Sunday, December 30, 2007


Ever since I became LDS, I learned the value of Sundays. We don't do the best Sabbath day activities ever, but in our own way, it is about our family and what is more Sabbath then that?. I try to stay away from work and try my hardest to focus on the boys. (except for that little nap)

Today our house was ruled by boys, I tried to snap a few pictures to just give you an idea of what you are missing. Here is the breakdown:

At church the two oldest boys chowed down Lifesavers. The whole pack; ate them like candy. We came home and they did the same. Monkey just told me somebody messed up and put nothing but red ones in one pack. Yes he can read, but obviously his perception still needs work.

Squawky came home and went through the fridge, like always. He eats everything. Last night he ate three man sized servings of "Misacetti" (spaghetti) in the same time I managed to eat one serving. When he becomes a teenager, I am sending him to live with Nana for the summers, she is used to feeding never ending boy bellies. It will give her time to reminisce.

Here are some pictures from the day:

Monkey as Superman with his head in the Cat in the Hat sorting hat.

Monkey's mommy told him if he says, "I hate Squawky" again she would wash his mouth out with soap. He said, we have pineapple flavored soap and it would taste good. I grabbed the camera and . . .

. . .the results.

Squawky comes out and shows off his Decepticon socks (evil Transformers)

5 Minutes later ...broken plate...


I made this picture small on purpose. If you have a strong stomach you will notice definite boy hanging from the right nostril.

The next little Transformer. . .

Wifey wanted to take some sweet pictures of the boys by the Christmas tree and this is what she got. . .

Tuesday, December 25, 2007

My favorite Christmas gift 2007

Some of my favorite Christmas songs: Last Christmas by Wham, Litttle St. Nick by The Beach Boys
You would think that my favorite Christmas present this year would be something from one of my little punks. I have to admit I will enjoy reading the Nixon biography from them, but it is not my favorite. My favorite present this year is revenge. ( I know, it sounds sooo Christmasy right? Sounds like a Tim Burton Christmas movie) My favorite this year is from Walker's baby.

You might remember a past blog "It's On" if you have not read this one yet, pause and review. It will explain so much. If you prefer to just read this blog, here is a short recap. Walker switched my Laker's license plate with a King's plate. I swore revenge.

About 2 months ago, I hatched my plan but knew I would have to have patience to pull it off in the best manner. Timing is everything. I put the plan in play and with the support of my wife and a secret confidant who shall not be named. (I will say that when the first Deanery medal is awarded they will definitely be in the running.) About two weeks ago I started planting the seed in Walker's head. I told him, in a wisper, "it's coming." The plan really came together in the last week and I had all the youth from our Ward (church congregation for you non-Mormons) go up to The Walker this last Sunday and tell him, "it's coming." He was really starting to get worried, I could see the uncontrollable twitch from his right eye.

To really make him worry, I asked him when he was leaving town. We have his house key and if he is gone, that leaves him so vulnerable. I heard he thought I was going to mow LA into his lawn. It was in consideration.

It is now Christmas morning and by now revenge has been served. There has been no call from Walker to let me know that he has felt the fury yet, he wouldn't let me know, but I know.

You see, this morning he received his very first Christmas gift from his daughter. A framed Photo. . .

. . .isn't it the sweetest little gift to give a Sacramento King's fan? Thanks Walker, you made my Christmas.

Friday, November 30, 2007

Break Down

Have you ever watched a movie and in the end the screenwriter reveals the obvious but surprising ending? You know, you think, 'man how did I miss that?' I had that experience this week. But first let me tell you how it all started. (Hayden_Elk-LakeSerenade_05_Hollywood.mp3)
A couple of weeks ago, Squawky fell out of the bed. I heard the crash, boom. (He hit his head on the nightstand on the way down, thus the crash. The boom was from him hitting the floor) I jumped up and ran to the room. He was fine after a good hard cry. Those that know me well, know I'm not just soft and gooey on the outside, but soft and gooey on the inside too. So I reminisced about the other times members of my family got hurt that I remembered. . .
the time Monkey fell down cement steps at grandma and grandpa's house. I gracefully displaced the wifey to get to him in my rush. (her side of the story is a little different)
The time my brother threw my sister across the room and she got a gash right above her eye, after hitting our old console TV (look it up kids, it was before flat panels.) The thing I remember most that time was when she saw her own blood, the scream was as blood curdling as the girls in the scary movies.
The time my brother fell off the top bunk and cracked his head open on the stereo speaker. (I had whined to my mom that night that I never got to sleep on the bottom, and she forced him to sleep on the top. I still don't know if it was an accident or a set up?)
The time I broke my brothers arm while we were Karate Kid fighting in the front yard. He tried to kick (The Crane) and I grabbed his foot and tried to throw him up in the air.
The time . . .OK so you get the point.

