9/30/12
Miles is a year and 8 days old. He finally cut his first tooth today at about 4. I know this because we were checking it out pretty closely before his nap, and when he woke up, there it was - a little white dentine miracle poking out of his gums. I know he needs these teeth and everything, but I had kind of gotten used to the idea that Miles would never have teeth, and just be cute and gummy for the rest of his life. Oh well, life had other plans for this boy. Maybe now he'll be able to actually chew his food rather than mashgagging it all the time.
Sunday, September 30, 2012
Year of writing 275. Birthday Dinner.
9/29/12
I got to celebrate my birthday in style today by going to a swanky restaurant called "Bouchon" in Santa Barbara. I was super mannish in my cowboy boots and western button up, like a boss. The dinner was decent, which is surprising given the reputation of the place, I expected it to be much better. In truth, the restaurant we've been going to in town is much better overall. I will say that the wine pairings they did for this meal were pretty fabulous.
One thing I realized at dinner was that after a couple of glasses of wine, I turn into a social butterfly. Without it, I'm kind of aloof and introverted, but get some red in me and all of a sudden I'm sharing entrees with the old lady at the table next to us. I need to slip myself a flask at the next school function so it's not so awkward.
I got to celebrate my birthday in style today by going to a swanky restaurant called "Bouchon" in Santa Barbara. I was super mannish in my cowboy boots and western button up, like a boss. The dinner was decent, which is surprising given the reputation of the place, I expected it to be much better. In truth, the restaurant we've been going to in town is much better overall. I will say that the wine pairings they did for this meal were pretty fabulous.
One thing I realized at dinner was that after a couple of glasses of wine, I turn into a social butterfly. Without it, I'm kind of aloof and introverted, but get some red in me and all of a sudden I'm sharing entrees with the old lady at the table next to us. I need to slip myself a flask at the next school function so it's not so awkward.
Friday, September 28, 2012
Year of writing 274. Airplane Boy.
9/28/12
He wobbles heavy, drunk
with anticipation. His
legs at best a frustration,
an ungainly tether to this
carpet, this earth. He
raises both hands to
the ceiling, face contorted
a wail forming on his lips.
I bend down to him, toss
his body into the air, watch
his face split with joy.
I can appreciate the gravity
of this moment, the manner
in which weight gives way
to flight; the split seconds
when body ceases, when
air is all that matters.
He wobbles heavy, drunk
with anticipation. His
legs at best a frustration,
an ungainly tether to this
carpet, this earth. He
raises both hands to
the ceiling, face contorted
a wail forming on his lips.
I bend down to him, toss
his body into the air, watch
his face split with joy.
I can appreciate the gravity
of this moment, the manner
in which weight gives way
to flight; the split seconds
when body ceases, when
air is all that matters.
Thursday, September 27, 2012
Year of writing 273. thirty five.
9/27/12
35 years ago, I was born. I need to marinate on that for a minute.
35 years ago, I was born. I need to marinate on that for a minute.
Wednesday, September 26, 2012
Year of writing 272. This kid.
Miles is one. He has zero teeth - but a million charisma, so I guess it all balances out. His new things are pulling up on anything he can get his hands on, crawling all over me and laughing in my ear really loudly, stealing sunglasses, eating pizza, and being much cuter than anything else on the planet. I'm going to be 35 tomorrow, and I just realized that when Miles turns 35, I'll be 70. That doesn't scare me too much, it just makes me realize I should take care of myself a little bit. So, I'm going to go get my cholesterol screened on Friday, and walk all over Fiona Apple's treadmill. (Did I mention I own Fiona Apple's treadmill?) I do. For real.
Tuesday, September 25, 2012
Year of writing 271. morning.
9/25/12
The light stung sharp;
pointed like tongues
and tines, it angled steep
from the window.
He wasn't awake,
in any cognitive sense
of the word, his left eye
still buried in the pillow
his right open just enough
to catch this lone ray,
this painful beginning.
He let it hurt for a while,
tattooing its brightness
against his retina. He coughed
then, once, and reached a
slow hand to the blinds.
The light stung sharp;
pointed like tongues
and tines, it angled steep
from the window.
He wasn't awake,
in any cognitive sense
of the word, his left eye
still buried in the pillow
his right open just enough
to catch this lone ray,
this painful beginning.
He let it hurt for a while,
tattooing its brightness
against his retina. He coughed
then, once, and reached a
slow hand to the blinds.
Monday, September 24, 2012
Year of writing 270. The dentist, part whatever.
9/24/12
My loathing of dentists has been quite well documented. I am not ashamed of the fact that I have anxiety around dentists, it's just another part of me - as Michael Jackson might have said. That being said, I usually am cool with cleanings. I do have sort of sensitive gums, due to the fact that I never really floss, since that would make going to the dentist easier, and I think I might be addicted to the fear of the situation. However, cleanings are more often than not pretty benign affairs. So knowing that I had to drop off the boy with my cousin today and get my teeth cleaned wasn't such a big deal - I can handle this kind of thing.
