Cazenovia Creek

Yet Another Thaw

2012-01-31T21:29:00.000-05:00

"Popping the Twine" (Photo 31/365)

Winter can gain no traction. I ran three miles in snow flurries yesterday afternoon yet today it was a balmy 55. Got home, put the bag down, grabbed the kids and broke out the nets for some hockey and driveway bowling. Took a walk up the street, caught between the different paces of the two boys - Coh behind struggling on his Christmas scooter and Q ahead waiting for me to help him back onto his still-a-bit-too-tall bike. Suet scraps littering the lawn, flocks of sparrows darting between shrubs, overworked sump pumps bursting onto front lawns, the neighborhood awakening in a stream of power walkers.

Make Time

2012-01-30T21:03:00.002-05:00

"Make Time" (Photo 30/365)

Sometimes I feel like my most oft repeated phrases are:
"not now"
"maybe in a few minutes"
"no"
or "go see your mother."

But, if not now,
when?
Best slow down.
Be present.
"Yes."
"Right now bud."
"I'd be happy too."

Make time.
Put other things aside.

Wait Time

2012-01-29T20:20:00.001-05:00

One wonders what goes on in their heads while they wait for their shifts. Each daydream in different directions only to converge for a shared giggle or to pass a water bottle. At the buzzer they jump off the bench, face off and chase the puck in unison working towards the same twined goal.

"Wait Time" (Photo 29/365)

Stickers and Stars

2012-01-28T22:26:00.000-05:00

"Stickers and Stars" (Photo 28/365)

I remember a number of things about fourth grade. I'm pretty sure I got the chicken pox. My teacher passed around a plush chicken to whomever talked out of turn and the unfortunate student left holding the chicken had to write the "no talking promise" twenty five times. My friend and I chewed up the ends of our Bic pens until our teeth went crooked. Every boy in the class had a crush on a girl named Amy. Quiet Riot's Metal Health was the cassete of choice and I had a friends' birthday party at Showbiz Pizza Place.

It was also the year of the stickerbook. Every boy in our class had one. We collected NFL and NHL stickers that entire school year. I remember going to Fay's with my Mom and picking up four packets of stickers for $.25 a piece. I can still almost feel the packets and remember flipping through separating doubles. I remember the foil of Marcus Allen's Super Bowl MVP picture and Russ Grimm's dour face. Though the Bills stunk I can still picture Chris Keating standing on the sidelines with his hands on his hips looking vaguely like Marc Singer from the V miniseries.

We bought Quinn a Panini NHL sticker book last week and today some stickers arrived in the mail. As times have changed you can no longer go into your local drug store and pick up a handful of packets of stickers. Even our local card shop is out of stock. Instead, you must order batches of stickers directly from the company online and wait for them to arrive. Something is missing when a kid can't buy a pack of stickers on impulse and feel the immediate gratification of ripping open a pack.

Nonetheless, the kid is into it. Some things are the same. The way he opens up the pack, flicks through, and inspects each sticker. The way he struggles to get the back off and hurries through to find the resting place of each sticker. I remember that. Maybe he will also feel the growing satisfaction of seeing a page fill in with players as a team takes shape, the extra weight of a book laden with stickers, and the sweet imperfection of pages that will no longer lay flat. Hopefully, as I did in 1984, he will know the feeling of pursuing and completing something as the number of blanks steadily decreases. And maybe someday in the future he too will be able to go into the rafters of his garage, take out his tattered book of stickers, and remember what it was like to be a kid collecting stars.

Fruits of My Labor

2012-01-27T10:24:00.000-05:00

"Fruits of My Labor" (Photo 27/365)

In late December I started to put the home beer brewing to use that I received from my mother for my birthday. I started off with the IPA extract that came with the kit. I let the beer ferment for two weeks in my closet and then added the sugar to carbonate during the bottling process. Two weeks later it was time to refrigerate.

Last night we took the kids over to our friends' house for pasta and sauce. I figured this would be as good a time as any to try out the brew. I was pleasantly surprised that when I unscrewed the cap the carbonation escaped. Apparently, I had done at least one step right.

My friend Mark and I poured two pints and had a drink. The moment of truth had arrived. It was alright. It tasted like IPA, but not good IPA. I won't be threatening production at the Ithaca Brewing Company or Dogfish Head Brewery anytime soon. It was also pretty weak and as I don't know how to measure alcohol content I guess I'll never know how potent it was.

It was, however, good enough to give it another try. In the early days of fermenting I left the container up in my upstairs closet and I know that the temperature regularly dips below 60 because our thermostat is downstairs so I'm wondering if that jammed things up. I'm going to have Shannon pick me up a couple of jugs of filtered water from the store tomorrow and will give the Witbier a try.

Nebulized

2012-01-26T19:54:00.001-05:00

"Nebulized" (Photo 26/365)

We were jarred from a peaceful evening last night around 10 pm. I was in the middle of catching up on Walking Dead when I heard horrific hacking from somewhere. At first I couldn't tell if it was zombie moans from the TV, my imagination, or noise emanating from the kids rooms upstairs. After determining it to be the latter I sprinted upstairs to find Quinn bawling and struggling to stop coughing.

We got out the nebulizer, did a treatment. Took him for a car ride with open windows in the snowy night. After the first segment of The Daily Show I took him back upstairs and lubed his feet, back, and neck up with Vick's Vapor Rub. Later on I laid down some blankets and slept on his floor.

This morning Shan took him to the doctor where he was diagnosed with croup which may or may not be tied to his asthma. For the next few days the doctor has called for regular nebulizer treatments and the avoidance of allergic triggers.

Cue the Zombies

2012-01-25T11:03:00.000-05:00

I just finished what may prove to be the most important book I've ever read. I'll go one step further. I may have just finished reading what may prove to be the most important book written in the course of human history.

Of course, it would take a zombie apocalypse to push it to this level of importance, so for the time being let me just say that I just finished a pretty freaking entertaining book. World War Z: An Oral History of the Zombie War by Max Brooks has a simple premise. A zombie war occurred, the world was overrun and a reporter went out to interview survivors to try to piece together the story of the resulting global war.

The book was great. Brooks lays out all these relatively plausible scenarios about what would happen in different parts of the world and takes into account all the little factors that would possibly impact survival; changing seasons, geographical location, politics, religion, as well as human psychology. I found myself reading along and daydreaming to the natural questions of someone reading such a book. What would I do? What must I consider? In the event that man eating undead overran our cities where would I take the kids? What was cool is that Brooks imagined so many things that I've never really thought about. This may be a spoiler but I'll never look at the ocean the same way again.

We live in an interesting century -- it is a time of relative peace yet underneath the surface there has been a swell of unease that terror might lie right below the surface. From 9/11 to sarin in Tokyo subways to the swine flu to images of people fleeing NYC during the power outage in the early 2000's to the constant bombardment of terror threat levels to reports of earth killing asteroids to rumors of extremist countries flirting with nuclear proliferation to forecasts of our pending doom on 12/21/12, humanity seems to have a subconscious preoccupation that eventually a catastrophe may disrupt life as we know it and we may have to flee the relatively safe communities we have built for ourselves. Brooks explores this cultural worry and leaves us asking one very important question; what will you do if shit goes down?

"Cue the Zombies" (Photo 25/365)

Decisions

2012-01-24T20:05:00.003-05:00

"Decisions" (Photo 24/365)

I had a couple of photo moments not work out today. Finally, right before bed time, my son was caught between his two loves; drawing and bowling. Sometimes it is hard to decide.

Climate Change

2012-01-23T21:10:00.002-05:00

"Climate Change" (Photo 23/365)

Erratic weather abounds! Most of Western New York was covered in four inches of snow for the past couple of days. It seemed like winter was finally here.

Then, all of the sudden, out of the blue comes another fifty degree rainy day. The snow melted leaving a large swamp in my backyard.

When Cohen wasn't paying attention I grabbed my camera and Bethany, his favorite dinosaur, and waded out to take some pictures.

Game Puck

2012-01-22T12:35:00.001-05:00

"Game Puck" (Photo 22/365)

This morning Quinn played in his third official hockey game. I didn't bring the camera because I wanted to just sit back and watch for awhile.

The other team had only five players show (we had our usual 12) so they basically quadruple shifted two of their best players. One kid scored about eight goals.

Quinn's line played really well though. After it became clear that this kid could score at will they bared down and did everything they could do to shut him down - pressured him, hooked him, cut him off -- I swear one kid threw an open ice body check.

They also put quite a good amount of pressure on the offensive side of things. Quinn's buddy Tyler netted a hat trick and Quinn added two goals and an assist (he claims three goals -- he scored one moments after the buzzer). It figures that I would leave my camera home on the day he scored his first goal ever. He was so psyched on his first he skated the length of the ice with his hands raised. Unfortunately he didn't notice that the other team's superstar was bringing the puck back up the ice and a distracted Quinn was the only thing between him and a breakaway.

After the game the coach came up, gave him a pat on the helmet and issued him the game puck which produced a toothy smile that went from ear strap to ear strap. It was a good day at the rink.

Choke

2012-01-21T12:00:00.000-05:00

"Choke" (Photo 21/365)

I took an afternoon walk this afternoon at Mill Road Park. It was a lonely walk in the woods; aside from a fresh set of dog and human tracks in the snow there was nary a soul. In fact, besides an elusive bird flittering at the mouth of the trail I didn't see any animals on my whole walk.

And it was cold. I had my boots on and in the middle of my walk it dawned upon me that it has been awhile since I've been out plodding in the fields in the middle of winter. Shoot, probably not since I was a teenager. I forgot how cold the feet get cold out there in the snow.

I snapped some pictures here and there -- nothing remarkable. On the way back I came across this dead tree covered in creeping vines. I thought it looked neat.

Chaff

2012-01-20T20:18:00.001-05:00

"Chaff" (Photo 20/365)

On the way home from work today I stopped at the West Seneca Wetlands, got out of the car with the camera and took a quick trek around the ponds in an attempt to capture something for today's picture. There wasn't much going on. A train with a single car. Four teenagers playing on the train tracks across the water. Beaver tracks leading from one frozen body of water to another. The hazy winter sun whispering through the translucent clouds guarded by ten story steel electric towers. A hawk on a distant telephone pole. All these shots just out of reach of the camera, my position and my imagination.

I settled on this dead stalk. I'm not sure what it is. I love the look of dry, deadened weeds. They are hauntingly beautiful. I've been reading World War Z: An Oral History of the Zombie War, so please excuse the grim mood of the photo, but as the desperate sun shone on the rusted train tracks and labyrinthine power lines, ponds frozen in the background, I couldn't help but acknowledge the possibility Yeats spoke of so many years ago -- "things fall apart; the centre cannot hold."

January Bell

2012-01-19T17:16:00.003-05:00

"January Bell" (Photo 19/365)

Looking out the window right now and it is downright blizzardy! A few minutes earlier I was stalking around the house with a camera, looked out my front window and noticed how picturesque the Christmas bell looked now that it finally was glazed with snow.

Where was this wintry weather last month? On a side note, when am I going to take down the Christmas lights now that winter has arrived?

Resistance is Futile

2012-01-18T22:09:00.001-05:00

"Resistance if Futile" (Photo 18/365)

Cohen is at that age where he is becoming a little too headstrong to be put down for a nap. (I usually have no problem but he tends to take some liberties with his mother.) Nevertheless, when he refuses to take a nap it is almost inevitable that around 4:30 he can be found somewhere trying to reclaim whatever shut eye he lost to his own stubbornness. It is like he is desperately trying to shrug off this last vestige of baby-ness but he just can't seem to summon up the effort and ultimately succumbs to never neverland.

A Monster Calls

2012-01-17T20:29:00.000-05:00

"A Monster Calls" (Photo 17/365)

Ugh. Sunday night my throat started hurting. Life devolved very quickly from there. Chloraseptic. Advil Cold and Sinus. Meals consisting of cereal and soups. I'm sure sledding yesterday didn't help. Today I called in due to illness for the second time in two weeks. Calling in sick is a rarity for me but last night I felt horrible. 102 fever. Splitting headache. Forks seemingly jammed into my throat. I was asleep by 9.

Today I mostly spent the day on the couch. Quinn and I played the new Legend of Zelda while we waited for the bus to come. After loafing I drove Cohen to preschool and then returned to the couch. An hour later I picked Cohen up and then back to the couch for a nap.

Later, while Cohen napped I read the last eighty pages of Patrick Ness' A Monster Calls. As explained in the author's note in the beginning of the novel, the idea for the book came from Siobhan Dowd, a young adult novelist who died of cancer before she begin the tale. Patrick Ness, author of the Chaos Walking trilogy was approached to write the novel.

The resulting partially illustrated novel is the story of 13 year old Conor's journey in dealing with his mother's cancer. His mom is slipping and he must come to terms with life all while being visited by a monstrous yew tree which grows in his backyard. It was a wonderfully sad book -- vivid, concise, inventive -- the perfect book to read on a rainy January day, sprawled on the couch, looking up only to glance at the chickadees and sparrows darting from the lilac tree to the feeder.

Afternoon on the Slope

2012-01-16T10:29:00.000-05:00

"No Sledding" (Photo 16/365)

The kids were a bit restless yesterday so we decided to head over to Elma Meadows to do some sledding. The last time we went sledding (if you don't count the crappy little hill at a playground two miles from my house, which I don't, Cohen was in a car seat and not having much fun out in the wintry cold.

This time was a lot different. Quinn went solo on the big hill and loved it. No apprehension about it -- he got right on his knees, held onto the handles and zipped off down the hill. Shannon and I both took Cohen down the big hill on the plastic sled and he loved it too.

As usual, the walk back up the hill was treacherous. I couldn't get a foothold when dragging either of the boys up on the sled and Shannon was wearing tractionless Uggs. But, we'll just chalk it up to good exercise.

We rounded out the afternoon with hot chocolate and french fries in an overcrowded lodge. Not a bad afternoon.

Home Brew

2012-01-15T14:02:00.000-05:00

"Home Brew" (Photo 15/365)

After waiting a little more than two weeks, it is time to bottle my first batch of beer! My mother bought the Mr. Beer home brew kit for my birthday. It has been fermenting in the front closet for the past seventeen days.

This afternoon I emptied the contents of the two gallon keg into eight sanitized bottles with a bit of sugar and again banished them to the closet where the sugar will cause them to become carbonated.

I'm excited! This hobby marries my do it yourself ethos and one of my favorite liquid substances. Too much upside to capture in writing!

Saint Winter

2012-01-14T20:44:00.001-05:00

"Saint Winter" (Photo 14/365)

Snowkeh

2012-01-13T20:27:00.002-05:00

"Snowkeh" (Photo 13/365)

I awoke today to heavy snowfall and high winds. Ten car pileup on the thruway slowed morning traffic. The weather canceled my parents' flight to Florida. Our school even dismissed the students fifteen minutes early. This was the first major winter event this season.

