a friday

Just the facts.Hey Monday.

A good weekend, and I’m happy to have traded an hour of sleep for the longer daylight in the evenings.  My head’s already lost in dreams of twilight barbecues and meals out on the patio while the kids run through the sprinklers.  Anyway, had dinner with friends Friday, spent the day working in the yard and garden with Keaton Saturday, and again dinner with friends, then cleaning the garage (again with Keaton as my helper) Sunday.  Let’s do some blogging.

As I mentioned, last Friday afternoon one of my old old buddies sent me a mail as the day wound down.  A simple note but it started a back-and-forth that culminated in rare phone call (dudes don’t call dudes, for the most part, ladies).  Before that phone call, I had been telling my buddy, his name’s Andy, by the way, that I wasn’t sure what I was doing with the evening but that I was about to have a post-work ready-for-the-weekend beer to wind down.  I even sent him a picture to prove it.  Then, during our call, I vowed  to document whatever the evening turned into in a series of e-mailed photos.

It turned out to be a fun Friday. A buddy IM’d from work around 3pm asking if I was barbecuing for him.  With that, the evening morphed into an impromptu gathering of friends, the first barbecue of the “season,” sampling of some homemade beers, and a rollicking game of Trivial Pursuit (can Trivial Pursuit “rollick?”).  I thought it might be fun to post the photos as I sent them to Andy, it’s a nice little diary of the evening… similar to what I did a year or so back with the “week in pictures” thing, I suppose.  Oh you don’t recall?  Look here, here, here, here, and here.

Here ya go:

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Man, I swear it wasn’t as booze-drenched as those pictures make it out to have been.  Was a good time though, and I think the pictures prove that out.

OK switching gears, music now.

The new Decemberists leaked over the weekend.  If you’ve been following this blog for any amount of time, and (for whatever reason) make it a point to read my pages and pages of rambling about music – you’ll know that every single record this Portland outfit has released has wound up on my personal year-end “best of” lists.  And really, hearing this, I’m near certain this release will be no exception to the rule.

A sprawling concent album, a tragic love story with humans-turned-animals and personified elements of nature (I’ve only been through it four times or so front-to-back yet)… it’s definitely a record you’d expect from The Decemberists.  When it comes out, you should get it.  Don’t illegal-download it (for preview purposes only) like I did, OK?

Yeah well, I’ve lost all continuity here.  I’m done.  Goodnight.

help get that Lupus all out peoples’ junk

Not Lupus.No real blog today.

I’m listening to the new Grizzly Bear, yeah it leaked.  The press is abuzz, calls for “album of the year” abound, a battle royale: Veckatimest in the blue trunks, Merriweather Post Pavilion in red.  Sure I’ve got it, I got it within hours of when it pre’d – I am that awesome, an IV into my mainline pumping leaks.  I don’t know though guys… sometimes Grizzly Bear sounds boring to me.  Slow, sleepy, boring.  I will grant you that the first half of the album is rather peppy… but so far the second “side” seems to have some sleepers…  I’ll give it more time, see what happens.

Did you guys know I have a dear friend who has Lupus?  I do.  Do you know what Lupus is?  (Hint: It’s not a werewolf… pretty sure).  Anyway, she appealed through her blog and I felt the cause worthy, so I’m linking here and hopefully sending you there to help get that Lupus all out peoples’ junk.  I think I missed the “official” day, but I asked and Sheila said better late than never.  Look, nobody has much love for debilitating, incurable diseases, right?  So go check it out, OK?  (Hey Sheila, it’s not a werewolf… right?)

What?  Midnight already?  Time to go to work again?  Is this not over for the week yet?  Man who threw me into this timewarp?  Goodnight.

call me cheap

Cheep?Broke down and did it; don’t hate.

My decision came over the weekend. Full lawn and landscaping, weekly; the all-out rich-guy level of service. I’ve now joined the ranks of the bourgeoisie, compensating a working class for work I’m totally able to do myself – but don’t. The “why” for the “but don’t” is what still bugs me. Laziness, I say. Busyness, some of my friends say (the pro-lawn service bunch). It’s somewhat due to being busy, sure… but maybe being busy being lazy. All comes down to a question of time. How much time do I spend monthly taking care of the yard, and what dollar amount do I feel my time is worth to me. I guess I broke down. Reality now is that I’m just not getting it done, so now I’m paying the price (literally).

And, if I wasn’t already feeling guilty/unsure enough about the whole thing, Sharaun said the man who came to walk our property and give the estimate inquired with her as to my level of laziness. His exact words, in her words, were, “So he doesn’t want to do nothing?” That’s right my good workman, I don’t want to do nothing. Believe me, it hasn’t always been that way. But… nowadays… I don’t want to do nothing.

