muiseam

The Science Of Sleep

2011-06-01T20:50:00.003-03:00

So Henry is one week shy of 6 months old.

He is a jumperoo-jumping, one-tooth-having, baby deck shoe-wearing, mini Aaron doppelganger. He is also still not sleeping through the night. I can't recall when Lydia began sleeping through the night, but if she was by this point I wouldn't be surprised. I know you're not supposed to compare your children, but let's: even at this young age, Mr. Henry is far more aggressive than Little Miss was/is. Where Lydia sounded sad and pitiful (albeit loud) while lying in bed whinging, Henry sounds angry - grunting, seething, screaming. He kicks. He squirms, He rolls. He jams his legs in the rungs of the crib. It takes an entirely different part of your brain to talk yourself into leaving things be. I daresay it's harder. And then if/when you pick him up, he's immediately back to his typical smiley charming self ("What crying? Me?")...

Our new tact - fill his belly with heavy pureed veggies and meats and cereals. Two days in, it seems to be working a little better. And if things take a turn for the worse - I'm going to puree an entire turkey and pour it into him. Always seems to work for me.

In other sleep-related news: the Stanley Cup finals have just started, thereby ensuring at least four relatively late nights for yours truly.

EDIT: Yay! Henry slept through the night last night, or at least from 11:00 PM to 6:30 AM – despite the massive thunderstorms and howling winds and lightning. Ironically and unfortunately, Lydia was scared awake by the epic electrical storm and thus did not sleep through the night. Boo! Her description of the thunder: “it sounded like a lion growling in the grass”. End groggy transmission.

Captain's Log - May 27

2011-05-27T10:36:00.001-03:00

My birthday started off pretty good - Cannonball was playing on the radio when I climbed into the car, Terri had made me a lunch, the cats didn't piss on the floor - but quickly devolved with an hour-and-a-half wait alongside all of the silver foxes at the hospital (for blood collection). As a depressed/depressing group, we collectively watched the Canada AM news loop three times over. Did you know that there is a family in Toronto trying to raise their baby to be gender-less? Did you know that Seamus likes "One Night In Bangkok"? Did you know that RBC made $1.506B this quarter? I do. The grey team does, too.

Despite being at work, the day has picked up considerably - now that I am allowed to eat (I had to fast for blood collection). A phone message from the fam was nice, too. Lydia can do a pretty bang on Wiggles Australian accent - "G'day squirrel" - that makes me laugh every time.

Tonight - dinner. Tomorrow night - gamez night. Sunday - lobster.

And now, if I may, in a bit of birthday blog narcissism - here are my All-Time Top 10 Favourite Beastie Boys songs:

1 - So What'Cha Want
2 - Professor Booty
3 - Three Minute Rule
4 - Shake Your Rump
5 - Get It Together
6 - Hey Ladies
7 - Sure Shot
8 - Something's Got To Give
9 - Flute Loop
10 - Root Down

Oi!

Busy Times

2011-05-25T22:26:00.002-03:00

Daddy-Daughter Week

2011-05-18T22:05:00.003-03:00

Sooooo... Moms and Henry have split town for Fort Mac to visit her Dad, leaving Lydia and me to take care of things on the home front. Contrary to sitcom stereotypes we have not barricaded ourselves indoors behind an overturned mattress, nor are we running around pants-less on floors lined with garbage bags (tempting though it may be), nor are we surviving solely on a diet of pop and cake (although we have been eating a potentially-unhealthy amount of Cheerios, pizza and grilled cheese sandwiches). No, life has been relatively civil, albeit with much less adult conversation and much more yelling at pixelated Skype images through choppy microphones.

Daddy-Daughter week began with a three-year old's bouncey castle birthday party, which was followed by a rainy day trip to the Discovery Centre, a day at the Natural History Museum, and nights at both grandparents'. The plan was to keep Little Miss as busy as possible with fun activities so that she might not get upset Mom was gone. Well, between the jam-packed schedule and the Skype-ness, mission accomplished. If there have been any indications that Lydia might be missing her mother and brother - aside from a few "where's Mom?"s and "is Henry sleeping?"s (and even those have stopped) - I haven't been able to detect them. Sorry Mom, and sincerely, phew.

That being said - the week is only half over, and I have probably just jinxed everything...

Sorry, Moms

2011-05-09T20:41:00.002-03:00

Happy belated Mother's Day, moms. Mother's Day weekend in our household was pretty subdued/messy/pitiful on account of (a) everyone being sick, (b) Henry deciding to boycott sleeping for more than one hour at a time, and (c) me breaking out in my second ever cold sore. Many tears were shed, and much mysterious fluid leaked from my face.

Best. Mother's Day. Ever.

My attempts at making the day special started with my burning Terri's toast and scrambled eggs (however the hell you do that), and ended with my setting fire to several thick, perfectly marinated pork chops, which were left unattended on the barbeque for mere minutes. Again, many tears were shed and much mysterious fluid leaked from my face. Sigh.

And the good times continue to roll - today we all stayed home, sick and snotty, and tried to sleep and recuperate in general. With those stated intentions, today was a failure - but not without its high points: Terri made some great squash soup, and our one family outing was to the pet store to check out the gold fish.

Let's hope Father's Day comes sees us healthier...

Sportscentre: Cole Harbour

2011-05-03T21:52:00.003-03:00

Let's talk about my company hockey tournament. I play in it every year, and while it used to be a goldmine for drunken ref-punching debauchery and teste-flashing fat old guy stories, it has since settled down somewhat, with the hiring of actual referees (instead of volunteers) and a change of venue (out of Eastern Passage).

Well, what this year's tournament lacked in drunken violence and nudity, it more than made up for in DISGUSTING INJURIES.

See: two opposing players collide in front of our net - the helmet of one player smooshing the face of the other, driving his front teeth through his top lip, busting up his nose and leaving him dizzy and bloody on the ice. After a short stint in the"quiet room", he returned to finish the game, possibly concussed, with a mosaic of steri-strips holding his face skin together...

Then there was our defenseman who fell circling the net and dislocated his shoulder. Writhing and screaming on the ice, he managed to pop it back into place like a lanky Canadian Riggs (apparently this used to happen all the time). Maybe inspired by the bloodied opposition (see above), said D-man stayed on the bench and felt strong enough to play the next shift. Perhaps unsurprisingly, after colliding with an opposing player on an unsuccessful end-to-end rush, he dislocated the shoulder again and was not able to shake it back into position. Much screaming and stomach-turning ensued...

Ick (and that's not mentioning the bruised ribs and bloody noses and miscellaneous slashes-to-the-groin)...

Aye, but it was all in good fun!

BOING!

2011-04-23T21:53:00.003-03:00

It's Easter, or "second Christmas", and the kids are all-a hopped up on sugar and presents and visiting and parties. Even Henry, who had his first dose of non-human milk foodstuff today. And his response - enthusiastic kicking and squealing, followed by, thankfully for all, longer napping.

Yay!

Raves

2011-04-17T11:14:00.002-03:00

Say Hello To Henry (Day 127)

2011-04-14T10:19:00.002-03:00

Henry is a shade over 4 months old now, and a giant among infants. Acquaintances have mistaken him for a toddler. Strangers have fled for safety. Local scouts have been sizing him up for the 2012 CFL entry draft. He is wearing clothing for 12-month olds, and diapers for horses. Terri is going to start him on solids early because why not. And now, if drool flow rate is any indication, it seems he may be teething (whether they will be adult teeth remains to be seen).

Henry can now reach for, clutch and grab items in front of his face, and - just like Lydia - brings them straight to his mouth. Toys that are attached to, say, his exer-saucer or seat and can not reach his mouth get yelled at until Mom or Dad intervene. Little Man has yet to roll over or sit up on his own, but this is not for lack of trying - both on his part and ours (we try to guide him with Sophie the squeaky giraffe). Bathing Henry is becoming something of a challenge because he spends much of the time trying to sit up from his bathing "recliner". It looks like he's doing baby crunches; Henry is wants to have a solid core. The rest of his time in the bath is spent kicking and splashing and giggling at his own kicking and splashing.

While not yet sleeping through the night, Henry is still pretty laid back. He coos and smiles and laughs pretty easily, but is starting to get a little weird (read: fussy, not King's weird) when he finds that he is in the arms of someone who is not his Mom or Dad. Lydia went through a similar phase, and all broken hearts have since mended…

Meanwhile, Lydia has taken to obsessing over "scary" books (and hiding and bed jumping and cartoons and babies) - specifically a Disney Jungle Book story and a Snow White board book (which she has memorized). The Jungle Book story has Mowgli being tormented and chased by evil monkeys and Kaa the Python, and I made the mistake of saying that it might be a little too scary for her. Well, of course, now she wants to read it every night, leaving Mom and Dad to make up happy words for images of a little boy being strangled by a snake and left for dead in a deep pit by said evil monkeys. Our interpretation changes each night, so I'm sure Lydia has no idea how the story goes - but she loves it. As for Snow White, in her words, "the Wicked Queen is meeeean... but she's got a pretty dress!"

Little Miss's love of handling plastic babies has been carefully applied to both Henry and her new cousin Michael, and her parenting skills honed on her two dinosaur toys, Steggy and Chachi, whom she bathes and puts to bed each night. She has also been found, on occasion, pretending to breastfeed her dolls (not dinosaurs). She even burps them. Her attention to detail is noteworthy…

In other news, two of my closer friends have had babies in recent weeks and I have yet to make any non-Facebook contact with them. And I'm feeling the guilt. Damn you distractions and convenient impersonal social networking! No excuses...

Les Youppis! (Playoff Edition)

2011-04-13T12:45:00.002-03:00

Ladies and gentlemen, behold Les Youppis! (2011 Playoff Edition):

Tim Thomas, BOS
Ryan Kesler, VAN
Alexandre Burrows, VAN
Jordan Staal, PIT
Kris Letang, PIT
James Neal, PIT
Brad Marchand, BOS
Drew Stafford, BUF
Toni Lydman, ANA
Cam Fowler, ANA
Marc-Edouard Vlasic, SJ
Derek Stepan, NYR

You'll notice no Habs and a few Bruins. My heart is broken nut my eyes are on the prize.