I took some pictures out of my classroom window this morning -- tight focus on ice that had collected on a window, a snow covered birds nest -- but was ultimately unhappy with my shots. So, on the ride home I tried to mess around with focus and bokeh and the ater that collected on my windshield. I'm not happy with the results, but I think experimentation is the important thing. I think that what might be really important when messing around with depth of field and focus is that you have something interesting to focus on in the foreground -- I don't think that drops of water on the windshield cut it.

Lethargy

2012-01-12T19:57:00.001-05:00

"Lethargy" (Photo 12/364)

Been feeling a little bit run down the past three days. I don't know if it is a post holiday swoon, a discreet bug or a malaise brought about by this endless autumnal weather, but it has been hard to will myself to do anything constructive. I haven't been to the gym since Monday. The past few days have been perfect for running outside but I haven't been able to impel myself to do so. Last night I was bored and went to bed at 9:30 and fell asleep within minutes. The book I'm reading, The Art of Fielding, is also dragging down me down as I can't read it for any sustained amount of time before falling asleep. I'm 300 pages into it so I feel like I can't stop now but it doesn't will me back.

This weekend is a long one. Martin Luther King Holiday. I have very little correcting. My student teacher is carrying a large part of my correcting and teaching load and doing so proficiently. I need to shake myself from this spiritual morass and use my time well -- get at all these things I always wish I had time to do. It kind of makes me wonder. I fret all the time about having this assignment to correct, this lesson to plan, this workload to maintain, but some small part of me wonders if these minutia are the fuel that keeps the fire burning.

Winter Thistle

2012-01-11T17:19:00.001-05:00

"Winter Thistle" (Photo 11/365)

January 11th and still unseasonably warm in Buffalo, NY. The temperature was a shade under 50 so the boys and I decided to take a nature walk after school. We took a low key stroll through the Leydecker access point on Cazenovia Creek. I took some pictures, Quinn took some pictures. We threw rocks in the water. Cohen peed all over himself while trying to lift his jacket up to sprinkle the weeds.

I'm listening to the news in the background and the weatherman just reported that we are have had 40 inches of snow fewer than the average for the region. Unfortunately, this streak seems to be nearing an end as a storm is set to hit Western New York on Friday. It was enjoyable while it lasted, but I'm finally ready to welcome winter.

The Swings and Pitfalls of Nostalgia

2012-01-10T20:08:00.001-05:00

"The Swings and Pitfalls of Nostalgia" (Photo 10/365)

Over the break I spent a few days attempting to hack my Wii. After quite a fuss involving web guides and stubborn SD cards, I finally found success and installed both an Atari and NES emulator on my Wii.

I am a packrat so I held on to my Atari and NES games for years hoping that one day I'd find the right amount of space and ingenuity to find a way to be able to play whatever game I wanted whenever I wanted. I finally gave up and sold most of my stuff at a garage sale a few years back in an attempt to clear out my childhood clutter. I finally had to face the fact that my Atari AC adapter was not going to be resurrected and that I pressed the NES game lowering mechanism into oblivion. Now, thanks to these virtual systems I can enjoy those games I owned for so many years.

Though their influence has diminished since the onset of fatherhood, video games were always a huge part of my life. I still remember the day my parents came home with our first Atari. We'd sit around as a family and play Adventure, Combat, Pacman, Pitfall and Atlantis. We had boxes of games and looked forward to what each Christmas would bring. The games were simple but we'd play them as a family for hours.

By the time the NES rolled around, video game time was spent more so with friends. We'd have sleepovers at friends' houses and stay up well into morning playing The Legend of Zelda, Goonies, and Rygar. Ice Hockey and Blades of Steel tournaments led into marathon bouts of John Elway's Football. Summer nights and winter days were engulfed in games. Some of my longest lasting friendships began when I was invited over to my friend Chris' house one September day after school to play Ikari Warriors II.

Where I left off as a gamer Quinn has picked up. He gets off the school bus, grabs his controller and a mini sleeve of Saltines and jumps right into Wii Party. Lately I've been joining in (though, admittedly, I am no match for his six year old prowess). When I play, the cycle continues. My Dad and I played Real Sports Football when he got home from work and Q and I have a go at the complex board game of Wii Party. Someday he'll have sleepovers and explore virtual worlds in the communion of his lifelong friends.

Over the past week I've been "plugging in" and having a go. Today I played Pitfall and made it further than I ever remember making it. I had my center gun blown up repeatedly in Atlantis and was gobbled up by ghosts in Pacman. I even set out to beat the 2nd world in Adventure, a feat I never mustered in my youth. I got reacquainted with Joust, Missile Command, Bowling and Asteroids. I introduced my kids to the simplicity of Elevator Action and 1942. The cool thing is that these games were so simple that they still have legs. You can pick them up, play, and turn them off. No saving, no finishing a world, no maps and no hidden eggs. You turn it on, beat your thumb into submission, and go on your merry way. It wasn't a bad way to spend an afternoon in 1981 and it's not a bad way to pass the time in 2012.

Mornings at the Farm

2012-01-09T15:43:00.001-05:00

This morning was quite eventful at the homestead. We had a hawk, a tree full of starlings, chickadees, sparrows, juncos, cardinals, and eight squirrels. Most of these furry and feathery friends are drawn by our hanging feeders (including the peanut butter feeder hung by Firewire which is depicted below). During the late morning a blue heron dropped by to poke around in the yet to be frozen stream.

Strange Fruit

A family of sparrows has taken up residence in our bush.

Hmmm, this looks strange.

And this looks like strange wire. (365project Photo 9/365)

Awaiting further directions

A blue heron dropped by. Unfortunately I couldn't get closer to get a picture unobscured by our green fence. As soon as he saw me he took off.

Breaking Down the Ice

2012-01-08T13:57:00.003-05:00

Breaking Down the Ice (Photo 8/365)

Quinn had his first official hockey game this morning. There are six teams in the Mini-mite league so the ice is split up into thirds and six teams play three games simultaneously.

It's sloppy hockey but it is so fun to watch. They play two minutes shifts full of back and forth rushes and enough diving and falling and sliding and colliding to put their protective gear through the paces.

On this play Quinn broke free from the pack in his own end, carried it the length of the ice, and threw it at the net where his teammate grabbed the rebound and put it in the net. Quinn played hard and his team put a lot of pressure and tallied some goals against the other team's top line.

It was a fun first game. Quinn came off the ice happy and we congratulated him on his hard work on the ice. He claims his team won 9-8 but I'm not entirely sure that is true. Then again, he pays alot closer attention to details than I do so he might be right.

Seeking Inspiration

2012-01-07T13:16:00.000-05:00

Seeking Inspiration (Photo 7/365)

This year I'd like to improve my photography in both frequency and quality. So I've joined the 365 Project, a social network which hosts members who share a photo a day. I have been scoping out other photographers, following people and leaving comments.

I have a difficult time taking pictures during the week since I spend so much of my day at school. I get to school in the darkness, work, go to the gym, and then it is dark again when I come home. I thought this weekend would be easier as I could easily take some pictures in natural light.

I wanted to take some good bird pictures or something involving activity at my feeder as I've been getting consistent traffic. Unfortunately, the animals had other ideas. Juncos tend to scatter at the first hint of humans, the sparrows yielded nothing interesting and the hawk that landed in our maple tree evaded my attempt to focus the camera leaving me with a picture of a slightly blurry hawk that blends into the tree branches.

As the afternoon closed I looked at my camera hanging near the window and said, well, that's kind of apropos.

Feeder

2012-01-06T21:30:00.003-05:00

Feeder (Photo 6/365)

The barren trees and bleak sky belie the nature of this winter day. Today was fifty and sunny which is obviously uncharacteristic for a January day in Buffalo. Squirrels have tipped this feeder repeatedly dumping the seeds onto the concrete where the juncos and cardinals pick through the leftovers. The squirrels have also done a number on the log peanut butter feeder I made this week. Their weight ripped the log from the hooks I screwed into the top of the log and this afternoon I found that feeder lying in the garden. Is this just an inhalation before the northern winds let loose their fury? Only time will tell.

Out With the Old

2012-01-05T20:39:00.001-05:00

"Out With the Old" (Photo 5/365)

Tomorrow we get get rid of our trusty old couch. We bought the olive colored behemoth along with a matching love seat over twelve years ago and it has been in the midst of our lives ever since. I sat on that couch while getting dressed for my wedding day, I sat on that couch during early morning feedings for both of my sons when they were infants and sat at the edge of that couch for twelve years while my wife sprawled out watching TV. We've drooled on, spilled on, studied on, cuddled on, napped on, read on, played on, jumped on, climbed on, built on and ricocheted off of that couch. I know we must eventually let go of the things in our lives, but such a prominent place deserves passing mention and reflection. Old friend, may you find better butts to warm and may those keisters find the familiar grooves that we've worn.

Wiggler

2012-01-04T19:16:00.003-05:00

Loose Tooth (Photo 4/365)

We have a wiggler over here. Q's tooth is loose in its socket and we are very close to taking action. Pull it? String around a door knob? Grab hold and give it a yank?

I'm not sure I can do it -- too skeevy. Better men are made of sterner stuff I guess.

How Six Year Olds Tweet

2012-01-03T17:36:00.001-05:00

"Time Warner Stinks" (Photo 3/365)

My son made this sign to protest day three of the lockout of the MSG sports network by Time Warner, our cable provider. Tonight we will miss the Edmonton Oilers/Buffalo Sabres game. Shannon and I have been in discussions about what to do about the situation. Do we cancel cable and move to Verizon or wait out the stalemate? We've watched almost every Sabres game this year. I'm not quite sure we could survive deep into the winter months without Sabres hockey.

Christmas Cards

2012-01-02T14:55:00.000-05:00

Christmas Cards (Photo 2/365)

We're big fans of Christmas Cards over here at Cazenovia Creek. We hang the Christmas Tree shaped display on the dining room wall the day after Thanksgiving and wait for the pictures of kids and pets and letters to roll in. The first few cards bring the inevitable guilt that our own cards are still sitting on the counter waiting to be stuffed into envelopes and addressed. But, my mid December our cards have shipped and so many others have arrived in the mail that it is impossible to see the wall. Family morphs into family. Babies mix in with toddlers and teenage kids. There are casual pictures, professional photos, and snapshots from trips and other life events.

The kids look a little older than the year before and these cards are a reminder that time passes and we all grow older. For the brief holiday season snapshots of the lives of friends far and near descend into our lives -- glimpses and hints of lives of friends and families who we don't get to see often enough.

This afternoon, while the NHL winter classic plays in the background, we'll take down our Christmas Tree. The ornaments will go into tiny boxes, reindeer and snowmen will be stuffed into totes and we'll take down each card and place them in a neat pile. Over the next few days I'll scan each card and add them to the Christmas card slideshow we play during the holidays. Tonight I'll climb up the ladder in the garage and stow the metal display on top of the Christmas totes where it will sit, gather dust, and wait patiently to be brought out again next year to again mark the passage of time, the growing of inches, and the celebration of the lives of friends and family.

New Year's Morning

2012-01-01T08:00:00.000-05:00

New Year's Morning (Photo 1/365)

I rolled out of bed this morning around 9:30. The kids slept in as we had them up past midnight to join in the celebration of the changing of the new year. I walked Cohen downstairs, straightened up a bit and then took a brief trip outside with my camera. It is hard to believe that it is January 1st and it is sunny and in the high forties. Though the winter musters its strength, the morning feels optimistic. With this sense of optimism that a sunny January morning can bring, here are my goals for 2012.

Get more fit. Drop this extra 15 I'm carrying. Calorie tracking, daily exercise and weighing my food. Time to resume being thoughtful about my consumption. When I lost 55 pounds two years ago I grew over confident and thought I could eat anything I wanted if I exercised.

Run more. Run frequently. Do the Shamrock Run and Turkey Trot as usual. St. John Vianney 5k, Southtowns Fitness 5k and the Finn McCool again. This year I'd like to throw in a new 5k or three (including the Crabapple in Cheektowaga). Run in nature. I want to try more trail running this year. I took Quinn up to Chestnut Ridge this past summer to see Gaslit Falls and saw all sorts of running trails. My goal is to work trail running into my routine and do at least one off road race this year. My biggest goal, however, is to complete a full marathon. Last year I completed the half marathon in 2:12 minutes. This year I'm going for the whole enchilada. I've been exercising regularly all year and I feel like now is the time to take this challenge.

Read less. But read more. Last year I finished 47 books. I'm okay with that. It felt like a lot. This year I'm going to tackle less titles but add more quality and depth. This year I plan to read Moby Dick. Someone once said that you shouldn't read Moby Dick until you were thirty hears old. I'm well past and it's about time to hit it. I'd also like to knock off Camus The Stranger and Kerouac's The Dharma Bums. If I get truly inspired, I may try to tackle some Dickens. Tale of Two Cities maybe?

Make more. Write more. Take more pictures. Make stuff with my hands. I want to write a few short stories. Brew some beer. Build a bird house and a ground feeder. Lastly, I'm starting the year with a goal to do the Photo 365 project. My plan is to take and post a new picture a day on this site. I'd like to branch out and also take 2-3 seconds of good video every day and weave it into a film at the end of the year.

Yell not at all. This year's official campaign is "No Yell in two thousand twelve." I think I'm going to make signs and put them in my front yard. As I've stated before, I raise my voice. It's something I've always done and something I've been trying to distance myself from for years. I'm not a screaming lunatic, but when shit goes down I often let out a short verbal outburst of considerable intensity. The bad thing about yelling, in my opinion, is that it is lazy. It is the use of intimidation to produce a desirable effect. I can't help but think that reason coupled with consequences would be a far more effective way to produce the same effects without my looking like an idiot. So in 2012 the choice for me is scream free.

There you go. Those are my measurable, attainable, and hopefully reasonable goals for 2012. May we all have a happy, healthy, and fulfilling 2012.

My Favorite New Things (Part I)

2011-12-31T09:35:00.001-05:00

I'm getting sick and tired of my bananas getting brown and mushy and bruised from laying on top of my refrigerator. So I asked Santa to bring me a banana hanger. I love it but every time I think about it I giggle. Ha ha, banana hanger.

You Wrap This Present for Me?

2011-12-29T11:07:00.000-05:00

Christmas 2011

2011-12-28T11:06:00.004-05:00

Reflecting on Last Year's New Year's Resolutions

2011-12-27T10:02:00.000-05:00

Last year, as in most years, I sat down around the first of the year and set some goals for the coming year. As I start to develop next year's list of resolutions, I also want to revisit last year's in order to gauge personal progress.

5. Last year I was hovering around 215 pounds and set a goal to get in better shape and drop back down to 200. One year later, I have the same goal. I have been hovering between 209-215 the entire year. Because this year I am again resolving to hit 200 pounds, last year's goal is a partial fail. I say partial because even though my weight is the same I've been going to the gym 4-5 times a week for the entire year and have seen a immense shift in the way my body looks and feels.

4. Last year I also resolved to run more and to finish the Buffalo Half Marathon. Mission accomplished. I finished the half marathon in May in a little over two hours. Success.

