Category: lil’ chino

the coming spawn

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monday AV club (sans V)


Happy Monday morning friends. Hope you all had an enjoyable Easter weekend, maybe took a lazy full-bellied nap or something.

Lemme catch you up on the weekend’s goings-on, something I normally don’t do. Friday night I made the conscious decision to not do anything, and I ended up with the place to myself until late – so when I crawled into bed I snagged Keaton from her crib to keep me company. Saturday morning Keaton and I went down to the church and did the Easter egg hunt (the prep for which was what kept Sharaun out late the night prior), and later that evening we had another party with friends (where dad ended up having a little too much to drink). Sunday we had Easter dinner with friends. It was a great weekend, and the weather was better than perfect.

Oh, and on Friday night I found out I can record snippets of sound with my phone and send them to myself over e-mail. So, I decided to record some audio of Keaton and I singing songs (which we happened to be doing at the time). I liked the results so much, I wanted to share them with you guys. (Turns out it was a good excuse to install a nifty audio-player plugin and retrofit all my audio-containing posts with it also, so, y’know, there was that nerd-attractive aspect to it too). And now, for your pleasure, sit back and enjoy the vocal styling of Miss Keaton:

[audio:voicenote2.mp3]
Itsy Bitsy Spider [Trad. Arrangement; Excerpt]
Just the good ol’ version, but only the first round, mind you.

[audio:voicenote1.mp3]
Itsy Bitsy Little Star In The Sky [Mashup]
Keaton sings us her favorite bits from her favorite two songs. I almost explode when I hear her say, “Llll-like a dyma in the ky! Little tar inna ky!” at the end. Sigh…

[audio:voicenote3.mp3]
Rock-a-Bye Baby & “The Beatles”
I try to prompt her for more, and am not that successful. Every night I sing her the Beatles’ song, “I Will,” and that’s what I’m asking if she can sing for me (she knows the words, it’s her first song!). “The Beatles the Beatles the Beatles…,” ha!

Man, she’s really come a long way since her somewhat embarrassing American Idol audition at the tender age of six months, huh? (Sharaun has taken video of her singing all these songs too, it’s just a lot easier to edit together audio than it is video! Blame it on my lazy.)

Oh, and while going back through my old entries and converting audio links over to the new in-post player format, I stumbled on some good old-school entries I thought I’d drag up from the mire and link to today – y’know, just to round out the post.

First, I stumbled on this gem from 2005. I mention the year here because, in this case, it’s quite notable. See, for me, that post was written in the year 1PK. That’s right, just a mere six months before Sharaun and I would have Keaton (well, technically only Sharaun had her, in the verb sense… but we both have her now). The thing is, when I read that middle paragraph – the one where I bitch and moan about the woman narrating every single minute detail of her flight to her child – I cringed. Because, dear friends, this is exactly what Sharaun and I constantly do with Keaton. Granted, we don’t do it with our voices loud enough to be heard across town, but… still… cringe.

Second, I found the post where I linked to audio samples of a few of the prank phone calls my friends and I used to make and record back in high school. Good stuff, still makes me laugh after all these years, check it out here.

Lastly, the post where I almost offhandedly threw in a hilarious message we’d received on our answering machine, presumably by mistake. Good stuff there too.

Well then, I think that’s it. I did originally have a picture/video update planned for Keaton’s gallery (hence the amended entry title today), covering her 2nd birthday party and Easter, but I didn’t quite get it finished. So look for that sometime around mid-week or something. Until tomorrow then, goodnight.

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YDF #1: The Garba Mane


Hi everyone.

Welcome to the first, of what I hope to be not-just-one, You Decide Friday. Today you helped decide the course of the blog by suggesting content through voting and plain-out suggesting. I’m so glad so many of you voted, and am impressed with the suggestions and the clever “gaming” of the system to essentially beat my anti-cheat statements yesterday about the “all of the above” thing. I say “all of the above” is cheating and that I’ll defer to the 2nd most popular by votes, and you up-vote all the others equally… good job.

First, I want to get some logistical clarifications out of the way. In retrospect, I did a poor job explaining how I intended the poll to work: The original topic suggestions entered by me are just a few items off my huge running list of “blog ideas.” By voting on your favorite, I didn’t mean to say that I’d never write about the others – they’ll all get hit eventually (as long as I enjoy writing). So, maybe that’ll help next time around. And, as a technical sidenote: In the end, I decided I don’t like the polling plugin I spent so much time configuring – when I tried to close the poll for voting earlier today, it wouldn’t work, and kept accepting votes. I’ve decided to go with a different, less AJAXy-cool polling plugin the next time around.