Ommm.

La La Love You

2011-04-11T21:35:00.004-03:00

So I saw the Pixies on Saturday - and it was pretty great. I was sober, driving, old. We sat at the back, in the lower bowl, where we were able to watch the audience dance and scream and sing along ("chien!").

By no means was I the youngest. There were many older men and ladies - grey, denim-clad, balding, bespectacled (the same vintage as the band, really). We all sat together - holding hands and swaying. It was pretty great.

Seriously though - all of Doolittle played in succession? Tame. Number 13 Baby. Here Comes Your Man. Hey! The sound was fantastic. The visuals, save for the gratuitous (albeit not unexpected) shot of "slicing up eyeballs" (oh-ho-ho-ho!), also fantastic. Frank Black yipped and screamed and barked. Kim Deal handled the banter and the bass. Joey Santiago's guitar was loud, clashing, melodic - all in the right places. The drummer did his thing and sang that song. The show had few surprises, which surprised no one.

As a Saturday out, as a concert experience... pretty great.

(Not much of a concert review, I know...)

Brunch Kills

2011-04-02T18:57:00.004-03:00

I.e. leads to caffeine overdoses and unnecessary suppers - but it is always fantastic at the time. And it was.

PS: I love weekends - the napping, the loafing, the brunching, the coffee, the visiting, the occasional productive afternoon, the sports, the guilt free beers. Love it.

Baby Michael!

2011-03-29T21:39:00.006-03:00

Aaron and Terri and Lydia and Henry want to welcome our new nephew/cousin baby Michael Paul to the family, and to congratulate his parents, Tamara and Danny. Welcome, congrats!

Lydia and Henry and the fam all stopped by the hospital to see the new addition and his happy, exhausted Mom and Dad - who unfortunately are stuck in a shared, semi-private room. Boo.

Michael was active and awake and sucking on his hands for most of the day, we were told, but for the brief time we were there, he simply snoozed - barely even twitching as he was passed from waiting arms to waiting arms. He felt like a feather.

Lydia was typically shy in the crowd of people, but not so shy that she couldn't push her way through to peer and poke and coo at her doll-sized cousin. Meanwhile Henry, at 17 lbs, looked downright gargantuan next to Michael's 6 lbs 8 oz. Also, he had no idea what was going on - he's only 4 months old.

Here's hoping everyone has a safe and somewhat restful night.

OMG!

2011-03-27T12:18:00.001-03:00

Community, eh?

2011-03-25T21:16:00.006-03:00

I just watched this week of Community - the Pulp Fiction episode - and it might just be my favourite one yet. And those are pretty big words from someone who has yet to really dislike an episode. The show has a real sentimental undertone, that I suppose would be kind of off-putting and distracting if you came in cold-turkey and were expecting something more along the lines of 30 Rock - but I feel like they really nailed it in this episode, which is a nice companion piece to The Godfather episode they did last season.

Geez, I just wanted to come on here and gush and now I sound all critic-y. Anyways, it's worth watching just to see Chevy Chase dressed as The Gimp and saying "I'm hot and my balls are touching a zipper", although my favourite line is from Joel McHale re: how ants communicate ("by vomiting chemicals into each others mouths"). But if you haven't seen, you probably won't find that funny.

Checkitout.

Twitter Withdrawl

2011-03-19T21:09:00.005-03:00

Oh, Twitter - some days I kind of miss you. Blogger doesn't quite lend itself to publishing my by-the-minute random half-thoughts/astute observations, and I do have a lot of half-thoughts, which don't always go over so well when spoken out loud. At least when I published them to Twitter, I couldn't actually see the rolling eyes and dismissive body language.

To think of all the viral videos I am missing or catching late. I didn't even know about this whole "Friday" phenomenon until, well, Friday - entire days late. And half-thoughts? This entire blog is based on a half-thought - both the blog in general (which was initially called "Rotary Phones" and intended to document my reminiscing of the 80s and 90s) and this particular post.

Now when I sit down to type something, all that comes out is kids stuff (fine), or I complain about the pressure I put on myself to keep this blog going, which can't be terribly exciting to read. If I hadn't exiled myself from the bottomless timewaste/snarkfest that is Twitter, I could have an outlet for my "clever" non-sequiturs, and they wouldn't be building up, nagging me, affecting my chi. For example, I could be noting how bizarre it is to be seeing the Leafs winning a game (as they are now). Or I could be commenting how Lydia has taken to naming all of her stuffed animals and toys "Chachi" for some reason. Or I could be complaining about the increasing ridiculousness of mens haircuts in television commercials nowadays. Or I could be lauding the new J. Mascis (great!) in 140 characters or less.

Or something like that.

I suppose I'm better off. Stay tuned for more cute pictures of Lydia and Henry.

Downtime

2011-03-11T20:40:00.005-04:00

What to say? It is 9:00 on a Friday. Both kiddies have finally settled and I'm drinking a beer, perusing the net - just like old times! Let's update, shall we?

Henry: this boy is, apparently, enormous. He is just over 3 months old and weighs half as much as Lydia, who is 26 months his senior. That is to say he is over 15 pounds and wearing clothing for 12 month olds. He can also dunk. Bam! As for his insane bowel movement schedule (sorry Henry, and everyone else) - instead of having one single continuous BM, all day every day, Henry saves it all up for 3-4 days. The result: having to literally cut Mr. Henry out of his clothing for an emergency mid-day bath. It's like he's trying to hide from the Predator (that joke was disgusting, and nerdy, and it probably didn't make sense). He has also laughed (see pic two posts below), and is pretty good to smile on command. Babies, man... babies.

Lydia: her new obsessions are (i) jumping on the bed, (ii) watching Toopy & Binoo and (iii) sitting on the toilet and pretending to read fashion magazines - all of which can, and are, used as stall tactics when pressured to do, well, anything but jumping on the bed, watching Toopy & Binoo or sitting on the potty. To be fair, though, Toopy & Binoo is pretty funny. She can also read me a story, or at least pretend to while looking at the familiar pictures. Hers is a memory not yet stunted by alcohol and late nights and loud music. Toddlers, man... toddlers.

Cleo: still fat.

Tank: still pretty annoying.

My laptop: almost out of disk space and brutally slow. It gives me anxiety. It is an anxiety machine.

REM: have a new album out, and I probably won't buy it or listen to it. I gave up after Up.

My fantasy hockey team: Les Youppis! are solid in fourth place (of 12), sitting firmly in playoff position. My goalies now include Boucher (PHI) and Reimer (TOR, ugh); Halak was shipped off in a trade for a dizzy Brad Richards. I like my chances, or I at least like to tell myself that I like my chances. Either way - from your perspective, I like my chances.

Pixies: I'm-a goin!

There. If you care.

Behold

2011-03-07T16:21:00.001-04:00

And now, you're up to date...

Words to follow.

First LOL: Male Edition

2011-03-06T21:06:00.004-04:00

Yesterday this happened:

A giggle. And all it took was several minutes of shameless goofy mugging by Mom and Dad. This feat has yet to be recreated, but not for lack of trying...

Stay tuned for more pictures of my kids than you can handle/likely want. I have a few hours free tomorrow evening (traveling), so I should be good to flood the site with all of those long-requested Henry shots.

In My Defence

2011-03-02T19:05:00.000-04:00

Last night Terri said that we’re not taking enough pictures of Henry, and she is probably right – pictures of Lydia after 3 months probably number in the thousands, or close to it. So: why only a few hundred pics of Henry?

Favoritism? Nope…

Diminished novelty? Nope – milestones are milestones and cute babies are cute babies, even if we have seen them before. Henry’s smile is no less special because Lydia smiles too…

Exhaustion? Maybe a little – the evenings are pretty tiring, busy and booked with routines. That said, the effort to grab a camera from the drawer and snap a few quick pics of Henry splashing in his tub or ogling his toys or snoozing is minimal…

Free time? See above. Maybe. Happy family photo time is not really built into our evening routines, although I suppose it could be…

Free hands? A-ha, this. While Terri is settling or feeding Henry, I am usually entertaining Lydia, or vice versa. Likewise, while one child is in the bath, the other is either being prepped for the bath or being put to bed. Further, if Henry is asleep, I don’t want to take my chances waking him with a click and a flash. And for those moments that Lydia is asleep and Henry is up, one of us is usually cleaning up after said evening routines, or cleaning the cat litter, or cleaning the stove, or folding the laundry, or (insert other miscellaneous domestic responsibilities). Noted: make effort.

New camera? Also this. When Lydia was born, we had just picked up our current trusty DSLR and fancy flash. New baby plus new camera equals many many (many) photos.

See, Henry, it’s nothing personal.

True Stories From My Subconscious Badass

2011-02-23T10:18:00.001-04:00

Last night I woke up at 4:15 - Henry was stirring. I tossed and turned for the next few hours before drifting off to a fleeting sleep, wherein I dreamt I was shirtless and covered in tattoos, and sitting, sneering, in the baking heat in the backseat of some random car. In this car, in close quarters, were another random dude and another random woman, also covered in tattoos. We were parked on the patchy yellow lawn of a dilapidated old trailer, huddled and comparing our tattoos. It was like a scene from Spun, or a Rancid video, although I cannot confirm if I was wearing mall punk eyeliner.

In said dream, I had two colourful sleeves of overlapping tattoos - some were unrealistically bright and clear, others were fading and peeling, some were nearly translucent and only visible in certain light, and I think some moved around on my arm, as I expect Harry Potter's tattoos would, if he had tattoos. My artwork included Barney and Betty Rubble, and the Hurley bird from Lost, and fading leopard prints over my shoulders. It was badass.

Then I woke up, in my suburban bedroom, with a cat at my feet and the kids snoring through the monitors. I sneered.

(Thankfully unrelated) PS: Big congrats to Drew and Colleen on the birth of baby Cameron!

A Typical Evening

2011-02-18T21:16:00.002-04:00

Typed to the sounds of sleeping children and Jason Molina and eating cats and reading ~~wives~~ ~~wife~~ Terri. Om.