I was wrong.
It started off fine - great even - the hygienist knew my mom and dad, she was really friendly, and she gave me topical anesthetic for my gums. Bonus! Then she got to work. I was vaguely aware that she was using a whole lot of elbow while cleaning, my lower jaw felt like I was supporting her entire weight on my lower jaw at times. It wasn't until she said casually, "You'll probably need to take a few advil tonight, and wont be able to eat anything too solid for a while..." AFTER A CLEANING???? holy crap. Then, reality came rushing at me when I finally got to rinse, and instead of seeing maybe a pink tinge to the mouthwash, I spit blood like my tongue had just been cut out. And it didn't stop either - I spit the same bright red horror movie a few more times, and after giving the receptionist a winning bloody smile, spit more on my way home. As I write this at 8:15 PM (the appointment was at 10 AM), I am no longer bloody, but good god damn, my gums feel like somebody chewed them and put them back into my mouth.
Its official, I still hate the dentist.
My loathing of dentists has been quite well documented. I am not ashamed of the fact that I have anxiety around dentists, it's just another part of me - as Michael Jackson might have said. That being said, I usually am cool with cleanings. I do have sort of sensitive gums, due to the fact that I never really floss, since that would make going to the dentist easier, and I think I might be addicted to the fear of the situation. However, cleanings are more often than not pretty benign affairs. So knowing that I had to drop off the boy with my cousin today and get my teeth cleaned wasn't such a big deal - I can handle this kind of thing.
I was wrong.
It started off fine - great even - the hygienist knew my mom and dad, she was really friendly, and she gave me topical anesthetic for my gums. Bonus! Then she got to work. I was vaguely aware that she was using a whole lot of elbow while cleaning, my lower jaw felt like I was supporting her entire weight on my lower jaw at times. It wasn't until she said casually, "You'll probably need to take a few advil tonight, and wont be able to eat anything too solid for a while..." AFTER A CLEANING???? holy crap. Then, reality came rushing at me when I finally got to rinse, and instead of seeing maybe a pink tinge to the mouthwash, I spit blood like my tongue had just been cut out. And it didn't stop either - I spit the same bright red horror movie a few more times, and after giving the receptionist a winning bloody smile, spit more on my way home. As I write this at 8:15 PM (the appointment was at 10 AM), I am no longer bloody, but good god damn, my gums feel like somebody chewed them and put them back into my mouth.
Its official, I still hate the dentist.
Year of writing 269. Miles' party.
9/23/12
Miles' party was a success - catered by a rad tamale place in town that makes their own pickled jalepenos and carrots, beer by dos equis, and drinks by capri sun. It was a dinosaur theme for some reason, so Tegan created a pin the tail on the dinosaur game, I made a hunting for dinosaurs game out of inflatable dinos and a bow and arrow. We had a beautiful cake from the same place our wedding cake came from, all on dinosaur plates. Overall, it was really nice. Following the party, I had to rush over to the Jester for our 80's show - which we ruled like always. However, as I was packing up the DJ stuff at about 12:30, I suddenly felt really ill. Stupid ill, like somebody took a brick and hit me in the head, no more like I was wearing a pain headband. Then, my stomach started cramping and I had immedarrhea (immediate diarrhea). All in all I give this day a 6. Would have been at least a nine if not for that pesky loose stool situation.
Miles' party was a success - catered by a rad tamale place in town that makes their own pickled jalepenos and carrots, beer by dos equis, and drinks by capri sun. It was a dinosaur theme for some reason, so Tegan created a pin the tail on the dinosaur game, I made a hunting for dinosaurs game out of inflatable dinos and a bow and arrow. We had a beautiful cake from the same place our wedding cake came from, all on dinosaur plates. Overall, it was really nice. Following the party, I had to rush over to the Jester for our 80's show - which we ruled like always. However, as I was packing up the DJ stuff at about 12:30, I suddenly felt really ill. Stupid ill, like somebody took a brick and hit me in the head, no more like I was wearing a pain headband. Then, my stomach started cramping and I had immedarrhea (immediate diarrhea). All in all I give this day a 6. Would have been at least a nine if not for that pesky loose stool situation.
Saturday, September 22, 2012
Year of writing 268. First words.
9/22/12
Today is Miles' birthday. He's officially in the year club. For his birthday, he decided to be a little selfless and give me a present. In the morning, when I saw him, he looked up and said "dada." This is not too unusual, since "da" is one of the syllables he repeats over and over again - but it was pretty pointed this morning. Then, once more in the afternoon, and finally this evening, he said it again when I walked into the room, along with a pointed index finger in my direction, like: "DAD. What the hell? I've been saying my first words to you all day and you can't even give me a goddamn reaction? Jesus."
