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i want my covers flat!

Ducks in a row.Right now Keaton is screaming in her room.  She’s refusing to go to bed because she can’t get her “covers flat.”

Allow me to explain.

I fear that my daughter has inherited some of my OCD tendencies.  See, she has some very ritualistic habits for a three year old: Needing to say “goodnight” and “I love you,” along with blowing just so many kisses, in a choreographed bedtime progression that’s repeated for a fixed number of volleys before she’s satisfied and starts to doze off; wanting her “covers flat,” which means that the blanket can have no wrinkles at all – no matter if it’s on top of her or she’s laying on it; not being able to tolerate a single speck of dirt or debris in her shoes without nearly losing it; giving up on food in a fit of frustration if it’s not assembled correctly (a sandwich that’s falling apart, for instance).  On and on the list goes…

No, I don’t think this any kind of real OCD, or even anything serious… rather I think it’s part of the peculiarities of being a three year-old.  Wanting familiarity, desiring consistency, exerting some degree of control over one’s world.  But, whatever it is, when it chooses to manifest, it can be a three-year-old tornado.  I mean, right now, Sharaun is back there trying to explain to Keaton that the past forty-five minutes of screaming, crying, and all-out worked up tantrumming has been for nothing more than “wrinkled covers.”  Somehow, I don’t think Keaton appreciates just how ridiculous that is – but I gotta hand it to Sharaun for at least trying.

Camping this weekend, she lost it over a breakfast burrito that was losing its guts and falling apart in general.  Beginning as a whiny, “It keeps falling apart!,” and eventually escalating into a near all out breakdown where she refused to eat the thing unless it could be reassembled into a nice, neat, handheld breakfast.  I tried re-characterizing the pile of former-burrito on her plate as a regular style breakfast, but it was hopeless… she continued to try and rebuild the thing in futility, getting more and more frustrated and more and more vocal as she continued to fail.

Usually, when she obsesses over some minor thing like this and loses it, Sharaun and I try to use it as an example of how not everything always go your way.  I can remember saying, “Breakfast burritos are supposed to fall apart babe, that’s part of what makes them so good.”  The key seems to get her to remove her brain from the motivating hangup (in this case, taking away the burrito altogether) and then getting her to calm down and relax.  At that point we can typically re-introduce the hangup (be it a burrito, covers, dirty shoes, etc.) and usually get past it all.

But really, I don’t know… this whole parenting thing is a crapshoot.  I don’t read the books, I just do what seems right; even if it sometimes it feels like baking a delicate cake over a bonfire…  Wish us luck with our progeny, OK?

Oh, and lest you think I just bailed and gave tonight’s bedtime fit to my wife – we alternate on the nighttime Keaton duties, and tonight was her night.  And if that sounds like a copout, I’ll also note that we have an agreement that “owning” bedtime for the night means owning all of bedtime – whether it be a quick and easy one or some hellish protracted nightmare of one like tonight.  So, while I’m here for support and guidance, there’s some binding agreement (we may have actually drawn, signed, and notarized a contract… I can’t recall) that it’s up to her to get our sweet angel calmed down and off to sleep.

And, after everything, OCD tantrum and all, Keaton was asleep by the time I finished that last paragraph.  Good job Sharaun; good job.

Well… I need to go flatten my covers before I head to bed.  Goodnight y’all.

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not quite like riding a bike

Ouch.Internet!!  Man, long time no talk!  What’s been going on with you?

Tuesday night and I’m tuckered from some surprise post-work wakeboarding.  Now, it’s probably been four years since I last got up on a wakeboard, and back then it took me pretty much a whole season before I was able to do it consistently… so I was a little worried I’d not remember the mechanics of it all.

I did have some issues standing up on my first set of pulls, but did OK the second time around.  I’m still nothing much to watch on the water, but I sure had a great time – and it satisfies the “work out tonight” requirement nicely.

Sorry I didn’t write last night, didn’t get to it until too late and didn’t have much to say.  Tonight tho, let’s talk about stuff.

