Published writer, compulsive reader, Old School Whovian, Match Game enthusiast, NKOTB fan, data hoarder, and - surprisingly, given that list - married with four kids. Welcome to my take on life, fatherhood, entertainment, and whatever strikes my fancy. Enjoy!
As long as we're talking about dance, here's a goofy makeshift excuse for camera time from YaYa, circa the 16th of May.
and a few moments later, after pleading for me to film her again and bugging me to death, this goofy alphabet 'dance' - could there be a more blatant camera hog?
Last month you saw that LuLu had her dance recital, one Lisa also participated in. I may or may not have mentioned that Lis also works (in exchange for free tuition for YaYa) at the dance studio of her childhood dance instructor.
Today was their dance recital. Lisa was in two dances and YaYa in one. No still or motion photography is allowed during the recital but I'll try to post clips of YaYa's performance when the professional DVD arrives.
The theme of the show was based on the Disney movie 'Enchanted', and YaYa danced a duet as a mouse. Unlike the other recital this is a more home style, low key affair, despite being held at Alverno College. For that reason Lis had to improvise much of the girl's costumes herself, including the ears.
I was a bit worried about the dance. YaYa had only been at the school for a few months and was rusty, but I worried for nothing. She came out beaming, standing as tall and as perfect as a statue, her face animated with joy. The girl has a natural thirst for the limelight and even a stranger could see that she was soaking it in. She even sang along with the song that was playing! Her footwork was less than stellar, but again, chalk that up to the limited time she had and a smidgeon of my genetics. It was more than balanced out by her smile onstage.
Afterwards, roses. A yellow one from me (just to be different from the one I gave Lisa)
and a red one from Lisa's Mom and Step-Dad. (I asked my family not to come, not out of anger but becausethey had been forced to miss LuLu's show, and I did not need her to feel slighted if they came out in force for YaYa's)
Lisa favors the other studio but acknowledges that at this one duets and solos are routine, which is something right up YaYa's alley. So we'll see if she returns there in the fall.
Good job girl!
It started out swell. Lisa took the girls swimming (Lump too) on a gorgeous sunny day, while Smiley and I went rummage sale shopping and hit Home Depot to work on the kids project of the month.
Then it started to rain.
YaYa was (by that time) at a friends house and her friend's Mom called and asked me to come pick her up before supper. As I was loading up the van tornado sirens went off in my neighborhood for the second day in a row.
Tornado's are rarely an issue in Milwaukee. In Dodge and Walworth Counties yes - hell, they should change their names to Kansas and Oklahoma already - but not here, and not by the lake.
["Didya ever hear tornado sirens on back to back days?" Socialist would ask me today. "Yeah, me neither. Not in thirty years"]
I burned rubber getting to the friends house, grabbed YaYa and headed home, narrowly missing a drenching rain. I had the TV tuned to the local ABC affiliate and went outside on the front porch for a looksie.
Soon both YaYa and LuLu ran out "Dad, we have to get to the basement. Now!"
"Relax," I said. "The storm will pass. We'll be ok."
"No, the man on TV said to get to the basement. Let's go. Hurry!"
I am not one to shrivel in the face of a storm. It is my strong and certain conviction that I will eventually perish from obesity, which oddly brings a sense of karmic peace to my encounters with the occasional quote 'danger' unquote. Still, it'd be a pretty lousy example for me to say "hey, ignore the legitimate figure of authority who only has your safety in mind. Come join me as I fly a kit in the rain!"
So we packed off for the basement. We got a bushel together first. A few diapers and wipes, baby formula and bottle, some books to read, a notebook and pens, a crucifix, stuffed animals and some snacks, and went downstairs.
We huddled in the basement bathroom, really pretty close quarters. YaYa read a Junie B Jones book, the baby crawled around beaming her new surroundings, Smiley stretched out on a bench I'd moved in there and tried to take a nap, and LuLu conversed with me. They were all well behaved for the duration of the tornado warning, some 45 minutes or so. It was actually kind of a sweet experience.
Yeah, the baby's holding onto a vacuum brush. Relax, it was right out of the box, brand new, and despite the permanence of a photo, she had it for all of 3 seconds before I grabbed it out of her hand.
