A Time of Reckoning

Last Post

2011-10-23T16:02:00.000-07:00

I'm in the process of building a new blog site called, Daddy-O of The Patio. Everything from this blog has been imported to that one, and going forward I'll be posting only to the Daddy-O blog.

Reason for the change? I started the ATOR blog as a way to plug in to the writing community. What I ended up doing; more than anything, was chronicling my life as a parent of twins. Now I'm more interested in leaving a record of life as I knew it for my girls to look back on when they grow up. If they so choose...

This past summer Kelly got me a plaque that says "Daddy-O of the Patio;" subsequently, I started referring to myself as such and now the kids often refer to me that way. If the shoe fits....

A Time of Reckoning sounds kind of dark and ominous for some people given that it's really a family friendly, parenting sympathetic, look at life. Having said that, I'm currently going through the process of finalizing ATOR, the novel, and will be posting the last half of the book on the new blog. Plus I've got another novel project underway and ideas for more. The only thing missing has been the time to pursue all this, but that's slowly starting to turn in my favor.

Here's the link to my new blog: Daddy-O of The Patio

I hope to see you there.

Thursday: Simple Pleasures

2011-10-22T08:34:00.000-07:00

I've said for awhile that it's the simple things that make life worth living. Like my morning coffee. I had to skip that on Thursday because I was fasting for my annual physical. Afterward however, after about sixteen hours of fasting, I enjoyed one of my favorite routines: getting my haircut then walking across the parking lot for lunch at Kidd Valley. And after that: Happy Hour at DaKeg. What a day.

Kelly of course was working. I dropped the girls off with Auntie Kathy in the morning. Wouldn't you know it; we go through this routine almost on a weekly basis and it's usually a pain to get them herded in to the Suburban. This week, when I'm not under the gun to get to work, they hopped aboard with no problem. I got to Kathy's place so early there was time for me to stop at an ATM and the library before going to Overlake for my appointment.

I got a parking ticket in the hospital parking lot. Turns out the Jeep is registered as a staff vehicle and I had parked in a patient only area. They didn't know the spouse of the staff member was on site as a patient. So now I have to write a letter.

Anyway, I got through the appointment and called Kelly. She happened to be in the cafeteria on her lunch break. I sat with her for awhile before heading up to Crossroads for my haircut. The place has a dozen chairs or so and usually six barbers working at any given time. I don't care which of them cuts my hair, they all do fine. The owner is a Hawaiian woman and most of her staff is related; son-in-law, a nephew, etc, and most of the staff is Korean. The owner told me one time while I was in her chair that before hiring anyone they have to cut one of the other barbers' hair who works there because he has some tricky quaff requirements. With the family feel and the type of clientele, it's a real laid back vibe.

And then it was time for Kidd Valley. I always hit this place either on the front end or tail end of their lunch crowd, so the small staff is in full stride cranking out the burgers. They cook them over an open flame. I get the double cheeseburger and a coke. No fries. Fries do me in. They have great shakes too but I've been staying away. Again, it's overkill. Nope, just the burger and a coke. I especially like it for some unknown reason when I'm sitting in a booth by a window and it's raining outside. I go to my happy place. It's close to the way I feel when we've stayed at the Best Western, in Seaside, and I'm sitting in the hot tub after a big breakfast at Pig-n-Pancake and watching the pouring rain batter the window of the pool room. Feels so good.

I was home doing revisions to ATOR and sipping a glass of Chardonnay when Kelly called around 3:00. She wanted to know if I was up for a visit to DaKeg. Yes, I've gone over the missing "it" factor and all that but what the hell? She was going to try and recruit John too.

They were waiting for me with vodka martini's. I wavered for a second; preferring to stick with wine, before giving in to my bad self. Kevin, longtime server and personal friend was working. We had a relaxing, laugh filled visit. The martinis were followed by a glass of wine. Kelly left to pick up the girls while John and me stayed behind for a second glass.

The fasting; the Kidd Valley; and the martini, ganged up on me after the girls went to bed. I don't really remember the bedtime routine. It was uneventful I think. There were shows on the DVR to catch up on but I kept nodding off, happily tired from a day full of simple pleasures.

Wednesday: Clean Slate

2011-10-21T07:51:00.000-07:00

One thing I've noticed about being a parent is, I may have a miserable day; like Tuesday, but the very next day could very well turn out lovely. Like Wednesday. I usually notice this trend on the weekends. Not so much anymore be we definitely went through a phase when I could predict how Sunday was going to go by judging the day before. So I would either wake up with trepidation that Sunday was going to suck because Saturday went so well, or I'd wake up relieved because it couldn't get any worse. So on Wednesday the slate was clean. I even had reason to be optimistic. I won't go as far as to say it was a boring day, just that it was pleasantly uneventful.

I was a little worried when the girls woke up and didn't get dressed for school right away. Instead they were playing with their dolls out in the living room. I thought oh boy, this is going to be a struggle to get them in to their clothes and out the door. But it wasn't.

I didn't do much with my free time. Those three hours sure slip away in a hurry. The girls were chatty as I loaded them in the Suburban in the school parking lot. Across the way, their new friend, Grace and her twin brother, Hunter, were getting in their van. Allison and Emily always like to say goodbye so I rolled the window down and pulled around to where they were parked. "Bye Grace!" they screamed at the top of their lungs. They claim they only like Hunter a little bit because he's a boy, but they yelled goodbye to him too.

Emily immediately changed in to her purple princess gown when we got home. They played around upstairs for a long time. At 3:00 I declared it Happy Hour and poured myself a glass of wine. At 4:00 we all went downstairs to watch TV. I've learned that the late afternoon is when they start to reach the outer boundaries of their energy, and so if I let them watch TV they're more open to settling down for some quiet time and to having something to eat. This particular day it was pancakes topped with Nutella. They each had four plus a heaping spoonful of Nutella on the side. I may have dozed as they watched The Backyardigans.

Kelly came home around 5:00. While she sat on the couch next to the girls to catch up on their day, I went upstairs and started a bath. I've taken to bringing a space heater in there too to really make it nice and toasty. I had the water pretty warm too, warm enough that they spent a good 45 minutes in there.

Emily got out, Kelly dried her off, applied a coat of baby oil, and got her in her pajamas. Allison didn't want to get out of the tub. I coaxed her out with my offer of a double towel wrap with back rub. As I held her all wrapped up in bath towels, Kelly and Emily massaged Allison's feet with baby oil. She turned docile, in to a rag doll in fact.

I got her in her pajamas, carried her out to the living room still wrapped in warm towels, and sat with her in my arms. She fell asleep. It was 6:30. Kelly asked why I didn't carry her in to her room and put her to bed. I said because it was so nice to hold her when she was in this peaceful state of being. I may have dozed off too. An hour later I carried her down the hall. When I put her to bed she didn't protest, didn't even wake up, just rolled over to her side and curled up.

Emily slept in her own room and didn't last much longer. I was out the door for my walk before 8:00. Came home to a plate of nachos and the latest episode of NCIS, LA.

Shennagians Driving Me Bannaigans

2011-10-19T08:07:00.000-07:00

Tuesday was a day off work for Kelly, the only one scheduled this week. It was also the usual day Captain Ryan spends with us. His dad dropped him off around 9:00. With a magnificent day of weather emerging, I suggested a return trip to George's Bakery, in North Bend, followed by an excursion to Rattlesnake Lake. It was a good thought. The execution, not so much.

You could see; if you really looked, the signs that it wasn't going to be the heartwarming outing of a week ago. When we told the kids our plans, the first thing Emily did was climb up in my lap and with her face about an inch away from mine, she put dibs on being let out of the Suburban first and sitting by me in the bakery. What is this preoccupation with being first?

