INSPIRATIONS | Billions "Only a coward, only a fool..."

Only a fool doesn't look at the downside.

But only a coward allows it to dissuade him from doing what he must do.

Billions / "The Wrong Maria Gonzalez"

INSPIRATIONS | Elizabeth Gilbert.

Most of the beautiful things in the world were made by people who didn't have time.

- a paraphrase from Elizabeth Gilbert's podcast "Magic Lessons"*

She goes on to talk about how any talent that you have, but don't use, becomes a burden and starts to hurt.

It becomes painful.

They're meant to be used. With time or no time.

A good reminder.

INTERSECTIONS. i can't do that, there's no money in it (dummies)

What you love.

What you're good at.

What people need from you. 

Finding the intersection of those points. 

Although this thought is one I have thinked about prolifically over the last decade, this specific articulation is from listening to Chase Jarvis chat with Jeff Goins, author of Real Artists Don't Starve. 

I got some extra calories, so I guess I'm mostly real.

THIS IS A POLITICAL POST : CHILDHOOD IN THE GORGE.

There is no better high than discovery.

- Edward O. Wilson

COUPLED WITH:
...follow the path of virtue. It will not be overcrowded.
- Lloyd Alexander*, Westmark

*one of the great underrated and frequently underappreciated authors of the 20th century

FILE UNDER: THINGS I'VE LEARNED TODAY.

Daddy,
he said.
Guess what? Adolf Hitler was 56 when he died, and that was also the same age that Abraham Lincoln was when he died, so he was just a little bit older than you! Fifty-six!

Oh.
I said.
I will be 40 later this year, so it seems like that's still a little ways off.

Yeah.
he said.
If he hadn't died than he would have been 57 next.

Yep.
I said.
That's also a little ways off.

IN WHICH WE VISIT A BAKERY WITH MY M.I.L.

RISE.

No.
I said to our eight-year old daughter.
For the 47th time, we are not taking you to see Deadpool for Easter.

But why?
she asked.

Because.
I said.
Because.

Bake Sale / Case Study Coffee.

I quite enjoyed my drip from CSC. 

Five Things: the Countess Loses Another Race.

A. My wife ran in a race. She didn't win. We are all disappointed. Except her. 

B. I had a doughnut. 

3. We went to a lovely sandy river beach. With beautiful sunbeams showering us. My son found an ant by the public bathrooms and hung out there, playing in the shade. 

4. I had a great conversation with a guy named Patrick and his eight-year old son about music (Loggins & Messina, Steely Dan). They were skipping rocks and whittling spears on a little cove off the Columbia. 

V. I told my children a story in which I was the protagonist, and in which I was incredibly brave, and in which I leaped off a cliff, and their peals of laughter led me to believe they enjoyed it; a post-story discussion uncovered their mis- interpretation of the story, in which they decided I was very un-brave. That made me very sad. 

So, all in all, a horrid day. Thanks for asking.

The Art of the Deal
"Okay Daddy, I will give you a choice: you can either buy us doughnuts OR...you can tell us a story." 

Two hours later, as I finished off an apple fritter and responded to a Q&A regarding the murky details of my cliff-jumping tale of bravery, it dawned on me that I had gotten played. 

Never again, I vowed to myself, as we headed to the river, and then the playground.

Homage to Gary Larson

"Daddy, look, I found a worm!"

Holds up both hands, each clutching something wriggly.

"The worm was too big, so I made two baby worms."

Somewhere, a worm family will be going to bed without their father.

So awful. We are sorry.



The Ramones or The Clash?

(no substitutions)

Something Doesn't Seem Quite Right Here

Can you guys bring us breakfast in bed?

- recent request from our daughter to us, on behalf of her and her brother.

____

Fearless.


I'm sure there's plenty of entertaining cartoons on television these days. But I have difficulty believing that any of them could top the simple brilliance, satiric adventures, and witty writing of The Rocky & Bullwinkle Show, and its classic characters and supporting features. 

A personal favourite: Fractured Fairy Tales, which despite being half a century old, still feels post-modern and edgy. Start with "Rapunzel."

Love.