The Many Faces Of Henry Albert

2011-02-15T21:04:00.003-04:00

Giddy. Scared. Bashful. Silly. Serious. Pouty. Chretien. Cute. Ladies and gentlemen:

Transmissions From The Sick House

2011-02-12T11:57:00.002-04:00

It all started with a runny nose. Lydia's runny nose, to be precise, the contents of which were passed from nose to sleeve to hand to godknowswhere, and eventually everyone in the house is coughing and wheezing and tired and cranky. This includes Henry, who hasn't quite mastered the skill of coughing, so each involuntary hack is quickly followed by an annoyed cry, under which one can clearly make out the uncomfortable rattle in his chest and pained longing for a clear breathing passage. It's tragic.

Meanwhile, Mom and Dad are coping (one better than another) with the sinus headache-induced bickering, with our interrupted sleep more interrupted than usual, with Valentine's plans postponed due to an uncontrollable (and unromantic) launching of snot rockets, with minimal motivation to do anything more than a cursory tidy and collapse into bed. It's tragic.

At least I have the DVR, and four hours of sick time remaining in the fiscal.

How I Feel

2011-02-11T20:10:00.000-04:00

When The Going Gets Tough, Aaron Gets Whiny

2011-02-02T20:54:00.004-04:00

Last night - after spending about an hour mopping up water from our leaking furnace and making small talk with the lanky, bird-faced repairman - I looked in the mirror and came to the realization that: man, I really am getting old. No joke. Maybe it was the light - but my dry, wrinkled face and collapsed cheeks and dead-eyed reflection brought to mind an aged Martin Landau, circa yesterday. Or, alternatively, the creepy old dude with the grody man-tits from Metallica's Unforgiven video.

I agree, 33 is a little young to be making these kinds of statements, but it was such a shocking image: me. Plus, between settling one child while trying to not wake or upset the other, and cleaning up, and preparing for the next day, and handling the daily aged house emergency, and shoveling out from the latest blizzard - it's hard to find time to do the things that make me feel young. Like watching hockey and drinking a beer and blogging (as I am now). Or reading about what all the cool kids are up to. Or eating animal crackers and colouring.

I guess what I'm trying to say is... I dunno. Whine.

EDIT: this post should not be interpreted as me complaining about my family, but rather, me complaining about everything else. Oh - what's that? You don't come here to read about my grody man-tits? You want cute baby pictures... okay.

Dead Blog Is Not Dead

2011-01-27T20:50:00.005-04:00

Sorry team. It has been hard to find time to maintain this lately, as you might expect. I promise to try harder in the coming days and weeks to get back up to speed. In short, though, here is what has been up:

- Henry continues to grow, continues to cause women to woo, and continues to look like me as a baby. He can now be coerced into smiling (but not on camera, oddly), and his rate of defecation has slowed to a reasonably containable rate - much like the final weeks of the BP oil spill. Operation 'Feed Baby Lots Of Cheese' has been a resounding success! Kidding (obviously).

- Meanwhile, Lydia is still happy, still fun (see below). She still pronounces her L's as Y's and her Sm's as P's (for some reason). Anecdote: the other week, she was sitting next to me with a loaded diaper, and she looked up to me and said "You pell sumpin'?" Yes. Yes I did.

- My Action Sampler camera (see four-in-one pics below) has died once again. This would be the second, and last. Frustrated = me. Hopefully I managed to get a few good WROCK shots from my recent cathartic guitar jamz session before it died, to accompany these:

Stay tuned for more parenting stories and other miscellaneous inanity...

I'll Bring Home The Turkey

2011-01-20T20:58:00.004-04:00

If you bring home the bacon!

Who remembers when Weezer was fun?

They should write and record more songs like this. Sez me.

Also - apparently this is happening in Halifax shortly...

Initial Results

2011-01-15T20:02:00.001-04:00

...from my new Action Sampler Flash camera. See foolishness below.

The New Routines

2011-01-14T12:37:00.003-04:00

Hey all - sorry about the lack of posts of late. My evenings are typically my blog update times, and well, as one might expect, they have been overtaken by much diaper changing, swaying, shushing, bathing, emergency soother locating, sweeping, cleaning, prepping, sitting and breathing. Any free time that finds its way through the above maze of parental and other OCD-related activities is spent catching up on mah sports, idly surfing the internet, reading or snow-shoveling...

Further to that, there hasn't really been much to discuss; Henry is still a remorseless eating/sleeping/shitting machine, still a cuddly, sleep-inducing furnace, still a baby - albeit a rapidly-growing one. His one month weight-in had him at 10 lbs 10 oz, which I'm told is large. He is essentially shredding through his clothes like a pissed little Bruce Banner (aka, The Hulk), but thankfully not the authentic Montreal Canadiens RBK edge wear he got from his Grandfather...

In precocious toddler news: Lydia has added a few new words to her vocabulary, namely "penis", "penis tent", "pee-pee tee-pee", and "scrotum". Yes, baby bath times and change times are educational fun times. I only hope that while at the sitter's and in public these words are used within context, or alternately, at very low volumes.

Terri and I - we have nothing to report. Carry on. Send cookies.

Today's Special

2011-01-06T21:07:00.002-04:00

Tea parties and stall tactics:

2010: The Year In Earworms

2011-01-03T22:32:00.008-04:00

Currently:

I won't lie - that song is catchy as hell and the singing banana is all kinds of awesome, as is Super Grover. As far as children's programming is concerned, you can't do much better than Sesame Street (non-Elmo Sesame Street, though).

Other earworms of note: this song was my head for the entire 29 hours spanning Terri's water breaking to the arrival of Henry...

Mind you - that was before I knew they looked like the Spin Doctors featuring Edie Brickell. Not that it matters mind you, but, man... HIPPIES!

Finally, I am fairly positive that the following might be the most addictive songs ever. At any given moment, one of these two songs are likely bouncing around my brain and/or being whistled by me, loudly. Apologies in advance.

2010: The Year Of The Aaron As Somewhat More Mature Man Child

2010-12-31T22:48:00.007-04:00

2010, for yours truly, was a good year, a very good year... a very, very, very good year. I shall dub 2010: "The Year Of The Aaron As Somewhat More Mature Man Child". During the past year, I:
- first and foremost, scored a bigger family;
- (finally) saw the conclusion to Lost;
- witnessed the Habs upset the Capitals in the first round of the playoffs;
- won my playoff hockey pool (see above);
- became addicted to Twitter, then quit Twitter, thereby demonstrating at least some level of self-control;
- became somewhat more comfortable meeting new people (I thank my extracurricular hockey and frisbee teams for this), although I can still make shit awkward like nobody's business;
- developed an appreciation for both craft beer and dub reggae/dub-step music;
- identified my limit for daily intake of caffeine before I become a cranky, sweaty, ass-faced, self-conscious ass face (FYI - my limit is apparently 1 litre of coffee, which I do consume daily, to the drop);
- did far less exercise than previous years;
- with the purchase of my new Adidas Gazelles, have reverted back to my high school "dress like a Beastie Boy" phase; and
- was pretty awesome, in general.

For 2011, I hereby resolve to continue being awesome, or, to become awesome, depending on your definition of "awesome".

Happy New Year.

Say Hello To Henry - Day 20

2010-12-28T22:04:00.003-04:00

Witness: the life.

Little Man is one day short of the three-week anniversary of his prolonged escape from Terri's insides, and, well, has not really changed a whole lot since Day 9. He eats. He sleeps. He defecates (loudly and frequently). When he cries, he sounds like an angry sheep. When he's hungry and rooting, he snorts like a pig. He looks a lot like me as a baby (i.e. really really, ridiculously good-looking).

He is coddled by Mom, Dad, and sister, as well as all Grandparents, Great-Grandparents, Aunts, Uncles, Great Uncles, and random strangers with trustworthy faces and a fistful of dollars. He is also scheduled for a growth spurt soon, which promises to be a barrel of breast-feeding monkeys for all. Prayeth!

As for Lydia - she has been remarkably well behaved given the amount of sugar, gifts and attention she has been receiving this past week. We are all relieved/proud/thankful. Christmas, as expected, has yielded her a new army of Disney Princess warriors, armed with Dora stickers and doctor kits. Be on the lookout; they have already invaded Basementonia, and are believed to be eying Upstairsia. They can be identified by their giant doe eyes, inappropriately large chests and plastic stethoscopes.

Speaking of Christmas - it netted me this and this. Thanks Santa!

Holiday Snaps - 2010

2010-12-27T22:01:00.002-04:00

What a whirlwind...

Christmas Admissions

2010-12-24T09:25:00.003-04:00

True stories, from yours truly, on this terribly unproductive day at the office:

I totally believed in Santa Claus, right up until Grade 5, when I read that he wasn't real in a Beverly Cleary (or Judy Blume?) book. I may have told this story before. It was also how I learned about the wonders of female menstruation.

The Chip and Dale segment of the Disney Christmas Special always made me wish I could live in a Christmas tree. I can't be the only one who feels this way.

My most memorable Christmas, #1, was in 1985, when a Christmas Eve snowstorm left my mother stranded at the hospital where she worked. We had to wait until she got home to open the gifts, and man, it. was. agonizing. I hereby coin this: the Great Christmas Pause of '85. I think we probably called her every fifteen minutes to see what was up, before going back to stare wistfully at the piles of unopened presents under the tree. In the end, I got the He-Man Cyclops doll (sorry, action figure) and the IQ-2000 board game. It was a good haul.

My most memorable Christmas, #2, was a few years later in our "new" house. I woke up really early, like 3:00 AM or something, and there was no way I was going back to sleep. The rest of my family refused to get out of bed (rightfully so) and I was left to spend the next 3-4 hours eating the candy from my Christmas stocking, perusing my O-Pee-Chee hockey sticker book, and speculating on what could be wrapped in that gigantic flat package under the tree (it was a bulletin board). This must have been 1987, because Patrick Roy hoisting the Cup was on the cover of my sticker book (man, the things you remember). The haul that year also included SpotBot.

