Maxfield's Room --Before--
Maxfield's Room --In Progress--
Max working.
Maxfield's Room --After--Friday, October 05, 2007
Moved but not unpacked
Maxfield's Room --Before-- Maxfield's Room --In Progress-- Max working. Maxfield's Room --After--
Thursday, September 27, 2007
Moving
I am excited. Lauren and the boys are excited and I think my parent's are absolutely thrilled (they have been incredible and awesome putting up with my family the past 5 months) with the fact that Lauren and I bought a house. We make settlement on Friday (9-28).
With the new house comes paint and work and moving and unpacking and work and work. I will be MIA for a bit. I may try to post some before and after pictures throughout the week but that all depends on whether we actually can achieve any "after" type look we want to. I also told Maxfield that he can help me paint his room so there may be a bunch of before and after and after and after pictures of his room.
While I am away please visit these other blogs and tell them I sent you.
The first blog is one that my friend in real life, Dave, started. He was recently diganosed with cancer and he is using a blog to journal his treatments and thoughts and what not.
His blog is Heal Cole.
It is not depressing or sad or a downer type of cancer blog. It is a straight shot, up front account of his situation and the importance that family and friends play in the healing process. He only has a few posts, so read it from the beginning to get a sense of what it is about. I am a firm believer in "Laughter is the best medicine" so leave him a comment and make him laugh.
Here are some others to visit.
Childs Play X2
Flailing My Arms
Truths and Half Truths
Cheeky's Hideaway
She Looks Like Me
Sweet Juniper
Egel Nest
Bossy
I will be back in a about a week.
With the new house comes paint and work and moving and unpacking and work and work. I will be MIA for a bit. I may try to post some before and after pictures throughout the week but that all depends on whether we actually can achieve any "after" type look we want to. I also told Maxfield that he can help me paint his room so there may be a bunch of before and after and after and after pictures of his room.
While I am away please visit these other blogs and tell them I sent you.
The first blog is one that my friend in real life, Dave, started. He was recently diganosed with cancer and he is using a blog to journal his treatments and thoughts and what not.
His blog is Heal Cole.
It is not depressing or sad or a downer type of cancer blog. It is a straight shot, up front account of his situation and the importance that family and friends play in the healing process. He only has a few posts, so read it from the beginning to get a sense of what it is about. I am a firm believer in "Laughter is the best medicine" so leave him a comment and make him laugh.
Here are some others to visit.
Childs Play X2
Flailing My Arms
Truths and Half Truths
Cheeky's Hideaway
She Looks Like Me
Sweet Juniper
Egel Nest
Bossy
I will be back in a about a week.
Flirting
I love hitting on my wife. I really do. Sometimes the flirting is a genuine, “I think you are beautiful.” Or something along those lines. But most of the times the pass or come on line is usually an immature verbal “boob-grab-honk-honk” type of compliment like “You are so hot.” Or “You are sexy.”
And like most guys, my flirting, and yes it is flirting, sometimes is just turning a normal conversation turned into something along the lines of a wink-wink-nudge-nudge.
Lauren’s cell phone is broken. It only works when it is in speakerphone mode. Meaning that anyone around Lauren can hear what is being said on the line. It took me a couple of conversations to remember that I am on speakerphone when talking to her.
She calls me.
“Hey Bill. I am at my mom’s and she is going to watch the kids while I run to the store to get dinner.”
“What are you going to get?”
“I need to pick up some spices for a recipe I am trying.”
“I got some spice for you.”
“Bill.”
“Yes.”
“You’re on speaker phone.”
That is how the conversations went. Now that I know her cell only works on speakerphone I use it my advantage.
“Hey Bill. I am at Jessica’s and I need you to do me a favor.”
“Am I on speaker phone?”
“Yes.”
“What kind of favor do you need? Bow Chicka bow wow.”
“Bill. Knock it off.”
I now use the phrase “Am I on speakerphone?” very much like Michael from the show The Office uses “That’s what she said.” It may be starting to get a little old with Lauren.
She called me the other day.
“Hey Bill. My Mom and I and the kids just left the park and we are going back to her house for dessert. Can you stop and pick up some Cool Whip?”
“Am I on speakerphone?”
“Goodbye.” –Click.
She didn’t even wait to see if I could pick some up.
And like most guys, my flirting, and yes it is flirting, sometimes is just turning a normal conversation turned into something along the lines of a wink-wink-nudge-nudge.
Lauren’s cell phone is broken. It only works when it is in speakerphone mode. Meaning that anyone around Lauren can hear what is being said on the line. It took me a couple of conversations to remember that I am on speakerphone when talking to her.
She calls me.
“Hey Bill. I am at my mom’s and she is going to watch the kids while I run to the store to get dinner.”
“What are you going to get?”
“I need to pick up some spices for a recipe I am trying.”
“I got some spice for you.”
“Bill.”
“Yes.”
“You’re on speaker phone.”
That is how the conversations went. Now that I know her cell only works on speakerphone I use it my advantage.
“Hey Bill. I am at Jessica’s and I need you to do me a favor.”
“Am I on speaker phone?”
“Yes.”
“What kind of favor do you need? Bow Chicka bow wow.”
“Bill. Knock it off.”
I now use the phrase “Am I on speakerphone?” very much like Michael from the show The Office uses “That’s what she said.” It may be starting to get a little old with Lauren.
She called me the other day.
“Hey Bill. My Mom and I and the kids just left the park and we are going back to her house for dessert. Can you stop and pick up some Cool Whip?”
“Am I on speakerphone?”
“Goodbye.” –Click.
She didn’t even wait to see if I could pick some up.
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
Pre School
Maxfield started preschool this week. He is quite proud of the fact that he gets to go to school. Lauren and I are very happy that the school accepted him.Last week Lauren brought Max to the school for an intereview. Lauren was interviewing them and they were interviewing Lauren. During the interview Max played in the corner. The teacher at the school asked all types of questions and wanted to make sure that Max was potty trained, had all his shots etc. etc. Lauren gave her Max's medical records and told the teacher that Max is potty trained but has the occasional accident. Everything looked good and Lauren signed him up for class.
When Lauren went to get Max so they could go home, with the teacher next to her, she realized that Max had pooped his pants. How did she notice this? The poop fell out of his pants and was sitting on the floor next to him.
They still accepted him. I guess the teacher thought it was like a student leaving an apple for her.
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
Brushing
It appears that my morning exercise and diet plan are not working as observed by my 3 year old.
The other day I was getting dressed in the bathroom when Maxfield and Wyatt came in to get their toothbrushes. I applied the paste to their brushes, handed them over to the kids and they disappeared into Max’s room. I started brushing my own teeth when I realized it was too quiet in the other room. I continued brushing my teeth as I walked down the hallway to Max’s room.
I was only wearing a pair of shorts and I was brushing my teeth vigorously as I entered the room. Max looked up at me, stared at my belly for a second, took his toothbrush out of his mouth and he motioned towards my stomach and chest and said, “Look Daddy. You are making that all wiggly.”
The other day I was getting dressed in the bathroom when Maxfield and Wyatt came in to get their toothbrushes. I applied the paste to their brushes, handed them over to the kids and they disappeared into Max’s room. I started brushing my own teeth when I realized it was too quiet in the other room. I continued brushing my teeth as I walked down the hallway to Max’s room.
I was only wearing a pair of shorts and I was brushing my teeth vigorously as I entered the room. Max looked up at me, stared at my belly for a second, took his toothbrush out of his mouth and he motioned towards my stomach and chest and said, “Look Daddy. You are making that all wiggly.”
Monday, September 24, 2007
Shopping with Mom
Yesterday I had the pleasure of food shopping with my mom. The last time I was at a super market with my mom I was probably twelve and I am sure my brother Lawnwhisperer was with me, and most likely we were sent to the car midway through the shopping trip with the instructions of "I have never been so embarrased in my life. I want you to sit in the car and DO NOT touch anything and I swear when we get home I am going to..."
Being that I never made it to the check out aisle in a grocery store with my mom present, she was never able to teach me a lesson about the cashiers that work the registers. Yesterday she taught me, what she considered, a life lesson.
As I squeezed the cart between the candy rack and the Magazine rack, where all the magazines talked about Britney and OJ and Angelina etc., my mom looked up to see that a guy, a boy, a young man really, was working the lane and she made a face.
"What?" I asked.
"You never pick a lane where a guy is working. They are slow. Women are much faster at the grocery store."
"What? That's not true."
"Bill, trust me. Men are so much slower with this type of stuff."
"Well that's sexist." I said.
We watched the guy working the scanner and register and he was barely bagging the groceries for the woman in front of us. For this particular incident, my mom had a point.
Whe we got home I told Lauren what my mom said about men working in the grocery store. My mom then said, "I have many years of experience, in the supermarket male workers are always slower than the females."
What do you think? In your experience are men or women slower at working the cash register?
Being that I never made it to the check out aisle in a grocery store with my mom present, she was never able to teach me a lesson about the cashiers that work the registers. Yesterday she taught me, what she considered, a life lesson.
As I squeezed the cart between the candy rack and the Magazine rack, where all the magazines talked about Britney and OJ and Angelina etc., my mom looked up to see that a guy, a boy, a young man really, was working the lane and she made a face.
"What?" I asked.
"You never pick a lane where a guy is working. They are slow. Women are much faster at the grocery store."
"What? That's not true."
"Bill, trust me. Men are so much slower with this type of stuff."
"Well that's sexist." I said.
We watched the guy working the scanner and register and he was barely bagging the groceries for the woman in front of us. For this particular incident, my mom had a point.
Whe we got home I told Lauren what my mom said about men working in the grocery store. My mom then said, "I have many years of experience, in the supermarket male workers are always slower than the females."
What do you think? In your experience are men or women slower at working the cash register?
Friday, September 21, 2007
Don't get me.
The phone rings at my parent's house, I can see from the caller ID that it is some type of telemarketer.
"Hello." I answer.
The guy on the other end says, "Yes. Hello. Is Barbara available?"
"I am sorry sir." I said. "But Barbara is married and has been for over forty years. So no she is not available and I do not think my dad would appreciate you calling here trying to hit on her like that."
Crickets on the other end.
"Hello." I answer.
The guy on the other end says, "Yes. Hello. Is Barbara available?"
"I am sorry sir." I said. "But Barbara is married and has been for over forty years. So no she is not available and I do not think my dad would appreciate you calling here trying to hit on her like that."
Crickets on the other end.
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
Learning to Drive
I was only 16 years old for a few days when I went to get my learners permit. Once I had the little yellow card that legally allowed me behind the wheel of a car all I wanted to do was drive. There were no hours-in-training requirements to get a bonafide driver license. I only had to pass the official drivers test and I needed the practice. The restrictions on a permit were that I had to have a licensed driver over the age of 18 in the car with me while I learned behind the wheel.
Most of my siblings that were of the legal teaching age were either off to school or were too busy to teach me. My Godmother’s husband, Uncle Brian, took me out a few times but after I ran the stop sign at the bottom of Hoffman and Karen lanes I don’t think his heart could take it anymore.
The only other alternative to get some driving time was with my dad. The only problem with that was his car. I wanted to learn how to drive in a car that was close, in size and handling, to the type of car I would eventually use take my drivers test. My dad’s car was an old “cargo” van.
The old van was a beat up blue Ford with no windows on the side and no seats in the back. I think at one point it was used for a carpet business. The back of the van had a wooden bench bolted to the driver’s side wall, which is where we kids sat going to and from different places. Actually there was only one legitimate seat in the van and that was the driver’s seat. The front passenger seat was the spare tire. On top of that tire was a seat from a different van that was not mounted or fastened to anything. It was just placed on top of the tire so my mom had a place to sit. Whenever the van made a hard turn the seat would lean and slide in the opposite direction.