It was downhill from there, at least for me. The girls wanted chocolate glazed donuts and the bakery was out. We settled for cookies. The park maintenance crew had just arrived at the lake a few minutes before us and were busy polluting the scene with noise from their lawnmowers, blowers, and trimmers. Worst of all, the girls wouldn't listen to a damn thing we said.

Kelly told Emily to exit the truck from her own door but when I opened mine she came sliding out. Allison deliberately stepped on a caterpillar despite being given direct orders to let it cross the path unimpeded. I watched it happen, hung my head as I turned around and trudged along. Kelly first yelled at Allison then had a few words for me for not saying anything.

I had checked out mentally. Kelly's words snapped me briefly back in to the moment. You can tell how much adversity I'm under by the degree of stupidity spewing out of my mouth. Clearly, I was drowning.

I asked Allison how she would like it if I stepped on her the way she stepped on that caterpillar.

"Don't step on me," she said.

Then I vowed to flush any future ideas for outings. Allison started in with her "Daddy wait!" routine. I finally spun around and shouted, "F*ck!" which stunned my family to a dead stop on the trail. I spun back around. I could hear Allison say, "I want to go home."
"Join the crowd," I muttered.

We walked along in silence, the sunshine and a warm breeze flickering through the trees. Allison stepped up her pace trying to make up the distance I intentionally put between us. "I want to hold your hand," she said.

I let her. My mood softened for a bit. The kids shed their coats and played on the rocks.

I was still fuming. Pouting in fact. Wallowing in self-pity. But I tried not to say anyting else as stupid as I 'd already done, or that I would regret later, and just let the kids have some fun. That was the whole point of the trip, after all.

But stupidity continued on the way back to the truck. This time there were hard feelings over sticks. That's right, goddamn sticks. Emily picked one up on the trail and Allison wanted one. There were about a million sticks in the brush. I dug one out for Allison. She didn't like it. I offered to customize it. Still not good enough. She wanted Emily's and only Emily's would do. Emily liked the one I had customized for Allison and took that one, freeing hers up for Allison. Now, Ryan wanted one, a long stick like Emily's. And so it went, us taking forever on the trail because of me constantly pulling out sticks, breaking them off, offering them to the kids, being rejected, them making trades. And in the end, when we got to the part of the trail where you can climb up on a boardwalk, the kids hucked their sticks off in to the bushes to be lost and forgotten.

We were a long ways from being done with the shenanigans. Getting them in the truck was a minor fiasco. We had stupidly brought a mere two bottles of water, causing an issue with sharing. Threats were issued all around to get everyone a turn. At one point I told Allison I was going to haul her out of the truck and leave her behind if she didn't give Ryan a drink. Another time, when she refused to get in her car seat I grabbed her by the collar and physically moved her. And now the park maintenance crew was loading their gear back up in their trucks. What timing....

I was mentally exhausted by the time we got home. It was 3:00. The kids watched TV and played downstairs while Kelly fixed me a Lemon Drop. Through all of this, they seemed like they were having a good day. It was me with the problem.

The problems continued at bedtime. I supervised teeth brushing and when they played around with the water, and Emily made a big blue beard of toothpaste, and Allison was spitting, I went bananas, grabbing their toothbrushes away from them, and ordering them out of my sight.

I followed Allison in to her room. She had laughed at my outburst and now wanted me to read to her. I told her no way, neither one of them deserved any kind of reward for the way they'd acted and not listened. It was game over, lights out. And with that I removed myself and went downstairs.

Kelly came down a few minutes later. She told me that they wanted to say goodnight to me. Warily, I went to their rooms. I was not in a conciliatory mood and not about to forgive anybody for anything. We did though, have a nice chat.

And then to top off the day, they tried pulling a stall tactic on me by requesting a glass of milk. At this point they were both in Allison's bed and tag teaming me. "No way," I said, throwing my hands in the air. "Good night."

They knew the score. There was no protests or followups.

ATOR: Final Revisons Underway

2011-10-18T16:29:00.000-07:00

This week of time off from work is delightfully void of home improvement projects. And so this morning, with time on my hands, I revisited A Time of Reckoning. After being undecided on which direction to go with my writing; revise ATOR, continue on with my latest project, or pursue my latest idea, I decided to finish A Time of Reckoning.

The first 100 pages are fine as far as I'm concerned. That covers about ten chapters which have been picked apart by my writing group back in the day and duly re-written. Some of them multiple times.

There was a bigger issue at stake. That is, some people don't like the main character. And so I was trying to make him more reader friendly. Chapter One has been revisited, re-invented, and re-thought, to the point of wanting to chuck the whole project in despair. In the end I've decided to go with what Janet Lee Carey said back on the first day I ever set foot in her writing class. That is, it's my story; no need to apologize for it and more importantly, tell it the way I want to. Reader friendly? Who the hell is going to end up reading this thing anyway? Probably just me. With that mindset, I'm forging through the revision process.

Monday:: Unscathed

2011-10-18T16:10:00.000-07:00

A little singing ends their day at preschool.

I'm in a use-it-or-lose-it situation with my vacation time. So I decided to take this week off. That gave Kelly the chance to pick up some extra shifts. She's working four days this week and was kind of nervous about working that many days in one week. It's been awhile. I on the other hand was a bit nervous about taking care of the girls while she was away. We both got through Day 1 unscathed.

Kelly gave me the lowdown on dropping the girls off at preschool. Basically, get there at the last minute to miss the traffic jam and don't dally once you get to the room. While the girls are finding their seat assignments on the mat, sign them in and make a run for it. Mission accomplished.

I hit Safeway after the drop off then ditzed around a bit before going out and working on my riverbed, which has been in need of some weed control. Next thing I knew, three hours had slipped away and it was time to pick up the girls.

Kathy said she was going to take Ryan to the McDonald's in Issaquah; the one with the premium playland, and I sad fine, we'd tag along. I ordered two Happy Meals for the girls. Four chicken nuggets and some fries in a green Halloween bucket that included some stickers. The girls inspected the bucket and stickers, then left the food behind to go play. Meanwhile I ordered a couple McDoubles for myself. It was the first time I had anything from McDonald's in a long time. It was my first meal of the day too. With a blazing appetite and a clean palette, I dug in. I was surprised that even though the burgers were fine; especially given that they only cost a buck apiece, my taste buds were sensing a lot of salt. that's probably how it's always been but it was the first time I noticed.

Usually when I'm there the place is packed because it's usually a rainy Saturday afternoon or on a school holiday. This time the place was basically deserted. There were three other girls there, all about three years old. Ryan was the only boy. The kids quickly bonded and sat in one of the playland's compartments where they had a gab session.

I diddled around on the way home, following Newport Way all the way in to Factoria. At it's end, the road empties out onto Factoria Boulevard. I wonder what the odds were that I would have gotten behind Kelly as I made the turn. But I did. At the girls request, I waited until we both were on Coal Creek Parkway then barged over to the next lane and blew by her. They like to be first, after all.

Once home I fell asleep on the couch while the girls watched TV. That's when they decided to eat their Happy Meals. Kelly took them upstairs around 5:00. Her order for Halloween costumes had arrived via UPS. The girls tried on new princess dresses and accessories while I vegged out watching Monday Night Football. I love MNF though I rarely have the opportunity to watch.  It just feels good to chill out on a Monday night in Fall and watch some football.

I did make an appearance upstairs. Allison had within five minutes, broken the new magic wand that had come with the dresses.  Kelly showed them how to pop the air bubbles in the plastic wrap inside the packing box. That was a lot of fun. When their thumbs gave out, the girls laid the plastic sheets out on the kitchen floor and stomped on them.

