placed the weedwacker down to trim some long grass by a decorative rock I noticed another pile of poop. I turned the head of the weedwacker vertical to get a better look and that's when the trimmer string hit the pile of dog poop. The hard plastic trimmer string moving at 14,000 RPMs hit a pile of shit and sprayed the feces into a fine mist which sprayed all over me. Head to toe.
Misted In Luna's Feces.
I gagged. I gagged some more. The smell was horrible.
I hurried and finished the rest of the yard. I ran into the house through the garage into the laundry room. I removed all my clothes while I watched my neighbor's adult children arrive at their house for Mother's Day through the window. I hope they did not see me. I ran, completely naked, through the family room past a floor-to-ceiling window on the side of our house, past the sliding glass doors on the back of our house, and into the the front foyer past the front door windows and up the stairs. I took note that none of our windows have curtains.
The smell was really getting to me when I got to the stop of the steps where Lauren greeted me. She laughed. I tried to explain and I ran into the shower.
And you know it must have been awful because for the FIRST time in my entire married life, I was casually naked in front of my wife and I did not flex and say something like "You want some of this?" or "Hey I'm naked already, you wanna wink wink nudge nudge?" like I usually do.
And for those who read the title of this post and were expecting something else, here is a picture of Lauren, a Mom I'll Love Forever.
A new law
I think there should be a new law made that prevents stores and restaurants and banks and any other public place from hanging balloons within eye sight of any one under the age of five. And if they do have helium balloons floating around they should at least, by law, have to give some to the toddlers that see those balloons.
And in a effort to improve public safety, I think that it should be forbidden for car dealerships to hang balloons on their premises. Because drivers can become distracted by the incessant whining of or the repetitive chant of "Ba-yoons, Ba-yoons" from the smaller passengers in the car.
It would also help reduce car insurance costs because the drivers of those cars would not be as likley drive off a cliff.
And in a effort to improve public safety, I think that it should be forbidden for car dealerships to hang balloons on their premises. Because drivers can become distracted by the incessant whining of or the repetitive chant of "Ba-yoons, Ba-yoons" from the smaller passengers in the car.
It would also help reduce car insurance costs because the drivers of those cars would not be as likley drive off a cliff.
Sunday, May 11, 2008
That creepy guy on the bus
This past Friday was opening night for the theater production of The Philadelphia Story which I have been rehearsing for the past few months. We had a great turn out and the show went pretty well.
I was lucky and honored that some local fellow bloggers came out to see the show and support me and the theater company. The bloggers that came to see the show were people I have never met before Friday night. I only know them from their blogs and the comments that they leave here, or at other blogs I may read or follow. They only know me from this blog and the comments I leave throughout the blogosphere.
I knew that they were all coming to see the show and they were going to hang around afterward so we could actually meet and talk for a bit. I was a little excited, worried and nervous because as my friend Susan said, "It's kind of like a blind date."
I was excited to meet these people who, over the past few years, I have taken a vested interest in their lives and stories via their blogs.
I was nervous because I also knew that what they read here, on a regular basis, may not translate well in a face to face setting.
I was worried due to the typical stigma of "stalker" or that "creepy person" that is attached to people meeting online or via the internet.
To use a theater term, the fourth wall is being removed.
I really enjoyed meeting Sharkey and her husband JP, Mainline Mom and her husband, Sue and Charlotte (their blog just went underground) and Teri the Family Tree Junkie. I have known of these people for years and now I finally got to meet them.
Thank you guys for coming out to the show.
I was lucky and honored that some local fellow bloggers came out to see the show and support me and the theater company. The bloggers that came to see the show were people I have never met before Friday night. I only know them from their blogs and the comments that they leave here, or at other blogs I may read or follow. They only know me from this blog and the comments I leave throughout the blogosphere.
I knew that they were all coming to see the show and they were going to hang around afterward so we could actually meet and talk for a bit. I was a little excited, worried and nervous because as my friend Susan said, "It's kind of like a blind date."
I was excited to meet these people who, over the past few years, I have taken a vested interest in their lives and stories via their blogs.
I was nervous because I also knew that what they read here, on a regular basis, may not translate well in a face to face setting.
I was worried due to the typical stigma of "stalker" or that "creepy person" that is attached to people meeting online or via the internet.
To use a theater term, the fourth wall is being removed.
I really enjoyed meeting Sharkey and her husband JP, Mainline Mom and her husband, Sue and Charlotte (their blog just went underground) and Teri the Family Tree Junkie. I have known of these people for years and now I finally got to meet them.
Thank you guys for coming out to the show.
There is an old saying that goes something like this, "There is always one creepy or weird person on the bus."
Then there is the saying that follows that one: "When you get on the bus, look around, if you don't see the creepy or weird person that means it most likely is probably you."
Well I must say that meeting these bloggers set my mind at ease. As I talked to each one of them I realized that not one of them was creepy or weird...
Hey wait a minute...
Thursday, May 08, 2008
Fletch Moment
The greatest movie of my teenage and young adult years was Fletch, starring Chevy Chase. My friends and I watched it every weekend. We knew the movie forward and backwards. We uttered every line of dialogue while watching and often quoted the film whenever we could.
We challenged each other to use lines from the movie in our normal conversations at work or at school or just anywhere really. The challenge was that the line had to fit into the conversation. You could not just throw a quote out haphazardly. Some of the lines are more difficult to include in everyday conversation than others. For instance, it is very difficult to include "What kind of name is Poon?" into a normal talk.
However, I use, all the time, whenever I see my wife wrapped in a towel after the shower, "May I borrow your towel. My car just hit a water buffalo." It works. This is an easy one.
The more random the quote and the more degree of difficulty the better the accolades we received from each other.