But I have to tell you about this. I was in 7th grade (February 13th, 1987 to be exact, you will understand why I recall this date later.) my friends and I used to play this game that we called Bike Tag. (sometimes it was bike laser tag, when we could get the guns to work) We went to a school in Lakewood California called Gompers (yea, I know how does that ever get to be a name for a school right?) Needless to say I am one of the rare people who knows that Samuel Gompers was a guy who helped form the unions. (I guess that means I should have a natural leaning towards the democrat way, good thing I only went there for a year) The whole school was pavement. There was only grass on the sidewalk and where the marquee was, so it was perfect for riding bikes all over the place. The way the game worked was just like ped-tag, you know on foot. The person that was "it" had to ride all the way to the fence and the rest of us took off. We could ride anywhere on the school grounds and there was no safe place. You rode until you got tagged by the "it" person. I don't know if this is grounds for the claim of the original x-games, but we thought it was pretty edgy. Needless to say there were many a time that the way the "it" guy tagged you was by crashing into you. Believe me, you can learn a lot from those old '70's safety videos that teach you how to crash.
Anyway, while playing one day, my sister decided to tag along. She had a girl bike, pink and everything. She hated that bike. She kept getting caught and could not catch the others on it. So I wanted to help her out, I let her ride mine and I took hers. I liked her bike, it had a banana seat and everything. I would sit on the back part of the seat and have more power to pedal.
I was being chased by one of my friends and took a corner too sharp, I would like to tell you that the crash was spectacular, I don't know, I just know somehow I was on the ground and the bike was on top and I had a terrible pain in my leg.
I had a friends dad take me home and I hopped up the steps on my good foot until the last step where somehow I decided to hop on the hurt leg. It hurt more than the original crash. Since my mom was a nurse she decided my leg was not broken and I would be fine. I slept on the couch all night long, in misery. She finally gave in and let me go to the hospital. I got a cast all the way up to the upper thigh. I was 14, barely a teenager and I was already proving to my mom I was right and she was wrong.
The reason I remember the date so well is that all I could think of was that I had chocolates that I wanted to give to my girlfriend because it was valentines and it just wouldn't be the same if I missed giving them to her on that day. I talked my mom into taking me to the school after the cast.
I walked to the office in my daisy duke pant on one side and my curled super tight acid-wash pant on the other side. I asked if I could go to my girlfriend's class and give her the chocolates. They thought I was the sweetest little freckle-faced, red head they had ever met. They would not let me deliver the chocolate but would deliver the it for me.
Flash forward:When Squawk fell that night I thought I should blog about this but there was no great moment to wrap it all up. That final part that makes you feel like you got some meat with your salad.
So, I thought that was good enough to blog about, but then. . .
I was sitting with The Walker at basketball this Wednesday when I complained that I had a slight pull in my right quad. He complained that I had finally gotten him out to basketball again and I was going to get hurt and he would be stuck coming to basketball by himself. (you see, I don't mind passing to The Walker, it is soooo cute watching the little guy go in the lane and throw his little underhand shot up to the basket.)
The next game started and I got a rebound and starting driving quickly up the court. ( I can't call it a fast break, I am 34 and white, there is no way that can be called fast) While driving one of the other guys got his foot under mine. I rolled my foot heard a pop and now I have my meat for you.
During the longest days of my working year in which I will walk the most. . . I will be wearing a black shoe on the right foot because I have a black boot on the left for my broken foot. See the sacrifices I make for you.
So you look at the facts and let me know what do you think caused it? I of course blame The Walker.
"Hear" is a great sentimental piece by Irish Indie Damien Rice

Monday, October 29, 2007

A moment of silence please.

It has been tough these last few weeks. We knew the time was coming. He finally passed tonight.

Let me take you back.

In 1996 I started working at Circuit City and Nana expressed her concern that perhaps it was a bad idea due to my known love of electronics, music and movies. She thought I would squander all my income. Oh she had no idea! (alright, who am I fooling, she knew everything, but never complained, just let me make my own choices)

My prized possession was a surround sound system that was way too big and way too loud. Two front speakers with 12" sub woofers built into each speaker to provide the best bottom end sounds. But the prize in the whole system was a JBL sub woofer. The thing could boom with a good resonance, not that cheap boom you hear in low rider cars (guilty pleasure: We Like the cars that go boom-Le Tigre. Sorry only owned it on Tape. Hey it was 9Th grade, we all made mistakes in our adolescence years.)

In its eulogy, I remember two things:
1. How the boys always watched my glee when the THX promo came on at the beginning of movies. (Which they always did with both hands over their ears)

2. My all time favorite experience with the ol' boy. THE GUY DOWNSTAIRS had a cheap AIWA mini-system. Not to bad for a little shelf system, but still little. The guy downstairs loved to play rap music really loud, it was obnoxious, not because it was rap music but because it sounded bad. One day Mike Ike, my roommate and I took these huge tower speakers and tipped them over onto the floor of the apartment sending the sound to The Guy Downstairs. I dipped into my pre-ipod CD collection (I know kids, dad is old) and busted out Bach's Toccata and Fugue in D minor (TocattaandFugueinDminor.mp3), da da da (pause/rest ) da da da da daa daaaa daaaaaaa. Then the bass really kicked in, ah sweet torture. We would go down three flights of stairs to see if we could feel it, not hear it on the bottom floor, to feel it. Oh, we could, and it was beautiful!
After coming back up the stairs I went into my bedroom while Mike Ike jumped into the shower. About a minute later, I heard what I thought was pounding at the door. I poked my head out of the bedroom and saw, THE GUY DOWNSTAIRS. . . upstairs. I think he was mad. I couldn't really tell, he was yelling but I could only see his mouth moving, I must not have got the message because he eventually reverted to sign language although if I ever see my kids using that kind of sign, I am washing their hands with soap. I stood there and he stood there, I think I heard the counter melody of wha-aaa-aaa-aaa, wa, wa , wa. (you know, Clint Eastwood, The Good, The Bad, The Ugly) The guys downstairs was a big dude. Looked like Karl Malone, I was basically John Stockton sized compared to him. I was just stalling for Mike Ike to get out of the shower, cause he always comes out with just a towel on, and he was a big boy. When Mike Ike came out, The GUY DOWNSTAIRS went back downstairs, decrescendo. . .mezzo-piano. . .piano. . .pianissimo. . . pianississimo. The 'ol sub must have made Bach proud.

So please pause your movie, and for one breif moment, let silence ring.

OK, all done, come on boys we're going sub shopping. Here is a song that I would not normally post, but I think the sub would have wanted something with a little bass. I'llBeMissingYou.mp3

Sunday, October 14, 2007

So Tired!

A complimentary song:01SoTired.m4a by Eric Clapton (new Clapton autobiography just released this past Tuesday)

It seems like it should be Spring not Fall. Everyone is having babies. First question is what is wrong with you people? Do you like suffering? Who in their right mind wants to be pregnant in summer? Anyway, with the thought of all of you (Walkers, Johnsons, Ferkins, and more) I dedicate this blog entry.

Back in the Spring of '01 we where a young struggling family. I was working 3 jobs and we had our first baby, Monkey. (Get your nachos ready cause here comes the cheese) He was our everything! We dressed him "cute." We were at his beck and call. While we were not condescending enough to think that he was the cutest little baby ever, he was the cutest we had seen. I remember taking him home from the hospital and pointing out the trees and the sky telling him about the order of the Cosmos. I was the typical overprotective parent, but only half that of Wifeys. That car seat belt had to be no less than 1 centimeter from his chin, and you know my work was inspected every time. Sound familiar to all you first time parents. The one thing I don't do is preach to you, do what you want, spoil, do it now while you can.

People used to tell us Monkey was a great baby. All I remember is that every time I turned around in bed my wife was gone. She was "always" up. I used to freak out when there was a noise. I don't remember a time we were so tired. Because I worked so much at the time and I am a fumbling idiot when I am awakened in the dead of night, Wifey did all the work. Even then,I thought he would never sleep through the night. Like Clapton says paraphrasing a little: thank goodness your momma is a natural!"

So flash forward to '07. The children don't cry through the night, but they have a tendency to visit our bed. Either they are that good or I just sleep that deep that many mornings I awake to them in the bed and I have no idea when they showed up. Last night Sqwuak came to bed and started scratching. It is like nails on a chalkboard for Wifeys and me because we know he is tearing himself up.) He has eczema and if you ever met him you probably think he is accident prone, not so, just scratches a lot! So much so that he has open sores in every hinge on his body. He scratches so much he has thick scar tissue under the sores. While he sleeps he scratches. We try and get him to stop, of course that just makes him mad and he starts kicking and crying. Then we try to scratch for him because we won't dig into his skin with our nails like he does. That makes him mad, so then we try and give him lotion. Inevitably one of us parents usually leaves the bed and heads for the couch. Last night, Sqwuak got up and followed wifey around. She would come back and he would come back, she would go and he would go. It was odd. Eventually she got him to sleep on the couch. The last thing I heard from her is, "you're getting up with the boys in the morning." We have had our children around for 6 years and they still get us up almost every night.

Monkey is scary at night. No, not scared, scary. He moves in stealth. He sometimes needs to go to the bathroom. He will come and stand by the side of the bed. I don't know how long he stands there, I just know that when I wake in the middle of the night, I don't expect to see a face a few inches from my bed. (now you know why I don't sleep with a bat under my pillow) In the morning when he decides he no longer wants to sleep he comes and sits on the bed. He will sit there awake for 45 minutes. Trying every so often to get one of us up. He is learning to tell time and will ask what time we are getting up. (Once he learns that certain times mean he should still sleep, I am changing the clocks in the bedroom back a few hours.)

I used to be amazed because Nana never got up to an alarm. I understand now, I painfully understand.

One would hope we could nap during the day time. Don't even think about it. I think the boys have super hearing and recognize the change in my breathing pattern, because I will have just fallen asleep and I will be hit with something, jumped on (sqwuaks favorite move) or just told to wake up really really loud. I had a friend once who could sleep with his eyes open, it was freaky then, I covet that now.

The good news, I still love'em and even though I don't come to every beck and call, I still think about it.

See if this will help get the buggers to sleep: 2-13GoodNight.m4a by the Beatles, but you already knew that.

Sunday, September 23, 2007

It's On

When I was in high school some friends decided to ditch me at a Sizzler. Thus began the whip cream incidents. There are all kinds of hazing in this world, most of it in good fun. This is just that.

While my friends ditched me, I ran back inside and grabbed a handful of whip cream (OK, I used a spoon, but it doesn't sound as cool to say I spooned a proper cup full of whipped cream into my palm) and when they came back around I took all the whipped cream and slammed it all over the windshield.

I was always the instigator. There were 5 friends at the time. We were all band geeks which explains why this whole story is rated G. Not even PG. I decided we should whip every one of the guys in the group.

The first victim was a guy named Philip. We were down in National City. Our hotel was across the parking lot from a Ralph's grocery store. We bought about 5 cans. We hung out in the room invited some girls that would provide the embarrassment gossip to the rest of the group and poor Phil came in and was being his normal self. (he always thought he was cooler than an ice sculptor, the guy played the French Horn, cool was not in the description) He was leaning against the wall and we creamed him. He got 4 cans of cream all over him. Ahhh nerdy fun. Nerdy, tasty fun.

We all took turns getting creamed. One night we raced through the back streets and alleys of our home town as one car had a couple of guys with the cream and one had me (uncreamed at the time) and Phil. I eventually took a little.

The best event was getting a guy in our group named Mark. We started at Sizzler again for old time sakes. We had the cans under the drivers seat and as we were getting out of the car, Mark looked at me in the back seat. I was reaching down for the cans and he bolted. What insued was a two hour chase through a very busy intersection which had a mall on one side some strip mall shops on the other side and an Albertsons shopping center on the other. Mark was great game. He was not going to go down easily. Once when we had him cornered in front of a car he screamed at a guy in a car, "stop that man" pointing at one of us with a can. The guy was not quite sure what was going on, and we were stunned at his defensive play. We ran back and forth those four corners for a long time. We lost him a few times. I went into the donut shop and asked if they had seen a guy acting very paranoid and scared around. They pointed through the back door and let us out the back of the shop. We eventually caught him, but since we had been chasing him and shooting of our cans we were mostly out by the time we got him.

So here is the point of the whole story. I love a little challenge, and I like to get even.

Here is the issue: today on the way home. I was "racing" the boys and Wifey in the other mini-van (yes we have two, oh the shame) when I looked in my rear view mirror to see how far ahead I was. I looked in the mirror and saw this:

Now anybody that knows anything about me knows that I am a Lakers Fan. Now we don't have the rivalry of say the Red Sox and the Yankee's but we had a few years that you would not really want to put fans from these two teams in the same room alone, at least without some sort of sedation. I loved beating the Kings every year. It was to me the true Finals.

Since there is only ten King's fans left in the world and 9 of them live in the Bay area. I knew the Walker was responsible. I called him, told him he scrapbooks well (notice the handiwork in the picture) and that there would be vengeance. He said there was no need for that. Well I refer you to the line from Admiral Yamamoto in Tora Tora Tora (although considered a misquote by many historians) " "I fear all we have done is to awaken a sleeping giant and fill him with a terrible resolve."

I will put it in movie terms a Queen can understand: From Bring it on: "Oh, I'll bring it."

Good job Walker, it was fun, just sleep with one eye open buddy. Until then, enjoy this little diddy : 05ItsGoodToBeKing.m4a

Sunday, September 2, 2007

Linky Stories

Ease into this one, it's gonna be a long road. . .Somewhere over the rainbow by brother IZ. 10OvertheRainbow.m4a

As many of you know we have a tradition every night before the boys go to bed called "Linky Stories"
The seed for Linky stories was planted years ago when I found out that Winnie the Pooh stories originated from the father creating the characters to tell his son stories. I thought, man I am not cool. I could never think up those amazing characters.
One night the boys wanted a book and I was lying in their bed with them and I had already turned out the lights. So I suggested that we have a story about Linky. . .that is how it all started.
Every Linky story starts the same, "Last night while you boys where sleeping, Linky got up out of bed. . ."
Now I can't get the boys to go to bed until they have heard one. Some are funny, some are really lame. I can always tell if they are good if Liam laughs really hard. No matter the result, they are always outrageous.
When we first started they were just about Linky and his adventures. He had gone to the Moon to get some Cheese, got stuck in Uncle Timmy's AWAC radar detecter spinning and spinning until he was sick. He likes to ride Monkeys bike with a helmet of course. . .on his bum.
With time the story evolved into more characters and added a villan. Linky now goes out on adventures with his buddy Paul and baby Ivy. (Last night they had a rootbeer drinking contest, with baby Ivy finishing the whole can while the other two quit and said it burned! (Of course there was a fantastic belch at the end, way to go baby Ivy) There is also a villan. (surprised myself right now by realizing I have completely missed the opportunity to cast any of my sister-in-laws in this role, still time) The villan goes by "The Walker" (currently working on bad guy theme music) Poor guy has suffered at the hands of Linky and his friends. Their favorite is a wet willie while he is sleeping or putting salt in his sugar jar. (Linky likes to mess with The Walker's ears becuase The Walker is training to be an audiologist and if you went to an audiologist who was wearing hearing aides would you buy?)
Occasionally one surprises me. Here is a recent favorite. It involves sports. (side note entry: I have always been amazed how sports always seem to be so close to tied when it comes to the last minutes of the game, the Lakers can be up by 23 points in the beginning of the 4th and then be down by one in the last seconds, drives me crazy! ) Well we had just got an inflatable ball the size of a beach ball. The boys had been playing with it all day so it had lost some of its air. When the boys were laying down I grabbed the ball and since Linky was bouncing up and down in his crib, decided to play a version of volleyball. Of course we had to use The Walker. He was the opponent. It started by us traveling back into the night when The Walker came over and challenged the Linky to a game. We threw the ball into Linky's crib and explained all it took was Linky to throw the beach ball which is about 3/4 his size over his crib. If Linky could get the ball over, it was a point for him, if not the point went to the Walker. I thought for sure the Walker was going to win this round.
Linky had a hard time getting the ball out of the crib as he picked it up and tried to throw it out and he would end up just knocking himself down because he would hit the rim of the crib. He dug himself quite the hole, down 0-7. Walker was beside himself. He thought his plan of playing with a bigger ball was working in his favor. Baby Ivy called time-out, gave the kid some Vitamin D milk to get some vital fluids in him. (is it in you? Yes, I know it should be Got Milk, but it's a play on the sport thing with a kid, ah nevermind)
Linky came back strong! (do realize, this is Linky really playing the game, I am just calling them as they happen) Linky finally got one over the net. The boys went nuts. Jumping up and down on their bed in laughter. The rally was on, Linky scored 12 consecutive points to take the lead, 12-7. In this sport you need 15 to win, at this point we thought for sure it was a lock, being a seasoned sportscaster, I knew better. I had played many a sport against the Walker and despite his size and stature (small and round in the middle, dramatized a little for effect) he could play a mean game. On the next serve Linky hit the rim of the crib and the ball bounced back and hit him in the face, knocking his pacifier out, just visulize Rocky taking a punch from Appollo in slow motion and losing his mouth guard. Linky picked him self with a little help from Baby Ivy and a pep talk from Paul, but Linky was obviously rattled. He let the Walker get back in the game. By the time Baby called time-out, the score was 12-14. (seriously here, this is how the game went down. You could just see the excitement in the Walker's eyes.)
Linky picked up the ball slowly approached the rim of the crib and . . . cue the tense movie music and slammed it over the rim. 13-14, by this time the boys were on the edge of the bed, I am sure Sqwaks pull-up was full from laughing so much. Linky looked at the ball, handled it and tossed it over the rim again. Tie Score! We all went nuts including this sportscaster, yelling this is what dreams are made of and all the rest of the Bob Costa's junk you get sick of every Olympics.
This is it folks, the final serve, when this ball touches the ground, one of these men who has spent the last 15 minutes of his life preparing for this game will walk home a champion holding the flag of victory while another the socks of defeet. (hey, it is a kids story). I could not believe the score was tied at 14, it was like watching a game I really cared about. Linky took a couple of extra sucks of the pacifier he tossed it up. . . The Walker bounced anxious to see where it would land. . .slow motion starts here, music stops. . .the ball is up. . . it is all on the line, will it clear, or will it fall back into the crib? It sores through the air hits the rim and . . .