Ok, so maybe it had a bit less blasphemy, and a little more cuteness, but the sentiment was definitely there. Sorry my boy, when a moment is as big as saying MY NAME for your first word, I gotta be sure. Love you, kid.
Today is Miles' birthday. He's officially in the year club. For his birthday, he decided to be a little selfless and give me a present. In the morning, when I saw him, he looked up and said "dada." This is not too unusual, since "da" is one of the syllables he repeats over and over again - but it was pretty pointed this morning. Then, once more in the afternoon, and finally this evening, he said it again when I walked into the room, along with a pointed index finger in my direction, like: "DAD. What the hell? I've been saying my first words to you all day and you can't even give me a goddamn reaction? Jesus."
Ok, so maybe it had a bit less blasphemy, and a little more cuteness, but the sentiment was definitely there. Sorry my boy, when a moment is as big as saying MY NAME for your first word, I gotta be sure. Love you, kid.
Year of Writing 267. Ugh.
9/21/12
Isla woke up this morning with stomach flu. Usually when Isla is sick, which seems like all the time, if a snotty nose is an accurate barometer, she is still in a great mood and never complains about the sickness. This morning she was really upset; her tummy hurt, and she had a grand total of 6 diarrhea visits during the day. Hence, no school. Now, if it wasn't Friday, and I wasn't burnt from the rest of the week I may have found better activities than I did, but that unfortunately wasn't the case, so I spent the day watching her watch cartoons. That sounds bad, but really, I think we both needed a good dose of Strawberry Shortcake. Which leads me to an aside - my favorite thing Isla does of all time is sing a "Strawberry Shortcake" song which she made up, all in the stylings of the Ramones. Just imagine it... now multiply whatever you imagined by a factor of 1,000 and that's how awesome it is.
The stomach flu, however is not awesome. Neither is hearing this statement yelled at you from the living room: "Daddy! I think I went poop a little bit."
"Where? in the toilet?"
"No, on the carpet."
"Oh no! Let's change your undies and give you a bath."
"I'm not wearing any clothes, daddy."
*facepalm.
Isla woke up this morning with stomach flu. Usually when Isla is sick, which seems like all the time, if a snotty nose is an accurate barometer, she is still in a great mood and never complains about the sickness. This morning she was really upset; her tummy hurt, and she had a grand total of 6 diarrhea visits during the day. Hence, no school. Now, if it wasn't Friday, and I wasn't burnt from the rest of the week I may have found better activities than I did, but that unfortunately wasn't the case, so I spent the day watching her watch cartoons. That sounds bad, but really, I think we both needed a good dose of Strawberry Shortcake. Which leads me to an aside - my favorite thing Isla does of all time is sing a "Strawberry Shortcake" song which she made up, all in the stylings of the Ramones. Just imagine it... now multiply whatever you imagined by a factor of 1,000 and that's how awesome it is.
The stomach flu, however is not awesome. Neither is hearing this statement yelled at you from the living room: "Daddy! I think I went poop a little bit."
"Where? in the toilet?"
"No, on the carpet."
"Oh no! Let's change your undies and give you a bath."
"I'm not wearing any clothes, daddy."
*facepalm.
Wednesday, September 19, 2012
Year of writing 261. Lunch served
9/19/12
My daughter does a lot of things better than me. She dances better, has a better imagination, has way more patience, knows how to put makeup on a horse, can draw better and is much cuter. I'm totally ok with these things. However, when one of her spectacular abilities begins to infringe on my own perceived strengths, I start to get paranoid. Case in point today: Isla begins asking me what I would like for my meal as we're playing restaurant. (she has already designed a menu with prices and pictures of the food I could order). I order some hot dogs and cake, keeping it simple. Now, I consider myself to be somewhat of an accomplished amateur chef. I can cook all kinds of cuisine, and pretty well too. However, I am not so good at the plating aspect - it pretty much always looks like what it is, some good food on a plate. Here is what Isla sat me down to.
Note the flowers on the plates, and the color pallete.
I hang my head in shame. You win again, little girl, you win again.
My daughter does a lot of things better than me. She dances better, has a better imagination, has way more patience, knows how to put makeup on a horse, can draw better and is much cuter. I'm totally ok with these things. However, when one of her spectacular abilities begins to infringe on my own perceived strengths, I start to get paranoid. Case in point today: Isla begins asking me what I would like for my meal as we're playing restaurant. (she has already designed a menu with prices and pictures of the food I could order). I order some hot dogs and cake, keeping it simple. Now, I consider myself to be somewhat of an accomplished amateur chef. I can cook all kinds of cuisine, and pretty well too. However, I am not so good at the plating aspect - it pretty much always looks like what it is, some good food on a plate. Here is what Isla sat me down to.
Note the flowers on the plates, and the color pallete.
