Impact

Saturday night Lauren and I attended a wedding reception at the same place we had our wedding and reception seven years ago.

The caterer remembered us. Okay, not really us, but our wedding.

The woman who manages the place, Sharon, remembered us. Okay, not really us, but our wedding. Sharon showed us some pictures from our wedding that she uses as examples to new clients. She told us how she tells newly engaged couples about the picnic settings, the croquet games and Frisbees we had at our wedding and how they were a great use of the grounds. She told us she thinks of our wedding often when she is meeting with new couples.

This made Lauren and I feel good.

Sharon also told us how she has changed the contract she presents to potential clients. Due to our wedding the contract now strictly prohibits silly string, scaling walls, bicycles on the hill as well as a few other minor changes.

This made Lauren and I very happy.

Signature 2

I have been grilling a bunch this summer and over the weekend I needed a refill on my propane tank. As usual I signed a fake name to my credit card/debit card receipt. Since I was buying propane for my grill, I decided to sign my credit receipt as Bobby Flay. I posted about how I always change my signatures on credit cards here.

Cooler Than David Boreanaz

I wrote a list ( here) back in January of some of the topics I wanted to cover in this blog for 2009. Some of the topics from the list I have already written about; some have not happened yet (like winning the lottery).

It has been a good couple of weeks for this blog.

One item from the New Year list happened two weeks ago while I was on vacation and I am just now realizing it. According to Sitemeter (one of the stat trackers I use) I had my 500,000th visit to Poop and Boogies some time around August 7th. According to other tracking sites I have had more than 500,000 visits over the past 4 1/2 years but Sitemeter is one of the easier ones to figure out and to see the 500,000 number on their site was a goal of mine.

Another item from the list, is that I have now broken the 1000th post mark. This post, the one you are reading right now, is my 1001 post. I can't believe it. A quick count shows that Poop and Boogies has also received over 20,000 comments over the past 4+ years. I am sure 9,000 of them are from my brother Anonymous trying to Blog Jack me (I define Blog Jack as when a comment on a post gets more reaction from other comment-ers than the actual post). I want to thank every one who stops by here and reads my blog. Whether you comment or not I can see from the stats that people stop and read what I have written. It means a lot to me and I am very thankful that you read but sometimes getting comments makes the blogging thing all worthwhile.

I heard an interesting story about a somewhat popular blogger who hated when the comments on his/her blog were funnier than his/her actual posts. Apparently he/she would send nasty emails to the comment-ers telling them they had no "blog manners" and that they were trying to steal his readers. I don't know if that blogger still does that but, man...what a douche bag. I welcome blog jackers. The funnier the better. I am so appreciative of the fact that someone actually is taking time to add their thoughts to something I wrote. I should do a better job at acknowledging comments. I like the Bloggess' approach to comments. Everyday she posts "The comment of the day" which is the comment that she thinks was the funniest to her. Maybe I should start doing that.

The other day I was on Facebook and I did a quick search for Poop and Boogies and I was shocked/astonished/pleasantly horrified that someone started a P&B Fan Club. I emailed Alisha, the person who started it, and asked if I could post about the Fan Club here and tell other Facebook-ers to go join. I warned her that my brothers may comment and ridicule the fan club. Her response was "and if your brothers make fun of it, just remind them about how many fan clubs they have. None. "

Alisha, thank you so much for flattering me. Alisha is the "Fan Club Member #001 Extraordinaire" of the Official Poop and Boogies Fan Club on Facebook. If you use Facebook, go and join.

Alisha also told me she is not a stalker and that I am cooler than the other person's Fan Club she was a part of like 10 or so year ago.

I am cooler than David Boreanaz.

It has been a good couple of weeks.

Model

My wife, although back to her pre-baby-pregnant-Jackson weight, was a bit concerned about wearing her new bathing suit on the beach last week.

She told me all the things she needed to consider when buying her new bathing suit, which I did not understand was such a complicated issue. She did not want an "old lady" suit. She wanted a two piece, but not a bikini. She did not want a "mom bathing suit" but at the same time she did not want a suit that said she was trying too hard to look young. She wanted something that looked good but was also comfortable and practical.

