The First Communion Party

No strangers to the posh and debonair, we held YaYa's party at the same bowling alley that had played host to Smiley's birthday bash. Long ago, in ages past, it had been used for Lisa's bridal shower, and for my sister's baby shower.





Now, it was to mark YaYa and her cousin's special day.









Get a load of these cutlery sets. Plastic sure, but of sturdy stock and pre-wrapped in a linen-like paper napkin and tied with a ribbon that resembled a communion theme. 16 of them in each box, $2.99 a box.



Soon enough, the guests began to arrive.

[BTW - Lisa's Mom sewed the tablecloths in the photos.]





Here's some of Lisa's family from northern Wisconsin, who made the trip just for YaYa.









My Dad's Aunt, her children, and my sister.





My nephew. Yeah, let's not talk about the hair.



Aunt Mabel



Lisa holding my Godmother's grandchild.









YaYa and Meadow.



My Mom talking to her Godchild Judy (on the right) and her partner of many years.



One of Caitlin's friends. What a photo-conscious girl, eh?



The Devil formerly known as the Lump



YaYa's Godfather and his wife Pam



Caitlin and Faith



Tempe and Ginger



Smiley and Tempe



Dinner was delivery from Pizza Hut, both their lasagna and chicken alfredo, along with salad. It was well received.







I cut the cake and LuLu and my sister distributed it to folks.



Meanwhile, the kids kept trying to escape.



And then the party began to wind down



And LuLu began to lose it, the first but not the last of the kids to reach the breaking point.





But a little comforting/molleycoddling did wonders, for the moment at least:



A very nice First Communion party for both girls! Congratulations!

Literal Music Videos

Over at And Rightly So they posted a sample of "literal music videos" - YouTube clips that seek to reconcile the lyrics of the song with the actual, crazy activity you see on the screen.

When done right it's a blast. When done poorly it's just cra*. The best of them seem to be the product of DustoMcNeato. Let's see if you agree.

Let's introduce the idea with an oldie - The Monkees Daydream Believer.
"And then I dance like Axel Rose/In my fruity sixties clothes". Priceless!




Here's one that's just made for the format: Bonnie Tyler's Total Eclipse of the Heart.

A thank you to Sybil

Hi, I just thought I'd pop on and post a 'live' entry in the midst of all the prerecorded stuff. Not to worry folks, just one more Communinion post before I'm through.

I do, however, want to single out Sybil for special attention. She converses (with my approval) with YaYa online, and sent her a very nice card for her Communion. You know how big of a deal it is for a kid to get mail of any kind, much less from overseas. She was thrilled.

What sticks in my mind isn't that card, but the comment Sybil made that weekend. I passed it along to YaYa, and at the church, the party, and school the next day, she made dang sure everyone knew that a church in the UK said prayers on her behalf. It made her feel very special.

Thanks for that.

Anyway, off to work. Talk to you later.

YaYa's First Communion: The After Mass Pictures

YaYa didn't much care for the picture phase of the morning, preferring to get right to the party. It was just about the only thing that didn't go her way the whole day. Here she is with us:





With my parents



With Great Aunt Mabel



With Chris and her family



With her Godfather



With Lisa's Mom and Stepfather



With my sister K



And sister C



With the one and only LuLu



With her Sunday school teacher:



With the candle we'd made in the prepatory class



And finally a pair with Father Spitz





During the photos with the priest LuLu came up and tried to get my attention. When she failed she slugged me in the leg.

"Don't hit your father" said Fr. Spitz.

She cocked her head. "He's my Dad, so uh, yeah I can!"

Nice to know I'm raising them right, huh?

Anyhow, one last note before we move on to the party. After the photos Father Spitz and I got to talking about the Swine Flu. His opinion was that it was ridiculous, even if he did go down the safe and sure route with the communion wine.

"One death out of 300 million people? You'd have worse luck walking across the street." he said.

The next day the state ordered the church and its school closed due to the Swine Flu, one of more than twenty closed in the area. It reopened, without incident, later in the week.