Cochise, Our Blood Brother

Was telling my children about Cochise, the great Chiricahua Apache leader and warrior, and the friendship he developed with (white) Tom Jeffords. I off-handedly included a reference to the close bond they had, and the concept of 'blood brothers' which has historically been realised via a ritual of making a small cut in the forearm, then letting the blood mingle together in a symbol of eternal trust and brotherhood. Yeah. 

The rest of the story fell on deaf ears to my son after this detail. "I want to CUT my arm too, like Cochise,"

he growled fiercely, scratching at himself with midget fingernails.

"I want to be a blood brother."

Subtract one parental point for misreading the age of my audience. 

Oh well. We'll just keep the super-sharp knives away from him for the rest of the day. And perhaps I'll dis-include some of the fun details of my upcoming story about Montezuma the Aztec leader...

This Time Around (8Track Valentine's Mix)

This Time Around (Love Songs for February 14) from josephivanlong on 8tracks Radio.

1. Yours to Keep / the Teddybears (2006)

2. Can't Take My Eyes Off You / Manic Street Preachers (1996)

3. In Dreams / Roy Orbison (1963)

4. God Knows (You Gotta Give to Get) / El Perro Del Mar (2006)

5. This Time Around / Luna (1994)

6. Inside of Love / Nada Surf (2003)

7. Babybird / Matthew Ryan (2006)

8. Free / Prince (1982)

9. When Doves Cry / The Be Good Tanyas (2006)

10. Oslo Novelist / Grand Archives (2009)

11. Tenuousness / Andrew Bird (2009)

****

No better time to snuggle than a Taco Bell booth after a big bean burrito.

Jonny & Johannes / 2013.02.13

****

Daddy, shall we read some more Three Musketeers? My two-point-five year old boy inquired.

Sure, I said.

He continued: Do you know who d'Artagnan reminds me of?

(did not wait for reply)

Uncle Jonny.

His five-point-five year old sister burst in: Athos reminds me of Uncle Jeremy.

Johannes switches gears: Is the Cardinal's men bad? Are they not very nice?

Yeah, kind of, I said. And then I swiftly changed topics before he inevitably brought Darth Vader into the world of 17th century Parisian intrigue (the Cardinal would be no match).

Tomorrow: Johannes discusses the surprisingly complex character and motivations of Porthos.

SAUL WILLIAMS AND REVEREND DR. MARTIN LUTHER KING, JR. | THE POWER OF YOUR VOICE TO REDIRECT ANY TRUTH.

There are two monologues that give me goosebumps. Every time. One is a speech: Dr. King's I Have a Dream; an oration that has rightfully achieved a place in history for both delivery and content. The other is a song. Saul Williams' Act III Scene 2 (Shakespeare); a work of poetry and mishmash of stripped-down hip hop and dense, swaggering punk against the historical backdrop of the Bard's Brutus & company. Where MLK's Dream was a resolute call to action with all the power of fiery Moses prevailing upon the world to hold hands in solidarity against tyranny, Act III is a resolute call to action with the finger-pointing, fist-raising righteous fury of those who see a dream beyond world-veneering hypocrisy and apathy. It is a shout-out.

I am 36 years old and I still get goosebumps about a lot of things (to start: Amelie, Arcade Fire's Funeral, breakdancing in general, Barry Sanders highlight clips). My eyes are open, my intellect is busy, my experiences are many, but I still have the innocent enthusiasm and curiosity of childhood. Innocence in the sense that I don't need to know all the answers, but I need to know and believe better things are possible. Sometimes I may inspire, sometimes I still need to be inspired.

Today, we had a number of recurring conversations about Martin Luther King, Rosa Parks, race, and justice as we watched archival speeches on YouTube, including his 17-minute Dream classic. Magdelana had a number of insightful questions and commentary. Johannes's questions were of the following variety:

Was Martin Luther King not very nice?

- He was nice…

Oh. Darth Vader is not very nice. Sometimes he was nice, sometimes he was not nice.

- I suppose that is correct.

Did Martin Luther King fight?

- Yes, he did fight, but he -

Johannes interrupts.

Did he fight with a sword?

- Umm, no.

Did he fight with a spear?