Every now and then I will get a phone call from my friends Tobes or Rob or someone else just for the sole purpose of telling me they used a "difficult" or random Fletch quote.
Yesterday I was on the phone making an appoinment with an eye doctor. The receptionist asked me for the normal information such as name, address, DOB etc. She then asked me who my regular physician was.
I had a Fletch moment.
"Dr. Rosenpenis."
She paused. "Dr. who?" She asked again
"Dr. Rosen rosen."
"Who?"
"Dr. Rosen." I then silently congratulated myself and told her my real doctor.
What Movies do you quote on a regular basis?
We challenged each other to use lines from the movie in our normal conversations at work or at school or just anywhere really. The challenge was that the line had to fit into the conversation. You could not just throw a quote out haphazardly. Some of the lines are more difficult to include in everyday conversation than others. For instance, it is very difficult to include "What kind of name is Poon?" into a normal talk.
However, I use, all the time, whenever I see my wife wrapped in a towel after the shower, "May I borrow your towel. My car just hit a water buffalo." It works. This is an easy one.
The more random the quote and the more degree of difficulty the better the accolades we received from each other.
Every now and then I will get a phone call from my friends Tobes or Rob or someone else just for the sole purpose of telling me they used a "difficult" or random Fletch quote.
Yesterday I was on the phone making an appoinment with an eye doctor. The receptionist asked me for the normal information such as name, address, DOB etc. She then asked me who my regular physician was.
I had a Fletch moment.
"Dr. Rosenpenis."
She paused. "Dr. who?" She asked again
"Dr. Rosen rosen."
"Who?"
"Dr. Rosen." I then silently congratulated myself and told her my real doctor.
What Movies do you quote on a regular basis?
Tuesday, May 06, 2008
A day at the Races
Buying a gift for my Dad was always difficult. He never really wanted or needed anything. Most times we, his sons, would get him something that we knew we could steal from him in the near future. Like, maybe, a power tool we knew we would need. Or maybe a sweatshirt that he could add to his 50 other sweatshirts that we could later secretly take from his closet and never return. We called it vict-ing, which was late 80’s slang for stealing.
I don’t know how many times I would see one of my brothers in a nice jacket or pull-over and I would ask, “Where did you get that?” And the response was always, “I vict it from dad?”
Some years we would chip in and get something big. Or some years, depending on what day of the week his birthday fell on, we would all get together at the Philadelphia Park Race Track and give him money for betting the ponies.
One of those days was May 7th either 1994 or 1995. I am not sure which year but it had to be a Saturday or Sunday because most of my brothers were there. I remember it as a day that my dad could not stop laughing.
It is no secret in my family that I get most of my genes and looks from my mom’s side of the family. The rest of my siblings look more like my dad's side. I was always called Rocky’s son, after our mailman Rocco. While we were at the track I was taking some good-natured ribbing from my brother’s about how I was not part of the family. At one point one of my brothers mentioned how my beard made me look like my mom’s brother Buddy.
My dad laughed. “You really do look like your mom’s family.” He said.
“Well that is because of my facial hair.” I said. “And if Pat had a beard he would look like Uncle Tim. And if John had a moustache he would look like any one of mom’s sisters.”
Up until that time, I have never heard my dad laugh as hard as he did right then. His head tilted back and he roared. The entire place turned to see what was causing the commotion. It took him several minutes to recover. And from that moment and for the rest of the day he laughed at everything we said and did.
The conversations eventually changed to other topics, like sports, horses, beer and chicks . We covered the gamut. We laughed at everything. It was not a day of a father hanging out with his sons. For me it was a bunch of guys, equals, friends, hanging out and enjoying the day.
His day.
You look like a monkey and you smell like one too.
I don’t know how many times I would see one of my brothers in a nice jacket or pull-over and I would ask, “Where did you get that?” And the response was always, “I vict it from dad?”
Some years we would chip in and get something big. Or some years, depending on what day of the week his birthday fell on, we would all get together at the Philadelphia Park Race Track and give him money for betting the ponies.
One of those days was May 7th either 1994 or 1995. I am not sure which year but it had to be a Saturday or Sunday because most of my brothers were there. I remember it as a day that my dad could not stop laughing.
It is no secret in my family that I get most of my genes and looks from my mom’s side of the family. The rest of my siblings look more like my dad's side. I was always called Rocky’s son, after our mailman Rocco. While we were at the track I was taking some good-natured ribbing from my brother’s about how I was not part of the family. At one point one of my brothers mentioned how my beard made me look like my mom’s brother Buddy.
My dad laughed. “You really do look like your mom’s family.” He said.
“Well that is because of my facial hair.” I said. “And if Pat had a beard he would look like Uncle Tim. And if John had a moustache he would look like any one of mom’s sisters.”
Up until that time, I have never heard my dad laugh as hard as he did right then. His head tilted back and he roared. The entire place turned to see what was causing the commotion. It took him several minutes to recover. And from that moment and for the rest of the day he laughed at everything we said and did.
The conversations eventually changed to other topics, like sports, horses, beer and chicks . We covered the gamut. We laughed at everything. It was not a day of a father hanging out with his sons. For me it was a bunch of guys, equals, friends, hanging out and enjoying the day.
His day.
You look like a monkey and you smell like one too.
Monday, May 05, 2008
My conversation with Oprah
December of 1997 I was managing a private nightclub in Philly. A group of out-of-towners approached the door looking to be admitted without membership. One of the guys told me (I think his name was Scott) he was working as an assistant director on a film. I thought he was just conning me in an attempt to get into the club. I told him I would let him in but only if he could get me on the set of the film. I gave him my phone number and I admitted his group, waiving any cover charge or fees. I figured I would never hear from him.