Like I said, it was complicated.

We were heading to the beach and I could tell she was somewhat self conscious about the suit.

"I am sure you will look great." I said, "Besides you will sitting next to me and in comparison to me you will look like a Victoria's Secret model."

"Thanks Bill. Its just that..." She paused. "Wait. What? Are you saying I don't normally look as good as a Victoria's Secret model?"

And at that point I shut up.

She looked great.

I sneaked a few pictures of her.

She won't let me post any.

Is it weird that I want my screen saver to be one of those pictures?

Stranger Celebrity

There was the time we left the Hatboro parade in the late 70's. My mom parked the car in the lot behind the retirement home. We couldn't leave because someone blocked us in. We waited for what seemed like hours. Finally the fat lady and the skinny man showed up and moved their car. We were so happy that we created a song at that very moment called "The Fat Lady and the Skinny Man." Not all of my family was there but the story has been told so many times that everyone thinks they were. The fat lady and the skinny man have provided my family with 30 years of a funny memory. Perfect strangers who will never know their celebrity status with my bothers and sisters.

There was the guy in Cape May back in the late 80's who bought my friends beer. My buddy Jeff , underage at the time, gave him money to get a case of Busch. While Jeff and a couple of other friends waited outside the liquor store they noticed that the guy's car had extra antennas and other official equipment in it. When the guy returned with the case of beer Jeff asked if he was a cop. The guy nodded. Jeff asked if he was going to be arrested. The guy said no. The guy placed the beer on the ground and walked away. I was not there but I have heard that story so many times, that sometimes, I believe I was. A perfect stranger who will never know what type of legend status he holds amongst a group of friends. Someone we don't know provides us with entertainment when the story is retold every time we get together.

There was that guy at Mallory Square during the Sunset Celebration in Key West in 2002. He held up a sign that read "Dirty Jokes 50 cents". A brilliant way to panhandle. I gave the guy a dollar and he told Lauren and I two dirty jokes. I gave him another dollar and I asked him to pose with my new wife of only a couple of days. Lauren sat on his lap, he made a dirty gesture and I snapped a picture. Lauren and I talk about the "Dirty Joke Man" all the time. A perfect stranger who will never know that he brings a smile to our faces a few times a year when Lauren and I talk about our honeymoon. He is a small celebrity in our lives and he does not know it.

When we were down the shore last week we stayed in a hotel/condo conversion that had a small pool. The kids and I went into the pool everyday in the late afternoon. We didn't really swim but just relaxed and floated. I made sure that Maxfield, Wyatt and Jackson all had their float-able tubes and what not and I would walk the pool making sure that they each were okay. Everyday we shared the small pool with other people from other units and I had to remind Max and Wyatt to keep the volume down.

One evening in the middle of the week Lauren joined us in the pool. I walked and waded in the pool next to my boys, just like I had the past few days, and Lauren swam and dove under Max and Wyatt, tickling their toes as she passed. The boys were having a blast with their mom. The only other people in the pool were three teenage girls who were chatting against the wall about 8 feet from us so I did not feel like I had to quiet the kids.

I started to feel a little jealous that I was not the one that was causing Max and Wyatt their giggles and laughter. I asked Lauren to keep an eye on Jackson and I swam to the far end of the pool. I called out to Max and Wyatt and said I was going to get them. They both turned towards me as I went under the water and pushed off the wall as hard as I could at them. The force of the wall kick caused my swim suit to slip down to my knees as I swam under Max and Wyatt. I quickly fixed them as I came up for air hoping that nobody saw.

"Daddy!" Max yelled from the other side of the pool. "I just saw your heinie crack. And it wasn't just a little bit, I saw the whole thing and it was really big."

I blushed. Lauren laughed. The three teenage girls busted out laughing. One girl was trying to stifle her laugh while the other girl could not contain herself. They laughed for a good ten minutes.

I am a perfect stranger to those girls and I know that in the future, if they are still friends, they will share a laugh over the guy in the pool with the really big butt crack.