In the days when we were still dragged to Sunday school, there was an activity that required us to place a single piece of hay into a paper manger for every good deed that we did over the week. By the following Sunday, I had a single piece of hay in my "manger", which I generously gave myself after holding the door for someone at the grocery store. Meanwhile, other kids' paper mangers were collapsing under great bales of hay, leading me to suspect that (i) my idea of a good deed was somewhat different that theirs, (ii) these kids were probably really annoying to be around, what with the incessant good-deed-doing, and (iii) I must have been a pretty rotten kid. In retrospect, all of these things were probably true. Man, I hated Sunday school.

Nowadays, I can barely bring myself to make a wish list, but I am pretty excited to see how Lydia is going to react.

Merry Christmas, team.

Update: Life, The Universe, And Everything

2010-12-23T12:51:00.002-04:00

Still 42!

Now here are two vaguely Christmas-related links:

- http://www.cbc.ca/arts/story/2010/12/23/mummering-tradition-.html;

- http://www.geekologie.com/2010/12/congratulations_get_back_to_wo.php.

Merry Christmix!

2010-12-19T19:27:00.004-04:00

Hey all - it's about that time again: depressing Christmas mix time! Maybe moreso than usual, this year's compilation is a tad on the slow side, a little dark maybe, melodramatic, and heavily weighted in long, semi-instrumental electronic jamz. There is even a old Sarah McLachlan song on here. This might be due to the many late nights me and the new fam have endured recently, which in turn has affected my headspace... my drowsy drowsy headspace. If that sort of thing sounds like something you might be interested in - then here you go:

Cover looks like this:

And you can download here: http://www.sendspace.com/file/3etfrz.

And these are the songs:
1. Jeremy Enigk - Abegail Anne
2. Do Make Say Think - It's Gonna Rain
3. Carissa's Weird - Phantom Fireworks
4. How To Dress Well - You Hold The Water
5. Martin Tielli - I'll Never Tear You Apart
6. Darkstar - Deadness
7. Sarah McLachlan - Fear
8. Damien Jurado - Rachel & Cali
9. James Blake - Tell Her Safe
10. Smog - Let Me See The Colts
11. Keren Ann - Chelsea Burns
12. Mike O'Neill - She Believes In Me
13. Thom Yorke - Cymbal Rush (The Field remix)

Enjoy! And, Merry Christmas.

Christmas Portrait Outtakes - 2010

2010-12-17T20:09:00.003-04:00

Sigh. Nothing worked today...

Say Hello To Henry - Day 9

2010-12-15T14:20:00.005-04:00

Henry is nine days old today. He sleeps. He feeds. He - howdoyousay - poops. Non-stop. Trying to account for soiled diapers, as new parents are supposed to, is near impossible as Henry's day comprises basically one, long, continuous bowel movement. I hope for Henry's sake that the internet devolves or evolves such that these words are no longer available for him to read in ten years or so... but it is true. The kid can shit.

In light of Henry's digestive successes, continued weight gain and eating habits - no one seems to be too concerned about his continued yellow hue and associated (minor) lethargy. In the meantime, if that means minimal crying and relatively easy nights - we'll take it as long as we can, so long as the guy is not in any danger. Having typed that, I'm sure I just jinxed myself...

At the same time, Little Miss is starting to become something of a ham. More specifically, a dancing ham. Even more specifically, a Feist- and Jackson 5-loving dancing ham; "Play the one, two, free, four kong, Daaad!" Then she proceeds to gallop and spin around the kitchen, while squealing and laughing, and moreso when there are people are to watch and encourage her. Thankfully, Henry is a pretty sound sleeper and snores through these daily evening recitals.

Finally, to tie everything together, the funniest word in Lydia's world: "poop". And lately, she's been hearing that word quite a bit. "Tee-hee-hee... poop."

Say Hello To Henry (cont'd)

2010-12-12T21:37:00.004-04:00

"Henry": the name came to Terri at 3:30 AM on the day of his birth - between carefully induced contractions, 10 hours before his eventual arrival, and a full 18 hours from the time of our actual hospital admittance the day before. Before "Henry", Terri and I had settled on "Elliott", which had stood for the entire duration of the pregnancy, or at least the part of which we were comfortable discussing names. The reason for the change? Not clear, but at some point during the thousand agonizing years of that night, during one of the three staff changeovers we were witness to, Terri decided that "Elliott" was not a good match for what she imagined our new one to look like.

"Henry", she said, out of nowhere, over the monotonous low beeping and hissing of the heart-rate monitor. I think it was the first thing that had been said for hours.

The first image that came to mind was of Henri Richard, in dusty black and white, wearing soft brown leather gloves, helmet-less in his Habs jersey. The name was old-fashioned, but not pretentious; not terribly trendy or common (that I was aware of) and not ridiculous; it seemed like a comfortable name.

"Okay", I said, "I can call him the Pocket Rocket".

And that was that.

Lydia met Henry at about 4:30 that afternoon. Given her obsession with all things baby, everyone was pretty interested to see what her reaction would be when faced with a crying, chalky newborn. The answer: cautious, curious, generally subdued, possibly confused. I guess this wasn't entirely unexpected, given that her experiences with babies thus far have been limited to (i) hard plastic dolls that she can manhandle and mistreat, whose eyes close when you tilt their head, and whose clothes have been curiously absent for months now, (ii) photos and videos, and (iii) babies old enough to at least have the residual blood and vernix bathed off.

In the intervening days, we are happy to report that her interest level has certainly increased, both with Henry himself and all the toys and furniture and routines that follow. She talks about her "baby brother, Hen-ree", and this evening, even fed him breast milk from a bottle.

As for Henry himself - what can I say? Little Man is four days old. He sleeps. He cries. He eats like a champ. He looks remarkably similar to me as a newborn. UNFORTUNATELY, sometime during day three his faint newborn yellow-y complexion had turned to a full-on canary yellow. Thus, sigh, Mom and Henry are currently BACK at the IWK, frustrated and bathing in UV light, respectively. Nothing to worry about, but nothing to be too happy about at this juncture, either. In the meantime, Dad and Little Miss have been in full visitation mode, scheduled around a certain someone's nap schedule.

Hopefully we'll all be back at the homestead tomorrow - to weather the storm, through intermittent sleep and increased diaper duties.

Say hello to Henry:

Say Hello To Henry

2010-12-10T20:36:00.002-04:00

More words to follow, at some point. In the meantime, know that we're all happy, and tired, and glad to be home.

Update!

2010-12-06T14:46:00.003-04:00

Nothing happening, although I did try to encourage Terri to take advantage of Sears' "win your baby registry" thingee (if you deliver on your due date) - but it turns out that said promotion is not quite so easy to exploit...

News (No Baby... Yet)

2010-12-05T09:50:00.004-04:00

I have discovered that Terri is not actually pregnant, but rather, has been hiding things up the front of her shirt for seven months or so. She even had her doctor fooled. It was all part of an elaborate EI-fraud. It's my only possible explanation for why little Mr. or Mrs. Unborn has yet to arrive. Back-up explanation: Terri's womb is outfit with an Xbox 360 Kinetic, and baby is having too much fun to come out.

In other news, Lydia has been obsessed with Santa Claus and Christmas recently - she has to kiss her room's decorative Santa goodnight every evening, and Twas The Night Before Christmas is in the bedtime story rotation. Well, on Friday, Mom took Little Miss to meet Santa at the mall, which had her squealing and giddy in anticipation. Her excitement evaporated rather quickly when faced with a chubby, bellowing stranger wearing a fake beard.

See:

Stay tuned for Santa and/or baby news. Soon. We hope.

UPDATE!

2010-11-25T12:49:00.010-04:00

12:49 PM -- Nothing happening.

EDIT: sorry, this is happening.

EDIT: 8:14 AM, 26-Nov-2010 -- Still nothing happening. Also, the internet seems to stop dead during American Thanksgiving. I want my AV Club and Community reviews and Pitchfork updates, dammit!

EDIT! 8:30 PM, 28-Nov-2010 -- Terri and I are so very happy to introduce to you the newest member of our family... THIS new Canon 12MP point-and-shoot digital camera! She is compact and easy to use, and seems to take good pics so far, although I have yet to load any onto the computer. FYI: you have to buy the SD card separately. We've named her "Clicky", and we love her very much, and so does Lydia, which is a relief to us because she is so attached to that big old one...

EDIT: 8:40 AM, 29-Nov-2010 -- Nothing happening... but yesterday I did try to repair the insulation on and around our attic hatch, which our energy auditor had noted as a particularly massive source of heat loss. After much sawing and gluing of foam board insulation, and handling and inhalation of decades-old pink fibreglass, and bending and twisting and contorting under the low pitch of our roof, the frost pattern on our shingles looked the same this morning as it had the past two winters. So there's that.

EDIT: 8:49 AM, 29-Nov-2010 -- Also - sad day - Leslie Neilson has apparently died.

EDIT: 9:50 PM, 29-Nov-2010 -- Here is what Lydia looks like, as of yesterday, courtesy of our new camera.

EDIT: 8:52 PM, 30-Nov-2010 -- Nnnnnnothing happening, except some eating of Lindor chocolates and watching the ESPN 30 For 30 doc on OJ Simpson. It is awesome, by the way.

EDIT: 10:17 PM, 1-Dec-2010 -- *inhale* Nothing happening, although we had something of a false start last night. Nothing to really worry about though - just a sign that things are progressing (albeit very very slowly). Also - I threw together an Amazon wish list for myself, planning for the day that I have ample amounts of disposable income to blow. See: http://www.amazon.com/gp/registry/wishlist/3SFOR36DP2UQA.

EDIT: 9:15 AM, 3-Dec-2010 -- Nothing happening. Unrelated observations: Dany Heatley spits a lot, like... a lot; that new CBC-commissioned Hannah Georges song sounds an awful lot like Death Cab For Cutie; I was one of the dozen people who didn't see Inception in theatres, so next week's DVD release is pretty exciting for me. That's all for now.

EDIT: 2:29 PM, 4-Dec-2010 -- Annnnd... nothing happening.

This Is Up

2010-11-23T21:09:00.002-04:00

1. Terri is pregnant, in case you didn't know. Today her doctor said she would likely deliver before December, which... is next week. The H is O. Short term schedules - out the window. Plans? Nope, sorry. That contractor we finally booked to do some work on our house (see below) - maybe not gonna happen. Aaron's nerves - ratcheted up. Baby? Near. This is exciting/terrifying - stay tuned.