- Uhh, no. He did not fight with a sword, or a spear. And to preempt your next question, no, he also did not fight with a gun.

Did he fight with a gun?

- No.

Magdelana lifts her head up from drawing:

Johannes, he fought with LOVE.

Yeah, I guess that's what I want our kids to go out into the world with. Love. Enthusiasm. A cynicism-battling naiveté about the world and its worst, coupled with an energetic desire to highlight what is good and to make it better. To get rid of the bad stuff by first focusing on what is good, then on what needs to change. A willingness to become producers and changers, not just consumers and accepters.

So thanks, Dr. King and Saul Williams, for being agitators. Agitators and inspirers. Our dreams will become more than a fable.

excerpt from Act III Scene 2 (Shakespeare)

Your freedom ain't so free, it's just loose
But the power of your voice could redirect any truth
Shift and shape the world you want
And keep your fears in a noose
Let them dangle from a banner star spangled
I'm willing and able
To lift my dreams up out of their cradle
Nurse and nurture my ideals
'Til they're much more than a fable
I can be all I can be and do much more than I'm paid to
And I won't be a slave toWhat authorities say do
My desire to live within a nation on fire
Where creative passions burn and raise the stakes ever higher

2013.01.21 / Johannes "Martin Luther King" 


2013.01.21 / Magdelana "Martin Luther King" - she was particularly intrigued by the references to mountains in his speech

Saul Williams
Act III Scene 2 (Shakespeare)
Saul Williams
2004

I Still Loved Him, and His Breath was Atrocious and Smelled of Elderly Potatoes and Other Vomit

At 2 a.m. Friday morning, Johannes began calling us loudly from his sister's bed. Poor little boy had emptied the contents of his stomach, via more than one exit, and was miserable.

Note: although throwing up on someone's bed is not ideal, a bed is easier to clean up than a swimming pool.

I always appreciated, growing up, how my parents rarely seemed irritated at their children's various ailments and illnesses. My dad has this heart like a giant moon that gets extra-bright when people get sick, and there are few people kinder to be around when you need some TLC and fistful of peanut M&Ms.

When I got done screaming at Johannes for throwing up, we cleaned and scrubbed him down. I hugged him tight, and almost wretched from the odor. Then he threw up again.

It was a long night.

Later, we woke up, and I still loved him, and his breath was atrocious and smelled of elderly potatoes and other vomit. 

2013.01.05

2013.01.05

We did celebrate Christmas this year, but Micael & Leanna decided to violate the treaty and continue giving our children presents. Below, you will notice that Johannes is simultaneously modeling both pairs of new underwear he received, as well as the non-prescription shades.

I will use Micael for a short rant real quick. This is my controversial opening statement:

Children often do not usually know what they want, probably.

(I tried to leave myself a little wiggle room with the statement in case I am directly confronted)
One of the charming characteristics of children is that they frequently state what they want in the moment without fear of embarassment, ridicule, or censure. They want a cookie, so they ask for a cookie. They want a toy, so they take a toy. But it is a constantly revolving series of wants that they have. They are usually not absolute: they are absolute in their mind until a better option comes along.

If we give our children a bowl of broccoli, they will enjoy that bowl of broccoli, because they like broccoli.

If we give our children a choice between a bowl of broccoli and a plate of cookies, they will choose the cookies, and become upset if we then take the cookies away and demand they eat the broccoli, because the choice has moved from being about A) eating something to B) choosing between what they would prefer to eat more. And there is no going back once the plate of cookies is an option.

I know some adults who hold to a faux-rigorous code of conduct with children: 

Oh, if the kids want me to play with them, they'll let me know.

And variations of that; the idea that you want to be uber-respectful and not push them to do anything they might not want to do; that they'll let you know when they want or need something.

Respect is a fundamental concept in our family. It's a biggie. But respecting children does not mean A) granting every wish, B) caving to every demand or want, or C) waiting for them to tell you exactly what it is they want.

Kids like to play. So, if you're an adult, you can either A) ask if it's okay to play with them, or B) just start playing with them. Join in with whatever it is they're doing.

So: the delicate balance between letting them have their space and between joining in, at their level, and simply becoming part of their world.