Anyway, up until the aforementioned poll-gaming, the results were a tie between “all of the above” and “How Keaton loves the garbage man, just like I used to.” In the end, I decided to go with the latter. Next time, I’ll better frame the poll (once more, the idea being that you’re voting on which post idea you’d most desire me to write about that Friday, but understanding all the ideas are captured and will probably eventually make their way onto the internet). So then, let’s take bull by the horns… shall we?

When I was a young kid, I loved the garbage man; or so my parents tell me. In fact, around the age of four or five, I was apparently quite fond of all-things garbage. Now, my parents, much like all parents, I’m sure, have, over the course of my adult life, latched on to a few “go-to” stories and anecdotes about my childhood, and the refer to them whenever possible. The one about how I used to love the garbage man, and garbage in general, is one of these old standards. The “David, did I ever tell you about how much you loved the garbage man?,” question is one I’ve become intimately familiar with. (“No, pop. I used to love the garbage man?… Get out!,” is a good tongue-in-cheek response, by the way.) Sarcasm aside, my folks seem to take particular delight in regaling me with tales of how I’d wait outside each morning on garbage-collection day so I could wave and smile to the garbage man in his truck (particularly if we’re amongst a gathering of my grown-up buds).

This may sound odd today, but you have to remember how “active” garbage day was in its heyday. Back then, garbage collection was done not by a guy driving a truck with a robotic arm who never has to leave the comfort of his cab, but by a highly-orchestrated “crew” of workers. In these days of yore, a garbage collection “team” consisted of: the guy who drove the truck, and one or two additional guys who actually rode on the back of the truck, clutching to special perches designed specifically for the purpose. When the truck stopped at the curb, which had been conscientiously lined with garbage cans by homeowners the night before, the ridealong men actually jumped off the trucks and used their thick-gloved hands to hoist and dump the trash into the back of the truck. This was something of a choreographed ballet, the principles dressed in overalls, workboots, and grimy baseball caps. As a kid, it must’ve been something to see.

Did I do a good enough job convincing you it wasn’t that odd of a thing to be interested in? No? Well, I guess that’s fine, because there’s more…

In addition to the story about how I loved the garbage man, and garbage collection day, my parents nearly always segue that story into the one about how, when in public places, I used to run from garbage can to garbage can – giving each a big hug. Now, look, I know what you’re thinking… you’re saying to yourself, “Dave, that’s kinda odd… I mean, the thing with the garbage truck and all… boys are often impressed with big machines and stuff so that’s pretty understandable. But… embracing garbage cans?… That’s a little odd.” And yes, I know, I know. But, what’s a guy to do? I can’t go all America’s Most Wanted, put on some weight, change my hair color and shave my beard, move to Fargo and go by Bill Schmidt or anything – I have to stand up to my past, have to greet it with… open arms. So what if I ran between garbage cans hugging them? Odd, yes; certifiable, no.

Making a long story short, or something, it suffices to say that, as tyke, I liked garbagey stuff. And, while I’ve long outgrown this refuse infatuation (aside from the small level of fascination I still have in the whole taking-away-garbage “process”), I fear it seems to be genetic. Keaton, as cute and spotless-clean as she is, seems to also suffer from the garbage-man love (she calls him the “garba mane,” but then, we all have petnames for the things we love).

Every Thursday morning, when she hears the rumble of the garbage truck making its rounds through the still-sleepy neighborhood, she’ll shout, “The garba mane is coming daddy!” “Yes,” Sharaun or I will reply, “You hear the garbage man, don’t you?” “Yeah, I hear a garba mane!,” she’ll say, followed with a, “See him?!” We tend to pull dialog out of her, so we’ll reply with simple questions like, “What does the garbage man do?,” or, “Do you like seeing the garbage man?” “Yeah!,” she’ll reply anxiously, “He dumpa trash, daddy! He dumpa trash inna big truck! W-w-w-w-wan-wan-wanna-wan-wanna wave at the garba man, daddy!” At which point we’ll (actually, it’s typically Sharaun, since I’ve usually already left for work) take her outside and let her watch the garbage truck take away our trash.

