Jack's Christmas Recital

Recital. Show. It's Jack. He's singing. With his best bud Blake.

In the Spirit of Hugging

I'm hugging an appliance. Now, my baby's catching the fever, too.

I don't mind doing dishes. Dishes themselves aren't so bad. I think almost half the work in getting dishes into the dishwasher (at least our old one) is the amount of work it would take to get a dish clean just with soap, water, and a scrubbing pad. I know now, I hate drying.

Drying is a pain in the neck. You end up with a soggy dish towel or a heap of paper towels. The water runs all over the counter and while the drying is occurring, it takes up valuable counter space.

This week we finally had the time to get the appliance repairman out. He announced the damage for getting it fixed; and there would still be a leak on the left side that would also need repair -- we nixed the dishwasher.

The new dishwasher runs without leaking. I'm really proud of that because I installed the new dishwasher (which was super easy). The old dishwashers are happy they only have to put dishes in the machine, and the broken dishwasher is in the garage -- waiting to get hauled out to the curb for someone else to scrap.

Polaroid

"There's a camera, that will print pictures automatically!" exclaimed Madeline.

"I think I have one those", I thought. I bought one a long time ago, before I had a digital camera that takes a million pictures at the cost of electrons on the battery.

I ran upstairs and combed through old boxes with older pictures. There it is -- the old Polaroid auto-focus, and with a "Made in England" stamp. What's this England? Aren't they the United Kingdom?

Sure enough, I can push the button and those Englander's or UK'ers have made some equpiment that still works 11 years later. The telltale "uunnnnnn-yahhhh" sound comes from the camera. Gray. Nothing. The film is out.

"But I really want to see what it looks like, Daddy!" Madeline tells me.

So begins the Quixotic quest to find Polaroid film. They are out of business -- in case you didn't know. Oh well. Kodak seems to be following closely behind them.

After looking on-line and coming to several dead ends, the Impossible Project finally had what I wanted.

Madeline was excited. "Can I take the next picture Daddy?" Of course you can, baby! (but just remember it's $3.00 a picture . . . ).

Brushing teeth Starts with "EN-Oh"

"Baby starts with Popsicle!" Jack screams and invites a parent to tickle him, almost begging to be tickled.

"Baby starts with 'B!'" a parent exclaims and throws the boy on the bed, while he is gleefully laughing hysterically.

Jack loves to spell. He loves it. "Mommy, what does Polaroid start with?" Jack will ask. "Polaroid starts with a 'pee'", sounding it out, "and 'pee' starts with a 'pee.'"

"I'nna say that," Jack replies.

"OK, Jack, what does Polaroid start with?" Mommy asks.

"Polaroid starts with a 'PEE'", Jack replies.

But not now -- Jack intentionally says words start with other words (obviously impossible), because he thinks it's funny.

The other night Dad said to Jack -- "Jack, it's time to brush your teeth."

"Brushing teeth starts with 'EN-OH'", replies Jack, clearly spelling "NO."

(Did he really know what he spelled there? I glanced a look at my son's mother)

Jack's mom was too busy laughing hysterically. And what else can you do? when the boy is jumping on the bed and screaming, "Baby starts with Popsicle!!!!!?"

All you can do is pin him down -- and tickle him until he laughs.

still under < 1000 %

or a buck short; someone that sees through the master plan.

I had a great Father's Day. It started the day before. I was not allowed to go downstairs. Allowed in the sense, "I'm paying for all this stuff," kind of of "allowed." This is a state of love and trust.

On Father's day at almost 7:10AM I heard the clinking of ceramic plates on each other. "Don't worry," I thought -- even though the girls' capacity for messiness grows logarithmically with their age, it'll be OK.

Sure enough, waiting for Mom and Dad in the way downstairs was a delicious helping of eggs and cheerios. Even the milk was laid out. Around the room were posters (8.5" x 11.0" paper) parameters saying "Dads' HDD (aka Happy Dad's Day)".

Happy Father's Day, Mike. -- it's all your fault.

got a few new things this weekend

I got a couple new things this weekend. I got some new shorts that aren't linen, therefore don't wrinkle after wearing them for two seconds. I got a GPS from the home team here in Olathe, KS at Costco, it's the nüvi 1390 with unlimited maps. I also got a new mini-van.

Oh yeah, you read that right, after months of searching and literally years of thinking about it, I've got some new wheels. It's a 2010, Chrysler Town and Country, still has 20,000 miles/two years on the factory warranty. We wanted three row seating the most, something with space for three kids and their friends. Now I've got four cars. I feel sorry for my neighbors, I'm kind of worried they might show up with a petition.

Not to worry, I need to fix a few things on the Hyundai, then sell that car, save the money, and start saving again to replace the next car, looking to fix up a Traverse, Acadia, one of those bigger crossover vehicles with all wheel drive next.

This weekend we took the new wheels out for a ride and and visited the Day out with Thomas fair in Baldwin City. We used the GPS to get there and I wore my new shorts.

Who knows what I might get next week. I've got a dentist appointment tomorrow morning . . . maybe I'll get a new grill.

Southside rebuilders

one of you are going to be mine. How'd you like to be the guy that drove a new car 1,169 miles and then got in a head on collision?

real gangsta

Real gansta's don't have to flex nuts. They grow 'em . . .

although not really the nuts like peanuts (which is a vegetable -- not a real nut that grows on a tree), here's my garden with coriander, cucumbers, tomatoes, peppers, and basil, chicken wire -- grows great sells at farmer's market, and wood.