Vacation, Past and Present

Last week we took our first real family vacation. All previous family vacations have either been day trips or treks from Orlando to Philly to visit family.

We went to Wildwood Crest NJ, which is the same shore town I used to go to when I was a kid for two to three weeks every summer. We stayed in a hotel/condo conversion two blocks from my dad's uncle's house, which was the house I stayed in when I was a kid. I couldn't help but point out landmarks and memories to Lauren and the kids.

"Look, there is Sunset Lake where we would go fishing and crabbing every year."

"Do you see that Aqua colored water tower? That was what I would look for to let me know I was close to the uncle's house."

"We used to pool hop there and there and there. And that is the place I lost my big toe nail in 82. It was either John or Pat that opened the door right across my bare foot and it tore the nail right off."

Overall we had a good time and I know that Maxfield and Wyatt had a blast.


At one point during the week Lauren questioned my selection of a certain breakfast item. The item in question was Entenmann's chocolate covered donuts. I bought like 3 boxes of them. There is something about the ocean side salt air that makes me crave chocolate donuts. That and the fact that I remembered that we always had donuts around when we were kids at the shore. Entenmann's Donuts and Cheez-Its remind me of the beach.

Lauren joked that maybe I was trying to re-live my childhood. I laughed it off and told her I just wanted the kids to have a good time and remember the shore as a great place.

When we got back home I was looking through the gazillion photos we took and some of them looked very familiar. So familiar that I went into the attic and dug out an old scrapbook.

Maybe Lauren was somewhat right about me trying to re-live my childhood. Or maybe I was just trying to give my kids a taste of the gift of the childhood I had.

Nightmare

Last year Lauren I took the kids to the beach for a couple of days. The boys had such a blast that for the next several months they talked about going to the the beach with their friend Stelly and how much fun they had in New Jersey.


When ever Wyatt would have a nightmare or be scared to go to bed for whatever reason I always sat with him and we would talk about the great time down the shore. I would suggest that he dream about digging in the sand, standing in the ocean, or going on rides at the boardwalk. Wyatt would smile, and remember the time fondly and close his eyes and drift off to sleep with happy thoughts.

This year Lauren and I took the kids to the beach for a full week. I am not saying that Wyatt is not having a good time but he is now afraid of the ocean, he got a black eye from the bumper cars, and he feels the same way about log flume rides as his father does.



Now when I try to calm him down at night with stories about the beach I am sure he will hear the screams of his dad wailing like a little girl. I need to come up with new "happy thoughts".




GoodNites is still running their Special Bedtime Moments contest. If you enter the contest you have a chance to win the grand prize which is a bedroom makeover or something.

Contest Rules: Go to Special Bedtime Moments and share a special bedtime moment shared by you and your family (can be a story, tip for getting kids to sleep or rundown of your nighttime routine).

Disclaimer: I have partnered with GoodNites for this series of posts; I am being compensated for writing about my family's bedtime routine and for promoting this contest, not for endorsing a product.

Raging at the Beach

I am on vacation this week. My choice of beach reading is Rage Against the Meshugenah, by another blogger Dan Evans. So far I am enjoying it. The vacation and the book.

Big Smile

On Demand

My kids watch a television show or two in the morning, one around dinner time and, most nights, a show before bed time. These three times are when I need a little time for myself either to get stuff done or to just unwind. They watch in the morning because we are shaking out the cobwebs, getting ready for the day, making breakfast, SSS, feeding Jackson etc. The kids will sometimes watch a show while Lauren is making dinner. And I let them watch a show just before bed so I can take some time for myself to catch up on the news, have a cocktail or just surf on the computer. So, yes, essentially I let the TV babysit my kids for 22 minutes at night so I can have some "me" time. Selfish, I know.


When I click the On Demand button on my Verizon Fios remote control, I am usually doing it so my kids can watch an episode of Word Girl, Super Why or some other type of kids show.

When I hit the On Demand button on my Verizon Fios remote a few menus pop up with the categories of various shows or movies. I scroll down to the "Kids" tab, I press enter and then I search for shows. I find the show my kids want to watch and it takes 20 seconds to load into the cable box. The whole process take a minute to a minute and a half.

When I press the On Demand button, my kids are usually in the room, eyes fixed on the television, anxiously waiting to see Captain Huggy Face defeat Lady Redundant Woman. While I am trying to get to their program they are watching the commercials that automatically pop up on the upper part of the screen. The commercials are for the latest movies that Verizon Fios On Demand is pushing, such as Friday the 13th and Bloody Valentine. The previews show screaming people being chased by masked men carrying large sharp objects.

I know that that MPAA has approved that these previews are suitable for all audiences but, really, does FIOS need to run them while I am on the "Kids" menu? There has to be a better way.


The reason I am complaining is that these On Demand previews are giving my kids nightmares. One night Max woke up and told me about a dream he had with a guy getting a fork stuck in his eye. The next morning, when I asked him about the dream he told me he saw it on a commercial. I have not been able to figure out what commercial but I have to assume it was for a movie like Saw or The Ring. I am most positive that he saw this commercial while we were On Demanding.

Now being woken up at 2:00 in the morning is seriously cutting into my "me" time.

Dear Fisher-Price

Seriously, please consider making toy kid sized lawn mowers that actually cut grass. I would be able to get my lawn done in one-third the time. Well, maybe more like half the time.

Well, actually it would probably take twice as long with all the trips to the ER. So, never mind.

Volunteer

When Maxfield broke his femur Lauren and I drove him to the local ER. They x-rayed his leg and confirmed the fracture but were unable to treat him due to their lack of a Pediatric Orthopedic Specialist. They sent us to Children's Hospital of Philadelphia, CHOP for short.

CHOP had to do their own evaluation and run their own tests on Max's leg. The pushing and prodding and twisting of his leg to get the x-rays was extremely painful for Max. Now he had to go through it twice. While being pushed and prodded in CHOP's triage area Maxfield started screaming at the top of his lung's "This is the worst hospital I have ever been to." Which was very funny because, well, you know, he has only been to two.

Someone must have heard him screaming (every body on the floor heard him) and they sent in a specialist. This specialist entered the room, evaluated the situation, and quickly began working on calming Max down. She talked directly to Max and started teaching him breathing techniques to help ease the pain.

"Take deep breath, hold it for a couple of seconds and then push all the pain away when you exhale. Blow the pain away." She said over and over again demonstrating with long audible exhales. She made sure that Lauren and I were watching her so we could help Max manage his pain when she had to leave. This specialist was not a doctor or a nurse, nor do I think this person had any kind of medical degree. She was a volunteer. She was incredible.

Later that night when Max would wake up every five minutes, with severe muscle spasms and intense amounts of pain, I would start coaching him to blow the pain away. The spasms would last for a couple of minutes and Max would, between tears and sobs, huff and puff his way through them. I would end the final moments of the spasm by whispering in his ear, "Push the pain out with your breath. Whoooooooow. Push the pain out with your breath. Whoooooooow. Push the pain out with your breath. Whoooooooow." Max would drift off to sleep for another five minutes before another spasm would hit and we would start all over.

For the two weeks following our hospital stay, at least once a night, I would have to coach Max to blow out his pain. I know we were sent to CHOP to make sure that Max would see a Pediatric Orthopedic, but I am glad we were sent to CHOP so Max and I could see the volunteer.

The cast came off at the end of June and Max is doing really well. The doctor said he is healing exactly as he should be but he won't be back to normal for another 6 or so months. The muscles surrounding his thigh are still somewhat atrophied but are slowly returning to normal. As a result of the fracture Max's right leg is a centimeter or two shorter than his left leg. This causes a very awkward gate and limp when he walks.

A few nights ago I was watching Max play with some kids at the park. The kids were running in a pack from one end of the field to another, using soccer nets as their start and finish lines. Max could not keep up the pace. He was always about 15 yards behind the group. At one point the group stopped at a soccer net and Max kept running. He ran right past them. The other kids started sprinting to catch up to Max. Just as they were on his heels, Max's leg gave out and he went sprawling into the grass. The other kids kept running. Max lay still for a few moments but he then slowly stood up, brushed himself off and hobbled to the other soccer goal.

I watched it all from a distance and my heart was breaking for Maxfield. I found myself welling up and whispering under my breath to myself, "Push the pain out with your breath."

Whooooooow.

Here is a great link for parents. Save it in your favorites. It has tips and information about dealing with trauma After the Injury.

Toothpaste

One of the best pieces of parenting advice I ever received was from an old friend. I don't think I even had kids at the time and he was not offering advice he was just telling me a story.

His kid was maybe 3 or 4 at the time and had his first dentist appointment. The dentist discovered several cavities and needed to drill and fill many teeth. My friend was shocked at the cost of the bill, which was like $2500.00, for teeth that were only going to fall out in a few years. What was happening was my friend could only get his kid to sleep at night if the kid had a sippy cup of warm milk at bed time. The child would fall asleep with the sippy cup.

Apparently milk, which is supposed to be good for teeth and bones, will rot teeth if it sits in the mouth overnight, night after night.

I remember this story and the cost for the dentist every time I put my kids to bed. Part of our bed time routine is brush their teeth every night and the only thing they can drink after brushing is a few sips of water.

Also, did you know someone from West Virginia invented toothpaste? Otherwise they would have called it Teethpaste.

Feel free to use this joke whenever you want. I usually say the Kensington section of Philly instead of West Virginia.

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GoodNites is still running their Special Bedtime Moments contest. If you enter the contest you have a chance to win GoodNites Bedtime Kit which includes a $100 gift certificate to Pajamagram.com, a $50 gift certificate to Borders as well as a blanket, journal, and tote bag from GoodNites. See image of prize on this post.

Contest Rules: Go to Special Bedtime Moments and share a special bedtime moment shared by you and your family (can be a story, tip for getting kids to sleep or rundown of your nighttime routine). You can enter again if you would like. Make sure you leave a comment here that you have entered the contest for a chance to win the tote gift bag.

The winner I randomly picked from this post is BKP. BKP Please email me so I can get your address.

Disclaimer: I have partnered with GoodNites for this series of posts; I am being compensated for writing about my family's bedtime routine and for promoting this contest, not for endorsing a product.

Container

Let's say one day you bring your lunch, which is either potato salad or pasta salad or some kind of a rice and bean dish, to work in a nice reusable plastic container. Then say you eat your lunch but you never rinse out the container because you are just going to wash it when you get home. But only you forget and leave it in your car.

For two weeks.

In July.

When you find the container, you notice that there is something growing in it that does not resemble rice or potato or pasta. Do you just throw the container out? Or do you clean it and reuse it? What do you clean it with?

Apologies

We attended two parties this weekend; a housewarming party on Saturday evening and a 5-year-old birthday party on Sunday afternoon. At both parties Lauren and I did not know a majority of the people.

I am happy to report that Lauren only had to apologize for me twice.

We were at the housewarming party for only about 30 minutes when Lauren entered the room in which I sat chatting with an older couple. We were all just finishing a laugh as Lauren entered. She quickly assessed the laughter in the room as a somewhat nervous laughter from the older couple and I of course had some stupid look on my face.

"Oh and this is my wife." I said as I tired to waive Lauren over to introduce her to the older couple.

Lauren nodded a hello and said, "I just want to apologize for anything that my husband may have said or will possibly say tonight."


The next day we attended the birthday party which was held at a local farm/petting zoo. There were like 20 kids and their parents at the party. With so many animals to feed, pet, ride and antagonize I did not get too much of a chance to meet the other parents. Lauren did pre-apologize to one couple that we had a chance to chat with.

All of the kids gathered around a very large table in the barn for cake. The hosts passed out party hats and Blow-outs . There was a bit of commotion as parents helped their kids with the hats and party favors. I was at one end of the barn and Lauren was at the other end. A little boy at my end of the barn yelled, "Wait, Mommy. Daddy needs a blow."

And just as there was a slight pause in the noise and commotion, I said, (which I directed to my friend C who standing next to me and I thought I said it kind of under my breath, but it came out actually louder, barns have a weird way of carrying sounds) "What daddy doesn't need one?"
The awkward laughter traveled up to the other side of the barn. I caught Lauren's eyes and she smiled one of those "Lord help me" smiles.

No Name Brand Cans of Soup Were Harmed

Well it took me a while from the time I got my first letter from Campbell's, but I finally got the new look for Poop and Boogies. What do you think?

I want to thank my friend Caren from HandleWithCaren who did all the photo design work. I met Caren when I was a freshman and she was a senior in high school. I think we shared an art class together. I say "shared" because I was in Drawing I and she was in Drawing III, or Expert Level Drawing or something like that, we had the same teacher but were on different levels. She was/is awesome, I kind of sucked. I always looked up to her as an artist. Even after she graduated and went on to art college she would check in on me to see how my artwork was progressing. She would look at my work, compliment it and make me feel better. She kept me interested in art and always made me feel like I had worth as an artist. She was being nice.

I stopped pursuing a career in art after my first art history class. Art History Class was the most physically challenging class I have ever taken in my entire life. The physical challenge? Staying awake. Anyone who can stay awake enough in Art History to pass the class truly loves art. I applaud those people. Caren is one of those people. She went on to be a freelance artist and advertising person in New York. Every now and then I will talk to Caren and ask her what she is working on. She would tell me, and being nice she would ask me how I felt about different pitches and what not. Again she makes me feel like I have worth as an artist. I know now, that she takes any idea I may throw her way and does the exact opposite. That is why she is a successful advertiser.

Thanks to Jo-Lynne at DCR Design for doing all the layout code work. She was great to work with. She was very patient handling my technical requests that usually involved the words "thingamabob", "Whoziwhatsits" and "you know that thing, that code, HTMMLL button link thingy."

There a couple of buttons on the side bar somewhere. One button is the "about me" page. One of those buttons "MMM Good" will take you to a page of links to various blogs I read or other websites I like to visit. Not every blog or site has been added yet (I still have some work I need to do) I plan to change those links on a regular basis or as my tastes in websites change.

Thanks for stopping by and I hope you like the new look.

Ride

I pulled into my driveway from "my" parking space on the street so I could back out and turn around. As I was backing out, a car, I did not recognize, came down the street and parked in "my" space against the curb. I waited a moment to make sure they were not going to inch ahead past my driveway and park in front of the neighbors house. They did not.

I kept my eye on the car as I pulled out. I was trying to see if I recognized the driver but it must have appeared as though I was staring. The other car in "my" space was a shiny blue. It looked brand new. I pulled along the side of the blue vehicle and the driver lowered his window. It was my ex-neighbor. I don't know if ex-neighbor is the right word for it. We didn't break-up or anything. I would say old neighbor but he is not really old. He is my age. When I moved into my house he was in between jobs and lived with his parents, who are my neighbors. He then found a job a few hours away and moved out. So he is my ex-neighbor, or maybe former neighbor works.
Yes, former neighbor.

Anyway, my former neighbor lowered his window and said hello. I was still eyeballing his car because it was all bright and shiny and new and really nice. We exchanged quick pleasantries and I was not really paying attention because I was thinking to myself that he must be doing pretty well with his new gig with the shiny new car and all. He sensed that I was staring and asked if it was okay that he parked in "my" space. I laughed it off and said no-problem. I started to explain that I was staring (you know because I felt weird for staring) because I am familiar with most of the cars that park on the street and I was trying to figure whose car it was. Just then a woman exited from the passenger side of the shiny blue car.

My former neighbor introduced me to the woman.

"Bill," he said, "this is my girlfriend..." He said her name but I don't remember what it was. I was still focused on the car.

I said a quick hello to the woman and then I nodded towards his car, which his girlfriend was standing against, and I asked, "So is that a new ride?"

There was an awkward silence as both my former neighbor and his girlfriend were trying to figure out if I was talking about her.

Sorry

Dear Lady in the Green Shirt and Khaki Pants,

I am sorry. I really am. You see flying on plane, let alone one of the small buses with wings, makes me very nervous and a little skittish. When I ran into you I had just landed at Cincinnati Airport terminal B and was somewhat shaken up by the slightly rough landing.

I appreciate that you were understanding and that you answered my question honestly when I asked "Where are the urinals?"

You smiled as you looked up from the sink as you fixed your pants and said, "You are in the ladie's room. The urinals are in the men's room."

Again, I am sorry.


William

Frankie Pickle

I have been to my fair amount of art shows. I figure I have paid my dues and there is no need for me to ever go to another one. When Lauren asked me, Saturday morning, if I wanted to go to the Tinicum Art Festival that afternoon, I don't know what possessed me to say yes. She even asked with the stipulation that I don't rush her through the displays, vendors and artist's showcases, like I usually do, and I still said yes.

I read on the website that there would be entertainment for the kids as well as some local author/illustrators who would be signing books. I was interested in meeting two of them; Rich Egielski, a Caldecott Medal recipient, and the other, Eric Wight, an accomplished comic book artist.

The festival was fun. The kids enjoyed meeting a monkey, the live music, the food and the swings. I kept telling them we had a swing set at home and there was no reason for us to travel the 45 minutes just so they could swing on the swings but that did not matter to them. I also tried the same kind of argument with Lauren telling her we have artwork at home and there was no reason to travel 45 minutes to look at other artwork, but she reminded me that I was not to rush her.

Eventually we made our way to the author's booth and I was pleasantly surprised that both the Caldecott winner and Eric Wight occupied the booth at the same time. Eric was signing his new book Frankie Pickle and the Closet of Doom. I introduced myself and made small talk with Eric and I tried to get Maxfield and Wyatt engaged in the conversation. I threw a question at Max which I knew he knew the answer.

"Illustrator." Max said.

Both Eric and the Caldecott winner raised their eyebrows as though they were impressed with a 5-year-old knowing the word "illustrator". I then asked Max to tell the authors his full name which he responded "Maxfield". I told them his named was inspired by Maxfield Parrish. Eric smiled and said he thought that was pretty cool.

Rich, the Caldecott winner, chuckled and said "That's great." He pointed to Wyatt and asked "What the little guy's name? N.C. ?"

I smiled and said " As a matter of fact his name is Wyatt. Inspired by N.C. Wyeth."

Both author/illustrators thought my kid's names were cool. Where else besides an art festival would other people actually get the inspiration behind Maxfield's and Wyatt's name?

I made small talk with Eric about his book and I decided to buy it. He was funny and a decent guy. I was feeling all artsy, hip and cool hanging out with and talking to writers and I mentioned to Eric Wight that I had a blog and that maybe I would review Frankie Pickle and the Closet of Doom.

"Oh that would be great." He said. " I will give you my business card and maybe we can set up an interview."

I took the business card and then I...then I ...I got cold feet. In my head I started to panic. I got really nervous. I was thinking Interview? What kind of questions would I ask? I would totally sound like Chris Farley on SNL. I am so not cool and hip. A published author was asking me to interview him? What the? He must think I am with Huffington or something. Wait until he finds out my blog is called Poop and Boogies.

I froze. I said nothing. I thanked him for his time. I mumbled something about emailing him. I shook his hand and I left.

I caught up with Lauren and told her about the exchange and me suddenly getting all nervous. She laughed and said, " I think you may have another man crush developing."

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My review of Frankie Pickle. I bought the book on Saturday. I have read it to Maxfield three times. He has requested that I read it more. That right there is an excellent review.

Frankie Pickle is a chapter book that switches between comic pages and prose to tell the story. The comic pages are used when Frankie is using his imagination and the prose for when he is in the "real" world. The style of Eric Wight reminds me of a cross between a Calvin and Hobbes comic and the stories of Henry the Explorer, which are my favorite books from when I was a kid.
The characters, artwork and story are perfect for kids ages 4 to 10. I really have fun reading Frankie Pickle so I guess it would be perfect for a parent too.


So if I do get a chance to interview him what questions should I ask?

Nothing Itches

Lauren and I were married Seven years ago today. I am still amazed that someone as beautiful as this...

...married me.

I am also amazed at the stretching capabilities of spandex and how the costumes fit the groomsmen.