Agincourt

Agincourt by Bernard Cornwell
Publisher: HarperCollins
Pub. Date: January 20, 2009
ISBN-13: 9780061578915
464 pp

The battle of Agincourt, when it’s remembered outside of academia, is chiefly known as the heroic backdrop for Shakespeare’s Henry V and its legendary line ‘We few, we happy few, we band of brothers’.

In reality Agincourt was a stunning and bloody victory for the English in the fall of 1415, a triumph over stunning odds to secure Henry V the French crown he desired, but would never live to wear.

Bernard Cornwell, bestselling author of numerous historical novels, tries his hand at the battle in the simply named Agincourt. While the book may lack the signature quotes of the Bard, it establishes a poetry of its own as it brings medieval France to life on its pages.

Agincourt tells the tale of Nicholas Hook, a veteran of a destructive family feud that follows him into his service to the King. When he fails to stop his old nemesis from raping and killing a girl he strikes a priest and becomes an outlaw, seeking safety from the gallows among the archers sent to fight Henry’s war. At the defeat of Soissons he is the lone archer to escape the brutal French retaliation and helps a French girl escape the carnage - a girl that would become the focus for both the renewed feud and the terrible anger of her noble French father.

Throughout the book, from London to the wet fields of France, Nicholas is aided by the infrequent but insistent voices of St. Crispin and Crispinian, patron saints of Soissons, the French town butchered by its own army. It is on their Feast day - October 25th - that the sickly and vastly outnumbered English army meets the French on the field of Agincourt and history is made.

In the book there is no denying the greatness and wonder of the victory, and it will be difficult for a reader to distance themselves from the urge to cheer on Hook and his companions. Yet, spiritual guides aside, this is no whitewashed, censored version of history.

The campaign is brought to life with vivid depictions of the violence and filth that was a soldiers lot, a life lived in a time where dysentery and starvation were just as feared as any crossbow bolt. Without disturbing the flow of the narrative, Cornwell introduces the reader to the religious, technological, political, and social status quo of the era and its people, and the novel is that much richer for the attempt.

That holds true for his depiction of Agincourt itself. It is a miracle, true, by almost any definition, and a marvel of history. But it was also brought about by the French having to cross a muddy field ploughed deep for winter wheat; by their lack of a unified command structure; by the deadly barrage of the archers; and by the cocky bravado of the French meeting the insanely overconfident Henry head-on on an autumn day.

Agincourt is a fine read for those who love history, action, or just plain good storytelling

Smiley and the Ant Farm

You might remember reading about Smiley being swarmed by angry ants at a picnic two years ago. That's led Smiley to have a deep fear of ants and a fierce determination to stomp on them before they gang up on him again. It's calmed down now that some time has passed, but last summer it wasn't unusual for him to bring a walk to a stop just so he could have his revenge against some poor ant scout that caught his eye.

Anyhow, Lisa decided to buy him an ant farm from Target's $1 section. I'm not sure how this came about, but it was a dang good idea. One day last week Smiley and I went in the front yard and caught six or seven ants.



It was shocking how cool Smiley was with the whole process, letting the ants run around his hand while I got the cover open, then picking them up between his fingers and dropping them in. Plus he seemed to take some advice to heart. I told him to give up sifting through the grass for the ants and let them come to him. "Movement betrays motion," I said, quoting some movie line that's stuck with me for 25 years. He gauged the wisdom of this, nodded, then waited for an impatient ant to reveal itself by darting forward before swooping in for the capture.

Naturally he dropped the farm in the house, releasing the ants. No biggie, we just went out and found ourselves a new batch. As of this writing the second crop is still alive and well and scurrying in their home on our mantle.

The First Communion Mass

On the morning of Sunday May 3rd, YaYa's 1st Communion day, she had to be in church by 9:45. Lisa dispatched me to take her, while she followed later after picking up her friend Chris and her family.




I'll be honest: I was a nervous wreck. I sat and held seats in what turned out to be a reserved pew. By the time I discovered this the church was filling up and I was forced to move to seats in a side aisle. I thought this was the end of the world, but in truth it placed me and the family mere feet to the right of YaYa, with a perfect view of the proceedings.

Then there was the group photo.



