Thursday, March 12, 2009
Monday, February 09, 2009
Our little thug...
You might not have known this, but our little boy is being raised in Southie, a rough-and-tumble neighborhood in Massachusetts. He is writing a screen play with Ben Affleck, though, and hopes to one day make it as a writer/actor in Hollywood.
Seriously, though, how cute is this little guy. A 55-degree day lent itself to a little walk around the neighborhood and we couldn't have been happier. We're almost out of hibernation.
Seriously, though, how cute is this little guy. A 55-degree day lent itself to a little walk around the neighborhood and we couldn't have been happier. We're almost out of hibernation.
Thursday, February 05, 2009
Friday, December 26, 2008
Christmas airbags have deployed...
Go to your respective corners!
1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6...it's over, Rocky! Christmas is over!
1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6...it's over, Rocky! Christmas is over!
Thursday, December 25, 2008
And so this is Christmas...
Well it’s Christmas and yet another year has gone by, this being possibly my laziest blogging year to date. I’ll spare you my usual we’ve been so busy lately and there’s just not enough time in the world’s, but truth of the matter is that a two-year old is just a tornado wrapped in a hurricane surrounded in a tsunami, and I totally underestimated the transition.
Anyway, the holidays have come and gone with little fanfare. Tenzin is still a tad too young to understand what’s going on, but manages to enjoy a good thrashing of paper; that seems to be universal at any age. He’d open and reopen the same gift over and over again if we would let him. In fact, some of his presents were merely toys that had been worn out months ago, given new life with a bow and some wrapping paper. We like to think of it as economic recycling.
We awoke his morning to cinnamon rolls, bacon and coffee. Rachel had roused herself out of bed at an ungodly hour, per her holiday spirit, while Tenzin and I slept in till all of 9:30. Tenzin was up all night playing with Henry at Gaga and Pa’s house and didn’t get to bed until about 11:00pm, so he was still a tad bit grumpy come morning. Additionally, the little guy has been feeling under the weather. What we first thought to be rotavirus is hopefully just a stomach bug, and it’s really taken a toll on his system. All he wants to do is help (with everything), and no matter how much we wash and scrub we still don’t want to risk the germs. So we usually have to pull him away, drippy nose and all, and he’s usually none too happy. Poor little guy.
Luckily, a hurt tummy is nothing a couple of presents can’t fix, so we opened up some gifts. Like most people, we’ve scaled back this Christmas. Rachel really enjoyed the beef tongue sandwich I made her, while I took comfort in the wool underwear she painstakingly knit. They’re itchy, but we guys are always looking for a reason to scratch down there, so I’m grateful I can now blame my sweaty tuckus.
Tenzin got some dried cow patties (Bear Grylls says they’re excellent fuel for holding a flame) and a box with the word life written inside (we originally gave him that gift two years ago but he hasn’t thanked us yet, so we repackaged). We also took his blanket away from him a couple of times, only to give it back after he begged. He didn’t like that until we told him that our benevolent generosity was also a gift. Then he understood.
But I think the best gift, by far, was Rachel’s giant bow (got the idea from a Lexus commercial). It looked awesome on our truck. Then again, when does a giant bow not make everything better (with the exception of the time when I used it getting out of the shower).
Soon we’ll be heading over to Gaga and Pa’s for Christmas with the grandparents/Rayo’s, then off to bed to get a jump on Rachel’s birthday tomorrow. No big plans for the latter of the two since I have to work most of the day, but I bet that it’s a safe bet that we’ll enjoy some good grub and a couple of drinks (might be able to reuse the giant bow).
We wish there was time (and money) to see some West Coast folk, but it’ll have to wait till March. Uncle Jared and Aunt Erin will be getting married in Phoenix and it looks like an Orange County constituency will be making the trip east. It’ll be great to see them since it’s been so long. Next Christmas, however, we hope to definitely have our feet planted firmly in the sand. It’s not easy rotating back and forth every year, so we might just need to set a date for Christmas in Caribbean. I think we can all agree that the sand and sun needs to be a constant, given the 3 degree morning on Monday and the 55 degree afternoon on Wednesday.
Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!