As the service starts, and (hopefully) the yard begins to glow, I suppose I’ll be able to either justify the expenditure or not. As it stands now I feel good about it, mainly because I don’t have the guilt over the outstanding work hanging over my head anymore. I try and think about how nice it’ll be to not have to worry about getting the yard in order for a summer BBQ, and that makes me happy. Then I think about how relatively easy (albeit time-consuming) the work is to get done, and how I’m a no-good fatty-American for paying “workers” to do it for me. Sigh… it’s a moral quandary for me, as stupid as that seems. If you’re a friend of mine, make sure to mock me about it… just so I know you love me.

And, playing rich by outsourcing my yardwork got me thinking about money and budgeting on the whole… so I wrote the following.

A month or so ago I mentioned here that I’d cheaped-out and downgraded our satellite TV service to the lower-end “package.” In doing so, I lost some channels I enjoy (namely MSNBC and Fox News, mostly because I like to put them side-by-side using picture-in-picture and hear the 180° out-of-phase opinions of Hannity and Olberman completely cancel each other out), but nothing that was too hard to deal with. Thing is, that only took the bill from around $85 down to about $55. A good savings, to be sure, but $55 a month is hardly what I’d call a “deal” for TV – which is something I don’t want to feel compelled to watch in order to get our “money’s worth.” (See my rant about HDTV from back in me pre-HDTV days).

Anyway, I was complaining to friends the other day about the cost of “things” (more on that later), and someone mentioned that Dish now offers an “HD only” package on the cheap. Once I remembered this later in the week, I ran a check on their website and sure enough they are advertising an HD-only “bronze” package for $30 a month. Add $5 local channels to that, and the “privilege of having a DVR” fee of $6 and you can get out the door for $40 monthly. Sure you lose a few key standard-definition channels (Sharaun lobbied for MTV and VH1, Keaton for Backyardingans on Nickeldeon, and I was a little bummed to lose Comedy Central), but for a $15/month savings I figured we could either get Keaton some Backyardigans DVDs or have her start watching Handy Manny instead (plus, we still have ~60 episodes on the DVR). So, I did it.

Down to $40 a month. And you know what, I still think that’s too much to pay for TV.

In fact, thinking about it, I decided I know about what I want to pay for things – and wondered how close my dream-prices are to other folks’ ideas of what common services should cost. So for kicks, here are some common services that Sharaun and I pay for, and the price I feel like I should be paying to use them – not what we actually pay. This is just what “feels” right in my head for how much these things should cost, no more science behind it than that.  Check this:

  • Television, $30/month maximum
  • Broadband internet access, $50/month maximum
  • Cellular, $40/month per-person maximum

Yeah, and that was before I went all wallet-open and got a lawn service.  Seriously though, why should I have to pay more than $30 a month for TV?  I freakin’ shouldn’t.  And cellphone, much more than $40 a month for that seems like a blatant ripoff.  Call me cheap.  Maybe I am.

Goodnight.

cottonball marshmallows

Modeled after.For her birthday, Keaton got a fantastic little kiddie camping set.

All contained in a pink and purple backpack, she got a tent, a sleeping bag, a water bottle, and a flashlight.  She absolutely loves it; is seriously infatuated with it.   Originally I put it in the garage for storage (intending to break it out for some real camping trips later), but all weekend she begged me to set up the tent so she could put her babydolls to sleep in it.   On Monday when I got home from work she dogged me incessantly, lobbying hard for tent-setup in the playroom.  Eventually, I broke down.

I first grabbed an old coffee can from off the top of the fridge and handed it to her.  “C’mon,” I said, “We’ll need this to collect rocks for our fire ring.”  We went outside and walked over to the dry streambed landscaping feature I put in a year or so ago, where we claimed a canful of nice-sized rocks from the pile.  We took them inside and built our little fire ring beside the now assembled tent (with sleeping bag, and Kia, inside).  Thinking the campfire required just a bit too much imagination, I whipped up some fake tinder (rolled up pieces of old grocery sacks) and flames.  For the extra finish I ran an extension cord to an LED nightlight underneath the “sticks.”

Came out pretty good if I don’t say so myself…

So, I’m off to go camping with Keaton and her babydolls.  If you need us we’ll be roasting cottonball marshmallows on the end of chopsticks over our pretend fire, OK?

Sharaun & Keaton in nature.
Sharaun & Keaton in nature.

How’s that for roughing it?

‘Night.

at least it’s better than falafel balls

Yum.Happy Tuesday.