. . .bounces over the edge onto the floor. LINKY WINS, LINKY WINS, I CAN'T BELIEVE IT LINKY WINS!!!

The boys went nuts, heck I went nuts it was the greatest sports victory in the history of the Deanery.
Anyway, most of the time the stories are much more subdued, but I think this one gave Pooh a run for his money.

Roll credits and the boys favorite movie music: 02AgustusGloop.m4a

Saturday, August 25, 2007

Scootin around

push play: "I don't want a pickle, just want to ride my motor-sickle" the motorcycle song - arlo guthrie alice's resturant 06TheMotorcycleSong.m4a (this and all the other music links will allow you to download the songs if you have itunes. Free legal music, wow!)

So somehow I managed to talk wifey into letting me get a scooter this year. You have to know that I have been planting this seed for about 3 years. I was looking for a Stella, but since they are not making them right now I was planning on giving up. That was until I found an '04 Vespa that only had 100 miles on it. I took it for a ride and was sold. I negotiated on the price like I have been taught and it was mine. Since I got it here are some things I have noticed/learned.

1. Other motorcyclists don't know what to do with scooter riders. They have these special salutes, where they drop their left hand down about 45 degrees from the handle and nod their heads in respect. The guys with the rocket bikes, don't wave at scooterists. Way too cool. The Harley crowd is split. The old dudes with the jackets will wave every time. ( I have to admit, I was kind of surprized by this) The new jacks on the Harleys, not so much. My favorite is when one of the guys that would not usually waves see you at night and can only tell that it is a one light vehicle, they wave. . . and as soon as they realize their mistake, you can see the horror in their face, the hand usually drops quickly to get a scratch or something. I have tried to figure out what to do, and so I decided to wave at all of them. I got the thing because I wanted to have fun, this just adds to it.

2. It is impossible to get pulled over for speeding. Reason being that even though I take the thing about 60mph every day to work, I am riding a scooter, it looks like I am going 22mph.

3. If I duck my head to streamline with the scooter, I can gain a few extra mph.

4. I used to think that the reason people that rode on motorcycles where too cool to smile. That may still be the majority of the truth, but let me just say a bug in the mouth at 45mph is a mistake you only make once.

5. When I ride the scooter, it is "nerdy" when my wife rides it, it is "cute"

6. A motorcycle is for a man who has to prove who he is , a scooter is for a man who already knows who he is.

7. Kindergarteners and 1st graders think Monkey is the coolest when he rides.

8. Rain hurts.

9. Everyone has a comment. My favorite so far, happened when I was riding in the downtown area which was really busy on this Friday night. I was riding next to Timmy who was on his big 'ol motorcycle and a high school kid yells, "hey I like your scooter, it's really. . .red."

10. you can do a wheelie on a scooter.

Turn up the volume, we are in the final stretch. (I use my ipod every time I ride, I can do all the controls without looking, it makes it nice.) "I'm gettin' bugged driving up and down the same old strip gotta find a new place where the kids are hip My buddies and me are getting real well known, Yeah, the bad guys know us and they leave us alone" Get around - Beach Boys Good Vibrations Boxed Set- I am having a hard time finding this song on my drive, I will post a link asap.

Thursday, August 23, 2007

Wifey Rules

Strike up the band: "a women needs a man like a

fish needs a bicycle" -

U2 -Tryin to throw your arms around the world, Achtung baby09TryinToThrowYourArmsAround.m4a

Do you remember when you were a child and you were watching a TV show that you were not quite sure you were allowed to watch? What did you do, did you watch it?

Not my kids. During the first cell of a cartoon (I guess they are all digital now, so maybe they are called something else) this is what you hear, "moooooooommmmmmyyy, can we waaaatchhhh this sssssshoooow?" Now you probably think, so what, that happens in every good childs home. Here is the catch, I am sitting right next to the child, not across the room, not on the other square on the couch, right next to them cheek to cheek. Oh and by the way. . . I turned the show on.

I told you about wifey rules: they are not written down anywhere, but as the boys we know them.