Shortly after snapping the below photograph, I watched Micael snatch my daughter off her feet as she walked by, and she smiled big and struggled mightily in the air.

She did not ask to be grabbed. She did not grant permission to be pulled mid-stride and hoisted in the air. But Micael, in an intuition based on (probably) both gut instinct and experience from interacting with her, knew it would be okay. He pulled her in the air, her feet flailing and laughing and fighting to break free...and that magic moment arrived where Fun is at its apex and Frustration will begin shortly...and that is the point to stop. So he let her writhe free and scamper off; her feeling brave and bold over having "broke free on all by myself."

A tiny moment, but indicative of how Becca and I have appreciated his treatment of our children: respectful, not fighting for their attention or dueling for affection, but quietly stepping in and recognizing when are the right moments to crash into their world. 

Kids may not always know what they want, but they know when they are truly being respected. And sometimes, Respect means snatching somebody out of the air.

Micael has been an ever-growing enjoyable and popular part of our lives. Someday, perhaps Johannes will be big enough to snatch him out of the air as he passes. Or at least big enough to shove him in the swimming pool.

2013.01.05

One Note on Wrestling:
Magdelana, at five years old, can clothesline me like Lawrence Taylor. I am convinced that our next Emergency Room trip will be for me, dripping blood and broken bones after getting assaulted by our flying baboon of a daughter and her aggressive strategies in trying to take me down. That is the preface to what I say next:

We were wrestling earlier this weekend, and after taking a few elbows to the head and being violently air-tackled from the headboard of her bed, I finally decided that it was my turn to win, so I pinned her down and contorted my Gosling-esque jawline into my best monster face. Raaawwwrrrr! My eyes bulged out and I was so scary I was scaring myself.

She shook her head: Daddy! You have to be gentle with little children! You have to be gentle with us!

I have never rolled my eyes as big as I did following her statement.

Daddy! It's true!

Of course, Magdelana. Of course.

One More Note on Wrestling:
I decided last night to rent Brave, the 2012 Pixar film about a brave young princess who defies conventions and uses her wits and archery skills to undo an evil curse. 

(Always interested in cinematic portrayals of brave young heroines defying conventions and refusing to wait for rescue :)

There's a scene at the beginning where the young girl, Merida is running around and her mom starts chasing her, pretending to be a wild bear, and finally catches her, Raaawwwrr!, tackling and wrestling her daughter, laughing and fighting.

Wouldn't it be cool if you had a Mom like that? I said, grin in my heart.

Daddy! The chastisement began again. We DO HAVE A MAMA LIKE THAT! Our Mama does that with us...doesn't she, Johanni!

Oh, that's right, I said. I suppose she does.

She does, and she is fierce. But I am still a much better wrestler than her...but we'll keep that between us, okay? Thanks.

The Wind Was Loud, But Our Hearts Remained Brave

2013.01.05

Grumpy Muppets
Saturday night, we had planned to go to a party event thing, but Johannes was still a bit ill-feeling and -tempered, and we didn't want to infect other wee ones, so Becca took Mags to the event, and I brought a very grumpy boy home. 

I want my Mommy! I want my Sissie! Over and over, in most pathetic fashion.

Upshot was that I got an evening with just my boy, and eventually he snuggled in and we ate a package of Saltines and decided to watch Happy Feet.  I went to turn the telly on just as he was picking up the remote, and he made an erroneous cause-and-effect assumption, convinced that he had just mastered the art of Remote Controlling the Television. His immediate enthusiasm was too great to squash, so I let him live the delusion.

I turned the television on all by myself! I'm going to tell my Mommy and my Sissie!

I was really getting into the dancing penguin flick, but Johannes lost interest. 

I want to watch Muppets. he said.

Tried to dissuade him, and when he continued to express dissatisfaction with Happy Feet, I tried to convince him of how great Ratatouille would be. Nope.

I want to watch Muppets.

Not just any Muppets. The Muppet Movie from 1979. We have enjoyed it more than once...and I really didn't feel like watching it again. But he did, badly.

