Monday, May 31, 2010

For Memorial Day I became a grandfather

I've been called a lot of things in my life, but Grandpa is a new one.

We were at the playground this morning in a vain attempt to beat the Memorial Day heat when another dad with the same thought showed up with his daughter. 3B was running around in his pink sleeveless shirt, his long red hair rising in a corolla around his head, lifted by the static electricity from multiple trips down the plastic slides.

The other dad kept referring to him as "her" and "she" and I really don't care, and half of the time 3B wants to be a girl anyway, so he certainly doesn't mind.

Finally, however, we were talking about our kids, and I thought, "Here it comes." Sure enough, after exchanging pleasantries about each of them, the other dad asked, "So, is that your daughter?" As I opened my mouth to explain, he followed up, "Or is that your granddaughter?"


"Actually, that's my son."



Maybe, after 24 years, it's time to shave this red gray beard of mine. And next month, you may have a chance to force me to do that, or engage in other depilatory activities...more on that next

I'm working to make cancer history. Will you help me?

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Friday, May 28, 2010

5 of my 15 minutes: Hello, Angels

I just finished my first television interview, and I'm happy to report that I didn't go all Dances on Couches. Even if I had, however, you wouldn't have seen it, since my presence was limited to a speaker phone on the host's desk.

Somehow I resisted the urge to start the interview with, "Hello, Angels." Seriously. I did. Don't believe me? See for yourself; watch the show. (My segment starts six minutes in.)

Other than that, however, I'm not exactly sure what I did say--five minutes flew by. I do know that I left some comments out. I forgot to

  • thank the academy
  • tell my wife I love her
  • get played off by the orchestra
  • Rickroll you...oh, wait, I did that...
  • mention my friends who inspire me--those I've lost, those who are still fighting cancer and those who have donated so generously and selflessly in support of my ride
Overall it went well, and I'm looking forward to keeping in touch with Kevin throughout my training and preparation for the ride. I'm almost halfway to my fundraising goal, which means I'm making great progress, but I still have many dollars to raise, so any help like this is welcome.

And by "like this," I mean that if you're friends with Anderson Cooper, why haven't you sent him my phone number already? And if you're not friends with Mr. 360, I am available to be a disembodied voice on your show, write a guest post, or otherwise besmirch your good online reputation with my presence in the interest of raising more money to fight cancer and support patients like Jack Coates.

Coates survived a brain tumor, which is what killed my father, thanks to the work of the Dana-Farber Cancer Institute. His care didn't end when his medical treatment ended--Dana-Farber still helps him manage the long-term physical and emotional effects of his tumor and treatments.

To me, his survival is a miracle, and that miracle and his treatments and long-term care are made possible by donations like yours--100% of which go to the researchers, doctors, nurses and other caring professionals working every day at Dana-Farber to make miracles happen.

Which is why I'm saving my John Forsythe impersonation for the ride--so I can say it to the Dana-Farber staff who it truly describes...Hello, Angels.

I'm working to make cancer history. Will you help me?

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Wednesday, May 26, 2010

I'm going to be on TV! I'm (internet) famous!

Update: If you missed the live show, you can view the archive. (My segment starts 6 minutes in.)

If you think I have a face for radio, you're not the only one. Tomorrow, I make my debut on TV--by calling in to a talk show in Portland, Oregon, to talk about preparing for the Pan-Mass Challenge.

Through the magic tubes of the innernets, you can even watch live.

The host is Kevin Aguilar, who found out about me via a childhood friend who posted an update on Facebook. I think this social media thing might just take off after all.

Kevin is planning to make this an ongoing series, with hopes to have me visible at some point in the future, likely via Skype. Clearly he has yet to see a picture of me.

So, now that you've all had to get off that Lost crack cold turkey, tune in to this. Get hooked. I'm your Lost methadone program.

I'm working to make cancer history. Will you help me?