When daddy says it's bed time, the boys know they might get one more show, or one book, or even an extra Linky story. . .
When mommy says it's bed time, sure enough, it is, it's like she can turn down the sun.

When mommy thinks it's cold in the house, as sweaty as we might be, we all think it is cold in the house.

When mommy wants Texas Roadhouse, we suffer through it.

Monkey will ask me a question about life, and I could quote the Encyclopedia Britannica, but until mommy puts her seal of approval, I might as well be quoting the national enquirer.

We live in a mommycratic house, and we love it. . . at least she tells us we do.

Closing song: (Ha, you thought Celine Dion would make it here. Some rules were meant to be broken. ) Pretty girl you are the light of my life, I mean my everything You're the one I chose to make my wife, that's why you wear my ring.And when I'm feeling down and out, you're the one who will bail me out My love will always guide me home, pretty girl. Eric Clapton - Pretty Girl,Music and Cigarettes 06PrettyGirl.m4a

Monday, August 20, 2007

Are you ready to Transform?

Cue Music: Love and Peace or Else- U2 How to dismantle an atomic bomb. "Lay down your guns, all you daughters of Zion, all you Abrahams sons. . .we need some love and peace."

So as promised, Monkey started 1st grade. The parking lot was busier than the lines outside my store on Black Friday. The kids were all there with their new tennies on. Flashback: I remember shopping for school. It was the best part of going back to school. There was basically two different versions of this activity. The first tradition involved my foster mom taking me to K-mart and getting whatever she wanted me to wear. More than anything I remember the first time I got shoes with velcro. Wow, what an experience, I don't know how many times I opened and closed those things my first couple of days in school to try and get attention to my suppossed coolness. I was no dummy either, I knew when was the best time to do it. (popularity is all about timing and style) It was when I got to be the class lead and the whole (ok, half) of the class was walking behind me. "Teacher, I need to stop my shoelaces are untied" (what else was I suppossed to say, I was in first grade) I would stop and turn toward the line and unvelcro my shoes, pull them tight and of course you never look at the class, you got to hide your coolness, that is part of being cool, not acting like it, velcro 'em back up.

Now there is one thing about K-mart I hate! As a matter of fact when they went bankrupt a few years back this was the first thing I thought, good, now there are no other children that will have to wear TOUGHSKINS!! I hate those pants. (Sorry Ms. Hannah, she always told us not to use the word Hate. "It is such a strong word," She would say, well it's because of that strong feeling that I reiterate, I hate toughskins. If you have never had the pleasure of wearing them know this. . .you can't destroy them. The knees were so reinforced with patches that you almost couldn't bend at the knee. The knees where so tough that when you ran, you looked like you where running on stilts. I sometimes wonder if those stunt guys who get dragged behind a car in the movies wear these pants. How was I supposed to get new jeans if I couldn't ruin the old ones.

The second version of school shopping was my mom would take us to the mall. Wow, a whole mall! We would get $100.00. You know the first thing I bought was Levi's. I don't even remember much else, just remember spending $20.00 on a pair of authentic Levis. This was sometime around 5th grade. I am sure my foster mom was better at creating the wardrobe with a limited amount of California tax payers money, but I had style now. I had no problem washing the pants every day to wear them the next.

Flashback over.

So standing there waiting with all the other children and their parents I am doing fine, no tears. Pretty proud too. Monkey is decked out in Transformer. Transformer backpack, with attached transformer lunchbox, wearing a Transformer shirt. (Optimus Prime shirt and backpack, BumbleBee lunch box) I wonder to myself how many other parents have taught their children to love Transformers like myself and notice there is a few. One kid had a bumblebee backpack, one kid had shoes. (character shoes are banned in our house, wifey rules, by the way, that is a blog all in itself) So I am content that my kid is in the cool group. Good thing I didn't go with that whole Barney thing I had planned for him. It was about a minute until they let us in when I saw the school poster board that had a picture of Optimus Prime and it said "are you ready to Transform" I lost it. I knew this was another chapter in his life, he was going to Transform by the end of the year he will have new friends, new favorite foods from the cafeteria, he might even get his first crush. (Mine in 1st grade was Dawn, little pure blond haired girl, loved her so much I switched seats with a kid to sit by her. She was great and my love was so strong I didn't even mock her when she peed in her chair and it dripped on the floor next to me. I just figured she was so excited to sit next to me, she literaly couldn't contain herself.

So anyway, I delivered the little guy to class and he pretty much shooed me off, "bye dad."

"Bye son", sniffle sniffle.

P.S. I have decided Monkey is going to work for a future President of the United States. The reason I believe this is because every time I pick him up from school and excitedly ask him what he did in school today, 9 out of 10 times he says "I don't really remember."