I hang my head in shame. You win again, little girl, you win again.
Tuesday, September 18, 2012
Year of writing 260. The mask
9/18/12
I ordered a couple horse head masks, thinking they'd be cool props for the Wild Stallions show, that and they were cheap and I wanted a horse head mask. They arrived today, while Isla was at school, and I got excited to show her how outrageous they look.
I busted one out of it's cellophane cage and played with Miles for a couple minutes, he grabbed it and tried to eat the nose, but was otherwise pretty disinterested. I had to go get Isla soon after, so the horse head went back in the box and all was to the good. After Isla got home, I surprised her with a whinny and nicker, she laughed and wanted to try on the horse, with one caveat - she had to be in complete princess regalia, a princess horse. She's entitled to her idiosyncrasies, so I documented the final result.
It's a good look for her.
I wish the story ended here - but after a long, long day at work - almost 15 hours, Tegan got home and I tried to show her. All hell broke loose. Miles unleashed a bloodcurdling scream that should be reserved for when one runs into a long lost relative come back from the dead to eat one's brains, which sent Isla into sympathy wails. I snatched the mask from my head and tried to calm Miles, which took a minute, but was ultimately successful. Until he saw the mask lying where I had tossed it, at which point he redoubled his efforts to communicate his distress with another baby who must have been at least 5,000 miles away, judging by the volume of his calls. Meanwhile, Tegan is looking at me like I'm the worst father in the history of fatherdom, and probably is at this moment going through my wallet so she can revoke my dad card. I swear on everything holy, Tegan, they were fine with the horse head earlier, I swear.
I ordered a couple horse head masks, thinking they'd be cool props for the Wild Stallions show, that and they were cheap and I wanted a horse head mask. They arrived today, while Isla was at school, and I got excited to show her how outrageous they look.
It's a good look for her.
I wish the story ended here - but after a long, long day at work - almost 15 hours, Tegan got home and I tried to show her. All hell broke loose. Miles unleashed a bloodcurdling scream that should be reserved for when one runs into a long lost relative come back from the dead to eat one's brains, which sent Isla into sympathy wails. I snatched the mask from my head and tried to calm Miles, which took a minute, but was ultimately successful. Until he saw the mask lying where I had tossed it, at which point he redoubled his efforts to communicate his distress with another baby who must have been at least 5,000 miles away, judging by the volume of his calls. Meanwhile, Tegan is looking at me like I'm the worst father in the history of fatherdom, and probably is at this moment going through my wallet so she can revoke my dad card. I swear on everything holy, Tegan, they were fine with the horse head earlier, I swear.
Year of writing 259. The stalker
9/17/12
On the way to watch Monday night football at a friends house I had only been to once before, at night, I got lost. The house is up a side street, past some orchards, across a bridge, that kind of place. In my circling around and around where senor GPS told me the house should be, I passed a woman and a teenage boy standing outside their house talking. I passed them probably six or seven times before I realized that the woman was my old high school Government teacher Ms. Bartow. I paused to roll down the window and she ushered herself and her kid swiftly inside the house with a look of genuine panic on her face. Great. Now my high school teacher thinks I'm stalking her family.
On the way to watch Monday night football at a friends house I had only been to once before, at night, I got lost. The house is up a side street, past some orchards, across a bridge, that kind of place. In my circling around and around where senor GPS told me the house should be, I passed a woman and a teenage boy standing outside their house talking. I passed them probably six or seven times before I realized that the woman was my old high school Government teacher Ms. Bartow. I paused to roll down the window and she ushered herself and her kid swiftly inside the house with a look of genuine panic on her face. Great. Now my high school teacher thinks I'm stalking her family.
Sunday, September 16, 2012
Year of writing 256-258. Gotta own it.
9/14/12 - 9/16/12
I have to own the fact that I have not been able to keep up with the daily blog. It's weird, I'm not working, but working more than I ever have at the same time. Oh well. This will encapsulate my weekend - let's get back to bullet format, these things I have learned about myself and the world around me this weekend:
1. Jon and I are better DJ's than most people I've seen.
2. I love the beach, seriously. On a hot ass day, the ocean is amazing. I never liked going as a kid, hated the way the water left me all salty, but now I want to be there all the time.
3. When babies can't move, you wish they could. When they can, good lord do you wish they'd stay put.
4. I can cook the crap outta Indian food.
5. I saw my wife drawing little pictures on Isla's napkins in her school lunch, then when I picked her up from school, the teacher said her lunch time art has been something all the kids look forward to. So rad.
I have to own the fact that I have not been able to keep up with the daily blog. It's weird, I'm not working, but working more than I ever have at the same time. Oh well. This will encapsulate my weekend - let's get back to bullet format, these things I have learned about myself and the world around me this weekend:
1. Jon and I are better DJ's than most people I've seen.
2. I love the beach, seriously. On a hot ass day, the ocean is amazing. I never liked going as a kid, hated the way the water left me all salty, but now I want to be there all the time.
3. When babies can't move, you wish they could. When they can, good lord do you wish they'd stay put.
4. I can cook the crap outta Indian food.
5. I saw my wife drawing little pictures on Isla's napkins in her school lunch, then when I picked her up from school, the teacher said her lunch time art has been something all the kids look forward to. So rad.
Year of writing 255. tearing down walls
9/13/12
I mentioned yesterday about upping my Wednesday game. I need to amend that, I have to up my weekday game in general. Thinking that Isla's school would give me some freedom to get stuff done was a fantasy. Instead, I have an hour after dropping her off before Miles needs to take a nap. This is a scheduling nightmare. It takes a while to get him to sleep - then I clean up the hurricane residue that is our house, and he wakes up, then I have 45 minutes until I have to pick Isla up again. So once again, I'm stuck in the house. Stir crazy barely begins to explain it. I'm gonna start tearing down walls here pretty soon.
I mentioned yesterday about upping my Wednesday game. I need to amend that, I have to up my weekday game in general. Thinking that Isla's school would give me some freedom to get stuff done was a fantasy. Instead, I have an hour after dropping her off before Miles needs to take a nap. This is a scheduling nightmare. It takes a while to get him to sleep - then I clean up the hurricane residue that is our house, and he wakes up, then I have 45 minutes until I have to pick Isla up again. So once again, I'm stuck in the house. Stir crazy barely begins to explain it. I'm gonna start tearing down walls here pretty soon.
Year of Writing 254. Upping the game.
9/12/12
I need to up my Wednesday game exponentially. This is the one day of the week that Isla doesn't go to school, and so far all of my best laid plans have been demolished by life and the realities of an 11 month old kid. Isla is not the kind of preschooler who loves to just sit and play by herself all day long, and our Wednesdays have consisted of chilling in the air conditioned house until Miles takes his naps so we can maybe go swimming or some other cool activity. Unfortunately, as soon as Miles wakes up stuff gets crazy and it's WAY too hot outside to try and motivate to get into the car. Man. I'm setting up a homemade slip n slide and some sprinkler action for next Wednesday for sure.
I need to up my Wednesday game exponentially. This is the one day of the week that Isla doesn't go to school, and so far all of my best laid plans have been demolished by life and the realities of an 11 month old kid. Isla is not the kind of preschooler who loves to just sit and play by herself all day long, and our Wednesdays have consisted of chilling in the air conditioned house until Miles takes his naps so we can maybe go swimming or some other cool activity. Unfortunately, as soon as Miles wakes up stuff gets crazy and it's WAY too hot outside to try and motivate to get into the car. Man. I'm setting up a homemade slip n slide and some sprinkler action for next Wednesday for sure.
Wednesday, September 12, 2012
Year of writing 253. Tuesday Mornings, no thank you.
9/11/12
This morning getting ready for school was pretty easy - I had the right breakfast, served her waffles with a raspberry happyface, Isla was in a great mood. That is, until she slammed her bedroom door, playing with Miles. Unfortunately her toe was underneath the door as she slammed it, so I heard a wail. "My tooooooe!" I looked at it, which was a huge mistake, as there was a large chunk of skin flapping around, and the toenail had been bent all the way back on her big toe. But, if I've learned anything about being a stay at home dad, it's that hello kitty bandaids can fix anything. Add a popsicle for good measure, and we're talking superdad. Never you mind that I almost puked and passed out while trying to put the toenail back down. Never you mind at all.
This morning getting ready for school was pretty easy - I had the right breakfast, served her waffles with a raspberry happyface, Isla was in a great mood. That is, until she slammed her bedroom door, playing with Miles. Unfortunately her toe was underneath the door as she slammed it, so I heard a wail. "My tooooooe!" I looked at it, which was a huge mistake, as there was a large chunk of skin flapping around, and the toenail had been bent all the way back on her big toe. But, if I've learned anything about being a stay at home dad, it's that hello kitty bandaids can fix anything. Add a popsicle for good measure, and we're talking superdad. Never you mind that I almost puked and passed out while trying to put the toenail back down. Never you mind at all.
Year of writing 252. Football, Who cares.
9/11/12
On this september 11th, I found myself sitting there at my house, with my brother, my brother in law, my stepdad and a couple friends watching football. That's what you do on a Monday when the Raiders are playing. I didn't really care all that much about watching football until college, when there was an actual team to root for. Then somehow I got roped into being a fan of the most painful NFL team to be a fan of. It's not that the raiders are horrible, they've gone 8-8 pretty much every year - it's that they give the fans false hope. They'll be brilliant one day, then, like tonight, suck so much ass you'd think you were watching an ass sucking contest. They needed one of those slurpee straws they were sucking so much ass.