2. I am quitting Twitter, as of... now. There. I still think it is a fantastic way to get news and jokes and follow the insignificant minute-to-minute accomplishments of several dozen complete strangers, but it is too much of a drain on my time and my attention. In the future, if I have something halfway witty that I feel is worthy of sharing with the world, I will write it on a Post-it note and stare at it until its image has been burned onto my eyeballs and then, hopefully, relayed to my closest friends and creepy Gypsies through my fledgling powers of ESP. Keep this in mind if you start dreaming of wry observations scribbled onto a yellow backdrop.

3. Tonight, my new dental hygienist ravaged my gums, mercilessly. I think they may still be bleeding. It was as if she harvested my feelings of guilt and embarrassment - having lied about my flossing habits, which are non-existant save for a panicked once over the night before - and moulded them into a scary, pointed ~~device~~ ~~weapon~~ ~~utensil~~ hook, which she then dragged clumsily and aggressively across my gums for 30 minutes straight, while at the same time subjecting me to the droning banality of "Live At 5". And then I said thank you and gave her some money.

4. My mind is kind of scattered today. See point (1) above. It is causing me to make dumb typos and use longer run-on sentences than usual. Sorry.

Ce Soir

2010-11-19T20:33:00.001-04:00

Runners

2010-11-19T20:31:00.003-04:00

Raucous, rambunctious runners, running round and round and round...

...and round and round (and round).

Money? Baby?

2010-11-16T09:13:00.002-04:00

It dawned on me this morning on my drive into work, apropos of absolutely nothing, that I have the following things in common with actor Vince Vaughn:

1. We are both male - although he strikes me as more of an alpha type, whereas I am the kind of guy who drinks two beer and complains that I am putting on weight.
2. We both love hockey.
3. With sunken eyes and disheveled clothes and hair, we both perpetually look like we've just woken up.
4. We both know who Jennifer Aniston is.
5. Like Vince Vaughn, I too was in Jurassic Park 2 - but I was edited out to cut down the running time. True story. It would have been my breakout role.

The remaining similarities we share with the rest of the Caucasian male population. Also a true story.

The Progression of Things

2010-11-11T21:27:00.003-04:00

Take one toddler. Add cake.

Let settle.

And stand back.

Happy Birthday Auntie 'Mara.

The Belly

2010-11-09T20:13:00.002-04:00

"It looks like a raw turkey" - Terri

"Don't put that on the internet!" - Terri

Lydia Log: The Twos (Two's?)

2010-11-08T12:36:00.003-04:00

Hey hey - it's been a while, eh? Let's get started.

Since we last spoke, I believe Lydia has sprouted wings and learned to fly. She is, howdoyousay, "superhuman", and she rains her lovely loving love down upon us measly gravity slaves like some sort of two year-old cupid. Well, not really, but she has sprouted something of a saucy, independent attitude and has learned to say "no" when you ask her to do something. Now, this isn't all the time, and I suppose it is to be expected, but it is new and arguably worth mentioning. So far, the feared "twos" have yet to be terrible, but they are a little more trying, if only slightly (so far). Parenting is hard after all!

On the more positive side of things, Little Miss has also developed quite an entertaining imagination - pretending to catch and release imaginary grasshoppers and butterflies, going grocery "shopping" in our kitchen with imaginary money, feeding her stuffed animals with invisible food. Also - rocking and singing her toy babies to sleep (all of which are naked for some reason), stuffing them all into a bassinet and tucking them in, then checking on them periodically. Also also - recent obsessions with hide and seek, Play-doh, Thomas The Tank Engine, and Elmo. Evening family times are fun times...

...and exhausting times. Lydia seems to have adopted her mother's interest in running, and does so nightly in circles around our main level. She has even abandoned all pretense of "taking the baby for a walk" or "going shopping" and just burns around and around and around, with the requirement that you chase her. Pregnant Mom usually gives up after a lap or two. Dad goes for as long as he can. The cats cower under the chairs. The neighbours think we're crazy.

We probably are.

Due Date

2010-11-07T22:01:00.003-04:00

The haiku movie review:

As they have all said
Planes, Trains and Automobiles
Redux - I loved it.

I wish I could have found a way to also work in masturbating dogs, stoner jokes and punching little kids, but alas, such are the limitations of the format I choose to work in...

One Last Halloween Pic

2010-11-02T21:22:00.000-03:00

Spoooooky... right?

Baby Steps

2010-11-02T20:45:00.004-03:00

I was incrementally productive these past two days - not "incrementally more", just "incrementally" - rising from the couch and accomplishing a moderate list of quite minor tasks, like...

- Finally updating my Flickr with the backlog of pics that have been building up since, oh, early Septemberish;

- Finally cleaning my coffee maker and Thermos for the first time in... too long (let's just say that my relative good health is something of a miracle);

- Finally calling my to-remain-nameless cable provider to purchase RDS (french TSN) so I can watch my Habs games this season;

- Finally cleaning out, blessing and firing up our pellet stove this season;

- Finally backing up my hard drive, thereby ensuring it won't fail for another few months - several hours before I will have planned to getting around to it again; and

- Finally preparing our Christmas budget, which is always somewhat stressful, somewhat depressing and somewhat overwhelming... somewhat. FYI: you're all getting hand-drawn portraits, as scribbled on the back of my holiday season bank statements.

Ho ho ho!

Halloween - Continued

2010-10-31T19:40:00.003-03:00

Really - what is not to love about Halloween? See: endless supply of chocolate bars and miniature licorice and chips; scary movies; cool weather; an excuse to beg for things; an excuse to wear silly outfits; ~~justified vandalism~~...

This year marks the inaugural trick or treating experience for Lydia and, while she never did manage to overcome her crippling fear of speaking to adults/strangers and squeak out a "trick or treat" or a "thank you", she certainly appreciated the resulting haul of junk food. In a regrettable-in-retrospect decision, Mom and Dad let her have a few Smarties and several sugary licks of a sucker upon her return... minutes before trying in vain to drag her upstairs to bed and bath. Rookies.

And now - after the modest parade of princesses and tigers and... miscellaneous (the night wrapped up with a single kid wearing a KFC bucket on his head) - Terri and I are going to sit back and watch a scary movie. And I will long for the weekend to continue indefinitely. And I will eat too much candy and complain about it tomorrow - I speak from experience...

Halloween - In Brief

2010-10-31T15:20:00.004-03:00

Documentation of "adult" costume party: immature, drunk, messy, sweaty, awesome, see below. More words and pics to come, post-kiddie evening events...

Weekend Snaps

2010-10-24T22:06:00.004-03:00

This weekend went fast - spent with folks two weeks old, two years old, 83 years old, and many of the in-between sort. I ate too much, and took dark, blurry pics too much, and ruined others' pics with my shitty mustache too much.

But, what am I talking about, it was good to see you all. Thanks for the food and the company, and congrats to Chris and Aimee on the birth of their first - happy Esmee.

Mentionables

2010-10-22T20:34:00.005-03:00

1. HUGE - Lydia peed in her Elmo training potty last night. This after only a few days of practice, i.e. sitting on it, naked, and laughing. Mom and Dad applauded, Lydia beamed, and Elmo said congratulations in four different languages. This is all true. Also true - she has not done it since, thereby ensuring that we don't get ahead of ourselves. Also also true, the requirement to manually clean out said potty after each use already has Mom and Dad excited for the day when Little Miss can use a real toilet.

2. The new Halifax modern rock radio station is alternately good and awful. During drive time(s) they seem to play more "classic" alternative rock - I've heard Iggy Pop, Pixies, Joy Division, Sloan, plus Arcade Fire and Black Keys get plenty of airtime... but so does Linkin Park, Finger Eleven, and tons of other random, screaming, overproduced crud. And don't get me started on the awful, "extreme", almost-misogynistic hosts. But 30% of the music is pretty good, which is better than we had before. Right? ... right?

3. Local contractors - they must be doing okay, what with not having to call back eager, willing customers to earn a decent living. Witness: we have two renos outstanding, and no less than four solicited contractors have not shown up, not returned our calls, and/or feigned interest but not bothered to order the materials or actually proceed with the work. That we were willing to pay for. Actual money. Really. So - if anyone is capable of installing, wiring and venting a bathroom exhaust fan, by all means drop us a line.

4. This is awesome:

Lydia Log: Birthday 2, Party 2

2010-10-18T21:49:00.005-03:00

This time for the folks!

While today was actually Lydia's birthday, we had been celebrating the past two days, for practical reasons. All are exhausted, although some are more wound than others - see: Lydia, full of cake, was up until near-10:00 last night serenading herself with Happy Birthday... that was, of course, after we managed to dig her out from the literal mountain of booty, ribbons and gift bags. Ha!

She thanks everyone for their wishes - "tay too".

Lydia Log: Birthday 2, Party 1

2010-10-16T21:33:00.003-03:00

Oh boy.

Kids, full of sugar, wheeling around our home, bouncing off of each other and the walls like costumed pinballs. Photo ops amidst flying cake crumbs, spilled milk and tissue paper.

It was fantastic. Party number 2 is tomorrow... stay tuned.

Who Needs Words?

2010-10-14T21:20:00.000-03:00

Much like this blog lately...

Cousins

2010-10-11T20:34:00.000-03:00

I Paid Twelve Bucks For What?

2010-10-09T23:02:00.003-03:00

The Maritime Fall Fair. Petting zoo fun made it worth it.

I Should Talk About This Now

2010-10-04T21:36:00.003-03:00

These guys are kind of in the news now, what with their reunion tour and new greatest hits deal and stuff. I'm not sure where they stand on the guilty pleasure-o-meter - I think at one point they were really hot shit, but then they broke up, and the style of the time changed, and they were killed by Radiohead and ironic t-shirts and the internet. I think. Then the singer went on to release a whole string of really really bad albums, including a dance album I believe, which probably didn't help their legacy much.

