Friday, August 27, 2010
Episode 102: Booooots
Monica has these rain boots. They confused the baby. The rest is self explanatory. Watch them in order as she tries to put them on, eventually gets them on (with help) and proceeds to dance. Enjoy.
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Episode 101: Pets and lying to your children
In my childhood and adult life I have had a number of traumatic animal related incidents. From the time my father told me that he ran over a bunny with the lawn mower to the morning I saw my own cat get hit by a car while I was waiting for the bus. Something I still somehow blame myself for. In between there was the time my other cat got hit by a car (and subsequently put out of it's misery by my father with a shotgun) and the day that I came home from school to find that my golden retriever, Sarah, was no longer living with us. My father told me that he took her to a farm because she pounced and old lady and almost killed her. For years I didn't believe him, but my dad is a pretty honest guy and considering he told me about shooting the cat and running over the bunny, I assume that he really did just give her away. Either way, that is about the worst possible news a 7-year old can hear. Your dog is gone. Even if it is still alive.
My point is that as parents there will inevitably come a time when something dies that will traumatize your child and the way that you handle it is very important. My father always took an honest policy with me about everything, thus I am now aware of many gruesome deaths that have victimized my pets, and I appreciate that. I will try to do the same when Av is older because I personally feel that the more experience you have dealing with trauma as a young child the easier it is to internally cope with it as an adult. And we all see how normal, well adjusted and rational I am. See, and I skipped most of my psychology elective in college, too. That said, here is a story about me not doing any of that.
August has been a rough pet month here on Roslyn Street. First, Monica's prized box turtle, Mookie, finally bit the dust after almost 15 years of curling up in a dark corner and not eating. Seriously, this thing was unreal. It ate like twice a year. When you let it out of the cage it found the nearest dark corner and stood there, not moving. Anyway, the thing finally died a few weeks ago and we had to bury it under a tree at Forest River Park. Very sad. We all loved Mookie. For Av's part, she had no attachment to the turtle whatsoever and spent the 'funeral' bitching at us to go to the playground. Conflict number one- avoided.
Unfortunately, the same cannot be said for her pet beta fish, 'Kitty,' who passed away a few days ago, creating quite the conundrum for dad. Here is how it went down. First, I must tell you that we have two adult betas that live in the kitchen and playroom, respectively. I like betas. They are colorful, they live much longer than most fish, and they don't require any sort of special tank or food. You can put them in anything, give them fish food twice a day and they are happy. Case and point: Our betas live in a coffee pot and a flower vase and they have lived for over a year. Try doing that with a goldfish. It will be dead in a week. Anyway, one day while killing time at the pet store I came across this tiny, Av sized beta and decided it would be fun to buy it for her and put it in her room as her very own pet. I had never seen a beta that small, and one that was almost entirely white, so I decided I had to go for it.
Av fell in love with the fish almost instantly. Every morning she pulled at my pant leg for me to lift her up so she could feed it. In love. Fast forward to Saturday morning. Av and Monica were at her mother's house and I was making the rounds feeding the fish when I noticed that the one in Av's room was unresponsive. Anyone who has ever seen a beta fish die of natural causes knows that it doesn't just float to the top like a goldfish. It fights. Usually it is nose down on the rocks, sometimes spinning around. It won't eat and, usually, within a few minutes it will move on to the beta fish afterlife. This is exactly what I saw Saturday morning. Confused, as we had only purchased this fish a month or so ago, I decided that the tiny, albino beta probably had some sort of fish AIDS and was not long fort this world anyway. That was why it was so tiny, and a dollar cheaper than the other betas at the store. I had a short moment of silence and set out to Petsmart to replace it before Av got home. Yeah, there was no way I was going to tell her. She would be crushed. I just went to the store and hoped that they had something similar in color so that she wouldn't notice.
Of course, when I got to Petsmart all of the little white AIDS betas were gone, and they only had regular guys, so I got her a silver and blue one and decided I would play dumb if she asked any questions. Lying to your kids: the best way to avoid explaining the pointlessness and misery of life.
Here is the problem. I got home with the new fish only to realized that the old fish had made a miraculous recovery. It was swimming in circles around his tank and looked very alive. To test it out I sprinkled in some food. No go. The little guy had no interest and quickly lost energy again and nosed in to the rocks. It was very clear that this fish was going to die, it just hadn't yet. What do I do? I had this very alive replacement fish ready to go. I even bought it new rocks and a tank decoration so it didn't have to live among the death.
I was faced with an incredible dilemma. Hours before the baby was set to be home I needed to replace dying fish with healthy fish, but I didn't have the heart to flush the old guy until he was dead. That seems like an awful way to go. I battled a strong inner conflict for close to a half hour before I decided that I would spare old fish a flush, but I would do what I could to naturally speed up its death. So, I took him out of the AIDS tank and put him in a wine glass, which I placed on the back porch. I figured maybe a stray cat or a bird would come along and have lunch, or maybe one of our cats would finally grow a set and eat him. Yeah, I know that is cruel, but at least that is like some circle of life stuff and not just me flushing it down the toilet to live with that dump I took when I woke up. Don't judge me.