With no one to teach me I had to ask my father. I needed his approval to get my license anyway so maybe it would work out okay. He drove me out early on a Sunday morning, to the Jefferson Ward parking lot. On the way there, as I bounced back and forth on the passenger seat tire contraption, he explained that the parking lot would be empty and it would be a great place to drive We made a quick stop at the 7-11 to get a cup of coffee and a newspaper.
He pulled into the expansive empty lot and we got out of the van. He tossed me the keys and I jumped into the drivers seat and he climbed into the loose passenger seat. Before I could start the engine he talked about driving responsible and what not. He also wanted to go over some ground rules.
My dad pointed to some trees. “That is a stop sign.” He said. “That trash can is another stop sign. The speed limit on this side of the lot is 25 and on the other side is 35.”
I nodded.
“I want you follow all the painted lines. If you miss a stop sign you fail. If you go too fast or too slow you fail and we will come back again each week until you get it right.”
“Okay.” I said as I started the engine. “Ready?”
“Yes.” He said as he took off the lid of his coffee cup. “And one more thing. I want to be able to drink my coffee and read the paper. If I spill my coffee or I can’t focus on the paper because I am bouncing around, you fail and we will have to come back until you get it right.”
I looked at the passenger seat sitting on top of the tire and knew I would be coming back many more times. My dad is a very patient man. He took me back at least four times.
Most of my siblings that were of the legal teaching age were either off to school or were too busy to teach me. My Godmother’s husband, Uncle Brian, took me out a few times but after I ran the stop sign at the bottom of Hoffman and Karen lanes I don’t think his heart could take it anymore.
The only other alternative to get some driving time was with my dad. The only problem with that was his car. I wanted to learn how to drive in a car that was close, in size and handling, to the type of car I would eventually use take my drivers test. My dad’s car was an old “cargo” van.
The old van was a beat up blue Ford with no windows on the side and no seats in the back. I think at one point it was used for a carpet business. The back of the van had a wooden bench bolted to the driver’s side wall, which is where we kids sat going to and from different places. Actually there was only one legitimate seat in the van and that was the driver’s seat. The front passenger seat was the spare tire. On top of that tire was a seat from a different van that was not mounted or fastened to anything. It was just placed on top of the tire so my mom had a place to sit. Whenever the van made a hard turn the seat would lean and slide in the opposite direction.
With no one to teach me I had to ask my father. I needed his approval to get my license anyway so maybe it would work out okay. He drove me out early on a Sunday morning, to the Jefferson Ward parking lot. On the way there, as I bounced back and forth on the passenger seat tire contraption, he explained that the parking lot would be empty and it would be a great place to drive We made a quick stop at the 7-11 to get a cup of coffee and a newspaper.
He pulled into the expansive empty lot and we got out of the van. He tossed me the keys and I jumped into the drivers seat and he climbed into the loose passenger seat. Before I could start the engine he talked about driving responsible and what not. He also wanted to go over some ground rules.
My dad pointed to some trees. “That is a stop sign.” He said. “That trash can is another stop sign. The speed limit on this side of the lot is 25 and on the other side is 35.”
I nodded.
“I want you follow all the painted lines. If you miss a stop sign you fail. If you go too fast or too slow you fail and we will come back again each week until you get it right.”
“Okay.” I said as I started the engine. “Ready?”
“Yes.” He said as he took off the lid of his coffee cup. “And one more thing. I want to be able to drink my coffee and read the paper. If I spill my coffee or I can’t focus on the paper because I am bouncing around, you fail and we will have to come back until you get it right.”
I looked at the passenger seat sitting on top of the tire and knew I would be coming back many more times. My dad is a very patient man. He took me back at least four times.
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
Friday, September 14, 2007
Blanket
Recently, I started to make the beds in the morning. Making the bed is one of those pain in the ass chores that just does not make sense to me. I mean, why make it in the morning, you’re just going to sleep in it that night anyway right? Fix it right before you get into bed. Anyway, I am just trying to help Lauren out.
But I am somewhat confused by Maxfield’s blankets. His blanket has the image of Thomas the Tank Engine on it. I have noticed that when Lauren makes up his bed she places the cover so the image is viewable from the foot of the bed. It looks nice and presentable to anyone entering the room.
I, however, think that the blanket should be placed so that it is viewable from the head of the bead. Meaning that if Max is in bed, with his head on the pillow he can look down and see Thomas staring back up at him. The way Lauren fixes it, when Max looks down, Thomas is upside down.
The way I see it, Thomas is on the blanket for Max, so he should have the best angle.
How would you make it?
But I am somewhat confused by Maxfield’s blankets. His blanket has the image of Thomas the Tank Engine on it. I have noticed that when Lauren makes up his bed she places the cover so the image is viewable from the foot of the bed. It looks nice and presentable to anyone entering the room.
I, however, think that the blanket should be placed so that it is viewable from the head of the bead. Meaning that if Max is in bed, with his head on the pillow he can look down and see Thomas staring back up at him. The way Lauren fixes it, when Max looks down, Thomas is upside down.
The way I see it, Thomas is on the blanket for Max, so he should have the best angle.
How would you make it?
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
Gross
My sister Sharon was over the other day. She stepped outside onto my parent’s front step to catch a smoke. When she returned, she stood in the family room and chatted for a few moments. She turned towards the couch, lifting a blanket to make room for her to sit down when she let out a screech.
“Ahhh. Oh my god, Oh my God.” She yelled.
“What is it?” My mom asked.
“Get it off. Get it off.” Sharon said. She turned her leg towards me and begged. “Bill get it off me.”
I looked at her lower leg and slightly skeeved out. “In a minute.” I said. “I want to take a picture first.”
“What?” She screamed.
“I need a picture for the blog.”
I retrieved my camera from the other room. I took a few pictures. And then I removed the thing from her leg.
Apparently these things live out by my parent’s garden. It must have climbed onto my sisters shoe and up her leg while she was outside.
“Ahhh. Oh my god, Oh my God.” She yelled.
“What is it?” My mom asked.
“Get it off. Get it off.” Sharon said. She turned her leg towards me and begged. “Bill get it off me.”
I looked at her lower leg and slightly skeeved out. “In a minute.” I said. “I want to take a picture first.”
“What?” She screamed.
“I need a picture for the blog.”
I retrieved my camera from the other room. I took a few pictures. And then I removed the thing from her leg.
Apparently these things live out by my parent’s garden. It must have climbed onto my sisters shoe and up her leg while she was outside.
Monday, September 10, 2007
Sometimes God smiles upon me
Really, God must like me because the fine people over at Doritos now have two (count em TWO) different flavored chips in ONE bag. And they came out with this fine product right at the beginning of football season.And since God knows that I am watching my Cholesterol, he made sure the nutrition label looks like this.
Do you see that? Zero Cholesterol.*
The only thing that God and the fine people at Doritos could do to beat this, would be to come out with Chocolate and Bacon flavored chips. **
*-Yes I know that there is some cockamamy formula that fat and saturated fat magically turn into Cholesterol, but I am not buying it.
**- What? I know you have thought of this flavor combination too.
Wednesday, September 05, 2007
Author
I enjoy reading. My tastes vary and I read a little bit of everything but I usually stick to just a few authors. Waiting for one of these author’s new books sometimes puts me in spot of having nothing new to read. I may try a recommended book or author (for instance MRTL suggested Carl Hiaasen and now I have a new author on my list) and sometimes I discover a new author all on my own.
My latest discovery is Brad Meltzer. I discovered Meltzer because I found the cover of his last book, The Book of Fate, interesting. I Googled him and found his website. He is a best selling author of suspense/thriller books that are set in the world of government. Not politics, but government. I am fascinated by the way government works (or does not work) and I also saw that he was writing some comic books. While surfing his website I found that he also had a blog. I read few entries, and as bloggers do, I left a comment on one his posts. He sent me email in reply to my comment.
I figured, here is a guy who writes thriller/mystery/suspense books which revolve around various areas of government, writes comic books and has a blog AND he replied to a comment I made, I had to check out his work. I started with his book Zero Game and I loved it. I told my wife, Lauren, about the book and about his email to me, and how I wanted to buy the rest of his books. Lauren started teasing me claiming I had a Man-Crush on Brad Meltzer.
This summer I have read five out of six of his books. I also received another personal email from Brad regarding something or other from his blog. I loved the fact that a best selling author was so accessible.
His last book I read, The First Counsel, I bought at Barnes and Noble. I read it over the next two weeks and I was nearing the end of the book. I only had a few chapters left to go and I purposely set some time aside so I could finish. I sat outside on the front porch and started to finish the book. I was on the second to the last chapter and things were starting to come together when I turned the page (page 497 to be exact) and noticed that page 498 was blank. Page 499 was printed but page 500 was blank. There were about 10 pages total at the end of the book that were blank. I was pissed. I could not finish the book.
I took the spine creased, dog-eared, coffee-stained book back to the store and I asked for a replacement. The manager told me he could not take the book back in the condition that it was in. He needed a reason to replace the book. I showed him the blank pages. He still refused.
“Look,” I said “How was I supposed to know that the pages were blank when I bought it. The book is tattered because I was reading it the way it is supposed to be read, from the beginning to the end. If the pages in the beginning of the book were blank I would have returned it in better condition.”
The manager was still not sure if he could replace the book. I was frustrated and I said, “Fine. If you can’t replace it I will just email Brad Meltzer and ask him for the missing pages.”
The manager gave me a look. The look that he gave me as he rolled his eyes said You, Sir, are the biggest dork I have ever encountered, sheesh emailing the author….
He then exchanged the book for me.
I told Lauren about the exchange with the bookstore manager and she concurred with his Look.
My latest discovery is Brad Meltzer. I discovered Meltzer because I found the cover of his last book, The Book of Fate, interesting. I Googled him and found his website. He is a best selling author of suspense/thriller books that are set in the world of government. Not politics, but government. I am fascinated by the way government works (or does not work) and I also saw that he was writing some comic books. While surfing his website I found that he also had a blog. I read few entries, and as bloggers do, I left a comment on one his posts. He sent me email in reply to my comment.
I figured, here is a guy who writes thriller/mystery/suspense books which revolve around various areas of government, writes comic books and has a blog AND he replied to a comment I made, I had to check out his work. I started with his book Zero Game and I loved it. I told my wife, Lauren, about the book and about his email to me, and how I wanted to buy the rest of his books. Lauren started teasing me claiming I had a Man-Crush on Brad Meltzer.
This summer I have read five out of six of his books. I also received another personal email from Brad regarding something or other from his blog. I loved the fact that a best selling author was so accessible.
His last book I read, The First Counsel, I bought at Barnes and Noble. I read it over the next two weeks and I was nearing the end of the book. I only had a few chapters left to go and I purposely set some time aside so I could finish. I sat outside on the front porch and started to finish the book. I was on the second to the last chapter and things were starting to come together when I turned the page (page 497 to be exact) and noticed that page 498 was blank. Page 499 was printed but page 500 was blank. There were about 10 pages total at the end of the book that were blank. I was pissed. I could not finish the book.
I took the spine creased, dog-eared, coffee-stained book back to the store and I asked for a replacement. The manager told me he could not take the book back in the condition that it was in. He needed a reason to replace the book. I showed him the blank pages. He still refused.
“Look,” I said “How was I supposed to know that the pages were blank when I bought it. The book is tattered because I was reading it the way it is supposed to be read, from the beginning to the end. If the pages in the beginning of the book were blank I would have returned it in better condition.”
The manager was still not sure if he could replace the book. I was frustrated and I said, “Fine. If you can’t replace it I will just email Brad Meltzer and ask him for the missing pages.”