Of course the minute I let them loose - the very minute - LuLu broke YaYa's music box and YaYa punched her in return. Smiley jumped in to back up LuLu and exchanged a few swings, and the whole kit and kaboodle came running to me to tattle.
The rest of the day - the rest of the weekend really, went to hell right then. I noticed water coming into the basement. This is not the 'Lion King' water, which as you may recall was caused by a neighbors damaged gutter system (that area remained bone dry through all that follows). This was a seperate leak caused, in part, by water backing up in the back yard and filling our cellar door steps.
I was/am not alone. My place of employment had significant flooding, as did Chris' Dad's house, Socialists, and many many more. 3.1 inches of rain/hour were coming down at one point (it rained ALL night). I read newspaper stories of people swimming across intersections and I personally saw a . .hmmm.. I guess it would be a manhole cover, although it seemed mighty small for one, pushed up by the force of water and unleashing a stream of water across a road. Lisa's place of employment gathered customers and staff together in a break room, angering a lot of customers, and she came home early at my request to lend a hand. So yeah, the weather did a number on a lot of people.
Who cares, you know? The whole dang town could flood so long as my digs remained dry. That didn't happen. The whole family (minus Lump) got into the act of cleaning up the basement and surprisingly even the kids proved helpful. I did however scold them for treating one stretch of the basement as a slip and slide - God knows what infections are now awaiting them.
Socialist came over today to loan me a pump and talk over plans to install a sump pump in the basement. [once again, a last minute call for help answered on the spot; thanks man]
As I write this it's pouring. But I"m sore from lifting and dumping a score and more of 12 gallon shop vac canisters (I misplaced the drainage hose for it and had to lift and dump it into the utility sink), I've got cuts and scrapes everywhere, I'm probably half on my way to gangrene :) and I'm done. For tonight I'm going to ignore it all and act as if I was a 75 year old cripple who not only isn't aware of water in my basement, but is blissfully unable to even go downstairs to check.
Ahhh . . peace.
Ok, ok. I've tried and failed to upload the video of my nephew's speaking role at his grade school graduation. But . . I had another idea in the shower a moment ago - thank you Axe deodorant body wash for your inspiring scent of Lava manliness! - and I'll try that over the weekend.
Meanwhile, I shall comply with my sisters wishes and post about the event.
[It was held at his school's church at six in the evening, and let me just be honest: I'd forgotten that private school ceremonies often take place during Mass. There's nothing like 8 hours of work followed by a two hour Mass to make you wish you'd run off and joined the Merchant Marine years ago. Plus YaYa was a royal pain and had a handful of hissy fits during the event. What fun!]
Ok, all complaining aside, it was a heck of a graduation. There were slide shows, the entire class sang songs, there were awards, there were 'dream boxes', there was a little bit of everything. Frankly, I'm left wondering what these kids will do for high school and college graduation. Anything that can or should be done (in front of your parents at least) they've already tried.
[My nephews dream: to be a graphic artist. My dream: that he cut his hair]
Here I am with my Godson
Here's his Mom
w/
his sisters
w/ his Great-Great Aunt Mabel
These next few refused 'red eye reduction'. 'Twas not intentional folks.
My sister with her Godson.
w/ my folks
w/ his teacher
w/ a girl (name?) who mopped up in the awards category
I have no idea who this is. I just thought the smile was cute, and I figured since he had two pics with her she must be someone of importance . . .
Two attractive girls and he chooses to hug a guy. Hmmm....
Just kidding. The school held a party for all the kids after the event and then the class loaded into a limo and headed out for ice cream.
Ok, on Sunday last his Mom held a family celebration for him. I made some of the cupcakes.
If you've been paying attention you'll be able to pick out three of my kids at the table. (answer: going clockwise from the boy with his hand by his face: the first two and the second to last)
w/ my Dad and my Dad's Aunt Diane
w/ my Godmother and her husband (Uncle George and Aunt Jackie)
and with a bunch of his friends from school
It was a good time and a nice reward for the guy. Here's looking forward to celebrating another graduation in four years!
What an odd city.
This afternoon tornado sirens were going off, fierce winds attacked everything in sight, the sky blanketed the land with darkness, and rain fell in sheets.
