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.
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