Category: lil’ chino

the coming spawn

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bye-bye diapers

Happy Thursday folks.

What a smoky steamy day here in Northern California.  110° and not two miles visibility through the choking haze as California continues to burn.  But, aside from that nastiness, it was a good day.  Got a lot of work done, took my lunch hour (or, y’know, hourish) and met Sharaun and Keaton up at the local “kids bounce” place (which was packed with moms and kids looking for an indoor playground removed from the smoky simmer outdoors).  I brought us some lunch, we ate, and we bounced.  Yeah, it was a happy day.

And, t’would be a good bit happier had the Senate yesterday not followed the House’s shameful FISA legistlation vote, continuing to trash our civil liberties while retroactively clearing anyone of blame.  What a joke; great job “nonbinding withdrawal timeline” Democratic Congress – you sure showed ’em.   Check this, fellow Obamaniacs:

I strongly oppose retroactive immunity in the FISA bill.

Ever since 9/11, this Administration has put forward a false choice between the liberties we cherish and the security we demand.

No one should get a free pass to violate the basic civil liberties of the American people – not the President of the United States, and not the telecommunications companies that fell in line with his warrantless surveillance program. We have to make clear the lines that cannot be crossed.

– Barack Obama, January 28, 2008

Fast-forward to yesterday and check the big fat “Yea” next to “Obama” for the free-pass retroactive immunity FISA legislation.  Did I say no one should get a free pass?  Oh… I meant no one shouldn’t get a free pass… my bad.  Did I say I strongly oppose retroactive immunity?  Oh… what I meant to say was that I strongly impose retroactive immunity… sorry.  Way to go; way to go.

That’s really all I’m going to say about it, for fear of not being able to see my readership from up on this soapbox.  Moving on…

It’s been two weeks since Keaton decided she would suddenly be potty-trained.  And, I’m happy to report that, during that time, we only had one off day.  Other than last Thursday, when we actually had to put her in a diaper because her brain seemingly forgot about her recent conversion, she’s not had a single accident.  I’m going to count that as twelve days.  We put her in “big girl underwear” now (Dad simply can’t bring himself to write, Heaven forbid say, the word “panties”) each morning, and she keeps them dry all day.  Not only has she proven herself to us, but to the workers at the nursery during Sharaun’s mom’s group and to a friend/babysitter last night.  I’m pumped.  Dunno when I can call it “permanent,” but I’m more confident thinking we’re almost there.  Bye-bye daipers!

Well, that’s it for tonight.  A mixed bag I’m afraid.  Hopefully it was somewhat readable.  Goodnight.

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heart=melt

Happy hot Wednesday, folks.

When the digital temperature readout in my car dips below thirty degrees Fahrenheit or so, it alternates between the outside temperature and flashing the word ICE! to let me that the conditions are right for slick and dangerous roads. Today when I drove home from work, however, it was alternating between 111° and SATAN! Really, it was that hot today here in smoky California. I had briefly considered going up into the attic after work to run a length of CAT5 cable to the new satellite receiver – but even at midnight it’d be like a blast furnace up there. So, yeah, it’s totally hot here.

Today (which was yesterday, as you’re reading this), Sharaun and I have been married for eight years.

Eight years ago today I was fiddling with my rented tuxedo behind closed doors at the back of a church I didn’t go to. My best friend and best man Jeremy was there with me, we were probably making coarse jokes. I can remember we’d walked through the motions and standing positions the day prior, and I shuffled out the side door to the front of the waiting crowd. Sharaun looked beautiful, and, as I often do at weddings, especially, it turns out, my own, I had to bite back tears watching her part the sea of onlookers walking towards me. I remember little of the vows, other than that they were simple and traditional, and that the whole thing was over in fifteen minutes or so. I do remember when our officiant asked the maid of honor for the ring, Sharaun instead reached into her cleavage to retrieve it – and the crowd let forth much mirth.

The reception is a blur, I barely remember it. I do recall taking my friends’ new daughter onto the dancefloor and shuffling around with her (I loved that girl to death).  I remember we had no booze at the fête, y’know, to keep The Lord happy (which conversely kept my highschool buddies quite unhappy, and was the reason for their early exit, I’m sure).  I remember the food being good, although probably ultimately unremarkable, and I remember hating every minute of dancing (I loathe dancing, I’m just not made for it).  And, finally, I remember driving off to spend our first night as a wedded couple in the airport at the hotel before we flew away for our honeymoon.  That’s it though, just a series of memories, mostly a blur.