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Sunday, May 23, 2010

The big bang you heard was my head exploding

This afternoon, 3B answered a question that's been vexing astronomers and philosophers for years.

To be fair, his quest for the answer started a few weeks back, while we visited the Museum of Natural History in New York. He loved the dinosaurs, the 94-foot long whale model and the instruments from Africa--over the weekend he asked me again, "Daddy, can we go to Africa and get one of those little guitars?" Me: "Yes, sure, someday." 3B: "Tomorrow?"

But where he took off was in the space exhibit. We came into it at the exit, unaware that we were doing so. That left us at the bottom of the spiral ramp down from the entrance. While Uncle FunkDaddie and I checked what our weight would be on the Moon, 3B took off up the ramp at a dead sprint. Although it only took Uncles D and FunkDaddie and me half a nanosecond to bolt after him, he was so far ahead of us, all we could hear were his footsteps slapping on the steel ramp as he circled away and above us.

As we neared the top, a woman looked over the railing and asked if that boy was ours. We said no, that we were abducting him--of course he's ours, you ninny. She promised to stop him, but she didn't look like she'd be any match for 3B, so we kept on. What we didn't know was that she had nature on her side--specifically the element iron, which was likely part of the alloy in the doors that 3B found closed at the top of the ramp.

She explained that we were coming in through the out door, but that we were welcome to watch the show in the theater we were entering, which introduces the exhibits all down the ramp that we had just sprinted past. 3B didn't want to see the show at first, since it started with a big bang--the Big Bang, to be precise--but he endured and ended up absorbing quite a bit of it.

As we walked down the ramp, we pointed out how the exhibits detail the passage of billions of years and the evolution of the universe, our galaxy and life on Earth.

While we were out riding bikes in circles--spirals, according to 3B--all of this came back to him, and he asked me:

"Daddy, why were there no stars before the Big Bang?"

"Because they all came from the Big Bang."

"So, what was there before the Big Bang?"

"That is a question that I don't have the answer to."

"So, before the Big Bang--was there nothing?"

"I suppose so."

"Then that is the answer."

Well then.

I suppose we can call Stephen Hawking and tell him that his life's work is complete now.

I'm working to make cancer history. Will you help me?

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Friday, May 21, 2010

Flipping the bird

Just after a friend asked on Facebook what to do about birds nesting on her balcony, we found that a pigeon had not only nested under one of our bike covers, but already hatched out what was, by the time we found it, a large baby.

This was instant karma for my one-word reply to my friend: squab.

As you may know, when we thought the mom had abandoned the baby, Mama called the city animal shelter. They told Mama to bring the baby in, that they could care for it. When she got there, they said that they'd take it, but only to kill it.

Turns out we have a different definition of "care for."

They did give us a shoebox, however, which Mama returned to the house with, full of twigs and baby bird. We figured the baby would maybe last the weekend, but we couldn't have been more wrong, and yesterday it appears to have taken its first flight off of our balcony, never to return...we hope. While it was fun to watch it grow up, those birds brought mostly grief, starting with shredding all of our bike covers.

The kids were interested in the baby, however--Jewel more than 3B. She loved watching it pace along our railing, looking down then back at us as if to say, "Are you sure about this flying thing?" As if we could help.

For awhile it looked as if Jewel might walk before the baby ever flew, but the most heated competition was who could poop the most. Jewel was definitely slowed down by her adoption of solid food over the last two weeks, while the baby bird seems to have accelerated its poopage rate as it grew larger.

So, while the birds have flipped out, they left behind a balcony that now resembles nothing if not the Augean Stables.

Because we live on the 7th floor and actually like the six people who live below us, we can't just wash the crap over the edge. Well, because of that and the fact that we lack a garden and therefore lack a garden hose. So this weekend we'll be going through the final state of grief over this.