Even though I had the day off work, I didn't have the energy; or maybe it was the desire, to go for a walk after the girls went to bed. We opened a Chardonnay and watched Dancing With The Stars.  My memory is spotty after that, as I was in out of sleep before we ended up calling it a night.

Emily held court with the other visitors to McDonald's playland.

Sunday: Twists and Turns

2011-10-17T08:02:00.000-07:00

Allison is looking at the Dora The Explorer book. It's her favorite.

After a lazy day of drinking coffee and cleaning up my riverbed, the girls returned from their sleepover around 3:00. The rest of the afternnon and evening was filled with emotional twists and turns. We watched Peter Pan on DVD; played Who's The Boss; and in a surprise ending to the evening, the girls went to bed in separate rooms.

They weren't in to Peter Pan at first, mostly because they are used to animated movies. But the special effects soon drew them in. Allison snuggled in with me on the loveseat about halfway through, while Emily climbed up on Kelly's lap in the recliner. All was lovey-dovey until we went upstairs for a snack. Allison wanted me to go get her a Kleenex. And the wheels came off.

That's when Kelly took over in our version of "Who's The Boss." Allison started in with the fake crying, got sent to her room for it, and I retreated in a suicidal mood back to the family room. Those tantrums that have no basis drive me to the dark side of insanity. Kelly on the other hand, dug in her heels. "It ends here," she said.

Allison amazes me with the intensity and duration of her tantrums. And yet she is no match for Kelly when it comes to a showdown over who's running the show. Undaunted and determined to get Allison through this developmental phase of establishing boundaries, Kelly let her cry alone in her room. When Allison finally settled down, Kelly went in there, set the record straight on the family pecking order, told Allison she loved her, gave her a hug, and let her out.

From there peace and happiness ruled the evening. The girls played pretend with their dolls and toy kitchen. I emerged from my cave.

Somewhere along the line the girls decided to sleep in their own rooms. Maybe they're a step closer to being ready for that degree of separation. Emily likes to get up early while Allison likes to sleep in. Allison likes to surround herself with her dolls and animals and pull the blankets over her head. Emily is more of a minimalist. They both gravitate toward the middle of the bed and most nights they wake up; even if it's only for a minute or two, because they're crowding each other.

And so they each picked out their school clothes, hung them on their respective dressers, and Kelly and I went back and forth reading with and chatting to them. After lights out they took turns getting up to check on each other but eventually settled back down. I thought for sure they'd end up in Allison's room together, but they each fell asleep in their own.

With her school clothes hung on the knobs of a dresser drawer, Emily settled in to bed with Winnie and a book.

Saturday: A Peaceful, Easy Feeling

2011-10-16T07:56:00.000-07:00

Kelly enjoying a peaceful afternoon on Camano Island.

The girls had a sleepover at their grandparents on Saturday. It was set up by Kelly so her and I could attend a retirement party for one of her coworkers. And it turned out to be a timely break from parenting.

I say "timely" because the girls have worn me out with their arguing over every iota in life. For example, recently when I've picked them both up at the same time they've argued over who gets which shoulder. When I put them down they argue over the order of de-boarding my arms.

They both want to be first at everything. We have a couch in the family room that comfortably seats three adults and they argue over two inches of it. They order me to wait for them when I leave the room; they expect me to fetch them Kleenex, and their shoes, and to find their missing toys. Every day there are showdowns. Every day is a battle of wills. I find myself walking around the house saying, "Are you shitting me?" Two nights ago we were going to do our usual choo-choo train down the hall and they started arguing over who stood behind who. "Are you telling me," I blurted out in frustration, "that we can't even form a goddamn line without getting in to an argument?" It's exhausting. And so I was ready for them to have a sleepover.

The retirement party was an afternoon affair on Camano Island. That's about an hour or so north of us. The freeway was wide open and my bummed out mood dissipated as the sun began to burn off the morning fog.

Kelly's coworker, Irene, retired, and her and her husband sold their 2,000 square foot Renton house and moved in to a 3,000 square foot, three story beauty of a house on Camano that overlooks Puget Sound. The main floor is in the middle and a deck wraps around the front of it. Kelly and I sat out there for awhile away from the rest of the group, with a glass of wine and just luxuriated. It felt like being on a resort. Irene wandered over and remarked that she was glad we came. We told her the problem was going to be getting us to leave.

It was an older crowd. In fact, Kelly was the youngest by miles, followed by me. Even the crew from the hospital is significantly older than Kelly. Nurses (like Kelly) who have paid their dues in ICU and ER units and are now riding out their careers in the less stressful day surgery environment. I appreciate people who've been around the proverbial block, know the score, and can chuckle about it. It makes for a refreshing lack of posturing. You know how it can be when you go to some parties and people want to tell you about their latest business trip to Japan; or how important they are to the project they're working on, or how smart and successful their kids are. In those scenarios I just smile and nod and keep my wine glass full to dull the pain. That was not the case on Saturday although I did keep my wine glass full.

We got home at 6:30. With the girls out of our hair, what to do? We thought about the Northlake but a Husky game had just ended (They beat Colorado 52-24, way to go Dawgs!), we thought about surprising our old friends Tim and Alycia, but didn't have the energy to go to Freemont; we didn't have the energy to sit through a movie either. Kelly decided we should grab a bottle of wine and a loaf of garlic bread, and settle in. Sounded like a winner to me.

On the way to the store we diverted to DaKeg. The bar was busy but not overwhelmed. We were waited on by a new server, Olivia. She was fine. Still, something was missing. The "it" factor. It's just not the same experience. In my mind I remember DaKeg in a certain way, with a certain fondness. The bar menu looks to have improved; they show Pac-12 football games on their flat screens; the wine's good. But overall, "it' is not the same. We bailed after a glass of wine and an appetizer.

The trip to Camano and the peace and quiet brought me crashing down. Kelly made a plate of salami and cheese, cut us each a chunk of the hot garlic bread, and poured us a glass of Chardonnay. I may have wanted to do more with my free night, but I got what I really needed--rest.

Happy Hours And Yellow Tails: A Tale of Change

2011-10-13T05:59:00.000-07:00

As everyone who knows me or reads my blog knows, I like sitting in the bar of The Keg, in Factoria (aka, "DaKeg"). On the days Kelly works we often rendezvous there for Happy Hour. For the past ten years or so it's been my Happy Place. Alas, the only thing constant in this life is change.

Don't get me wrong, I drive by DaKeg every day on my way home from work and it's all I can do to not pull in for a couple glasses of wine. Right now I'm still in to light, refreshing, Chardonnays. Kelly has been buying Yellow Tail on her Safeway shopping excursions. It's a bit fruity, but totally enjoyable at 4:00 in the afternoon. A bottle goes for about $6. That's about the same price as a single glass of the house Chardonnay (Cypress Hill?) at DaKeg's Happy Hour price.

So lets think about this--I can get a whole bottle of wine at the grocery store for the same price as one glass at DaKeg. If then, Kelly and me split a bottle; two glasses each, that would be equivalent to $24 for the privilege of having someone pour us a couple glasses and bring them to our table, versus us sitting on our deck and doing the self-serve routine for $6. Just doesn't make sense to dish out that extra $20 every time we want to drink some wine.

The other thing is, with kids now, and the fact DaKeg has like all places like it experienced considerable turnover over the years, added together we're not in the same place and it's not the same experience it used to be. Sure, if someone wanted to meet me there for wine and chit chat once in awhile I'd hop on board, but generally speaking, I'm open to the inevitable change life is bringing.

Remembering Columbus Day 1997

2011-10-10T10:39:00.000-07:00

I graduated from the University of Washington in the spring of 1997.   The next step was fully transitioning from being a baker to an accountant. My only relevant experience was a bookkeeping stint for a furniture showroom at the Seattle Design Center. What I learned there was basically how to not run a business.