I would’ve posted one of our wedding pictures as an accompaniment to this blog, but Sharaun has locked them away in a vault somewhere never to be seen by human eyes again.  Yes, she hates them that much.  So much even, that she’s, quite seriously, suggested we reshoot them now one time when we’re back in Florida.  Now, we’ll not be doing that – that much is sure – but you can see how much she hates them.

Tonight, on our way to drop Keaton off with Kerry so we could enjoy an anniversary dinner together, she said, “I wanna come with you dad!”  “No,” I said, “This is a special dinner for Mommy and Daddy.”  Sharaun chimed in with, “It’s Mommy and Daddy’s anniversary.”  (We’ve been telling her this for a few days.)  She replied, “I know!  Because Mommy and Daddy are married!”  And then, after a slight pause to think, “Daddy, I want to get married someday.”  (I’m not kidding, she totally said that!).  “Oh,” I said, curiously, “Who would you like to marry someday?”  “I want to marry my Daddy.”

Heart=melt.

Tell you what though, that day eight years ago was far and away the best decision I’ve ever made.

Goodnight.

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jailbreak!

Sunday afternoon ’round about four o’clock and Radiohead has shuffled up on the iPod.  I just got done doing dishes and wiping down the counters and kitchen table (an extended Dead jam provided the sonic backdrop whilst I Cinderella’d).  Sharaun’s out in the hammock sunning and Keaton’s asleep.  What better time to crack the top on a Hefeweizen and sit down on the couch to tome (yeah, I verbized it).

It was a busy weekend, and it felt extra long, I think because I flew in on Friday and went straight to socializing, I remember I couldn’t stop feeling like it was Saturday night as we sat and played Euchre.  Maybe that’s the trick: get your brain to think it’s the next day, and then you get a “bonus” day each weekend.  Don’t know how to reproduce it, though, aside from the fog of traveling – and I don’t like the tradeoff.  So I guess I’ll just settle for the standard two-day weekends I’ve come to know and cherish… as there really the only sanctioned escape we get, eh?  Right.  Moving on.

For this next paragraph, I’ll ask you to recall a blog from not that long ago, where I wrote right here on sounds familiar about my “fear” concerning Keaton eventually learning to baby-Houdini her way out of her Pack ‘N’ Play.  Do you indeed recall, my dear reader?  You guys even commented on it.  Well, some of you guys (gals, whatever).  Still no?  It’s OK, I’ll link the thing right here and you can go refresh yoself.  Yoself refreshed?  OK then.

Well, going back for a moment to that Friday night I kept thinking was Saturday earlier this weekend (remember, you just read it) – it happened.  Yup.  As I cast my memory back over the past couple evenings, lemme see if I can set the scene for y’all.  We had gathered with a small group of friends at one of their houses to play some cards and hang out, and Sharaun had just put Keaton down to bed in her Pack ‘N’ Play in one of their spare rooms.  It was a hard-fought bedtime to begin with, as our friends have two young kids as well and one big playroom which bulges with toys – each one of them new and exciting for Keaton, not to mention the chance to play with other kids.  But Sharaun put up a valiant fight, singing our little angel into droopy eyes and metered deep breathing, sneaking out the door with a the loud smack of an air-kiss and a “Goodnight Keaton.”

And, with her down and quiet, we broke out the cards and began the first hand.  Cards were dealt, the girls bid six diamonds, the guys, one by one around the table, passed.  Cards came out, tricks were taken, and a good time was being had by all.  Then, out of nowhere, I see a little crop of blonde hair bouncing up the two flights of stairs towards where we were seated.  “Hey mommy look I woke up!,” smiled our triumphant baby.  “How the…,” Sharaun and I asked, looking at each other.  And then it hit me: She figured out how to climb free of the confines of the Pack ‘N’ Play.  Horror of horrors: She’s mobile.  (Well, to be brutally honest, as a dad, I was actually a little proud that she’d managed to climb out – that she was big and strong enough and not too scared to do it, but don’t tell Sharaun that).

Sharaun was not happy, and she scooped up babygirl without even giving me a chance to give her a second goodnight kiss to transport her back to bed.  After another ten minutes or so, she returned, lamenting that Keaton still wasn’t “having it.”  And, another five minutes after that – as we’d barely gotten into our second hands – she came trotting up the stairs once again.  Our friends laughed, and I had to just a little too (and again, her having done it second time only made me more proud because she could reproduce the feat).  I asked her, “Keaton, how did you get out of your Pack ‘N’ Play?”  “Because I wanted to play,” she answered, mishearing or misunderstanding the question.  “Yes, I know you want to play, but it’s time to sleep now baby.  Did you climb out of your Pack ‘N’ Play?”  “Yeah,” she answered, unconcerned as to whether it was “sleep time” or not.