3. Last year I also resolved to read more. I read 47 books last year and this year intended to reach 60 with a few classics mixed in. After I finish Art of Fielding I'll have finished 49 this year. I also mixed in a few classics, finishing The Great Gatsby, JD Salinger's Franny and Zooey, Jumpa Lahiri's The Namesake and Jane Austen's Emma for the first time. So, partial success. I blame my partial failure on The Walking Dead, The League, and Mad Men, three shows whose entire series I Netflixed this year. I'm convinced that watching entire seasons and series straight through, a couple episodes a night, is the only way to watch TV, but unfortunately it cuts into reading time. I'm currently midway through the first season of Sons of Anarchy. Good stuff.

2. Last year I also resolved -- again -- to be more patient. Imma gonna keep working on that one.

1. Lastly, in 2011 I set a goal to increase my frequency of social hugs. I carried this with me throughout the entire year to every social events and was more open and even sought out the social hug. Almost a total success.

I try to take the New Years resolutions and goal setting seriously. Over the next few days I'll be fine tuning my list for 2012. Hopefully, I'll make further gains so there are no repeats on next year's list.

Bethany Beach Highlight Video 2011

2011-12-24T15:57:00.001-05:00

Many months ago we headed down to Bethany Beach, DE for vacation. I finished up the highlight video last week. Enjoy!

Awkward Conversation with My Six Year Old While Playing Words With Friends

2011-12-22T08:31:00.000-05:00

"Ooo, she's sexy."

I looked up from my iPad, screeching to a halt in the midst of looking for my next game of the popular online Scrabblesque game, Words With Fiends. When I play, Quinn is usually my iPad shoulder companion.

"What did you say?"

I looked up at him, sitting on the armchair of the couch. The recent pop hit "Sexy and You Know It" has been all over the airwaves lately (though not in my car). This is surely the result.
A smile crept across his face. He pointed at the thumbnail image of a person I play from time to time. He had asked about the word "sexy" last week and advised us that he was told it was inappropriate to say. We guessed that someone had been saying it at school -- probably him, and had received a stern talking to about it. Obviously he was still testing the waters.

"What does that mean buddy?"

"It means I like her face."

My eyes left the eyes of my six year old and went back to the thumbnail. "Well, why?"

"I like how her hair is on her face." He framed his face with his hands like a fashion photographer. "See. Sexy."

"Pretty, buddy. Or beautiful. Sexy isn't nice because it is a derogatory term."

"What's derogatory?"

"Ummm." What to say? "It just means bad bud. Pretty or beautiful."

"Well, that girl is beautiful."

What I Want for Christmas

2011-12-21T08:40:00.000-05:00

Dear Santa,

If it pleases your worship, I'd like the following for Christmas:

for rugged Sabres winger Zach Kassian to play tougher more consistently
for my kids to answer a question the first time I asked
to one day sleep in past 10 am and not feel guilty
a playoff contending football team in 2012
a playoff contending fantasy football team in 2012
a lengthy walk in a new place
a consistently good neighborhood pizzeria with decent prices
a system for making sense of stuff
the ability to grow a good beard - somewhere between George Michael and Ryan Fitzpatrick
abdominal muscles like Rob Gronkowski

Christmas in Full Swing

2011-12-20T12:16:00.001-05:00

We are in full out Christmas mode here at the homestead.

Christmas lights? Check!

Tree? Check!

Elf on a Shelf being forced into odd places in a desperate attempt at seasonal variety in order to retain the perception of realness? Oh yeah!

Holiday party? Been there! Done that!

Shopping? Pretty much done!

Disavowing recommended caloric intakes in the name of Holiday gluttony? Oh hell's yeah.

Bring on Santa and those mother flipping reindeer.

Writing is an Act of Rebellion

2011-12-11T08:30:00.001-05:00

Get 'Em While They're Young

2011-12-10T11:24:00.001-05:00

December Trail Run

2011-12-08T20:11:00.001-05:00

I'm currently reading Born to Run, an exploration of barefoot running, ultramarathons, and the Tarahumara tribe of long distance runners who inhabit the Copper Canyon area of Mexico. I'm finding the tales of people who run 100 mile races through some of the toughest places on earth fascinating. I'm about done with it and just moved past a lengthy section that makes the argument that most running injuries result from the very thing meant to prevent them: running shoes. Experts interviewed argue that people would be much better off running barefoot or in more minimalist sneakers without all the modern foam and technology between the heel and the ground. It makes me feel really good about the worn out pair of Vibram Five Fingers I have in the garage. About my Zigtech's? Not so much.

Today I didn't have time to go the gym after work so I instead opted to take a run. Inspired about by tales of free running through tight trails in hot canyons, I decided to through on my barefoot sneakers and do some exploring. I made my way down to Mill Road Park and weaved my way through the trails running adjacent to Cazenovia Creek.

Mill Road park stretches about two miles from Mill Road to Leydecker. In the past Quinn and I have walked about a half mile into the park to see the huge black cylinders sticking out of the creek which I believe have something to do with stopping huge trees from traveling downstream (though it may have to do with ice. What do I know?).

Today, I went all the way in. I picked my way through puddles and up hills and through brush into and out of the chilly creek as I made my way from trail to trail. Midway through my run I spooked a pair white tale deer who promptly sprung from the trail and bounded off into the brush. I think they startled me as much as I startled them. Though the temperature was in the mid 30's, it was a comfortable run. And, though the air was still save for the sound of rushing creek, I had the exhilaration of running through unfamiliar territory. I have seen coyotes in those woods before so I was relatively cautious as I made my way through the run.

Two miles later I reached Leydecker Road, found my way up a hill back to the street, turned around and ran three miles back home in wet, muddy barefoot shoes in the dying light. Aside from the Warrior Dash and a childhood spent running through fields, this was my first trail run. It was awesome. I didn't spend the run wishing I was done. I spent it picking out safe footfalls, plotting a course and anticipating what might be around the next fallen log or stretch of dead brush. They are calling for 9 inches of lake effect snow tonight so this will probably be my last outdoor running experience for awhile, but next spring and summer I can see this being routine. I can see this being a great alternative to spending all of my running time plodding along asphalt for long, boring stretches of similar houses. I may be no Tarahumara, but outdoors with little between me and the trail is where it is at.

Merry Christmas

2011-12-06T12:24:00.001-05:00

Shannon could not be convinced to use this as our Christmas card.

In the Stands

2011-12-04T22:14:00.001-05:00

Quinn went to his first Bills game this afternoon. We got the line on a batch of $20 tickets and Chris and I decided to take the boys. We picked up a pizza and did a little tailgating and then made our way up to the nosebleeds. It was absolutely gorgeous weather for a December day -- 56 and barely any wind. We watched the game in sweatshirts. Because the Bills have been basically eliminated the game was not a sellout and there were many open seats in our section. This was a good thing as we didn't have any drunken fans near us aside from a large group of louts five rows down.

Chris Johnson ran all over us and the Bills failed to score on a possible game winning drive in the dying moments. We made our way home without incident. All told, it was a pleasant afternoon.

The Second One is Always Easier

2011-11-22T16:01:00.001-05:00

They say the second one is always easier. I tend to believe them. Cohen started potty training way earlier than Quinn and thanks to the positive example of his brother, stickers as a reward, and grounding from using the iPad if there are any slip ups, our little man of two and change is almost completely potty trained.

What does this to you? No weird exclamatory photos of toddler droppings nearing his fourth birthday. This little guy is the "plunk plunk" champ.

On Anthems

2011-11-15T19:45:00.001-05:00

I have two boys who love watching hockey. These two boys also really love national anthems. I don't know what the attraction is but both of these kids can sing you the American and Canadian national anthems with about 75% accuracy (which is an arguably better percentage than most professionals who are invited to sing the songs at sporting events).

Cohen's favorite performer is Doug Allen, the follicly challenged crooner who regularly sings at Buffalo Sabres games. At the end of the "Star Spangled Banner," when Allen his holding onto that last note on the word "brave," he spins and points towards the camera. In perfect sync I watch as Cohen lifts his arm and does the same exact thing.

Autumn is Slipping By

2011-11-06T08:00:00.000-05:00

Been walking outside the past couple of mornings to frost on the grass and a clear, dark sky dotted with countless stars. It is hard to believe that autumn is slipping away and that winter is knocking at our door. Shannon tried to convince me yesterday that this weekend would be a perfect time to put up Christmas lights and I pulled the snowblower and the shovels out of the shed last weekend. I'm not sure I'm ready for shoveling and rock salt and the Christmas slam much less the long dreary days of February.

Weekend Mornings on Ice

2011-11-05T14:16:00.002-04:00

We are moving more and more towards being a hockey family. Every Wednesday night we go over to the YMCA so Quinn can play floor hockey with his 6-12 year old age group. And every Saturday and Sunday we get him dressed in his shoulder pads, hockey pants, and leggins, drive down to the town ice rink and let him loose for some organized hockey. He is at the youngest level and loves it so far. The past few weeks the fifty or so little boys are split into groups of ten and sent around to different stations. Kids jump over blue lines, skate around pilons, evade hockey gloves that the coaches toss in their way, and do some other fundamental stickhandling work. It's cool to see the rudimentary way they build the players skills. In a few weeks kids will be split up into teams and eventually there will be full fledged scrimmages. In the meantime, we'll continue to get up early, rush to get breakfast and coffee ready and try to get out the door before the frost thaws.

You Were Getting Crushed by Me in Words With Friends,

2011-11-03T17:24:00.000-04:00

and you reassured yourself, "yeah, but he's an English teacher." Well, now the truth comes out. BAM!

Ready to Plunder

2011-11-01T18:11:00.000-04:00

The Butt End

2011-10-31T19:18:00.001-04:00

"Here! Dad! Pass!"
I stickhandled with my too short stick, a black Titan that once belonged to Donald Audette, a diminutive forward who played for the Buffalo Sabres in the late 90's. I waited for Quinn to get in front of the net and sent a pass across the patio and into the cool autumn air. With a continuous motion Quinn reared back and stuffed an easy one timer past the fabric goaltender and into the mesh.
"He SCOOOOORRRRRRREEEEEEEESSSSS!" I shouted, arms raised in the air as I spun a quick victory circle. I turned around to find Quinn, quite calm, hand on hip.
"Dad, could you stop saying that? It's really lame."
"Saying what?"
"He scooooooooorrrrreeeessssss," he groaned.
"How is that lame?"
"It's so lame."
"But, it's Rick Jeanarrette. You know. He SCOOOOOOOORRRRRREEEEEESSSSS!" I repeated. Surely he must realize.
"Yeah, it's lame."
"Well, what does that even mean?"
"It's just old, Dad. It's like an 80 year old's birthday."
I'm still not sure what I could have responded to that. What else was there to say when a goal was scored? I have been repeating that phrase in that voice since Gilbert Perreault roamed the ice at War Memorial Auditorium. So I did what any self respecting Dad would do. I gave him the butt end of the stick in the shoulder.
"Ouch. What was that for?"
"Just pass the ball."

Dawnfrosting

2011-10-30T13:55:00.000-04:00

I stepped out and inhaled the stinging dawn air. The morning was frosted; the night had left a crystal icing on the world. I went back inside and grabbed a camera. My sneakers left prints on the frozen grass as I crunched around, framing each frozen leaf, the windshield's crystalline spiderwebs, the miniature icicles clinging to each suspended spikelet, the gasping minivan next door, and the sparrows huddled in the frozen hedges steeling against the approaching winter.

A leaf falls...

2011-10-29T17:38:00.001-04:00

On Sharing Stories That Belong Solely to You

2011-10-29T12:49:00.002-04:00

Last weekend I shared a story that in hindsight, probably wasn't right for this space. It was the story of some unfortunate things we did as kids. After posting, I was quickly reminded that some stories aren't solely mine to share and that some stories have power that once released, have unintended consequences. So, for the first time, I took a post down. My apologies.

Why I Write

2011-10-20T08:20:00.002-04:00

So, today is the National Day on Writing. Writers are being asked to address the prompt "Why I Write" and then share their ideas on Twitter or their blogs. This is a NWP/Figment/Edutopia/New York Times Learning Network initiative. You can find out more here.

So, today I am thinking about why I write. I'll be updating this post throughout the day.

_____________________________

I write because this morning on the way into work I was nodding off at a red light so I opened my window and poked my head out and the mixture of smells -- autumn rain, idling engines, and red onion scent lingering from making my lunch -- was invigorating and I don’t think I ever quite felt just that way and I need to tell someone before it goes away.
I write because 140 characters is never enough. Well, except for when it is.
I write because I teach writing and must walk that walk in order to talk that talk.
I write because I can revisit and proofread and right (or write) that which is ~~wrogn~~ wrong.
I write because in 10th grade I was caught leaving school and my assistant principal assigned me to write a letter informing my parents about what happened. I wrote the letter. It made him laugh and he encouraged me to keep writing stories. I still do.
I write because someday I will leave this Earth and truthfully so will the bits and bytes of my digital world but at least I made the attempt to sift through the daily ether to make sense of it all.
I write because I love my children and wife and because, well, I have a crappy memory.
I write to let go. I write to hold on. I write to document. I write to spin. I write to twist. I write to straighten.

Joe Ferguson and Little White Lies

2011-10-06T20:46:00.001-04:00

In the early 80's my father, my uncles and I sat down with my grandfather at my grandparent's house on Turner Street to watch a Buffalo Bills game*. I don't remember the particular details, but I remember sitting around the TV in his wood paneled living room and the Bills, as usual, were losing or close to losing. On one particular play, quarterback Joe Ferguson threw a pass which was caught by a receiver but it was ruled incomplete. This was before instant replay and it was clear that, as usual, the Bills were being jobbed. I was only five or six so I broke out into hysterics. I cried and ranted and raved until one of my uncles grabbed the telephone in the kitchen and assured me that he was calling the referee on the telephone to have them reconsider the call.

It's funny how these memories stick with you. That was thirty years ago.

Tonight Shannon and I were watching TV after we put the kids to bed. Midway through our DVR'd Up All Night I heard a clunk on the floor and little footfalls. Soon a commercial came on so I went upstairs to investigate and I found Quinn's room empty and the bathroom door locked.

"Quinn," I whispered, lightly pounding on the door.
....
"Quinn."
....
"Quinn...unlock this door."
....
"QUINN! UNLOCK. This. Door."

The door opened slowly and Quinn peeked out, pant legs hiked above his thighs and tears streaming from his face. "What's the matter?"

"Dad...could we change my birthday to be during the school year?"

It always takes me a minute to process statements like this. It's like opening up the garage door in the morning to find out your lawn has turned purple. I had a choice. Reason. Or lies.

"Ummm...sure buddy. I'll see what I can do tomorrow. I have to call the Birthday office in the government and I don't think they open until nine."

"Thanks Dad. October 15th would be a good choice."

"Okay buddy."

__________________________________
I am pretty sure that we played the Detroit Lions which would place that game in 1979, but I can't be sure.

One Down. Nineteen to Go.

2011-10-03T20:18:00.000-04:00

Quinn came bursting off the bus today because his tooth finally came out. It has been loose for a couple of weeks and he and Shannon have been gauging its progress at least once every waking hour of every day. It's been a trending topic.