As the kids lined up for it I thought YaYa's hair looked out of place. And then I was sure I was wrong. No, it was out of place. Or not. I was so rattled I tried scanning through the pictures on the camera to see if her hair matched what it looked like at home . . . and the photographer snapped the shot.



[When the official shot was taken I had the oddest feeling. I could see an elderly YaYa holding a copy of that very picture in her hands. I mean I could see her there, in my minds eye, talking to her grandkids, and for a moment the whole scene in the church held great importance. It was very nearly a feeling of deja vu, a sense that this had all been done before and I was nothing more than someone's recollection. I don't care what you think of it - it felt real, even if it was all in my head.]

Soon enough it was time to line up in the back of church. "Where's Mom?" YaYa asked. "Don't worry, she'll be here," I said, and meant it. But minutes passed, and the teacher came to me and said we had four minutes before we headed down the aisle. I'd like to say Lisa got there merely in the nick of time - and she would have, had the four minute estimate been right - but it wound up being another six or seven minute wait.

And then we marched her down the aisle, and if you think I didn't feel my heart stop, knowing I'd someday march her down the aisle again, you're nuts.







I'm afraid there's not many pictures of the church ceremony, as pictures were forbidden. We're lucky to have the ones we do, and I thank everyone for snapping away when they had the chance.







YaYa was chosen to take part in bringing up the gifts. I was very proud to see her bring forth the Communion wafers, which was a great honor.

When the moment came - THE moment - it carried with it that historical oddity that was the Swine Flu. For all her worry about the taste of the wine, and the 7 year old courage she summoned up to go through with it, on the day of the Communion the church followed the state's recommendation and skipped the Communion Wine.

I still can't believe it - First Communion without the wine. As I said before, it's not only a a blow to the sacrament, but to the ambiance and spectacle that is so central to that day. But honestly it didn't seem to matter. We watched YaYa receive the Eucharist, turn to head back to her pew with a huge smile on her face, and the next few moments were lost to tears.

Yeah, that's right. I didn't cry when the kids were born. I didn't cry at my wedding. I allowed myself to cry for my Grandma's death one time, for one minute, and no longer. It is my one overwhelming, irrational concession to machismo: a man does not cry.

And yet I teared up freely at that moment. I was just so overwhelmed, not by the day itself, but by the fact that my little girl is growing up so fast, so very very fast.

Anyhow, Fr. Spitz kept the Mass humming along, and even with the renewal of the Baptismal vows and all the ceremony it still came in at only around an hour. Pictures and a party awaited!

~ to be continued ~

LuLu's Birthday

I think LuLu's birthday went pretty well. My Mom called and sang happy birthday to her on our answering machine near midnight, and at the stroke of twelve I went and gave her a kiss on the forehead, scaring the sleeping child half to death. In the morning she woke up bright and cheerful, opened a gift, then dressed head to toe in a birthday outfit Lisa had bought her. Here she is showing off a bracelet she got as a present.





Then she took some decorated cookies to school as a treat. They were purchased from a nearby hoity-toity grocery store and so cost far and above their true worth - I'm telling you, it was obscene - but what the hell. They were beautiful.





I left for work at noon, but afterschool Lisa brought cupcakes to their Daisy meeting to celebrate, and then picked up Chris and her kids and took them all to McDonald's to play. I got home from work at 9, just after they pulled in. The first thing out of LuLu's mouth: "Dad, is that a new shirt you're wearing? It's very nice." Only the fashionista would have noticed.

Even though it was a schoolnight Lisa allowed Chris' kids to stay over, which is highly unusual for us. I sang her Happy Birthday, since I'd missed all the events of the day, and sent her upstairs. LuLu went to sleep happy and content, and I think it was a great birthday.

Her party, btw, is Saturday.

Drugs, Auto-Erotic Asphyxiation, and Free Rice. Sounds like a party to me!

Happy 5th of June everyone.

I've heard all the updated reports about David Carradine, and I must say, confusion reigns. He seems to have been in good spirits, and not at all suicidal; recent stories mention rumors of foul play.

If, as earlier stories hinted, he mistakenly killed himself in an attempt at auto-erotic asphyxiation, I don't think any less of him. It's an embarrasing and stupid way to die, but some folks will try anything for an orgasm. In the wake of yesterday's stories I even had someone I know tell me they've tried (a mild version of) it themselves.