I put the old fish in the cup and made it very accessible to my cats and to any other strays in the neighborhood. I set up the new fish and cleaned out the coffee pot and flower vase for the other two and checked back outside. Nothing. Still alive. Still hurting. At this point it was spinning in circles and smashing its face off the side of the glass. I tried to feed it again, convincing myself that if it ate I would find it a regular home, but it didn't, meaning that it was just slowly dying of fish AIDS. My next step has been criticized by some. I decided that I would add a little bit of vodka to the water. Apparently this is cruel. I just figured the fish would catch a buzz and die of alcohol poisoning. It seemed like a nice way to go. If I was going to kill myself I'd sure rather drink or take a ton of drugs then jump off a bridge or shoot myself. At least have a little bit of fun, right?
Anyway, before you go calling PETA, know that the vodka didn't kill the fish, either. It was still doing the swim in a circle, nose in to the bottom of the glass thing. I still didn't have the heart to flush it. What is wrong with me? Long story short, and I know this is anti-climactic, but I left it out overnight and when I woke up it was dead. I am going to say that the fish AIDS probably just killed it naturally, but there is a chance that it got a little too cold at night and that is what killed it. Either way, it is dead.
Av didn't notice the difference in fish, although she did quickly point out the way that I redecorated the tank, but I still had to sneak the old fish inside and flush it without her seeing. Not as easy as you think. I almost got bagged twice walking in to the bathroom (where she usually follows me because she likes to watch me pee, kids are so weird) but I was able to sneak it in and flush it down. Crisis averted. Was it an unceremonious way for the poor little guy to go? Yeah, it was. But it is better than being flushed alive, right? Right. So, the moral for today is 18 months is way to young for a 'my fish died' lesson. I am saving all of my emotional ammo for when Nugget finally dies of being a fat, stagnant, lazy cat in a few years.
My point is that as parents there will inevitably come a time when something dies that will traumatize your child and the way that you handle it is very important. My father always took an honest policy with me about everything, thus I am now aware of many gruesome deaths that have victimized my pets, and I appreciate that. I will try to do the same when Av is older because I personally feel that the more experience you have dealing with trauma as a young child the easier it is to internally cope with it as an adult. And we all see how normal, well adjusted and rational I am. See, and I skipped most of my psychology elective in college, too. That said, here is a story about me not doing any of that.
August has been a rough pet month here on Roslyn Street. First, Monica's prized box turtle, Mookie, finally bit the dust after almost 15 years of curling up in a dark corner and not eating. Seriously, this thing was unreal. It ate like twice a year. When you let it out of the cage it found the nearest dark corner and stood there, not moving. Anyway, the thing finally died a few weeks ago and we had to bury it under a tree at Forest River Park. Very sad. We all loved Mookie. For Av's part, she had no attachment to the turtle whatsoever and spent the 'funeral' bitching at us to go to the playground. Conflict number one- avoided.
Unfortunately, the same cannot be said for her pet beta fish, 'Kitty,' who passed away a few days ago, creating quite the conundrum for dad. Here is how it went down. First, I must tell you that we have two adult betas that live in the kitchen and playroom, respectively. I like betas. They are colorful, they live much longer than most fish, and they don't require any sort of special tank or food. You can put them in anything, give them fish food twice a day and they are happy. Case and point: Our betas live in a coffee pot and a flower vase and they have lived for over a year. Try doing that with a goldfish. It will be dead in a week. Anyway, one day while killing time at the pet store I came across this tiny, Av sized beta and decided it would be fun to buy it for her and put it in her room as her very own pet. I had never seen a beta that small, and one that was almost entirely white, so I decided I had to go for it.
Av fell in love with the fish almost instantly. Every morning she pulled at my pant leg for me to lift her up so she could feed it. In love. Fast forward to Saturday morning. Av and Monica were at her mother's house and I was making the rounds feeding the fish when I noticed that the one in Av's room was unresponsive. Anyone who has ever seen a beta fish die of natural causes knows that it doesn't just float to the top like a goldfish. It fights. Usually it is nose down on the rocks, sometimes spinning around. It won't eat and, usually, within a few minutes it will move on to the beta fish afterlife. This is exactly what I saw Saturday morning. Confused, as we had only purchased this fish a month or so ago, I decided that the tiny, albino beta probably had some sort of fish AIDS and was not long fort this world anyway. That was why it was so tiny, and a dollar cheaper than the other betas at the store. I had a short moment of silence and set out to Petsmart to replace it before Av got home. Yeah, there was no way I was going to tell her. She would be crushed. I just went to the store and hoped that they had something similar in color so that she wouldn't notice.
Of course, when I got to Petsmart all of the little white AIDS betas were gone, and they only had regular guys, so I got her a silver and blue one and decided I would play dumb if she asked any questions. Lying to your kids: the best way to avoid explaining the pointlessness and misery of life.
