Category: lil’ chino

the coming spawn

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our white day

Trip to the snow.Tuesday and I took the day off (or something…) to take Keaton to the snow with her friend Matthew.

Matthew’s dad arrived shortly before 9am and we set off to the local “waffle” prefixed breakfast joint (y’know, the ones with the cat-head biscuits).  Ordered me a meat++ omelet ripe with fatty jalapenos and cheese and all kinds of sausages that had all kinds of different names.  Whomped that on down in sequential bites comprised of equal parts omelet and “homestyle” potatos.  Keaton and Matthew split a ham and eggs plate, and left their hasbrowns untouched (blasphemers).

We were on the road up the hill just after 10am.  Up a winding mountain road, we found the perfect patch of as-yet untouched-by-humans snow just before noon (had to stop for a couple kiddie potty breaks and to separate the car seats to prevent hair pulling and ear-poking).

The snow sat in thick drifts, but the sun was out and the weather was don’t-need-a-jacket warm.  Kevin (Matthew’s dad) and I ventured out into the snowfield first to see how deep it was.  My first steps and I was in to the knee.  Laboring, step-aerobics style, I lifted my foot to take another – and ended up just as deep.  We test-dropped Matthew onto the surface: guess being 15% of my weight is an advantage in deep snow – he and Keaton just dropped in a couple (manageable, as far as locomotion is concerned) inches.

Keaton whined for me to carry her for the first five minutes (that child is, through and through, one-thousand percent girl, being innately scared of everything).  After some time though, she was tromping off faster than knee-deep Daddy could follow along – quite independent.  Before long she was eating snow and peppering me with the balled-up stuff, like any good kid in the snow should their dad.

We dug holes; we built a sorry, sorry snowman (the snow wasn’t wet enough to hold shape); we pushed the kids once or twice in the saucer-sleds before they let us know they hated that; we ate white snow like ice cream; we had adult races to see who could move the quickest with each foot sunk in snow (I lost, face-down freezing-hands style).

For me, it was a Dad’s day with his daughter – and I loved it more than words can tell you about.  Here are a couple pictures, maybe they will help explain:

Gosh, those weren’t that good at all; and I look straight bald in one of them.  But, that’s it.

I didn’t even intend to write, but I had this in my head and the new Animal Collective album played loud (Sharaun’s out, Keaton’s asleep, and it’s my roost to rule for the time being) shook it loose onto the internet.

Love you, goodnight.

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like a big girl

Working on being strong.I guess it feels like dinner is so late because I’ve been home from work since around 3 o’clock today.

Yeah, I managed to sneak out and dial-in from the couch for the last couple hours (the boss was out the door just in front of me, and no doubt those who work for me continued the domino).  So, even though it’s only 7 o’clock now, the smell of the roast Sharaun’s got in the crock pot is making me feel like I’ve not eaten in days.  (Trust me, that’s not true at all… just today at lunch I had a burrito that I’m still surprised fit entirely into my insides.)

I gave up on TV hours earlier, switching on the holiday music channel on the satellite instead (I don’t have XM anymore, as I downgraded my TV package to the most basic levels allowed in some strange media protest slash money-saving scheme).  I took the time as an oppotunity to read the new Newsweek that came today… but sometimes news just ain’t where it’s at.  So, bored with that, I instead had a tickle-fight with Keaton.  That can always make a guy smile.

Lately, Keaton’s been coming into our room partway through the night and trying to get into bed with us.  Most times she’s successful, as either Sharaun or I will hoist her up by her armpits and nestle her in between us.  Some times, however, she doesn’t manage to wake either of us.  In these instances, she doesn’t simply give up and return to the comfort of her own bed… she just makes her own little bed right there on the floor next to ours.  No blankets; no pillow; no nothing.

In the middle of the night last week I woke up to find one of Keaton’s baby dolls next to me in bed.  Thinking it odd, and not remembering a baby doll in bed with me at the beginning of the night, I decided to think about it a bit.  “How on earth did Phoenix get here in bed with me?,” I pondered.  I sat up to get my brain working a bit better, and happened to look down.  There, huddled in on herself in a fetal position, was Keaton.  Sleeping on the carpet about two feet below me.