Sharaun, who doesn’t read much (not that I’m much better with my fickle on-and-off appetite for books), has apparently tuned into the latest female-groupthink brainwaves and has been addicted to reading those Twilight books.  I know, making fun of some subconscious ladies-only mental connection isn’t really fair; the books surely must be entertaining for so many to enjoy them, it’s just fun to point out that they are totally chick books.

Anyway, her newfound interest in vampires and teenage lust works well for me as she graciously allows me to listen to music (at a reasonable volume) as she reads.  Nice to get some non-TV tunes during the normal TV’s-always-on evening hours.  TV is way overrated, and I’ll take some tunes anytime over even my favorite shows.  Tonight I got to listen to the whole (A+B-side) of Jethro Tull’s long-winded but excellent prog masterpeice, Thick As A Brick.  Not often you can sit through that.  Go vampires.

Oh man I’m falling asleep sitting up.  Goodnight friends.

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a bitter elixir for the aged

Some kinda fire.Monday again.  Well, not now… but tomorrow, when you read this, it will be.

Back from another weekend of camping.  Back-to-back tent-hotel with us plus the wee one.  Perhaps not for some, but for us a real spot of light to be among friends and nature with the family.  Yeah, set-up and tear-down never seem to have as many hours betwixt them as I’d desire, or, rephrased: I’m wasn’t ready to leave the woods and come back to work; but… we’re back and I tried to be productive with the couch time.

What did I do?  I published some four months of pictures to Keaton’s gallery.  No; really.  I did.  So, if you’re among my many recent detractors, those in the, “When are you going to publish new pictures,” or, “I can’t beleive you haven’t updated since February” camp – you can kindly stuff a sock in it now.  Click this sentence and let’s get it over with; we at sounds familiar will be waiting for you when you get back – and we better see a grin so wide on your face that it gives away your internalized joy at the new snapshots.

OK then, let’s do some writing.

In a disturbing trend in our tiny, oft debris-strewn household, the odds that either Sharaun or I will brew a pot of coffee around 8pm have gone from an almost never 100:1 to something nearer 3:1 in recent months.  I don’t know when this change happened, but an early-evening cup of coffee has become something of a delectation for me.  I call this trend “disturbing” because it’s just another indicator to me that the normal human process of aging is progressing just well and fine within me.  As a child, coffee seemed a bitter elixir for the aged, a lifeblood so essential that it could be sucked in hard candy form when not available as a fluid.

Old and me, we ain’t strangers.

Remember a year ago when I had all those problems with birds eating my backyard fruits and veggies?  Well, I’d almost put that frustration behind me, mended those fences between the fowl and I.  Almost, that is, until their voracious appetites dredged the whole emotional issue to the surface anew this year.  So far they’ve ruined ripe tomatoes, plums, and one of only two apricots my young tree managed to produce (I was so indignant on that last one, I proceeded to eat the remaining fruit around the peck marks).  Stupid hungry birds.

Goodnight.

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off again

Machinating.Friday and, even though I took a vacation day Monday: it’s about time.

We go forth into the not-really-wilds of white-people car-camping this weekend (yes, again).  Closer to home than last weekend’s Yosemite jaunt, we’ll be up north somewhere at a lake we’ve never been to.  Keaton is excited, and truthfully, despite the feeling that I’ve not had a weekend at home in nearly a month, I am too.  I have aspirations for the trip: Frisbee in the right hand, Newcastle in the left, maybe a pipe and book while wearing my silly old-man brimmed “camping hat” that Sharaun hates so much.

Yeah, camping.  Oh and…

While we were in Oregon last week, I took the opportunity to thumb through my folks’ vast collection of family photo albums.  On a mission, I tore at every picture I found which interested me: family photos of us growing up; old photos of my ancestry; past vacations; baby pictures; pictures of my Mom and Dad when they met; before the met, etc.  I pulled them all from the albums and placed them carefully in plastic bags to transport them home.  Why, you ask?