Here is the problem. I got home with the new fish only to realized that the old fish had made a miraculous recovery. It was swimming in circles around his tank and looked very alive. To test it out I sprinkled in some food. No go. The little guy had no interest and quickly lost energy again and nosed in to the rocks. It was very clear that this fish was going to die, it just hadn't yet. What do I do? I had this very alive replacement fish ready to go. I even bought it new rocks and a tank decoration so it didn't have to live among the death.
I was faced with an incredible dilemma. Hours before the baby was set to be home I needed to replace dying fish with healthy fish, but I didn't have the heart to flush the old guy until he was dead. That seems like an awful way to go. I battled a strong inner conflict for close to a half hour before I decided that I would spare old fish a flush, but I would do what I could to naturally speed up its death. So, I took him out of the AIDS tank and put him in a wine glass, which I placed on the back porch. I figured maybe a stray cat or a bird would come along and have lunch, or maybe one of our cats would finally grow a set and eat him. Yeah, I know that is cruel, but at least that is like some circle of life stuff and not just me flushing it down the toilet to live with that dump I took when I woke up. Don't judge me.
I put the old fish in the cup and made it very accessible to my cats and to any other strays in the neighborhood. I set up the new fish and cleaned out the coffee pot and flower vase for the other two and checked back outside. Nothing. Still alive. Still hurting. At this point it was spinning in circles and smashing its face off the side of the glass. I tried to feed it again, convincing myself that if it ate I would find it a regular home, but it didn't, meaning that it was just slowly dying of fish AIDS. My next step has been criticized by some. I decided that I would add a little bit of vodka to the water. Apparently this is cruel. I just figured the fish would catch a buzz and die of alcohol poisoning. It seemed like a nice way to go. If I was going to kill myself I'd sure rather drink or take a ton of drugs then jump off a bridge or shoot myself. At least have a little bit of fun, right?
Anyway, before you go calling PETA, know that the vodka didn't kill the fish, either. It was still doing the swim in a circle, nose in to the bottom of the glass thing. I still didn't have the heart to flush it. What is wrong with me? Long story short, and I know this is anti-climactic, but I left it out overnight and when I woke up it was dead. I am going to say that the fish AIDS probably just killed it naturally, but there is a chance that it got a little too cold at night and that is what killed it. Either way, it is dead.
Av didn't notice the difference in fish, although she did quickly point out the way that I redecorated the tank, but I still had to sneak the old fish inside and flush it without her seeing. Not as easy as you think. I almost got bagged twice walking in to the bathroom (where she usually follows me because she likes to watch me pee, kids are so weird) but I was able to sneak it in and flush it down. Crisis averted. Was it an unceremonious way for the poor little guy to go? Yeah, it was. But it is better than being flushed alive, right? Right. So, the moral for today is 18 months is way to young for a 'my fish died' lesson. I am saving all of my emotional ammo for when Nugget finally dies of being a fat, stagnant, lazy cat in a few years.
Music.
It has been raining for two days. I know we need it, but it makes me tired. Willie Nelson is a bad, bad man. Almost as bad as BB King. Almost.
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Episode 100: Oh wait, you mean this gets harder?
Fun Fact: Av, prancing around without her diaper, pooped on the playroom floor today. Then she stepped in it. Now on to today's post.
Somewhere in between the birth of my daughter a year and a half ago and sitting down to write this blog post I managed to convince myself that I had figured out how to parent. I'm not sure when or why this happened, or what exactly I did to fool myself in to thinking that I had any idea what I was doing, but the truth is I still don't.
Nothing in particular happened to remind me of this fact, I just kind of remembered today and it made a whole lot of sense. Maybe it is because she is still alive and (probably) not retarded, or maybe it is just because I am so used to having her around, but let's not fool ourselves here. I may have been successful despite myself, but in no way do I have any sort of a clue.
With Monica's dreaded, yet necessary return to work creeping up in just a few weeks I am starting to to think about what it is going to be like spending the whole day with Av again. Not because I don't want to, it is more because I feel like I have once again fallen behind. This is the case with just about everything in my life. I have little to no career and no contact with the corporate world, I am just now getting up to date on such mid- 2000's technology as the iPod, and I can't seem to operate these new fangled computers that all these kids have now days. What ever happened to hyperlinks?
Today I read an article on Yahoo! that explained how the high school graduating class of 2014 will be the first class to enter college and no longer communicate through email. What? No more email? Where is it going? What will it be replaced by? Apparently there is something called Skype, which is an internet phone I am told, that people seem to use a lot. Others seem to think that cell phones and social networking sites will replace email as a communication device. This is my nightmare. Email is perfect. You can say and do whatever you want and you never have to talk to anyone. When I was at the newspaper and I had to get in touch with someone new, they would always get an email before a phone call. People are mean when they pick up the phone and I am horribly anxious when I call them. If phone calls were like a golf club to the face, which is how they often make me feel, email would be like a foam bat. Even today I prefer it. Hell, most days I would rather email my mom than call her. It is so much easier and I can think out my responses. Plus, if you answer a question in a short tone, or aren't as perky as the person you are speaking with would like, you don't have to listen to that 'what's the matter?' crap.