Shannon asked him how it happened and I asked him to repeat the story when I got home.

"Dad, look at my tooth," he beamed.
"Awesome buddy. Now where is it."
"I think I swallowed it. Or it rolled under the seat on the bus."
"How did it come out?"
"I hung my book bag from my tooth."
"You. Did. What?"
"I hung my book bag from my tooth. And guess what," he said proudly. "Aidan's loose tooth didn't even come out when he did it and his was way more wiggly than mine."

Ah, to be a proud parent. I see a future of Jackass auditions and faux leather dental chairs.

Shake the Roof of this House

2011-10-02T15:04:00.001-04:00

Paul and I made a last minute decision to head down to the Town Ballroom last night to catch Thao and the Get Down Stay Down and The Head and the Heart. We debated going to this show or to Okkervil River last week in Rochester, decided on the former, wavered when it got close but ultimately decided to go about an hour before the doors opened.

I've liked Thao for awhile. "Bag of Hammers" is a peppy song that's been in my regular rotation for a couple of years and I really like their last CD as well (she leads off her NPW Tiny Desk Concert with this song). I listened the The Head and the Heart a couple of times since I found out they were coming to town but they kind of blended in with the other folky stuff I sometimes listen to. Couple of good tunes but nothing unique enough for repeat listens.

Thao definitely brought her energy and unique sound. Her sound is awesome -- fun and light and playful and inventive and perfect for a long run or to dance to while putting away dishes (When We Swam is another song that gets the keister moving). When I originally planned on going I thought she was headlining and I was a bit disappointed to discover otherwise. Her set was solid even though the crowd was sparse. Definitely made it worth to venture out on this chilly October night.

I didn't have much in the way of expectations for The Head and the Heart. Folky groups are hard to gauge. Some bands, like AA Bondy at Thursday at the Square two summers ago, just kind of stand there and even though they sound good they bore the pants off you. On other occasions the bands are so good live they make me go back and revisit their CD's -- Blitzen Trapper at the 9:30 Club comes to mind. Head and the Heart fall into this category. I was impressed with not only their energy but with their use of three lead vocalists. Charity Thielen, their violinist and female vocalist has such a beautiful voice. I was really impressed with Rivers and Roads and Down in the Valley. As I went in expecting nothing I was wowed by their performance -- they won themselves a fan and I've been playing their CD all morning.

All in all, a great night. Got out of the house, caught a couple of good bands and walked away with a couple songs that really resonate. Can't ask for much more.

Oxford Commas and Public Humiliation

2011-09-27T21:39:00.003-04:00

In first grade I had the meanest teacher in the world. Her name was Mrs. S-----t, she taught at Bellwood Elementary and she was downright nasty. She once made a kid named Christopher crawl on the floor for an entire afternoon after she caught him underneath his desk. We watched as he crawled the length of the floor for three hours in his stiff dark blue dungarees.

One midwinter day I found myself in Mrs. Sinnott’s cross hairs. I’m not sure what I did as my memory is failing me. Maybe she thought I talked back or was fooling around. My only recollection of operating outside acceptable behavior in my first grade class was my failure in painting pumpkins as “modern art,” having a runny nose one day and being forced to use my sleeve to dispose of the runny boogers and a day of playing a game called “Tickle Invaders” with my friend Eric.

But I don’t remember what I did that day. I do remember that whatever I was guilty of landed me in the corner of the classroom facing the wall. Mrs. Sinnot made me stand there early in the morning and forced me to stay there the entire day. I stood against the wall trying to stifle tears until the dismissal bell. She wouldn’t even let me go to gym or lunch.

Today my students read Sandra Cisnero’s short story “Eleven,” a tale about an eleven year old girl being publicly shamed by an uncaring teacher over a random red sweater found in the coat room. I asked my students to pick an important line from the story and respond and we spent the rest of the class talking about embarrassing or shameful moments from our lives. Their stories were filled with tales of public shaming by teachers--big and small moments they’ve carried with them throughout their childhood and adolescence.

The legacy Mrs. S-----t left in my life can be reduced to that public humiliation and my stubborn adherence to the Oxford comma. I think this is important to remember -- as a teacher, and as a parent -- young minds are impressionable and our actions are remembered. Words leave marks and we should be careful to be considerate and thoughtful in our actions.

Hoarder Junior Junior

2011-09-25T22:52:00.001-04:00

Two months ago Cohen learned how to climb out of his crib. He did it for a week or so and then inexplicably stopped. We talked about converting his crib but as the behavior subsided we decided to wait and see. This week it reemerged. Now, not only can Cohen climb out of his crib, but he can climb back in as well.

I'll step out of the shower at 5:30 in the morning and find him waiting at the door. Shannon and i will trade nighttime trips upstairs to investigate bed time footsteps. Today, minutes after the Bills scored the go ahead touchdown against the Patriots Coh came strolling down with his blanket to see what the fuss was all about.

He also has this weird habit of getting out of the crib, collecting all of his belongings, and hopping back into the crib. Today I found him asleep with every stuffed animal he and Quinn own, five blankets, a snuggy, an unopened car set from Christmas, four books, and a coin bank. He was asleep atop his hoard, snoring like a miniature dragon protecting his riches.

One of these days well break down the crib signaling the end of an era. Gone will be the easy nights of clicking play on the CD, rocking, setting and forgetting. Bed times will be a bit more negotiated --- and a bit more difficult.

Partly Cloudy is Mostly Sunny

2011-09-18T20:43:00.003-04:00

"Those were the salad days, the halcyon years! The sleepless nights, the wailing babies; the days the interior of the house looked like it had been hit by a hurricane....even when the fourth glass of milk got spilled in a single night, or the shrill screeching threatened to split my skull...they were good years, grand years." - Water for Elephants, Sara Gruen

Lately, my camera has been hanging on its hook more often than not. I've been sitting down at the computer to write less and less. It's been overwhelming at times watching these two boys tear through the house like toy tossing crumb dropping tornadoes. It's not only hard to find time and balance but its been difficult to find the perspective to observe and reflect and ultimately write. When you've just spent the last thirty minutes trying to convince two boys to stay at the dinner table and eat you're not really in a writerly mood.

Still, when I read the above passage while finishing Water for Elephants this weekend it gave me pause. I think that often I get swept up in the current and struggle to notice the all of the good stuff going on around me. In Elephants the main character is ninety years old and telling the tale from a nursing home -- lonely, pretty much abandoned by his elderly children and his grandchildren but in full possession of his memories. I enjoyed the book (despite it’s striking similarity to Titanic -- I think the only difference was more elephant and less drowning) and was left with one resounding thought: what if this is as good as it gets?

I asked Quinn to take a run with me yesterday afternoon while Cohen napped. He chose to ride his bike instead. I let him wear my GPS watch and he was the timekeeper/mile updater. He rode alongside of me while I ran. We made our way slowly in and around the neighborhoods near our house. He wanted to stop every minute or so to see how far we had gone but once he got used to hit he figured out how to look at the watch while pedaling. The company was nice. We made it a hair over six miles in no small part because of our small talk.

Cohen is growing so verbal. Every day he’s able to say more and more. One of his current catch phrases is super cute. I guess we must not grant his requests enough because whenever we deny him something he pauses, raises his eyebrows optimistically and asks, “After?” Sometimes he’ll change it up and ask “In a minute?” or “Later?”

Its been a busy summer. Two vacations. Lots of long days filled with running around, lots of chest puffing defiance and pouting and lots of little exchanges I wish had gone better. But, there are also countless little halcyon moments -- tranquil contentment packed away in the waning summer light. It's important to remember that those are the moments to savor and focus on and that it is far better to bask in the bright sunlight than fret about the scattered clouds.

Finn McCool 4 Mile Odyssey

2011-09-13T22:16:00.003-04:00

Running is fun. You get out there by yourself, pop the iPod in, take off and focus within yourself. When you run a race it's a different experience. You're still alone, but you have markers to which you can compare yourself to. The other runners compel you to run faster and you get a finish line to give you an extra sense of accomplishment. Also, most races have good after parties. Up until this weekend, I thought that was enough.

Then, I ran in the Finn McCool 4 Mile Odyssey. The Finn McCool is new race featuring an obstacle course race around Cazenovia Park and Golf Course. Runners were sent out in waves every twenty minutes starting next to the softball diamond behind the club house. I arrived about an hour and a half before I was set to race and walked around the registration and racing area. It was pretty awesome. People were invited to dress up and they answered the call. There was a Popeye, a flag waving Uncle Sam, a squad of fatigue wearing Marines, and more kilts than I could count. I had on my Vibrams and some running shorts so I felt a tad underdressed.

Our wave was released around 11:15 and we started to make our way around the track. It was pretty awesome. There was wall climbing, a rope wall, a tire course, creek crossing. The highlight of the course, in my opinion, was a forty foot slip and slide down the tee for the 8th hole. It was awesome. I ran full speed and did a super belly flop down the hill. It may have been a highlight of my life. It was like a water slide without the anal lifeguards.

Overall, the only disappointment I had was that the obstacles weren't really challenging. They were more like things placed to break up the run. While running I constantly wondered what could be coming up next and it provided a nice distraction for the four miles.

At the end of the race there was a giant mud pit. Runners emerged from a final creek walk, up a slippery bank and into a screaming finish line crowd. Again, I saw the mud pit and knew that there was only one real option -- belly flop. I went in hard, tried to climb under a few straggling pieces of caution tape that hadn't been ripped down by the waves before me, and emerged from the other end covered in a mud that tasted vaguely like cow shit smells. I ended up finishing in just over 37 minutes, 11th in my age group. I'm not too disappointed in this time--it's five minutes off my usual race pace but there were significant backups at some of the obstacles and I never felt that I really pushed myself to run fast.

It was my first obstacle course run but definitely won't be my last. I grew up around Caz Park and lived right behind the golf course so it was a sort of homecoming. I knew every inch of those four miles as I spent 26 years walking those paths and playing in that creek. More than a few people have talked to me about local Warrior Dash's and I think that next year I'd like to try. I also spoke to a couple for awhile who were assuaging my concerns that a triathlon is overly difficult, so I am flirting with the idea of learning how to swim well this winter. As this wasn't overly challenging, I'd like to see what else is out there to see if I can challenge myself and have fun in the process.

The Gorilla and the Dove: A Wedding

2011-08-29T22:46:00.003-04:00

I need a breath of air! What a weekend. We arrived home on Friday night at around midnight and since then it has been wedding and family twentyfourseven. My brother Jon married his beautiful fiance Alyssa in front of oodles of friends and family. I had the honor of being the best man and since I spent a lot of time on it I'll share the speech after I share some pictures. Jon and Alyssa asked Quinn to be the ring bearer and he hasn't stopped talking about it since.

It was an absolutely beautiful ceremony at the Avanti Mansion in Hamburg. The vows were given on an island surrounded by a koi pond. Guests sat in tiered rows that were built into the hill. I can't say enough good things about it as it was one of the most picturesque places I've ever seen a ceremony. Food was great and the entire Malley/Bowers family made it into town. And Alyssa's family is absolutely wonderful.

I'll let the pictures tell the story.

And, here's the speech, in it's entirety:
Intro
(Welcome out of town guests and introduce myself.) I find it particularly fitting that I be able to share a few words with Alyssa and everyone else because I've known Jon longer than anyone else. I suppose my Mom could make an argument about that but tie goes to the man with two thumbs and the microphone.
This guy right here.
Gorilla and the Dove
If you took a close look at the shower or wedding invitations you’d notice that much of the wedding decor is designed around a theme based on art that Jon and Alyssa designed. A large gorilla stands at the ready with a pink dove perched upon its shoulder. The gorilla signifies strength while the dove symbolizes faith and hope. These are important qualities that provide the foundation of any relationship.
Pee Story
Still, I’ve known Jon for a long time and feel the need to explore his gorilla-ness for just a few minutes because I think it will yield some relevant insight that Alyssa might find useful. Alyssa, I was the first one to share a bed with Jon. When I was six and Jon was four we shared a twin bed. For those of you who remember Jon at that age you know that he had a bit of the devil in him.
I was young and naive and one night it only barely registered when I noticed Jon carrying a red Tupperware cup into the bathroom with him around bedtime. I slipped into bed and must have quickly fallen asleep.
I was jarred awake to a deluge of warm, salty fluid being poured over my face and into my mouth. Jon decided it would be neat to pee in a cup and, heck, where better to pour it than on my face. I'm 36 years old and I've slept with a pillow over my head ever since.
But, don’t feel sorry for me, because we soon graduated from a twin bed to bunk beds. I got top bunk and wet the bed until I was thirteen.
Insert sound effect.
But, I guess my advice is don't fall asleep first. (On a similar note you should try avoid sitting in front of him in the bath tub.)
Canoe Trip
Growing up we were both gorillas. And without doves, gorillas tend to try to use brute strength to deal with most issues. We pound our chests a lot. A few days ago I went kayaking on the Atlantic ocean. I was alone in the vast dark waters, struggling with paddling against the pre Hurricane Irene currents and I couldn’t help think of the last time I was in a boat. Jon and I were in our late teens and we were on a westward camping trip before our cousin’s wedding in Minnesota.
We were camping somewhere in Wisconsin and our parents gave us money to rent a canoe. We got out into the river and, truth be told, we really struggled. He would paddle one way and I would paddle another way, we got turned around. Every time he would steer the boat one way, my attempts to move forward would send us careening off course. We were at that point in our lives -- too gorillaesque and stubbornheaded to work out a solution. We pounded our chests a lot and he finally ordered me to stop paddling. He paddled the whole way home while I sulked in the back of the canoe.
Marriages and Canoe Trips
Marriages aren’t so different from canoe trips. Gorillas cannot make it on their own. We need our doves.
Rivers are infinitely long and surrounded by beauty on all sides. You’ve found each other, so you’ll never be alone in the vastness, too busy struggling with the swells and breakers that you miss the wonders. Rivers sometimes are calm and placid and in these times may the dove perch on the gorilla’s shoulder and gaze as he pushes through calm waters. But rivers are also sometimes turbulent, so may the dove use her wings and wisdom to carry the gorilla when the river gets rough. And may hope and faith be the strength behind your oars.
Final Toast
With that If I could ask everyone in the room to raise their glasses -- all the gorillas and the doves that love them -- let us toast to these two. May your days be filled with calm waters, yoga sessions, long walks beneath beautiful sunsets, a minivan full of beautiful babies and a lifetime of happiness together. We love you and are so, so happy for you.
Slainte.

Beach Musings - Part Three

2011-08-27T22:44:00.002-04:00

On Tuesday we had quite the shock, literally. I was in the water but several members of our group felt the beach move and shake underneath them. Several minutes later Anita's mom ran down to the beach to report that she had been jarred awake. We quickly found out that a earthquake hit nearby Virginia and it's effects were felt all the way to Buffalo, NY. Gotta say, that was a first for us.

* * * * * * * * * * *

"Dad."

I looked at my six year old son as we walked up the boardwalk down to the beach. Bits of seashells were visible in his scalp through his closely cropped hair. His swim shirt, matted with sand, hung loosely from his body.