As for myself, I have a major issue with anyone so much as touching my neck (which has always made trips to the barber contentious), so I can't imagine getting off by having a rope wrapped around my throat. But to each his own I guess.

* * * *

You'll notice I've now added all the blogs I follow to the blog list on the sidebar. If your site is NOT mentioned there, please let me know. I just find it a lot easier to notice updates in that format (newly updated sites rise to the top of the list) than with the dashboard or reader.

* * * *

I want to add several clickable images to the sidebar - you know, the Free Rice bar I had back on AOL, etc. For some reason I'm stymied, so I'd appreciate any help I can get.

* * * *

The other day, while walking with her to Walgreens, YaYa was cofused when I called it a 'drug store'. In her mind, the word 'drug' meant only illegal drugs, not 'medicine'.

And then she asked me why people take illegal drugs.

Well, what to say? When it doubt, I guess the truth will do. I've never understood anti-drug ads, teachers and parents who gloss over the obvious reason drugs are popular.

"Because they make you feel good," I said. "And they're fun for a minute. But they can hurt your body and screw up your brain. Lot's of famous people have died from drugs [I rattle off a few] and even if you don't, you can get addicted and need it every day. And since they're expensive, if you're addicted you'll go broke."

Jeez louise. Between the discussions about: drugs, sex, stranger danger, nental illness, and the Zombie War Contingency Plans, well, it's enough to drive a parent nuts.

But hopefully they'll all make a difference.

"Kung Fu" Star David Carradine Dies

I hate to post this on Lu's birthday but David Carradine, star of TV's "Kung Ku" and of the "Kill Bill" movies, is reported to have passed away in a Bangkok hotel room. He was 73.

My lifelong memory of him? Confusion. Kung Fu was on TV a lot growing up, but as a little kid in the '70's the flashback sequences completely threw me for a loop - total mind melt. It remains my primary memory of the show and its star.

RIP.

Happy 6th Birthday LuLu!

Six years ago today Lisa gave us LuLu, our largest baby and by far the easiest and calmest of the four births. It's hard to believe that little baby is now six years old, a third of the way to legal adulthood (!) but there it is - even more evidence that time passes with alarming speed as we get older.

Here's a few pics of her as we walked her to a friend's house last Thursday, holding an invitation to her upcoming party.





Happy Birthday LuLu! We Love you!

Some pics from the morning of YaYa's 1st Communion

Here are some pics of my YaYa on the morning of her First Communion, Sunday May 3rd.

After 17 miserable years, The Tonight Show is finally in the hands of someone funny. Will wonders never cease?

Huzzah! We got the kids to school this morning a mere 12 minutes late, a clear victory in my book!

* * * *

Last night, we tuned into Conan O'Brien's debut as host of The Tonight Show. The last time Lisa and I sought out the show was Carson's farewell, as even before we met we were in agreement that Leno SUCKED.

So how did Conan do? As expected there were first-time jitters and they tried too hard with a skit or two, but I give it a thumbs up. It was a funny and lively introduction into the O'Brien era. I remember Conan's debut on Late Night and trust me, this was far more impressive.

Wil Ferrell? Pearl Jam? The return (Hallelujah!) of Andy Richter? How could he go wrong?

There's a new sheriff in town boys, and it looks like Dan and Lisa might finally have a reason to watch broadcast TV after prime time.

* * * *

Last night I dreamt that I sliced open my right calf on the edge of a metal counter. In the morning I got out of bed and noticed a new, mild cut on my calf. I don't sleepwalk, and I woke up curled and snug in my blanket. Coincidence? Sure.

But if I hear kids chanting "One, two Freddie's coming for you" I'm never going to sleep again.

AOL/Blogger Oopsies

I've recently noticed that the AOL/Blogger transition didn't go as smoothly as I originally thought. Many of my older entries were pretty beat up in the move, and I've spent a few hours over the weekend getting pictures, links, and fonts back in order. So far 2004, 2005, and 2006 are 'done' - with the exception of two entries I couldn't completely fix. I'm still grateful to Blogger for getting the job done last year, but it pisses me off that (literally) scores of scrapbook entries were mauled. If I hadn't gone looking for an old entry and spotted the problem . . .