Also, why does anyone need an Internet phone? Can someone explain that to me? So... you have a cell phone. Or at the very least a home phone, right? And you have email and Facebook, so... where does this Internet phone come in? I just don't get it. Is it like video phone? I would hate that. What if you get a call while you are sitting in your boxers eating cheese and crackers on the couch? I wouldn't answer it. Then what happens? Does your computer bug you about a missed call? I am so confused. Oh, what? Like I'm the only one that eats underwear snacks? Please. Fun Fact #2: Sometimes I also eat pop sickles on the toilet.
The point is, I am being left behind in life and it is spiraling me in to a pre mid life crisis crisis. It get's no better in my life as a dad. It isn't for lack of effort, I am home more than I am not. I am definitely not one of those dads that plays fantasy football or golf or sneaks out to buy cigarettes and downs three IPA's at the bar while in the process. If I'm not at work, I'm probably home. Boring? Sure. But, let's be honest, most of those dads that do that don't want to be friends with a guy like me anyway. The problem is that Monica was so efficient in parenting this summer and the baby has made so many strides while they spend time together, I am simply struggling to keep up. I have this nightmare that the first day Monica goes back to work is going to be eight hours of Av messing with me just to see what she can get away with. I told Monica today that I am going to need to get a printed list of rules and regulations and some enforcement tips. It was a lot easier three months ago when she didn't talk much and had trouble comprehending simple tasks. Now she spends her day running from room to room, always talking, always playing with something that she shouldn't. Plus, she talks to strangers a lot more, too. That just means that I am also going to have to start acknowledging them more, which means more uncomfortable conversations, which means more anxiety.
(Just a side note: I did make some strides at the beach last week. A child around Av's age kept coming over to play with us and ended up latching on to me for the whole day. I did a nice job of being her temporary friend and I even interacted with her goatee dad without being weird or antisocial. See, I can do it. It just has to be the right day).
I am a little bit worried about the baby starting nursery school in the fall, too. It is just a few hours a week, but I feel like she isn't coordinated, intelligent or social enough to get through it. She is so big and clumsy she has trouble with motor skills, walking up stairs and other simple tasks and no matter how many times she falls on her face she still can't figure out that she should probably walk through the house instead of constantly traveling at a dead sprint. Oh, and she also likes to touch other kids. I'm pretty sure that gets you kicked out of school these days.
Yesterday we went to this 'introductory pool party' at her school, which would have been cool if any of the other kids from her class showed up, but they didn't. There were plenty of older kids there, running and swimming by themselves while their parents compared lawn chairs, but all of the kids from her age group were missing. This can be directly attributed to the fact that the party started at 6 p.m., which is like 45 minutes before Av turns in to the evil 'I have to go to sleep' gremlin, so I am sure the other parents were just much smarter than us and stayed home to avoid creating a bad first impression.
We went, though, and although Av was very well behaved, she pretty much stood out as the weirdo of the bunch. She should get used to that, she had no shot from the start, I am her dad. The first problem was that she wasn't able to swim (she is currently battling a nasty, disgusting vagina rash that flares up when it meets chlorine), and as a result filled the void by running around with her head down, shying away from other kids and flirting with teen aged lifeguards. Worse still, the women running the program insisted that the goal was more to get us to meet with other parents and 'network.' As you can imagine, this did not thrill me.
Just as if it had been our first day of school, the ladies encouraged us to meet with other moms and dads, even introducing us to one woman awkwardly next to the pool. This woman had no interest in talking to us. None of the parents have any interest in talking to us. It is like we are outcast. Young, irresponsible, not business savvy, whatever. I don't want to talk to them anyway. I think most of the problem is that the school is at the new, multi-million dollar Marblehead YMCA. For those of you not familiar with Marblehead, it is a lovely seaside village that at some point lost it's tough, salty fisherman's identity and became home to yacht-owning, snooty, aristocratic, BMW-driving trophy wives and their popped-collar douche bag kids. I lost my train of thought here. Sorry. The point is, these people don't want to be our friends, so we left the pool party.
The thought of Av having to make it on her own at that school is rough enough, but the other days that she is home will be just as challenging for me to handle. How the hell do you keep an almost 2-year-old with non stop energy happy? Well, we'll probably find out together.
...
Somewhere in between the birth of my daughter a year and a half ago and sitting down to write this blog post I managed to convince myself that I had figured out how to parent. I'm not sure when or why this happened, or what exactly I did to fool myself in to thinking that I had any idea what I was doing, but the truth is I still don't.