"What's up Quinn?"

"Why do vacations go by so fast?"

"Ummmm." We were on the second last day of vacation and were in mid afternoon at that. Our vacation was quickly drawing to an end. "I noticed the same thing. It seems like when you're having fun, time goes really fast. And when you're not having fun, time goes a lot slower."

He seemed to take this in stride as we descended the sand walkway, beach opening up before us. "Well, then I think we should start to get a lot bored-er, because I want this trip to last forever.

"Me too dude. Me too."

* * * * * * * * * * *

A group of us got up early Thursday morning and walked down to the bike shop to rent kayaks. It was a beautiful morning. The pink sun rose quickly, cresting between two mammoth research ships on the horizon and became completely visible within five minutes. We walked down the road to a local bike shop to meet our guide at 6:45 am. Charlie, who could have easily passed for Chris O'Donnell, was an easy going kid of about twenty two. He led us down to the beach to our kayaks.

I rode in a single kayak. I'm not going to lie to you, it was a struggle. Mark and Anita were sent out first and by the time Charlie dragged me out they were about two hundred yards out into the ocean. It was an open bow kayak and I was in panic mode. My paddling skills are so poor I struggled to catch up to them. I found myself alone, bobbing on what amounted to a plastic plank, struggling with the oar and thinking the worst thoughts imaginable. I've had a palpable fear of sharks since reading David Kenyon Webster's Sharks: Myth or Maneater in eighth grade. Charlie had told Mark that last week a small shark swum right past his tour. I looked around me at the vast black waters surrounding grew really nervous. Unfortunately, there was nothing I could do but cowboy up and paddle.

Once Ana and the guide made it out we kayaked about a mile down the beach to the Sea Colony resorts. I was seated so far back in the kayak that my back and thighs grew sore quickly. It was like sitting half engaged in a toe touch stretch. Charlie recommended I remove my lifejacket, fold it, and prop it in the boat behind me. I quickly considered the inherent problems with removing my lifejacket but took his recommendation anyway. Once I wedged it behind me it became a little more comfortable.

Our first leg of the journey was against the current and my shoulders were killing me from all the paddling. On more than one occasion I considered saying the heck with it -- paddling to shore and dragging the kayak back to the shop seemed a better alternative. But, I soldiered on. Everyone else in the group seemed to be having a much better time than me and I didn't want to ruin it.

It was tough out there. With every small movement I felt like I was going to tip the boat over. Against the current, it felt like I was making no progress at all and moving ever further from shore. When we turned around and started working with the current the down it got a little better. The swelling waves would give you a little push but I still felt like I was going backwards on the down swell. I think it was mentally difficult because out in the water I had no frame of reference. On a river I can tell that I am going forward. In the vastness it just felt like I was bobbing around.

We ultimately made it back to camp after a little over an hour. At the tail end of the trip we kind of bobbed there for about ten minutes appreciating the rising sun and the movement of the water. I was proud that I'd made it but a little deflated that it had been so challenging. I had always thought that under the right circumstances I could be that guy -- the adventurer who takes early morning kayak jaunts and weekend hikes in the woods.

After pulling each of us into shore Charlie said that it was the roughest water he has ever taken a group out into. We walked up the beach to the store where he met his next group. He explained to them the water conditions and they agreed to cancel the tour.

Overall, it was a little discouraging. But, I'm glad I did it. We didn't see any dolphins (or sharks, thankfully) but I did get a taste of what it was like to cruise and bob around in the vast ocean. This fall I'm going to go down to the waterfront and give it another go in calmer waters. Mark, Ana, and Anita thoroughly enjoyed the experience so I'm sure next year I'm going to take another shot at it. Overall, the experience was was good. I went outside my comfort zone, tried something new, and learned a little bit about myself, even though I might not like what I learned.

* * * * * * * *

We spent the rest of the day at the beach Thursday. According to the lifeguards, we were getting an extension of the winds from Hurricane Irene. The waves and undertow were the strongest I've ever felt in all my years of ocean experience. Anita and I tried to boogey board but it was just impossible. The waves were huge and breaking further out than normal. It was very difficult to prepare for a wave while simultaneously struggling to keep from getting dragged down by the undertow.

We took a break. Rumors about Hurricane Irene and mandatory evacuations abounded and around two o'clock we were approached by a life guard with notices from the Bethany Beach town manager. Ocean City, MD was evacuating and it was strongly recommended that people evacuate the Delaware beaches by the following morning at the latest or risk getting stranded when they inevitably closed the bridges.

Mark and I later attempted to swim but that too was difficult. The waves toward over us and we'd get dragged twenty yards down the beach every time we tried to get to shore. I'm not going to lie, it was a blast, but I wasn't willing to risk giving myself permanently to the sea. Later, while standing on shore, we watched kids purposely sitting on the shore waiting for the surf to come up and drag them ten yards down the beach. I thought for sure I was going to see a kid get swept out to sea. We finally left the beach around three o'clock after one particularly big wave swept up the shore into our chairs and drowned two Ipods.

* * * * * * * * * *

It was weird being in the midst of the Irene hysteria. The long talks with the lifeguards. Rumors of bridge closings and mandatory evacuations. Worries of being caught in long lines of traffic. On Thursday night a storm rolled in from the west with thunder and lightning and threats of hail and all the kids were growing nervous as they had probably overheard us discussing plans regarding the hurricane. Some folks at the other house decided to leave that night to escape the traffic. We decided to stick it out until morning as we didn’t want to cut the vacation any shorter.

On Friday morning, we decided to leave around eleven. We didn’t have the car top carrier packed and I was getting anxious hauling stuff down and packing. Uncle Peter came over to tell us that lifeguards had kicked him off the beach. After I packed up the car Ana and I walked around to take pictures. We went onto the main strip and everyone was busy nailing plywood over the windows of all the Bethany landmarks. The Bethany Surf Shop. Thrashers fries. Rhodes 5 & 10. Boardwalk Fries. Surfs Up. It was sad. These are places I’ve gone to every year for the last fifteen years. They are part of me. I hope that everything, and everybody, stays safe.

We entered the boardwalk and were promptly asked to leave by the lifeguards. We felt that it was a pretty indication that it was time to leave so we walked back to the house. It was sad pulling away. Even though we dropped the keys off at the realtors like normal and handed in the slip to reserve the house for the same week next year, it felt impermanent. It felt like this stable space in our lives and our friendships was somehow less fixed and less permanent. It felt like with a little bad luck it could be washed back into the ocean like so much sand.

Beach Musings Part II

2011-08-23T10:27:00.000-04:00

Ana and I took a morning run on the beach today. The sky was overcast -- remnants of the light storms from the previous night. Fisherman lined the beach front for the full run. When men fish the surf they use long poles. They cast, walk back past where the surf is coming up on the beach and set their polls in PVC pipes sticking out of the sand. The line stretches from the pole to ten or fifteen yards out into the ocean. So, when you run along the surf you are constantly running past fisherman standing at their poles, their outstretched lines soaring above your head like outstretched hands.

* * * * * *

I don't know what happened this year, but suddenly everybody became an avid reader. I feel like in past years it was monitoring kids and playing with kids from sun up to sun down. But, now that most of the kids are in the mid to late single digits, they are by and large self sufficient and seem overly satisfied playing with each other and beyond the watchful gaze of their parents. We have seven kids in our house and when combined with the Dirr house three doors down there are twelve kids boogey boarding, building sand castles, playing catch and jumping around in the surf.

Today I was standing on the beach looking at the water and when I turned around every adult was busy whiling away the day with a book. When did that happen?

* * * * ** * *

High drama on the beach today. I left to go back to the house to put Cohen down for a nap. Apparently, while I was gone, Kyra was minding her own business when a teenager came in from nowhere chasing a football and crushed her. The party described it as a deep, resonant thud. Shannon picked her up out of the sand and the lifeguards came over and examined her. She bruised immediately and the lifeguards recommended she visit the local emergency room. A couple of X-rays determined that Kyra had a broken clavicle. We saw her later that evening on the boardwalk -- she has her arm in a sling but is generally in good spirits.

Later that day, Aunt Dee Dee ran up from the beach in a panic because Logan, Kyra's older brother, had gone missing. We ran around the beach looking for him frantically but he was nowhere to be found. Luckily, he turned up back at the house. Apparently he had followed Max and Alex back to the house, got separated, but figured out the way home. Phew.

* * * * * * * *

Last night we went ghost crabbing. Ghost crabbing consists of a gaggle of kids armed with flashlights and butterfly nets tearing down the beach in the dark chasing down small nocturnal crabs. The kids love it. The crabs, not so much.

We caught twelve crabs total. Teag caught the majority but he was nice enough to help the younger kids catch a few too. It's a great pre bed activity. It tires the kids out and ensures that we get an early start on adult time.

Beach Musings Part One

2011-08-21T15:26:00.000-04:00

We arrived at the beach at around nine in the morning after an overnight drive. We made great time again this year, stopping three times (car carrier flapping twice and gas once) and arriving in a hair over eight and a half hours. We were excited when we pulled up because the house looked empty. We called the realtor, parked our car in the driveway and headed down to the beach after being told we'd be called when the house was cleaned and ready to go.

It sounded like we'd get in early. Unfortunately, the cleaning crew got stuck next door cleaning up after unruly renters next door. We didn't get into the house until 2:30.

* * * * * *

Much of this trip is about the familiar, but yesterday we saw a dolphin show of such grandiose proportions that it felt almost entirely knew. Every year we are treated to dolphins swimming by. But this year there were at least fifty dolphins swimming about seventy five yards off shore. They lingered in our area and then started doing acrobatic leaps out of the water. Masses of people rose out of the beach chairs and stood on the shore watching the show, some even cheering and clapping at every leap. It was an awesome display.

* * * * * *

the view from the third floor dining room

We've been eyeing up this beach house for five years. It is absolutely gorgeous and is one house away from the boardwalk. Three floors with a crow's nest on the fourth floor roof. Floor to ceiling windows in the open third floor. I need only turn to my left as I write this to look past the boardwalk and sea grass to the ocean. Last night we sat out in the crow's nest, turned off the lights and sat beneath the stars. As there are few street lights the sky is clearer than back home and the universe looks vast yetcrowded.

* * * * * * *

I took a barefoot fun on the beach this morning. I headed north with the wind for the first leg and outran the throngs of umbrellas and tents and families setting up for the day. I made it past the water tower which looms about two miles down the beach, running through the retreating surf before turning around. There was a huge sea bird circling over the water but I couldn't quite catch up to it as it was soaring with the wind stream. It looked like a hawk or eagle. I thought I saw eagle perches on the bay side on the drive down. The headwind was stiff on the run back but overall the run was blissful. You can't beat walking out of the house shirtless and shoeless taking a four mile run on the wet sand, surf splashing your feet and the lower leg of your shorts.

* * * * * * *

I love to walk barefoot at the beach. I love exiting the house and picking my way across the sharp driveway stones then gingerly crossing the stone filled hot asphalt. The wood on the boardwalk is abrasive and hot and sandy and the first stretch of beach feels like walking on the surface of the sun. Only when you reach the waters edge does the walk become comfortable. Nevertheless, it's loose and free and unencumbered and I enjoy examining the cracks and fissures in my heels afterwards. I could definitely see myself retiring in such a place. Get a single story dumpy place on one of the side streets, grow a lush garden, walk to the farmer's market on Sunday mornings. It doesn't sound so bad.

Thar Be Strange Critters

2011-08-15T09:40:00.000-04:00

We had some rain the past two days. Whenever it rains the stream brings gifts as it works its way down to Cazenovia Creek. Yesterday the boys and I were out in the back throwing rocks in the water and I decided to take a walk down to the other side of the yard. I discovered a soggy baseball and down the stream a house or two was a huge purple pool float. Go figure.

I also came upon a crayfish eating the carcass of another crayfish. In all the years of living here I've never seen a crayfish back there.

But, the most interesting (and disgusting) find was this little guy, who, unfortunately for him, was floating at the bottom of the creek being nibbled on by minnows. I'd like to say it's a rat, but the the fur makes it look like a baby and I don't think rat babies are that big. Some Facebook friends think it's a stillborn puppy but those back paws don't look like dog paws. The only other mammals around are possum, raccoons, groundhogs, moles, foxes, and shrews.

I guess we'll never know. (But, according to the minnows, it tastes like chicken.)

The Boating Itch

2011-08-13T10:51:00.002-04:00

Ever since I took the boys down to the Central Wharf on the Buffalo Inner Harbor I've had the boat itch. I walked around looking at the happy kayakers and the shirtless Dads with their zinc nosed children cruising the placid waters Inner Harbor and said to myself, "why am I not doing that?" I mean, the biggest navigable freshwater system sits a mere ten minutes from my house and the most I can do is walk on the shore and look -- maybe dip my toes in the water.

As of right now, I don't know what kind of itch I have. I'd love to simply start kayaking. Nothing between the water but a paddle and the soon to be rippling muscles in my shoulders and forearms (this is a projection based on future anticipated kayaking -- not the present truth). Unfortunately, I don't have a kayak nor a roof rack. I don't even have rope or bungee cord.

Sailing looks really fun too. Can you imagine? Waves pouring over the deck as I hang from some boat part trying to tie an intricate knot while my family laughs atop the deck clad in pinpoint oxford shirts and sweaters tied around their necks. That would be awesome. But, I've always been poor comprehending boating terms and who knows how one gets started sailing. I've never read Moby Dick. I also think I'm projecting a New England fantasy onto Lake Erie. I don't know if Lake Erie has wind.

There's also the One Crazy Summer fantasy. Buy an old boat. Sit in my driveway, sand and wax the wooden hull. Get big knuckles. Buy a captain's hat. Go on lazy missions down the river as the boat's engine struggles, spews out a puff of black smoke, then faithfully chugs down the waterway. Get a tackle box. I'd giver her a name that started with Ol'. Like, Ol' Faithful or Ol' Lady. I don't know, I'm spitballing here.

It's probably important to mention that I don't have a fiscal pot to piss in at this time so I won't be buying anything anytime soon. I think I may be going through an early mid-life crisis because I've also had Griswaldian pool fantasies lately and made entreaties to the wife about looking into buying a pop up camper. A man can dream.

Uncle Shawn and Aunt Kathy took Quinn and I out on the boat last night and it did nothing to quell my itch. It was awesome. We met them over in Tonawanda. We pulled away from the dock, entered the Niagara River and made our way around Grand Island as the sun set. The ride was a bit bumpy once we left the no wake zone but settled after we started working our way with the current. It was so peaceful. The sky settled into hues of pink and purple as tiny birds darted and swooped along the water. We watched the sun set over Niagara Falls and made our way back to Tonawanda in the dusk. Quinn loved it. He sat in the open bow with his cousins (wearing a pink life preserver that belonged to Shannon when she was a kid) and smiled like he was king of the world. I think he felt even bigger when he was able to pee off the side of the boat as we pulled into the marina.