So far we've been through

Denial: Not just a river in Egypt, but we might need a river of that size to clean this shit up.
Anger: Why us? It's not fair! We're vegetarians, so we can't even enjoy squab, no matter how good it smells while we cook it.
Bargaining: If you get off my balcony, you stinky birds, I won't take you back the the city shelter.
Depression: If I fire a shotgun at you two, it will leave a depression in my balcony.
Acceptance: It's going to be OK. I can't fight it, I might as well just clean up after it. And since we like all the people who live below us, we'll just have to pick up all the crap by hand...and box it up for our next door neighbor, who complains about noises that we don't make.
And what are you doing this weekend? Have you considered curing cancer?

The other five loyal readers of this blog have already contributed--and one will be getting a custom bike jersey for it--but I still need to raise $2,100. I also need more people to carry with me on my ride.

It takes just a minute, and it could last a lifetime.

I'm working to make cancer history. Will you help me?

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Monday, May 17, 2010

Naked, ready to fly

So, I'm standing in the middle of our living room, stark naked, facing our sliding glass doors, holding our Flip camera in one hand and our still camera in the other, thinking to myself that this is how it happens.

I was there because while I was starting my shower, I heard Mama start yelling, "Papa! Papa! Come out here now!" Judging by the tone of her voice, I figured that one of our kids was on their way to the hospital, something had burst into flames, or perhaps both.

Turns out it wasn't anything like that, but it still got me out of the bathroom, down the hall and into the living room before the clock ticked twice, because this is how it happens: there's a time to act, and there's no time to hesitate.

When the life of someone you love is on the line, when there's nobody else who's going to save them, when there's something you can do--that's when it's time. And, for you, that time is now. If they haven't already, someone you love will get cancer, they're going to need doctors and medical research to save them, and you can give them both by supporting my ride to make cancer history--the Pan-Mass Challenge.

When you do, 100 percent of your donation will go straight to the institute that developed the prostate cancer vaccine--the Dana Farber Cancer Institute. To the institute that saved the life of six-month-old Julia...who's now seven years old, and seven-year-old Dan...who's now seventeen years old, and scores more, thanks to people like you.

Every child deserves a place like Dana Farber, where even the ironworkers who weld together the steel skeleton of the building itself help care for the kids. It's not just a hospital, it's a place built from the bones out with love.

Speaking of hospitals, it turns out that neither kid was on their way there or engulfed in flame. In fact, neither knew what Mama was hollering about, which was that the former baby, now nearly full grown, bird that's been living on our balcony for the last several weeks looked ready to take its first flight.

It was poised on the balcony railing, next to its mother, but at the last minute got spooked, and retreated to the safety of first our rocking chair and then back down onto the balcony floor. This is not unlike the progress Jewel is making toward standing and walking. She pulls herself up on anything she can, but then often ends up stranded, unable to move on, so she lets herself down, crawls over to the next vertical surface and begins again.

Soon enough, Jewel will take her first steps, and soon enough that bird will raise his wings, then spring off of our railing into the wind, trusting, as Jewel does, that should he falter, his mother will be there to catch him, and comfort him if he's wounded.

And just as I will be for Jewel, I'll likely be there, cameras in hand, recording every amazing and delightful moment.

Only hopefully this time I'll have some clothes on.

I'm working to make cancer history. Will you help me?

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Saturday, May 15, 2010

Don't look back

Yesterday, Jewel got it all together and started crawling forward over great distances. The day before that, she'd been able to go short distances, but then would have to sit up to recalibrate before proceeding.

Now, she can go as long as she wants, allowing her to get to anything she desires.

What's amazing to me--still--is how developments like this are seemingly such light switch events: one day the crawling switch is off, the next day it's on. Same thing with walking and other physical developments.

Talking is different, since it's a constant evolution. Hell, if you read this blog regularly, you know that I'm still working on my language skills more than 40 years after the fact.

But, before I get to my next English lesson, my first task will be to crawl around the house, looking for hazards. Jewel's new mobility combined with her ability and desire to pull up on anything to a standing position mean that she's able to find hazards nearly anywhere in the house.

