NOTHING SAYS CHRISTMAS LIKE...HARMONICAS.

There is nothing that symbolizes the holiday season like playing harmonica in the rain with siblings and cousins.

Unless you have a kazoo or tuba. Those are the only two things that could possibly be better.

ONE MORE CANISTER OF COFFEE.

HIM.

Daddy?
he asked.

When you're a sumo wrestler, is it legal to yank down the other wrestler's underwear?

Well,
I said.
I do not know the answer to that question. But it is my favourite question of today.

And it remained the fave.

___

One of the things I love about this boy is the range of his interest, the depth of his curiosity, and his ability to throw himself in equal measure into both physical pursuits and mental ones. To go from racing around the house like one of his current heroes, Jesse Owens, and then go to crafting stories and artwork like his current hero...now that I think about it, I am actually uncertain as to who his current inspirations are. Although he has enjoyed Vermeer as of late, and done his own version of the Girl with the Peal Earring. It's entitled Boy with the Pearl Earring.

Currently bouncing around reading three different books on reptiles, a bio of George Washington Carver, and the Roald Dahl classic Matilda.


___


HER.
Endless, boundless energy, bottled up like human nuclear fusion, with a spirit free and wit to dagger Oscar Wilde.

We have found a shared love of film. I love it so much.

Some families have stringent screen times rules. That's great. To each their own. But I guess in ours...we use what we use when we need what we need, and what we watch, we watch together. A shared and communal experience. Of course, that does not include Becca and I watching Amazing Mrs. Maisel or Designated Survivor after hours.

We're currently watching Spielberg's Lincoln. Already a lengthy story at 2.5 hours, it's turning into a four-hour epic with our frequent stops for explanations and discussion about what's happening.

I like how he focuses on the last months of the Civil War and shows the agony he faces in trying to balance, politically, the conjoined horrors of 1) ending the war and 2) ending slavery; knowing that they're intertwined and that timing will be everything.

There's a lot to explain and talk through. Habeas corpus. The nature of the Republican and Democrat parties then versus now.

You mean...the Republicans were the ones who were fighting to end slavery?!

Yep.
I said.
That's how it used to be. Lincoln's party. Ain't his party no more. No way.

___


HIM II.
These are today's treasures that brought him joy.

Gonna get on a high horse here for a sec: remember this image as Christmas approaches, fellow citizens and parents.

This is joy.

An empty canister of coffee to collect outdoor treasures in. A water bottle. A hat to keep semi-warm from the biting Gorge winds.

Joy. What do you need?

___


THEM.
A little of this, a little of that, and one more of this.

Post-race. She came in first this time around with a time of 28.23 seconds around the house. But silver is honorable as well. 33.07.

And there was one disqualified for not finishing. Or starting.

THE WEEK BEHIND : Duplass, Sedaris, Norsemen.

Things that are uncountable:
The number of times a week Donald J. Trump lies, throws somebody under the bus, empty-brags, or embarasses the office of the Presidency.

The number of times a week our youngest son commits an act with great forethought and deliberation while simultaneously announcing what he's doing with a repeated series of "Uh-oh. Uh-oh. Uh-oh..."

Accidents happen.

Speaking of accidents: serendipity was a spelling word on our daughter's test today. So it seemed like we should watch the trailer for the 2001 Kate Beckinsale / John Cusack rom-com. So we did.

Cocaine green.
What does your child salivate over for a snack? Let me tell you about our two boys: separated by six and a half years, united in their hilarious addiction to frozen peas for a snack. Yeah. Frozen peas. The green crack snack.

Halloween happened.
A cowgirl. A teenager trying to act all cool. A panda. Or a cow. Hard to tell.

They made a sugar fortune and have enjoyed little of the bounty; fortunately we do not have a security system effective enough to keep me out of their hard-worked for treasures.

Ejvindr has spent the last two days organizing his candy into various buckets, backpacks, and bags. Over. And over and over and over. It has not been communicated to him that there's candy inside these brightly wrapped little objects. Also, learning what candy is has not been part of his education yet, so he is playing with something and has no idea what's actually inside. If he only knew. I have forbade the children, under penalty of throwing away all candy and frozen peas, that he is not to learn the identity of his toys (i.e. candy). Yet. Not yet. The floodgates will open someday. But not yet.

Also, my little sister the older made some pretty nifty costumes for her fam. Straight from How to Train Your Dragon. Pretty cool, pretty crafty.

Standard time.
The clock changes this weekend. Standard time, I think. Fall back?