Three days later I received a phone call from costuming (not Scott) asking me to come in for a fitting. I went. After the fitting they told me to show up the next day to the set on 3rd Street, between Market and Church St. I went.
The movie takes place in the late 1860s. They dressed me in a period costume, gave me a handful of cigars and told me to stand in front of some steps and smoke the cigars. This was December and it was pretty cold and damp and the costume was pretty thin and flimsy. I was freezing. I stood there for hours while they did take after take of wide shots of the street with the crowds of people. Every now and then someone would get me coffee.
After about hour 5 I really had to pee. They took a break to reset the cameras and I asked if I could use the restroom. When I returned to my spot in front of the steps there was a buzz of activity around my steps. There were set designers spraying fake soot and fake dog pee (I am not kidding) on the fake snow. They were setting up lights and Jonathan Demme the director turned towards me and said, “Good. You’re back.”
He then said something to an assistant director and the AD came over to talk to me. The AD explained the shot and they wanted me to puff on the cigar because the smoke added to the look of the shot. He also told me to make sure that the cigar stayed the same length for consistency’s sake. So basically in between takes I would need to light another cigar and smoke it down to the right size.
I was thrilled that Jonathan Demme, who directed Silence of the Lambs, one of my favorite films, was including me in the shot. That was when the “buzz” around the steps got louder. The next thing I know I am standing next to Oprah Winfrey. I tried to introduce myself, but hair and makeup people surrounded her. Demme and Oprah talked for a few minutes about the shot, Oprah was going to be walking down the street in front of me. Oprah walked up the sidewalk about ten feet away from me. We were at places.
I knew there would be several takes. I knew it would take a while to film. There were going to be several occasions for Oprah and I to talk. I was planning something witty to say. In my mind she would laugh, she would find me fascinating. She was going to discover me. I would become big time.
Somewhere around take # 8, while the cameras were resetting, I was lighting another cigar and Oprah, standing ten feet away from me, said, “Excuse me. What’s your name?”
This was it. This was my moment. Oprah was going to engage me in conversation. I was going to be a star. “Bill.” I responded.
“Well Bill.” Oprah addressed me. “Could you PLEASE, stop blowing that smoke in my face? It is making me sick.”
“I’m sorry.” I said. “The director wanted me to keep…”
She cut me off. She called over the director and they spoke in hushed tones. But I watched Oprah point to me and say, “That thing really stinks.”
I hope she was referring to the cigar.
Three days later I received a phone call from costuming (not Scott) asking me to come in for a fitting. I went. After the fitting they told me to show up the next day to the set on 3rd Street, between Market and Church St. I went.
The movie takes place in the late 1860s. They dressed me in a period costume, gave me a handful of cigars and told me to stand in front of some steps and smoke the cigars. This was December and it was pretty cold and damp and the costume was pretty thin and flimsy. I was freezing. I stood there for hours while they did take after take of wide shots of the street with the crowds of people. Every now and then someone would get me coffee.
After about hour 5 I really had to pee. They took a break to reset the cameras and I asked if I could use the restroom. When I returned to my spot in front of the steps there was a buzz of activity around my steps. There were set designers spraying fake soot and fake dog pee (I am not kidding) on the fake snow. They were setting up lights and Jonathan Demme the director turned towards me and said, “Good. You’re back.”
He then said something to an assistant director and the AD came over to talk to me. The AD explained the shot and they wanted me to puff on the cigar because the smoke added to the look of the shot. He also told me to make sure that the cigar stayed the same length for consistency’s sake. So basically in between takes I would need to light another cigar and smoke it down to the right size.
I was thrilled that Jonathan Demme, who directed Silence of the Lambs, one of my favorite films, was including me in the shot. That was when the “buzz” around the steps got louder. The next thing I know I am standing next to Oprah Winfrey. I tried to introduce myself, but hair and makeup people surrounded her. Demme and Oprah talked for a few minutes about the shot, Oprah was going to be walking down the street in front of me. Oprah walked up the sidewalk about ten feet away from me. We were at places.
I knew there would be several takes. I knew it would take a while to film. There were going to be several occasions for Oprah and I to talk. I was planning something witty to say. In my mind she would laugh, she would find me fascinating. She was going to discover me. I would become big time.
Somewhere around take # 8, while the cameras were resetting, I was lighting another cigar and Oprah, standing ten feet away from me, said, “Excuse me. What’s your name?”
This was it. This was my moment. Oprah was going to engage me in conversation. I was going to be a star. “Bill.” I responded.
“Well Bill.” Oprah addressed me. “Could you PLEASE, stop blowing that smoke in my face? It is making me sick.”
“I’m sorry.” I said. “The director wanted me to keep…”
She cut me off. She called over the director and they spoke in hushed tones. But I watched Oprah point to me and say, “That thing really stinks.”
I hope she was referring to the cigar.
Saturday, May 03, 2008
Links
I read Gina's blog on a regular basis. In her latest post she wrote that her mom was starting a blog to chronicle her treatment for cancer.
I know that my friend Dave loved all the feedback he got from his blog and enjoyed using the internet as a source of encouragement when he was undergoing treatment. Especially when he was too tired or could not talk he could always surf.
Go to Gina's mom's Blog, Team Tina, and offer her your encouragement and prayers. Besides her header is a really cute and you may want to take her home and stick her in your garden.
I know that my friend Dave loved all the feedback he got from his blog and enjoyed using the internet as a source of encouragement when he was undergoing treatment. Especially when he was too tired or could not talk he could always surf.
Go to Gina's mom's Blog, Team Tina, and offer her your encouragement and prayers. Besides her header is a really cute and you may want to take her home and stick her in your garden.