Fade out: Line'em up by James Taylor (A song about Nixon's last moments in the White House) 01LineEmUp.m4a

We all have dreams

This explains it all

Tuesday, August 7, 2007

Why am I doing this?

I have thought of doing a blog ever since the day I heard of it, but I thought, I don't have anything to say online. I am not as opinionated and argumentative as I used to be. (I am sure there are some people who would argue, but we all know they are wrong.)

I have the punctuation skills of a 3rd grader and the spelling skills of a 4th grader.

But. . .

I thought, this is for the boys in the end, now I don't have to do that pesky journal thing that I keep telling myself that I need to do.

Now the question is what how to compose this information and how much to share. I like the idea of a blog in that it is a lazy man's way of getting out of many e-mails (by the way did you know that 1972 was the first year e-mails were created?)

I have only one complaint! No music! How can I tell a story without having the music that sets the mood on playing in the background. (currently: todd thibaud- Sweet Destiny; courtesy of, thanks for that Evan!)

So I have already demonstrated my obnoxious skills, and scatterbrained communication. So here is what you came here for anyway.

The Familia.

We are composed of many different parts. Numerous parts Grandpa, a mix of his families smiles, two parts bad daddy hair, a pinch of uncle nate's hair, two pieces of auntie Em's ears and the sprinkling of Wifeys' beautiful eyes and then there is the signature bent pinkie! That makes up the boys. In order: Monkey, Squawky, Linky. Wifeys (aka the women) and me. (I am pining for a little doggy, but have yet to prevail!)

This has been a great summer. We had soooooo much rain. We received over 30 inches in June. (I saw a stat that said L.A. only got 1.2 inches) Needless to say, I was the most excited about it. My job has done well with all the growing grass. I sell lots of Tractors because of it. We had floods all around us, but nothing happened on our street. Kind of made the Tornado weather boring though because the atmosphere was settled, no conflict. I think that is my favorite part of the year. I am excited to say we even had to get into the shelter one evening.

Monkey will be going into first grade this year. One week actually. I was accused of being sentimental last year when he went to Kindergarten. I have my hankie ready to go for first grade. He will be gone all day and because of work, I will only be able to spend one whole day with him a week and that is Sunday which is usually filled with other distractions.

Squawky just cut his head open doing what he does best, jumping around and "being crazy" as Wifeys likes to put it. He survived- his motivation for healing; the jumpzone. A bouncing castle type place. He is still suffering from allergies and allergy induced asthma. The last couple of days have been rough. He has been doing "breathing" 3-4 daily.

Linky has his own dance move. You sit on the floor, put your right leg straight out, left leg tucked in, right hand raised to the square, head turned to the left and bounce up and down. (obviously he has his mother's moves, because I could even do the hand and head thing at the same time.)

Wifeys has become the scapbooking queen. The boys lost part of their toy room to a new table and shelves on the wall to handle the mass amount of scrapbooking stuff. Most people talk of upgrading their house to make way for a new child, she talks of upgrading to a larger house to get her own scrapbooking room. I do need to state for the record that I only have one collection of anything, it is music and it all sits on my little ipod, so the balance is out of whack. (of course I am not counting the 45 inch tv and surround sound that takes up its fair portion of the living room)

I continue to work as a store manager for another big box retailer. It is a thankless job, I don't have people ever come up to me and say, "thanks for helping me pick out that shirt, I never would have got that date with that hot girl tonight", or "my marriage is so much better now that I have that mower and trimmer"; but it pays the bills. There are days I love it though. It helps with my need to have everything in order. I can go and straighten a whole aisle of batteries when ever I want. I also like to try and figure people out and their buying habits. I am the bad guy that puts video games right by the register so your kids will beg you for one. (hey, I made $7000 in sales on $19.99 games this month, beating all the other stores by over 160%) By my calculations, that is 350 blissfully happy children. I am making the world a better place.

So, there you have it. You are kind off caught up.

ending song: roses from my friends (live version prefered) by Ben Harper featuring one of my all time favorite lines: "he that laughs last, cried first" Take that steve! (he was the bully that used to beat me in 1st grade, I whiffled him in the fourth, I am not that quick) 2-02RosesFromMyFriends.m4a;01_-

P.S A few fun links not to be taken to seriously though. (blame Tyler, he got me stumbling in the first place!)

5 types of Mormons 2

How to man hug


Main Entry: dean·ery

Pronunciation: 'dEn-rE, 'dE-n&-rE

Function: noun

Inflected Form(s): plural -er·ies:

the office, jurisdiction, or official residence of a dean