So we did. Snuggled and Saltine-d and carrying on running commentary about each and every scene. The Muppets Movie has a wink-wink meta structure that makes its self-aware, '70s grooving plot enjoyable for big people too (especially the ones who haven't already seen it half a dozen times :) The darkly-saturated scenes and smart mix of banter and old-school action give it a feel that is rooted in the 70s, yet feels prescient and timeless now.

And there's at least one two-year old these days who loves it.

Finally bedtime came and I said OK we're turning it off now and he got very mad at me for the 70th time that afternoon, but then we snuggled some more and I sang the melancholy & hopeful Tomorrow from Annie a dozen times and he snozzled off to slumber.

Breakfast & Book: King Arthur's Very Great Grandson

Hey, That's One Way to Say Goodbye Before Leaving on a Jet Plane (With a Shotgun Blast of Conversation About the Comparative Badness & Fighting Ability of Vikings to Darth Vader).

Sadly, California claimed Jeremy again, and he left cozy wet Portland for sweet little Hollywood. The aroma of his music hangs in the Oregon air like rhododendrons.

2013.01.05

One of my goals the last ten years is to start being on time and stop returning things late, like the Redbox DVDs I rented (see above).

Slight Tangent:
Finally watched The Amazing Spider-Man last night; I assured Becca she needed to know nothing about Spidey because this was a reboot of the franchise. What we call an origin film, which then led to a short description of what an origin film is.

I had heard many positive things, so my expectations were medium-high, and were met pleasantly met. Instead of Tobey Maguire's nerdy depiction of Peter Parker, we have Andrew Garfield's geeky brawn; Emma Stone as the love interest is captivating, but underdeveloped. The swinging action scenes are not evolutionarily better than what (previous director) Sam Raimi created with vertigo-inducing energy, but they're a fresh, more point-of-view style approach that fits well with Garfield's more athletic presence. Rhys Ifans as the villain falls a bit flat in an attempt to go in a more nuanced, grayish shade of nemesis, but he just doesn't have the manic charisma of a Willem Dafoe or Heath Ledger. Denis Leary and Martin Sheen are excellent additions in supporting roles. Becca stayed awake for bits and pieces of it, so she at least some vague idea of what was happening. It was good. Dug it. The End.
End of Tangent.

It's Never Too Late in the Day to Shop in Style.

2013.01.06

So my assistants came with me to return the films, and they were full of verve. I invented a story involving Darth Vader, Olaf the Viking, Amelia Earhardt, and Sir Robert Bruce on the drive down, and perhaps I will share it with you here one of these days soon...

So, it was another normal weekend, and I hope the week ahead is normal too, minus the vomiting. 

Happy week ahead, all!

****

all photographs ©2013 Joseph Ivan Long

The Most Normal Day in the History of Forever

- Let's have oats for breakfast.

It's not called 'oats,' it's called 'oatmeal!'

The Day Begins / 2013.01.02

Masters of the Universe, Unite! (Some Days, Nobody Understands You Better Than Your Nemesis).

The Day Ends / 2013.01.02

Daddy, Hulk is being rude. He's making a face that  I don't like. He's being mean.

- Johannes, eating oatmeal and inspecting his new Avengers bowl this morning. The superhero pantheon, mashed up with Star Wars, Sesame Street, and various fairy tales, has been on his mind much lately.


Song of the Day : Lo Boob Oscillator / Stereolab

Five Things About the Only First Day of the Only 2013 That Will Ever Exist In This Universe

01.
I wish something bad would happen so I could call 9-1-1.

- Magdelana, 5

Sadly, her wish went unfulfilled.


02. 
A Visual Depiction of the Dynamic Range of Universal Emotions the World Will Experience Over the Coming Year.

2013.01.01

It was a very windy day. 

Windy days do not make everyone cheerful.

03. 

Conversation with Johannes (2.5) at bedtime:

Daddy, is Superman real?

- Umm...well, who do you know that is real?

Batman? Hulk?

- Almost. Try one more.

You are real.

- Yep, that is correct. I am real. 

And owls are real.

- Yep, owls are real.

No, owls aren't real!

- Yep. Owls are real, Johannes.

Oh. And lights are real. Christmas lights are real. And Bob is real.