What I knew for sure when it came to a career in accounting is that I didn't want to work as an auditor. I pictured myself sitting at a metal desk in a shabby office in the basement of a warehouse, or some such place.  After some consideration and deliberation, I signed on with Robert Half Accountemps.

My first assignment was in North Bend, in a tiny office next to a bait shop. My employer was Consolidated Hydro (aka CHI), based out of Connecticut.  I was in a regional office that accounted for a dozen hydro projects along the west coast and in Idaho.  Looking back, I clearly see now that I didn't know squat about accounting back then even though I had a degree in it. That's not to take anything away from the UW Business School. It was rigorous and challenging to say the least. In fact, they come at you from the standpoint that you are calling the shots, and so you learn from a more managerial, theoretical perspective rather than an in the trenches, processing through the system dweeb like me. Plus, I'm a hands on kind of guy and to date I'd only seen pieces of accounting, fragments of financial statements, and was wholly unfamiliar with any bonafide accounting software system.   The old saying is so true about there being no substitute for experience. But that was merely a temporary problem. I had experienced the same situation when I got out of baking school and started working in a real bakery. That time, what had taken ten students including me all day to crank out in a learning environment, I quickly learned to crank out by myself in an eight hour shift where real dollars were on the line.

In my heyday as a baker I pulled down $13/hour as a manager. My first gig as a newly minted accountant, as a temp on the lowest rung in the place, paid $15/hour. I was in heaven. I worked that temp assignment from July to Columbus Day, at which time CHI hired me on as permanent staff. I went from hourly to salary and have never looked back (and never want to go back). And just as sweet as the pay was the hours; Monday through Friday, 8-5. After twenty plus years with either weird days off or no days off; working all crazy shifts, this new gig made me feel like a normal person with a normal life. I stayed at CHI for six years.

I find myself looking back with gratitude for the CHI experience. It was both a milestone and a turning point. And it started in earnest 14 years ago today.

A Lovely Sunday In North Bend

2011-10-10T09:13:00.000-07:00

The good news is, nobody (in my family) puked this weekend. And I can honestly go as far as to say I enjoyed Sunday. Not that Saturday was particularly unpleasant, it was just uneventful in a way that reminded me of a long stint in the corral. (Refer to my 2009 blog posts for more on The Corral.)

I went for a walk in the rain to start my Sunday morning. When I got back to the house an hour later I figured we'd be off to IKEA for meatballs and lingon berries. Kelly mentioned North Bend. I liked that idea better.

Last year we drove through North Bend nearly every Saturday afternoon on our runs up and down I-90, as a way to get Allison and Emily to take a nap. And every time we got to North Bend I wished we could stop at the bakery on the old Main Street, but the girls were always fast asleep in their car seats and if there is anything I have learned as a parent it is not to wake a sleeping baby.

I found street parking right in front of the bakery. The place was deserted. It's has a real old school feeling, with little tables, mismatched chairs, and walls full of photos with a local flavor. We admired the goodies before settling on a dozen donuts and a slab of something that looked like a cross between a quiche and a deep dish pizza. The girl behind the counter told us it was Strata, and described it as an Italian bread pudding. Talk about comfort food. I told Kelly I'd love to settle in to the family room on a rainy afternoon with a pan of that stuff. Even the usually picky Allison was digging in. We followed that with a donut. The girls each got after a choco iced round while Kelly and I each tackled an apple fritter.

Right there would have been enough. I could have gone home and been totally satisfied. Instead, I ventured on to nearby Rattlesnake Lake. The water was a gray/green/blue sheet of glass; with the ridge behind the lake disappearing in to a cloud. I regretted forgetting my camera.

The summer crowds are long gone. Fine by us. I love these kinds of weather days; to me, they define living in the Pacific Northwest. A guy was slinging a ball in to the lake for his black lab. A couple guys were fishing, hikers came and went along the trail to the ridge. Allison and Emily wanted to check things out. We walked from one side of the lake to the other, where they had a blast climbing on the gigantic rocks dotting the shoreline. The clouds closed in, the breeze kicked up, the colors reflecting off the lake were amazing. The girls wanted to make camp. It was a lovely time. But with the threat of rain we made our way back to the Suburban.

We all crashed in the family room to watch some Berenstein Bears episodes on DVD. I snoozed through most of it. Kelly put the girls in the bath while I watched Sunday Night Football. Bedtime brought the only trying moment of any signifcance: Allison wasn't, in her mind anyway, ready for lights out even though she wasn't really reading the book she held. She just was just stalling. I hung my head and left the room, unable and unwilling to deal with her crying charade. Kelly closed the deal. Within five minutes of her coming down to the family room, Allison was standing at the top of the stairs, tearfully calling for Daddy.

This time it wasn't a game. She was upset that for one thing, she didn't get her way even with the tears; and second of all, that I walked out and didn't come back. It left her needing some reassurance that we were still cool. Emily of course was right in there too. We had a snuggle session on the couch before I carried them back to their room.

The four of us sitting in that old bakery then walking along a quiet lake in the midst of a gloriously gray fall afternoon--it warmed my heart.

Saturday: I'll Miss Days Like This

2011-10-10T09:03:00.000-07:00

Grandpa barking instructions to Aaron.

Someday I'll miss days like Saturday. I know I will. We watched Aaron play soccer; we went out for Mexican food after, and we followed that with a quiet afternoon of Allison and Emily sleeping on my lap. Nevertheless, I sure was glad to turn off the light in their room for beddy-byes.

And I had a knowing chuckle during the post soccer match meal at Ricardo's. We could tell the girls were not 100%; they've each been dealing with a minor cold; they didn't have a lot of energy; and they wanted me to carry them from the soccer field back to the Jeep (I did). After changing our minds a few times we decided to join the rest of the group for lunch. Allison sat on my lap the entire time, but other than that she was fine, as was Emily. So was Aaron for that matter. It was none other than the normally model citizen, Captain Ryan, who wasn't a happy camper.

I'm not sure what his issue was; something to do with what was on his plate as far as I could tell. Eric did his best to make it right. But it was too late. Ryan took a bite and didn't like what was in his mouth. In the course of trying to pull it out, I think he may have triggered his gag reflex. Next thing he knew he was puking on Eric.

Poor Eric. He's sitting there with this huge platter of food that he can't dig in to; and worse, his kid is puking on him. That's the part where I let out a chuckle. Only because it wasn't me. But it has been in the past, so I could relate.

All day long the girls were going on about wanting to see John and Kirsten. However, they were out cold when the Zable's arrived. And they stayed out for quite some time. When they finally came around, it took awhile to boot back up. But oh boy, boot up they did. By their usual bedtime they were fully charged. Oh well, it was Saturday night. An hour or so past their normal time for lights out is okay with Kelly and me.

I really hadn't done much all day other than absorb the girls physical weight and emotional needs. That was enough to put me out. I could barely stay awake while we finished our wine and watched TV.

Post game meal at Ricardo's. That's Eric's sister, Kim next to him.

I'm always surprised at how good Aaron is with the girls.

Parenting: In Search of The Middle Ground

2011-10-06T12:23:00.000-07:00

I feel cheap, used, exploited, run over. It's my own fault. I've over corrected as a parent.  Just thinking out loud here...

Used to be when it was time to take Allison and Emily over to Auntie Kathy's for babysitting while Kelly and I worked, I would march them to their room and not let them out until they were dressed. This caused a lot of tension. Often I ended up yelling. Swats on the ass were frequent. Occasionally, suffering from pure, raw tension, I threw things. By the time I finally got them dropped off I was physically drained. Worse, I felt like crap over the way I had acted toward them.