In the end, we put her down in the crib our friends had setup in another room in preparation for their coming third.  She finally ended up hitting the sack then, but it was lucky the crib was there.  Funny enough, the next night saw us out socializing again and I put her down in the Pack ‘N’ Play with nary an issue (OK, she fought me on the sleep thing just a bit, but what two-year old doesn’t?).  So, I think she just wanted us to know that she can get out – if she wants to.  Well played Keaton, well played.  Man I love that little girl.

Goodnight fevers and dreams, goodnight lovers.

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walk, cake, pack, sleep

Another day at work.

A friend from Shanghai was in town so we all went to lunch.  Last time I had a meal with him it was at an outside cafe in Bangalore, India.  This time we had Italian right here in town.  When we got back to the office, he came over to my desk and presented me with gifts for both Keaton and Sharaun.  The Chinese culture sure is a gift-giving one.  Keaton got this little bobble-type figurines, what look like grandparents, the woman with a fan and the man with a pipe.  Sharaun got a wine bag/cover thing, deep green faux silk with Chinese characters on it.  So thoughtful.

After dinner tonight Sharaun and I and Keaton took a family walk.  We hoofed our way over to the house of some friends of ours to check their garden while they’re away traveling.  And even though their wasn’t much of a harvest reaped, we did have a nice walk at least.  I like walking past the lines of homes in suburbia, I’ve always had a fascination with the little microcosms of other peoples’ lives that goes on inside them.  I walk past and look at things like how they keep their yard, what cars they drive, if their lights are on, and what I can scent as we pass by.  The guy with the six cars is doing laundry, I can smell his dryer exhaust; and someone at the house with brown-dead front lawn is grilling over charcoal out back.  The family at 703 just put down a new layer of mulch around the trees and planters, looks sharp.

As soon as we got home it was time to put Keaton down, and now I have to get an outfit packed for the second day of my overnight two-day-quick trip to Oregon tomorrow.  I’m shooting for an early bedtime (I did back out of the concert plans after all) so I won’t be quite so burned out on the plane tomorrow.  Sharaun bought this little two-serving piece of chocolate cake when she went up to the grocery store, and I think I’m gonna have my half with a glass of milk here soon (she ate hers as soon as we got back from our walk, she has a weakness for chocolate).  And now, it’s something around ten o’clock and I’ve really done nothing.

Until Oregon then, keep your monitors warm for another round.  Goodnight friends.

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too old for all this

Hi guys.  It’s Tuesday.  I finally uploaded some new pictures of Keaton to the gallery, go ahead and go check them out now before you come back and read another enthralling installment of sounds familiar.

Didn’t end up going to bed Monday night until nigh on one in the morning. That’s not good. I got caught up twiddling with the bootleg MP3-tagging script I wrote so long ago, after I discovered a bug while trying to tag-up some illicit Zeppelin files. Seems like I mess with the thing a couple times a year… maybe it’s good for me, keeps my coding kung-fu on-point (or something). I got up early to shave, too, being that my beard had degenerated into a twisted mess marching down to meet the chest hair curling skyward. It’s like the two are long-lost lovers, the evil Gillette corporation keeping them apart.

I’m supposed to go to a concert tonight in the city, The Fratellis.  Problem is, I leave for Portland tomorrow morning at 6am, which means I’ll need to be at the airport by 5am, which means I’ll need to leave the house around 4:30am, which means I’ll need to wake up around 4am.  Now, I don’t know how many of you have lived in the city I live in and gone to a show in San Francisco – but, if you had, you’d realize that you rarely get home before 2am afterward.  And, if you passed 3rd grade math you’ll realize that I’d be getting, at best, two hours of sleep tonight before having to wake and head out again for my flight.  So, long story short, I think I’m gonna bail on the concertgoing crowd and spend my time packing and getting an early hay-hitting time.

I’m just too old for all this.

Last night as Sharaun was putting Keaton to bed, she (Keaton) said, “Mommy, I recognize there’s no ducky on the wall.”  What she meant by that was that Sharaun hadn’t yet done the pre-bedtime nightlight shadow-ducky thing we do with her, but… “recognize?” Sometimes I wonder where she gets her words from.  I don’t think we  even use the word “recognize” that much… and I’m pretty sure I haven’t heard it on the Backyardigans.  That kid and her oratory-wizardry blow me away.

Goodnight.