That, combined with 3B's laissez faire attitude about putting his toys away--as well as the fact that our condo is the size of a shoebox, giving him few places to put toys away--has led to some exciting games of Gimme That!-This Is Mine! with Jewel.

Fortunately, she's still of an age where "look, a shiny thing" really does distract her, but with her constant forward progress, we're going to have to find a new technique soon, before the shiny thing light switch switches off.

I'm working to make cancer history. Will you help me?

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Friday, May 14, 2010

3-year-old pyromaniac: Worst parents ever

3B's class took a tour of the fire station next to his school today. He was heartbroken that neither Mama nor I could go with him, but apparently recovered and had a great time, even though he reported that he was disappointed, "because they wouldn't let me touch anything."

This is in contrast to our trips to our local fire station where they let him do anything he wants short of driving the truck. Seriously. They pull out the axes and chain saws and jaws of life for him. It's him, of course.

The mother of one of his best friends did go along on today's trip, however, and reported back that, as usual, our articulate boy made an impression with this exchange:

Firefighter: "Boys and girls, what do you do if you find some matches lying around your house?"
3B: "Light them!"
I'm putting this one on Mama for introducing him to Def Leppard.

I'm working to make cancer history. Will you help me?

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Wednesday, May 12, 2010

Where was I?

I've gotten the question several times now: How was New York?

I suppose I've been distracted by other things, like the shin splints I brought back home with me, Jewel's teething, near total sleep deprivation, the letter from our condo management company threatening us with fines if we continue using our washer and dryer, and the bird that we thought was abandoned, but wasn't, then that we thought had flown the coop, but hadn't, which is still in residence on our balcony, crapping his happy little ass off wherever he goes.

But I digress...where was I? Oh yeah, New York...

Overall, NYC was great. For those who don't follow me on Twitter, the ride up on BoltBus was good. For the $100+ it saves me over the train, I'll be taking BoltBus from now on. The wifi's a bit limited--videos choke it off pretty well--and there's not an AC outlet at every seat, but it's possible to surf around and there are enough outlets for everyone on the bus, even if there's not one right at your seat.

Once we got there, 3B loved playing with his uncles...right up until his aunt arrived. (Full disclosure, these aren't blood uncles and aunts--the uncles are my best friends from childhood, and the aunt married into our "family.") Aunt A captivates 3B in a way that the three of us guys just couldn't seem to do...until he found out that we knew how to put Dora and SpongeBob on the TV.

Even though it meant he got to spend the night with Aunt A watching him (sleep), 3B was none too happy that I was heading out to see Iron Man 2 after he went to sleep. Eventually, however, he did collapse, and we headed out. Although we were superearly for the 12:01 a.m. showing, we were still stuck in the back corner of the theater. However, our location didn't diminish from the experience--especially since there were 237 speakers in the theater...all turned up to deafening levels. And, if you want to know how the movie was, my feelings are summed up in this review.

After that it was a weekend hanging with the boys, and hanging with the boys was better than any movie could be. However, staying up late is overrated when there's a 3-year-old in the house who wakes at 7 a.m. every day. The Museum of Natural History was good even if I had to carry a 44-pound boy through it--OK, "good" doesn't really approach how overwhelming the museum is. Mind-blowing and overwhelming come closer.

And I didn't carry 3B through the whole thing. There was the spiral ramp showing the history of the universe that he escaped up, sprinting away from all three of us boys, only to be thwarted by a closed door at the top. A nice lady let us in so we could hear Maya Angelou narrate the big bang, then walk back down the ramp, seeing what the universe was like without stars through to the present day.

I wasn't sure how much of it 3B was getting, but two days later, he did a pretty good job of explaining it all to Mama, so it's in there somewhere.