The manager gave me a look. The look that he gave me as he rolled his eyes said You, Sir, are the biggest dork I have ever encountered, sheesh emailing the author….
He then exchanged the book for me.
I told Lauren about the exchange with the bookstore manager and she concurred with his Look.
Tuesday, September 04, 2007
Friday, August 31, 2007
Assets
FYI
A mortgage company does not consider "An awesome fantasy football team that will hopefully win me two hundred bucks" an asset.
Nor do they think having the number one overall draft pick for a fantasy football team an asset.
A mortgage company does not consider "An awesome fantasy football team that will hopefully win me two hundred bucks" an asset.
Nor do they think having the number one overall draft pick for a fantasy football team an asset.
Thursday, August 30, 2007
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
Family History
When I blog, I usually write a post in a Word document the first thing in the morning, somewhere between 5:30 and 7:00am. Then, I get to work, do a spell check, copy and paste and then post.
Recently my mornings have been occupied with something else.
A month ago I went to the doctor for a physical. Everything checked out okay except for my blood work. It seems that my Cholesterol and glucose are a little high. Nothing too alarming and nothing that some quickly prescribed pills could not fix. The doctor told me there are two ways to fix the high scores on my blood work. Diet/exercise or medication. I refused the prescription. I decided to try the diet and exercise route first. The doctor did not really like my approach. He tried to convince me I needed meds.
During the consultation, besides the normal check-up he also covered my family history.
“Is there a history of Cancer?” he asked.
“Check.”
“Is there a family history of heart disease?”
“Check.”
“Is there a history of high blood pressure?”
“Check.”
“Does diabetes run in the family?”
“Well it does not really run, it more or less saunters.” I replied.
“What?”
“Well there is one case of adult onset diabetes in my family. That’s not really running. It's more like a liesurely stroll.”
The doctor gave me a puzzling look and the told me that with the family history I have I really should consider the meds. I told him I would give the diet and exercise a try for three months and then I would reconsider. He again talked about family history.
"With the history of heart disease and diabetes in your family, I really think that medication might..."
“Look Doc.” I said cutting him off. “All of my grandparents lived into their 80s.”
“Well, that really does not mean much when it comes to…”
I cut him off again. “If you are going to use family history against me, I am going to use it against you.”
I have to follow up with him at the end of October.
My blog posts have not been that great as of late because in an effort to prove the doctor wrong, I now use my prime blogging time for exercise. Every morning somewhere between 5:30 and 7:00 I go out for a run.
Okay it is not really a run it is more of a saunter.
Recently my mornings have been occupied with something else.
A month ago I went to the doctor for a physical. Everything checked out okay except for my blood work. It seems that my Cholesterol and glucose are a little high. Nothing too alarming and nothing that some quickly prescribed pills could not fix. The doctor told me there are two ways to fix the high scores on my blood work. Diet/exercise or medication. I refused the prescription. I decided to try the diet and exercise route first. The doctor did not really like my approach. He tried to convince me I needed meds.
During the consultation, besides the normal check-up he also covered my family history.
“Is there a history of Cancer?” he asked.
“Check.”
“Is there a family history of heart disease?”
“Check.”
“Is there a history of high blood pressure?”
“Check.”
“Does diabetes run in the family?”
“Well it does not really run, it more or less saunters.” I replied.
“What?”
“Well there is one case of adult onset diabetes in my family. That’s not really running. It's more like a liesurely stroll.”
The doctor gave me a puzzling look and the told me that with the family history I have I really should consider the meds. I told him I would give the diet and exercise a try for three months and then I would reconsider. He again talked about family history.
"With the history of heart disease and diabetes in your family, I really think that medication might..."
“Look Doc.” I said cutting him off. “All of my grandparents lived into their 80s.”
“Well, that really does not mean much when it comes to…”
I cut him off again. “If you are going to use family history against me, I am going to use it against you.”
I have to follow up with him at the end of October.
My blog posts have not been that great as of late because in an effort to prove the doctor wrong, I now use my prime blogging time for exercise. Every morning somewhere between 5:30 and 7:00 I go out for a run.
Okay it is not really a run it is more of a saunter.
Monday, August 27, 2007
At the Table
My mom made tacos for dinner. Besides the cheese, meat, tomatoes, lettuce, sour cream, black olives etc. etc. she also prepared both hard shell corn tortilla and soft shell flour tortillas.
Lauren and I used to make tacos all the time but we always use the soft shell flour tortillas. Lauren reached across the table and grabbed one of the hard corn tortilla.
Holding the tortilla up she innocently said, "Man, I haven't had a hard one in such a long time."
I looked up at my father who was stifling a laugh and I started cracking up.
"Lauren, we live with my parents. It is difficult to find the alone time." I said.
My dad, now laughing said to Lauren, "Would you like for your mother-in-law and I to go for a walk."
Lauren and I used to make tacos all the time but we always use the soft shell flour tortillas. Lauren reached across the table and grabbed one of the hard corn tortilla.
Holding the tortilla up she innocently said, "Man, I haven't had a hard one in such a long time."
I looked up at my father who was stifling a laugh and I started cracking up.
"Lauren, we live with my parents. It is difficult to find the alone time." I said.
My dad, now laughing said to Lauren, "Would you like for your mother-in-law and I to go for a walk."
Friday, August 24, 2007
Wednesday, August 22, 2007
Colors
I don’t know if it is me, and my family, or if other people have their own personal colors for household items. Growing up, my siblings and I all had our own drinking cups. Plastic cups with our names written on them with magic marker. We were responsible for our cups at all times. We had to clean them and put them away. It helped reduce the amount of dishes that needed to be cleaned at the end of the day. It also gave my mom the ability to reprimand anyone who left their cups on the kitchen table, coffee table or end tables or anywhere else around the house. The plastic drinking cups at that time were only produced in 4 colors, Red, Orange, Blue and Green. With nine kids some of us shared the same colors but that is where the magic markers came in. I remember having a blue cup.
My mom did the same thing with socks. We all had socks with colored stripes at the top and we each were assigned a color; Red, Blue, Green, and Black. They were the standard colors at that time. My mom would write our initials on the toes of the socks so she could seperate them for laundry and so she could reprimand the person who left their socks on the kitchen table, coffee table or end table or anywhere else around the house. I remember having black striped socks.
Toothbrushes were something else entirely. I vaguely remember that we all kept our toothbrushes in our rooms. There were two reasons for this. One, so there would be no confusion as to whose brush was whose. And two, I don’t think anyone of us trusted the rest to not drop our toothbrush in the toilet. I remember my toothbrush was blue. I always got a blue toothbrush.
I still, at 37 and having a smaller family, get a blue toothbrush. The blue one in the cup on the sink is my toothbrush. The other color, whatever it may be, is Lauren’s. A few months ago we bought new toothbrushes for the family. They were out of blue so I picked up dark purple and white one and Lauren picked up a light green one. Now every morning when I go to brush my teeth, I have to stop and think about which brush is mine. It is very confusing not having a blue toothbrush.
What color is your toothbrush?
My mom did the same thing with socks. We all had socks with colored stripes at the top and we each were assigned a color; Red, Blue, Green, and Black. They were the standard colors at that time. My mom would write our initials on the toes of the socks so she could seperate them for laundry and so she could reprimand the person who left their socks on the kitchen table, coffee table or end table or anywhere else around the house. I remember having black striped socks.
Toothbrushes were something else entirely. I vaguely remember that we all kept our toothbrushes in our rooms. There were two reasons for this. One, so there would be no confusion as to whose brush was whose. And two, I don’t think anyone of us trusted the rest to not drop our toothbrush in the toilet. I remember my toothbrush was blue. I always got a blue toothbrush.
I still, at 37 and having a smaller family, get a blue toothbrush. The blue one in the cup on the sink is my toothbrush. The other color, whatever it may be, is Lauren’s. A few months ago we bought new toothbrushes for the family. They were out of blue so I picked up dark purple and white one and Lauren picked up a light green one. Now every morning when I go to brush my teeth, I have to stop and think about which brush is mine. It is very confusing not having a blue toothbrush.
What color is your toothbrush?
Monday, August 20, 2007
Appearing Nightly
Wyatt is 14 months (and some change) old. For his entire life, his mother has been the one to put him and tuck him into bed. During those 14 plus month I have had the responsibility to put Maxfield to bed. There have been some exceptions to this, but for the most part it is an accurate statement.
Last week, for various reasons, Lauren and I decided to switch it up. I now have the responsibility and pleasure of putting Wyatt to bed. As part of Lauren’s routine with Wyatt, she would sing to him before laying him down in his crib. Lauren has a nice voice and she knows the words to thousands of songs. I, on the other hand, do not.
I think I have posted here before that the only song I know all the words to is the ABC’s song. Wyatt is not a big fan of the ABC’s. (I know you are thinking that maybe he is not a fan of my voice but continue reading). I know parts of songs and on the first few nights I tried a medley of different artists. I mixed Pink Floyd, Ben Folds, Peter Gabriel and Dire Straits into, what I considered, a wonderful tune. Wyatt did not care for it.
The next couple of nights, I searched the recesses of my brain for a song in which I knew all the lyrics. I was happy to discover that I know all the lyrics to two other songs. They both happen to be Barry Manilow songs. "I Can't Smile Without You" and "I Write the Songs". I don’t have the voice to sing Barry Manilow the right way. So, I sing the songs to Wyatt as if I were a lounge singer out in Vegas. Picture Bill Murray from the old Saturday Night Live skits.
You know I can’t smile without you. (How is everybody tonight?)
I can’t smile with out you.
I can’t laugh, and I can’t sing
I’m finding it hard to do anything. (Hey where are you from?)
You know I feel sad, when you’re sad. (Anyone sad out there tonight?)
I feel glad when you’re glad. (Here’s to being glad).
If you only knew what I’m going through. I just can’t smile without you.
You came along just like a song (Back on June 11th I remember it like it was just last year) and brightened my day. (and your mother’s.)
Who’d’ve believe you were part of a dream,
Now it all seems, like years away. (Okay, really only a year ago.)
Thanks. Thank you really. I’m here all week.
Last week, for various reasons, Lauren and I decided to switch it up. I now have the responsibility and pleasure of putting Wyatt to bed. As part of Lauren’s routine with Wyatt, she would sing to him before laying him down in his crib. Lauren has a nice voice and she knows the words to thousands of songs. I, on the other hand, do not.
I think I have posted here before that the only song I know all the words to is the ABC’s song. Wyatt is not a big fan of the ABC’s. (I know you are thinking that maybe he is not a fan of my voice but continue reading). I know parts of songs and on the first few nights I tried a medley of different artists. I mixed Pink Floyd, Ben Folds, Peter Gabriel and Dire Straits into, what I considered, a wonderful tune. Wyatt did not care for it.
The next couple of nights, I searched the recesses of my brain for a song in which I knew all the lyrics. I was happy to discover that I know all the lyrics to two other songs. They both happen to be Barry Manilow songs. "I Can't Smile Without You" and "I Write the Songs". I don’t have the voice to sing Barry Manilow the right way. So, I sing the songs to Wyatt as if I were a lounge singer out in Vegas. Picture Bill Murray from the old Saturday Night Live skits.
You know I can’t smile without you. (How is everybody tonight?)
I can’t smile with out you.
I can’t laugh, and I can’t sing
I’m finding it hard to do anything. (Hey where are you from?)
You know I feel sad, when you’re sad. (Anyone sad out there tonight?)
I feel glad when you’re glad. (Here’s to being glad).
If you only knew what I’m going through. I just can’t smile without you.
You came along just like a song (Back on June 11th I remember it like it was just last year) and brightened my day. (and your mother’s.)