Anyway, the holidays have come and gone with little fanfare. Tenzin is still a tad too young to understand what’s going on, but manages to enjoy a good thrashing of paper; that seems to be universal at any age. He’d open and reopen the same gift over and over again if we would let him. In fact, some of his presents were merely toys that had been worn out months ago, given new life with a bow and some wrapping paper. We like to think of it as economic recycling.
We awoke his morning to cinnamon rolls, bacon and coffee. Rachel had roused herself out of bed at an ungodly hour, per her holiday spirit, while Tenzin and I slept in till all of 9:30. Tenzin was up all night playing with Henry at Gaga and Pa’s house and didn’t get to bed until about 11:00pm, so he was still a tad bit grumpy come morning. Additionally, the little guy has been feeling under the weather. What we first thought to be rotavirus is hopefully just a stomach bug, and it’s really taken a toll on his system. All he wants to do is help (with everything), and no matter how much we wash and scrub we still don’t want to risk the germs. So we usually have to pull him away, drippy nose and all, and he’s usually none too happy. Poor little guy.
Luckily, a hurt tummy is nothing a couple of presents can’t fix, so we opened up some gifts. Like most people, we’ve scaled back this Christmas. Rachel really enjoyed the beef tongue sandwich I made her, while I took comfort in the wool underwear she painstakingly knit. They’re itchy, but we guys are always looking for a reason to scratch down there, so I’m grateful I can now blame my sweaty tuckus.Tenzin got some dried cow patties (Bear Grylls says they’re excellent fuel for holding a flame) and a box with the word life written inside (we originally gave him that gift two years ago but he hasn’t thanked us yet, so we repackaged). We also took his blanket away from him a couple of times, only to give it back after he begged. He didn’t like that until we told him that our benevolent generosity was also a gift. Then he understood.
But I think the best gift, by far, was Rachel’s giant bow (got the idea from a Lexus commercial). It looked awesome on our truck. Then again, when does a giant bow not make everything better (with the exception of the time when I used it getting out of the shower).Soon we’ll be heading over to Gaga and Pa’s for Christmas with the grandparents/Rayo’s, then off to bed to get a jump on Rachel’s birthday tomorrow. No big plans for the latter of the two since I have to work most of the day, but I bet that it’s a safe bet that we’ll enjoy some good grub and a couple of drinks (might be able to reuse the giant bow).
We wish there was time (and money) to see some West Coast folk, but it’ll have to wait till March. Uncle Jared and Aunt Erin will be getting married in Phoenix and it looks like an Orange County constituency will be making the trip east. It’ll be great to see them since it’s been so long. Next Christmas, however, we hope to definitely have our feet planted firmly in the sand. It’s not easy rotating back and forth every year, so we might just need to set a date for Christmas in Caribbean. I think we can all agree that the sand and sun needs to be a constant, given the 3 degree morning on Monday and the 55 degree afternoon on Wednesday.
Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!
Monday, December 22, 2008
Friday, November 28, 2008
The Battle of the Pacifier...
Our first attempt at weening the little guy from his chupetes isn't going as planned. We took one away and another one miraculously appeared from below the couch. I'm frightened he has them tucked away in anticipation of winter.
Happy Thanksgiving!!!
Happy Thanksgiving!!!
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
A Guide for Global Leadership
ALL I REALLY NEED TO KNOW I LEARNED IN KINDERGARTEN: a guide for Global Leadership.
All I really need to know about how to live and what to do and how to be I learned in kindergarten. Wisdom was not at the top of the graduate school mountain, but there in the sand pile at school.
These are the things I learned:
Share everything.
Play fair.
Don't hit people.
Put things back where you found them.
Clean up your own mess.
Don't take things that aren't yours.
Say you're sorry when you hurt somebody.
Wash your hands before you eat.
Flush.
Warm cookies and cold milk are good for you.
Live a balanced life - learn some and think some and draw and paint and sing and dance and play and work every day some.
Take a nap every afternoon.
When you go out in the world, watch out for traffic, hold hands and stick together.
Be aware of wonder. Remember the little seed in the Styrofoam cup: the roots go down and the plant goes up and nobody really knows how or why, but we are all like that.