Then Uncle D had to leave to cover as an emergency replacement stage manager during tech week for a friend whose father is dying of cancer and took a sudden turn for the worse. Uncle FunkDaddie and I walked 3B out to the Cloisters--Uncle D lives in Washington Heights--which were much cooler than I thought they'd be.

In fact, I had no idea what they would be. The closest I'd ever gotten was walking Barky out through Fort Tryon park to a nice fenced dog park, which was lacking in religious imagery, artifacts and antique tapestries for some reason. For those of you with kids, fair warning that nothing in the Cloisters can be touched--with the exception of the floor--including fountains, columns, walls, etc.

3B survived, although he did hurl curses at a security guard who warned him against touching a 900-year old fountain. On the upside, it's close to two excellent playgrounds, and surrounded by a park with great paths to run on and that was the scene of battles...if you're into that kind of thing, which one of us was.

Any other questions?

I'm working to make cancer history. Will you help me?

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Tuesday, May 11, 2010

Facing cancer together

You can put a picture of your face on my chest...or my back...or across my belly...if you support my ride against cancer.

I'll place a picture of someone you know who's been affected by cancer on the jersey I'll wear during my ride if you donate $100 or more. But wait...there's more: you can send a picture and get a jersey of your own if you donate $500 or more.

But you have to hurry, this offer expires on May 31.

Seriously--I have to submit my order on June 1, so all donations and photos must be in my possession by the end of the day May 31.

My logically insane cousin, who's a designer, has generously contributed her skills and is designing a custom jersey for me to wear in my ride. The jersey will be created by a custom bike jersey company using the same dye sublimation technique used to make the jerseys that bike racers wear.

So, the picture you place on my chest--or on yours, if you donate $500 or more--will be there for all to see for years to come.

I've never felt that I'm riding alone--I carry with me the memories of all my family and friends affected by and sometimes lost to cancer. I'd like to be able to show all of you to my fellow riders as well.

Please join me on my ride, or send a friend or loved one along with me--donate today.

(If you have already donated $100 or more, I'll contact you directly to get a photo.)

I'm working to make cancer history. Will you help me?

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Sunday, May 09, 2010

What I got

Got up.
Got a movie on the computer for 3B.
Got cereal for 3B and myself and yogurt drink for him and water for me.
Got coffee.
Got our dirty laundry into a bag and got that into our suitcase.
Got the snack bag and our carry on together.
Got 3B dressed.
Got the sheets off of our bed.
Got our bed folded back into a couch.
Got the garbage cans emptied.
Got dressed.
Got a few emails answered while 3B and Uncle FunkDaddie watched SpongeBob on the couch.
Got our bags all zipped up.
Got out the door and into the elevator.
Got downstairs and out onto the street.
Got through the wind and up the hill.
Got past the playground without 3B noticing and down into the subway.
Got the A train and the 1 train down to 34th street.
Got to the bus stop early.
Got some breakfast treats at the cafe.
Got our bags on the bus.
Got on the bus.
Got seats.
Got some movies on the computer for 3B.
Got some snacks for 3B.
Got off at a service center.
Got back on.
Got going again.
Got to Union Station.
Got to see Mama and Jewel.
Got in the car.
Got home.
Got all the bags and kids out of the car.
Got in the door and up the elevator.
Got down the hall and into our place.
Got to hold Jewel.
Got tired.
Got Mama's Mothers Day present and card out.
Got 3B to give them to her.
Got into it with 3B.
Got kicked in the nuts.
Got out of hand.
Got it together again.
Got a backache and more tired.
Got help from Mama.
Got to go to bed.

But what I've really got is...

I'm working to make cancer history. Will you help me?

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Saturday, May 08, 2010

A 1st that make you reach for a 5th

It's raining, I haven't showered in two days, and our daughter has her first ear infection and is teething. Happy Mother's Day Eve, right?