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fresh veggies & blue water

Monday night and it’s an 11pm start. As I write these words, I’m sort of doubtful I’ll even hit the “publish” button tonight. But I figured I’d give it a go, because I’m a sport. We were out most of the night, having just returned from a movie with friends (an in-home movie, none of that fancy pre-kid theater stuff). Their place is close, just down the road a piece from us, in fact. Since we had some time before having to be there, I speed-mowed the lawn and showered before departing. And, being that it was a busy and productive day at work today, the mowing and movie-watching made it feel right productive.

I’m taking care of a friend’s place while he and his wife are off on sabbatical (sabbatical, for those new to the blog, is the eight-week vacation my sawmill gives it’s workforce every seven years). I’m supposed to go mow the lawn a few times, pick the ripes from the garden, and monitor the pool. As much as I loathe mowing lawns, I agreed to do the task for a couple reasons. One: I want to be a good friend. Two: I had seized on the job as a way to bond with Keaton a little. Not the lawn-mowing part, but the pool-caring and garden-harvesting parts, rather. My plan is to pack her up in the bike-trailer and ride over (I suppose you think all our friends live close, eh?) to pick tomatoes and green beans and whatnot, then check the chemistry and water level in the pool byt the most accurate means I know of: the “immersion method.”

I have all this stuff I wanted to do on the blog this week.  I wanted to post new pictures of Keaton (I’m way behind), I wanted to do my half-year best-of list, and I wanted to post a new poll.  I’m not sure, what with the trip to Oregon and stuff… I’ll try.

Goodnight.

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what day is this?!

Was hot today, California gets that way sometime a few hours after noon – unlike Florida where it’s blazing as soon as the sun’s up (or at least that’s how it seems). I’m sitting here in shorts and no shirt listening to the new Coldplay album. Just did the dishes and cleaned the kitchen, took a time out to kill some ants that had marched their way into the house in search of food and cooler temperatures – time to spray the perimeter with that Home Depot jug again I suppose. It’s not surprising that ants arrive inside, I’m convinced that the entire slope of our retaining wall is one giant anthill (and I’m barely exaggerating). Now I have to turn off my music so Sharaun can watch another one of those Hell-spawned dancing shows… and that means it’s time to write.

When my alarm sounded this morning at 6:40am, I grabbed my phone and silenced it. For some reason, my brain was telling me it was the weekend – maybe having just returned from traveling the evening before. Funny thing was, I thought it was odd, and a tad annoying if I’m being honest, that Sharaun kept asking me what time it was every few minutes. My weekend-blinded brain didn’t even consider she was gently trying to tell me I seemed to be sleeping late. Finally, she asked me, “Do you have to go to work today?” I sat bolt up and asked: “What day is this?!” “It’s Thursday,” she answered, as if I were stupid. Laughing at my mental mixup, I jumped from bed into a quick shower and dress before heading out the door. Funny, I could’ve sworn it was the weekend… I can even remember contemplating whether it was Saturday or Sunday, and what I was going to do.

Keaton and Sharaun came up to the sawmill today to eat lunch with me in the cafeteria. We have a pretty decent cafe downstairs, I guess on-par with most modern-day computery conglomerates… all sushi and free drinks and designed for blog exposés that make engineering grads drool. Keaton loves coming up to my work, she gets to wear a little temporary badge just like the one I wear to the office each day. Last time, the security guard who signs in visitors dug out a little lanyard and hung her paper badge off it before giving it to her, the picture of daddy and his lanyard-hung badge. She adored it, and wears it around the house sometimes too. She brought it back up today and they stamped the new date on it so she could continue wearing it.

Sharaun and I get her a plate of cold cuts, cooked vegetables, a little egg salad and a slice of cheese. If she eats well, she can share a cookie (OK, she’ll get to share it if she eats or not). The ladies working the cafe (I don’t say that to be sexist, they actually all are ladies) giver her a balloon as we walk around, clipping it to her sleeve – she’s come to expect it. After we eat, people look down and smile as she meanders her way through the halls back to the front desk – her little steps are still just so inherently cute. And, somehow, even though there are some eight-thousand people where I work, we always manage to run into friends from outside work – who she greets with loud hellos and sometimes hugs. It’s great to have her there, I imagine it’s what classic car people feel when their ride is all buffed and tricked out on the line at the carshow. Pure gloating.

As we were leaving, I walked the girls outside where Keaton gave me a hug and a kiss and began to walk back towards the car with Sharaun. As I turned to walk back into the building, she hollered to me, “Goodbye daddy I love you daddy goodbye!” I returned the I love you and goodbye just in time to see her blow me a quick triple of kisses. I smiled, and a total stranger next to me beamed at me saying, “Man, I wish I had a camera… that was the best thing I’ve seen all week.”

Now, that’ll make a dad feel good.

‘Night folks.  Don’t work too hard today, the weekend’s here… after all.