Friday, May 02, 2008
Go Go
I am not sure of the exact details of the story but it goes something like this.
Two miles from my house, on one of the major roads, is a Go-Go joint. It has been there for many, many years. It used to sit by itself without too much around it; just a few mom and pop local businesses were its neighbors. About 10 or so years ago a huge track of land was sold and was developed to include a Lowes, a Target, a T.G.I. Fridays and the likes.
At that time, the township, with all the new tenants, decided that the Go-Go joint’s neon sign of a silhouette of a woman was too offensive. The township council demanded that the owner remove the sign. The owner argued that the sign was there for years and questioned why, now, did they find the sign offensive. He also argued that sign was what drew attention to his business. They claimed the sign was an eye sore. The township, I am sure, were trying to impress the corporations of Target and others in having the sign removed. Or more likely some corporate big wig complained to the township.
The township council passed an ordinance that would make the sign illegal without any type of “grandfather” clause. The Go-Go owner argued that the sign was art (a stretch) and it was also freedom of speech. The township made him remove the sign with the threat of revoking his business license. The Go-Go owner, feeling like he was the little guy, the underdog, being squeezed out by the big corporate lawyers, decided not to take the township to court. He did not have the money for a long drawn out court case. But he did have the money for this, which is totally legal.
Do you think the township considers this an eye sore? Every time I drive by I have to laugh. The Go-Go owner has some guts to be able to stick it to "the Man" like this and I appreciate it.
But what makes me chuckle like a 13 year old, every time I drive by is the name of the cross road where the go-go joint is located.
I find it appropriate.
Two miles from my house, on one of the major roads, is a Go-Go joint. It has been there for many, many years. It used to sit by itself without too much around it; just a few mom and pop local businesses were its neighbors. About 10 or so years ago a huge track of land was sold and was developed to include a Lowes, a Target, a T.G.I. Fridays and the likes.
At that time, the township, with all the new tenants, decided that the Go-Go joint’s neon sign of a silhouette of a woman was too offensive. The township council demanded that the owner remove the sign. The owner argued that the sign was there for years and questioned why, now, did they find the sign offensive. He also argued that sign was what drew attention to his business. They claimed the sign was an eye sore. The township, I am sure, were trying to impress the corporations of Target and others in having the sign removed. Or more likely some corporate big wig complained to the township.
The township council passed an ordinance that would make the sign illegal without any type of “grandfather” clause. The Go-Go owner argued that the sign was art (a stretch) and it was also freedom of speech. The township made him remove the sign with the threat of revoking his business license. The Go-Go owner, feeling like he was the little guy, the underdog, being squeezed out by the big corporate lawyers, decided not to take the township to court. He did not have the money for a long drawn out court case. But he did have the money for this, which is totally legal.
Do you think the township considers this an eye sore? Every time I drive by I have to laugh. The Go-Go owner has some guts to be able to stick it to "the Man" like this and I appreciate it.But what makes me chuckle like a 13 year old, every time I drive by is the name of the cross road where the go-go joint is located.
I find it appropriate.
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
American Idol made me miss my dad
Last night I settled down on the couch with a bag of Cheetos and vodka on the rocks to watch the DVR'd American Idol. I did not realize it would cause me to cry.
American Idol contestants were performing Neil Diamond songs. I had flashbacks to 1981 when the only album that was played in our house was the Jazz Singer. I think we all knew all the words to every song on that album thanks to my mom constantly playing the record.
My flashback last night consisted of a vivid memory of my dad singing his own version of "Love on the Rocks".
Apparently at the time that the Jazz Singer was playing in our house my mom must have had some back or neck issues.
My dad's lyrics were:
Love on the rocks
Ain't no surprise
Rubbing Ben-Gay on my wife's neck
Really burns my eyes.
My dad could not carry a tune but he was a funny guy.
I miss him.
American Idol contestants were performing Neil Diamond songs. I had flashbacks to 1981 when the only album that was played in our house was the Jazz Singer. I think we all knew all the words to every song on that album thanks to my mom constantly playing the record.
My flashback last night consisted of a vivid memory of my dad singing his own version of "Love on the Rocks".
Apparently at the time that the Jazz Singer was playing in our house my mom must have had some back or neck issues.
My dad's lyrics were:
Love on the rocks
Ain't no surprise
Rubbing Ben-Gay on my wife's neck
Really burns my eyes.
My dad could not carry a tune but he was a funny guy.
I miss him.
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Turn the Corner
Maxfield, over the past few weeks, has really been coming into his own as a person. His tantrums are fewer and far between. He responds to questions and requests after only the third time being asked as opposed to the old 8 or 9 times being asked. He is more creative with his playtime and he is becoming more independent. He now initiates conversations on his own and does not need to be prodded to have a discussion. He is growing into a very sweet young boy.
Last night Lauren and I were discussing the boys and Max’s progress. She said, “Max has really turned a corner with his behavior. He is so sweet. Wyatt however has turned a completely different corner.”
I had to laugh.
Wyatt is now in spring training for the terrible twos. He is taking his training camp very seriously, well, because practice makes perfect. He has been working diligently at his screaming technique. He also has perfected the “collapse to the floor in a sobbing heap bang his head on the floor in the process only to scream louder because now his head hurts” fit. He does need to improve his method of preventing us from getting him into his car seat. Right now his body goes rigid like 2 by 4 and he makes it impossible for us to buckle the safety straps but he is easily distracted and eventually we get him in his seat. Wyatt also need some work on his “NO!” delivery. It comes out crystal clear but his overall consistency and frequency of use is not quite there yet.
It’s okay he still has about six weeks until he turns two so he has plenty of time to work on it.