Our routine evolved. I began to let them go to Auntie Kathy's in their pajamas if they wanted.  Shoes and coats were optional.  Instead, I stuffed a backpack with extra clothes for when they got around to feeling like getting dressed. And still I would end up frustrated by their last minute demands to bring certain toys, pals, or requests for snacks. And I would literally be sweating from all my trips up and down the stairs.

Today I offered them pancakes and sausages for breakfast. Categorical rejection. Allison requested Cheerios then changed her mind as I was looking for her cereal bowl. Ended up they both wanted a cheese sandwich from which they picked off the cheese and left the bread. Standard Operating Procedure. I was unfazed.

The kicker was when I finally had them in the Jeep ready to go. Emily said she wanted a Root Beer float. Does giving a three year old a Root Beer float to drink in the back of a Jeep sound like a good idea? But that's what I did. And even then she started to complain because I think she wanted Orange Soda but probably picked up the negative vibe swarming my soul, and so she settled for the Root Beer.

I thought, this is the absolute limit. I'm not calling the shots anymore. Time to regroup. There has got to be a middle ground. I don't have to get loud; I don't have to be overrun by frustration, but I may have to endure their torturous crying act. Once they realize it's to no avail though, stands to reason they'll give it up.

Thing is, they sing a different tune for Kelly. That's because she's stern; she draws a proverbial line in the sand and doesn't give an inch. She's immune to their whiny, tear laden routine when they don't get their way. Nowadays, they get up on their own and get dressed on their own while she sleeps. She's endured and has established the upper hand.

To me that awful crying routine is a bit in my mouth and a bridle around my neck by which they lead me. It was never more evident than this morning. And now I've signed up to be Mr. Mom four days in one week later this month.  I've got to find the middle ground where I don't cross over to the dark side, yet I don't let them jerk my chain either.

I'm lost. Last night I remarked in a moment of despair that I'll never make it as a parent. Kelly reminded me that my mom made it.  True dat.

Patman, it's time to toughen up, take the brunt of their tears, knowing it's a ruse, a ploy, a game. Time to take the pain and reap the gain. And find the middle ground.

Why I Watch Dancing With The Stars

2011-10-06T06:20:00.000-07:00

It seems strange that I would like the show Dancing With The Stars. I only started watching because a few seasons ago Chuck Liddell was a contestant. I got hooked. Kelly enjoys it too. Savvy producers..

Anyway, what keeps me coming back; even though I've never cast a vote, is the music, the personalities, and the fact it's about as close to live TV as it gets. We see the flubs, wardrobe malfunctions, and occasional spats. Even better, the show frequently produces profound moments like this past Monday.

The theme of the show was " Most Memorable Year." The stars had to tell a story of why a particular year in their life was the most memorable, then set that story to a dance. There were several really good moments in this show, but the most emotional was the story of J.R. Martinez.

J.R. is a veteran of the Iraq war. He was seriously injured when his vehicle hit a land mine. He talked about his journey to recovery, complete with photos, and chose a song called, "If You're Reading This," to which his story was choreographed by his professional dance partner, Karina.

I don't know how many seasons we've been watching the show now; five or six maybe, but this dance brought the loudest, longest, teariest, ovation I've ever seen. A real person, a real story, and real emotion. And that's what makes the show worth watching.

How Fast Does Time Fly? 12 mph

2011-10-05T08:30:00.000-07:00

Last night reminded me of days gone by when we used to put the kids to bed then make a 100 subsequent trips back to their room for whatever reasons they decided to summon us for. This is the part where I take over, as Kelly is usually completely spent and looking forward to her down time. Me, I enjoy the rapport--for the most part which is to say once we get past the belly-aching.

It started with Allison bitching that Emily was taking all the covers. "I want to hide," said Allison. Explanation: lately she's been surrounding herself with all her pals then pulling the covers over her head. She also doesn't like it when Emily gets diagonal and their feet collide. These two issues caused a lot of crying on Allison's part last night. So much so I pulled her out of the bed and held her so she'd calm down.

Of course Emily wanted in my arms too. Out to the living room we went.  I stood in front of the window and we looked out in to the darkness for bunnies on the lawn.  Things took a turn toward being civil again.  I sat down on the couch with both of them on my lap. Their most recent school projects; pieces of paper cut out in the shapes of fish, are taped to the window.  The neighbor's porch light reflected in such a way that a shadow of one of Emily's fish showed on the curtain pulled across the opposite window. The girls argued over who's fish it was showing on the curtain.

We got through it, finally. Back to bed for the girls. Kelly and I retreated downstairs to watch NCIS, which we had on our DVR.  There was just enough margarita mix left in the bucket to fill two glasses. We toasted our free time, I brought the glass up for my first sip and--Allison started yelling from her room.

Upstairs I went. That trip led to carrying them both out to the kitchen for a glass of milk. Back to bed. I managed one sip of my margarita and couple minutes of NCIS before getting summoned again.  This time I had to carry them both back out to the living room for more bunny watching and a bit of chit chat. By the time I got back downstairs, an hour had elapsed. And yet we were only 12 minutes in to NCIS.

The summoning continued. Next time was a total ruse: Emily said her bum was sore.  "Do you want some cream on it?" I asked even though I knew she was pulling my leg. Whatever it takes, I figured. She nodded yes with a mischievous smile. Allison presided over the procedure, watching closely as I applied some Vaseline. "Get it in the middle," she instructed me. I complied. "Is that better Emily?" I asked. "Not yet," she replied. Another squeeze from the tube got the job done.

Well, not exactly done. I was summoned yet again. Now two hours since starting up NCIS and we hadn't made it half way through the show.  This time Allison was starting up her tired song about being crowded by Emily. In the course of negotiating a settlement, they quizzed me on my attire; no shirt and a pair of jeans.  They ended up following me in to the bedroom and picking out my pajamas.

I finally got them settled back in bed, where I explained that they would both someday have their own beds and nobody would be crowding nobody but for now they needed to learn how to give each other space and make do. By this time they seemed to finally have their fill of summoning Daddy-O of The Patio, and started yawning.

Kelly and I eventually watched the entire episode of NCIS and even squeezed in Dancing With The Stars before dropping exhausted in to bed just before midnight.

Allison Bounces Back

2011-10-02T21:01:00.000-07:00

Allison feeling better. She was excited to wear that Elmo shirt today. Mommy washed the puke off it for her while she slept off a bug.

Kids are so resilient. When I last posted, Allison was sleeping in Mommy's place in the bed while Kelly was curled up next to her, ready for whatever. Allison had puked multiple times, pooped her pants, coughed and heaved and in general been a geyser of various gastrointestinal byproducts.

And then the turning point: she requested a glass of milk. Not my first choice after what she'd been through, but what the hell? Kelly obliged. Allison kept it down for an hour and requested another glass.

At that point I was summoned for a Safeway run. I in turn enlisted Emily. She was happy to help. I tellya, those girls taunt and push each other's buttons daily but when the chips are down for real, they are there for each other. Emily had brought all of Allison's pals: Olivia, Piglet, Puppy, Kitty, Ducky, and Uniqua in to where Allison was sleeping. Then she went with me to Safeway because she wanted to help get stuff to make her sister feel better. When we returned, Allison was waiting at the top of the stairs. If you weren't there you'd never know she'd been puking and crapping like there was no tomorrow.

Emily asked Allison how she was feeling. Allison said she was feeling better. Upon the news, Emily went up to her sister and planted a kiss on her cheek. Now that's what I'm talking about.