The rain isn't helping 3B, who really needs to get out and run around a playground, although he is enjoying watching cartoons with his Uncles D and FunkDaddie and D's two kitties...when they're not poaching his food from the coffee table.

No idea what the weather is like back home, where Mama and Jewel are, although I'm pretty sure the atmosphere is less gloomy than yesterday when, after being up until midnight-thirty babysitting our neighbor's two-year-old daughter while Jewel slept on her chest, Mama called to report the Jewel was listless, hardly smiling or eating, had a low-grade fever and gagged while eating during the night before.

A trip to the doctor revealed the ear infection that Mama and I suspected and confirmed as well as her tooth status. Mama was ahead of me remembering that the last time Jewel cut teeth it seemed like she had a cold, the flu or a raging case of the snots.

This time, however, she wasn't congested at least not up front, although there must have been some congestion for her to develop an ear infection. Interesting that she still got an infection even though she's moved from sweeping swaddled in our bed to unswaddled in her Pack N Play, mostly on her belly, in the last two weeks.

It was an easy transition, although she does still resist sleep for the first 15 minutes or so that she's in there. By the way, babies, what's up with that? I guess you're not the ones who are sleep deprived, but resisting sleep...that's as foreign a concept to me as resisting ice cream. Judging by our recent trip to the ice cream shop, however, Jewel already follows my thinking about frozen fat and sugar, so one hopes that she'll come around about sleep.

In the meantime, I guess I'll be glad that she's at least sleeping on her side, or with her head turned to the side, so only one ear was infected. Had she been swaddled on her back, the drainage could have gone back into both ears. The number of infections doesn't change anything for Mama and me in our treatment, but I'm glad for anything that ameliorates any of Jewel's discomfort.

As for me, I think I'm going to go hop in the shower to ameliorate some of this funk I've been developing over the last few days, running through playgrounds, subway trains and the Museum of Natural History with 3B and the Uncles.

I'm working to make cancer history. Will you help me?

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Thursday, May 06, 2010

Have a nice time...sleeping on the couch

I'm writing to you from the front seat of a BoltBus headed up I95 to NYC, with 3B asleep on my lap. This means that I'm typing with my right arm hooked over his head like the St. Louis arch. Let's see how long my rotator cuff lasts.

Although he didn't want to go while we were separating from Mama and Jewel, 3B is now excited to get to the Big, Big City, which is what we call NYC, after a Curious George story that takes place there. As his vocabulary expands, we'll introduce him to other names for it...Big Apple, City That Never Sleeps, Den of Iniquity.

Speaking of Mama and Jewel, they're kicking off their weekend alone together by babysitting our neighbor's daughter while she goes off to celebrate her birthday. Not exactly how I envisioned the weekend going for them, but whattya gonna do?

When I was setting up this weekend with Uncles D and FunkDaddie, I asked Mama if she wanted to come along. She said nice things about being with us and the family being together and so forth and left it up to me.

I reminded her that it was a trip to hang with my childhood buddies, which means we'll likely rehash every moment of 9th grade until the wee hours of the morning, and see Iron Man 2. After that, we're planning to fulfill Uncle FunkDaddie's childhood aspirations and go to the Natural History Museum to see dinosaurs, elephants, and so forth.

Her reply: Have a nice time.

Unfortunately, even after checking my work calendar, 3B's school calendar, our family calendar, Mama's calendar and the Mayan calendar (to ensure we got this in before the end of time), I still managed to schedule this for Mother's Day weekend, which means that Mama will be without us for 75% of her day.

Her reply: No, no, that's fine. You go and have a good time.

...And anybody who's had a mother knows what that means. Although our couch is comfortable, I welcome any of your suggestions to make this up to Mama that I can deliver on before we return.

I'm working to make cancer history. Will you help me?

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Wednesday, May 05, 2010

I'm not Gwyneth Paltrow

A colleague who lurks on my blog asked recently how I got into the Iron Man 2 opening in NYC, wondering if I was secretly Gwyneth Paltrow. Obviously she's never seen a photo of me. Or Gwyneth's facial hair is really getting out of hand.