She smiles and shouts and waves at the man driving the truck. Originally, he sat there as stone, somehow managing to not acknowledge Keaton, all her brilliant cuteness directed squarely at him. Personally, I think he might have figured her for some kind of cuteness-Medusa, and likely feared that, should he look at her directly, he’d be turned into a fluffy little yellow chick or stuffed Sanrio kitten. Nowadays, though, Sharaun says his hardened heart has grown weak, and he returns Keaton’s smiles and waves as he directs the robot-arm to our trash.

I love that she loves the garbage man. It makes me think that she’s somehow like me, even though I know it’s purely coincidental and all.

Well, that’s it. Hope you enjoyed it. Goodnight.

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it’s better than rain


Thursday. Garbage day. Maybe the internet stalkers can puzzle out where I live based on that; I hope not. Today is also your last chance to vote in the You Decide Friday Poll, where you can tell me what to write tomorrow. And, whoever cheated and added the “all of the above” option (which, crappily, is currently winning), I’m totally gonna ignore that and default to whatever’s behind it – all of the above is cheating, sorry. Anyway, let’s get onto this blogging thing…

Was another gorgeous day in Sunny California today. Most of the trees are in bloom now, hastening their way to Spring green. As I drove back to work after lunch, I cut through an airborne swirl of little pink and white dogwood blossoms, whirling and twirling like Springtime snowflakes. I kept waiting for some to flitter in through my open windows or sunroof, maybe land on my shirt or something – but not a one did. I was happy on that drive, not just because of how neat it was to be driving through a haze of blossoms, but because I’d met Sharaun and Keaton for lunch at a park nearby work. We had chicken sandwiches (have to consume that thoughtful rotisserie chicken I so rudely spurned Monday evening), and Kristi and Colton, who also joined us, brought some potato chips and soda. I ate my sandwich sprawled on the grass, then played around with Keaton for an hour or so before reporting back to the sawmill. Was a good lunch, even though I did put $70 of gas into the Ford on the way back… stupid dead dinosaurs… cost so much.

That’s really all I have tonight. It was a late dinner at a friend’s place, a fellow manager at the sawmill to be precise. While we supped, we discussed creative ways to turn the screws at work, discussing our eventual ascent up the pile of overworked bodies to the top of the pecking order. No, not really. In reality, we played with the kids and talked about the trip to Mexico we’re both going on in the near future. I enjoy not being at work with work people, it’s fun sometimes. I’ve really made some good friends through the sawmill.

Well, before I leave you, you’ll get one last chance to vote on the theme for tomorrow’s entry right below. Thanks to those who voted already.

Goodnight everyone, check ya on the flipside.

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a firm belief in entropy


Happy Sunday night Sunday night people; Happy Monday morning Monday morning people.

Sitting around now drinking some better-drink-it-tonight wine before it goes to vinegar, listening to the iPod shuffle up some tunes, and helping Sharaun decide what to make for dinner by suggesting my all-time go-to, spaghetti. “Why is it always spaghetti?,” she asks rhetorically. “It’s my secret punishment for you not having dinner planned,” I think in my brain while I say, “Because I like spaghetti,” out loud (neither is less true than the other). Long blog tonight, words just came. I resisted the urge to split-and-save, and just plonked it all down in as best a logical order as I could find. Enjoy.

Today I had decided that, after church, I wanted to get out into the yard and do some work. Yesterday I was out and mowing the lawn early enough that the puffs of my exhaled breath hung like small clouds in front of my face, trying to beat forecasted rain that never did show up. Today, I had plans to finish up the fence and maybe plant some new plants. Of course, per my standard work ethic, I got slightly less than that done. I did manage to finish up edging in the backyard (the stupid rechargeable edger ran out of juice with just under half to go, I swear I’m buying a gas one), tend to some plants, do some weeding, and actually do as much as I could on the fence without making the final trip to the hardware store for the pieces I needed (I was slightly less motivated than needed for a trip to the store).

While I was out laboring under the cloudless sunny sky, Keaton joined me, following me around and offering her “help” whenever she could. Unsurprisingly, I eventually broke down and ended up laying in the grass with her blowing bubbles from a bottle and wand she found somewhere. That was so fun, I decided to go ahead and taunt the weather Gods by breaking out the hammock and Summertime patio-set cushions and umbrella (I had uncovered the barbecue a week ago, and have cooked on it twice already in these infantile days of Summer). Keaton helped me fasten the cushions onto the chairs with their little Velcro loops, and immediately wanted to “fwing” in the hammock (which is the real reason I broke the thing out to begin with).