Regardless, we saw Soundgarden on a trip to Quebec City back in university. And they were pretty excellent if I recall. And this used to be one of my favourite videos. And it makes me nostalgic for cassette tapes and plaid shirts and high school and the lakes and woods of the Eastern Shore.

That is, this does:

EDIT: And no sooner had I prepared the above, did this find its way to the internet: http://www.avclub.com/articles/part-1-1990-once-upon-a-time-i-could-love-you,45892/

No Time To Blog

2010-09-30T22:43:00.003-03:00

- too busy doing useless shit like this:

And also: realizing that all of the half-finished renos and other such projects probably won't be finished by the time baby number 2 arrives, which will mark the end of any productivity in that department for a few months (or possibly years - I have no idea what free time looks like with two kids). In other words - panic reno frenzy! In still other words, this means little to no time to blog.

And Today Looked Like This:

2010-09-26T22:10:00.001-03:00

More or less...

Tonight Looked Like This:

2010-09-23T21:19:00.002-03:00

EDIT: but less contrasty and blurry.

Les Youppis! 2010 Edition

2010-09-21T22:46:00.004-03:00

Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you - Les Youppis!

Anze Kopitar, C, LA
Paul Stastny, C, COL
Matt Duchene, C, COL

Milan Lucic, LW, BOS
Daniel Sedin, LW, VAN
James van Riemsdyk, LW, PHI

Patric Hornqvist, RW, NAS
Niclas Bergfors, RW, ATL
Wayne Simmonds, RW, LA

Shea Weber, D, NAS
Ryan Suter, D, NAS
Kris Letang, D, PIT
Dan Hamhuis, D, VAN

Jonathan Quick, G, LA
Jaroslav Halak, G, STL
Michael Leighton, G, PHI

Phew. That was stressful. I have no idea where I stand. Also - I'm going to bed.

So, We Went To Trout Point

2010-09-19T21:46:00.005-03:00

Trout Point Lodge is buried deep (DEEP) in the Tobiatic wilderness of southern Nova Scotia - a mere stones throw from the outer reaches of Kejimkujik National Park, 45 minutes on disintegrating asphalt from the nearest 100-series highway, 3.5 hours from home, miles from any reliable cellular reception - yet is a surprisingly popular destination for the vacationing elite... and now, us.

The Lodge is marketed as an "eco resort", which means exactly what I'm not clear on, even after having been there for three days. What I do know is that (i) the setting is suitably gorgeous for the money it costs to stay there, (ii) they have a woodstove-heated, communal, outdoor hot-tub and sauna, (iii) river paddlin' is both super-purty and included in your fees, (iv) there are fireplaces in the rooms, which, frankly, should be more common, everywhere, and (v) the food is incredible: rich, expertly prepared, and thrust at you in such quantities that I came to suspect we were being prepared for inclusion in some pending Trout Point Soylent product. Mmmm, me. Thus, each night ended with us lying on our backs in front of the roaring fire in our room, delirious, gripping our stomachs and gasping for air.

Aside from the guilty, peer-pressured gluttony, the dining experience was unique in that all guests were encouraged to eat together at a large table in the Lodge dining room. While I was initially hesitant at this prospect - given my well-documented aversion to meeting new people - it turned out rather interesting, as we ended up dining with a young rich couple from Manhattan and a Mennonite couple from Annapolis Royal, ex of Manitoba and Belize. I swear I am not making this up. We talked bad driving experiences, bed bugs, complications with dog sitting, and... parrot hunting. Later, on a solid three-beer buzz, I continued to regale the rapt audience with second and third hand stories about southern Nova Scotia and other miscellany that turned out to be just wrong enough to be considered lies. Thankfully we will never see these people again. I like to think that such stories will continue to be passed from ear to ear, throughout Manhattan and the NS valley, twisting and mutating with each incorrect telling, until someone hears and possibly believes that the Trout Point property was once owned by Irving, who reluctantly passed it on to a group of Buddhist Monks after a legally-binding staring contest.

What I'm trying to say is: the food was fantastic, the rooms were gorgeous, the grounds were lovely, and if we could ever afford to return there we probably will.

(See a few more here: http://www.flickr.com/photos/muiseam/tags/troutpoint/)

My Thursdays Are Now Free

2010-09-12T20:42:00.004-03:00

And thus concludes another super fun season of Ultimate Frisbee (or "Frisbee" as I like to call it) for me and the Bag of Hammers - the co-ed and proudly third-tier recreational team of which I am a member. On the final day of the season - Saturday, a day-long, three-game tournament - we came, we did surprisingly well, we drank some beer, then we lost. Taking the loss particularly hard - my knees, which are giving my receding hairline and leathery, crinkled eyes a run for their money as the most rapidly aging part of my body. Thus, I shall take great care to nurse such liabilities serviceable before my rec hockey season starts - something I was unsuccessful at last year, and I hobbled around all winter as a result. Note to self: listen to self.

Huzzah!

Viral Cat Videos

2010-09-10T20:46:00.002-03:00

No one in my house seems to find this as funny as I do...

Lydia Log: Dad's Real Name

2010-09-10T12:20:00.005-03:00

Further to what I last posted on the subject - Lydia has become quite the little myna bird, soaking in and spitting back her special interpretations of every uttered phrase, every question, every strangled, friendly, PG-fied cuss word. She has even taken to calling me "Aaron". Her recent developments in this area have even surprised her babysitter, who will now have to watch her trucker's mouth and curb her endearing-at-first habit of referring to the kids under her watch as "godless bastards".**

She (Lydia) is also becoming quite demanding of our evaluation and praise, a trait readily identifiable in her Dad; ordering us to come watch her, for example, eat a piece of fruit by herself, or brush her teeth, or allow us to wash her hair - things that we have been encouraging her to do for some time now. Such accomplishments are met with excited praise and encouragement from us, have become expected, and are even reflected in her own shaking, squealing, proud reactions to these new feats: "Look! I do it! Eeeeeee!" While the results are cute, I'm not sure where this falls on the scale of good parenting techniques, but I'll wager it is harmless and standard - and we'll enjoy these reactions while they last.

Related to the above, Lydia's new favourite phrase is "do it myself", as in "let me do it", and applies to... pretty much everything. Making breakfast. Getting dressed. Washing herself. Loading the family shotgun. All positives I should add, and we are more than happy that she has become so dedicated to self-improvement and learning, but man does it slow down your day. The mean time to accomplish anything essentially doubles. Fortunately, her second favourite phrase is "help, please", which she still uses pretty liberally.

And finally, in what could be a preview of her birthday/Christmas, Lydia's excitement over receiving a new bed (her previous crib is being donated to her to-be-born sibling) was downright Theo Fleury-esque. I'll be sure to have the video camera at my ready.

** Obviously I am joking, she actually calls them "effing drunken midgets".

It's About That Time

2010-09-07T21:58:00.006-03:00

Fall. Cool air. Pretty coloured trees. Easy sleeping. New television schedule. And, of course, fantasy hockey:

This is gonna be my year... I can just tell...

EDIT: please ignore the fact that I mis-spelled Youppi on my otherwise TERRIFYING team logo. Be terrified and intimidated, not judging. Youppi commandeth.

EDIT EDIT: There. Fixed. That was embarrassing.

This does not bode well.

Power!

2010-09-04T11:57:00.002-03:00

Aaron reporting live from near the eye of Hurricane Earl here. After the power was knocked out at 9:30 by frustratingly mild winds (by any storm standards), it has now - remarkably and counter to all logic - been restored, despite the tropical storm-strength winds. Witness the political pull of them Colby soccer-moms!

Speaking with the folks at home on the Eastern Shore, while they are still with power, trees are apparently falling left and right. Even here in the 'burbs, our neighbour has lost half a big maple in his back yard, which managed to fall at an angle such that it miraculously missed everything of value... like our houses.

Employing the lessons we learned form Juan, our BBQ is tied to the back deck like a hostage, as is our green bin, and a few actual hostages (I checked - they're okay).

Power flickering again...

EDIT: And that is what I wrote around noon. Very Blair Witch-y. Seven hours later - here we are. Everything still standing, the green bin and BBQ returned to their normal, on guard positions. Hostages seem to be doing okay, and are responding well to my serenading them with Celtic standards.

In conclusion - whew.

Internet Diagnosis: Frog Eyes

2010-09-03T10:26:00.007-03:00

My eyes - I don't know what is with them, but they have been dry and itchy and swollen and red for most of the summer. My eyelids are bulging and (not to get too graphic) are starting to crack - painful cracks from which little spiders with similarly sore eyeballs are escaping. I suppose it could be some undiagnosed allergy, or this might be the new status quo eye situation for the aging, 33 year old me - unsightly and uncomfortable...

Recently, at Terri's firm recommendation, I have been using some girly, anti-aging eye product stuff on my disfigured face. The result: (a) a prolonged, distinct burning sensation under my eyes, causing them to water and have everyone ask me if I'm "alright"; and (b) a sheen around my eyes that, in certain light, makes it look as if I am wearing a superhero sidekick facemask. Both of these effects are not considered preferable to the alternative, (i.e.) general puffiness and discomfort, and so I am abandoning this treatment, effective immediately.

So: I hereby invite your diagnoses and suggestions for overcoming this crippling handicap. Know that I am very hydrated, I don't smoke, I don't make a habit of driving foreign objects into my eyes, and I have little-to-no shame.

Bring it on. Gracie.

The Inevitable

2010-09-02T10:24:00.004-03:00

I tried, Lord knows I tried, to resist the urge to come on here and complain about the weather. Weather is to blogging (and conversation in general) what food is to Twitter, or what corny puns are to evening newscasts, or what marriage and airline food jokes are to stand-up comedy (I could go on) - (i.e.) ubiquitous, meaningless filler.

But anyway.

Damn this effing heat, damn it back to whatever now-marginally-cooler hell from whence it came. Highs of 34-degrees?!? 26-degrees at 7:30 in the morning?!? Breeze-less, humid, 20+ degree nights?!? I don't recall agreeing to any of this. I can't sleep. Lydia can't sleep. Terri can't sleep. The cats spend all day laying spread eagle on the bathroom tile. I have no energy to eat, let alone do anything productive. Last night I attempted to sleep on the floor beside my bed, hoping the air would be cooler down there. It wasn't. Aaron mad.