Birds suck

We're watching Blue's Clues on Netflix, now. Jack is pretty interested. I like this more than Dora. Dora always yells, "GREAT!" at me.

About a week ago, we had some killer hail. My car was outside, my truck was outside. Lots of dimples on those two vehicles. One of Madeline's friend's Mom had $6,500 in damage to her car. Two of the "blinds" in Terra's bedroom were knocked out by the hail.

Terra's room is upstairs. It used to be the laundry room. That's awesome in a four bedroom house with one kid at home, less awesome with three kids. That room's laundry hookups were converted ages ago. We moved the laundry downstairs to the basement and disconnected the upstairs ages ago.

The vent stayed outside, obviously. Two of the blinds were knocked out, like I said, which is just enough room for two birds to creep their ugly corpses in.

Sunday, Mom vacuumed the house and closed the door to Terra's room. Jack and Madeline don't need to be in there. Jack grabs stuff he probably shouldn't. Wednesday, Terra comes over for the night.

We went to PTO night at Sonic that Wednesday, and we tipped the server. (Misty and I ate at home, this was for the girls and boy).

The girls rode the razor on the sidewalk with their friends later that night. Jack started to ride his two wheeler, and was going really fast, enough that I had to stand him down and stop him from going speedily down the sidewalk. His favorite is turning around.

Later, it was time for Terra to go back to her Mother's house, and she went to her room to get some clothes. "Daaaaaaad! There's a dead bird in my room."

"What the . . . ", I thought. I couldn't believe it. I went up the stairs and entered the room.

Sure enough. There it was. OMG. A dead bird, in my girl's room.

Black with white spots, there it was. I picked it up and bit the head off.

Just kidding. I picked it up with a plastic bag and another plastic bag, then put it in another plastic bag and tied that off so it was air tight. The trash men are coming tomorrow, after all.

"We just got a letter, wonder who's it from?" way to go Steve -- I'm glad you and Blue's Clues , you're so much better than Dora, I love it that you don't yell at me.

Sure enough, there's a dead bird in the room. I can't believe I didn't stop and think of that. Terra's closet has a hole that goes outside for a dryer vent. The dryer vent had two blinds broken, more than enough room for a silly bird to push through.

Then the bird spent at least a day trying to get out. Bird poop is all over the window. "Dad, what's the circles on my dresser?!" Uhh, baby, the circles are bird poop. So is the white circles all along the window that looks like an army with dysentery stopped by.

The room is empty now. "BAM" is the best. I couldn't get the circles off the dresser, the carpet, the bed, or the window sill without that stuff.

I didn't take any pictures. We ate outside for dinner tonight. Every bird that I saw flying through our yard, and perching its comfortable legs on my trees or bushes . . . . I wanted to get my 0.22 out and shoot the daylights out of it.

Jack's laughing hysterically about something Steve is doing. I'm laughing just because he is, way to go Blue's Clues. Dora . . . your days are numbered on Netflix, I feel.

Tale of Two Shots

We went to Terra's basketball game last weekend. They sell concessions at the high school. Jack and Madeline got their fair share of candy and sugar to start the game off right. Terra started the first quarter. Her team is playing man-on-man and she's doing great; for a while the concept that she is supposed to stay between her man and the goal didn't sink in quite right, but she's clearly doing it right now.

Madeline's minding Jack, who's running up and down the bleachers like crazy.

One fast break down the court, Terra's teammate was fouled while shooting a field goal -- two free throws. Moans and groans from the team, cheers from the parents and family in the bleachers. Everyone lines up to shoot the first free throw.

Terra's team mate gets the ball from the referee, the player takes two dribbles and lines up preparing to shoot, and the crowd quiets itself out of politeness.

The next thing heard was "I got to go poop, Dad!" very loudly from Jack.

Laughter all around. I was a little embarrassed. If he hadn't said, Dad, I would have asked Madeline to take him, but I volunteered. It was a long one. I got back in the second quarter, Terra from the side lines across the court mouths the excited words, "I made a shot!" Her first shot! I mouthed back, "I'm proud of you."

She played a great game, not just on defense. She hustled, didn't quite dive for a ball, but there's only one person in the league I've seen do that, she played her position, and had controlled dribbling. She didn't however score again Terra moped that I didn't see it -- so did I.

Fast forward to the evening and Madeline's basketball game. Madeline made a shot at the beginning of the year, but has since then she's been shy about shooting. Misty told her, "If you're under the basket -- shoot." She's usually taller than the girls guarding her, and she is stronger.

Her team was down 6 - 8, and came down the court on on offense, about halfway through the second half. One of her friends shoots the ball, misses the basket, but Madeline reaches up and makes the rebound -- then almost instantly shoots. I hear a slap on her forearm. She's been fouled while shooting, the whistle blows, and BAM, the basket goes in. The crow cheers, and so do I.

I look down and Terra's devastated. She can't believe I missed her shot.

Jack and Bob

Jack loves Spongebob. We have it on our iPods and Jack watches. He laughs and giggles, its incredibly cute. He's been singing the song. If you've never seen it, the last part is the guy singing "SpongBob Squarepants" while the character Spongebob dances on the letters spelling his name.

Jack and Mom went to pick up some clothes at the dry cleaner. While waiting for the cashier to register the items, Jack started laughing and giggling to himself, and asked Mom, "What's his name, Mom? What's his name?"

"I don't know Jack."

"What's his name Mom?" Jack giggles some more, insisting a little more.

"I don't know Jack," and Mom looks at the name tag, "Bob. It's bob."

Jack laughed again, giggling and say, "I know Mom. His name is Spongebob."