But 3B might be Gwyneth. Over the weekend, we went down to Olde Towne for a picnic and a walk around a tall ship that was moored there. The ship was beautiful, with mahogany woodwork and delicate stained glass windows throughout. It gave Mama a chance to flash back on the summer she spent sailing on a tall ship down the Eastern Seaboard to NYC, and me a chance to confuse 3B by teaching him that left is really port and right is really starboard.

After that, we had to go for ice cream, of course. As Mama stood in line, I sat at the table with 3B and Jewel, who anxiously awaited her upcoming treat--my cone. Meanwhile, 3B busied himself making faces in the mirror. After awhile I heard him ask, Who's that cute girl?

I was a bit mystified, since he wasn't looking at Jewel and there were no other girls I could see in the shop. So, I asked, Who is the cute girl? He looked straight at himself and said, I am.

Oh. Of course you are.

Sometimes things are simple like that. Iron Man 2 in NYC is simple like that, except it's a little more complicated. 3B and I are heading up on BoltBus on Thursday, so we'll have time to play with Uncle FunkDaddie as well as Uncle D, Aunt A and their new kitty cats, eat some dinner and get to bed in their new place--so many changes to absorb.

After 3B's asleep, I'm going to sneak out with Uncles FunkDaddie and D--my best friends from childhood--to see the midnight showing of IM2. That way, Aunt A, who is leaving early Friday morning, will be available to watch 3B...which will involve little more than ensuring he stays asleep.

So, it's not really a premiere. There's no red carpet. And I'm not Gwyneth Paltrow. It's just the first showing in the city that never sleeps.

I'm working to make cancer history. Will you help me?

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Tuesday, May 04, 2010

Get up, stand up

If you're going to sleep this late, you're going to miss a few minidramas.
And, it turns out, that if you're going to live a life with two kids, you're going to miss a few updates on their progress. I'm not sure where I left off with Jewel, but she's developed a few new tricks recently including
  • Sitting up...she's been doing this for weeks now, so it's really not news anymore, unless you get your news from my blog, where I've neglected to mention it at all.
  • Standing up...she pulls herself up on anything she can. Failing that, she'll pull down whatever she was pulling herself up to. She's all about everything being on the same level.
  • Jumping up...she loves to jump in her exersaucer...right up until she hates it and cries to be released.
  • Crawling around...this is still a work in progress. So far, she's getting up on all fours from almost any position--lying, sitting, standing--but then the only gear she's got working is reverse. It's a bit sad to hear her plaintive cry as she backs farther away from whatever she's trying to reach. I suppose we could relieve that sadness by moving her toward it, but then how would she ever learn to crawl forward, right?
All this motion has led to a few tumble-related minidramas, but she mostly gets through these with a smile despite her increasing preference for expressing her desires by whine-crying.

We're hoping that she notices that this only evokes polite laughter from Mama and me...soon. Like, before it evokes gritted teeth.

I'm working to make cancer history. Will you help me?

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Monday, May 03, 2010

Monday morning commute: road rash and asshats

Runners, joggers and perambulators: I'm a cyclist, not a psychic. Also, I'm traveling at about 16 mph and this is a trail, not a slalom course. The laws of physics being what they are, and my lack of psychic ability being what it is, if you weave around like an 18-year-old frat boy on Bourbon Street or jump from side to side like a rabbit on Ritalin, don't be surprised to find a bike tire in your backside.

Bikers in your nice team kits and on your fine bikes: even though I passed you handily, which appeared to disgruntle you (full disclosure: I also wear team jerseys, but not, you know, the whole ensemble), when you see me sprawled out on the trail, obviously having fallen and slid five or six feet on my side while trying to take a corner too fast, the appropriate response is not to blow by me, but to stop and ask if I'm OK, you asshats.