Well, because I’m planning on sending them off to a bulk photo-scanning outfit I’ve read decent things about online, that’s why.  For pennies a picture this place will run as many of your old prints as you can send through a machine, scanning them and sending them back to you on DVDs.  The reason I’m doing this is simple: archiving as much of my family’s photographed history as I can.  Secondly, however, I also think these images will make excellent blog material.  For instance, there’s a series of pictures taken in my Dad’s bachelor pad (pre Mom, I hope)… and they are much too awesome not to post and write about.

So, coming soon, some interesting old-timey type photos we can all enjoy together.

Goodnight.

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spinning in love

One day maybe.Hi.

Before going to bed last night I told Sharaun I had today figured for a harrying one at the sawmill.  With last week shot to time in Oregon and the subsequent game of catch-up, and Monday’s Yosemite weekend extension absence, I knew I’d face an avalanche neglected and undone work.  I was right; but it was one of those good-feeling busy days, where you end up leaving feeling more productive than overwrought.

After work I made a brief stopover at a local watering hole to have an (informal) “after hours” business meeting with some of the other shirts.  Sometimes those suds-and-appetizer ad-hoc meetings are the best for real conversation… and the unstated rule of confidentiality that disclaims all bar-talk certainly helps.  Anyway, thirty minutes past five and I was home… unfortunately with a bellyful of bad-for-me pub food and not much interested in the healthier pasta dish Sharaun had prepared for me (I’m scheduled on the “Bad Husbands” episode of Springer next month).

Once at home, I found Keaton especially animated and talkative, and had the wherewithal to grab the camera and roll film as she started to tell me about her plans for “falling in love.”  So then, since I recorded it I figured I’d spend ten minutes editing it and slapping a title on it so I could properly share it with the internet.  Here, then, is Keaton talking about “falling in love”:

[flv:https://blog.pharaohweb.com/video/spinning_in_love.flv 320 240]

Interesting notions on love and marriage, Keaton.  Glad you could be here to share with the sounds familiar audience today.

And now, changing subjects: The Ford continues to lumber along while she awaits a merciful death at the hands of the Obama administration’s “Cash for Clunkers” plan.  A goverment-connected friend of mine keeps me informed on the progress of the various legislative efforts around this initiative which are snaking their way through Congress.  In a good sign, the House today passed their version of the bill.  A good sign, to be sure, but I’m still reserving all-out excitement for final language and voting.

Oh before I go, I heard a joke I liked today.  Q: How many hipsters does it take to screw in a light bulb?  A: It’s a really obscure number; you’ve probably never heard of it.

And that, my friends, is the end of the blog for Tuesday.  Goodnight.

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back to reality

We made it.Monday night and sore.

Back from Yosemite, and with Monday as vacation it’ll be another abbreviated workweek.  And, due to some scheduling oversight (or not, I forget) we’re off camping again this weekend.  It’s cool; although I do miss having a weekend at home to actually do some things (or no things, for that matter).

The trip was fantastic.  The Sunday Half Dome hike turned out better than I could’ve hoped.  The weather was amazing, the trail wasn’t overcrowded, and I felt great the whole way.  We got a late start, arriving at the trailhead about a quarter to seven in the morning.  The crew made good time for the first seven or so miles, bringing us all from the valley floor at about ~4,000ft to above the treeline at about ~7,800ft to the east of Half Dome on the famous trail.  At that point, some threatening clouds had begun to ring the valley, hanging above the granite walls that rim it, and there was an increasing amount of separation amongst the crew.

Worried at the weather, and with Mike and I still feeling relatively fresh and strong, we made the selfish decision to push hard for the summit and leave the other three behind.  I felt a little bad about it, but we tackled the exposed part of the hike to the saddle before the cable-climb with such vigor that the thought soon left my mind for the burning in my calves.  We had agreed that we’d make a gametime decision at the base of the cables, based on how the clouds looked – and, when the time came we opted to go.

The cables were crowded and the ascent took much, much longer than I’d have liked.  Without having to hold up for all the slowpokes and panickers, I really do think Mike and I could’ve pressed to the summit in fifteen or twenty minutes; but, as it was it took us more like forty to get to the top. Once there we ate the Lunchables I’d hiked up to refuel, took a couple pictures, and rested just a bit before heading back down.  After another twenty minutes waiting in the queue heading down we were on the granite steps again and, before too long, on our way out.