Who’d’ve believe you were part of a dream,
Now it all seems, like years away. (Okay, really only a year ago.)
Thanks. Thank you really. I’m here all week.
Sunday, August 19, 2007
What would you do?
Your'e significant other holds up a chocolate chip cookie brownie, (the piece is about 3 inches wide by 3 inches across and about 2 1/2 inches deep. It is filled with Marshmallow, chocolate chunks, caramel and nuts) and she asks you, "Do you want this brownie?"
But just as she asks the question the brownie slips from her hands and onto a dirty kitchen floor, do you still eat it?
But just as she asks the question the brownie slips from her hands and onto a dirty kitchen floor, do you still eat it?
Thursday, August 16, 2007
Choo Choo
Maxfield is addicted to trains. Like all good addicts he has “dealer”. The dealer is Lauren’s Uncle Fred, who is a train enthusiast, and sends Max all types of train videos, toys and pictures. Recently Uncle Fred sent Max information about Strasburg Pennsylvania.
Lauren and I reviewed the information and decided traveling to Strasburg (Lancaster PA, "Amish Country") would make a great long weekend. Let me tell you, taking Maxfield to Strasburg was like taking a crack head to a Crack Convention. We went to places like the Choo Choo Barn, The Rail Road Museum of Pennsylvania and the Toy Train Museum.
They have two stores in Strasburg, seriously two, that sell nothing but Thomas the Tank Engine Stuff. Thankfully Max is not really into Thomas. He likes the fact that Thomas and friends are trains but does not really get into the different characters. Which is great for me because I don’t have to remember all of their different names (that space in my brain is reserved for knowing all the alter ego’s of every member of the Justice League).
There were many highlights to the trip but there were two that stood out for me. One is that we stayed in the Caboose Motel. We slept in an actual caboose. The place was not really that nice, somewhat of an old tourist trap kind of place, but Maxfield loved the fact that we stayed in a caboose.
The other highlight was riding the Strasburg Rail Road. We boarded a historic early 1900’s steam train that took us through the beautiful countryside. Max could barely contain his excitement. He moved back and forth on the train trying to look out the open windows. Every now and then Wyatt would try to climb up to peer out and Max would try to push Wyatt out of the way. I was a little paranoid that one of them would fall out of the open car.
Lauren could see that I was stressing and urged me to relax. “Bill, relax. It’s not like Max is going to push Wyatt out the window.”
“Lauren, their brothers,” I said. “And if I were on this train with my brothers I am sure one of us would have been pushed out the window.”
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
Lottery
The other day, on lunch hour, I stopped by the 7-11 to pick up some lottery tickets. As I was waiting for the cashier to ring up all the people in front of me, I decided to check the lottery tickets in my wallet, against the past numbers they had posted on the wall. I have a George Costanza type wallet and I wanted to lighten it up a bit.
I pulled out the tickets and I started to compare them to the posted numbers. I spread the tickets on the counter in front of me. I picked up a ticket looked at the date and number and then I would compare it to the poster board. Not a winner. I crumpled the ticket and went to the next one. I looked at the ticket, looked up at the board. Not a winner.
I was standing in the checkout line and people were lining up behind me getting their sandwiches and what not. Some were looking at the “lunch specials” board right next to the lottery board. I decided to let people go ahead of me because I was going to be a few minutes checking the numbers. Every so often the clerk behind the counter would stand in my line of view to get someone a hotdog.
I looked at the sixth ticket, craned my neck to see past the clerk, not a winner. I crumpled the ticket and picked up the next one. As I squinted to see the board on the wall my eyes were drawn to the poster next to it.
“Holy crap!” I exclaimed as I stood there holding a ticket. A smile came across my face.
The clerk heard me and his attention was drawn to my hand. “Did you win? How much?”
The people behind me looked in my direction noticing my excitement.
“What?” I said as I turned away from the board. “No. But I just noticed that you guys have Pork Roll dogs.” I pointed to the advertisement on the wall. “I’ll take one.”
Hot Dog shaped Pork Roll served in a bun is almost like winning the lottery.
I pulled out the tickets and I started to compare them to the posted numbers. I spread the tickets on the counter in front of me. I picked up a ticket looked at the date and number and then I would compare it to the poster board. Not a winner. I crumpled the ticket and went to the next one. I looked at the ticket, looked up at the board. Not a winner.
I was standing in the checkout line and people were lining up behind me getting their sandwiches and what not. Some were looking at the “lunch specials” board right next to the lottery board. I decided to let people go ahead of me because I was going to be a few minutes checking the numbers. Every so often the clerk behind the counter would stand in my line of view to get someone a hotdog.
I looked at the sixth ticket, craned my neck to see past the clerk, not a winner. I crumpled the ticket and picked up the next one. As I squinted to see the board on the wall my eyes were drawn to the poster next to it.
“Holy crap!” I exclaimed as I stood there holding a ticket. A smile came across my face.
The clerk heard me and his attention was drawn to my hand. “Did you win? How much?”
The people behind me looked in my direction noticing my excitement.
“What?” I said as I turned away from the board. “No. But I just noticed that you guys have Pork Roll dogs.” I pointed to the advertisement on the wall. “I’ll take one.”
Hot Dog shaped Pork Roll served in a bun is almost like winning the lottery.
Monday, August 13, 2007
Miracle of Life
We always hear about the miracle of life when it comes to people conceiving and giving birth. But why does the consideration of the miracle of life stop there?
I think the following are also miracles of life.
The fact that a one year old can fall down a flight of steps without barely batting an eye. A miracle for him and his parents because they did not die of a heart attack when it happened.
A three year old can ask "why" a hundred times to one simple explanation as to why he cannot ride his bike in the street. Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? I think it is a miracle of life, that the father, after hearing "why" for the hundredth time, just doesn't let the kid ride his bike in the street.
Another Miracle of life is proven in the fact that a child CAN live on nothing but chicken and apple juice. Screw the vegetables.
That a 37 year old man, his wife and two little kids can live with his parents for 4 months, and his parents have not dug a 6 foot hole in their backyard (yet)for the 37 year old man to be buried in is a miracle of life.
What "Miracle of Life" stories do you have in the same vain?
I think the following are also miracles of life.
The fact that a one year old can fall down a flight of steps without barely batting an eye. A miracle for him and his parents because they did not die of a heart attack when it happened.
A three year old can ask "why" a hundred times to one simple explanation as to why he cannot ride his bike in the street. Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? I think it is a miracle of life, that the father, after hearing "why" for the hundredth time, just doesn't let the kid ride his bike in the street.
Another Miracle of life is proven in the fact that a child CAN live on nothing but chicken and apple juice. Screw the vegetables.
That a 37 year old man, his wife and two little kids can live with his parents for 4 months, and his parents have not dug a 6 foot hole in their backyard (yet)for the 37 year old man to be buried in is a miracle of life.
What "Miracle of Life" stories do you have in the same vain?
For Fun
Lauren and I were enjoying a romantic dinner the night of our anniversary. We were nestled in a dim lit corner booth, out of the way of the normal hustle and bustle of the restaurant. We were enjoying our food and drinks and our quiet conversation when a woman approached our table.
“How are you tonight?” She asked.
“Great.” I responded.
“How is everything?” The woman asked.
“Good.” Lauren said.
The woman stood there for a moment not saying anything and then she turned away as if she was leaving.
“Are you the manager?” I asked, stopping her.
“Yes. Why is there something wrong?”
“Oh. No. Everything is great. I just wasn’t sure if you were just a random patron looking for a food suggestion or something.”
The woman smiled and nodded and then went on to another table. Since she was not wearing a nametag and she did not introduce herself as the manager she could have been just some strange person who liked to check on other diners. The thought of this piqued my interest and I may, just for fun, go to random restaurants and check on the patrons.
“How are you tonight?” She asked.
“Great.” I responded.
“How is everything?” The woman asked.
“Good.” Lauren said.
The woman stood there for a moment not saying anything and then she turned away as if she was leaving.
“Are you the manager?” I asked, stopping her.
“Yes. Why is there something wrong?”
“Oh. No. Everything is great. I just wasn’t sure if you were just a random patron looking for a food suggestion or something.”
The woman smiled and nodded and then went on to another table. Since she was not wearing a nametag and she did not introduce herself as the manager she could have been just some strange person who liked to check on other diners. The thought of this piqued my interest and I may, just for fun, go to random restaurants and check on the patrons.
Friday, August 10, 2007
From the mouths of kids
With his upper lip covered in pink lemonade from the glass he just guzzled down, Maxfield turns to me and says, "Look Dad, I have a moustache just like MaMa (Momo9)."
Wednesday, August 08, 2007
The Thing
At a birthday party on Saturday there was an older boy, Nick, about 8 years old, who was great at playing with and entertaining the younger kids. Max had one of the things pictured above, and Max would blow on it and the older boy acted as if the force of the thing knocked him over. Max laughed and laughed. They continued this for a while until Nick moved on to something else.
Max then aimed the thing at the other kids. They were not interested in playing. I had to step in to steer Max away from annoying the other people. Lauren heard me correcting Max and asked me from the other room, “What was he doing?”
“He was blowing on the…uhh. The thing.”
“What?” Lauren asked.
“You know the thing that you blow on?” I knew it didn’t sound right as soon as I said it. “You know it gets bigger when you blow on it?” I looked around at the other parents in the room to see if they were looking at me funny.
“What?”
“The thing. Uh, I don’t know, the thing you blow on and it gets longer…Forget it.”
FYI if you are ever in this situation the thing is called a "BlowOut".
Tuesday, August 07, 2007
Sharing
Saturday we attended a birthday party for the 2-year-old daughter of friends of ours. There were about 10 kids there under the age of 5. Besides the hosts of the party, most of the adults that attended I have only met once or twice in the past. So I did my best at PDP (Public Displays of Parenting), making sure Max took turns, did not push other kids and that he said “please” and “thank you” when appropriate.
I say PDP because sometimes I do not enforce certain rules at home. I know, I know, I am supposed to be consistent with parenting and teaching my children how to behave, but sometimes I don’t necessarily agree with the common rules of parenting. And sometimes, the punishment for an infraction of my rules may not be appropriate to do in front of strangers. And the reaction of my kid, to some of the punishments, may not be appropriate for a party type of atmosphere. Really, I do not think that other people at a party want to hear Maxfield screaming at the top of his lungs for 5 minutes while he sits in time out. It could put a damper on the festivities.
Anyway, Max was doing pretty well playing with the other kids at the party. At one point, while Max was playing with some Lego blocks another boy tried to grab some of the pieces from Max. There were a dozen or so other Lego blocks strewn on the floor that the boy could have played with but he wanted the ones in Max’s hands. Max pulled the blocks away from the boy and gave him a stern “No.” I watched as the other boy tried again to grab the blocks from Max. The other boy’s father was talking to someone else and did not see the incident. Max raised his voice and said “NO”.
Max’s elevated volume drew the boy’s father’s attention. The boy’s father only saw Max pulling the toys away. He did not see the boy grabbing at Max. In my opinion the other kid was wrong and this is where and I tried to intercede with PDP.
“Maxfield.” I said. “You should share.”
He looked up at me, and in a very reasonable tone said, “But Dad, I don’t want to.” He then made a motion with his arms as if to show me all the other blocks on the floor.
I thought for a second and realized he made a very good point. I tried to convince the other little boy that the other blocks were there for him to play with. The boy moved on to go and play with other toys.
While driving home from the party I mentioned the incident to Lauren, “What is sharing?” I asked. “It seems to me to be an abstract concept and that is difficult to teach. I agreed with Max that he shouldn’t have to share those blocks.”
Lauren responded, “It is nicety. A courtesy. A social skill that he needs to learn.”