In our house, I handle the money.  I take care of our savings, investments, bills, budget, etc.  I do most of this in a vacuum, as Sharaun’s threshold for caring about money vs. not caring about money is simple: As long as there’s money available when she needs it then there’s not a money problem.  This works for us for a couple reasons: 1) We communicate about spending pretty openly and regularly, and 2) We’re both fairly cheap, frugal.  Yeah we’re not the most miserly of penny-pinchers, but we don’t spend excessively.

Lately, I’ve been trying to share the details and workings of our budget with Sharaun.  This involves some “training” on my complex household-finances spreadsheet.  When I’ve tried to review it with her, I can tell she’s just favoring me – pretending she cares how much of my paycheck goes to the 401k, what the margin is on our stock sales, etc.  It’s OK, at least she knows where the spreadsheet is and how to (sorta) read it.  She’ll never have to be in the business of changing the numbers, hopefully, so I guess that’s about all I need to ask of her anyway.

One positive result of this budget review is Sharaun looking for little ways to save money.  Part of this has seen her decide that planning a weekly “menu” of dinners is more cost-effective (in terms of the shopping required) than planning things quick day-of.  Subsequently, she’s started trying to map out our meals in advance, choosing a bunch of dishes she cooks semi-regularly anyway and assembling them into a canon of stock meals she can rotate through.  I’m not exactly sure how this saves money (other than the assumption that shopping strictly against a fixed list discourages impulse purchases), but it has sparked an idea for the blog…

See, Sharaun’s exercises in meal-planning remind me of my own childhood.  Wherein my Mom would make a weekly meal schedule, a “menu” if you will, and post it to the fridge for the family to see.  She’d have the nights of the week and what would be for dinner each night.  As I kid, I took this for granted.  It was nice being able to look forward to Thursday’s “chicken and wild rice casserole” on Monday, the elements of predictability and anticipation worked well, I think even encouraged the family to come together at mealtime (which wasn’t an option, we always ate together).

Near universally, I loved my Mom’s cooking (I never was too big on tuna casserole).  Culinarily, I’d say my Mom was a study of the famously checkered Better Homes cookbook, which, along with the Joy of Cooking and a handful of recipes passed down from her mom – made up the lion’s share of her drawn-on resources.  Of these cookbooks, I think she lingered mostly in the “casserole” and/or “quick & easy family friendly” chapters.  I imagine the 70s having played a large role in her cooking style, not only a decade in which the US went casserole-crazy, but the decade where I suppose she defined her meal repertoire as a wife and mother.  Now this isn’t to say that casseroles were all my mom cooked, it’s just that I remember a lot of them.

And, like I said, me not being a picky eater my Mom’s fare nearly always seemed palatable.  I loved the casseroles, the pork chops, the hamburgers, all of it.  And it didn’t matter to me that we rotated through what must have been a few week’s of stable-recipes – in fact I think I rather enjoyed having a favorite few dishes I could count on popping up every so often.  The regularity was a good thing.  And, when my Mom did decide, by whim or necessity or whatever, to break from the standard meal rotation and try something new – it was always a notable evening.

And, with the last sentence of that, my now sixth paragraph, I’ve setup the actual bit I wanted to write about.  Sometimes I might overdo the exposition… y’know?  Anyway…

Sharaun’s menu-planning got us talking about my Mom’s menu-planning the other night at dinner.  And, thinking about that reminded me of a story that our family sometimes still talks about to this day: The time my mom thought she’d go all exotic and try making falafel balls for dinner. Talk about a break from the dinnertime status-quo, falafel balls were about as far away from our typical repast as you could get.  Perhaps Mom wanted to add an international flare to mealtime, perhaps there was a “falafel is ultimate good for you” fad going around at the time (you know… the flaxseed, whole grain, no trans-fat, and steel-cut oats kinda fad).  Whatever the motivation, the results will live forever in dinner-table infamy for our our family.

The actual point here is that my Mom’s falafel balls turned out horrible.  Now, I can’t quite recall if this is because we simply agreed that we weren’t falafel people or if she actually botched the recipe and the resulting “balls” were inedible.  But either way, the family universally agreed that falafel balls were the worst thing ever. In fact, I still get a smile when I think about how we all choked down our hesitant bites at the dinner table, and can remember being a bit surprised by my folks’ open disgust at how badly they’d turned out (as a kid I guess I was somewhat stumped that my Mom’s feelings weren’t hurt, and that she was openly acknowledging how horrid her own creation was).

Point being that, from that meal on, no matter how bad anything we ate was – we could always joke that it was, at least, “not as bad as falafel balls.”  To this day I sometimes catch myself thinking that in my head when I don’t like something I’m eating.

“Hey, at least it’s better than falafel balls.”