My parenting philosophy is kind of like the Navy Seals: "No one gets left behind." Every day Kelly and I give everything we have to give physically, emotionally, and spiritually, to those little girls. Maybe it's because it was such a long, long , difficult road to parenthood, filled with disappointment and tragedy. So even though I have my moments of overwhelming frustration that leads me to bitch and piss and moan about all that I'm giving up for those girls, I do it because it's not lost on me how blessed I am to have them in my life. And it's satisfying to see that same level of commitment exists between Allison and Emily.

So it's 8:30 PM as I write this. Allison is running a slight fever but has knocked back half a bottle of water and a bowl of noodles. It's the fluids I'm especially glad to see her take in. Man, she puked a boatload. Her energy is back and she's been in a good mood. Looks like we're on the mend. I celebrated with a couple/three shots of vodka.

Truthfully, Kelly did all the work. I was too busy being a nervous wreck. After my white knuckle thrill ride home from the park, Kelly designated my job to be keeping Emily out of the way; she kept wanting to check on Allison. In fact it was kind of a comedy act. My mom is sitting in the front row passenger seat of the Suburban, and was completely oblivious to the fact Allison was sick. Meanwhile, Kelly was in the third row with Emily, leaning forward to Allison's second row seat with a Safeway bag and doing what she could in a tough circumstance to help. Emily was back there yelling, "Daddy daddy, daddy!"
"What is Emily?" I didn't try to mask my irritation.
"Allison is puking!"
"Thanks, I figured that out."

We make a good team. Kelly handles medical stuff which I suck at, while I'm better at dealing with them when they need some extra attention to get them to comply with our instructions. She mentioned something about a Lemon Drop after the girls go to bed. She's definitely earned it.

Sunday With The Old Gray Mare--And An Unexpected Turn of Events

2011-10-02T15:02:00.000-07:00

Mom watches the kids play at Grasslawn Park.

Allison and Emily woke up on Sunday morning saying they wanted to visit Grandma Shirley. I jokingly (and lovingly) refer to my mom as "The Old Gray Mare." The girls also wanted to go to a park in Renton that Grandpa Paul took them to last week. That park of course would be in the opposite direction of where my mom lives. Either way, those events are not what I had in mind for the day.   I figured we hit IKEA for lunch and playtime; or maybe a trip to the Seattle Aquarium followed by Sunday Afternoon Movie Time at home in the family room. An unexpected turn of events has left us in a holding pattern.

We decided getting up to see my mom was a good idea. She was walking down the hall as we approached her room.  We didn't say anything, just to test whether or not she'd recognize us. She did.

Mom was looking pretty good all things considered. Dressed, shoes on, walking along pretty good, a smile on her face. We checked her out of the unit and headed for Grasslawn Park.

The first time we went there was in the summer for a birthday party. Things were going fine until Allison remarked that her tummy hurt. She didn't eat much for breakfast and she said it was rumbling around.   Mom was ready to get back home anyway, so we headed back to drop her off and pick up something to eat.

I had just pulled out of the park and was cruising down 148th when Allison started puking. WTF? There was nothing I could do but keep going toward mom's place. I pulled in and escorted mom back to her unit while Kelly tended to Allison. Mom doesn't walk fast, the elevator is even slower, and I was growing impatient by the second. I basically lifted the red rope that marks the entrance to her care unit, gave her a shove toward the cafeteria, and was outta there.

Allison puked again on the way home.  Meanwhile, I had to pick my way through the most heavily congested area of Bellevue traffic. Kelly kept imploring me to slow down and to relax. Indeed, I was hunched over the steering wheel, tapping my fingers, making rude comments about the other cars.

I got in the garage, pulled Allison out of the Suburban, and she stood on my shoes and puked again in the driveway. She had pooped her pants too. We got those off her, sat her on the pot, and she did her thing while I stripped off my soiled shirt, threw away her soiled undies, and Kelly started laundering the rest of the mess.

What got in to Allison? No idea. She was fine this morning, happy and active. She puked again at around  1:45 and is at this moment sleeping in mommy and daddy's bed. I 'm holed up in the family room watching the Seahawks getting shellacked by the Falcons. Anything to keep me calm. I'm not good around sick kids.   Hopefully whatever bug has got in her system is close to having run its course. Stay tuned.

We were heading for my mom's room when we saw her coming our way.

The girls love this swing. So do all the kids, in fact. We had to wait our turn but the parents at this park are really good about sharing this ultra popular attraction.

Allison wanted to sit on the merry-go-round just before we left. Little did we know that she was on the verge of a major puke-fest.

Toastmasters: "Checkpoints" Comes Up Short at Area Contest

2011-09-28T07:52:00.000-07:00

The Area 61/62 Humorous Speech Contest was held on Monday evening in Issaquah. I was there with my speech, Checkpoints. Nerves may have got the best of me but I did the best I could anyway. Came in second place in a two person contest (shame on the other Area 62 clubs who didn't send a contestant), losing out to an Asian woman who came on stage wearing a long blond wig and wielding a Barbie doll.

In review, her speech had more of a positive message than mine. It was about trying to be someone you weren't in order to try and fit in and how it's better to be happy with who you are. Or something along those lines. Plus she had the props going for her. Plus she's a member of several different Toastmaster clubs. So she came in prepared and on top of her game.

Kelly came with me to the contest, as the girls were having a sleepover. She was the only person I knew in the place. A new room full of strangers combined with too much time away from Toastmasters made for some anxiety on my part. Early on, Kelly was signaling me to slow down.

I'm better for the experience. Learned from it. If I keep it going now I'll be a hundred times better prepared for the Spring Contest.

Having said that, this is normally the part where I would say, "good enough," and drop out of the club for another 6 -10 months. I don't think that's going to happen this time. I recognize the "use-it-or-lose-it" nature of public speaking skills. Toastmasters helps in some strange way with my novel writing too, and it's just good for me in on a lot of levels to push out of my comfort zone from time to time.

Learning Curves And The Lion King

2011-09-26T15:43:00.000-07:00

We took Allison and Emily to see "The Lion King" on Sunday. On the one hand, it was a new experience for them. On the other hand, what a joke. And the joke is on me.

First off, we wanted to take them to the non-3D version but that version; at all Regal Cinemas, only plays once a day, around noon. We missed it. So we hit the 3D version at The Landing, in Renton.

Sticker shock hit us square in the face when I had to pony up $51 to get us in the door. Are you fu*king kidding me? A medium popcorn, medium soft drink, and a box of Junior Mints drained another $16 from my bank account.

It was the 5:00 PM showing and the theater was pretty full. The girls watched most of the movie without their 3D glasses. Oh well. Allison watched the entire movie from the comfort of my lap. My right arm started to spasm at one point from the way it was positioned to make her comfortable. Nevertheless, the movie seemed to hold their attention and it's only 90 minutes, Thank The Lord.

Here's the joke: when we got home it occured to Kelly that we have The Lion King on DVD. Fools that we are, we paid $51 to go see a movie we could have watched from our family room on our 55" plasma in Bose Surround. What the hell were we thinking? Oh wait, we weren't.

Well anyway, the girls got to go to the movies. They said they liked it and wanted to do it again. We will, just not in 3D or without me checking my home collection of movies first. It showed though, that we can have a Movie Afternoon at home. After paying movie prices I'll even be happy to order a pizza delivered for our Movie Afternoon, I'll still come out way ahead.

Parenting is definitely full of learning curves.

Doing The Puyallup Did Us In

2011-09-26T13:43:00.001-07:00

The girls try cotton candy for the first time.

We went to the Puyallup Fair on Saturday, the second to last day of its run. Here on the morning after; now that I've regrouped, I can say I'm glad we went.