I got out of bed and scooped her up, rousing her a bit.  “Keaton, how long have you been here?,” I asked her, sliding her cold little body under the comforter in our bed.  She mumbled something, but not an answer.  Then, as I took my place next to her, she lifted her head and asked me in her little sleepy voice, “But Dad, did you feel me touch your arm?”  “No baby, no I didn’t.”  Awwww man, I felt bad: Here she had tried to wake me, wanting to join us in our bed, and I hadn’t responded.  So, like a faithful dog, she simply curled up as close next to me as she could.  (Is it wrong to compare your daughter to a dog?)

Anyway, I felt bad.  But, I know that, in the long run, we have stop letting her into bed with us.  I have to admit it’s hard to do, I really like knowing she’s there next to me – sometimes she even puts her little hand on my arm or shoulder, or cuddles her head up to my face.   Alas, as much as I like her being there with us – I don’t want it to become an every night thing.  So, Sharaun and I agreed this morning to take a harder line next time she toddles in clutching Laka or Claudia or Emilia… time to go back to your own bed, like a big girl.

Wish us luck.  Goodnight.

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tumbleweeds and me

Work is slow.Cold and rainy where we make our home this week; snow just a few hundred feet higher up the hill.

Saturday I forced Sharaun to be complicit in one of my cleaning/organizing jags, and we tore through dusty closet shelves, cluttered and overspilling bedside drawers, and under-bed catacombs.  And, after shifting storage locations for an innumerable amount of useless junk, we managed to actually rid ourselves of a good bit and better hide the rest.  Sunday night I made hot cocoa and we rented a movie.

Keaton awoke that day from her nap and was burning up, carried a fever throughout the night.  She was running hot off and on all Monday, but we keep it down by dosing her with Motrin.  Even when that girl’s got a high fever, she’s bright and bubbly – the day she ever gets really sacked by a cold is the day I’ll be worried.

You know… I’ve never had much need for country music, but if you read here with an regularity you likely remember me softening quite a bit on that position over the last half of this year.  Think of it as a “country awakening” or something; my personal realization that almost no genre or style of music is, in a wholesale sense, “bad.”  Well, I suppose there are exceptions – death metal being the one coming to mind.

Anyway… as the year turns colder and greyer, and the doldrums I’ve been navigating at work persist daily – I’ve decided that some good, solid country crying music suits my mood quite well.  Explains my recent wont for the earlier works of Waylon, Willie, Merle, and the like.  Some of these whiskey-soaked ballads just “click” during downtimes like these… guess country is good for something after all, eh?

The aisles at work are already showing early signs of Christmas evacuation, even ten days out.  It’ll only get worse (or better, depending) as this week works its way into the short one following.  I like it, actually, because it affords me an opportunity to get some work done without interruption.  And, being honest, it also makes for a great “sneaking out early” environment.

When it’s just the tumbleweeds and me holding down the sawmill, I don’t feel as guilty about heading for the homestead to finish the day remotely from the couch and spend some time with Sharaun and Keaton.  A wise manager once told me not to “waste” vacation time on Christmas, advising that most of our customers and we too effectively “shut down” around the holidays – making for some great “short days.”  Since we usually head south for Christmas, this’ll be the first year I’ll actually get to try that advice.  I so desperately need some “don’t care” time, I pray the advice is sound.

Until tomorrow then, wish me luck at shirking work, K?  Goodnight.

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just me, huh?

And, a week later...

Thursday night: Comes before Friday; comes before the weekend; comes after too much week beforehand more often than not.

Finally got our Christmas tree done tonight; no more boxes littering the living room, no more half-strung lights, no more furniture where it shouldn’t be.  I actually managed to put back in the garage most of the stuff I took down out of the garage last weekend, which leaves the place looking  semi put-together, as far as Christmas spirit goes.  Keaton helped with the ornaments, and actually did a great job… check the tree there to the right there.