On this september 11th, I found myself sitting there at my house, with my brother, my brother in law, my stepdad and a couple friends watching football. That's what you do on a Monday when the Raiders are playing. I didn't really care all that much about watching football until college, when there was an actual team to root for. Then somehow I got roped into being a fan of the most painful NFL team to be a fan of. It's not that the raiders are horrible, they've gone 8-8 pretty much every year - it's that they give the fans false hope. They'll be brilliant one day, then, like tonight, suck so much ass you'd think you were watching an ass sucking contest. They needed one of those slurpee straws they were sucking so much ass.
Monday, September 10, 2012
Year of writing 251. Taste of the town.
8/10/12
My wife won tickets to an event today called "Taste of the Town." I was mostly just happy to get to spend some daylight hours with Tegan sans kids, but hey free food is good too. As we drove through the hills of Santa Barbara to get to this event, I started to realize the amount of money that was involved. Mansions rolled by on either side and the greenery was obnoxiously lush. When we got to the event, we walked up to will call and they could not find our name. I felt a little like an imposter, then some manager came and asked if we were on the "VIP" list. We didn't know, so asked them to check... fully expecting to have to turn around and go home. Lo and behold, however, we were VIPs, so they ushered us off to a fully catered luncheon with things like compressed watermelon salad and buttermilk poached chicken. It was pretty rad. After, there was a fun auction, to which our limits were quite handily outbid, but it was still entertaining to watch.
If this were all, I would have, after 3 glasses of wine with lunch, gone home happy. What I did not realize was that next, we would be traipsing around tasting 80 restaurants and 40 wineries. I was overjoyed, and doomed. The food was phenomenal, highlights being the wonton sushi nacho, apple fritters, deep fried phylo dough wrapped prawns, and gold-dusted chocolate mousse. What got me in trouble though, were the wines and beers. I was already 3 glasses in, and I have no idea how many more glasses I drank, I'm pretty sure I sampled everything. Needless to say I was wobbly on the way back down the hill to the car. Wobbly, but happy.
My wife won tickets to an event today called "Taste of the Town." I was mostly just happy to get to spend some daylight hours with Tegan sans kids, but hey free food is good too. As we drove through the hills of Santa Barbara to get to this event, I started to realize the amount of money that was involved. Mansions rolled by on either side and the greenery was obnoxiously lush. When we got to the event, we walked up to will call and they could not find our name. I felt a little like an imposter, then some manager came and asked if we were on the "VIP" list. We didn't know, so asked them to check... fully expecting to have to turn around and go home. Lo and behold, however, we were VIPs, so they ushered us off to a fully catered luncheon with things like compressed watermelon salad and buttermilk poached chicken. It was pretty rad. After, there was a fun auction, to which our limits were quite handily outbid, but it was still entertaining to watch.
If this were all, I would have, after 3 glasses of wine with lunch, gone home happy. What I did not realize was that next, we would be traipsing around tasting 80 restaurants and 40 wineries. I was overjoyed, and doomed. The food was phenomenal, highlights being the wonton sushi nacho, apple fritters, deep fried phylo dough wrapped prawns, and gold-dusted chocolate mousse. What got me in trouble though, were the wines and beers. I was already 3 glasses in, and I have no idea how many more glasses I drank, I'm pretty sure I sampled everything. Needless to say I was wobbly on the way back down the hill to the car. Wobbly, but happy.
Year of writing 250. Grief
9/8/12
I found out on Saturday night that one of my students was killed in Hayward earlier that week. Tony Jones was a chubby 8th grader who was always smiling, joking and talking about how he was going to make it big. His uncle or cousin had a studio somewhere, and Tony would come after class with a fresh cd-rom to show off - his lyrics were all about having fun and being a kid, I remember that much. Tony was killed on Monday by a friend of his who had stolen a 22 caliber handgun from a 90 year old WW2 veteran the weekend before. Three days earlier, I had been speaking to Tony online, he sent me a message, wanting to catch up and talk about how he was a little nervous about becoming a father, his girlfriend is due in a week with a little girl. The last thing I told him was to always be there for her.
I don't know if it's because of our conversation, or that I've lost so many kids, and I have no more capacity for grief, but I have no idea what to do with it. I don't know where to put it, what to do or say, or even how to hold myself with this. Oakland, I love you, your children are beautiful - please, please protect them.
I found out on Saturday night that one of my students was killed in Hayward earlier that week. Tony Jones was a chubby 8th grader who was always smiling, joking and talking about how he was going to make it big. His uncle or cousin had a studio somewhere, and Tony would come after class with a fresh cd-rom to show off - his lyrics were all about having fun and being a kid, I remember that much. Tony was killed on Monday by a friend of his who had stolen a 22 caliber handgun from a 90 year old WW2 veteran the weekend before. Three days earlier, I had been speaking to Tony online, he sent me a message, wanting to catch up and talk about how he was a little nervous about becoming a father, his girlfriend is due in a week with a little girl. The last thing I told him was to always be there for her.