Nothing in particular happened to remind me of this fact, I just kind of remembered today and it made a whole lot of sense. Maybe it is because she is still alive and (probably) not retarded, or maybe it is just because I am so used to having her around, but let's not fool ourselves here. I may have been successful despite myself, but in no way do I have any sort of a clue.
With Monica's dreaded, yet necessary return to work creeping up in just a few weeks I am starting to to think about what it is going to be like spending the whole day with Av again. Not because I don't want to, it is more because I feel like I have once again fallen behind. This is the case with just about everything in my life. I have little to no career and no contact with the corporate world, I am just now getting up to date on such mid- 2000's technology as the iPod, and I can't seem to operate these new fangled computers that all these kids have now days. What ever happened to hyperlinks?
Today I read an article on Yahoo! that explained how the high school graduating class of 2014 will be the first class to enter college and no longer communicate through email. What? No more email? Where is it going? What will it be replaced by? Apparently there is something called Skype, which is an internet phone I am told, that people seem to use a lot. Others seem to think that cell phones and social networking sites will replace email as a communication device. This is my nightmare. Email is perfect. You can say and do whatever you want and you never have to talk to anyone. When I was at the newspaper and I had to get in touch with someone new, they would always get an email before a phone call. People are mean when they pick up the phone and I am horribly anxious when I call them. If phone calls were like a golf club to the face, which is how they often make me feel, email would be like a foam bat. Even today I prefer it. Hell, most days I would rather email my mom than call her. It is so much easier and I can think out my responses. Plus, if you answer a question in a short tone, or aren't as perky as the person you are speaking with would like, you don't have to listen to that 'what's the matter?' crap.
Also, why does anyone need an Internet phone? Can someone explain that to me? So... you have a cell phone. Or at the very least a home phone, right? And you have email and Facebook, so... where does this Internet phone come in? I just don't get it. Is it like video phone? I would hate that. What if you get a call while you are sitting in your boxers eating cheese and crackers on the couch? I wouldn't answer it. Then what happens? Does your computer bug you about a missed call? I am so confused. Oh, what? Like I'm the only one that eats underwear snacks? Please. Fun Fact #2: Sometimes I also eat pop sickles on the toilet.
The point is, I am being left behind in life and it is spiraling me in to a pre mid life crisis crisis. It get's no better in my life as a dad. It isn't for lack of effort, I am home more than I am not. I am definitely not one of those dads that plays fantasy football or golf or sneaks out to buy cigarettes and downs three IPA's at the bar while in the process. If I'm not at work, I'm probably home. Boring? Sure. But, let's be honest, most of those dads that do that don't want to be friends with a guy like me anyway. The problem is that Monica was so efficient in parenting this summer and the baby has made so many strides while they spend time together, I am simply struggling to keep up. I have this nightmare that the first day Monica goes back to work is going to be eight hours of Av messing with me just to see what she can get away with. I told Monica today that I am going to need to get a printed list of rules and regulations and some enforcement tips. It was a lot easier three months ago when she didn't talk much and had trouble comprehending simple tasks. Now she spends her day running from room to room, always talking, always playing with something that she shouldn't. Plus, she talks to strangers a lot more, too. That just means that I am also going to have to start acknowledging them more, which means more uncomfortable conversations, which means more anxiety.
(Just a side note: I did make some strides at the beach last week. A child around Av's age kept coming over to play with us and ended up latching on to me for the whole day. I did a nice job of being her temporary friend and I even interacted with her goatee dad without being weird or antisocial. See, I can do it. It just has to be the right day).
I am a little bit worried about the baby starting nursery school in the fall, too. It is just a few hours a week, but I feel like she isn't coordinated, intelligent or social enough to get through it. She is so big and clumsy she has trouble with motor skills, walking up stairs and other simple tasks and no matter how many times she falls on her face she still can't figure out that she should probably walk through the house instead of constantly traveling at a dead sprint. Oh, and she also likes to touch other kids. I'm pretty sure that gets you kicked out of school these days.
Yesterday we went to this 'introductory pool party' at her school, which would have been cool if any of the other kids from her class showed up, but they didn't. There were plenty of older kids there, running and swimming by themselves while their parents compared lawn chairs, but all of the kids from her age group were missing. This can be directly attributed to the fact that the party started at 6 p.m., which is like 45 minutes before Av turns in to the evil 'I have to go to sleep' gremlin, so I am sure the other parents were just much smarter than us and stayed home to avoid creating a bad first impression.
We went, though, and although Av was very well behaved, she pretty much stood out as the weirdo of the bunch. She should get used to that, she had no shot from the start, I am her dad. The first problem was that she wasn't able to swim (she is currently battling a nasty, disgusting vagina rash that flares up when it meets chlorine), and as a result filled the void by running around with her head down, shying away from other kids and flirting with teen aged lifeguards. Worse still, the women running the program insisted that the goal was more to get us to meet with other parents and 'network.' As you can imagine, this did not thrill me.