I’m getting really excited now for a “family” Christmas and, with my folks coming into town next weekend, it’s not too far off now.  It’s hard for me to believe that another year has gone by… and we’re still here, happily hoeing our row.  Well, maybe when it comes to the row-hoeing, my mind drifts a bit more lately… but I suppose that’s something normal.  Right?  I mean… you guys sometimes think about dropping everything you know to go run a diner on 66 somewhere, right?  No?  Just me, huh?

Lastly, I upgraded to WordPress v2.7 today – and really like the new backend.  So far I haven’t noticed anything broken on the frontend, where you’d see it – but do let me know if you find something amiss with your sounds familiar experience.

Goodnight.

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that footworn path

Happy workweek-fifty, fellow serfs.

Were we not destined by our birth-caste to labor as we do, we might now be napping in an open field or floating in cool water.  Yet, here we are; running the race, pulling the millstone along that footworn path.

The weekend, at least, however, held promise – as our alma mater pushed forward to SEC victory and now awaits the national championship game next month.  So, that, in part, lifted my spirits.  But with the return to work tomorrow, my mind will no doubt once again return to those ten days in Florida…

And, speaking of Florida, I’ve a funny story to relate now that it’s fresh on the mind.

While there staying with Sharaun’s folks, Keaton shared a bedroom with us, sleeping on a neat little “pop-up” cot thing on the floor.  And, even though we worried she wouldn’t sleep well with us in the room (I snore, after all), it turned out to be no problem at all.  In fact, I ended up liking it a lot – feeling somehow “closer” to her being able to sit up slightly and watch her sleep; having her climb into our bed occasionally (although I don’t think I’d like her having the option at will).  Also, it was just a good feeling to have the whole “family” packaged together in a single living space… you know me and my pioneer fantasies… maybe I likened it to some imagined one-room homestead.

Also by virtue of our vacation cosleeping arrangements, we learned that Keaton suffers from more than just one of Daddy’s nighttime eccentricities.  See, just like Dad, it seems she’s also taken to talking in her sleep.  Yup, sure enough we heard her chattering away some dreamy nonsense almost every single night.  Since I’m not a very light sleeper, I only managed to hear the loudest and clearest of these episodes, but Sharaun assured me she did it pretty regularly even when I didn’t catch it.

Of what I did hear though, the following exchange made me realize even more how much of her Dad’s daughter my little angel really is.  Check it:

Mmmm… grrrmmphh… No… I need to cook the pizza rolls…

Errrmmm… sssss…. I need to cook the pizza rolls!!

Gaaaaahh… Hey… where are my pizza rolls?…. ffffmmmm….

Clear as a bell my little baby was talking out-lout during her dream of, what I assume, was pizza rolls.  For those who know how beholden I am to the Godsend that is pizza rolls this should bring a smile.  The sleep-funk, the sleep-babbling, and apparently a great taste in bad-for-you finger foods: all things the good Lord has allowed to pass from my to her.  Poor girl.

No apologies for my rigor of writing this week, I’m gonna do what feels right and that’s what I’ll do.  Goodnight, and I hope we get to do this again soon.

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spurned by santa

The molasses pace of this week and a half is more than I could ask for.  Every day I wake up thinking it’s a day later than it really is, and am pleasantly surprised when I realize the error.  So, when today was Monday as I rose, and I realized we’re down to our last two days – it was something of bummer.  But, let’s move on from all the talk of vacation-end and get on to some talk of vacation-happenings.

The other night we took a short walk down to the city park near Sharaun’s folks’ place.  It’s located smack in the middle of the historic shopping district here, and the city has done considerable work over the past ten years or so really shaping the place up.  In fact, it looks really good down there – and the crowds drawn to the park, temporary ice-skating rink (yes, in Florida), shops and food seem to show that the work has paid off.  We’ve walked the short mile or so down there a couple times already this trip, and each time have really enjoyed letting Keaton run around in the park and strolling the shoplined avenues.

This particular night, however, we were there right before dinner and the light was beginning to dwindle.  As we played in the park, we began to notice a man setting up lights around a sleigh sitting central to the goings-on.  Sure enough, Mr. Claus himself showed up for pictures with kiddies just as we were getting ready to make the walk back home.  When Keaton saw him, she absolutely lit up.  She looked at me, looked at mom, looked back to Santa – and just stood there struck like a stone, mouth open and wide-eyed.  I finally said to her, “Do you want to go say ‘hi’ to Santa?”  “Yeah!,” she squealed as she tore off in his direction.