I figure, if I had to tally it all on a timesheet for a foreman, I’d have about one and a half solid hours of work, and an equal amount of time spent blowing bubbles, swinging with Keaton in the hammock, and running around the yard togehter. It’s the kinda workday I man can get into, you know? If only one of those burrito trucks would’ve come buy hawking quesadillas and nachos midway through or something… it woulda been tops.

Nerd stuff ahead, fast-forward if you want:

Oh, and, not that you care (or notice, I’ll bet) I fixed a few particularly annoying (to me) stylesheet bugs here on the site this weekend. One, I got rid of the stupid green bullets Internet Explorer put next to the poll choices from Friday’s entry (Firefox rendered them fine, but I had to hack around IE’s stupidness, and IE still doesn’t do the dynamic AJAXy stuff right like Firefox does). Two, I also finally fixed the fact that IE rendered the “recent comments” section of the sidebar with absolutely no gap between the comments (Firefox, of course, handled this perfectly and as intended). So, because it’s an inelegant fix, the gap in Firefox is now slightly larger than I’d like, while the IE gap is slightly smaller. Hey, it’s the best I could do without getting too fancy. Hope it enhances your experience (yeah, sure).

Nerd stuff over.

Let me tell you folks, I’m a firm believer in the concept of entropy. Defined as, “Inevitable and steady deterioration of a system or society,” I’m so convinced in the concept because I see it happening before my eyes all the time: Before I leave for work, I clear off my tiny third of the dresser-top (Sharaun gets two-thirds, I get the rest, this is just how it goes); when I return from work, the same surface which was just hours ago neat and tidy is now littered with washed and folded clothes, keys, stray earrings and other jewelry, receipts, and all other manner of crap. Entropy.

One day, upon returning home from work, I notice that our game of Balderdash was, for some reason, sitting on the floor in the garage between our two cars. Over the next few days, Balderdash was joined by some large bag bulging with Lord knows what. Soon, there are clothes atop the pile, what looks like trash, toys and shoes. I have no idea where the pile is coming from, but it’s not me. It’s growing by the week, and shows no signs of stopping. The other day I swear I saw a couple Fraggles asking advice from it. To make matters worse, it’s now spilling into the area where I walk, making the garage difficult to navigate. Entropy.

When I ask Sharaun about the slowly growing mound, she says, “Oh, that all came out of my car… I need to clean that up.” Folks, I honestly have no earthly idea how that substantial pile came from her car, especially since her car is still so piled with junk it’s hard to believe anything has ever been taken out of it. I guess, when the junk gets so high it spills out the open doors, she simply makes new piles. Now, let me say, I’m not trying to pick on her too much here… I mean I still love her and all. Entropy.

Then, tonight, Sharaun came home from an hour or so where I was home alone with Keaton, and came in the house to ask, “So… I guess you haven’t been in the garage lately, right?” “What do you mean,” I reply, “I was in and out of there all day today working outside.” “Well, the shelf above your workbench completely fell off the wall, everything’s all over the place,” she says. I walk into the garage to see for myself… and yes, everything has really fallen off the wall. Three of the four metal ‘L’ brackets that tie the shelving into the studs are still attached to the wall, although one is bent, and the fourth is gone, ripped out entirely. Everything, from our hiking packs, to boxes full of who-knows-what, to the receiver for my ghetto garage sound system… everything… is stacked in a sprawling pile at the front of my truck. I didn’t even stay in there long enough to contemplate the cleanup – I just sighed and moved on. Entropy.

Quick reminder that I’m running sounds familiar‘s first ever You Decide Friday poll, and for convenience I’ve reposted the voting right below for those who’ve yet to participate.

Thanks to those who’ve already voted, and thanks to the creative soul who mashed up the options to make their own… quite humorous. If you’ve not voted already, what are you waiting for?

Did I mention that Keaton’s stuttering is back? If not: Keaton’s stuttering is back. It’s strange, because while she and Sharaun were in Florida, her previous bout simply disappeared. It was completely gone up until about three days ago (I even wrote about being happy it had seemingly cleared itself up), when, all of the sudden, she just started doing it again. Like I said before, I’m still not overly concerned, especially now that it’s come and gone once already – it’s just strange. I’ll keep ya posted on the on-again-off-again-ness of it right here on the ol’ blog, OK? OK.