Just as if it had been our first day of school, the ladies encouraged us to meet with other moms and dads, even introducing us to one woman awkwardly next to the pool. This woman had no interest in talking to us. None of the parents have any interest in talking to us. It is like we are outcast. Young, irresponsible, not business savvy, whatever. I don't want to talk to them anyway. I think most of the problem is that the school is at the new, multi-million dollar Marblehead YMCA. For those of you not familiar with Marblehead, it is a lovely seaside village that at some point lost it's tough, salty fisherman's identity and became home to yacht-owning, snooty, aristocratic, BMW-driving trophy wives and their popped-collar douche bag kids. I lost my train of thought here. Sorry. The point is, these people don't want to be our friends, so we left the pool party.
The thought of Av having to make it on her own at that school is rough enough, but the other days that she is home will be just as challenging for me to handle. How the hell do you keep an almost 2-year-old with non stop energy happy? Well, we'll probably find out together.
...
Music.
Music.
So, I don't particularly care for the band 'Of Montreal.' The music is just too peppy, gimmicky and drugged out for me. That said, their new song kicks ass. It sounds to me like what the White Stripes would sound like if they had a full band and a pussy indie rock singer in Jack White's place. Now that I read that, I realize that a full band without Jack White singing would be the exact opposite of the White Stripes, so scratch that observation. I just think this song is really cool. I can't get enough of it, actually. And it has a funky-ass baseline. Nice work, Of Montreal. You have temporarily won me over.
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Episode 99: Back by popular demand
I have heard from many of you over the past three weeks telling me how much you miss reading about the adventures of Av and I was surprised to learn just how many people actually read this blog, so I have decided to cut the summer vacation a little bit short. I probably won't keep updating as frequently as I had until September comes along, but I'll hit you with a post here and there in the mean time. Thanks for reading.
We have had quite the relaxing summer here on Roslyn Street with many trips to the beach, a few grill parties and plenty of taco nights, but we have also started to get brave and take Av on some pretty bad ass trips. I really can't believe how much she has grown just since the summer started, not size wise, more mentally. She can say so many more words now and can actually string together sentences, like "Where is Daddy?" which I heard her ask the other morning. Because of this things have become quite a bit more entertaining around here.
I think one of the coolest things about Av is that she has a pretty good sense of humor. It can get pretty fresh at times, but she has an amazing grasp on what sort of things are funny and what sort of things she can do to press our buttons. One day at lunch Monica decided she was going to give her a peach. Always willing to try new foods, Av eagerly slammed it in to her mouth, only to take it right back out, yell 'blech' and throw it at Monica before bursting out in to laughter. Yeah, she is a brat, all right. But she is a funny brat.
Our first real big trip of the summer was to the New England Aquarium, one of my personal favorite spots. We weren't quite sure how Av was going to handle the ride in, but we decided that it would be fun to go ahead and take the subway in to the city so that she could have her first ride on a 'choo choo." Needless to say, that was a big hit. Even before we boarded she was bubbling over with excitement as the outbound trains came in to drop people off. She spent the trip laughing, making noise and trying to socialize with everyone on the crowded train. It was pretty adorable. This is us waiting to come home. Notice the anticipation of the train coming.
The aquarium itself was pretty much what I expected. It was super crowded so it was tough to get around, but the sight of penguins and that giant fish tank in the middle was enough to make Av's head spin around, which was really the only goal. She has become much better at identifying animals, too. Before, everything was just a "ditty" but now she can tell the difference between big dogs and puppies, cats and birds and all sorts of other animals. She knows hippo and elephant (which she identifies by making a hysterical elephant noise)and has even started identifying different modes of transportation. She does not, however, refer to a truck as a 'fuck,' which is something that I am admittedly a little bit disappointed in, especially since I can still vividly remember the first time my litter sister said 'fire fuck' which is still one of the funniest moments of my life.
Anyway, after an hour or so at the aquarium we hit the town, got some city pizza and took the choo choo home. All in all a good day. The same, at least from my perspective, cannot be said for the following week's trip to the Children's Museum. I have fleeting memories of taking a field trip to the Children's Museum as a child, but I couldn't really remember much. It is a good thing, because that place is a rip off. Tucked away in what looks like an old warehouse in South Boston, the place is less of a museum and more of a giant play place for kids. Sure, there is plenty for them to do there, like color, blow bubbles, toss around golf balls, but for $12 a person- including kids- it isn't really worth it considering you can pretty much do everything in and around your house or local parks for free. The place was infested with kids and youth groups and, at least to me, there really wasn't a whole lot of learning going on. It was just a lot of playing. Again, pretty cool if you are a kid, but calling it a museum is false advertising if you ask me.
Still, Av had a good time and got to blow off a lot of steam, and that is really all that matters. We once again had some city pizza (I love city pizza) and went home. Another pretty successful day. See, not a whole lot of material in the summer. Here are some cute pictures to fill your void.