I don't know if it's because of our conversation, or that I've lost so many kids, and I have no more capacity for grief, but I have no idea what to do with it. I don't know where to put it, what to do or say, or even how to hold myself with this. Oakland, I love you, your children are beautiful - please, please protect them.
Sunday, September 9, 2012
Year of Writing 249. New Show
9/8/12
The newest Wild Stallions show happened on Friday night, and it was pretty rad. We played with a guy named Dave Palmer on the keys, he is a phenomenal keyboardist who has done albums with Fiona Apple, De La Soul, plus tons of other rad people. Friday night he played a modified Atari system and a pocket piano noisemaker thing that hit so hard. I was blown away. He is invited back to every party from now on.
The newest Wild Stallions show happened on Friday night, and it was pretty rad. We played with a guy named Dave Palmer on the keys, he is a phenomenal keyboardist who has done albums with Fiona Apple, De La Soul, plus tons of other rad people. Friday night he played a modified Atari system and a pocket piano noisemaker thing that hit so hard. I was blown away. He is invited back to every party from now on.
Year of writing 248. Naaaaaaan
9/6/12
I fell off. Totally. I'm writing Thursday's entry on Sunday. That's weak, I know, but it is what it is (or as my wife likes to say, "what the hell does that even mean?"
Thursday's dinner was pretty epic. If you know Indian food you might know butter chicken, a super spiced tomato creamy dish. You should also know what Naan is. Well, I made both for my beautiful wife for dinner. Homemade Naan. I mean, I'm not superman or anything, but I don't think he ever cooked Lois Lane Naan on a Thursday night after taking care of the kids all day. I want a badge or something.
I fell off. Totally. I'm writing Thursday's entry on Sunday. That's weak, I know, but it is what it is (or as my wife likes to say, "what the hell does that even mean?"
Thursday's dinner was pretty epic. If you know Indian food you might know butter chicken, a super spiced tomato creamy dish. You should also know what Naan is. Well, I made both for my beautiful wife for dinner. Homemade Naan. I mean, I'm not superman or anything, but I don't think he ever cooked Lois Lane Naan on a Thursday night after taking care of the kids all day. I want a badge or something.
Wednesday, September 5, 2012
Year of writing 247. Winning.
8/5/12
I had some friends over to watch football tonight on our supremely oversized television. Isla was in terrific form - doing ballet in front of the screen, and forcing people to play zoo with her when the game was on the line. I kind of like watching football with kids, it makes things interesting.
I had some friends over to watch football tonight on our supremely oversized television. Isla was in terrific form - doing ballet in front of the screen, and forcing people to play zoo with her when the game was on the line. I kind of like watching football with kids, it makes things interesting.
Year of writing 246. Back to School.
9/4/12
I am happily offloading my child onto the schoolyard at 830 every morning, and picking her up again at 1:15, nearly five hours of precious time to any stay at home parent. I have pipe dreams of cleaning the carpet, doing some dishes or the laundry, fixing the sliding doors, starting a million other projects. However, life doesn't really work like that. Instead, I find myself wrestling Miles for an hour and a half, trying to get him to sleep, failing, then trying again for an hour. Once he finally is asleep I have lost all motivation to do anything, so I sit, slack jawed on the couch until I need to wake up the baby and pick up Isla. Upon arrival, she says "Can I stay longer?"
Yes, my dear, you may.
I am happily offloading my child onto the schoolyard at 830 every morning, and picking her up again at 1:15, nearly five hours of precious time to any stay at home parent. I have pipe dreams of cleaning the carpet, doing some dishes or the laundry, fixing the sliding doors, starting a million other projects. However, life doesn't really work like that. Instead, I find myself wrestling Miles for an hour and a half, trying to get him to sleep, failing, then trying again for an hour. Once he finally is asleep I have lost all motivation to do anything, so I sit, slack jawed on the couch until I need to wake up the baby and pick up Isla. Upon arrival, she says "Can I stay longer?"
Yes, my dear, you may.
Year of writing 245 The Mantis
9/3/12
She reached out for it without fear, my daughter's hands stopped near its legs. "Will I break it?" she asked, her fingers curled back like question marks. "Is it real? Or is it a toy?" She held her hand out gingerly upon my reassurances, let it wobble its way onto her palm. Her giggles rolled down the hills as the mantis tickled between her fingers, its head swiveling curiously as it tried to make sense of its surroundings. She gently places it back on the leaf it came from and joyously races off to find bees and flies for it to eat.