Phone numbers have seven digits because - at least in the days when people needed to remember phone numbers - seven is the number of digits that most people can carry in their short- to mid-term memory. That's doable. Know what's hard?

Remembering one thing when there's a total of two options. Like : just take a left at the stop sign.

You start second-guessing yourself. I don't take a left, right? Right is right. Not left, right. 

All of a sudden a simple thing becomes extraordinarily complicated. Such is my life. Complicating simple tasks and simplifying complex ideas.

My mom, two books
Several months ago, my mom gave me two books within a couple weeks of each other.

One is called Like Brothers. It's by the Duplass brothers, who really are brothers and filmmakers. It is inspiring and wonderful and these brothers love each other so much, like I love mine.

The other is called Calypso. It's by David Sedaris, one of my favorite writers, and it is dark and hilarious and he writes about his husband and family and all the love and frustration he has in his interactions with them. Also, he talks about American phrases he loathes, such as : it is what it is.

She gave them to me because she thought I'd like them. She has a knack for that. Giving books that somehow are there when I need them. I needed these ones.

Things I hate
Walking across a kitchen floor in my bare feet and stepping in breakfast cereal that some idiot has spilled.

Things I hate more than that
Walking across a kitchen floor in my socks and stepping in sticky rice that some idiot has spilled.

Things that weren't horrible
A) I didn't tip my riding mower over when I made a poor decision to take it diagonally across a hill.

B) A cloud of particular interest flew by around 11am.

C) My dad called last night and said this:

Joey, find the show Norsemen on Netflix. Just watch fifteen minutes. I think you'll be glad. 

I did so, because he's my dad. And I could tell it would make him happy to know that I'd checked it out. So I did. I watched it, as did Becca, until she fell asleep.

I laughed so good. One of the funniest first-episodes of a show I'd seen. He was so right. I can't wait to watch it with him.

The phrase "Python-esque humor" in television is a little like saying "Beatle-esque sounding" in music. It's so diluted it means little anymore. The reality is, we should agree that pretty much all good pop music and rock and roll owes a debt to the Beatles, in the same manner that pretty much all droll and properly-offending television programmes owe a debt to Terry Gilliam, John Cleese, and the crew.

Norsemen, after one half hour episode, has the Python spirit. Its own tone, its own thing for sure, but a proper entrant in the well-done, played-straight classic telly shows.

D) Becca made a really savory, chunky, spicy soup for Friday supper.
E. Magdelana has been baking up a storm. Pumpkin bread, pumpkin muffins, all sorts of delicacies.

Things I got worked up about this week and might have given long monologues on as a result

1. The Renaissance. Yeah, the one that started in northern Europe in the 1400s and was a big factor in the ensuing Age of Exploration, for better or worse. Probably worse for the 80-90% of indigenous populations that were wiped out as a result. 
2. How much more I like Hungarian composer Franz Liszt than Hungarian composer Bela Bartok.
3. Prime factorization. I got into a bit of a competition with Magdelana as I got engrossed in one of her lessons. Addicting. Quick: prime factorization of 27. A: 3x3x3 Ready for the next one? Try 428. 
4. Primogeniture. The concept of wealth and land being passed to the oldest son and its impact on Spain and other European countries as they ran out of land and needed to find more somewhere...hello, Americas! 
5. There's other stuff. I get worked up a lot these days. For example, I got worked up during the last two innings of one of the World Series games. That was the only baseball I watched all year, but true to form, Johannes, that precious angelic long-haired lad, wanted to know why I was so obsessed with baseball and why it was more important than tucking him in. 

"I guess you'd rather watch your baseball than lay by me,"

he said as he trudged off to bed.

What a masterful guilt trip. I typically loathe them, but you gotta give props where they're due.

Again: two innings of the World Series. I think the Sox beat the Dodgers. 

I worked this week, on my work days - and nights - in the dungeon.
Because that's where I work. It gets cold, and I saw a lot of rain through my dirty cracked window at the top of our mountain.

Listened to a bunch of Chvrches and a lot of Liszt this week.

We are alive, and there is love. We have love, we have loud music, and we have a lot of art supplies. And each other. So another week in the life ledger.

My little sister, the littlest.
She sent me a text this week in response to something I wrote, and her response included these two lines:

"...reading what you write feels like another way to breathe."

and

"I love how sparingly you use commas."

I love, I love it, I love her and I love that she observes and articulates what she observes. It matters.

It means so much to have someone acknowledge and respond to what you do when you do something that you care about.