No so while we were there. For one thing, it took just about forever to even get loaded in to the Suburban. Allison and Emily dragged their feet (literally) when it was time to put on their shoes. Meanwhile, I nuked some pancakes for them to snack on during the drive. On Thursday morning I had spread Nutella on top and it was a big hit. Of course on Saturday morning Emily turned her nose up at them. She wanted hers plain.

The girls were strapped in their car seats at the time. So I passed her pancakes over to Allison and went back upstairs to nuke a fresh stack. These I topped with whipped butter. I brought them down to the 'burb and offered to Emily. Now she wanted them with Nutella. Back upstairs I went....

Meanwhile, Kelly was rooting around for extra clothes, drinks, the stroller, and other supplies we figured to need. Finally we were ready to go. I backed out of the garage, pushed the button to close the door. Nothing. Kelly got out and realigned the sensors which held us up several more minutes.

We didn't plan to stay long, just long enough to see the animals and have a snack. I asked the girls if they wanted a cookie. They said yes. Then I saw that Cow Chip Cookies were going for $4. Sure they were big, but still, uhh, no. We opted for cotton candy. One would be enough for both girls but Allison had to have pink and Emily blue. Those went for $3.89 apiece. Okay, whatever.

Then a surprise: the girls wanted to go to the face-painting tent. They got a bit scared in there, and opted for a butterfly on the arm. Hey, in my book that was still a step forward in the socialization process.

The animals were the highlight of this whole adventure. Horseys, bunnies, duckies, the whole farm scene. The dogs weren't around, they were in the show ring. Then it was off to Pete's Barbecue. Two pulled pork sandwich plates, some curly fries, and a lemonade set me back $32. Adding insult to injury was the meltdown the girls had over seating assignments at the picnic table under the tent. That turned a few heads. Plus, the pork was drenched in a tangy barbecue sauce that I could have done either without or at the least, with a lot less. The ear of corn was good.

We went back for another try at seeing the doggies but they were still in the show ring. Inside the dog shelter Allison got away from us and made a game out of being caught, dredging up memories of Roscoe. She got in trouble for that and started crying. Boy did that girl cry. Got Emily going. Kelly and I decided without discussion that it was time to head home.

The girls grudgingly climbed back in the stroller. The tears were still flowing. Finally I picked them up and carried them toward the gate. They settled down and we got them back in the stroller. The masses were accumulating by this point. The crosswalk to the parking lot was jammed. At the exact second the "Walk" light came on, Allison popped out of the stroller. No way could she walk on her own; she'd either be lost, trampled, or left behind. We ordered her back in the stroller. She complied but refused help getting buckled up. I started to push anyway but she put her feet on the front wheels to stop me until she got buckled. Meanwhile, people were swarming around us. Kelly yanked Allison out and carried her across the street. Allison complained bitterly. Emily wanted out of the stroller too but I wouldn't let her. She wailed too.

We got across, I picked them both up and started carrying them. "You can't carry them all that way in this heat," said Kelly, "you'll have a heart attack."
"I don't care," I replied. And I meant it.

Allison fell asleep just before we got home. I carried her in the house, straight to the couch in the family room where I sat down, turned on the Husky game,and watched the entire second half with her sleeping in my arms.

So what to make of it? The girls got out in the world and yes though it was a pain, I wouldn't want to deny them the experience just because it was inconvenient to me. And I think as the more we get out, we'll begin to figure out how to do it without all the drama. Call it an exhausting step forward.

Allison and Emily loved looking at all the animals.

This is a pretty big moment for the girls.

We have a bunny that often visits us our back yard so it was nice they could get an up-close look at one.

The chickadees are always fun to watch.

Pete's Barbecue. Smells good but come plating time they need to pull back on the sauce.

Emily shows off a curly fry.

Campfire Season Comes To A Close

2011-09-26T13:43:00.000-07:00

I had just enough wood for one more evening fire and with Friday being the first day of fall, it seemed a fitting time to close out the campfire season. Summer gave us one last blast of heat. We had a Mexican theme going on with carne asada and Margaritas. John and Kirsten came over, we turned up the music, we ate, we drank. When the Zable's departed Kelly and I spent a few last minutes sitting out there staring at the stars. Hard to believe another summer has come and gone.

I've decided I don't particularly like these buckets of Margaritas, though it didn't stop me from pounding them.

A pleasant evening on the patio with friends.

Small tortilla shells with all kinds of fixin's.

I can't wait to see the difference in the girls a year from now.

Springsteen Turns 62 Today

2011-09-23T07:54:00.000-07:00

I became a hardcore Springsteen fan in the summer of 1978. Hard to believe 33 years have gone by. I was 19 years old when Darkness On The Edge of Town was released. When the needle on my stereo dropped in to the first track, Badlands, I was hooked. I played that record relentlessly and it remains my favorite of all time.

The Changes? Unavoidable, certainly. Two members of the E Street Band have passed. Word came out today that Bruce and the band are meeting over the next couple of weeks to discuss their musical future. The question doesn't seem to be if they should continue, but how.

I've moved on myself in a lot of ways, expanding my musical tastes. Still, no matter whose music I'm digging at any given time, there will always be a special place in my heart for Bruce Springsteen & The E Street Band. His music is too personal and has too much history with me to deny its importance in my life. As a teenager I identified with the songs and as a lover of writing I still find Bruce to be the best lyricist in Rock & Roll. His music inspired me when I needed inspiring; I love their sound as a band and I love the way Bruce plays guitar: there is an element of exuberant recklessness to his solos.

Who knows, maybe someday I'll be able to take Allison and Emily to a Bruce concert after all.

Sorry About That

2011-09-21T10:27:00.000-07:00

After three plus years of blogging I for the first time looked in the spam folder on my posting dashboard. To my surprise, I found a bunch of valid comments had been automatically dumped in there. Hopefully they are now posted to the related stories.

I didn't mean to ignore anyone who has taken the time to leave a message. Your thoughts are appreciated here.

Okay God, I Got Your Message

2011-09-19T08:50:00.000-07:00

Things didn't work out (surprise, not) quite the way I wanted this weekend. It was eventful in all the wrong ways. Lets start with Friday.

Paul had nailed me down earlier in the week to help him regain the trail through his back yard. His back yard is a greenbelt on a steep hill overgrown with humongous blackberry stalks. When I got there he was using his chainsaw as a weedeater, slashing through the brush with it. I stayed a few paces behind and was thinking if it was anyone else doing that, he'd have a heart attack. A few minutes later he suddenly shut down the chainsaw and dropped his pants. Sure enough, he had nicked his thigh with the chainsaw.

After two hours bushwhacking on the steep hill in extra clothing to protect against the thorns, I was hot and exhausted. It was 6:00; luckily for me, Paul was going to take Aaron around the neighborhood to sell popcorn for the cub scouts. Allison and Emily were having a sleepover too, which I only found about earlier in the day. The girls were calling to me from the dining room window as I scrambled up the hill. I wish I had made my getaway before they got there because they got clingy when I tried to leave.

Back home, I showered up and contemplated along with Kelly on what to do with our free time. We checked the movie listings; we tossed around where we'd like to eat; we wondered what else there was to go and see. In the end; tired and unprepared, we stayed home and watched a movie on cable.

What I really wanted to do on the weekend was have one last campfire on the patio to burn the rest my wood. It was almost perfect weather. Almost, but not quite. Gray and cool. And raining. Damn. Kelly made up a bucket of margarita mix in hopes the weather would turn favorable. Oh how I wanted to sit on my patio on a gray, cool afternoon, with some meat on the fire and a bucket-o-margaritas by my side.

But no....

We cooled our heels all day on Saturday, leaving only to hit Coulon in the afternoon for lunch at Ivar's and a walk. I listened on the radio to the Huskies lose to Nebraska. John and Kirsten were going to come over but we canceled, figuring Paul and Ellen would linger when returning the girls. At 7:00 PM Grandma Ellen finally showed up with two tired little girls. We put them to bed and spent another evening in front of the TV.