“I get that. But it is not something that is appropriate in every circumstance. It is difficult to explain, in that situation, that he does not need to share.”
“But he should learn to share.” She said.
“But the way I look at it, if a total stranger came up to me and tried to take my car, I shouldn’t have to share. What if one of the fathers at that party wanted me to share YOU? Should I share?” I said trying to make my point.
The look Lauren gave me, made her point.
This parenting thing is tough.
I say PDP because sometimes I do not enforce certain rules at home. I know, I know, I am supposed to be consistent with parenting and teaching my children how to behave, but sometimes I don’t necessarily agree with the common rules of parenting. And sometimes, the punishment for an infraction of my rules may not be appropriate to do in front of strangers. And the reaction of my kid, to some of the punishments, may not be appropriate for a party type of atmosphere. Really, I do not think that other people at a party want to hear Maxfield screaming at the top of his lungs for 5 minutes while he sits in time out. It could put a damper on the festivities.
Anyway, Max was doing pretty well playing with the other kids at the party. At one point, while Max was playing with some Lego blocks another boy tried to grab some of the pieces from Max. There were a dozen or so other Lego blocks strewn on the floor that the boy could have played with but he wanted the ones in Max’s hands. Max pulled the blocks away from the boy and gave him a stern “No.” I watched as the other boy tried again to grab the blocks from Max. The other boy’s father was talking to someone else and did not see the incident. Max raised his voice and said “NO”.
Max’s elevated volume drew the boy’s father’s attention. The boy’s father only saw Max pulling the toys away. He did not see the boy grabbing at Max. In my opinion the other kid was wrong and this is where and I tried to intercede with PDP.
“Maxfield.” I said. “You should share.”
He looked up at me, and in a very reasonable tone said, “But Dad, I don’t want to.” He then made a motion with his arms as if to show me all the other blocks on the floor.
I thought for a second and realized he made a very good point. I tried to convince the other little boy that the other blocks were there for him to play with. The boy moved on to go and play with other toys.
While driving home from the party I mentioned the incident to Lauren, “What is sharing?” I asked. “It seems to me to be an abstract concept and that is difficult to teach. I agreed with Max that he shouldn’t have to share those blocks.”
Lauren responded, “It is nicety. A courtesy. A social skill that he needs to learn.”
“I get that. But it is not something that is appropriate in every circumstance. It is difficult to explain, in that situation, that he does not need to share.”
“But he should learn to share.” She said.
“But the way I look at it, if a total stranger came up to me and tried to take my car, I shouldn’t have to share. What if one of the fathers at that party wanted me to share YOU? Should I share?” I said trying to make my point.
The look Lauren gave me, made her point.
This parenting thing is tough.
Thursday, August 02, 2007
Pics
I have been playing with the different settings on my camera. I do not know what any of the settings are supossed to do. Every now and then I am surprised.
Wednesday, August 01, 2007
Testing
I know that Maxfield is only 3, well 3 years and 5 months to be exact, but I am starting to become concerned about his future education. He is already showing signs that he may not do very well in school. I am trying to come to terms with the fact that he may not get an academic scholarship. I don’t know how he will get good grades in basic elementary school classes.
Take Math for instance. He knows his numbers. He can count but when it comes to simple addition and subtraction he seems to just not get it as evidenced by this very common conversation in our house.
“Dad, can I have a cookie?”
“Sure Max. But just one.”
He reaches into the cookie jar and pulls out two Oreos and places one in each hand.
“Max, I said just one.”
“I only have one.” He says holding up his left hand.
“No you have two.” I say pointing to his right hand.
“No I only have one.” He says holding up his right hand. “And I only have one here.” Again with the left hand held up.
“But Max, one plus one equals two, and I said you could only have one.”
“NO! I only have one here and one here. That is only one.”
He is having trouble with basic math, so I was thinking that maybe he will excel in English class. But then I started to think what English consists of, Reading Comprehension, Sentence Structure. Punctuation, Grammar, and I know I suck at these, so he does not have much hope.
Take Reading Comprehension for example. I have to read the same book to him 4 or 5 times a night.
“….and the little red caboose saved the train. The end.”
“Read it again Daddy.”
“But I just read it. Let’s read another book.”
“No. Read Little Read Caboose again.”
I don’t think he comprehends the story.
His English and Math skills are lacking, maybe he will take an interest in History. History is not so much about remembering dates but more about learning about how events have shaped us as mankind. Dates are important because, what has happened before, shapes the future. I don’t think Max understands this.
“Daddy can I play with my trains?”
“Sure. Where are they?”
“Mommy took them away.”
“Why?”
“Because I hit Wyatt.”
“Well then no you cannot play with your trains.”
“Why.”
“Because you have to learn not to hit Wyatt.”
“But that was before. I want to play with my trains now.”
I don’t think he gets history.
I think I am going to have to start working on his athletic abilities in hopes of him getting a scholarship.
Take Math for instance. He knows his numbers. He can count but when it comes to simple addition and subtraction he seems to just not get it as evidenced by this very common conversation in our house.
“Dad, can I have a cookie?”
“Sure Max. But just one.”
He reaches into the cookie jar and pulls out two Oreos and places one in each hand.
“Max, I said just one.”
“I only have one.” He says holding up his left hand.
“No you have two.” I say pointing to his right hand.
“No I only have one.” He says holding up his right hand. “And I only have one here.” Again with the left hand held up.
“But Max, one plus one equals two, and I said you could only have one.”
“NO! I only have one here and one here. That is only one.”
He is having trouble with basic math, so I was thinking that maybe he will excel in English class. But then I started to think what English consists of, Reading Comprehension, Sentence Structure. Punctuation, Grammar, and I know I suck at these, so he does not have much hope.
Take Reading Comprehension for example. I have to read the same book to him 4 or 5 times a night.
“….and the little red caboose saved the train. The end.”
“Read it again Daddy.”
“But I just read it. Let’s read another book.”
“No. Read Little Read Caboose again.”
I don’t think he comprehends the story.
His English and Math skills are lacking, maybe he will take an interest in History. History is not so much about remembering dates but more about learning about how events have shaped us as mankind. Dates are important because, what has happened before, shapes the future. I don’t think Max understands this.
“Daddy can I play with my trains?”
“Sure. Where are they?”
“Mommy took them away.”
“Why?”
“Because I hit Wyatt.”
“Well then no you cannot play with your trains.”
“Why.”
“Because you have to learn not to hit Wyatt.”
“But that was before. I want to play with my trains now.”
I don’t think he gets history.
I think I am going to have to start working on his athletic abilities in hopes of him getting a scholarship.
Monday, July 30, 2007
Friends
I am blessed that I have a lot of friends, real life friends that I have had since grade school and high school. Sure, I have new friends from work and theater and from different stages in my life, but for the most part the friends that I see and hang out with now are the same people I hung out with for the past 20 to 25 years. Every few months someone hosts a gathering and we all get together.
Yesterday Lori and Paul hosted. By my count there were 17 adults and 15 children. It was a great time. There were great conversations and updates regarding everyone’s lives and it was all interrupted by “Stop that.”, “No honey, you need to share.”, “Have you seen my kid?” and so forth.
Most of my friends read Poop and Boogies. Yesterday my friend Susan, we met when we were 14 years old, asked me “What do I need to do to make it on Poop and Boogies?”
I laughed and had some kind of smart-ass comment, but it was left at that. But her question got me to thinking: Why haven’t I posted more about my friends?
I guess the main reason is the fact that I was Orlando for the past two years and that I did not see them all that often. Another reason is I don’t want to offend anyone. Sure, my family is fair game when it comes to posting but I am not sure how my friends would take it. I have a history of putting my foot in my mouth and offending them face-to-face and I am not sure of what the implications would be if I offended them on the Internet.
I do want to say, I am very proud of the fact that they consider me their friend and that is something worth blogging about.
Oh, and Susan, another way to get mentioned, here, is to announce in a room full of people, “Tara, I just wanted let you know that my family really enjoyed playing Pass the Pickle with your family.”
I am not sure what that means but I found it funny.
Yesterday Lori and Paul hosted. By my count there were 17 adults and 15 children. It was a great time. There were great conversations and updates regarding everyone’s lives and it was all interrupted by “Stop that.”, “No honey, you need to share.”, “Have you seen my kid?” and so forth.
Most of my friends read Poop and Boogies. Yesterday my friend Susan, we met when we were 14 years old, asked me “What do I need to do to make it on Poop and Boogies?”
I laughed and had some kind of smart-ass comment, but it was left at that. But her question got me to thinking: Why haven’t I posted more about my friends?
I guess the main reason is the fact that I was Orlando for the past two years and that I did not see them all that often. Another reason is I don’t want to offend anyone. Sure, my family is fair game when it comes to posting but I am not sure how my friends would take it. I have a history of putting my foot in my mouth and offending them face-to-face and I am not sure of what the implications would be if I offended them on the Internet.
I do want to say, I am very proud of the fact that they consider me their friend and that is something worth blogging about.
Oh, and Susan, another way to get mentioned, here, is to announce in a room full of people, “Tara, I just wanted let you know that my family really enjoyed playing Pass the Pickle with your family.”
I am not sure what that means but I found it funny.
Wednesday, July 25, 2007
Corner Bar
Sometimes when I think of Blogging and what it means to me I often picture it as a bar. You know what I mean, right? Like the Blog-o-sphere is my little local corner hang out joint where I go for happy hour. I catch up on the latest gossip and I hear about what is going on with other people.
I call the little bar “Favorites” because that is where all the regulars are listed in my web browser. It is filled with friends but more so with acquaintances. People I only know little tidbits about and whom I exchange casual dialog in the format of comments and posts.
All of those people are gathered at my corner bar. I like the corner bar. I enjoy the atmosphere. Everyone seems friendly and I enjoy the chitchat. Sure sometimes there are bad stories or sad stories, but for the most part the people that hang out at "Favorites" are my kind of people: Upbeat, funny and good story tellers.
There is young couple, sipping beers, at the high top table in the middle of the room. They are chuckling to themselves about their workday. He is peeling the label off his beer bottle and putting the pieces on the table. She immediately cleans them up and drops them in the ashtray.
Over by the small stage, standing by the railing, leafing through the Karaoke book is Paige and Cat. They are laughing at the possibility of singing a duet. They can’t decide between Captain and Tennile or Kiki Dee and Elton John. Their husbands are sitting at a table next to them egging them on.
On a stool at the bar, sitting facing the room, drink in hand, is Bucky. She is sharing her stories with the bartender and the small group of ladies with her. There are two wet rings on the bar behind her where her last drinks rested. They seem like they are out for the night. If this is their first stop, god help the rest of the town.
OTJ and Steve are talking politics and parenting with Chris and Kami right near where the bar top curves towards the waitress station. MD just ordered a scotch and is about to join in on the conversation.
The booths that line the right side of the bar are some new comers. They either just found "Favorites" or were brought here by friends. They seem funny and like they are enjoying themselves and it appears they may make "Favorites" a regular hangout.
When I enter I try to get a feel for the room. Which table or spot should I stop by first? I can just swing by a few tables and say hello, but I decide to settle on my spot next to the Mega Touch Machine.
Tonight I may just people watch but I am in good company.
I call the little bar “Favorites” because that is where all the regulars are listed in my web browser. It is filled with friends but more so with acquaintances. People I only know little tidbits about and whom I exchange casual dialog in the format of comments and posts.
All of those people are gathered at my corner bar. I like the corner bar. I enjoy the atmosphere. Everyone seems friendly and I enjoy the chitchat. Sure sometimes there are bad stories or sad stories, but for the most part the people that hang out at "Favorites" are my kind of people: Upbeat, funny and good story tellers.