Going in to the city is always tough for me because seeing all of those important work people with suits and brief cases gives me anxiety, but having the baby with me made me realize that I was pretty lucky. That Tom Cruise looking dude at the train station with a suit case may make six figures and be on his way to catch a flight to Chicago to close a huge business deal, but I be he doesn't have a funny little kid making him feel good about himself just for waking up in the morning. I'll get a real job someday and, you know what? I bet I'll hate it just as much as I did the first time around. See, nothing like summer to get your spirits up.
Musicgasm
While the summer has been filled with plenty of activities for family and baby, dad has to have some fun, too, and that is just what he had at the end of July when he finally got to see his favorite band ever, The Black Keys, live in concert. I have debated as to whether or not I wanted to write a review of sorts of the show, but I just watched like three Youtube videos of them playing live and I am now inspired.
First, before I get started, it is important to understand just how important this was to me. The Black Keys are more than just a band that I like. More than just my 'favorite band.' For many reasons, which we won't discuss here, I don't consider myself much of a religious person, but I do believe that God exists and I believe that God exists in music- specifically blues music. Old Mississippi Delta blues moves me in a way I can't even describe, and the Black Keys have been able to recreate that sound with a modern style that triggers pure euphoria in my ears. From their first three albums recorded in various warehouses and basements, providing the most raw blues sound you can get, to their most recent albums with more studio production and varied music styles, they have created a signature sound that is really nothing short of pure sonic emotion. When I listen to the Keys I don't hear two guys playing music, I see two guys who allow the music to flow through their bodies, especially Dan Auerbach, who makes guitar playing look effortless. I affectionately call him the 'rift master' or perhaps you prefer 'The White man who Stole the Blues.'
Enough with the love fest. Up until this show I had never seen the Black Keys live. I have had my opportunities, but something has always come up. One year I had to attend a wedding. One year I was on vacation in Mexico. Two years ago they played one day before Monica's due date so I couldn't bring myself to get tickets. I did get a chance to see Auerbach play live with his other band, The Fast Five, who backed him on his solo project, but had still never seen the Keys until a few weeks ago.
I will start out with two disclaimers. 1: In no way was I sober for any part of this evening's events. 2: Dan Auerbach would have had to pretty much take a shit on the stage for me to not have liked the show. Keep that in mind as you read my review.
First, I want to say that the concert venue took a lot away from the show right from the start. The Bank of America Pavilion is a scenic outdoor concert arena on the South Boston waterfront. It is beautiful and very enjoyable on a hot summer night. It is a great place to see a show if you are in to Lionel Ritchie or James Taylor. It is not a great place to see a loud blues rock band. The set up is way to impersonal ( I hate seeing a show anywhere that has a screen projecting a larger image of the band next to the stage) and the staff pretty much had us on lock down. You stand in front of your seats or you don't go anywhere unless you are walking to and from the bathroom or concessions. the worst part? The show had to end at 10:30 because of the city noise ordinance. Who wants to go to a show that gets out at 10:30? It took a lot away from the show for me, but it wasn't enough to ruin it. Nothing was enough to ruin it. Not even the last-minute fill-in opening act, a band called Symbols eat Guitars, which is easily the worst thing I have ever heard in my life. Sorry if you are in that band or know someone who is, but if that is the case it may be time to call it quits because you suck.
On to the show. The Keys played for a solid two hours, which was awesome, starting out with an hour of older stuff from their first three albums and ending with newer music. The set was great. From the moment that Auerbach played the first notes of 'Thickfreakness' to start the show I was completely moved. It felt like the music had filled up my entire head. It literally overwhelmed me. For the first three songs I stood in front of my seat and didn't move. I didn't dance, I didn't clap, I didn't do anything. I stood in awe, at times fighting off tears, and just watched. As the show went on it became a borderline religious experience. In a few words: They absolutely killed it. I can still hear random guitar rifts, like the solo during 'Stack Shot Billy' which was about the loudest thing I have ever heard, and the haunting simplicity of the guitar in 'Too Afraid to Love You.' Then, just like that, it was over. Just as fast as it started, and for the first time I can ever remember, I was left wanting more.
Usually at a show, even if it is a band I really like, by the end I am ready to go. I'm tired, I'm sweaty, I have heard the songs I liked and I am ready to struggle home. Not so this time around. I could have listened to them play their entire library of music plus a bunch of covers. If I had the means I would fly to wherever they are playing tonight just to see them again. I will not say that this was the best show I have ever seen. The venue and the short set (ok, two hours is a long set, but it was too short for me) leave it just shy of seeing Auerbach and the Fast Five play at the Paradise, a much smaller, indoor club, last year. That is still the best show I have ever been to. But this was close.
Here is a sample video taken by some brave sole with a Flip cam at the show. This is 'Stack Shot Billy.' Youtube does it no justice, but the specific guitar solo from this song continues to haunt me whenever I think of this show. In fact, this performance of this song prevented me from listening to the Keys at all until just a few days ago, because every time I would put it on I would get sad that the show had ended. I'm over than now and I am back to jamming out to them all the time, only now I have taken a liking to their first album for some reason. I'll stop rambling now, as this has nothing to do with my kid. Congratulations if you made it through all of that.