She reached out for it without fear, my daughter's hands stopped near its legs. "Will I break it?" she asked, her fingers curled back like question marks. "Is it real? Or is it a toy?" She held her hand out gingerly upon my reassurances, let it wobble its way onto her palm. Her giggles rolled down the hills as the mantis tickled between her fingers, its head swiveling curiously as it tried to make sense of its surroundings. She gently places it back on the leaf it came from and joyously races off to find bees and flies for it to eat.
Monday, September 3, 2012
Year of writing 244 The Mawwwwl.
9/2/12
For the first time in my entire life, I went to a mall and didn't want to murder everyone within a 100 yard radius of me. It was weird, maybe it was the ecstasy spiked Wetzel's Pretzels or the fact that the Disney Store makes me uncharacteristically giddy, but we had a good time with our kids. AND I had to do the grocery shopping as well, no fights, nary a curt word was spoken. Successful Sunday FTW!
Sidenote: The Disney store has a section dedicated just to the Villains. This is effing amazing.
For the first time in my entire life, I went to a mall and didn't want to murder everyone within a 100 yard radius of me. It was weird, maybe it was the ecstasy spiked Wetzel's Pretzels or the fact that the Disney Store makes me uncharacteristically giddy, but we had a good time with our kids. AND I had to do the grocery shopping as well, no fights, nary a curt word was spoken. Successful Sunday FTW!
Sidenote: The Disney store has a section dedicated just to the Villains. This is effing amazing.
Year of writing 243. Burning man.
9/1/12
My friend Jon and I had a lapse in judgement in agreeing to DJ a burning man party for people who hadn't gone to burning man. The tipoff should have been the guy who runs the space, which is the real reason we were doing it in the first place, so we could have run our own party using his space - hence we worked for free. At any rate, this dude has no idea what he's doing in terms of running a party for profit, aka a club.
The night was supposed to start at 8 with a live band. We were there earlier to set up a sound system that we had to borrow for the place, because dude has none. When 8 rolled around, there was no band at all. Instead, we waited until 8:30, then put on an itunes playlist, which was fine, since NOBODY was in the building at this point. At about 8:50, an older man about 55 or 60, came in, donned rollerskates, and began cruising around the concrete floor of the place. He was the only one there. Ten minutes into his routine, homeboy falls, breaks his wrist, and turns white as a sheet. I put him on the couch, get some ice, and tell him to chill til he can get picked up. Then, he needs water, goes to the bar, and passes the fuck out. I have to carry him back to the couch and call 911. Nobody else is there yet.
At 9:30 or so, Daniel Ashe, a local celebrity who used to play bass in Bauhaus and Love and Rockets, started his DJ set. He loves him some smoke machine, let me tell you what. His set was so ridiculous I won't even go into it. I just have a problem with DJs who don't care enough to beatmatch or blend songs. Just get Pandora.
Then our host, who has never actually been a dj, wanted to spin. I will leave it to your imagination, as long as you imagine something horrible.
Our set was supposed to be super facemelting electronica to pacify the burners who were there. They were into it for about 45 minutes. Then everything started to suck. The owner kicked his own bartender out, then complained because nobody was serving. People stopped dancing until we played 90's hits, and the bottom line is, we will never do crap like this again. For free too. Jesus.
My friend Jon and I had a lapse in judgement in agreeing to DJ a burning man party for people who hadn't gone to burning man. The tipoff should have been the guy who runs the space, which is the real reason we were doing it in the first place, so we could have run our own party using his space - hence we worked for free. At any rate, this dude has no idea what he's doing in terms of running a party for profit, aka a club.
The night was supposed to start at 8 with a live band. We were there earlier to set up a sound system that we had to borrow for the place, because dude has none. When 8 rolled around, there was no band at all. Instead, we waited until 8:30, then put on an itunes playlist, which was fine, since NOBODY was in the building at this point. At about 8:50, an older man about 55 or 60, came in, donned rollerskates, and began cruising around the concrete floor of the place. He was the only one there. Ten minutes into his routine, homeboy falls, breaks his wrist, and turns white as a sheet. I put him on the couch, get some ice, and tell him to chill til he can get picked up. Then, he needs water, goes to the bar, and passes the fuck out. I have to carry him back to the couch and call 911. Nobody else is there yet.
At 9:30 or so, Daniel Ashe, a local celebrity who used to play bass in Bauhaus and Love and Rockets, started his DJ set. He loves him some smoke machine, let me tell you what. His set was so ridiculous I won't even go into it. I just have a problem with DJs who don't care enough to beatmatch or blend songs. Just get Pandora.
Then our host, who has never actually been a dj, wanted to spin. I will leave it to your imagination, as long as you imagine something horrible.
Our set was supposed to be super facemelting electronica to pacify the burners who were there. They were into it for about 45 minutes. Then everything started to suck. The owner kicked his own bartender out, then complained because nobody was serving. People stopped dancing until we played 90's hits, and the bottom line is, we will never do crap like this again. For free too. Jesus.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)