On most days when you first walk in "Favorites" you are greeted with the sound of packed bar, various conversations and laughter bouncing off the walls. As you squint to adjust to the dim lighting you realize that it is not as crowded as you thought and that there is plenty of room to make yourself comfortable. There are a few people at the bar and many scattered at different tables and booths all enjoying the company of the rest of the patrons.
In the corner booth, nursing a Rye whisky, is Nilbo. He is entertaining a group of ladies of various ages. The all have smiles on their faces and he has a twinkle in his eye and it is hard to tell if he has been at the bar for a while or not.
Two tables over is Susie, enjoying a glass of wine with her sisters. They are not really her sisters but as an outsider you couldn’t tell.There is young couple, sipping beers, at the high top table in the middle of the room. They are chuckling to themselves about their workday. He is peeling the label off his beer bottle and putting the pieces on the table. She immediately cleans them up and drops them in the ashtray.
Over by the small stage, standing by the railing, leafing through the Karaoke book is Paige and Cat. They are laughing at the possibility of singing a duet. They can’t decide between Captain and Tennile or Kiki Dee and Elton John. Their husbands are sitting at a table next to them egging them on.
On a stool at the bar, sitting facing the room, drink in hand, is Bucky. She is sharing her stories with the bartender and the small group of ladies with her. There are two wet rings on the bar behind her where her last drinks rested. They seem like they are out for the night. If this is their first stop, god help the rest of the town.
OTJ and Steve are talking politics and parenting with Chris and Kami right near where the bar top curves towards the waitress station. MD just ordered a scotch and is about to join in on the conversation.
The booths that line the right side of the bar are some new comers. They either just found "Favorites" or were brought here by friends. They seem funny and like they are enjoying themselves and it appears they may make "Favorites" a regular hangout.
When I enter I try to get a feel for the room. Which table or spot should I stop by first? I can just swing by a few tables and say hello, but I decide to settle on my spot next to the Mega Touch Machine.
Tonight I may just people watch but I am in good company.
Villain
At 4:40 AM this morning, Lauren nudged me awake; Maxfield was in his room screaming crying.
Any time Maxfield is upset, 99.9 % of the time, he wants his dad. I quickly jumped out of bed and went into his room to settle him down before he woke the entire house. He was not awake, but he was not asleep. He was at that weird in between state.
I crouched down next to him and tried to coax him back to sleep. Stroking his hair I soothingly said, "It's okay. Daddy is here Max. Shhhhhh. It's okay."
He wailed some more.
"Max?" I whispered, not wanting to wake him up completely if I did not need to, "Are you hurt?"
His eyes still closed he screamed, "I had a bad dream and someone tried to take my candy away."
"It was just a dream." I said. "It will be all right."
He sobbed. I felt so bad.
"I want (sniff) my (sniff) candy." He squeaked to the person in his dream. He was clearly upset.
I tired to comfort him some more. "Go to sleep. It was just a dream." I said. "No one is going to take your candy. We have plenty of can-"
I stopped talking.
Wait a minute. I thought to myself, Is he really asleep? Is he just playing me? Is he going to wake up and ask for candy right now because Daddy said we have plenty of candy? Is he going to use this later on in the day as a reason to get candy? Does a three year old know the difference between the dream world and reality? Am I being suckered? How am I supposed to comfort him about the candy and not tell him I am going to give him candy? He is crying because someone in his dream took candy and I need to calm him down and one of the ways to do that is to offer candy. But if I offer candy and he is awake, I am screwed, but if he is still asleep than offering candy would calm him down and I can go back to bed. I need more information. I should ask him who took his cand----
Maxfield wailed. It snapped me out of my own thoughts.
"Maxfield. It's okay. I'm here."
"I want my mommy." He screamed.
"What?"
"I want my mommy."
"Mommy is asleep. I am here. It's okay."
"Noooooo!"
Usually a few seconds from Dad is all it takes to calm down Max from a bad dream. I could not figure it out. I gently rubbed his belly and chest and continued to whisper reassurances. His breathing settled into a steady pace. He was drifting back to a deeper slumber.
"Max?" I said, barley audible. "Who took your candy?
He inhaled deeply, rolled slightly to his side to his favorable sleeping position, and on his exhale he said "Daddy." And he was asleep.
What? I was the bad guy in his dream? I thought. No wonder I could not calm him down. That is like looking for comfort from the Boogie Man. That is like Lawnwhisperer seeking comfort from a Dentist with a dog. Or Lauren cuddling up to a snake when she is scared. No, I could not have been the bad guy. Could I? I am usually the hero. But he did ask for his mom.
Crap.
I can't believe it.
I was the villain.
Any time Maxfield is upset, 99.9 % of the time, he wants his dad. I quickly jumped out of bed and went into his room to settle him down before he woke the entire house. He was not awake, but he was not asleep. He was at that weird in between state.
I crouched down next to him and tried to coax him back to sleep. Stroking his hair I soothingly said, "It's okay. Daddy is here Max. Shhhhhh. It's okay."
He wailed some more.
"Max?" I whispered, not wanting to wake him up completely if I did not need to, "Are you hurt?"
His eyes still closed he screamed, "I had a bad dream and someone tried to take my candy away."
"It was just a dream." I said. "It will be all right."
He sobbed. I felt so bad.
"I want (sniff) my (sniff) candy." He squeaked to the person in his dream. He was clearly upset.
I tired to comfort him some more. "Go to sleep. It was just a dream." I said. "No one is going to take your candy. We have plenty of can-"
I stopped talking.
Wait a minute. I thought to myself, Is he really asleep? Is he just playing me? Is he going to wake up and ask for candy right now because Daddy said we have plenty of candy? Is he going to use this later on in the day as a reason to get candy? Does a three year old know the difference between the dream world and reality? Am I being suckered? How am I supposed to comfort him about the candy and not tell him I am going to give him candy? He is crying because someone in his dream took candy and I need to calm him down and one of the ways to do that is to offer candy. But if I offer candy and he is awake, I am screwed, but if he is still asleep than offering candy would calm him down and I can go back to bed. I need more information. I should ask him who took his cand----
Maxfield wailed. It snapped me out of my own thoughts.
"Maxfield. It's okay. I'm here."
"I want my mommy." He screamed.
"What?"
"I want my mommy."
"Mommy is asleep. I am here. It's okay."
"Noooooo!"
Usually a few seconds from Dad is all it takes to calm down Max from a bad dream. I could not figure it out. I gently rubbed his belly and chest and continued to whisper reassurances. His breathing settled into a steady pace. He was drifting back to a deeper slumber.
"Max?" I said, barley audible. "Who took your candy?
He inhaled deeply, rolled slightly to his side to his favorable sleeping position, and on his exhale he said "Daddy." And he was asleep.
What? I was the bad guy in his dream? I thought. No wonder I could not calm him down. That is like looking for comfort from the Boogie Man. That is like Lawnwhisperer seeking comfort from a Dentist with a dog. Or Lauren cuddling up to a snake when she is scared. No, I could not have been the bad guy. Could I? I am usually the hero. But he did ask for his mom.
Crap.
I can't believe it.
I was the villain.
Tuesday, July 24, 2007
A long time ago.
Lately we have been reading to Maxfield a book about dinosaurs. Either in the book or in our conversations about the dinosaurs we talk about how dinosaurs were around a long, long, time ago. I guess it helps Max not be scared to know that T-Rex and friends are not currently on this earth.
Last night my mom was telling a story about how “a long time ago” she rode a train from Philly to Georgia to see my dad when he was in the army.
Max interrupted her and asked, “Did you see any dinosaurs?”
Age and a “long time ago” are all relative.
Last night my mom was telling a story about how “a long time ago” she rode a train from Philly to Georgia to see my dad when he was in the army.
Max interrupted her and asked, “Did you see any dinosaurs?”
Age and a “long time ago” are all relative.
Monday, July 23, 2007
Competition
If the people over at the Blogger Choice Awards had a category for Hottest Wife of a Blogger or maybe Cutest Kids of a Blogger, I think I would be a lock for first place.Thursday, July 19, 2007
Portrait
Last night we went to pick up portraits of Maxfield and Wyatt that we had done at Sears Portrait place.
As with most portrait places there were pictures of little kids in cute poses all over the place, a little girl with giant flower props, a little boy in an oversized wagon, a baby sleeping on bed of feathers etc. etc. There were family portraits, mom and dad and the three kids all wearing the same outfit, white shirts and denim (although the father's head was rather large). And then there was the picture of the Calvin Klein Model-esque fathers, with no shirts holding their baby (Kind of like this).
I pointed to one of the Calvin Klein type of photos of a man laying on his stomach, no shirt, super tan, and cut like a tri-athlete. On his back was a baby, Buddha like and all pale and pudgy and cute. I said to Lauren, “Do you remember when I looked like that?”
Without missing a beat she replied, “What, the chubby one on top?”
As with most portrait places there were pictures of little kids in cute poses all over the place, a little girl with giant flower props, a little boy in an oversized wagon, a baby sleeping on bed of feathers etc. etc. There were family portraits, mom and dad and the three kids all wearing the same outfit, white shirts and denim (although the father's head was rather large). And then there was the picture of the Calvin Klein Model-esque fathers, with no shirts holding their baby (Kind of like this).
I pointed to one of the Calvin Klein type of photos of a man laying on his stomach, no shirt, super tan, and cut like a tri-athlete. On his back was a baby, Buddha like and all pale and pudgy and cute. I said to Lauren, “Do you remember when I looked like that?”
Without missing a beat she replied, “What, the chubby one on top?”
Wednesday, July 18, 2007
Tuesday, July 17, 2007
Rash
Wyatt has a horrible diaper rash. I was changing him on the living room floor and I was asking my mom and Lauren what they think we should do about it: Powder or cream?
“I think it is because he is walking now.” I said. “It just keeps getting rubbed raw.”
“The creams always seem to work before.” Lauren said. “I don’t why the rash is so bad.”
My mom chimed in. “It could be anything. Did you change his milk? Or maybe his diet? It could be his teeth.”
“I don’t think he could get his teeth down there.” I said. “And if he could I would be really impressed.”
“I think it is because he is walking now.” I said. “It just keeps getting rubbed raw.”
“The creams always seem to work before.” Lauren said. “I don’t why the rash is so bad.”
My mom chimed in. “It could be anything. Did you change his milk? Or maybe his diet? It could be his teeth.”
“I don’t think he could get his teeth down there.” I said. “And if he could I would be really impressed.”
Friday, July 13, 2007
MLT
Lauren,
You are better than an MLT. Even if the mutton is nice and lean and the tomatoes are perky.
As you wish.
Bill
(pics from the toast. Here and here and here. )
You are better than an MLT. Even if the mutton is nice and lean and the tomatoes are perky.
As you wish.
Bill
(pics from the toast. Here and here and here. )
Thursday, July 12, 2007
Shirts
“Lauren, all of my shirts are shrinking.”
“What?”
“They don’t fit right anymore. I think maybe it is my parent’s washer and dryer that are shrinking them.”
“You have had those shirts for years. I don’t think it has anything to do with their washer and dryer. I am thinking maybe something else is making them feel smaller.”
I think she is insinuating that I am getting taller.
“What?”
“They don’t fit right anymore. I think maybe it is my parent’s washer and dryer that are shrinking them.”
“You have had those shirts for years. I don’t think it has anything to do with their washer and dryer. I am thinking maybe something else is making them feel smaller.”
I think she is insinuating that I am getting taller.