Well, that’s about it… goodnight people. Until tomorrow.

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alternating fits of tears and rage


Hi Wednesday, it’s me here again… writing… again… about… stuff… again.

Tonight, Sharaun had a volleyball game and I stayed home with Keaton. I decided to make banana bread for some reason, maybe to finally get rid of those blackish bananas frozen solid and strewn about the freezer shelves. When I set it to bake, Keaton and I walked down to the mailbox (remote communal mailboxes are all the rage in new California developments, further promoting the laziness of USPS workers).

I was barefoot, and she had on one sock. She shouted at the neighbors finishing up their lawn work as I pulled her past in the wagon, “I’m riding in a wagon and going to get the mail!” “Sounds fun!,” they’d wave back. I occurred to me then, barefoot and pulling my daughter behind me in a wagon while my banana bread baked at home… I’m a straight-up woman. I’m just glad it wasn’t my time of the month, or the realization might have had me in alternating fits of tears and rage right there on the sidewalk. Sheesh.

But, coming back to reality… I’m sitting here on the couch (where I always sit), with my laptop on my lap (where it always is), typing, web-surfing, and listening to music (like I always do). Right now some Most Serene Republic has shuffled up on the iPod, and the scatterstep popcorn beat has me giddy. I seriously love this band, and their albums have really stood the test of time (can you call less than five years “time?”) for me.

On the new music tip, my primo-2008 playlist thus far consists of two measly albums. First, recently SNL-broken Vampire Weekend‘s debut, next, and finally, Cloud Cult‘s Feel Good Ghosts (Tea-Partying Through Tornadoes), which I think comes out in April sometime. Looking forward, I’m anxiously awaiting leaks from The Unicorns, The Hold Steady, Sufjan Stevens, Of Montreal, and the Postal Service. Sounds like it could be a rad 2008, huh?

Changing subjects now, and bear with me on this one… it’s kinda odd.

Oftentimes, when I eat, I have some sort of sinus-based reaction. Back in my younger days, I can remember my mother referring to a family “curse” which was supposedly to blame for members of her bloodline going into sneezing fits shortly after meals. But, while the mixture of my father’s lineage seems to have spared me from that curse, I do seem to suffer from some milder form. See, when I eat, my nose sometimes decides to run. I know this is common with particularly spicy food, but for me it also tends to happen with regular, run-of-the-mill, meals too. It’s not like it comes in torrents or anything, more like an annoyance. Nevertheless, it causes me to reach for the nearest napkin to stem the tide.

The reason I’m writing about this here, honestly, is to criticize myself. Because, usually, the napkin I end up grabbing to swab my schnoz is the same napkin I’m using to dab my mouth between bites. I find this personally disgusting, but the reality is that I usually don’t even notice I’m doing it until I’ve already done it. At which point I immediate grab another napkin and dedicate it to either nose or mouth usage, trying to place one on either side of my plate for easy differentiation. When I catch myself doing this, I often wonder if my tablemates have also noticed… and what they must think. To those who sup with me regularly, I’m sorry – I’m working on it.

And with that, I believe it’s time to bid you all adieu, for I have nothing more to say (hard to imagine, right?). Time to put the laptop away until I do it all over again tomorrow. Love you all, goodnight.

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keaton had a party


Hey guys, welcome to “workweek eleven,” as we call it at my sawmill. It’s gonna seem quite the ramble today, as I wrote it in snatches over the weekend. I tried to arrange things the best I could, and put stuff that could potentially be related together… hope that’s OK with you. The practical side of me thought I should split this up into two entries, guaranteeing Tuesday night in the process – but, I didn’t do it. Enjoy.

Saturday morning I headed over to Pat’s place bright and early to lend a hand with some manual labor (you know, as all good friends tend to do from time to time). After a good morning’s worth of work, I hopped into the Ford to head home. With the sunshine soaked into my bones from the work outside, I was feeling one of those good-weather highs and I rolled down the windows and opened the sunroof as I cranked the tunes. As I drove through the neighborhood, the early great weather we’ve been having prior to the “official” change of season was openly apparent in the populous: Men were out tending their keeps with lawnmowers and edgers and blowers, children were jumping rope and riding bikes in driveways, and the mechanically inclined were propped on elbows next to motorcycles or disappeared up to their ankles under vehicles. The buzz of two-stroke engines and the collective yelps of children swelled together with my music to make it a defining moment for me: My own personal arrival of Spring. I’m ready for summer and all its dry, hot, baking heat. I want to go camping, swimming, and on bring buckets of chicken to parks. I want to drink beer and eat meat. I want to sweat in the yard and fall asleep in the hammock. C’mon Summer… we’re waiting.