Last night Lauren and I were discussing the boys and Max’s progress. She said, “Max has really turned a corner with his behavior. He is so sweet. Wyatt however has turned a completely different corner.”
I had to laugh.
Wyatt is now in spring training for the terrible twos. He is taking his training camp very seriously, well, because practice makes perfect. He has been working diligently at his screaming technique. He also has perfected the “collapse to the floor in a sobbing heap bang his head on the floor in the process only to scream louder because now his head hurts” fit. He does need to improve his method of preventing us from getting him into his car seat. Right now his body goes rigid like 2 by 4 and he makes it impossible for us to buckle the safety straps but he is easily distracted and eventually we get him in his seat. Wyatt also need some work on his “NO!” delivery. It comes out crystal clear but his overall consistency and frequency of use is not quite there yet.
It’s okay he still has about six weeks until he turns two so he has plenty of time to work on it.
Thursday, April 24, 2008
I just think..
...that if a company like Softsoap is going to make a watemelon scented hand soap that smells so strong of watermelon Jolly Ranchers, than they should at least make the soap so that it tastes like watermelon.
Yes, I know it does not tastes like watermelon. I have tried it.
The worst part of it is, every now and again, when I am washing my hands, the watermelon scent grabs a hold of me and I will taste the soap again just to see if it has magically changed to taste like watermelon candy.
Yes, I know it does not tastes like watermelon. I have tried it.
The worst part of it is, every now and again, when I am washing my hands, the watermelon scent grabs a hold of me and I will taste the soap again just to see if it has magically changed to taste like watermelon candy.
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
Hello China
Lauren went to the gym and I was left with the boys. I put them to work digging up an old clothes line post.
We got carried away.
Really carried away.
We got carried away.
Really carried away.
We did not make it to China.
You should see the ring around our bathtub.
Monday, April 21, 2008
Age Appropriate
I think the Age Appropriate marking on toy packages are a direct correlation to the amount of days it takes a child to either break it or totally lose interest in the toy.
If the toy is marked "For Ages 4+". That means in four days the toy will be useless.
So maybe they should change the packaging to reflect to Days Appropriate.
If the toy is marked "For Ages 4+". That means in four days the toy will be useless.
So maybe they should change the packaging to reflect to Days Appropriate.
Friday, April 18, 2008
Henry The Explorer
When I was in second grade, my favorite book, actually it was a series of books, was Henry the Explorer by Mark Taylor and Graham Booth. The way I remember, there were three or so books about Henry and his dog Angus and their exploring adventures. Each week, on Library day, I would bring home one of the Henry books and ask my mom to read it to me, over and over again. I don’t think I ever checked-out another book by another author. I only read about Henry.
In each book Henry would pack his backpack with various necessities such as a flashlight, a sandwich, a bone for his dog and some other stuff. He also always packed a bunch of little yellow flags with a red letter “H”. As he explored he would use his flags to claim his discoveries. Henry would eventually get lost and then need to follow his flags back to his house.
I remember my mom making me exploring kits on the weekends, complete with yellow flags with a red “B”, so I could explore the neighborhood and the woods down the street from our house. I would be gone for the better part of the day. I remember exploring the freshly dug foundations of the new housing development on Silvestri farms and claiming each new house as mine. My brother Jim now lives in one of those houses and I don’t think he realizes that his house is actually mine. He probably doesn’t realize that I probably peed in his basement (that was just last week ((I kid)).
Recently I became aware of two books, Dangerous Book for Boys and Last Child in the Woods that have brought up the issue of today’s parents being overprotective of our kids. That today’s children do not get out into nature enough nor is there enough “natural play”, pretending, and creativity when it comes to a child’s free time. I have heard the authors interviewed on different radio programs and one of them mentioned that the parent’s fear of their child getting hurt is actually making our children weaker. Our fear as parents is making our kids afraid.
I know that I sometimes fall into the category of being an over protective parent. Lauren and I have talked about this a few times but our children are still very young. We make efforts to get them outside, to skim rocks and hike and explore the outdoors.
In each book Henry would pack his backpack with various necessities such as a flashlight, a sandwich, a bone for his dog and some other stuff. He also always packed a bunch of little yellow flags with a red letter “H”. As he explored he would use his flags to claim his discoveries. Henry would eventually get lost and then need to follow his flags back to his house.
I remember my mom making me exploring kits on the weekends, complete with yellow flags with a red “B”, so I could explore the neighborhood and the woods down the street from our house. I would be gone for the better part of the day. I remember exploring the freshly dug foundations of the new housing development on Silvestri farms and claiming each new house as mine. My brother Jim now lives in one of those houses and I don’t think he realizes that his house is actually mine. He probably doesn’t realize that I probably peed in his basement (that was just last week ((I kid)).
Recently I became aware of two books, Dangerous Book for Boys and Last Child in the Woods that have brought up the issue of today’s parents being overprotective of our kids. That today’s children do not get out into nature enough nor is there enough “natural play”, pretending, and creativity when it comes to a child’s free time. I have heard the authors interviewed on different radio programs and one of them mentioned that the parent’s fear of their child getting hurt is actually making our children weaker. Our fear as parents is making our kids afraid.
I know that I sometimes fall into the category of being an over protective parent. Lauren and I have talked about this a few times but our children are still very young. We make efforts to get them outside, to skim rocks and hike and explore the outdoors.
But I can also see a time in our near future where we are busy carting them off to Little League and soccer, where the scores don’t matter and even the worst teams get trophies and everyone is a winner. Is this good for our children?
What are your thoughts?
Nilbo posted a great piece about this today.
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
Hunter Gatherer with a Bonus Card.