- Bob? You mean Bob your dolly? The one laying next to you in bed who's already sleeping, like you should be?

Yeah. Bob is real.

- Okay...are you pretending that Bob is real, like we pretend Superman is real?

Yeah. And drumsticks are real. They're for playing drums.

- Yep. 

04.

Great-Grumpy with Children Reading Newspapers.

2013.01.01

05.

Things I did today:

- Made a pot of really good coffee and enjoyed a couple cups with my bride and sister-in-law.

- Weighed myself and remembered I forgot to exercise last year.

- Ate some creamy & delicious potato soup that my mother-in-law invented.

- Played a card game with my in-laws in which my attempts to cheat were foiled, and I lost, as usual, making the beginning of the year a very depressing one.

- Had the shower go cold halfway through, which leads me to suspect that the year ahead really will be horrid.

- Had a coffee date with Becca in order to make a list of resolutions and plan for the year ahead, and the primary thing we figured out is that we need to have many more coffee dates in order to figure things out.

- Am writing this while my wife is paying bills next to me.

- Looking forward to maybe - maybe - starting the Joseph-Gordon Levitt sci-fi thriller Looper this evening. Maybe.

We'll see. Hello, Twenty-Thirteen. I'll be around.

Song of the Day: Rose Rouge / St. Germaine

That Is a Really Good Question, Mick

Mama, 

Magdelana asked,

why didn't you name Johannes "Mick?"

Mick. 

How did we never think of that?

Homeland and Another Four Things (Which Makes Five)

HOMELAND.

Showtime's action drama about a CIA agent who suspects that a hero POW returning from Iraq is actually a turned al-Qaeda agent has received a few comparisons to 24. It's true that it shares that show's theme of ratcheted suspense as one agent battles bureacracy, hidden agendas, and incompetent allies in an attempt to save the nation. 

But while 24 had a breakneck pace of betrayals and broken alliances and constantly shifting plot points, Homeland steadily steers its way more measuredly, yet grippingly toward a single plot resolution. The cast of characters is relatively small, which puts a huge amount of responsibility on both the writing and the acting to make the oversize plot credible. Agent Carrie Mathison, played by Claire Danes, is a brilliant agent with a big secret: she's also bipolar. Her portrayal also diverges from 24's Jack Bauer hero in the sense that while his is a decisive, calm, collected figure who somehow manages to always make the right decision amidst chaos, her character is a maelstrom of gut-level brilliance, reckless decision-making, and heartwrenching heart-on-sleeve emotions. She is a hero, but not always a likeable one, or a rational one, or an inspirational one. She is pathetic and ferocious; an amalgamation of fascinating contradictions that makes her as interesting a character as some of the best villains.

It's so good. And now we're going to knock off the last episode of Season 1...after the children are asleep.

To sleep, children!

A BLATANT LIE BETWEEN A FIVE- AND TWO-YEAR OLD.

She comes up to him where he is reading a Shel Silverstein book on the couch:

Can I have a kiss, Johanni?

- Nope.

Hey! Why not?

He closes eyes tight

- I'm sleeping. Because I'm sleeping.

PENCIL.

Things that are very important to Johannes right now:

A. His pink blanket.

B. His pencil. 

Not just any pencil, but a pencil he designates as his Pencil du Jour. It might be a heavy pencil (what an adult would consider an average length #2). Or it might be a baby pencil (any pencil that is smaller than a heavy pencil). Sometimes, there are several pencils. He may be fastened to that particular pencil, or collection of pencils, for one day, or it might be several days. At some point, he will decide to arbitrarily replace it with another different-sized, or different-coloured pencil, but there is no making that decision for him. He will decide, no one else. There will be a clatter during the night, which means that his pencil has fallen from his crib, and that it must be retrieved so that he can once again sleep soundly...with it clutched in his chubby fist, pink blankie pulled up to his chin.

His blanket and his pencils are important to him. They must not be separated, which can lead to trouble when he inevitably sets his pencil down to do something like PLAY, and then forgets where he set it, and then becomes frustrated at us for not being able to find it immediately.

I guess we're glad he's not into pocketknives yet.