How is this weather treating you?

And then there is this frigging hurricane, making us reschedule our long-planned getaway, causing low-levels of nagging stress and inconvenience, exacerbated by the oppressive heat and string of sweaty, sleepless nights. Also - making me prattle on in long, rambling, whiny, run-on sentences.

I tried, oh did I try.

(Call It) A Comeback

2010-08-30T12:47:00.005-03:00

Hey all - welcome back. Things have been fairly busy with me and the fam recently - parenting, summering, renovating, dining, movie renting, leading international coups, etc - and thus, I obviously haven't been giving La Blog the attention it deserves. So now to catch up.

In the queue that has been amassing for what looks to be about a week now, I have a handful of half-thoughts and semi-formed blog entries. Instead of taking the time to hash them all out into what I would consider fully-formed entries (but most might still consider less than complete), I will dump them all into one rambling, scatter-shot post. This post:

1) Is taste genetic? Yesterday I found myself having a single barbequed cheeseburger with a side fistful of chips for lunch. While it is true that these items were basically my only lunch options, it is also true that I would likely have had the same meal if there was a fridge full of options at my disposal. Because I like cheeseburgers and chips? Probably. Or because I used to see my Dad eat the same, or similar, lunch most days in the summer when my mother was working? Related, Terri's reaction when she caught Lydia dipping cheese into her yogurt - "she's certainly your daughter". So - is food preference and/or the urge to dip foods into other foods a genetic pre-disposition? I have evidence to strongly suggest that it is...

2) Muffin shopping. I just hummed and hawed for an awkwardly long amount of time over a rather unappetizing-looking muffin in the cafeteria lineup. There were several people waiting behind me, and I wasn't that hungry, but I was still drawn to the lone muffin on the counter out of habit. "Blueberry" said the cashier, to which I replied, "yup". And then I bought it - out of fear that my putting it back would be seen as a slight on the quality of the cafeteria's baking, as well as make me look cheap. Not surprisingly, it wasn't very good. Some might find this story telling. Some might find my telling of this story telling. Either way, I have no idea what it means, if anything, which others may also find telling...

3) Hurricane season/vacation season. This weekend Terri and I have a room booked at Trout Point in Yarmouth, which we booked with our Rewards Points. I have been looking forward to this trip for weeks - the place is a 5-star "eco-resort" that we would certainly not have been able to afford without our Points. Well, come to find out that Hurricane Earl may wallop Nova Scotia this weekend - just in time for our trip! Yay. So, will our trip be post-poned due to weather? Or will vacationing through a hurricane at a remote, 5-star eco-resort be more/less fun than relaxing in boring old non-life-threatening weather. We'll see...

4) Date Night. Watched it. Liked it. Laughed at it. Sex robots. Critics be damned. Either my tastes are slipping, or I've just reached that point on my life. Or I was drunk. Or all of the above...

(Actual) Dirty Deeds

2010-08-23T21:30:00.004-03:00

I'm not that filthy, really.

See... I was doing some emergency brickwork repair under my deck, fixing a hole where the rain comes in (and also the cold air that seems to freeze our pipes in the winter, but that doesn't have a snappy Beatles quote that works). I was wearing the appropriate protective gloves and glasses when I started, but soon removed them to help me better squish the cement into the tight crevices where it needed to go, and well, to see - although, the sweat in my eyes and spider webs and general shadowy darkness allowed me to experience masonry repair from the Stevie Wonder perspective, but only for a few fumbling minutes.

Perhaps not surprisingly, my face and hands are now speckled and smeared with dried, crusty concrete. I have spent most of the rest of the evening feeling dirty and compulsively scrubbing at my hands with Terri's pumice stone thingee. Consequentially, my hands are raw and pink and sore, yet still disgusting and filthy - covered with less-than-attractive brown/grey liver spotty things. And my face - still decorated by grey freckles.

I foresee a full day of explaining this to my coworkers tomorrow. Argh. Ow. At least the deck is fixed (fingers crossed... *crunch*). Maybe I am that filthy after all.

Aaron Laugh

2010-08-18T21:07:00.001-03:00

Ha ha!

Lydia Log: Where Ya-Ya Be?

2010-08-17T10:19:00.005-03:00

My many months of wondering when Lydia would start piecing together all of those clumsy word fragments into actual sentences seem to have come to their expected conclusion - with Lydia as a chatty, rambling toddler. Yup, Miss Lydia has become something of a cute parroting sponge - absorbing and repeating new words, barking orders, and hip-hop hollering back questions and answers and somewhat comprehensible sentence chunks, with interesting inflections and accents as she tries to bend her mouth around these new, weird words: heppa-copper (helicopter); deeping (sleeping); chang gra-pour (change diaper); baby gwing (baby swing); need help; want go park; play in tent; go downstairs; run! that way!; so nice to see you; and on and on and on.

It is about this time that Mom and Dad really have to watch what they say, and how they say it, for obvious reasons. Example: having caught myself mid-swear upon discovering my coffee maker had clogged, I left for work to Little Miss repeating "Jeeez-". Ooops.

Oh, and as "Lydia" seems to be quite difficult to pronounce, she has apparently renamed herself "Ya-Ya" and has taken to referring to herself in the third person, like a tiny Bob Dole. Like most things - this is pretty cute now, but I hope it ends long before the 'tweens.

EDIT: I had intended to revisit this post and expand to include other recent, relatively-humorous/interesting developments... but I didn't. Sorry. Blogging, like working and sleeping, is hard in the summer.

Vacation Snaps: Miscellany

2010-08-14T23:12:00.005-03:00

After all of the weddings, loafing, sunsets, beach days, deck jams, sleeping in (twice), visiting, ignoring renos, overeating, kissing babies, ridiculing ugly people, and so on - it was an alright vacation, although too short, although aren't they all? Although, I guess I had fewer noteworthy pics than I thought.

Oh well, here are some of most of the rest:

We Interrupt These Vacation Snaps To Give You

2010-08-14T23:07:00.000-03:00

This:

Vacation Snaps: Cape Breton

2010-08-14T13:38:00.004-03:00

More to come, including deck jams, baby faces, werewolves and stupid outfits...

Here Be Words

2010-08-08T22:29:00.007-03:00

What a way to start my vacation: an open bar wedding at Oak Island with friends and family and far too much food, and I only recall one lousy joke about a treasure pit (and I made it). Surprisingly, the night stayed relatively under control, where the terms "surprisingly" and "relatively" refer specifically to "east coast wedding" and "open bar". That said, we ducked out around 1 AM, skipping "the after party", and while checking out this morning, the woman in front of me was pleading for comp after being disrupted all night by the partying. But, I'm sure it could have been much much much worse (see: "relatively under control", and also see this: http://www.break.com/index/woman-too-excited-about-arrest-on-tv).

For those keeping track, that is six instances of the double-fingered quotation so far this blog. "Crazy".

Here be pics!

And for good measure, one more from my sleepy hangover Sunday:

Now, party people, I shall vanish into the internet-less ether for a few. I'll be back with lots of pics and possibly-interesting-to-you stories.

Aye! (etc)

Also - I apologize for how poorly written the above is. It's late and I have teh dumb. Sorry.

To Discuss

2010-08-04T22:11:00.003-03:00

Friends, what is the greatest song to come out of Canada in the 1980s? Go For Soda? Safety Dance? Something by Bryan Adams? Doug & The Slugs? David Effing Wilcox?

Please.

Peoples, I submit to you: 54-40's "One Day In Your Life", which can be found in video form here (which I can't embed for some reason 'r another): http://www.spike.com/video/54-40-one-day-in/2790488...

It's kind of cheesy, yes, but it's also ten miles of warm, fuzzy, trumpet goodness. I listen to this song with rose-coloured, um, headphones, and in my mind I am slurping sugary cereal in front of Stan The Man or Samantha Taylor, soaking in radiation and, I dunno, loving Peanuts and Garfield. Happy stuff.

The video is also pure Canadiana - check out the boots, and the sweaters, and all of the Vancouver/Stanley Park footage. 54-40 haven't aged particularly well, I'll grant you, but this song is still aces.

IMO.

Spontaneous Kitchen Reading

2010-08-01T20:45:00.001-03:00

New chair. New book. New hair-do. New obsession. And not at all posed.

Up In The Air

2010-08-01T20:10:00.002-03:00

Last night, the family and I shrugged off a free Matt Mays show, a not-free-but-likely-awesome Sadies show, and dinner with Royalty (pfft, merely an Archduke, and an ugly one at that) in order to give our babysitters a break, and have a night to ourselves.

And George Clooney.

So this much-hyped Up In The Air movie: I liked it. I liked how it avoided the typical rom-com arc (although I called it). I liked the jokes. I "liked" the crushing montages of fired employee reactions. I liked how accurately it portrayed life on the road (in my brief experience, but y'know, minus all the sexual escapades), and the awkwardness of business casual industry functions. I found it hard to believe that such a career termination service could actually exist, and even more unlikely that the Keener character's plan could be taken seriously, and I found the dialogue to be a little too "written" in parts - but hey, it's a movie. More than anything though, I liked that it made me think, and far more than I expected for what is essentially a standard romantic comedy.

And what to think about: how would my life look without support from all of my friends and family? How much unnecessary baggage am I carrying in my life? What are my priorities? What would I do if I were fired tomorrow? How did George Clooney's teeth get so white? How did Young MC get so fat?

And so on. Most people probably have these kinds of inner discussions on their own, without prompting from pop culture. Not me, apparently. In short: I liked it. Classify under surprisingly poignant fluff.

Next up: House Of The Devil. How will the two compare? Which will have more gratuitous bum shots? Which will have the quirkier soundtrack? Which will feature more devil worship?

We'll see, I guess.

Tourists

2010-08-01T20:04:00.001-03:00

Call For Papers

2010-07-28T15:35:00.006-03:00

Dearest internet,

I am hereby issuing a sincere and heartfelt and *insert redundant adjective* plea for your help. Please take a moment to prepare your brain for my pending request. Exhale. Chant om. Go to your happy place - hopefully I am there; if not, imagine I am, but in some passive and not-at-all-creepy way. Perhaps I am feeding you grapes and massaging your back in a most pleasing yet platonic manner. Perhaps I am dancing - suggestively, yet comically suggestively - as a clown would. I am burning candles and baking bread. I am singing your favourite song in Willie Nelson's voice. I am DVR'ing your favourite TV show. I am agreeing with everything you say.