I do about 90% of the food shopping for our house. I do not really look at it as a chore but more of my responsibility as man of the house. That may seem old fashioned or maybe somewhat chauvinistic but I think it is a something genetic. Maybe a gene that goes back to the time of the Neanderthal.
After a decent shopping trip I used to come home and Lauren would help me put the groceries away. I would use that time to show her all the good stuff I purchased. I would be happy with a “buy one get one free deal” or I would be proud of the fact that I remembered to pick up Parmesan cheese even though it was not on the list. She would compliment me with a “Great. That was good deal.” Or “Oh thank you I forgot we needed that.” It would give me the satisfaction of a job well done. It was my little reward ceremony, like the cavemen had for bringing home the big game, but without the bonfires and drumming. And although I do consider it my job and my responsibility it is nice to receive some recognition. I also know that I don’t thank my wife nearly enough for doing her part in raising the kids and keeping the house together.
Lately I do most of my shopping at night, after the kids go to bed. I may not get home until 10pm and by that time Lauren is already in bed. I put the groceries away myself and I have to wait until the morning to brag about my purchases. Usually the next morning I forget about one of the great deals and it may be a day or two after when Lauren will say something like, “I saw that you got yogurt. Thanks.” Shopping at night takes a bit of the reward out of the whole experience.
Shopping at night has put a damper on my inner caveman. There is no instant satisfaction of a coming home from the hunt. I am now officially putting in a request to my wife to have her and the kids at least do some crude wall drawings in our dining room of me holding a coupon and a shopping cart staring down a bag of Doritos.
After a decent shopping trip I used to come home and Lauren would help me put the groceries away. I would use that time to show her all the good stuff I purchased. I would be happy with a “buy one get one free deal” or I would be proud of the fact that I remembered to pick up Parmesan cheese even though it was not on the list. She would compliment me with a “Great. That was good deal.” Or “Oh thank you I forgot we needed that.” It would give me the satisfaction of a job well done. It was my little reward ceremony, like the cavemen had for bringing home the big game, but without the bonfires and drumming. And although I do consider it my job and my responsibility it is nice to receive some recognition. I also know that I don’t thank my wife nearly enough for doing her part in raising the kids and keeping the house together.
Lately I do most of my shopping at night, after the kids go to bed. I may not get home until 10pm and by that time Lauren is already in bed. I put the groceries away myself and I have to wait until the morning to brag about my purchases. Usually the next morning I forget about one of the great deals and it may be a day or two after when Lauren will say something like, “I saw that you got yogurt. Thanks.” Shopping at night takes a bit of the reward out of the whole experience.
Shopping at night has put a damper on my inner caveman. There is no instant satisfaction of a coming home from the hunt. I am now officially putting in a request to my wife to have her and the kids at least do some crude wall drawings in our dining room of me holding a coupon and a shopping cart staring down a bag of Doritos.
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
I Could Have Been a Contender Part 3
I have written here and here about how I blame my siblings for me not meeting my full potential of being a huge sports star or an Academy Award winning actor.
After the Headless Horseman debacle it took me a few years to recover before I decided that theater was the avenue for me to take in an effort to be noticed. My freshman year in high school I decided to audition (not “try-out” see the whole play practice/rehearsal post here) for the fall play “All My Sons” by Arthur Miller. I remember during the audition sitting with my friend CharLynn and asking her for pointers. She had performed in various shows in middle school and was the only person I actually knew at the audition. The director called my name, I went up and read the lines and he immediately cast me in the show. I nailed the audition. The director could clearly see the talent in front of him. Actually, there were six male roles to fill and only five males auditioned, but that did not make any difference, I was very excited to be doing something no one else in my family had done. I was going to be in a play. I was cast in the small role of Frank, who was played by Harry Morgan (Colonel Potter from MASH) in the original broadway production. A small role, but still a role.
I remember my mom and dad being very happy for me. I did not realize at the time that the fact that I was going to be a thespian would hurt my street-cred in school as well with my brothers. Being in plays was not really considered the cool thing to do. I was mocked. I was teased. But I was having a good time. I met my friend’s Susan and Caren during this show and we are still friends 20 plus years later.
When it came time for opening night I remember I had a difficult time convincing my siblings to come to the show. The show nights conflicted with Basketball games and part time jobs and making-out with Nancy W. Arthur Miller was not known for his slapstick comedies so I could understand the hesitation. I am sure my mom forced some of them to come see me perform but for the most part it was a light turn out. But I had fun. I was a star. I was the favorite son for a weekend.
The springtime show in my freshman year was “Grease”. It was going to have the same director as “All My Sons” and he asked me to audition. The director asked me to audition and with the male turn out of the last audition I was guaranteed a good role. Little did I realize that “Grease” was (and is) a very popular show. Almost every male and their brother auditioned for the musical.
Including my brother Kevin.
Guess who got cast as Danny Zuko the lead role in the musical? Danny Zuko who was played by John Travolta in the movie. That’s right, my brother Kevin. I was cast as part of the chorus AKA the wallflower. Granted Kevin was a senior and I was a freshman. It was a musical and Kevin could sing really well. I on the other hand sounded like Peter Brady hitting puberty (hell I was just about hitting puberty at that time). Kevin could dance. He knew the "Hand Jive". I moved like I was having a Grand Mal Seizure. Kevin deserved the part. He was good. Damn good.
Here, I thought theater was going to bring me recognition. But, no. Kevin literally, stole my spotlight. I was crushed. I was Harry Morgan and he was John Travolta.
But did Kevin lose street-cred? Was he mocked or teased? No. Did anyone make up an excuse not to go see him in the show? No.
At first I was bitter, but as the show progressed a couple of good things came out of it.