I know you guys hate it when I write about my iPod, but I just wanted to share real quick how my whole iPod use-model has changed. Ever since I got the new mega-size 160GB iPod Classic some time ago, I’ve slowly been working on assembling the “ultimate” collection of music on it – my personal musical canon (at this point in time), if you will. Now, previously, my iPod was always smaller than my collection – meaning what went on the iPod had to be a carefully chosen subset of of greater collection on hard disk. Now, however, it seems like I can just keep adding and adding tunes to this beast, and it’ll just continue to swallow them up like a black hole. This phenomenon is so pronounced, in fact, that I’m beginning to reach a critical transition in iPod use: the day when my iPod and my hard disk collection are one in the same (i.e. the iPod can contain everything I have). As a matter of fact, I’m close to this point already.

Lately I’ve been plugging in the iPod and just paging through my collection looking for music to add. With the humungous size of the thing, I often find myself thinking things like, “Every single Roxy Music album through Avalon?, sure, why the heck not?” I’ve picked over my collection so much, actually, that what’s going on the iPod is driving a general “cleanup” of music in the main collection. I mean, if it’s not good enough to put on the iPod, why do I even have it at all? I see this whole thing converging around a single, amazingly complete collection. And, since Apple seems to be increasing the size of the ‘Pods at a good clip – hopefully my iPod will grow as my collection does. OK, that’s enough music stuff.

Or… is it? I promise it’s different from the nerdy kinda music talk, it’s just setup.

A thought struck me the other night: I simply don’t have enough classic Motown records on my iPod. Now, Stax is fairly well represented, but the thought of going through Summer without those classic Gordy A-Sides shuffling up was enough to make me cry. I have one Motown Records “best of” from the classic “Hitsville USA” period in my collection, but even it seemed lacking – since the Detroit output at the time was like a pipeline of #1 records. So, I got online and went to may favorite 100% pay-for-music place and acquired a collection called 100 Motown Classics, which contains, well… one-hundred Motown classics. I dropped it on the iPod early Sunday morning and waited with anticipation for a good time to indulge.

So that’s how a Sunday evening found Keaton and I dancing around the living room to an endless run of Motown classics, like something you’d see in a one of those movies chicks dig so much. You know, that done and overdone ubiquitous scene where a bunch of women dance around to an old-time rock ‘n’ roll record? Yeah… you know the scene I’m talking about – it usually happens in a kitchen, and nine times out of ten words will be mouthed into a wooden spoon. ‘Cept we were in the living room, and there were no wooden-spoon ersatz microphones, and she doesn’t really know any of the words. Still, it was fun.

After we’d danced ourselves out, we played with the loot she got from her birthday party that same day. I know, her real birthday was weeks ago – but we had to cancel and reschedule her party because she got sick when she and Sharaun were in Florida. So, today we met a bunch of her (and our) friends up at the kid-gym place for an hour running around on mats, somersaulting, balance-beaming, and all sorts of other Dad’s-gonna-end-up-out-of-breath -ing verbs. We actually had a great time, owed in no small part to the brevity of the whole thing. Putting an hour-and-a-half limit on it really helped, in my opinion, to keep it short and sweet – without being overlong for grown-ups and kids. And, Keaton took home quite a haul.

I’m mostly looking forward to playing with some of the water toys she got once the weather warms up, and am particularly excited about the junior-gardener set she got – including yellow, red, and green polkadot-ladybug bucket, spade, claw, and little matching gloves. I mean, even though I’m like 100% bull-male, I do enjoy rooting around in the garden – and it’ll be fun to have her out there in the dirt with me. She also got a Mrs. Potato Head, which I think is awesome. Although, Mr. Potato Head didn’t bother showing up… likely out at the Root Cellar again, watching those slutty college spuds peel themselves to pay their way through college or something… Meanwhile Mrs. Potato Head has to make due on the government disability she gets for having an ear where her mouth should be and a tongue sticking out from the top of her head (she really is a sight). Sad toys, really.