I’m lucky now… Sharaun is an excellent chef, and has a wide selection of things she cooks for our family.  In fact, I’ve said to her on many occasion that I’ve not disliked anything she’s ever made for us – and I’m being honest.  Her meals are almost always enjoyable, and I always find myself grateful for the food she makes for Keaton and I.  I make sure and let her know that, and I think I do so fairly religiously after each meal. And, I’ve told her the falafel ball family apocrypha too – so maybe knowing that the low-mark on the bar is pretty dang low gives her that extra confidence.  Ha.

Well, I think I remembered that right… maybe the falafel balls were only a big deal in my head.

Goodnight!

time flies

3yoSunday afternoon and it’s raining.

Appropriately, Zeppelin’s “Rain Song” has shuffled up on the iPod.  This song always reminds me of walking to Robin’s house from mine, back around 8th grade or so.  My first real girlfriend.  Keaton’s got her head on my lap and I’m trying to pretend these stupid apple slices are as good a “snack” as the leftover piece of pizza in the fridge would be (being a salty-carbs-over-sweets-anyday guy, fruit as snacks just doesn’t cut it).

Sharaun’s been gone most of the afternoon, first at a baby shower and now at the the gym (where I’ll be later, I think).  That means I get a lot of time with Keaton.  OK so she napped for most of it, and I for a good bit too, but we did get some time hang out.  Keaton knows that Dad’s not much of a TV guy, and that when we’re home together (and whenever he can get away with it, really), he’s got tunes on rather than the television.  And lately she’s been asking more questions like, “Daddy, what are we listening to?,” and “Daddy, what band is this?”  For me this is simply thrilling; I love it.

So much so that I started teaching and quizzing her today, trying to see if she would repeat back the groups I’d name for her.  I was having so much fun hearing her exclaim things like, “But beetles can’t talk!,” and, “Butter-feel band,” (no, she seriously said those things) that I got out the iPhone and recorded the following exchange.  Thought it was worth posting, so here ya go:

[audio:PFloyd.mp3]
Talk about leading a guy on only to crush his fragile heart in the end!

Funny girl, that Keaton…

Oh, and, did I mention that Keaton had her big three-year-old birthday last week?  No, well she did.  Prompted by that event, I think, I added some new pictures to her gallery.  Make sure you head over there and check out what’s been going on in Keatonland for the past couple months.  Here’s the link, enjoy.

Goodnight.

stuck in the thicklebits

The thicklebits.The other day Keaton came running to Sharaun, seemingly in distress.

Mommy!!  Can you help me find Kia?!

You can’t find Kia?

No, she’s stuck in the thicklebits.

She’s stuck where?

In the thicklebits.

Now, if it were me on the receiving end of this conversation, I would just assume the “thicklebits” was a made-up three-year-old word (albeit a nicely-phrased one, with the assonance and whatnot).  But Sharaun, she’s more in-tune with the Keaton-mind than am I.

Immediately, she recognized the “thicklebits” as a Keaton-esque mis-pronunciation of a Backyardigans tune.  Apparently, in a certain episode where the intrepid Tasha, Uniqua, Tyrone, Pablo, and Austin are about to trek off into the deepest regions of a dark jungle, they sing a song that goes something like this…

Into the thick of it. Into the thick of it.
Into the thick of it. Ugh!
We’re tramping through the bush.
On and on we push. Into the thick of it,
But we can’t see where we’re going.
We’ve made a stellar start.
To find the jungle’s heart.
But all we’ll find is nothing,
If we can’t see where we’re going!
Into the thick of it.
Into the thick of it. Into the thick of it.
But we can’t see where we’re going!
Into the thick of it.
Into the thick of it. Into the thick of it.
But we can’t see where we’re going! Ugh!
The jungle’s kind of tricky,
The path is never straight,
And sometimes there’s no path at all
Which makes it hard to navigate.
Although the jungle’s thick,
We’re moving through it quick.
But that won’t do us any good
If we’re going around in circles.
Into the thick of it.
Into the thick of it. Into the thick of it.
We’re going round in circles! Ugh!
These trees look so familiar,
We’ve been here once before.
You’re right, except it wasn’t once
It was three times, or four.
Stuck in the thick of it!
Stuck in the thick of it!
Stuck in the thick of it!
We’ve gone around in circles

And so was solved the mystery of the “thicklebits.”

Like I said, I think it’s a great word; and I’ve taken to saying it all the time now when I want to refer somewhere way-far-off-lost.  Like, “I can’t find the matching left sock for my black pair, it’s like it’s lost in the thicklebits,” or, “Did you hear that weirdo talking about the stimulus, was his brain off in the thicklebits or what?”

Goodnight internet.