Goldfish and hamsters and white mice and even the little seed in the Styrofoam cup - they all die. So do we.
And then remember the Dick-and-Jane books and the first word you learned - the biggest word of all - LOOK.
Everything you need to know is in there somewhere. The Golden Rule and love and basic sanitation. Ecology and politics and equality and sane living.
[Source: "ALL I REALLY NEED TO KNOW I LEARNED IN KINDERGARTEN" by Robert Fulghum. See his web site at http://www.robertfulghum.com/ ]
Monday, October 13, 2008
Update, if you wanna call it that...
[Seeing as Summer is pretty much over I felt I should, at least, post Part 1 of an update - an update I've been sitting on for over two months now. I know, I'm awesome. So much has happened, but I haven't been able to keep up. I owe a lot more update-wise than this, so I'll try to get out Part 2, in addition to a large Thank You for condo-loan to the Sweitzer family, as soon as I can. I mean it. I swear. I promise. Don't look at me that way.]
Late August
There’s something to be said about location and development. As a youth, I had many fond memories of various places: climbing the crab apple trees in our backyard, watching our fathers paint soccer field lines at the local fairgrounds, the Christmas lights at Clifton Mill, playing a night game against friends at Alt Field, painting the driveway (with water) at my Grandmother’s house, the timeout bench at Hilliard East Pool, and last but not least, Myrtle Beach.
The south has been a family tradition for as long as I can remember; whether it be losing my treasured blue and white Nikes at the spry age of four in a Florida hotel or feeling myself grow two inches (outward) in a single meal at the Texan, there’s a sense of home in the pack, the drive and the sandy grit of the southeastern coast.
Not just exclusive to us, the east coast has been a hotspot for the vanilla masses of the Midwest for ages, so much so that even the French Canadians have hopped on board (albeit in much smaller swimsuits).
From Columbus, you’re looking at about a five hour trip to DC, six hours to Virginia Beach, ten hours to Myrtle Beach (sorry Dad, but you could use some foot weights), and twelve hours to Kiawah, Seabrook and Hilton Head. For you Southern Californians reading this, think of it as Vegas, Phoenix, San Jose, and Reno, respectively. It’s not a fun hike, but it’s right in that should-we-fly or should-we-drive range.
For me, half the fun was always the night before. The butterflied anticipation of jellyfish-taunting was enough to make me pre-sharpen a chasing stick the night before, much less the giddiness that stemmed from knowing that I would be taunting girls…get this…in bikinis. What can I say? I was a little Romeo. A little Romeo with a sharpened chasing stick covered in jellyfish.
Needless to say, it’s funny how things change. Little known fact: Did you know that if your car has 15.2 cubic feet of trunk space, 15 out of 15.2 cubic feet of said space will be filled with diggers, dumpers, swimmers, sippy cups, sun lotions, after sun lotions, and pre-sun lotions? Not much room for chasing sticks. Alas. Seriously though, our trunk was ridiculous. Had we been in an accident on the way to South Carolina it would’ve been the result of a lube leak. That car was packed to the gills with lotion, lotion, and more lotion!
Anywhoo, we left the house happy. The child in me still got to take his 6’2” skateboard, two cases of beer and copious amounts of firework repatriation money - so I can’t say that I wasn’t pleased. It was just different packing a car for two thirsty adults, versus packing an itsy bitsy bag for an anxious, stressful set of parents getting ready to flop their way through a TSA gate check. This was our *first* long drive and it was it was a hell of a lot more interesting. While the TSA might restrict you from bringing an entire basement into the cargo hold, a father looks at an automobile as a volume-challenge. I’m used to packing as light as the metal on my body and now I have THIS MUCH ROOM? Game on.
After the tugboats pushed our rent-a-Mazda out of Ohio, I was amazed. We had planned on leaving at 7:00pm(ish) and driving through the night, but somehow --we’re not sure how-- we were on the road by 7:03. Granted, packing took a little bit longer than expected and we forgot to, say, feed our son dinner prior to getting in the car, but we were southern-bound with the Columbus skyline at our backs…and only THREE minutes late! Take that Clark Griswold!