EIGHT WORDS TO DESCRIBE OUR EIGHT-YEAR OLD

I asked him, on the eve of his eighth birthday, to describe himself in three words

He said:

“Weird. Adventurous. And...hyper sometimes and not hyper sometimes.”

I would say, amongst many things that stand out, descriptors I would use include:

Tender-hearted

Inquisitive 

Deep thinker 

Adventurous 

Hilarious 

Challenging 

Wondering wanderer

Kind

I love our long-haired lad so much. So not afraid to be himself and to face every day as an opportunity to hurl himself into learning or practicing or playing or discovering something that grabs his intense focus. Amazing human. Learned much from you, kid. Keep teaching us. 

KATIE LEDECKY.

It's so hard to believe in just over nine decades, our daughter will be one hundred. They grow up so fast. Speaking of which, I had this sudden moment of clarity this morning, watching Michael Phelps talk about his 19th gold medal. I remembered that I have none. No medal. Zip (I am being serious here - I have never won any Olympic event*).

As I near the end of my fourth decade of existence, I have to ask myself: will I ever break his Olympic medal count record? (Again, I currently have zero) And the tough answer is: there is at least a fifty-percent chance I will never break his record. Reality is tough, which is why I strongly suggest not being too friendly with it.

*technically, I have not been to the [hashtag] Olympics as a competitor**

**technically, I have not been to the #Olympics at all, any capacity


___


LESS HOME, PLEASE.

Homeless people are so lucky.
she said dreamily.
One of my goals someday is to be homeless.

And why,
I asked.
is that?

So,
she said confidently.
I can live under a bridge. That is one of my goals.

Well,
I said.
That is something you'll need to work hard to achieve.

ART OF THE START.

The children have been plotting out summer business plans; one hundred percent of which are some variation of selling items roadside.

Our daughter has had several ideas that hold promise, such as carefully working out a budget and profit/loss analysis for goods like homemade cookies ("two for a dollar") and lemonade ("fifty cents a glass").

Our son has also put a great deal of thought into his profit ventures, though his price points are slightly more aggressive. If any of you are driving past our place later this summer and have an extra seventy dollars for a cup of water, well...that's the price of doing business. With him.

As his parent, I look forward to appropriating a portion of any profit. I would urge you to purchase a tall glass of water. And one each for any passengers. Maybe you'll even get a discount. Then again...probably not. And don't even think of asking for extra ice cubes.

BRAZILIAN LIBRARIES.

Little piece I did a few years ago for fun. A community library in Brazil contacted me recently about using it as a poster for their facility and...sent it off today! Having conquered dozens of other continents with my arts weaponry, it felt good to know that South America has finally noticed me.

Hoping for an offer from Brazil's Ministry of Tourism to cover the Summer Olympics. I art very fast. Fingers crossed.

AND GO TO THE LIBRARIES THIS SUMMER; ESPECIALLY THE FORT VANCOUVER ONES, ESPECIALLY WASHOUGAL COMMUNITY LIBRARY!!!! They have awesome summer programs, awesome people working there, and I think they even have some books you can rent for reasonable rates, in case you still need to find a copy of Girl on the Train.

BIRTHDAY : Jonny and a beard.

Hey Jonny.

It really hurt me last week, when someone commented on how your beard was bigger than mine. I guess that's what happens when you get older: a lot more pain and learning how to deal with hurtful comments. And truth is, it's true. Your beard is bigger.

I want to run from it, but the fact remains that it is. I gotta be able to look in the mirror and say "hey, we're getting older, and now another brother has a better beard than you." It's just so hard to hear those words from other people, and to hear the whisperings even when they think you're too old to be able to hear them. Well, I can hear, quite well actually, as I've been watching Daredevil and doing a lot of ear exercising exercises.

One advantage of being Daredevil is that he doesn't have to look in the mirror and realise his younger brother has a cooler beard than him. He doesn't have to look in the mirror at all. He also doesn't have a brother, which is sad, because I do, and I am glad. And in spite of the great resentment I have stored up over your healthy facial hair, I have to say that you are one of my favourites. I have also not shaved since that uncalled for remark from the anonymous person (your identity is safe, Zechariah Runkle).

In spite of the overwhelming angst I feel today, I can still say with mostly truthfulness-ish : "happy" birthday, and the one thing that I've wanted to tell you for years is tha












___

WHO AM I?

Daddy,
one informed me.
Sometimes when you're not looking, I take sips of your coffee.

Yeah!
the other one chimed in untruthfully.

It's really really good,
she continued.
It's addicting. I think I'm addicted.

Sometimes I feel like the dad equivalent of Derek Zoolander.

