M. always gets her way. At least when it comes to music in the car. Perhaps it is because she knows how to shout the phrase “I WANT M. MUSIC” continuously until we play Laurie Berkner. Anyway, I thought it was telling when I made an immediate transition after dropping M. off at pre-school today. On the way to school, it was Laurie Berkner and friends. On the two-minute drive home, C.
I think I’ve vaguely touched upon the fact I was lining up a writing gig. It’s been confirmed for about two weeks, but I was waiting until all the paperwork was complete and I had my first assignment before I shared it with the world. This Saturday I will return to my earliest journalism roots and start covering high school sports for a local paper. I’ll be starting with a bang, too, as the first game I’ve been assigned will be played at the RCA Dome downtown.
(This was supposed to be posted Friday. I made the list mentally Thursday, then when I sat down to put it together, had a total brain cramp on one entry in the list. Naturally I remembered it over the weekend, so here’s my delayed list.) Thursday I saw my first movie at a theater in over two years. I saw the Wedding Crashers while my brother-in-law was in town in August of ‘05.
I was dumb for even thinking it. For some reason, since M. only used the word “why” occasionally, I thought we might miss out on the endless repetition of that word. Sadly, however, she’s come down with a bad case of the Whys. All of a sudden, she’s saying it roughly every 7.5 seconds. I blame those little monsters she shares her preschool classroom with. Who knows what other horrid habits she’s going to pick up from them.
Rick Ankiel. Apparently I’m supposed to be shocked, appalled, devastated, and disappointed by the revelations that Cardinal outfielder Ankiel received shipments of HGH three years ago. Over the weekend the sports pages, airwaves, and blogosphere were full of people expressing strong sentiments about the news. I kept wondering why. First, I didn’t understand why Ankiel wasn’t subjected to the same assumptions that any other baseball player who suddenly performs at an exceptional level is subjected to.
No list of best albums is complete without a Beatles disk. I say that as someone who really didn’t like the Beatles for most of my life, finally learning about and appreciating their genius over the last five years or so. (My dislike for the Beatles was perhaps the first manifestation of my contrarian side. When I was little, my parents and their friends listened to the Beatles all the time, so I got sick of them and decided I didn’t like them.
Big day today in la casa de B. It was M.’s first day of preschool and C.’s first day of class at Gymboree. As I have shared before, we’ve been working hard the last two weeks to get M. to understand that we would be dropping her off at preschool and leaving - no mommies or daddies allowed inside. She seemed to grasp the concept, but we were both a little worried about how her reaction would be when the time came to leave her behind.
All great bands must have an album that changes all the rules, destroys all expectations, and challenges their fans to open their minds to something new and unexpected. Achtung Baby was exactly that for U2, marking a dramatic shift from the sound they perfected on 1987’s The Joshua Tree. While U2 could have kept cranking out the same sound, and selling tens of millions of albums in the process, they looked to the changes in Europe and to the changes in their own lives and decided to take a dramatically different path for the next full studio album (Worth noting the 1988’s Rattle & Hum had some studio tracks on it, some of which were quite good.
Remember a while back when I mentioned a new gimmick of lists of five things I would be dropping on you? Haven’t seen list #2 yet, have you? Well, there is an explanation. This list is a biggie, and I’ve been struggling with how to properly roll it out to you. I’ve finally figured out how I want to do it, so hopefully we’ll get back on track. This one is a multi-edition list.
It’s fun to watch the girls as they develop their verbal skills and vocabularies. M. is making a leap in logical ability and saying things she’s not heard before because she understands that the words can fit what she’s trying to say. C., on the other hand, has reached the point where 15-20 words and sounds just isn’t enough, and each day means something new and recognizable comes out of her mouth.
Sunday was a big day for M.: she got to go and meet her preschool teacher, some of her classmates, and see her classroom. To say she was excited was an understatement. It had already been a big weekend, with three of the out-of-town aunts coming home for a wedding shower, and one of her out-of-town uncles coming back as well. Plus, we had been talking up going to see her class for a couple weeks, so by Sunday afternoon, she was ready to go.
As I’ve related, things on the professional side of your humble blogger’s life have been looking ever-so-slightly up lately. In addition to my regular editing work, there is the much-agonized over book I’ve been editing (working on my final skim now), another small project a friend tossed my way, and then there’s something that will involve regular writing that I’ll be interviewing for later this week. Just the way I want to plan my professional life for the next few years: a number of small projects that A) keep me busy, B) keep enough cash coming in to justify my many purchases at the Apple Store, and C) put me in a position to easily transition in to a more vigorous writing/editing lifestyle when all our kids are in school.
Today M. went in for her three year check up. For some reason, they wanted me to fill out a new information form (there are two new receptionists, so my theory was the old one took all their records, or had a horrible system they’re revamping). I got to the line for my Social Security Number and totally blanked. I can name my last four digits no problem, since it seems like every credit card and utility uses that as a security feature.
S. and I realized something earlier this week: this is the last holiday we can ever half-ass. From here on out, M. is going to demand big productions of one kind or another. After four months of preschool, she’ll be fully prepared to work us over at Christmas. So we enjoyed one, last laid-back holiday as we celebrated her birthday Wednesday. M. said some funny things Wednesday. For example, she told us all about how before she was born she was teeny-tiny and in her momma’s belly, and Dr.
With M.’s birthday just two days away and S. working tomorrow night, I selected Monday night to assemble the birthday gift that needed assembling. No hints (I’ve caught M. trying to break my password to wake up the Mac several times), but I envisioned Christmases Future as I struggled to put this thing together. What was most maddening was the instruction sheet. Not a word of description anywhere on it, all pictographs.
Actually, I don’t think this is tao at all, but I’ve noticed something in recent weeks: The more kids you have, the harder it is to keep your house clean.
Burmese Days - George Orwell. I read this book primarily because I saw an interesting looking travel book at Borders that is about following Orwell’s trail in modern Burma. I figured I needed the background before I could justify buying it. This is no where near as good as Orwell’s more famous works - 1984, Animal Farm - but still presents an interesting and remarkable critique of the British empire during its final glory days during the inter-war period.
Posting as I listen to the new Crowded House album… We took the girls to the magnificent, opulent, new city pool here in Carmel Monday. I think the city spent something like $800 million on it (slight exaggeration) and still has the nerve to charge residents to use it. Anyway, it’s loaded with all kinds of stuff: a kiddie pool, a lap pool, a hybrid pool that is for bigger kids and feeds into a normal pool, a dive and slide pool, a lazy river (which of course was not working), and then a huge water slide.
Literally a shitty day. We went through at least a dozen diapers and pull-ups today. I’m expecting anti-pollution people to picket our house tomorrow because of all the waste. When we got the girls out of bed this morning, they had each managed to remove their diapers. M.’s bed was just soaked. I’ll spare the details, but C.’s was far worse, and at 5:00 AM to boot. Not every day of parenthood can be lemonade and cotton candy, I guess.
I tend to get stuck on specific memories occasionally. I’ll call up some image from the past and it becomes a dominant thought for a couple days. I’m never sure if this is a sign, and if it is a sign what it means, or just how my brain works. For example, last fall I went through an extended phase where I kept thinking of the fall of 1994, when my roommate got a Mac and we were discovering the strange world of AOL.