The drive was a wonderful success. Tenzin slept the whole way and Rachel, in her slumber, neglected to see my white knuckle driving. West Virginia’s mountainous turns make you feel like you’re half-blindfolded in the dark, and while we might have arrived two hours ahead of schedule because perks like limited traffic, I think I shaved 14 years off of my life. All in all I was quite proud of myself. I made it 9 of the 11 hours before I felt my eyes sagging. Rachel happily took the wheel and finished the rest of the trip.
We got to the beach, shoeless, at 6:00am. Don’t ask me how, but my Rainbow sandals --the sandals I was married in-- got kicked out at one of the many gas station stops. This would be one of three sets of sandals lost on this trip, but that’s a different story all together. It was just a big bummer to lose your wedding flops.
The problem with making good time and arriving at dawn is, well, our room wouldn’t be ready until 3:00pm - did I mention I’m a scheduling genius? Funny enough, it couldn’t have worked out better. We unstrapped my skateboard from the roof (in case you didn’t know, they’re hotter than car stereos) and walked down to the beach.
Tenzin wasn’t sure what to make of it. As you can see from our previous posts he’s been in the ocean (kind of) and been swimming plenty of times, but this was his first I-can-recognize-what-I’m-doing, big sandbox experience. He took two cautious steps and was feeling his way around, then began laughing and giggling as he scooped up the ground around him. Only 20 seconds, and we had already busted out our first, “We don’t throw sand.” Nothing is better than watching discovery, and following it up with never-do-that-again-isms.
Due to some bribery at the front desk (a promised 6-pack of Bud from the nearby package store), we were able to check-in by 9:00 am. This was the first of many amazing experiences for me. Let me remind you that I haven’t set foot in Myrtle Beach since I was 15-years old. The last “James” to visit MB was a James that lied about his age, snuck out of windows and made out in sand dunes with poorly supervised tourists' daughters. Fast forward to now, where I bought beer (legally) as a bribe from the same store where we had tried (to no avail) to bribe people to buy us beer! Like I said, our families have been vacationing here for a while, but I don’t think I truly grasped how much I would remember some of this. It was all very surreal.
Late August
There’s something to be said about location and development. As a youth, I had many fond memories of various places: climbing the crab apple trees in our backyard, watching our fathers paint soccer field lines at the local fairgrounds, the Christmas lights at Clifton Mill, playing a night game against friends at Alt Field, painting the driveway (with water) at my Grandmother’s house, the timeout bench at Hilliard East Pool, and last but not least, Myrtle Beach.
The south has been a family tradition for as long as I can remember; whether it be losing my treasured blue and white Nikes at the spry age of four in a Florida hotel or feeling myself grow two inches (outward) in a single meal at the Texan, there’s a sense of home in the pack, the drive and the sandy grit of the southeastern coast.
Not just exclusive to us, the east coast has been a hotspot for the vanilla masses of the Midwest for ages, so much so that even the French Canadians have hopped on board (albeit in much smaller swimsuits).
From Columbus, you’re looking at about a five hour trip to DC, six hours to Virginia Beach, ten hours to Myrtle Beach (sorry Dad, but you could use some foot weights), and twelve hours to Kiawah, Seabrook and Hilton Head. For you Southern Californians reading this, think of it as Vegas, Phoenix, San Jose, and Reno, respectively. It’s not a fun hike, but it’s right in that should-we-fly or should-we-drive range.
For me, half the fun was always the night before. The butterflied anticipation of jellyfish-taunting was enough to make me pre-sharpen a chasing stick the night before, much less the giddiness that stemmed from knowing that I would be taunting girls…get this…in bikinis. What can I say? I was a little Romeo. A little Romeo with a sharpened chasing stick covered in jellyfish.
Needless to say, it’s funny how things change. Little known fact: Did you know that if your car has 15.2 cubic feet of trunk space, 15 out of 15.2 cubic feet of said space will be filled with diggers, dumpers, swimmers, sippy cups, sun lotions, after sun lotions, and pre-sun lotions? Not much room for chasing sticks. Alas. Seriously though, our trunk was ridiculous. Had we been in an accident on the way to South Carolina it would’ve been the result of a lube leak. That car was packed to the gills with lotion, lotion, and more lotion!