There were several kids flocked around Santa, and she sort of sidled up alongside them in the back row and just stared up at him in awe.  Eventually, the throng thinned and she had a clear shot at him.  She stared right up and him and said, “Hi Santa!”  Only, she said it sort of smallish and demurely, since that’s just how our girl is.  Unfortunately, Santa did not hear her salutation, and instead turned his back to her to talk to some other kids.  At that, Keaton waited there a minute, wringing her hands, and the walked back to me with the sorriest, saddest look on her face I’ve ever seen.  When she got to me, she said, “He didn’t answer me,” in the most forlorn little voice.

I was absolutely heartbroken; felt crushed right along with her.

Trying quick to recover, Sharaun and I both said something along the lines of, “It’s OK baby, he just didn’t hear you that time.  Go on back over and say ‘hello’ to him a little louder this time so he can hear, OK?”  With a little prodding, she walked slowly back over and found another opening for some one-on-one time.  This time, Santa saw her first and stooped to speak to her.  As he did, she was excited, but I could still see the reluctance in her eyes from his initial spurning.  When she came back, she was a lot happier, but I could tell she still had some misgivings about this Santa guy.

Later that night, as I was putting her to sleep I asked her, “Wasn’t it fun meeting Santa today?”  “Yeah,” she said, and her voice turned frost cold and sad, “But… he didn’t answer the first time.”  I about bust out into tears right then and there.  Poor girl.

Sorry for the sob story… I promise it’s not indicative of the week.  In fact, we’ve had a fantastic time – and I suppose I should’ve chosen to relate a funny story instead, but that one stuck with me as something that might “blog” well.

For now, I’m outta here.  Holler at you guys later, OK?

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odd thing to be self conscious about

Hey Tuesday… how are you doing?  Me, I’m OK.

We totally turned on the heat today when we got home from Oregon – first time this year.  Was 64° in the house when we got home and I couldn’t handle it.  Especially since I had made up my mind that I’d be phoning in the afternoon shift at the sawmill from the couch rather than stick to my original plan of making my way into the office after our flight.  A guy’s entitled to change his mind, I do say.

Anyway, heat or on off, this house smells downright shut-up musty.  It’s like that not-quite-nasty but not fresh-cut roses smell that the closet sometimes takes on when the dirty clothes hamper has gone a little too long without attention.  Somehow, having the place shut up with no air circulating for just a few days spread a subtle funk not unlike that overfull hamper scent all around the house.  It’s really bugging me right now… and it nearly ruined my 5pm “just punched the clock” one-hour nap.  We gotta open some windows up in this mug.

Tonight we went up to the Wal Mart to pickup some sundries we’ve been out of while we’ve been traveling individually and together the past couple weeks.  Of course, because of the time change, when we left the house around 6pm it was pitch-black outside, like the dead of night.  For some reason, I feel like a bad person wheeling our two-and-a-half year old into a Wal Mart under the curtain of night.  Something about a toddler riding in a shopping cart at America’s biggest discount retailer while the color of the sky (rightfully or not) deems the young should be fast asleep in bed.  An odd thing to be self conscious about, no?

For a while now, a couple friends of mine have been urging me to read the book Into the Wild. With admonitions akin to, “Dave, you’d love that book man – this guy was a true modern-day tramp, outdoorsman, a real Kerouac kindred-spirit.”  Well, last night Sharaun happened on the DVD of the movie-adaptation at my folks’ place.  Since she’d been wanting to see it for a while, we popped it in and settled back for the flick. Now, first off – I truly enjoyed the movie.  Second, holy crap what a sad ending.  I mean, at the end of that movie I felt drained… Not like Schindler’s List sad, but sad nonetheless.  As we climbed into bed, I told Sharaun I felt like scooping Keaton out of her little closet-room and hugging her tight.  Sad sad sad.

OK then, that’s a night for me.  Love ya, until later.