Man, I'd love a boat. I sat on the back -- the world droned out by the motor -- and watched my son and nephews entranced by the movement. There's something to it -- something deep. Atop the swift stillness, speeding quickly but seemingly not at all, purring along on waters that have been moving for thousands of years. It's hard not to want to be a part of that.

Ahoy! Thar Be a Party!

2011-08-08T09:42:00.003-04:00

On Saturday we held Quinn's sixth backyard birthday party. This year we did a pirates theme as both the boys really like Jake and the Neverland Pirates. Grammy came through with a stellar pinata that, truth be told, was most likely seaworthy (though we didn't test this theory out). The kids had a wonderful time. This year we went with a slightly upgraded bounce house complete with a slide and separate bouncing area and the kids had a blast and, more importantly, less collisions.

We got really lucky. The forecasts leading up to the party called for rain and thunderstorms all day but the weather hold off with nary a drop.

Quinn bedecked in his Disney pirate hat and accessories from Uncle Jon.

Jake's ship, Bucky, courtesy of my mother. By the end of the day she had taken quite the beating. Arrrr.

Pirate revelry.

Kids enjoying the air conditioning while the adults swelter outside.

Arrr, well thar be a picture worth saving.

The dread pirate Kendra with her first mate.

The seas were very rough.

Some had to walk the plank.

Cohen watches the pinata chaos.

The captured ship unveiled a large bounty of sweets from the Far East.

And some greater treasures.

You're doing it wrong.

Dread pirate Kendra prepared a wide array of frosted goodness.

Which her first mate enjoyed...a bit too much.

We ended with some buttery cake to finish.

2011-08-03T08:29:00.001-04:00

Birthday boy gets the choice of birthday activities. It's a rule. So yesterday we spent the day skipping from country to country in pursuit of birthday glee. We spent the morning and afternoon at Crystal Beach with Grammy and Grandpa. The boys had a great time and did all the usual beach things. I got a terrible sunburn because I trusted the stupid spray on Banana Boat sunblock. Both boys were so exhausted that they fell asleep on the ride home. Later Quinn chose to go to Duff's for dinner so we had a table full of chicken wings and sandwiches before going back home for cookie cake.

One undeniable truth is that Quinn has become purely boy over the course of his fifth year. So far his gifts include goalie pads, golf clubs, and a Sidney Crosby jersey from us, my parents and Shannon's dad, respectively (I'm weeping about this last one. But we'll get him back over to the blue and gold.). I spent a good amount of time in the driveway trying to go five hole on the little guy but he has this Dominic Hasek like butterfly style that makes him tough to beat.

Quinn is six! It's unbelievable. We closed the night watching home movies that I put together over the years. I know I say it every year but it's funny how they grow up and older and you don't notice it unless you stop and look.

Stony Beach Adventures

2011-07-31T14:46:00.001-04:00

Our evening drive Thursday night inspired a Friday adventure to Gallagher Beach and the Small Boat Harbor. Me and the boys took a two hour stroll and explored. The boys chased birds, through rocks in the water, took a wobbly walk on a floating dock and examined a huge dead fish. Good times all around.

Fireworks Exploding in the Distance - Tragically Hip, July 30th, 2011

2011-07-31T14:15:00.004-04:00

For years my friends and I were dismayed and amazed that the Hip never became big nationally. Sure they played Saturday Night Live and played a beatific set at Woodstock 1999. But they never caught on and we always wondered why.

I mean Gord Downie is possibly the best front man to ever stand on stage. He has the charisma of a Southern Baptist minister. He spits the impromptu poetry of a spoken word artist in his improvised rants. His lyrics are poetry. He has a unforced voice which sounds better live than recorded. He is theatrics personified and gives everything he has.

I think part of what prevented this widespread appeal is what makes them wonderful to begin with -- everything mentioned in the previous paragraph -- the poetic lyrics, Downie's rants, and lush yet sometimes dense songs. The Hip's music is a double edged sword -- the depth which keeps some at arms length at the same time makes others grasp and pull them tight. So, for those who have put the work in -- pretty much the northeastern United States and Canada -- Hip concerts are akin to religious experiences.

Last night's concert on the waterfront was a revival. There was foot stomping. There was speaking in tongues (no matter how well you think you know Hip lyrics while driving and singing in the car, once you get out in the wild at a live show all bets are off. 90% of the crowd mumbled incoherently during At the Hundreth Meridian.). There was a straw hat (worn by Gord Downie). There were no aisles, but there sure was dancing.

And what a tent! Last night I was simply proud to be from Buffalo. The Harbor is absolutely gorgeous and it starts at the parking lot. We parked near the docks at the Erie Basin Marina and walked to the show in the shadow of World War II warships while watching people bring their boats up the Buffalo River. We circled around the brick museum and entered the ticket line which took us across the picturesque pedestrian bridge and into the Central Wharf.

The venue is framed by the skyway on one side and the river on the other. Upon entering we saw people tying up their boats, a raucous squirt gun war and a lone man kayaking up to the show. The place was mobbed as they sold 11,000 tickets to the show, selling out two months in advance. The Skyway, which most people consider an eyesore and barrier to development, looked beautiful in the setting now that it is surrounded by lush grass. Between you and me I think that many people are going to reconsider their views on this track of road. It looks like it belongs and, dare I say it, it's almost a marvel of human engineering when juxtaposed by the green community space and waterfront. People like to bitch about it, but I thinks I like it.

As the sun set and the Hip went on, the location did even more to accentuate the show. Midway through the set there was an unexpected fireworks display to the rear of the concert. The inaugural Outer Harbor Fest provided the dramatic visual display. The fireworks built over three or four songs, all the while Gord Downie mixed the fireworks into his trademark rants. The display ended in a huge weeping sparkle that consumed the entire sky. If I were more observant I'd share what song was playing, but alas.

Even cooler, once the fireworks subsided someone started letting go of balloons that seemed to contain a candle. I don't know what they were or where they came from, but every five minutes a white balloon like orb with an interior light would drift from the river over the crowd and stage past the Skyway and off into the city. Like Downie's rants they were unplanned, improvised, and poetic in their own way.

As for the performance as a whole, as I've said before I hate trying to describe music or performances. I'll spare you the drippy hyperbole. Downie was frenetic, they played a great set culled from their deep catalog and stuck mostly to old favorites. New Orleans is Sinking/Nautical Disaster medley was probably the high point of the show, though hearing the crowd singing along to Bobcaygeon was pretty special too. They played other classics too -- Fiddler's Green, Grace, Too, Wheat Kings. And they ended their encore with Music at Work. My only complaint was that the show seemed one encore short and that they didn't play Fire in the Hole. It would have also been cool to hear them play Fireworks while the fireworks were exploding, but I guess a guy can't have everything.

Upon exiting the show, my friend Mark remarked that it was the best show he'd ever been to. I'm hard pressed to disagree. The setting was beautiful. The crowd was engaged. The lead singer was electric. And there was also that feeling of exclusivity. Buffalo (along with Northern cities and Canada obviously) gets The Tragically Hip. The Hip are from Ontario but they define Buffalo in way that no other band does (certainly not the flippin' Goo Goo Dolls). They are populist. They are working class. They are stripped down rock and roll. So, it was fitting that they put on the marquee show at the start of this inaugural season of shows at the Central Wharf -- a location that defines our past and hopefully will define our city's future. It looked good down there. And it sounded even better.

When Ice Cream Attacks

2011-07-30T14:37:00.007-04:00

You better bring wet wipes. On Wednesday we took an evening stroll on the waterfront to get some Ice Cream at The Hatch. We walked along the water and took a look at the boats. On the way home we took a Skyway detour to check out the developments along the Outer Harbor. Everything is looking really nice. Furhman Boulevard now has traffic circles and beautiful archways leading to Tifft Farms and The Old First Ward. I'm excited about what's to come.

Crystal Lake Erie Blue

2011-07-29T14:37:00.001-04:00

We're trying to keep busy now that it's summer, so Tuesday we hopped up to Crystal Beach with the kids to enjoy the sun and waves.

A Walk at Reinstein Woods

2011-07-26T16:46:00.002-04:00

Now that I'm completely off during the summer I am looking for things to do during the day. This morning the boys and I went down to Reinstein Woods for a little nature walk.

Holding on for Dear Life (Disney Report Part Five)

2011-07-23T12:17:00.003-04:00

Two year olds pretty much like everything. If they don’t, they scream. Rides = happy. Heat and Green Groaning Hulk Gloves from Aunt Kathy = scream. Like it. No like it. It’s a binary.

Cohen pretty much liked every ride he went on. Small World. Pirates of the Caribbean. The ferry boat. The Many Adventures of Winnie the Pooh. Maelstrom. The carousel. He even liked waiting in lines as it was an opportunity to be unattached to his stroller.

Through Quinn, on the other hand, we got an opportunity to explore the different depths of ride fandom. And I’m a little surprised with what we found. First of all, Quinn does not like even the slightest amount of dramatic tension. I don’t know how this happened but I am prone to point the finger at his love of Finding Nemo when he was younger. He watched that movie pretty much every day for awhile. He loved it, but during the shark parts, he either left the room or covered his head. To this day he refuses to watch anything that is the slightest bit scary. This drama induced fear made a few rides unenjoyable for the lad. Surprisingly, and this breaks my heart, but he did not like Pirates of the Caribbean. I think the beginning unsettled him as there was darkness and cannon fire. Pirates is one of my all time favorite rides. At night, when most Disney novices were busying themselves watching the parade or fireworks, Jon and I used to get off that ride and run back around and get back in line. We would do this over and over again only stopping when it was time to make our way to Tomorrowland Speedway and do the same thing until it was time to go home.

Ironically, though Quinn did not like dramatic danger, he loves thrill rides. The boy loves roller coasters. It started when we went for a few spins on the (formerly Wedway) People Mover. Quinn said, “Dad, this is like a roller coaster for napping.” Quinn loved the ride and also had his interest piqued for Space Mountain as the People Mover makes a pass through that ride while cars are making their slow ascent up one particularly steep hill. So, on our last night we grabbed a Fast Pass for that ride and had to kill an hour before our turn came up. To kill time, I decided to take him on one of the few roller coasters I’ve enjoyed in my life; Big Thunder Mountain. We ran through the line (most park goers were lining up for the fireworks) and quickly boarded. I noticed that while the safety bar was firmly planted on my legs there was about a three inch gap between his leg and the bar. I put my arm around his shoulder, squeezed tight, and away we went.

Man, I hate roller coasters. At 6’4 I have a constant fear that the ride designers undercompensated for my height or that a bolt has come loose or something is hanging that shouldn’t be. Whenever I go under an overpass or around a twisty turn, I’m laden with a fear that I’m going to be scalped. I’ve never been able to get over this fear. I spent the whole time ducking to protect myself and squeezing onto Quinn’s shoulder so he wasn’t jettisoned by a sharp turn.

After Quinn rode the coaster twice (once more with Shannon) we proceeded across the park to Space Mountain. Because I don’t like roller coasters, I’ve only gone on Space Mountain once or twice in my life. I have terrible memories of jettisoning through the dark through twists and turns and down steep hills. Just picture my 6’4 98 pound 12 year old self rattling around a roller coaster, string bean in an empty can, barely contained by an overstretched safety harness. Nevertheless, I knew that if I was going to be a proper Dad I had to man up and get on the ride.

We entered the Fast Pass lane and hustled our way past hundreds of people, some of whom reached out to give Quinn high fives. I have to hand it to the kid, his confidence never faltered. We got on the ride, secured ourselves, and away we went. It was probably the worst ride of my life. I reached over Quinn’s seat back the entire ride and held onto his shoulders while ducking to prevent my own decapitation. It was two minutes of hell. In fact, the ride may have taken one of the most hilarious ride pictures in the history of Disney. After exiting the ride we looked at our picture--Quinn’s has his hands in the air, smile spread across his face. I’m scrunched behind him, grimacing in fear, clutching his shoulders for dear life. It was not one of my finer moments.

One of the things about this trip that I’ll remember most is that it was a trip where Quinn passed that rite of passage -- his first roller coaster. He has spent years on the little kiddie rides at Fantasy Island, the county fair, and local carnivals. This year he stepped it up and rode with the big boys. And though his Dad might have been holding on for dear life, he embraced the coasters for all the thrill they had to offer.

4th of July

2011-07-22T14:30:00.000-04:00

We went up to Crystal Beach, ON for the Fourth of July. I took some video of our day of beach going. Later we returned home for smores and fireworks.

Heat, Exhaustion, and Summer Rains (Disney Report Part Four)

2011-07-18T14:55:00.002-04:00

“Well, Disney’s not really a vacation.”

I wish these words would have been shared with me before we left for our trip so that I could have altered my expectations. Turns out that Disney in July is hot. Really hot. Oppressively hot. Stepping out of the hotel room is not unlike stepping into the steam room at the Y. The only difference is Florida has lizards and tropical flora. We had a great trip, but it was exhausting. Every day was in the mid-nineties, every day was humid, and it rained everyday anywhere between twenty minutes and five hours.

We tried to battle the heat. We brought our stroller and when that gave out rented a Disney stroller. We bought one of those handheld battery powered misting fans. We brought bottles of water and filled our portable Disney supplied (fort $14.95) relatively spill proof cup with water. Despite our valiant efforts, we all routinely succumbed to the elements.

During the day the biggest problem was carrying kids. You see, we brought a stroller for the sole purpose of avoiding having to carry kids. However, two year olds don’t really want to hang out in a stroller so after about fifteen minutes Cohen would start complaining that he wanted to get out and walk. We’d put up with the complaining for a little while but then would invariably give in and let him out. One would think he’d be pleased with this result, but after walking for one minute in the sweltering July hit he’d stop, throw his hands in the air and scream “Carry ME!” This pattern repeated itself four or five times a day for the entire vacation.

Quinn was equally frustrating. We figured a five year old would be able to leverage Sit and Stand stroller use against a good amount of walking. Umm, no. One step out of the stroller and the kid needed to be carried. Park the stroller to go on a ride? “DADDY! CAN YOU CARRY ME?” Fold the stroller to get on the bus? “DADDY! CAN YOU CARRY ME?” Anytime that boy separated from that stroller -- meals, bathroom trips, gift shops, whatever -- he wanted to be picked up. I spent the entire trip with one to two sweaty kids plied to their even sweatier Daddy. It was like carrying to soggy gummy bears while being cloaked in Saran wrap soaked in Mayonaise.

The rain was even worse. It rained really hard for two days. They were miserable (they meaning everyone but me. I’m Irish. I can soldier on through anything except maybe other people being miserable.). Shannon and Quinn wore ponchos so they were alright but Cohen refused to wear his poncho (in his defense, I tried one on and it was as oppressive as the heat. It was like wearing a hot and moist hefty bag.) Everyone who knew of our trip warned us that it would rain every day as this is normal for July in Florida. But, they did not warn us that a tropical depressions would hover over us for two days and hammer us with relentless downpour.

It’s funny though. Yeah, it was hot and it rained. But the heat and rain made the absence of both so much more enjoyable. Every night, after the sun went down, the weather was perfect. In fact, the last three days of our trip we kind of planned around it and visited the parks during the morning, swam at the hotel during the day, and returned to the parks for dinner and rides at night. By the time dinner was over the sun was setting and we could properly enjoy the park.