I got to hang out with my brother Kevin and a bunch of seniors.
Kevin made being involved in theater a cool thing to do.
And during the song Beauty School Dropout, a few nights a week, to a packed auditorium of parents and students, I got to yell "Hooker".
After the Headless Horseman debacle it took me a few years to recover before I decided that theater was the avenue for me to take in an effort to be noticed. My freshman year in high school I decided to audition (not “try-out” see the whole play practice/rehearsal post here) for the fall play “All My Sons” by Arthur Miller. I remember during the audition sitting with my friend CharLynn and asking her for pointers. She had performed in various shows in middle school and was the only person I actually knew at the audition. The director called my name, I went up and read the lines and he immediately cast me in the show. I nailed the audition. The director could clearly see the talent in front of him. Actually, there were six male roles to fill and only five males auditioned, but that did not make any difference, I was very excited to be doing something no one else in my family had done. I was going to be in a play. I was cast in the small role of Frank, who was played by Harry Morgan (Colonel Potter from MASH) in the original broadway production. A small role, but still a role.
I remember my mom and dad being very happy for me. I did not realize at the time that the fact that I was going to be a thespian would hurt my street-cred in school as well with my brothers. Being in plays was not really considered the cool thing to do. I was mocked. I was teased. But I was having a good time. I met my friend’s Susan and Caren during this show and we are still friends 20 plus years later.
When it came time for opening night I remember I had a difficult time convincing my siblings to come to the show. The show nights conflicted with Basketball games and part time jobs and making-out with Nancy W. Arthur Miller was not known for his slapstick comedies so I could understand the hesitation. I am sure my mom forced some of them to come see me perform but for the most part it was a light turn out. But I had fun. I was a star. I was the favorite son for a weekend.
The springtime show in my freshman year was “Grease”. It was going to have the same director as “All My Sons” and he asked me to audition. The director asked me to audition and with the male turn out of the last audition I was guaranteed a good role. Little did I realize that “Grease” was (and is) a very popular show. Almost every male and their brother auditioned for the musical.
Including my brother Kevin.
Guess who got cast as Danny Zuko the lead role in the musical? Danny Zuko who was played by John Travolta in the movie. That’s right, my brother Kevin. I was cast as part of the chorus AKA the wallflower. Granted Kevin was a senior and I was a freshman. It was a musical and Kevin could sing really well. I on the other hand sounded like Peter Brady hitting puberty (hell I was just about hitting puberty at that time). Kevin could dance. He knew the "Hand Jive". I moved like I was having a Grand Mal Seizure. Kevin deserved the part. He was good. Damn good.
Here, I thought theater was going to bring me recognition. But, no. Kevin literally, stole my spotlight. I was crushed. I was Harry Morgan and he was John Travolta.
But did Kevin lose street-cred? Was he mocked or teased? No. Did anyone make up an excuse not to go see him in the show? No.
At first I was bitter, but as the show progressed a couple of good things came out of it.
I got to hang out with my brother Kevin and a bunch of seniors.
Kevin made being involved in theater a cool thing to do.
And during the song Beauty School Dropout, a few nights a week, to a packed auditorium of parents and students, I got to yell "Hooker".
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Beat Box
My kid's new favorite show is Yo Gabba Gabba. Every time I watch the show I can't help but think that someone watched Dee Lite's Groove Is In The Heart video and thought, "Wow. This would make a great kids television show."
The show takes place in a play world where five miniature toys come to life. The five toys, to me at least, resemble some of the monsters from the Ultra Man , Johnny Sokko and his Flying Robot, and the Space Giants TV shows from the 70's.
The show claims that it is about "life-lessons with a beat."
They have special guests in each episode that includes the likes of Tony Hawk, Elijah Wood, and Biz Markie ( Oh baybeee, Yoooo Got what I need).
Biz Markie does the segment Biz's Beat of the Day where he teaches kids Beatboxing. My son Wyatt, who is not even two years old yet, has become quite the beatboxer.
I am not sure what life-lessons he has learned but he sure has got the whole vocal percussion thing down.
The show takes place in a play world where five miniature toys come to life. The five toys, to me at least, resemble some of the monsters from the Ultra Man , Johnny Sokko and his Flying Robot, and the Space Giants TV shows from the 70's.
The show claims that it is about "life-lessons with a beat."
They have special guests in each episode that includes the likes of Tony Hawk, Elijah Wood, and Biz Markie ( Oh baybeee, Yoooo Got what I need).
Biz Markie does the segment Biz's Beat of the Day where he teaches kids Beatboxing. My son Wyatt, who is not even two years old yet, has become quite the beatboxer.
I am not sure what life-lessons he has learned but he sure has got the whole vocal percussion thing down.
Tuesday, April 08, 2008
Payback
Last week I wrote about older brothers getting payback
on their little brothers. This is just the start.
Wyatt climbed in on his own but Max was very quick to lock the door and laugh at him.
on their little brothers. This is just the start.
Wyatt climbed in on his own but Max was very quick to lock the door and laugh at him.
Monday, April 07, 2008
Injury Timeout
Wyatt, Maxfield and I were playing a game when the the two of them went down. As they fell their heads collided. I winced just observing the collision and I could see that Lauren was upset by how hard they hit.
There was a moment of quiet and calm.
Then Wyatt stood up.
His face all scrunched up and he started to wail. His screams were loud.
"That, was not good." Said Lauren as I picked up Wyatt and she looked over Max who was holding his face as he lay on the floor. Max was okay.
I was trying to see any bumps on Wyatt's face but he was crying so hard his face was red and purple.
Then his nose started bleeding. A lot.