At any rate, it was neat to see the growth of this blog. On the negative end of the ledger, I loathe the stiff formality of the very first entries, the ridiculous need I felt to apologize whenever I posted something "lite", and of course, damn my soul for ever using "LOL" within a post.

On the other hand I've recorded reams of memories that would long since be lost to time, and hopefully made a nice scrapbook for the kids. Without question my writing has sharpened and improved over the years, and because of it this site had a big role in getting me the Journal gig. Best of all, I've made some great aquintances via Slapinions, and at least one good friend.

Looking over the 1000 plus entires I think one of the best decisions I made was to bump politics off to a side stage. On the web you either wind up with a dedicated core of Ditoheads (on the Left as often as on the Right), in which case you're preaching to the choir, or you swing the other way and dissolve into a mess where every post, no matter how benign, is greeted with a 100 comment battle between readers on each side of the aisle.

Hell to the no. I can't imagine how angry this site (and its author) would have become if the original focus had continued. Honestly, if that was my internet, then Al Gore could have it back. ;)

Anyway, now all I have to do is go through the 2007 and '08 entries and double-check them. And then I need to find a way to fix those two posts I mentioned. They're rather important ones too - one of Lu's birthdays, and a post I did in the Bahamas. I've got some ideas about how the pictures got messed up, and if I'm right I should be able to fix it.

Ah, I almost forgot - I haven't mentioned this before have I? - Photobucket removed a picture of Smiley because it violated their TOS. Bullshit, through and through. It was a picture of an infant Smiley as he took a bath. I don't think it even showed his man-bits, but apparently some random websurfer in the last few months came across the post and flagged me on Photobucket. There's no review or appeal process, so bye-bye picture.

Heck, most of you probably saw it three years ago, as there were comments on the post. Whatever. I've gone ahead and trimmed the text of the post to eliminate any mention of it, but memo to the Unknown Assh*le: instead of flagging pictures of infants taking a bubble bath, how about you get rid of the zillions of soft-porn worthy pics on Photobucket?

Or better yet, keep your shitty little censorship loving hands out of everyone's business.

Ginger the Destroyer

On this blog I used to call Smiley "Maker of Trouble and Mayhem", and it was true. He was far more mischievous than our oldest girls, and the cause of many a headache. In retrospect we had it easy. Ginger is, by general consensus, the most destructive baby in history.

She is a feral child. If she needs to be changed she'll get a diaper and lay down at your feet. If she is thirsty she will bring you a cup (or steal your drink). If she is hungry, she will bring you the food she wants (if she has not ripped it open herself).

For that reason I have always been grateful that she was too chicken to climb out of her crib on her own. In fact, I planned to spell out my thanks in writing here, just a few days ago.

And then it happened. I woke up and found Ginger downstairs alone. She had woken up before the rest of the family, climbed out of her crib, gone down the stairs, and destroyed our home.

This is what she did. There is no exaggeration here. No enhancement for dramatic effect. This is all her.

She tipped over a chair.

She dumped a box of Rice Krispies all over the floor.

She opened a bottle of vegetable oil and trailed it around the kitchen table before abandoning it and letting it pool out.

She ripped open a bag of popcorn seeds in the pantry.

She upended a half-empty glass of juice into Lisa's purse.

She knocked glasses and plates to the floor.

Oh man, were we furious. I wiggled my finger in her face and called her a naughty baby, the worst baby ever. She took it without blinking. Lisa joined in, telling her she'd spend the morning in the playpen if she didn't behave. Ginger's response? She mimicked me, waving a finger at Lisa and saying "NO!".
In the playpen she went, the first time in months we've even set the thing up. She tried and failed to climb out, then spent the morning playing with her toes or crying to be let out.

I think listening to that was more of a punishment for us than for her.

I surveyed the family and the consensus is, yeah, she's a crazy kid. My Dad said she yanked all his potted plants out of their containers. "I don't remember any of the grandkids being that destructive," he said - and he has seven.

All this, and we're still months shy of reaching the terrible twos. God help us all.