Anywhoo, we left the house happy. The child in me still got to take his 6’2” skateboard, two cases of beer and copious amounts of firework repatriation money - so I can’t say that I wasn’t pleased. It was just different packing a car for two thirsty adults, versus packing an itsy bitsy bag for an anxious, stressful set of parents getting ready to flop their way through a TSA gate check. This was our *first* long drive and it was it was a hell of a lot more interesting. While the TSA might restrict you from bringing an entire basement into the cargo hold, a father looks at an automobile as a volume-challenge. I’m used to packing as light as the metal on my body and now I have THIS MUCH ROOM? Game on.
After the tugboats pushed our rent-a-Mazda out of Ohio, I was amazed. We had planned on leaving at 7:00pm(ish) and driving through the night, but somehow --we’re not sure how-- we were on the road by 7:03. Granted, packing took a little bit longer than expected and we forgot to, say, feed our son dinner prior to getting in the car, but we were southern-bound with the Columbus skyline at our backs…and only THREE minutes late! Take that Clark Griswold!
The drive was a wonderful success. Tenzin slept the whole way and Rachel, in her slumber, neglected to see my white knuckle driving. West Virginia’s mountainous turns make you feel like you’re half-blindfolded in the dark, and while we might have arrived two hours ahead of schedule because perks like limited traffic, I think I shaved 14 years off of my life. All in all I was quite proud of myself. I made it 9 of the 11 hours before I felt my eyes sagging. Rachel happily took the wheel and finished the rest of the trip.
We got to the beach, shoeless, at 6:00am. Don’t ask me how, but my Rainbow sandals --the sandals I was married in-- got kicked out at one of the many gas station stops. This would be one of three sets of sandals lost on this trip, but that’s a different story all together. It was just a big bummer to lose your wedding flops.
The problem with making good time and arriving at dawn is, well, our room wouldn’t be ready until 3:00pm - did I mention I’m a scheduling genius? Funny enough, it couldn’t have worked out better. We unstrapped my skateboard from the roof (in case you didn’t know, they’re hotter than car stereos) and walked down to the beach.Tenzin wasn’t sure what to make of it. As you can see from our previous posts he’s been in the ocean (kind of) and been swimming plenty of times, but this was his first I-can-recognize-what-I’m-doing, big sandbox experience. He took two cautious steps and was feeling his way around, then began laughing and giggling as he scooped up the ground around him. Only 20 seconds, and we had already busted out our first, “We don’t throw sand.” Nothing is better than watching discovery, and following it up with never-do-that-again-isms. Due to some bribery at the front desk (a promised 6-pack of Bud from the nearby package store), we were able to check-in by 9:00 am. This was the first of many amazing experiences for me. Let me remind you that I haven’t set foot in Myrtle Beach since I was 15-years old. The last “James” to visit MB was a James that lied about his age, snuck out of windows and made out in sand dunes with poorly supervised tourists' daughters. Fast forward to now, where I bought beer (legally) as a bribe from the same store where we had tried (to no avail) to bribe people to buy us beer! Like I said, our families have been vacationing here for a while, but I don’t think I truly grasped how much I would remember some of this. It was all very surreal.
This time around we were going with our friends, the Bilek’s. Times are tough and money is tight, so as much as we had hoped to make it down with family (who were down there a week prior), we asked the Bilek’s if they’d split cost and start a new tradition. They happily jumped on board and met us down there for a week of fun in the sun.
We settled in and had a really great time. It was nice because of everybody was able to go at their own pace; some days we wanted to relax on the beach, others we just wanted to relax with a nap. There wasn't any pressure to do anything,and it felt great.
I was quite proud of our beach set-up. I had raided the Pointe Tavern before we left and comandeered two massive Miller light umbrellas, in addition to a massive sun tent compliments of GaGa and Pa. It was a royal pain in the ass to set-up and tear down, but it was nice to have all the ammenities to keep us on the sand as long as possible. We were on a mission to stay ocean-side for 8 hours a day and I think we did just that.
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