____

VIDEO GAMES (PLAYSTATION 8).

PETRA KVITOVA.

I've been listening a bunch to the new Edward Sharpe & the Magnetic Zeros' new album, and I know definitively that half of it is very good. Also, there are few sports I love more than tennis, aside from lacrosse, which I have never played, and it is one of the tragedies of my life that our eldest child is not a lefty. There goes her tennis career. Also, it might help to use an actual tennis racket. Que sera. ____ #edwardsharpeandthemagneticzeros #tennis #dorisday #2016music #raquetball

A photo posted by Joseph Long (@josephivanlong) on Apr 30, 2016 at 10:32pm PDT

Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros
Free Stuff
Person A
2016

CLIMB.

One of my favourite things I've learned from our daughter is the importance of ascension; of looking up, up, up and if there's any possible way to get higher than you currently are - geographically speaking - then to go after it. To climb for the clouds, literally. When I say I've learned this from her, what I mean is that I WATCH her do these things and marvel. Sometimes I throw frisbee or footballs at her up high to test her reflexes. That's fun too, and gives her the opportunity to learn how to semi-safely fall from very tall places. Also, if you haven't listened to @thevaccines you really oughta. Such good post-Strokes angular Brit dancey, punky pop. ____ #climbing #mdl08

A photo posted by Joseph Long (@josephivanlong) on Apr 13, 2016 at 11:19pm PDT

THE DAY (MOBY), PLUS 'BETTER THAN JULIE.'

BETTER THAN JULIE?
Daddy, daddy!
they shrilled.
Push us on the tire swing, push us FAST on the tire swing!!

Why?
I said.
Why should I push you? We're at a park. You're supposed to be playing, not swinging.

Because it's fun!
the shrilling continued.
And because you're good at pushing!

One of the two - I recognized her; I think she may have been my daughter - paused mid-shriek.
Yeah, you're a pretty good pusher,
she said.

Probably like the fourth best in the world.
Oh.
I said.
Why not Top Three?

Well,
she said.
Julie Natiuk is the third best. One time she pushed us and she was very good at it. Better than you.

Okay.
I said.
Fair enough. Who's got the top two spots then?

She shrugged.
I don't know. But I'm sure there's a couple people somewhere in the world I haven't met who are better at pushing than you.

Alright.
I said.
I guess I could push you for a little bit. After all, you guys are on my Top 100 best children in the world list.

What?!
she shrieked.
Top hundred?!

Yep.
I said.
Probably 93 and 94. Something like that.

Well who's higher than?

she asked.
I don't know.
I said.
I haven't met all the children in the world, but there's probably some I'd like more.

DADDY!!
she yelled.
and I started pushing. Higher and faster than they'd ever gone before. Because I'm the best...or at least best-ish. I'll take a Top 5 finish. Props, Julie. Way to set the bar fairly high.

YOUNG SAINTS.

My heart beats with so much love to see the intensity, attention to detail, and enthusiasm our daughter has brought to her creative process; most recently with recording and mixing in GarageBand. Has been going through the agonies of background noise (e.g. little brothers) infiltrating live vocal tracks mid-recording. Currently putting together a cover of We Are Going to be Friends.

I'LL TELL YOU WHAT'S FUNNY AND WHAT'S NOT AFTER I'M DONE TELLING YOU SOMETHING SUPER IMPORTANT.

"I like it when people are talking all serious, and they mess up what they're saying. It's really funny."

- anonymous eight-year old girl, although the unnamed people she's referring to is mainly singular: her father

TOM, HUCK, HOME.

What does "homeless" mean?
he asked, gazing at the occupied corner of the SE Portland intersection and its cardboard-sign carriers.

You don't know what homeless means?!
his older sister screeched.
I can't believe it! We've talked a whole bunch about homeless people and you didn't know what homeless meant?!

Well...
he said.
I kind of know, but I didn't know EXACTLY.

Oh.
she said.
Being homeless means that you don't have a home to live in.

Oh.
he said.
Lucky.

Huh?
I interjected.

Well,
he said.
If you're homeless, it means you get to go camping every night.

Yeah,
she agreed.
That is definitely lucky.

Umm...
I said.
For many people, it's not something they WANT to be doing, or CHOOSE to be doing.

Why are they homeless then?
he asked.

A lot of different reasons.
I said.
Sometimes people lose their jobs and can't afford to pay for their homes or rent anymore, and sometimes people need special kinds of help but there's no one available to help them with the kind of help they need, and sometimes maybe kids run away from home because they have a difficult home life or family who's not very nice, and they end up living wherever they can on the street or in a shelter.