Keeping with the Keaton theme today…

You guys may remember (or not, I won’t be offended) I posted a while back about a somewhat disturbing new development on the Keaton front – when she surprised us by coming down with a stuttering “thing” rather out of the blue. Well, turns out it must’ve been quite the transient phase, because no more than a week or two later it’s now almost completely gone. Strange, maybe it was just a kick she was on… maybe she liked the sound of it. Guess we’ll never know, although I will say I’m glad it worked itself out and I don’t have to be “worried” about it anymore – even if it was secretly hilarious. Her speech, in fact, continues to impress me.

She’s currently spending a lot of energy making sure she gets her pronouns right. Each time she goes to say “he” or “she” or “his” or “her” or “your” or “my” or “I,” you can actually see her brain work overtime in an effort to get it right. Honestly, she impresses the crap out of me with the way she seems to figure things out, even to the point of correcting herself on-the-fly. Oftentimes, she’ll say something like, “Here daddy, I’m bringing his phone to you,” and then immediately correct herself by adding, “I’m bringing your phone to you.” Sharaun, of course, thinks she’s the smartest baby in the world, but I like to think that, as the dad, I’m a little more reserved in gushing over her language abilities (but I do my fare share of fawning behind the scenes). She is my little prodigy though, I’ll admit that. /Gloating.

OK, OK, that’s enough. Sorry it was so varied. Goodnight.

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a different kind of work


Happy Friday friends, relatives, and lurkers. Thanks for stopping by before the weekend. I managed to get a little bit of stuff typed out for you today, hopefully you’ll enjoy it.

All you guys and your photo-rich blogs, making photos the centerpiece of your writing, or forgoing writing completely for photos… you’re making me look bad. There was a time when I was uploading a new batch of pictures to Keaton’s gallery every Sunday night. Sometime, that slipped to every other week, then once a month, and has now settled into something like every month-and-a-half to two months. I think part of it is that we just simply don’t take the volume of snapshots we did in those first months, and the other part is likely my own laziness. Either way, I don’t expect it’ll change much… but, I did manage to get an update posted today, and you can check it out by hovering your pointy thing here and pressing the button on your mouse with your finger. OK, done looking? Let’s move on then.

I came home early today to work on the fence, work was light.

Oh, hey, that reminds me… did you guys know that, when you’re putting up a fence and you want to re-use the main between-posts sections from your old fence, it’s not a good idea to just assume that each section is the same is the rest? I mean, just because nine out of ten of your between-post sections are 91″ long, you better measure them all instead of just blindly setting all your posts, each in its own 100lbs of concrete, at 91″ apart. I’m just saying… it’s probably a good idea.

I mean, for instance, what if, for some ridiculously dumbass reason, the people who built your fence originally made 48 of your 50 between-post sections 91″ long, and, purely for the shit of it, made the other two sections 96″? What then? Know what? You’d be, like, 6″ off on your last post. Yeah, you totally would. Know what you’d have to do then? You’d have to cut down one section of fence, and somehow extend another. I’m not sure, but I bet that whole “extension” process would result in some pretty ghetto-lookin’ fencing when it was all said and done.

I mean, it’d probably be structurally sound and all… but, like I said, you should really measure each section you want to re-hang and then use those measurements to determine your between-post distances. Then, and only then, should you mark out where you want your posts and set them in concrete. Now, you can do whatever you want, you’re the boss here… I’m just sayin’.

Dunno if you guys managed to read my blog yesterday or not, but if not, I’ll give you a minute or two to scroll down and do so. Back yet? No? OK… Now? Good. Like almost all my entries, that one automatically posted at midnight last night. This morning, when I woke up and was getting ready for work, my BlackBerry made the “new personal e-mail” chime and I plopped down in front of the laptop to check it there.

Turns out an old friend from waaaay yonder back in high school had read the entry, sympathized with me (to the point of commenting), and decided help me out. In her mail, she attached some play money images she’d made, in what I can only assume were the few extra hours afforded to her by virtue of timezone differences. What’s so cool about them is that she actually cut and pasted Keaton’s happy mug right over the boring old dead presidents who normally grace our dosh. I just thought that was a totally cool thing to do.

Thanks again Maggie, Keaton’s gonna love her personalized money.

And with that, I’m outta here. Hope you have a good Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. I know I plan to. Goodnight and goodweek.