Now that you have been reduced to butter: what I need, dear friend, is a fail-safe get-rich-quick and/or solid work from home ~~scheme~~ job opportunity. I am looking for something that will allow me to maintain or increase my current level of income, while greatly increasing my loafing quotient. Effort has to be minimal or, at the very least, enjoyable. I don't want to be selling insurance or Amway or working the phones, making contacts, actually interacting with other humans... *shudder*

Preferably, I'm looking for either (i) an immediately and massively successful creative endeavour, or (ii) something I can set up and forget about, yet have continually fill my bank account with precious freedom-enabling money. Money for living. Money for loafing. Money for buying you presents. Example: some douche set up a website that offers a long list of vague and frankly useless suggestions on how to make money while blogging. This site apparently sits there, ugly and untended, collecting hits from suckers like me, netting him over $1,000/week from ad revenue alone. He says so himself on the site, which I will not be linking to.

Please, take my request back to your happy place - where I am entertaining you and massaging your temples with my warm, virtually hairless hands - and meditate on it. As a close friend/internet acquaintance, please know that the more loafing time I can afford, the better this world is for everyone (or something less awkwardly worded).

Love, sincerely,
Aaron

Sick Day, Sunday, Tickle Fights

2010-07-25T21:18:00.001-03:00

Like I said:

Acorn Association

2010-07-21T13:30:00.001-03:00

The Acorn are a Canadian band that I've championed for quite some time. In the past, I recall to have drunkenly described them as Paul Simon meets Arcade Fire, which upon sober reflection is not terribly accurate, but they are certainly on the adult alternative side of folky world music. But good (salesman!). I don't pretend to have stepped in on the ground floor, but I've certainly been a fan since hearing them on CBC one lazy winter Saturday, following up on their Myspace page, and subsequently searching out their Glory Hope Mountain album - which I am pretty confident will be regarded as their masterpiece when all is said and done.

After a few failed attempts at locating this album (GHM) in Halifax, I finally tracked it down in Ottawa while traveling by myself for work (fitting, given that they are from Ottawa). As such, I will forever associate their music with the boredom of traveling alone; with the stress of a new and challenging project; with eating alone in restaurants; with staring down a wintery dark and dreary Hull/eastern Ottawa from my 16th story hotel room; with freezing fingers and numb cheeks and aimlessly wandering the streets of a marginally familiar city for photo ops. Their quiet lullaby folk songs and layers of raucous percussion and pretty acoustic finger picking streamed through my laptop speakers as I blogged and surfed - killing time before I quit on the night and turned out the lights. Comforting. That night's blog can be found here: http://muiseam.blogspot.com/2007/11/greetings-from-ottawa.html - know that it was prepared with rosy pink fingers and accompanied by decent, new-to-me music.

While my current relationship with the band is not so positive - I feel their new album is only okay, and for my one live Acorn experience, they were severely outclassed by a staggeringly beautiful Ohbijou - I still have the above comforting associations.

What I'm trying to say is: you should check them out. I likes them.

Second Guessing

2010-07-21T10:12:00.001-03:00

Type. Delete. Type. Delete. Feel the pressure to maintain one-sided discourse with the internet, but not resort to standard gushing about parenthood or iPod playlist or complaining about the heat or longing for vacation. Also, tip-toe around events leading up to embarrassing four-day-and-counting hangover. Type... Delete...

Sigh. Lydia now sports pigtails and chases me around the house squealing. I'm listening to Carissa's Weird. It's unbearably hot. I wish I was on vacation. And dammit, I still feel like ass on account of depositing large portions of my stomach lining along the side of the highway this past Sunday. Damn shooters.

Type. Delete.

Death

2010-07-18T20:07:00.003-03:00

I'm at the tail end of an all-time top 5 hangover right about now. And that's pretty much all I can say.

Lydia Log: Talking, Talking To Boys

2010-07-14T12:29:00.006-03:00

As a first time parent, I'm not really clear on the normal, expected time line for many of the lesser milestones in a child's development. For example: Lydia has recently begun to identify and recite parts of the alphabet and can count to at least three (mind you, with some parental prompting). All this, and she is barely scratching 20 months old. Is she MENSA material? Is she freakishly intelligent - like Doogie Howser (MD) or this kid? Oh, if only there was some sort of reference material readily available to me, such that I could carry out this research myself - but alas there is not so I'll just wonder aloud, left to languish blissfully in my hopeful uncertainty. Sigh.

In other, less stunning (frankly) news, Lydia is expanding her vocabulary almost daily, and is finally starting to repeat the words we've been encouraging her to learn for a good 19 months now. Every so often, she'll just blurt out a new word, seemingly from out of nowhere but well within the context of the situation or discussion in the room. "Door", "run", "go", "tea time", "sky", "wet", etc. She may also be inventing words, or channeling, because a few statements have been incorporated into her arsenal that have us pretty confused - see "neeeee daaap"? "deefp"?

New rules for Mom and Dad: (i) roll with it, (ii) watch what you say...

The other recent, rather entertaining development worth noting is Lydia's burgeoning flirtatiousness, which is cute now but will have to be curbed sometime before junior high. It is really cute, and really shameless. Last night my parents were over, along with my sister, her boyfriend and his kids - including a 9-year old boy named Cole. Well, Lydia followed Cole around the house like a puppy, only to giggle shyly and bury her face into her mother's knees if he so much as turned to address her. She immediately bounced up onto the couch next to him, spurning requests from her mother, grandmother and aunt in the process. And then before bed, she actually made kissy faces at him. Even this morning, she giggled at the mere mention of his name. That he could reasonably be part of our family was of immediate concern to my mother; that she was flirting at 20 months was more concerning to me.

See above new rule (i) - roll with it.

Obligatory Summer Weather Complaint Post

2010-07-12T10:18:00.002-03:00

Oh, this suffocating humidity. It makes sleeping impossible, ironing senseless, and most other waking activities - save for drinking and swimming - brutally brutally uncomfortably awful. Brutally. Awful.

As my sleep requirements are considerably more demanding than most, such weather seems to really affect me - driving my moods to the dark and the darker. In short - I become short, unbearable. Witness: Saturday morning, I screamed at my incessantly mewing cat at a volume that surprised even me, and I suspect my entire neighbourhood now thinks I'm some kind of abusive husband. Our home is not a pleasant one when I am sweaty and without sleep.

And so I welcome the rain, and the thunder, and the lightning, for at least this offers some reprieve from the hot soupy air - providing relatively cooler and wetter soupy air; clammy vice stuffy and suffocating. I can sleep with the clammy.

I promise to stop now.

Harsh

2010-07-07T21:54:00.004-03:00

I know some people who are annoying. It's true. I also acknowledge that I am probably annoying to some (or many) people. In the grand scheme of things though, I don't feel any of the individuals on my annoying list are particularity evil, or mean-spirited, or unpleasant enough that I would wish them any specific harm, save for a canker or a paper cut here or there (just 'cuz), and I hope my detractors would feel he same way about me.

On the other hand, there is a special type of person who only seems to exist on a certain television channel, appearing on reality shows dedicated to their chosen profession, a profession that rewards the sleazy and the stuck-up, and has likely been a significant contributor to the recent real estate collapse in the US. I speak of course, of the spoiled, fat-headed, egomaniacal, arrogant, insufferable, puckered-ass, orange-faced, Botox pin cushions of HGTV. Damn them and their ass faces, and their ability to tie a room together with a funky print... then belittle the help and their customers and their viewers. Damn them all.

I do wish these people harm - more specifically, I wish them all complete and utter financial ruin. And maybe a non-lethal-yet-somewhat-debilitating injury or two. May they suffer the dreary drapes and beige plastics of a long-term care facility, dreaming of their dead careers, and potential ways to flip Hope Cottage. Sarah's Trailer?

Harsh? Probably. But these people are awful - all of them - and so undeservedly pompous.

There. Glad to have that off my chest and in writing.

Report

2010-07-04T21:50:00.005-03:00

Continuing with my recent trend of foregoing meandering, unfocused essays in favour of a handful of representative pics - below are a handful of pics, representative of our rather busy weekend. As you can see, there was water and dogs and a toddler-eating couch involved.

PS: Thanks to Drew and Colleen for the hospitality!

You Probably Don't Care To Read This

2010-06-30T10:43:00.003-03:00

This blog is about pants. More specifically, this blog is about my waist size and stubby legs, and my life-long difficulty in finding a pair of pants that fit properly - both now, and in six months time. As such, this blog may represent the absolute pinnacle of pointless, narcissistic blathering in the site's history. Regardless...

As alluded to in the above, my stubby legs and feminine waistline make it quite difficult to find a pair of pants that fit properly, often leaving me to awkwardly roll up the cuffs, or beg my mother to apply her motherly hemming skills. Not ideal. Sometimes I take a chance and buy a pair that fit more or less perfectly at the time of purchase, but more often than not, I come to regret this in a few months when said pants have bunched and shrunk to the point where it looks like I'm wearing a pair of awkwardly-long clam-diggers. At the same time, buying pants that actually fit my waistline carries with it the pressure to maintain said waistline. Life is rough.

I mention all of the above because: (i) last night I picked up a new suit, the first since university, and (ii) today is the first (and likely last) Donair Day at work. And now you see the correlation, and why I am conflicted/concerned.

Again, life is rough.

A Pow-Wow-Wow

2010-06-27T20:52:00.004-03:00

Today, we pow-wow-wow, yippie-o, yippie-ay'd to the funk. And I think I got a sunburn. Not sure what I was supposed to get out of the experience, but at least it was positive, and I can go away feeling like I supported the event - especially after the stupid expensive vendor prices. Amiright!?

Seriously though - lots of really interesting outfits and music, and Lydia was enthralled. Plus, it was an excuse to get out of the 'burbs and do something. See: