Anniversary Sunday

A leisurely anniversary Sunday. Kinda. We're still not sure if Liam pulled his wagon downstairs or sat inside it and lowered himself down step by step. I want to believe the former. Oh, and the not so leisurely drive back to the restaurant we had dinner in last night from the diner we had breakfast in this morning to see if they had Bern's American Express. And they did.


A little walk on the beach.

Some lemonade at the farmer's market. After his first long sip he says, "Mmm, daddy, it's nice and smooth." That's right, son. Just like that 18 year old Glenfiddich we were drinking last night. WTF? Where do they come up with this stuff? And... screaming from upstairs. Now what? Ah. Somebody broke somebody else's imaginary robot. I hate it when that happens. Any point to this particular post, you ask? None whatsoever, except that if I keep typing then maybe I can delay my cooking lesson. Some people find cooking leisurely, others do not. Hmm, how about Middle Aged Woman's meme or blogart. Whatever the difference is.

I am: all man, baby. Ahahahahaha!
I think: but I try not to.
I know: an exceptional amount of useless information.
I have: a new Salman Rushdie book, The Enchantress of Florence.
I wish: my job could be eliminated so I could take a year off to spend with my kids. Hey! Wait a minute...
I hate: not being able to find the remote.
I miss: Buffy, Angel, Enterprise, Journey Man and every other show I've loved that's been cancelled.
I fear: more things than I did before I had children.
I hear: the cooling fan on my computer, the US/China basketball game, my wife talking to herself as she cooks, the boys breaking things upstairs.
I smell: suntan lotion.
I crave: attention.
I search: for salvation. No. Enlightenment? Not really. The fridge for something to eat.
I wonder: how long before Connor is taller than his mother.
I regret: je ne regrette rien.
I love: oh do I ever
I ache: in my neck because even though I am pretty relaxed about losing my job, apparently I am somewhat stressed on the inside.
I am not: 6'2 like I tell everyone who asks. I'm a smidgen under. Not a teensy bit, but a smidgen.
I believe: we are not alone.
I dance: naked under the light of the full moon. (not really)
I sing: even though I shouldn't.
I cry: yes.
I fight: myself.
I win: when my wife lets me.
I lose: but I don't stop fighting.
I never: but I always wished I had.
I always: lift my feet when I drive over railway tracks. Thanks, Mom.
I confuse: easily and often.
I listen: to my wife even though I don't always hear her. Or is that the other way around?
I can usually be found: if I want to be found.
I am scared: of you finding out what I'm scared of and using it against me. I know you, you'll do it.
I need: repeated kicks in the ass.
I am happy about: being able to be happy.
I imagine: oh yes I do.

And I'll leave you with this:

It's blurry, but that's because it was taken in a hurry and while I was laughing. This is my littlest monkey balanced on top of a railing that divides our dining room from our living room. We're in the middle of potty training and in this picture he is watching his pee roll down his legs and drip off the railing onto the floor.

Sigh.

Sunday: For Jenboglass

I wasn't going to post anything today. Lack of inspiration... no, that's bullshit, I'm just lazy. It's Sunday and I didn't feel like it. Then I though, ok, I'll just post a picture of the garden I took yesterday, maybe leave some pithy comment...

Buuuuuut I'm fresh outta pith. But then, I happened to notice I had a new comment! Ah, comments. I'm a crack whore for comments and thanks to jenboglass I so SCORED today. Pre-Jen's comment I was sliding into some serious failing as a father, lazy-assed self-loathing depression. But then I was inspired. Then I had an iced tea. Then I felt GREAT! Maybe my blood sugar was low. Whatever. Then I looked around the house and noticed the piles of laundry and dirty dishes that I'd been successfully ignoring until that point. Shit. So I did those. Then I folded some laundry. Then I made some beds. Then I helped cover the British Expeditionary Force's retreat from Dunkirk in my trusty Spitfire. What? The kids needed attention too. They wanted me to play on the Wii.

So now it's 9:17pm... is Utah an hour ahead of me? I told Jen I'd dedicate my next blog to her but now what? I threw down a little dinner talk with my 3 year old, but that's not really dedication material. Hmm.... um, ah... look at my wife's pretty flowers!

Hydrangea: Dude, don't be using us to cover up you having nothing to write about.

Me: Wha...

Ville de Lyon: Buddy, you're totally ripping BHJ.

Me: No I'm not! I've done this before... like here, and... here!

Hydrangea: Well, that's true. He did.

Me: Ya. And what about that one with Optimus Prime? That was funny. What did I do with that?

Hydrangea: Um, I think you deleted it with the old blog.

Me: Dammit!

Ville de Lyon: Sounds all well and good, but I got one word for you, plag---

Me: Blah blah blah! Enough of you, pompous French bastard. Who else can we talk too? How about Dahlia?

Me: Dahlia, lookin fine today.

Dahlia: Goddamned right I am, I'm a wonder of nature. Now what are you doing about the ants?

Me: Ants?

Dahlia: ANTS! I'm covered in freakin ants! WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO ABOUT THE ANTS???

Me: Um, ants?

Ants: We're here for the aphids.

Me: There you go, they're there for the aphids. Aphids are bad. It's a good thing.

Aphids: Hey!

Dahlia: I don't give a flyin' fu-

Me: Ok... how about my niece Michelle?

Michelle: Hey Uncle Dumbass.

Me: Ah, I think we can just go with Uncle Chad.

Michelle: Whatev's. What's with the look today? Early 90's Grunge?

Me: Listen Sunshine, you weren't even born then so what do you know?

Michelle: I know you haven't shaved and you smell like a goat.
Me: Speaking of goats? What's with the tongue?
Michelle: (big sigh) Steenky Bee's a good name for a blog, it's pretty too. Your page is boring.
Me: Sigh. I know. And her page is nice. Maybe one day I'll figure out the magic behind banners.
Michelle: Probably not, you're not that bright. Anyway, I have to go to bed. I'm only 7, remember.
Me: You are my imagination and We are not tired yet.
Michelle: We are tired and Utah is an hour ahead of us so it's like almost 11pm there now. She's not going to see your Sunday blog until Monday. Just FINISH!
Me: Fine.

I Live In The Clouds

via Wolves At Night

Sunday Morning Cannibalism

It still amazes me how fast you can switch from dead sleep to wide awake and ready to face anything the minute one of your children cries out in their sleep. Granted, some nights I'm stumbling down the hall like a zombie with a belly full of brains, but most times, like last night, instantly awake and ready to combat a night mare, leaking diaper or the forces of evil. Fire! Flood! Famine! Well, fire and flood anyway. Famine? That's a little tougher, but my little monkey's need to eat. We crash land in some remote area and there's no food? Watch your ass, cabron, cause I'll hack it off and eat in a heartbeat if I have to. Your heartbeat. And I'll eat your heart too if need be. I'm just sayin'...

Have a nice Sunday.

Sunday and Inevitability

I love it when I'm trying to upload photos to Blogger and it takes so long I can't even remember what the fuck I was going to blog about in the first place. And what the hell is with the first picture? It looks great on my computer but like ass here? Whatever, it took so long to upload I'm not going to delete it now.



And speaking of frustration... This is what yesterday started out like. It was a sunny pink and blue flowery kinda morning. Or a Siberian something or other (not Forget Me Nots so shut up with that) and Virginia something something should-have-kept-those-tags kinda morning. Full of promise and hope.



Full of cute children doing cute things. Cute children who were apparently possessed by aliens this week because they were so well behaved and nice their parents did not know what to do with them. Parents who just decided to go with it and enjoy because inevitably it would end.



So then it was off for a pleasant lunch. Mmm, ginger sauce. What would I not eat with a little ginger sauce? Road kill? Nope, I'd eat that too. Plum sauce, meh.



Then inevitability caught up with us and it all went to hell. If you happened to be on Main Street in Vancouver yesterday and were passed by a light blue Caravan full of screaming banshees, we apologize. You probably thought the Hell Mouth had just opened, and you were right. Luckily for you though it was inside a mini-van heading south as fast as the law would permit... and then some. I'd like to say all was well once we reached home, but it wasn't. Some solitary confinement was dealt out, a hand full of Advil was taken and screaming carried on until it just got boring.

Ah, Sunday.

New Soul - Yael Naim

It's Sunday and it's not raining like it was supposed to be, so here's a little love.