We packed on the paper towel and ice (as much as a 22 month old injured boy would allow anyway) and we eventually stopped the bleeding. The promise of and Ice pop quieted him down enough to get a better look. A broken nose is too diffcult to see unless it is really broken but Wyatt seemed okay.
We decided to take a break from the game we were playing.
Guess what game we were playing?
Guess?
It was the most violent game of Ring Around the Rosie I have ever played.
There was a moment of quiet and calm.
Then Wyatt stood up.
His face all scrunched up and he started to wail. His screams were loud.
"That, was not good." Said Lauren as I picked up Wyatt and she looked over Max who was holding his face as he lay on the floor. Max was okay.
I was trying to see any bumps on Wyatt's face but he was crying so hard his face was red and purple.
Then his nose started bleeding. A lot.
We packed on the paper towel and ice (as much as a 22 month old injured boy would allow anyway) and we eventually stopped the bleeding. The promise of and Ice pop quieted him down enough to get a better look. A broken nose is too diffcult to see unless it is really broken but Wyatt seemed okay.
We decided to take a break from the game we were playing.
Guess what game we were playing?
Guess?
It was the most violent game of Ring Around the Rosie I have ever played.
Friday, April 04, 2008
Father's Night
Last night was Father's Night at Maxfield's school.
These are the highlights from the evening.
Watching Max and his friend Nicholas discuss episodes of the Spectacular Spiderman and Max singing the theme song from the 1960's Spiderman cartoon for anyone who would listen.
When the teacher went around taking pictures of the dads and their kids for a project, (the kids made frames) Max and I made funny faces at the teacher. She told us that in her 15 years plus of teaching she has never had a picture like that.
These are the highlights from the evening.
Watching Max and his friend Nicholas discuss episodes of the Spectacular Spiderman and Max singing the theme song from the 1960's Spiderman cartoon for anyone who would listen.
When the teacher went around taking pictures of the dads and their kids for a project, (the kids made frames) Max and I made funny faces at the teacher. She told us that in her 15 years plus of teaching she has never had a picture like that.
Ice Cream Sundaes.
Max was running in the class room and the teacher corrected him. My jaw hit the floor as Max apologized and did exactly as the teacher instructed. That does not happen at my house.
Laying on the floor to read a book to Max and playing a game of "Steamroller" instead.
The teacher was reading a book to everyone about Dads. She would read the page, "My Dad can jump over the moon and can walk a tightrope." She would then ask the class, "Can your dad do that?"
Max would yell "My Dad can."
She read, "My dad is fast and run faster than the wind." She would ask the class. "Can your dad do that?"
Max would yell. "My Dad can."
He responded "My Dad can" to every question.
The teacher read, "My Dad is so strong he can wrestle Giants. Can your dad do that?"
Max responded, "No. My dad can't. Giants are too big and mean and I can beat my dad when we wrestle."
Tuesday, April 01, 2008
Torture
As I watch my two boys grow, certain answers to life's questions become clearer to me.
I think I now understand why older brothers will take any opportunity, for the rest of their life, to pick on their little brothers.
Wyatt is two years younger than Max and although Wyatt does not realize it at this time, he torments Max on a regular basis. Max will build a huge Geo-Trax railroad and Wyatt will want to help and step on the pieces and mess up the track. Max will build a big tower of blocks and Wyatt, thinking he is part of the game, will knock it over. Max will want to watch a show and Wyatt will stand directly in front of the TV blocking Max’s view.
But it is not these circumstances that will make Max, later in life, do his best to torment Wyatt. What I think has started Max’s brain storing potential ways to get back at Wyatt is the fact that Wyatt is still under the protection of his parents.
When Wyatt does something like knocking over the tower, Max will try to retaliate. But, nine out of ten times, Max is stopped by his parents with, “Max, Wyatt is just a little guy. He does not know better.”
And when Max knocks over Wyatt’s tower, Max is scolded and corrected with “Max you should know better. He is your little brother and you need to be nice to him.”
I understand that a four year old does not quite get this concept.
Max will eventually discover that a combination of Skittles and Kool-Aid makes the perfect gooey, sugary saliva combination for a gobbledygook torture. When he is older he will pin Wyatt down and Max will dangle a string of spit over Wyatt's face and he will slurp it back up. Max will do this over and over again as payback for all that Wyatt has done.
And now I can understand why it was done to me and why I did it to others.
I think I now understand why older brothers will take any opportunity, for the rest of their life, to pick on their little brothers.
Wyatt is two years younger than Max and although Wyatt does not realize it at this time, he torments Max on a regular basis. Max will build a huge Geo-Trax railroad and Wyatt will want to help and step on the pieces and mess up the track. Max will build a big tower of blocks and Wyatt, thinking he is part of the game, will knock it over. Max will want to watch a show and Wyatt will stand directly in front of the TV blocking Max’s view.
But it is not these circumstances that will make Max, later in life, do his best to torment Wyatt. What I think has started Max’s brain storing potential ways to get back at Wyatt is the fact that Wyatt is still under the protection of his parents.
When Wyatt does something like knocking over the tower, Max will try to retaliate. But, nine out of ten times, Max is stopped by his parents with, “Max, Wyatt is just a little guy. He does not know better.”
And when Max knocks over Wyatt’s tower, Max is scolded and corrected with “Max you should know better. He is your little brother and you need to be nice to him.”
I understand that a four year old does not quite get this concept.
Max will eventually discover that a combination of Skittles and Kool-Aid makes the perfect gooey, sugary saliva combination for a gobbledygook torture. When he is older he will pin Wyatt down and Max will dangle a string of spit over Wyatt's face and he will slurp it back up. Max will do this over and over again as payback for all that Wyatt has done.
And now I can understand why it was done to me and why I did it to others.
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