Tuesday, July 10, 2007
Is it just me
Did you ever, you know when you go to the bank or the post office or Starbucks, pull into the parking lot at the same time as other cars, and those people in the other cars get out at the same time as you and so you hurry just a bit to get to the door first just so you are not standing in line behind a few more people, but you don’t really run or make it look like you are trying to beat those other people, you just kind of pick up the pace in an effort to be ahead of them?
Sometimes I reach the door just a few paces ahead of those people, not a big enough gap where I can just walk right in and let them worry about opening the door themselves, but a small gap where I feel bad and then I am stuck holding the door for them and I have to, by default that I am somewhat polite, let them enter ahead of me.
It is those times, where I want to tell those people that I was the actual winner of my secret race and that they should let me ahead of them in line.
You know what I am talking about...right?
Sometimes I reach the door just a few paces ahead of those people, not a big enough gap where I can just walk right in and let them worry about opening the door themselves, but a small gap where I feel bad and then I am stuck holding the door for them and I have to, by default that I am somewhat polite, let them enter ahead of me.
It is those times, where I want to tell those people that I was the actual winner of my secret race and that they should let me ahead of them in line.
You know what I am talking about...right?
Monday, July 09, 2007
Brainiac
I had a dream the other night in which I won 4 million dollars. In the dream, the money was earning about 300 dollars a day in interest.
There were other details in the dream that I shared with Lauren the next morning and I asked her to help me figure out if the 300 dollars a day was accurate. I wanted to find out if my subconscious was smart enough to add the interest correctly. I wanted to check to see if my brain, while asleep, actually did the math the right way.
We sat on the couch, sipping coffee trying to add numbers in my head. I would multiply the numbers then do some division and tell Lauren and then she would correct me saying something about interest being compounded annually or something. I would try again but then my math would be off. I would try again and I would forget to carry the one.
It turns out I am smarter when I am asleep.
There were other details in the dream that I shared with Lauren the next morning and I asked her to help me figure out if the 300 dollars a day was accurate. I wanted to find out if my subconscious was smart enough to add the interest correctly. I wanted to check to see if my brain, while asleep, actually did the math the right way.
We sat on the couch, sipping coffee trying to add numbers in my head. I would multiply the numbers then do some division and tell Lauren and then she would correct me saying something about interest being compounded annually or something. I would try again but then my math would be off. I would try again and I would forget to carry the one.
It turns out I am smarter when I am asleep.
Friday, July 06, 2007
Clean
“I gotta go potty.” Maxfield yelled from the top of the bridge that connected the sliding board and the fake rock wall.
“Okay. Hurry down.” I called back up to him.
Instead of taking the easy way down, the slide, he turned back towards the rock wall and climbed down. Half way down he started the “jig”. Most parents know the “jig”. I reached up and lifted him off the wall and I carried him to the bathroom about 30 yards away.
Bathrooms at public playgrounds are always interesting. They are rarely cleaned nor kept up. As we entered the cinderblock and concrete floored facility I could tell it was well used that day. Both urinals were too tall for Max to use so we went to one of the stalls in the back of the restroom.
“I have to pee too.” I said as Max finished. I pulled up his pants and I opened the stall door. “Go wash your hands.”
I angled myself in the tiny stall so I could keep an eye on Max. He walked past the urinals and headed over the sink and I could hear him hit the push top faucet.
“I need soap.” He said.
“I’ll be right there.” I said as I continued to go. I knew the soap dispenser was too high for him to reach. Out of the corner of my eye I could see him walk back towards me.
“I got some.” He said.
“That’s weird.” I thought to myself. “How did he reach the soap?”
I zipped up and flushed the toilet. I walked over the sink and there was Max holding the pink urinal block sanitizer that he took from one of the urinals. He was rubbing it on his hands.
“Okay. Hurry down.” I called back up to him.
Instead of taking the easy way down, the slide, he turned back towards the rock wall and climbed down. Half way down he started the “jig”. Most parents know the “jig”. I reached up and lifted him off the wall and I carried him to the bathroom about 30 yards away.
Bathrooms at public playgrounds are always interesting. They are rarely cleaned nor kept up. As we entered the cinderblock and concrete floored facility I could tell it was well used that day. Both urinals were too tall for Max to use so we went to one of the stalls in the back of the restroom.
“I have to pee too.” I said as Max finished. I pulled up his pants and I opened the stall door. “Go wash your hands.”
I angled myself in the tiny stall so I could keep an eye on Max. He walked past the urinals and headed over the sink and I could hear him hit the push top faucet.
“I need soap.” He said.
“I’ll be right there.” I said as I continued to go. I knew the soap dispenser was too high for him to reach. Out of the corner of my eye I could see him walk back towards me.
“I got some.” He said.
“That’s weird.” I thought to myself. “How did he reach the soap?”
I zipped up and flushed the toilet. I walked over the sink and there was Max holding the pink urinal block sanitizer that he took from one of the urinals. He was rubbing it on his hands.
Tuesday, July 03, 2007
July 4th
Happy Independence Day.If you have the day off, do something you enjoy doing.
My mom offically becomes a senior citizen on July 4th. Wish her a happy birthday.
Monday, July 02, 2007
eHarmony
"Hey? Do you think that if you and I put our sepearate profiles on eHarmony that we would be a match with their 29 dimensions of compatibility?"
"Hah! No way."
"Hah! No way."
Friday, June 29, 2007
Cold Duck
There is an episode of Welcome Back Kotter, where Freddy "Boom Boom" Washington gets hooked on drugs. In an effort to show their friend the bad effect of drugs, Juan Epstein, Vinny Barbarino and Horshack act like they are on drugs themselves.
Vinny Barbarino, played by John Travolta, does his best to act like one of those "druggie people" and he slouches around saying, "Gimme drugs, gimme drugs." I remember seeing this episode when I was a kid and I always found it funny.
Two weeks ago we took Maxfield's pacifier away from him. He only used it at night for comfort at bedtime. We made him quit cold turkey. The first few nights were rough, but after that he seemed to do okay.
Wyatt, who has never used a pacifier, has recently found some. Wyatt does not suck on them but more or less chews on them to ease the pain of teething. Every now and then, when Max is helping us put Wyatt to bed, he see the pacifiers in Wyatt's crib and he asks for one.
He sounds just like Vinny Barbarino in this video clip. Except Max says, "Gimme binks, Gimme binks."
Vinny Barbarino, played by John Travolta, does his best to act like one of those "druggie people" and he slouches around saying, "Gimme drugs, gimme drugs." I remember seeing this episode when I was a kid and I always found it funny.
Two weeks ago we took Maxfield's pacifier away from him. He only used it at night for comfort at bedtime. We made him quit cold turkey. The first few nights were rough, but after that he seemed to do okay.
Wyatt, who has never used a pacifier, has recently found some. Wyatt does not suck on them but more or less chews on them to ease the pain of teething. Every now and then, when Max is helping us put Wyatt to bed, he see the pacifiers in Wyatt's crib and he asks for one.
He sounds just like Vinny Barbarino in this video clip. Except Max says, "Gimme binks, Gimme binks."
Thursday, June 28, 2007
10 years ago
Ten years ago, today, I met my wife (who I sometimes refer to as my ex-girldfriend because once we got married she was no longer my girlfriend) Lauren.
This morning, as I sat in my parent's kitchen, I smiled at her and said, "Happy Anniversary of the night we met."
She smiled back and said, "Yeah, and look where we are now."
We both laughed and after a moment of reflection she said "Isn't it amazing how the littlest of things can all add up to something big?"
We then chatted about all the little things about the night we met and how if the slightest of circumstances would have been different we may not be married now. The complete story is here. We talked about me sitting with my friend PJ, waiting for my food, and the fact if I did not have to wait the few extra minutes, I would not have talked to her.
"Would you still have noticed me though?" Lauren asked sipping her coffee.
"Oh yeah. PJ and I were doing the whole "check her out" thing that guys do." I said. "But if someone in that kitchen was on the ball that night, and I got my food on time, I would have eaten and left. I would never have talked to you. I wonder what would have happened?"
Lauren laughed. "I would probably be married to PJ."
I love my ex-girlfriend.
This morning, as I sat in my parent's kitchen, I smiled at her and said, "Happy Anniversary of the night we met."
She smiled back and said, "Yeah, and look where we are now."
We both laughed and after a moment of reflection she said "Isn't it amazing how the littlest of things can all add up to something big?"
We then chatted about all the little things about the night we met and how if the slightest of circumstances would have been different we may not be married now. The complete story is here. We talked about me sitting with my friend PJ, waiting for my food, and the fact if I did not have to wait the few extra minutes, I would not have talked to her.
"Would you still have noticed me though?" Lauren asked sipping her coffee.
"Oh yeah. PJ and I were doing the whole "check her out" thing that guys do." I said. "But if someone in that kitchen was on the ball that night, and I got my food on time, I would have eaten and left. I would never have talked to you. I wonder what would have happened?"
Lauren laughed. "I would probably be married to PJ."
I love my ex-girlfriend.
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
Monday, June 25, 2007
Stores are too close
The place on the right is owned by the same people as the place on the left. The place on the right does manicures and pedicures etc. The place on the left serves delicious Chinese food except their rice is really really crunchy.Friday, June 22, 2007
Kibbles and Bits
A few weeks ago we attended a graduation party for my cousin. There were tons of people there and the weather was not the best so most were confined inside the house. My aunt, who was throwing the party, has two dogs. Knowing that not all people are dog people, she locked them in a crate in a bedroom at the top of the steps. Anytime someone arrived, the dogs would bark and it piqued the interest of Maxfield. He wanted to see the dogs.
There were several children in Max’s age group that wanted to see the dogs as well. Every now and then they would gather at the bottom of the steps and I would walk them up to pet the dogs through the wires of the dog crate. Half way up the steps, most of the other children would become fearful and go back downstairs. Except for Max and Ryan. Max and Ryan, both three years old and both “dog owners” themselves, made the trip upstairs about a dozen times.
At one point, my cousin MB and her boyfriend, the owners of the male cocker spaniel, had to take the dog outside so it could pee. Max and Ryan couldn’t wait to be able to pet the dog once it was outside the confines of the crate. I took them both outside onto the porch and waited for dog to finish its business.
MB’s boyfriend walked the dog back to the porch and offered Max a Ryan a chance to play with dog. He was real careful to explain to me that the dog was still a puppy and somewhat jumpy. He held the dog tight by the collar while the boys gently scratched its chin and ears. The dog's tail was wagging with appreciation.
Seeing how much the dog was enjoying the attention and that Max and Ryan were not afraid he said, “Guys? You want to scratch the dog’s belly? He really likes that.”
They both nodded.
MB’s boyfriend then crouched down, picked up the dog and sort of cradled it exposing the dog’s underside. MB’s boyfriend then stood up putting the dog’s underside at eye level to the boys.
And before I could even get any words out of my mouth I watched both Max and Ryan reach directly towards the dog’s pecker and rub vigorously.
The dog, suddenly, was extremely happy.
There were several children in Max’s age group that wanted to see the dogs as well. Every now and then they would gather at the bottom of the steps and I would walk them up to pet the dogs through the wires of the dog crate. Half way up the steps, most of the other children would become fearful and go back downstairs. Except for Max and Ryan. Max and Ryan, both three years old and both “dog owners” themselves, made the trip upstairs about a dozen times.
At one point, my cousin MB and her boyfriend, the owners of the male cocker spaniel, had to take the dog outside so it could pee. Max and Ryan couldn’t wait to be able to pet the dog once it was outside the confines of the crate. I took them both outside onto the porch and waited for dog to finish its business.
MB’s boyfriend walked the dog back to the porch and offered Max a Ryan a chance to play with dog. He was real careful to explain to me that the dog was still a puppy and somewhat jumpy. He held the dog tight by the collar while the boys gently scratched its chin and ears. The dog's tail was wagging with appreciation.