Sometimes,
she said wistfully.
I wish we had mean parents. Then we could run away from home.

Yeah!
her brother agreed excitedly.

Well,
I said kindly.
That is something your mom and I will try to work on. I'm sorry we haven't accommodated you in that regard.

It's just,
she said.
that it would be fun to run away some day, and go camping. If we had mean parents it would be easier to run away.

Yes!
I said.
We should do that!

NO!!
they said.
Not you! Just us!

Oh.
I said sadly.
Well...how would that work?

We would leave a note saying that we had run away.
she said.

Yeah.
he said.
And we'd be camping, probably by a creek.

That would be so fun!
she said excitedly.
And we'd need to pack stuff in a backpack...just the things we needed, like a lantern, and a book, and some snacks, and a sleeping bag. And a knife.

And also,
he said.
a camera.

Oh yeah,
she said.

(my heart burst)

Are we REALLY going to run away sometime?
he asked her.

Before you go,
I said.
You'll need to fill out a permission slip.

Okay.
she said.

And,
I said.
if it's approved, then we'll be all set.

Wait...
she said suspiciously.
What do you mean, "we?"

Well it goes without saying,
I said.
that we'd be going with you. What fun would it be to run away without your parents?

We didn't mean for you to go!
they groaned,
and turned to whisper to one another.

Just remember,
I cautioned.
Permission slips.

I ignored their whisperings of rejection and disgust in the backseat and internally began plotting my own runaway, with my wife, and minus them, because they were being mean, only I don't know who I should turn in a permission slip to. So I guess I'll have to stay un-homeless for another night. The kids are tucked in and sleeping soundly, which I know because I don't hear any sounds from their rooms...

RELATIVITY VS. RIVER.

I used to think I was pretty good at multitasking,
but now science says I'm not.

I've also been thinking a lot about Mark Twain recently,
while simultaneously listening to an old Prodigy album that dove under my radar in 2009, and really isn't explosively good, but it's still explosive, and keeps my toes tapping and heart bobbing. It's exercise, which is allegedly good, according to science. I keep envisioning Mr. Twain and Albert Einstein hanging out and throwing dance parties and riding around on unicycles. I don't think it ever happened, or at least they never took a selfie of it happening. But I still imagine that it could have. As Sandi Patti sang so eloquently, in one of the rare songs she did without the Prodigy: "Another Time, Another Place." I've never really imagined her hanging out with anyone, besides the crew from Prodigy.

May you have someone cool and strange to hang out with today.

ALL THE LIGHTS WE CANNOT SORT OF SEE, BARELY.

DADDY!!
she shrieked.
WHAT are you doing?!

Uhh...
I paused, unsure of the calamity I was sparking.
I'm...setting the table. So we can eat.

Do you even -
she flung up her hands
- CARE ABOUT THE ENVIRONMENT?!

Uhh...
I stumbled again, scrambling to decipher what eco-catastrophe I was in the middle of creating.

Why...
she paused, apparently for effect.
...WHY are you turning on the lights!?!?

So we can...eat?
I said cautiously.

WE DON'T NEED LIGHTS TO EAT!! LOOK!
she violently pointed out the window.
Look! There's the sun. That's all the light we need to see! Are you really going to waste electricity by turning on the lights?! Do you even care about saving electricity and helping the environment?!

There was nothing more to say.

I ate in contemplative silence, and navigated spoon to mouth in the semi-darkness.

I wish,
her brother murmured wistfully,
that we didn't drive a car that has an engine and makes exhaust.

AN EDUCATION (FINNISH WHAT YOU START).

Happy schooling, students young and elder and middle-lish, in the many varied venues and methods in which you choose to learn yourself an edukation.

INGRID BERGMAN.

Kvinnen hvem har ynde meg hjertet alltid.

(loosely translates as:
Les jeune fille qui a séduire mon coeur à jamais.)

I think,
she said.
That you would really enjoy this book. It's REALLY good!

Oh really.
I said.
Tell me about it.

It's about,
she said.
a mystery that has to to do with Michelangelo and some kids who sneak into a museum. I bet you would really like it.

Okay.
I said.
I will have to read it. But perhaps I will read it on a couch.

YOUNG, ARMSTRONG, HARRIS, GAIMAN.

It is difficult to calculate the degree of joy 

I felt when I looked up recently, and

realised my daughter and I were simultaneously reading

different Neil Gaiman books.

There is a special bond that comes with sharing your literary loves with someone else.

girl reading Neil Gaiman (2015-06-24) ©joseph ivan long