And here is the opening song, Thickfreakness. Just picture me stone-faced looking like I had just seen a ghost, not able to move.
First, before I get started, it is important to understand just how important this was to me. The Black Keys are more than just a band that I like. More than just my 'favorite band.' For many reasons, which we won't discuss here, I don't consider myself much of a religious person, but I do believe that God exists and I believe that God exists in music- specifically blues music. Old Mississippi Delta blues moves me in a way I can't even describe, and the Black Keys have been able to recreate that sound with a modern style that triggers pure euphoria in my ears. From their first three albums recorded in various warehouses and basements, providing the most raw blues sound you can get, to their most recent albums with more studio production and varied music styles, they have created a signature sound that is really nothing short of pure sonic emotion. When I listen to the Keys I don't hear two guys playing music, I see two guys who allow the music to flow through their bodies, especially Dan Auerbach, who makes guitar playing look effortless. I affectionately call him the 'rift master' or perhaps you prefer 'The White man who Stole the Blues.'
Enough with the love fest. Up until this show I had never seen the Black Keys live. I have had my opportunities, but something has always come up. One year I had to attend a wedding. One year I was on vacation in Mexico. Two years ago they played one day before Monica's due date so I couldn't bring myself to get tickets. I did get a chance to see Auerbach play live with his other band, The Fast Five, who backed him on his solo project, but had still never seen the Keys until a few weeks ago.
I will start out with two disclaimers. 1: In no way was I sober for any part of this evening's events. 2: Dan Auerbach would have had to pretty much take a shit on the stage for me to not have liked the show. Keep that in mind as you read my review.
First, I want to say that the concert venue took a lot away from the show right from the start. The Bank of America Pavilion is a scenic outdoor concert arena on the South Boston waterfront. It is beautiful and very enjoyable on a hot summer night. It is a great place to see a show if you are in to Lionel Ritchie or James Taylor. It is not a great place to see a loud blues rock band. The set up is way to impersonal ( I hate seeing a show anywhere that has a screen projecting a larger image of the band next to the stage) and the staff pretty much had us on lock down. You stand in front of your seats or you don't go anywhere unless you are walking to and from the bathroom or concessions. the worst part? The show had to end at 10:30 because of the city noise ordinance. Who wants to go to a show that gets out at 10:30? It took a lot away from the show for me, but it wasn't enough to ruin it. Nothing was enough to ruin it. Not even the last-minute fill-in opening act, a band called Symbols eat Guitars, which is easily the worst thing I have ever heard in my life. Sorry if you are in that band or know someone who is, but if that is the case it may be time to call it quits because you suck.
On to the show. The Keys played for a solid two hours, which was awesome, starting out with an hour of older stuff from their first three albums and ending with newer music. The set was great. From the moment that Auerbach played the first notes of 'Thickfreakness' to start the show I was completely moved. It felt like the music had filled up my entire head. It literally overwhelmed me. For the first three songs I stood in front of my seat and didn't move. I didn't dance, I didn't clap, I didn't do anything. I stood in awe, at times fighting off tears, and just watched. As the show went on it became a borderline religious experience. In a few words: They absolutely killed it. I can still hear random guitar rifts, like the solo during 'Stack Shot Billy' which was about the loudest thing I have ever heard, and the haunting simplicity of the guitar in 'Too Afraid to Love You.' Then, just like that, it was over. Just as fast as it started, and for the first time I can ever remember, I was left wanting more.
Usually at a show, even if it is a band I really like, by the end I am ready to go. I'm tired, I'm sweaty, I have heard the songs I liked and I am ready to struggle home. Not so this time around. I could have listened to them play their entire library of music plus a bunch of covers. If I had the means I would fly to wherever they are playing tonight just to see them again. I will not say that this was the best show I have ever seen. The venue and the short set (ok, two hours is a long set, but it was too short for me) leave it just shy of seeing Auerbach and the Fast Five play at the Paradise, a much smaller, indoor club, last year. That is still the best show I have ever been to. But this was close.
Here is a sample video taken by some brave sole with a Flip cam at the show. This is 'Stack Shot Billy.' Youtube does it no justice, but the specific guitar solo from this song continues to haunt me whenever I think of this show. In fact, this performance of this song prevented me from listening to the Keys at all until just a few days ago, because every time I would put it on I would get sad that the show had ended. I'm over than now and I am back to jamming out to them all the time, only now I have taken a liking to their first album for some reason. I'll stop rambling now, as this has nothing to do with my kid. Congratulations if you made it through all of that.
And here is the opening song, Thickfreakness. Just picture me stone-faced looking like I had just seen a ghost, not able to move.
More music
Just to prove to you that I actually listen to something else, here is one of my favorite songs. The artist is Neutral Milk Hotel. His voice sucks, yes, but this is another one of those bands in which God lives within the music.
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