All told the ~17mi trip took ten hours, and I haven’t felt physically better on a long hike, ever.  My legs were fresh longer than ever before, and, even though I started to crash at one point on the descent I was able to pull out of it with a Cliff bar and some good conversation.  Mentally, I like to attribute this to my new weight loss and increased stamina – but that makes me feel somehow arrogant.  But, it sure did empower me along the way.

I love that hike.

And, as for the non-hike part of the trip – we had a great time with friends.  Our little tent cabin in the valley was cozy and the camp meals were delicious as always.  In fact, the post-hike pizza and beer were about as fine a meal as I can recall having in any recent time.  Keaton had a blast playing with Gracie and even got to do a hike of her own the day we did Half Dome: All the way to the Vernal Falls footbridge (which is, honestly, quite the accomplishment for four women, two three year-old girls, and an infant).

So yeah, Yosemite was great.  I’ll post some pictures soon (including a long-overdue update covering the last few months – I promise).  And now, back to work tomorrow and I don’t want to go.

I don’t want to go.  Goodnight.

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weekget endaway

Cables.Hey guys. Sorry the week ended empty around here last week; we made it home safe from Oregon (but not without a little drama) and the evenings robbed me of writing time.

The return trip from Oregon almost wasn’t.

When I bought the tickets for our trip, I recall debating between coming home Wednesday evening or Thursday morning. And as our week up north progressed, I had all the while been remembering the Thursday morning flight. Come to find out, as serendipitously checked our itinerary Wednesday morning around 8am, that I was wrong and I’d booked the flight that evening. Crap.

Text messages and e-mails flew from the iPhone in a fury: Sharaun; we leave today, not tomorrow. Things were arranged; rides from the airport, packing, rides to the airport, rides from work to my folks’ place. Everything was planned and trimmed and faded just right. Then my dad had to go to the hospital unexpectedly (everything’s fine, just unplanned), and our shiny new plans began to unravel. The carseat was in his car; he was our ride to the airport; the car was what Sharaun was going to use to pick me up from work.

In the end, a buddy ducked out of our meeting early to give me a ride to the house; we had to abandon all hope of getting the carseat if we wanted to make our flight; and we had to make a hail Mary run for the airport train to beat the check-in and boarding deadline.

Thankfuly we were able to arrange a last minute pickup at the airport (from a picker-upper who was able to score a loaner carseat so we could be a road-legal family), and my folks are graciously shipping our seat back to us.

Harrowing, to be sure. But; we got home.

And, at home…

Thursday as I rounded the last corner on the way home from work, the steering wheel on the Ford locked up tight; turning became a test of all my arm strength. Somehow, I’d lost all power steering, and it was like trying to turn the wheels in wet cement. Fearing that Rusbuqeutte, the patron saint of junkyard cars, had abaondoned me, I muscled the aging beast through the last couple turns and into our garage. Lately, one of my biggest fears is that the Ford will give up the ghost just prior to me being able to take advantage of the new legislation I’ve been waiting on (need context?).

I shuttered as I shut off the car; could this be a game-ender for my intended endgame? Would I make out with the handout or wind up empty-handed? (Anyone see the effort here?)

Anyway, I topped off the power steering fluid on Friday (after a Keystone Cops style morning trying to get to work on time) and the beast sprang back to full loosey-goosey steerability. So, all is not lost. And, with each new failing I can’t help but think I should take my buddy Jeff’s advice and retire the thing now – only to drive it one last time: Up to the dealership to collect my cash-for-clunkers dosh and my new wheels.

We’ll see, I s’psose.

And, this weekend we’re running away to Yosemite and staying in the valley. I love going to Yosemite; it’s one of my all-time favorite destinations. We have three days this time (give or take accounting for travel), with one of them deducted to the “extremely strenuous” Half Dome day-summit – hence today’s accompanying picture.

I’ve done it before, but never in the marathon up-and-back, seventeen mile, leave in the dark return in the dark format. Here’s hoping for a not-too-crowded ascent of the cables, and a safe summit and return.

Wish me luck; goodnight.