Nighttime was great. The kids didn’t want to be carried as much. They listened a little more. Whined a little bit less. Each night we’d leave the parks around 11 or so and they would fall asleep in our arms on the bus. Carrying sleeping kids is different than carrying impatient, sweaty, miserable children. Carrying a sleeping child is a gift. When a kid falls asleep on a parent it is a sign of unconditional trust, love and exhaustion. Holding my sleeping children on the bus reminded me of all those nights in my own childhood when I’d cuddle up on my Mom or Dad on the ferry back to the parking lot. Those moments were perfect.

Overall, this trip reaffirmed my beliefs about most vacations. Trips are sometimes miserable. Things get tense. Temperatures rise both figuratively and literally. Rain falls. But after the fact, the only thing you really remember is the good part of the journey while the inconveniences, poor conditions, and tension dry up like so much summer rain.

All He Wants to Do is Dance, Dance (Disney Report Part Three)

2011-07-17T14:29:00.002-04:00

In Quinn's bedroom are several framed pictures of his two and a half year old self posing with characters from Winnie the Pooh. In 2007, our last trip, he couldn't have been more excited to meet all his friends from the Disney Channel. But, this time he was kind of hesitant with the characters on this trip. On our first day of the trip we went to Hollywood Studios and visited the Disney Jr. live show. After the show a few characters from Little Einsteins and Handy Manny were available for pictures but Quinn wanted nothing to do with it. He was visibly annoyed at Jo Jo’s presence at one character breakfast. It was sad to see that Quinn thought he had outgrown certain characters and that they were too babyish. I tried to talk to him about how I still like Star Wars even though I’m a grown up and this kind of made a difference in his attitude but at every character meet and greet there was a sense that he was going through the motions (even with Phineas and Ferb, who I thought he’d love to see).

Cohen, on the other hand, was star struck. Every time he saw a character you could hear him draw in breath with excitement. When walking up to a character Coh had a consistent move. He would walk up to the character, sit down on the ground (at which point the character would also sit), reach his hands up to touch the character’s nose, and then go in for the big hug. Goofy, Donald, Manny, Oso, everyone. He did not discriminate.

And he had so many opportunities to meet characters. We had breakfast at the Tusker House, Hollywood and Vine, and Chef Mickey’s. We had dinner at Mickey’s Backyard BBQ and the Crystal Palace. And don’t get my started on dancing. In Tomorrowland they have a nightly dance party with characters, so three of the nights we spent at Magic Kingdom were finished off by a Cohen/character dance party. That kid really knows how to shake and there was seemingly no end to his energy.

This is one of those things I’ll remember about our trip. It was exciting to see Disney through the fresh eyes of someone who wholeheartedly believes and is entranced by the characters and world. Quinn is just past that point, but Cohen was starstruck.

The Unexplored (Disney Report Part Two)

2011-07-16T12:57:00.004-04:00

Disney is huge. Absolutely enormous. I believe that the video on the Magical Express stated that the entire complex is seven square miles but it feels like so much more. We spent eight days living everything Disney-- we stayed at a Disney Hotel (Port Orleans Riverside (more on that later)), rode Disney transportation, ate Disney meals and breathed Disney air. Even so, I feel like we didn’t see ⅕ of what was there. Even though we spent parts of four days and nights at the Magical Kingdom, I still have yet to go on the Astro Orbiter, Aladdin’s Magic Carpet, and Mickey’s Philharmagic. The kids didn’t get to see The Country Bear Jamboree or my childhood favorite, Tom Sawyer’s Island. I missed even bigger rides at the other parks. We didn’t get to see Test Track and I’ve still yet to ride the Rock n Roller Coaster and Toy Story Midway Mania at Hollywood Studios despite spending two extra Magic Hours at that park. I’ve also never been to either of the water parks. In many ways Disney World is like a great fantasy novel -- you constantly have that feeling that more story has happened or is happening outside of the story you are experiencing.

More so, I’ve been going to Disney every one or two years since I was two months old and this trip I discovered things I’ve never experienced before. Quinn and I went on Mission: Space, a five minute space shuttle simulator that subjects ride goers to 2.4 G forces (Quinn and I went on the orange, or more intense version of the ride). As we spent two days at Epcot we were able to explore Innoventions and I tried carbonated beverages from around the world at Cool House (Beverly, and appetite stimulator from Italy was bitter and disgusting. I don’t know what those people are thinking over there). We finally made it over to Rafiki’s Planet Watch on one of our two ill fated trips to Animal Kingdom and the kids watched turtles racing and brushed goats while watching other goats butt heads. We also ventured to the resorts for dinners -- we watched the Hoop De Doo Musical Revue and ate at Mickey’s Backyard Barbecue.
The list of new things could go on. The Finding Nemo musical. 3D Muppets. Jedi training. Epcot passports. Even cooler, they are in the process of adding on to Magic Kingdom and in 2012 will unveil two new sections which will add about ⅓ more space.

Before we embarked, I had visions of seeing everything. I figured, eight days would be enough to visit every nook and cranny. In hindsight, it wasn’t even close. (Though, if the kids were a bit older I bet we could have taken a far more sizeable chunk out of each park.) I guess that’s one of the things that keeps people coming back. Visiting Disney is like rereading a favorite book. You get to experience what you’ve always loved but also get the satisfaction of noticing something for the first time.

Disney Is Small World (Disney Report Part One)

2011-07-14T23:34:00.004-04:00

We landed in Buffalo yesterday evening after what can only be described as a marathon eight days at Walt Disney World. We had a wonderful time. Eight days of theme parks, swimming pools, dinner reservations and fireworks displays. Eight days of near midnight bedtimes and waking up groggy to rush out to 8 am character breakfasts. Eight days of sweltering 95 degree tropical heat punctuated by torrential downpours of Biblical proportions. Eight days of bus rides, boat rides, monorail rides, piggy back rides and enough walking to counteract any potential weight gain brought about by the Disney Deluxe Dining program. We came, we rode, we laughed, we cried, we yelled -- in fact, there are few verbs that we did not perform during these eight days.

After eight days, it occurred to me on the plane ride that I have quite a few things I’d like to say. So, instead of releasing a torrent of rants and raves in one blog post, I’ve decided to break up my review and report into a series of blog posts over the course of the next week. Enjoy!

Part One: Disney is the Small World

One of the things that repeatedly amazes me about Disney World is the wide variety of people you see there. I’d be willing to bet that there is not a place on Earth where more people from different places are gathered together in an unfamiliar element. (Granted, these are mostly people from the middle class and up. Disney sure is expensive.) This trip I was struck by the amount of Brazilians teenagers traveling with tour companies. We encountered at least ten different tours in our travels. Each tour had a group of 50-100 teenagers all decked out in the same tshirt following a troop leader holding a flag in the air. The groups would march from ride to attraction in a near single file line. On one of our first nights I watched as a tour worker with a professional grade digital video camera backed down Main Street USA followed by a mass of kids chanting...well...chanting something Brazillian. They stopped at the end of Main Street and chants of the two hundred kids were joined by smaller groups of 10-20 from other tours who were sitting at various surrounding restaurants. It wasn’t threatening or intimidating (which would be my usual feeling if I was encircled by 300 chanting adolescents). I just felt like I was watching a special moment in these people's lives.

There were countless moments like this. The french speaking life guard who translated for a paramedic attending to a three year old fgirl who had bumped her head on our hotel’s waterslide. An Italian family making goofy faces at Cohen as he slipped off to sleep on a late night bus ride. The thick accent of the German beer maid pouring my tall glass of Hovels. The brief exchange in Spanish I had with an elderly Hispanic man and his adult daughter after I took their picture in Epcot (Me: Uno mas? Man: Si, si. Gracias. Me: De nada). Listening to Portuguese teenage chatter on another late night bus ride home. I think that eavesdropping on conversations and attempting to decipher which language is being spoken is one of my favorite unofficial Disney pastimes.

One of Quinn and Cohen’s favorite rides this trip was It’s a Small World. You know the ride. Happy little seventies era animatronic dolls from every nation singing the ride’s theme song in different languages while riders sail along on small plastic boats. In a way, Disney is Small World. Different people from different countries step onto planes and boats and travel to this place--this separate place--that is foreign to everyone, and they move in between and around and sometimes in conjunction with each other. In some small way, it is magical.

Standards

2011-07-07T00:02:00.001-04:00

Tonight Quinn and I swam at the Disney resort we are staying at. It was nearing 11pm and he was running out of steam producing increasingly impressive cannonballs. Quinn was well behaved at the fun park but on several occasions refused to tale part in an activity. For instance, he refused to get his picture taken with Leo from the Einsteins and Handy Manny. So, I asked him what the deals was.
"I don't know Dad. They're too little."
"Well," I said, "Are there any characters you would get photographed with? What about Tigger and Pooh?"
"Definitely not."
"What about Mickey Mouse?"
"Oh yeah. Definitely."
I'm not sure what criteria he has established for who he will or will not be photographed with, but the old guard--The Einsteins and Manny and JoJo--are definitely out. Old classics like Mickey and Chip and Dale are still in and the person he would definitely want to get photographed with is Jake from Jake and the Neverland Pirates.

By the Pool

2011-07-04T08:35:00.003-04:00

Just bought a Kodak ZX5 underwater camera. Thought I'd take it out for a spin this weekend.

For the Birds

2011-06-28T22:02:00.002-04:00

Shannon bought me a bird feeder for Father's Day. I've wanted a bird feeder for a long time. Well, since the last one fell apart at least.

It's a cool little feeder. It's cylindrical and holds a full bag of bird seed. I plopped down $12 and bought a mix with corn and raisins and sunflower seeds that discourages greckels and other blackbirds. We've placed the feeder at the corner of our patio right next to our chairs and umbrella.

Since I hung the feeder, our backyard has been a constant stream of animal activity. We have a pair of chipmunks and a whole host of black capped chickadees performing gymnastic stunts throughout the day. We've spotted cardinals and American Goldfinches and countless sparrows from around the neighborhood. I'm struggling a little bit identifying the birds. I just assume they are sparrows but I have a sneaking suspicion that I'm bunching a couple of different species of birds under that designation.

The Problem With My Coffee Shop Drive Through Cashiers

2011-06-21T08:14:00.000-04:00

One thing that kind of bothers me is that humanity has not struck a balance in defining suitable morning coffee drive through barista interaction. Because of my morning traffic flow I can generally stop by two coffee dispensing institutions. On most days I stop at a Tim Hortons*/Mobil combination drive through because there is no line and it is directly on the route to my parents house. On days when I feel like spoiling myself I'll pop through the Starbucks near my school and grab a venti black Americano. Mmmmmm.

This should be a simple process. Order. Pay. Drive. That's all I need.

At Tim Hortons the problems start at the ordering station. I want a coffee. Black. Touch of butter caramel. But, without fail, after I order the girl on the other side of the microphone needs to push a little farther. "Do you want to try a strawberry cream banana nut red white and blue jelly donut with that?"

If I did, I would have mentioned it.

I try to guard against this. When ordering, I say, "I only want a medium black coffee with butter caramel." Doesn't matter. Obligatory reminder offer of latest novelty donut item. Without fail.

The problem continues when I get to the window. Now, this is going to sound mean. I'm sorry. But the guy at the drive thru window has sausages for fingers. And he's a behemoth. Not only that, but he doesn't wait for me to get my change in my wallet before shoving my coffee at me. I fumble through my wallet only to look up and find the love child of Shrek and Ben Grimm cramming my piping hot coffee at my face with his giant ham hands. Again, I'm sorry, and I've thought about raising the issue with him, but I'm afraid there is no way to present this information without my ending up like a pile of mashed potatoes.

At Starbucks I have the opposite problem; a middle aged man who wants to chit chat. I just want my coffee. I do not want to tell you about my weekend. I do not want to hear about your weekend. I do not want to discuss the difficulties of Mondays. I don't want to discuss the economy or my iPad or goatees. It's nothing against you. Order. Pay. Drive. That's all I want.

Somewhere there's a happy medium. Somewhere there is a patient world wise drive through worker who opens the window, gently hands the coffee over, looks knowingly and says, "Dude. Coffee." Somewhere an elderly woman hands out the black richness with a glint in her eye and a "Here ya go honey." I just wish that somewhere was on my commute. Order. Pay. Drive. Simple equation.
_________________
* Did you know that there is no apostrophe in Tim Hortons? Interesting. It was founded by Tim Horton. It was his donut shop. Should it not be Tim Horton's? I'm confused as to how that works.

Okkervil River at the Town Ballroom

2011-06-20T17:06:00.002-04:00

Last week I did a cool thing. I went downtown to the Town Ballroom to see Okkervil River and Titus Andronicus. Titus Andronicus opened and they were great. The lead singer has this weird vibe...sort of like a raging frenetic geekster who suffered years of abuse in high school and now has this beatified stage to share out about it. They are from Jersey and they play this slightly fuzzed out angry literate indie rock (I absolutely hate trying to describe music. Just know this -- they rock, they sound slightly angry, they bounce around, and their lyrics blend the smart and the raw. Good stuff.) I was about three people from the stage and spent the first part of the set fiddling with Shannon's camera as I never used it to take pictures in an indoor venue.

Okkervil River took the stage afterward. They are my favorite band. Two years Paul and I went up to see them in Toronto after missing their show in Buffalo. They never disappoint. The lead singer, Will Sheff, has a mesmerizing stage presence. They played a good mix of old and new songs. My favorite moment was when they played the slower "Come Back I'm Waiting" in the middle of the set. The song and I have a lengthy history together which I won't get into. Most of the band left the stage and Sheff played a slow, cautious rendition of the song. He sang it so slow and so powerfully that audience members around me could not help but audibly comment on the beauty of the song in the midst of the song. It was so quiet you could hear goosebumps raising. They played a great set and ended with "Unless It's Kicks," which I've embedded for you because I love you. I don't know if it was the best concert I've ever been to, but it was by far my favorite.

Daddy Weekend

2011-06-19T22:58:00.006-04:00

Phew. Now that was a weekend. The weekend started a little early as Quinn and his class invited Dad's in for "Donuts for Dad," a celebration of fatherhood, coffee, donuts, and big tents. I took a personal day and was able to drive Quinn into school. We sat down, ate donuts, changed seats, drank coffee, and walked into his school together. It was a great way to kick off a busy weekend.

Later, after my haircut, Shannon, my Mom, her Dad, and I went to see Quinn's end of Kindergarden celebration. All the kids gathered on the stage and performed a twenty minute musical skit reporting on everything they did during the year. It was totally awesome. I'm going to throw up the video within in next few days.

After the skit, Quinn went to his grandma's and Cohen followed after his nap. We went out with friends for an adult dinner. I love adult dinners with friends. Such needed respite.

We woke up Saturday morning and went to watch Quinn play soccer. He scored four or five goals. I only got to half watch as I was responsible for watching Cohen on the playground.