Seeing how much the dog was enjoying the attention and that Max and Ryan were not afraid he said, “Guys? You want to scratch the dog’s belly? He really likes that.”
They both nodded.
MB’s boyfriend then crouched down, picked up the dog and sort of cradled it exposing the dog’s underside. MB’s boyfriend then stood up putting the dog’s underside at eye level to the boys.
And before I could even get any words out of my mouth I watched both Max and Ryan reach directly towards the dog’s pecker and rub vigorously.
The dog, suddenly, was extremely happy.
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
Overkill
I like music. My tastes are all over the place, but for the most part I like songs that I can sing to when I am alone in my car.
If you grew up as a child of the 80’s, like I did, you may be familiar with the band Men at Work. Their videos were on MTV and they were quite popular. Although, I have to admit there was only one person that I knew in middle school, that actually claimed she was a fan and that was my friend Tara*. We used to mock her for liking Men At Work, because seriously, how could you like a band like that, when there were bands like Asia , Styx and Foreigner?
Anyway, Colin Hay, the lead singer of Men at Work, did an acoustic version of the Song Overkill for something or other, that ended up on the TV show Scrubs soundtrack CD. I listen to that CD all the time because it has a great mix of songs that I can belt out, to and from work.
The Overkill lyrics start with:
“I can’t get to sleep,
I think about the implications,
Of diving in too deep,
and possibly the complications.”
If you are familiar with this song you are probably singing it to yourself right now. The song is about laying awake at night feeling stressed out.
The chorus of the song is:
“Day after Day it appears,
Night after night my heartbeat shows the fear,
Nurse a beer and fade away.
Come back another day.”
Yesterday while driving to work, I didn’t feel like singing. I just listened. As the chorus part played my face reddened with the flush of embarrassment. I was embarrassed for myself and at myself.
The lyrics are “Ghosts appear and fade away.”
NOT “Nurse a beer and fade away.”
I have been singing this song incorrectly for a couple of years now.
Have you ever done that? What song and lyrics have you messed up?
*Dear Tara,
About two years ago I ended up buying the Best of Men At Work CD and I really like it. You were ahead of your time. I apologize about ridiculing your taste in music, except Duran Duran. I still think they suck.
If you grew up as a child of the 80’s, like I did, you may be familiar with the band Men at Work. Their videos were on MTV and they were quite popular. Although, I have to admit there was only one person that I knew in middle school, that actually claimed she was a fan and that was my friend Tara*. We used to mock her for liking Men At Work, because seriously, how could you like a band like that, when there were bands like Asia , Styx and Foreigner?
Anyway, Colin Hay, the lead singer of Men at Work, did an acoustic version of the Song Overkill for something or other, that ended up on the TV show Scrubs soundtrack CD. I listen to that CD all the time because it has a great mix of songs that I can belt out, to and from work.
The Overkill lyrics start with:
“I can’t get to sleep,
I think about the implications,
Of diving in too deep,
and possibly the complications.”
If you are familiar with this song you are probably singing it to yourself right now. The song is about laying awake at night feeling stressed out.
The chorus of the song is:
“Day after Day it appears,
Night after night my heartbeat shows the fear,
Nurse a beer and fade away.
Come back another day.”
Yesterday while driving to work, I didn’t feel like singing. I just listened. As the chorus part played my face reddened with the flush of embarrassment. I was embarrassed for myself and at myself.
The lyrics are “Ghosts appear and fade away.”
NOT “Nurse a beer and fade away.”
I have been singing this song incorrectly for a couple of years now.
Have you ever done that? What song and lyrics have you messed up?
*Dear Tara,
About two years ago I ended up buying the Best of Men At Work CD and I really like it. You were ahead of your time. I apologize about ridiculing your taste in music, except Duran Duran. I still think they suck.
Tuesday, June 19, 2007
How good she has it
Last week, Lauren and I were in bed watching Super Nanny. I don’t watch Super Nanny for the parenting tips. I watch it to feel better about how my kids behave. The kids on that show are edited to make them look like little demons and I always think, “At least my kids are not that bad.”
The other thing that Super Nanny shows is how, most often, one parent, usually the dad, is not pulling their own weight when it comes to raising the kids. The episode we were watching, the dad would come home from work and immediately go to the gym. He would not be around to give the mom a break.
I turned to Lauren and said, “See how good you have it Lauren? I don’t go to the gym.”
She turned her head slightly in my direction, her eyes scanned my body and they stopped at my belly. She said, “Oh, yes, I know that.”
The other thing that Super Nanny shows is how, most often, one parent, usually the dad, is not pulling their own weight when it comes to raising the kids. The episode we were watching, the dad would come home from work and immediately go to the gym. He would not be around to give the mom a break.
I turned to Lauren and said, “See how good you have it Lauren? I don’t go to the gym.”
She turned her head slightly in my direction, her eyes scanned my body and they stopped at my belly. She said, “Oh, yes, I know that.”
Monday, June 18, 2007
Father's Day
For the past 11 years, my family has spent Father's Day at Philadelphia Park Race Track. We, eat, drink and gamble (some more than others) and it is always a good time.
This year I was looking forward to bringing Maxfield to the track and teach him about horse racing. He is finally at the age where he can pronounce "trifecta" and could appreciate the finer points of heckling horses.
Since the races happen in the middle of the day and would conflict with Wyatt's nap time, Lauren decided to stay at her parents house with Wyatt.
Judging by the pictures and the fact that I lost 20 bucks, who do you think had a better afternoon?
"Where is our horse Daddy?"
Maxfield watching as our horse loses.
Wyatt raiding Mom Mom's liquor cabinet.
This year I was looking forward to bringing Maxfield to the track and teach him about horse racing. He is finally at the age where he can pronounce "trifecta" and could appreciate the finer points of heckling horses.
Since the races happen in the middle of the day and would conflict with Wyatt's nap time, Lauren decided to stay at her parents house with Wyatt.
Judging by the pictures and the fact that I lost 20 bucks, who do you think had a better afternoon?
"Where is our horse Daddy?"
Maxfield watching as our horse loses.
Wyatt raiding Mom Mom's liquor cabinet.
Sunday, June 17, 2007
Father is only half a word
Why is it always a Mother F-er and never a Father F-er?
For Father's Day you should click over to the BlogFathers. Once you are there you should click on some of the links to the other fathers that contribute to the Blogfathers. They are all some funny Fathers.
For Father's Day you should click over to the BlogFathers. Once you are there you should click on some of the links to the other fathers that contribute to the Blogfathers. They are all some funny Fathers.
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
Charlie. Oscar. David. Echo.
My last name is often misspelled. It ends with the letter “M” but most people, after I spell it out for them, hear the last letter as an “N”. My social security card is spelled with an “N”. My drivers license with an “M”. My insurance card has an “N”.
Now whenever I have to give out my email or spell my name for someone I always end the spelling of my name by saying, “M as in Mary”. People still get it wrong. I guess they think I say "N" as in Nary. I don't know why I use "Mary" instead of "Michael". I just do.
Part of my job, when talking with customers, requires me to use a series of letters and numbers. In an effort to avoid confusion with letters that sound the same, like “B” and “P” I use a phonetic alphabet. I do not use the official military Phonetic Alphabet (Alfa, Bravo, Charlie, Delta etc.) but I basically make it up as I go along. Most people just substitute common names or animals instead of the letter. I also don’t say the “as in” part (unless the situation requires that I do). Each word I use is the letter itself. So if I were to spell my first name for someone it would sound like “Baker, Indian, Larry, Larry.”
Sometimes I chuckle at some of the words people come up with when they are using their own phonetic alphabet. Recently someone was giving me a tracking number of some sorts and used “Champagne” and “Vodka” for the letters “C” and “V”. It gave a slight insight to what they were thinking.
So I am asking you, blog commenters, how would you, using as a phonetic alphabet, spell your first name? Don’t think too much about it; just leave a comment with how you would normally spell it out.
Now whenever I have to give out my email or spell my name for someone I always end the spelling of my name by saying, “M as in Mary”. People still get it wrong. I guess they think I say "N" as in Nary. I don't know why I use "Mary" instead of "Michael". I just do.
Part of my job, when talking with customers, requires me to use a series of letters and numbers. In an effort to avoid confusion with letters that sound the same, like “B” and “P” I use a phonetic alphabet. I do not use the official military Phonetic Alphabet (Alfa, Bravo, Charlie, Delta etc.) but I basically make it up as I go along. Most people just substitute common names or animals instead of the letter. I also don’t say the “as in” part (unless the situation requires that I do). Each word I use is the letter itself. So if I were to spell my first name for someone it would sound like “Baker, Indian, Larry, Larry.”
Sometimes I chuckle at some of the words people come up with when they are using their own phonetic alphabet. Recently someone was giving me a tracking number of some sorts and used “Champagne” and “Vodka” for the letters “C” and “V”. It gave a slight insight to what they were thinking.
So I am asking you, blog commenters, how would you, using as a phonetic alphabet, spell your first name? Don’t think too much about it; just leave a comment with how you would normally spell it out.
Monday, June 11, 2007
A year already?
They say "time flies", "they grow up so fast", etc. etc. Man it is amazing how true those statements are. Especially since I started keeping the blog and can look back at what I wrote and when.
Like this for instance. Can you believe that was a year ago? For the full story click here, here, and here.
Happy Birthday Wyatt Blue!
Like this for instance. Can you believe that was a year ago? For the full story click here, here, and here.
Happy Birthday Wyatt Blue!
Friday, June 08, 2007
I would use this guy
Let's face it, he is no Lawnwhisperer, but his name alone would make me hire him.
Wednesday, June 06, 2007
Can I borrow your towel. My car just hit a water buffalo.
Last night I had a proud parenting moment.
I was trying to get Maxfield to settle down for the night and I was letting him lay in my bed with me as we watched some TV. I started flipping through the channels in an effort to find something that Max could watch and that he would like. I came across the movie Fletch.
I put the clicker down and started to watch.
"Whats' that Daddy?" Max asked pointing to the TV.
"Only the second greatest movie ever." I said.
I laid down on my stomach and pulled a pillow under my chest. Max did the same. He was hooked. We watched in silence.
Fletch is one of those movies that, even though I own it on DVD, if I come across it on TV I have to watch it.
Do you have any movies like that?
I was trying to get Maxfield to settle down for the night and I was letting him lay in my bed with me as we watched some TV. I started flipping through the channels in an effort to find something that Max could watch and that he would like. I came across the movie Fletch.
I put the clicker down and started to watch.
"Whats' that Daddy?" Max asked pointing to the TV.
"Only the second greatest movie ever." I said.
I laid down on my stomach and pulled a pillow under my chest. Max did the same. He was hooked. We watched in silence.
Fletch is one of those movies that, even though I own it on DVD, if I come across it on TV I have to watch it.
Do you have any movies like that?
Tuesday, June 05, 2007
Bad address
We were driving to an appointment to look at a house when Lauren noticed an "Open House" sign on another street.
"Look Bill." Lauren said. "There is an open house down that road."
"Where?"
"On Dick Avenue." She replied. "Do you want to go?"
"No. I don't care how nice a house is, I could not live on a street named Dick Avenue. My brothers would have a field day with that address."
She laughed. "It would take your brothers about 20 years before they would take our address seriously...if ever."
"Look Bill." Lauren said. "There is an open house down that road."
"Where?"
"On Dick Avenue." She replied. "Do you want to go?"
"No. I don't care how nice a house is, I could not live on a street named Dick Avenue. My brothers would have a field day with that address."
She laughed. "It would take your brothers about 20 years before they would take our address seriously...if ever."
Monday, June 04, 2007
Friday, June 01, 2007
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