THE BFG.
On Sunday recent, Becca, Mags & I went on a date to the Northwest Children's Theater to see their adaptation of Roald Dahl's classic tale of cannibalistic villains and the girl who defeats them. We bought licorice beforehand, then settled into a fourth row seat to enjoy the adventures of Sophie and the Big Friendly Giant as they dreamt up a way to defeat the awful children-eating giants. Along the way, they eat disgusting snozzcucumbers, practice spirited whizzlepopping in the Queen's face, and converse in the BFG's beautifully mangled wordplay. The performances were lively and the sets nicely designed, though the heads of the giant costumes were a little confusing to me, in the sense that you could still see the actual actor's heads, which took me out of the "the world" a bit.

We had a glorious time, and hope to attend upcoming performances of Seussology, Peter Pan, and Cinderella there.

ROLOFF FARMS PUMPKIN PATCH.

We went in the rain, in the windy rain. It is the farm of the Little People, the people from that TLC show about little people in Hillsboro, Oregon. I have never seen it. But we have gone to their pumpkin patch three years running, so we trekked over again last weekend.

The rain flung its darts against us with fury, but some of us smiled and some of us grumbled and Becca and I raced to the top of a hay pyramid and stood victorious in the rain, watching as our grumbly children watched from the safety of cover and shook their heads at their crazy parents.

My parents accompanied us and we went through a tiny scary house that had different rooms with pumpkins dressed as people and ghosts, and Johannes was both mesmerized and terrified; the former emotion carried weight, so we went through again and again and again.

As we left, the last ones in the parking lot, a regal, pretty figure walked slowly past us. Our eyes caught, she stopped and chatted. Amy Roloff, the diminutive mom of the clan. We talked briefly of her plans to add a James and the Giant Peach themed attraction next October, and we said goodbye and waved.

Then slowly drove out through the Hillsboro country roads, admiring the melange of colors and setting suns and letting Joseph Arthur quietly soundtrack the evening.

**

Leave a comment if you feel like it...and thanks for stopping by. Have a magical and delightful day!"

Five Things

A. 
She shook me, and prodded me, and I groaned and rolled over and begged to sleep for two more minutes and she said No Daddy, you have to get up now. And I looked out the window at the darkness and thought She is her father's daughter. And I got up.

Fifteen minutes later, she looks up at me with five-year old mischief:

Daddy, why did you make us get up so early?

Grrr.

B. 
We went exploring in the woods this morning and drank hot chocolate out of mugs. She used a straw; I did not. Johannes refused to try any, because he was worried the hot chocolate was too hot. 

We did not see any horse snakes or wild hogs.

III.
What do you want to listen to first today? I said.

Girls Just Wanna Have Fun! she yelled.

So I put on Cyndi Lauper, and then we listened to Chopin.

D. 
The Presidential election will be decided sometime next month, I think.

People are talking about it, I think.

On Facebook last night, I suggested that in lieu of a third debate, there could be a pillowfight.

That suggestion received a lot of support.

But I don't know that anything will come from it. I am guessing that Mr. Obama and Mr. Romney will stick with another debate.

E. 
What did you have for breakfast yesterday? I asked Magdelana.

She thought with purpose.

- We had...let's see...Mama fed us ice cream, and chicken, and beef, and pig. Yep. That's what we had for breakfast.

I can see that I need to have a conversation with my wife.

My Precious

I love you,

I said softly as he snuggled his two-year old head against my chest and closed his eyes,

my precious boy.

I felt his eyelids drift up for a second and his lips move quietly.

You...are...my...precious daddy,

he whispered.

__

That is how to end a day.

Everybody Hurts (But Especially Me At the Moment, Due to Unbearable Pain That is Worse Than Anything That Anyone In the World Has Ever Experienced, But Fortunately I Am Quietly Being Brave and Resisting the Urge to Shriek)

Daddy?

Yes, Magdelana?

I have to go to the bathroom. Which bathroom do you think I should use?

How about...the blue bathroom.

Okay. I think I'll use the yellow bathroom. Thanks!

Everybody Hurts. R.E.M. 1992, off Automatic for the People. A very soft, beautiful, contemplative ballad that should never be listened to before 8pm.