From soccer the family went out to Treehaven street sale. When the Treehaven street sale signs go up, it's a sure sign that summer is here. We walked up and around the block. We picked up a new tricycle for Cohen, this one with a raised bar that will allow us to push while he pedals. He's been using it ever since (as has Quinn). It is a Godsend. No more awkwardly bending over while he wails when he can't pedal or gets sick of using his Flintstone method. I also picked up a couple of albums to festoon my garage wall. I picked up Simon and Garfunkel's Greatest Hits, U2's Joshua Tree, and More from the Monkees. I hung them this afternoon--wonderful additions to the man cave.

After Treehaven we headed out to Greg's U Pick in Clarence for a little strawberry picking. We picked strawberries. It was nice. The kids had fun. We got some good pictures. The end.

We finished the night with S'mores and a campfire. I swear if awards were given for perfectly golden marshmallows, I would have come in at least in eighth place. By the end of the evening I converted Quinn from a charred and black marshmallow fan to a celebrant of the lightly toasted. Mmmmmm.

This morning we got up and hit the road again. We decided to get the kid back outside and went for a hike to the Eternal Flame at Chestnut Ridge. We saw salamanders, butterflies, poison ivy, shells of spent American chestnuts, and plenty of ferns. It was a nice walk, the kids enjoyed themselves and Cohen cooperated for the most part. It was my first trip to that trail and I must say it was pretty awesome. It was a beautiful forty five minute walk to a natural gas fed flame nestled into a waterfall.

After our hike, Grandpa Jack came over to go to the local driving range. It was Quinn's first trip to the range and he hit his bucket, the bottom half of my bucket, and a handful of grandpa's balls. He was hitting the ball pretty well for his first time out. He was open to pointers and enjoyed himself. I was hitting the ball decently. During one stretch I decided to swing all out and was rolling them to the garages at the end of Bobblelinks, which is about a three hundred yard drive. I was very erratic though.

After golfing Grandpa John came over for steak dinner and cookie cake. The boys ate so much. Both cleared their plates of steak, taters, and corn (hot dogs in Cohen's case). Quinn got to take a ride in Grandpa's Mustang while Cohen cried from the driveway.

Overall, it was a full weekend. But a nice weekend. We did a lot but had just the right mix of activities and sitting around time. I even got to take a wife sanctioned nap today. Who could ask for more?

A Dude Cut My Hair Today

2011-06-17T12:09:00.002-04:00

One really neat thing I did today was get my haircut by a dude. Other than me, no dude has cut my hair since I was a little kid.

As a child, a dude named Angelo used to cut my hair. He was a barber on the corner of Duerstein and Seneca. He was old school--even had one of those peppermint spinny things that barbershops like to have to indicate that they are barbershops. His shop was dingy and smelled like shaving cream and barbicide. He also had a moustache if that counts for anything. We parted ways before I reached my teens and since then it's been all women all the time. Big women, little women, women with big hair, and women with bobbed cuts. I've liked the arrangement.

So today, I called the local spa where Shannon makes me get my hair cut. I didn't plan on getting my haircut today but it was getting long and I felt I'd get a jump start on summer. I only had a small window of opportunity because we had Quinn's kindergarden gala in the early afternoon. I looked up the number all by myself, called and spoke to the receptionist and haggled over a time I could come in.

"I have a 10:30 with Dan," the receptionist said. "Is that okay?"

"Sure," I replied.

When I hung up, it hit me what I had agreed to. All sorts of scenarios started going through my head. What would we talk about? Where should I put my hands? What if it moves while I get my hair shampooed?

I arrived a little bit early and decided that I would try to act naturally. Dan came out to greet me and we did a manly hand shake. I made sure my hand went high into the crook of his and that my grasp was firm. He had good hair, expensive jeans, and was well manicured.

We sat down and traded stories. We both have children. He likes to mountain bike. I'm thinking about taking up trail running. He worked me meticulously. He was very particular. There were several lulls in the conversation -- awkward minutes that he rescued us from with fresh topics for small talk. I got the distinct impression that he felt awkward cutting my hair too -- his angles of approach were all off like he didn't want to accidentally brush me with his man parts. I didn't know where to look so I looked down for the most part. I wasn't sure if eye contact was part of the deal. I generally kept my hands folded in my lap but did shift them to the arms of the chair for a short period. At one point I reached up to brush bristly hair off my nose.

After 45 minutes, we were done. He didn't wash my hair. I lunged to shake his hand but he pulled back. I tried again but again he pulled back. He held out his fist and mumbled something about his hands and product.

I looked unsure so he walked me to the receptionist afterwards. We both stood there. I felt vaguely like we had done something wrong. He left me and I paid. I gave the women $20 for the $15 haircut and said thank you. She asked if the rest was for Dan. I mumbled something and turned to get out of the door.

My rearview mirror inspection leads me to believe that this may be the best haircut I've ever had. I might wait a few weeks and try to set up a second appointment. In the meantime I might scribble down a list of topics that we might talk about at any future haircuts. Maybe Yahoo Answers can yield some insight. It was good. I just know that I have to work a little harder on my end to make it better.

Overruled!

2011-06-07T22:16:00.003-04:00

1We've been working the past few weeks on redoing the landscaping around our driveway. My wife negotiated her way into full design control over the front of the house in exchange for her promise to leave my backyard thyme alone.

The arrangement has been followed so far. But yesterday, while Shannon was out shopping, I decided to go with my floral hunch and plant sunflowers next to each ornamental grass at the end of the driveway.

Shannon came home and quickly let me know that she was not a fan and demanded that I remove the sunflowers to an approved location. I backed up my hunch and refused.

Later that evening, as we were getting ready to go in the house for the evening, Quinn called me to the front of the house in a forced whisper. "Dad! Dad! Come 'ere." I hurried out the front to find two finches frolicking on the new flowers. We sat and watched them for a few minutes until we crept too close.

Quinn and I quickly decided that the flowers are here to stay.

7 Goals and Hypersenstive Soccer Moms

2011-06-06T21:16:00.044-04:00

Quinn is a soccer maniac. We signed him up for West Seneca soccer this year and he is loving it. He is at the tail end of his age group and is really dominating out there. He spends so much time playing sports of all types that this isn't really super surprising. This past week he scored seven goals vs. the raspberry team (actually, the pink team but I don't think they want to upset the male players on that team) en route to a 10-2 victory. To keep it in perspective, I should mention that they don't play with goalies and that there are a number of four year olds out there that haven't quite put all the pieces together. Still, it's nice to see him out there having fun and hustling (You should see him get back on defense. He's a two way player. Makes me proud.).

The game was not without incident, however. I wanted to get some video of the action so I sat down about fifteen yards beyond the goal line where I could be comfortable and use my telephoto to get in close. After about five minutes of shooting video and pictures a rather large WS Soccer polo clad coach/mom approached me.

Rather large WS Soccer polo clad coach mom: Excuse me, are you a parent?
Me: .....
Rather large WS Soccer polo clad coach mom: Are you with one of the children?
Me: .....
Rather large WS Soccer polo clad coach mom: Because we can't have random strangers snapping pictures of the kids.
Me: ....

Now, I don't know how she got the creeper vibe from me. That part of the complex holds about twelve soccer fields full of five year olds and camera toting 30 somethings. Why she suspected me of gathering naughty soccer photos is beyond me. But someone should have told her that she is in a public space and has no reasonable expectation of privacy for her children, much less her oversized derriere. I would have, but my tongue doesn't always work well under pressure. (I am pretty good at dirty looks though.) Anyways. Something about kids sports brings out the hypersensitive weirdo in everyone I guess.

First Half Marathon in the Books

2011-05-31T21:21:00.000-04:00

Well, it's done. And this picture just about says it all. This past Sunday I ran in the 2011 Buffalo Marathon. It was a grueling affair. Even though the race started at 7am, the barometer hovered around 75 and there wasn't a cloud in the sky much less any available shade.

I started off pretty well. I finished the first half in just over an hour (1:01 clock time, so like :59 chip time). I was maintaining a decent pace and put a great deal of distance between myself and the 2:10 pace runner. Then, around mile 10, I hit a wall. I reached a section of the course which had four or five bridges. I made it through the first couple, but by the last two I had to stop running and walk to the top of the slope. I was pooped. I struggled my way to a 2:12 finish (chip time), so I basically ran about two minutes per mile slower on the back than I did on the front.

The picture on the right shows me at the finish line. I was a mouth breather. I was exhausted. But, I made it through.

I'm really inspired. I'm sitting here two days later and my calves are sore, but I firmly believe that this will be the first of many half marathons. And, if the Gods be good, maybe a step on the way to a full marathon.

A Boy and His Glove

2011-05-28T08:19:00.001-04:00

Some things you hold on to. My Mom gave me my first baseball mitt; a hand me down glove she used for softball in the 1970's. I used it for years. We restrung portions of the mitt by hand. I had chewed out the webbing in places as well as every dangling leather thread--nothing passes the time in the outfield like chewing on an old baseball glove. It was perfectly broken in and flopped shut around a ball with only the slightest bit of pressure. When you have a broken in mitt it ceases being a tool and instead becomes an extension of self. This mitt helped me learn that the secret to a line drive or fly ball was just getting there. The mitt would do the work.

Now, I'm not on top of things as my Dad was. I don't have a bottle of glove oil stored neatly in the basement amongst old paint cans and lacquer. I did not plant a ball in Quinn's black Wilson glove, slather it in leather conditioner and tether it shut with a rubber band over the winter months. So, he has a plasticky black glove which rejects a tossed ball more than accepts it.

Luckily, as I am prone to hold on to things long after their usefulness has faded, I still had my Mom's old mitt lying around. I gave him the choice of gloves and he quickly accepted the beaten, broken relic. We've been playing catch this past week and something happened over the winter. Playing catch with Quinn has become enjoyable. It's like playing catch with a real person. He doesn't run off after two or three throws. He doesn't demand to bat. He understands we are playing catch and that this is enough. He's got a little arm on him. He rears back and fires the ball right at me. He releases every fourth or fifth ball a little early, sending it into the garden or into the hedges, but most balls are right there. And, just as I had when I was five, he is quickly figuring out that the secret is not in the squeezing, but the getting it there and the accepting.

2011-05-21T19:35:00.001-04:00

Springtime

2011-05-21T09:06:00.001-04:00

It's been a busy spring so far. I just finished teaching my first undergraduate class, am preparing to teach a graduate class at UB, am balancing end of the year stuff at school, and just returned from a three day NWP professional retreat in Kansas City. It seems like I barely have time to breathe. Nevertheless, I thought I'd share some photos.

This I plan on doing some renovation and design work to create a small landing pad down near the stream. The kids absolutely love going down there to throw rocks in the creek.

Another warm season, another year of swinging. I wonder if Cohen will want to get on the swing this year.

I've been talking birds a lot lately. We spied a belted kingfisher in the backyard last week and I showed Quinn my field guide to North American birds. It may be his favorite book. The little guy is becoming a reader and we're really happy to see it. We've recently finished Desperaux and another Magic Treehouse book. Q just took a reading test in school and scored at a near 2nd grade level.

Driveway is in! I moved three yards of dirt, then Shannon ordered another five yards for landscaping beds. This is a woman who clearly does not want me to rest.

Quinn has taken to climb the small tree in our front yard. Yesterday I found him standing on top of a plastic car to get into the huge red maple in our back yard. He eventually succeeded. Lord help us.

Quinn's art work displayed with the other kindergartners' paintings at school.

Close up

Boys and mud piles. A match made in heaven.

King of the world.

We celebrated Shannon's 29th birthday again this week.

A little help from my friends.

Jose Can You See?

2011-05-10T06:07:00.000-04:00

Quinn's been on a National Anthem kick ever since the hockey playoffs began. He sings it pretty much all day. Last week we received an email from his teacher wondering why he was prone to outbursts of the national anthem at pretty much any part of the day. Enjoy!

Driveway Disaster

2011-04-30T09:47:00.001-04:00

We've lived in our house for almost ten years. Despite our most valiant attempts, we've never been to establish any type of curb appeal. What's more, in the last few years we've left the state of our asphalt driveway decline to the point of utter ugliness. We had quite a few problems. We stopped sealing the driveway two years ago because it seemed pointless to pay $200 to seal cracked, pocked, uneven asphalt sitting on top of a preexisting concrete driveway. Our foundation was chipping away under the mailbox. Gutter water has been slowly eroding the asphalt underneath. What's more, a significant part of my summer is either spent trimming hedges, procrastinating about trimming hedges, or dealing with vague guilt over my hedges growing out of control.

This year, we decided we could put it off no longer. We hired the guy who did our back patio to come in and do a complete overhaul. Gone are the hedges! Out with the driveway! Sayonara to the crooked steps! We are putting in a new driveway with a stamped border, steps, and an enlarged stair/porch where people won't have to risk life and limb balancing on undersized steps to avoid the opening door to get into the house.

We've got a lot of work to do. We're still getting prices on running the sump pump and the gutters to a bubbler to get rid of the swamp in our yard and have a lot landscaping design work in front of us. But, it was a long time coming. I'll share more pictures once the driveway is in.

Parental Detente

2011-04-21T22:10:00.000-04:00

Mr. khaki pants and plaid polos with matching tow headed children --
I have duly noted your family’s reflective pose
in front of Gutenberg’s bible as well as your looks
of disapproval as my kids are rattling the marble benches
of the National Gallery with light sabres,
elbow deep into the World War II memorial fountain,
spelunking through the Miro’s yonic brass,
bouncing from seat to seat in a crowded subway car
or lying face down exhausted on the bottom steps of the Lincoln Memorial.
But wait a few moments. My kids are also spontaneously
decorating the tree bark with dandelion heads
for no other reason than that they are breathing
and must too make their mark.

Washington DC Jaunt

2011-04-21T13:21:00.000-04:00

I know the site has been a little word heavy lately (though I have to admit I'm really enjoying writing poetry). This past weekend we went on a multifamily jaunt down to DC. Enjoy the pictures.

Things You Can Do to Keep Yourself From Being Sad When a Trip is Done

2011-04-19T21:13:00.001-04:00

Count cherry blossoms as they go by your window.
Don’t stop until you’ve hit a thousand;
they will blur by on the highway
like purple and white streaks of starlight.
While you count make a list of moments
you want to keep in your pocket -- stash
them deep between the tulip petals and dandelion heads --
right there is room for the seconds you spent
sliding down the knotted tree in the shadow of
the Washington monument and right next to it is space
for the half hour you spent laying in the tube
watching tales of cave men burial rites.
If you cram you might fit those two days
you sang the first verse of the Star Spangled Banner
atop my shoulders, eating ice cream at dusk
on brick steps in front of a water fountain
or laughing uncontrollably when a bird chose
Mr. Kevin’s shoulder too poop on.
How do I know it will work, you ask.
Well, because this poem is in my pocket.

Riding a Subway in a Strange City

2011-04-18T08:44:00.001-04:00

Wrinkled map in hand
holding forth against the shaking cars
connecting blue and red lines
in the flourescent labyrinth,
I feel like Magellan, standing on the
bow of the Trinidad,
hat in hand,
beard blowing in the Pacific wind.