A few hours later it was in the 80's (F) and bright and sunny, without so much as a gust of wind.
Huh.
Anyhow I took Lu and Lump outside to play in the front yard for a few minutes. All was well and then, like flipping a switch, Lu started wigging out when her flip-flop fell off her foot..
"Pick up my shoe! Pick it up now! Arrrrgggghhhh! Pick it up now Daddy! I hate you! Pick up my shoe!"
Booyah, off to bed with some words between the front door and her bedroom. The worst part? It took place in full view of the folks we believe called us in as a daycare. In my valiant attempt to continue civil relations I jokingly asked him if these fits would end by the time the girls were twelve. 'Give me some hope,' I said. He laughed and said they would, then he went inside to poke a pin in my voodoo doll.
That last parts just supposition tho'.
Work continues to be a subject verbotten here, but I will say that this morning I attended the inaugural meeting of a steering committee for our business district. With a 1.5 million dollar (starting) budget we have a lot of decisions to make, and the state DOT (Department of Transportation) says that the physical changes they'll implement on our behalf will stand for a quarter century or more. It's a legitimate way for me to leave a mark on the city, even if I wind up selling apples on the street corner when the new owner says 'see ya!'.
I always go into those meetings feeling insecure. I sit down with politicians and business owners and I think "What the hell am I doing here? I'm just the dorky kid from high school, the kid who'd nearly have a panic attack when you went around the room introducing yourself on the first day of class. Now it's 16 years later and I'm sitting here with the cool kids - oh crap!"
And then it starts and at some point I say something, or object to something, and a roomful of people nod and run with my idea. And no matter how many times that happens, or how many times folks ask me to join these committees, I always let out an inner 'yee haw', as if I've managed to pull the wool over their eyes one more time.
Man, I've got some 'core' issues.
* * * *
Today of course is the 64th anniversary of the invasion of Normandy. To all the living survivors of that event, thank you.
My sister is chomping at the bit for me to post about her son's graduation, but I can't figure out how to upload the video of him speaking at the ceremony so she'll just have to wait.
Flakes is a fun little film by the director of Heathers. Zooey Deschanel stars as a struggling artist who is in love with the manager of a local cereal bar, a place where folks go to buy a single bowl of obscure breakfast cereals in the morning.
Her boyfriend is essentially Dante from Clerks. He's employed beneath his ability and potential but content, even if he argues otherwise. Unlike Dante he has a girlfriend who is happy to push the issue and urge him to do more in life. This leads to friction between the two, and in response she takes a job with the rival cereal shop across the street and hi jinks ensue.
It's a cute little film, quirky and happy, with a genuine and sweet love shared between the two main characters. If there is a flaw worth mentioning it's that the end is a little Disney-esque. I don't mean it's sugary sweet; rather the third act seems to come out of nowhere to end the conflict, in direct opposition to the gradual and well crafted lead-up throughout the movie.
78 out of 100 or 3 out of 4; take your pick. (with a slight reduction in the scoring if you happen to be too old to laugh at a female lead who's name, in a movie completely devoid of sex is Ms. Pussy Katz.)
What? You thought one party was enough?
Nope, we had the family event tonight at the house.
Present were my father and the oldest of my two sisters, my mother-in-law and Lisa's step-dad, my wife's Aunt, and the six of us.
Again, it was on to presents. This was from Lisa's Aunt:
From my family Hannah Montana sheets, a chalk rake, and a Hannah Montana guitar
Lisa's Mom gave Lu a fun gift. Packed inside a box inside a bag inside wrapping paper inside more bags was a wooden box with ten brand new John Quincy Adams dollar coins. She got a kick out of unwrapping it all.
It was a casual but enjoyable party. Towards the end disaster struck. LuLu got upset with her brother and tossed down the ear microphone for the Hannah Montana guitar. It promptly broke off, but it shouldn't have. I doubt a glass would have broken with the same four inch fall in the laundry room. I scolded her even so for her ridiculous tantrum, but tried and failed to exchange it with her at Target - dang their firm gift receipt policies!
Surprisingly, she offered no screaming or crying fit when Target sent us on our way, which was unexpected but appreciated.
So, my girl is 5 years old. Yikes. Time sure does fly.
Love you Lu!