Around 5:00 in the morning Allison woke up screaming in her sleep. Another bout with Night Terrors. Emily woke up too--how could anyone sleep through that?  We knew not to wake up Allison; instead, we just contained her and tried to protect Emily from getting kicked or otherwise bashed by her flailing sister. I sat on the edge of the bed and stroked Allison's arm and kept repeating that I was there and everything was okay. She eventually came around and demanded to be picked up. I obliged. Emily wanted up too, so I took them both in my arms and walked out to the living room. They saw a bunny nibbling on the front lawn. That seemed to brighten their spirits. The vibe improved and after a few minutes they were ready to go back to bed.

Sunday morning was breezing and misting. I really really wanted to sit on the patio, grill some brats, and drink some margaritas. After the rough early morning, the girls woke up happy. They played pretend in the living room.  Allison got dressed and went out to ride her bike.  I sat under the deck in my lounge wear with a cup of coffee just to keep a watchful eye on her. Emily came out. They played together nicely. Kelly made breakfast. The four of us sat at the pub table eating scrambled eggs and bacon. Happiness abounded. I was somewhat incredulous.

John and Kirsten came over. I gave up hope on the patio and fire. The Steelers shut out the Seahawks 24-0 (another dream dashed). We went for Mexican food. But before we went, Kelly broke out the bucket of margaritas she had made the day before. I was in the mood. After lunch we came back, watched TV (Househunters International) and pounded more margaritas. I think I had five in all.

Meanwhile the girls were full of energy and zipping around, sharing their toys with each other and playing happily. I switched to a bottle of water and a carafe of coffee to start preparing mentally for the workweek. Bedtime went alright, though I need to come up with new stories. Kelly and I got them down just before 9:00, which was perfect because I wanted to see Inspector Lewis on Masterpiece Theater. Of course I nodded off.

I got on the scale before going to bed and was flabbergasted to find I had gained five fu*king pounds during the day. Then about two minutes after I turned out my lamp, Allison started in with another bout of night terrors. I was not in the mood. My head was not in the game.  My patience was shot. Still, there was nothing to do but contain her, protect Emily, and wait for Allison to come out of it. Emily took a couple kicks to the legs, and that along with all the screaming woke her up. Once again I had them both in my arms, both of them in tears, both of them wailing. I was mentally weak. I laughed manically, looked to the heavens, and said, "Okay God, I got your message. I've learned my lesson."

We got through it, the girls went back to bed, everything settled down. I could hear the rain on the roof and Charlie snoring. I stepped back on the scale, obsessed and in disbelief at the earlier reading. Somehow I had put on another pound. I admitted to myself that I got what I deserved.

I know better than anyone that I need all my resources available at all times for parenting. And that means staying healthy as much as it does sober. So now; after that emphatic reminder, I've once again committed myself to putting away the booze and dedicating myself to a healthier lifestyle. Lordy, I'm thick-headed. But I think I got the message.

Toastmasters: Checkpoints

2011-09-16T08:30:00.000-07:00

After some eleventh hour tweaking; and after nervously fretting my way through a final rehearsal in a tiny conference room literally minutes before the PSE Energizers Toastmaster annual Humorous Speech Contest, I hit the stage with "Checkpoints."

Funny thing was, I was extremely nervous an hour before the contest. It had been a year since I'd given a speech and I was short on confidence. I was surprised by the size of the audience; there were a lot of non-members there which made me happy. For some reason I'm less nervous in front of a bigger audience than a smaller group. As I was waiting to be introduced I was calm and serene. I kept telling myself to stay in the moment. When I have trouble is when I become an observer of my own presentation. And by the time you are one minute from taking the floor, it's like, whatever is going to happen is going to happen. Time to focus, turn in to the Alpha Dog, and just do it. And to my amazement, it was good enough to take home first place. Next stop: Area Contest on September 26.

My Evaluation
The Good--Rate of speech is good; gestures are good; voice is strong and confident; material is pretty good. Anybody catch the Pink reference?

The Bad--Too fidgety; eliminate the part about "hurtling down life's highway"; wish I had a stronger opening (the first few seconds are missing on this clip).

The Ugly--Get a haircut; lose weight. God I hate the way I look.

Got a comment, a tip, a suggestion? I want to get better so constructive criticism is welcome.

First Day of Preschool

2011-09-15T08:04:00.000-07:00

Meeting their teacher, Mrs. Linda

The girls took their first steps in to the world of academia last week. Well, really there's not much academics going on in preschool; but still, there is the socialization aspect, the structured environment, and the beginning of independence. Turns out there are 30 kids in the class and only 7; including Allison and Emily, are girls. The weird thing is, there are five (yes 5) sets of twins in the class.

As expected, we got off to a slightly rocky start. The girls seemed excited at first. Then we got to the school. Kids everywhere. A strange room. They met their teacher, Mrs. Linda. She was Aaron's preschool teacher too. They met her assistants, Mrs. Pam and Ms. Rafa. Okay, still hanging in there, barely. Time to find their name tags that were hooked on to a long string of yarn. After that we led them to a big mat. All the kids had their name on a piece of paper that was on the mat where they were supposed to sit. And this is where the wheels started to come off.

Long story short, Allison and Emily were relocated to an outside corner so they could be next to Kelly and me. Class started with a couple sing-alongs. Parents started drifting out of the room. We tried but Allison was stationed so her back was resting on my knee. As soon as she couldn't feel me, she whipped her head around, started crying and was in hot pursuit. Emily joined in the chase.

We hung around. The group broke up to play. The girls worked on some play-dough. It seemed like they started to loosen up. From there they were taken to a table for some crafts; gluing different colored shapes of paper. They started jabbering happily. I told Emily that mommy and me were going to step out for a second because we had to talk to Grandma and Grandpa and that we'd be right back. She was cool with that. Allison, not so much.

We continued to hang out. Only a couple parents besides us remained. On about our third attempt to leave, Mrs. Linda overheard us. She stepped in and took the girls by the hand to show them something, at which point Kelly and I made our getaway. We had been there for the first hour of the three hour class day.

I wasn't there for the pickup. Kelly went and teamed up with Kathy (Ryan is in the class too), and they all went out for Mexican food. The girls said they had fun. What's not to like? Sing-alongs, play time, a craft project, a snack, recess, story time, and go home.

It was a big; gigantic; historical step in their lives. I was so in the moment with all that was going on, it'll be awhile before it sinks in. This is a day we all will remember.

On their way to class.

Finding their name tags.

They were assigned to where Kelly is pointing. That didn't fly so they were relocated closer to us.

After sing-alongs, the class broke up to play with whatever they wanted that was in the room. A lot of toys and dolls and such around but they opted for play-dough.

Forty-five minutes or so in to class and they start on their first ever school project. They were jabbering happily at this point.

The teachers have already remarked that Emily is the more independent twin.

Allison leads Emily to their storage cubby to put up their project for safe keeping.

We will be hanging on to those projects for posterity.

Grandpa's Boat--For Real

2011-09-13T07:50:00.000-07:00

On Labor Day we spent the evening on Grandpa's boat. He keeps it moored at a local marina. The weather was fabulous; the girls were having a sleepover that night, and I wanted to go because I knew they'd be on the boat anyway and I wanted to keep my eyes on them. Land lubber that I am, it was my first time on board in about four years.

I'm just not in to sitting out in the middle of Meydenbauer Bay for hours on end. I don't like being in the sun; I can't read on a bobbing watercraft; and I don't want to drink out there either. Not only that, in years past Paul has installed me at the helm; he meant well I know, but I have no desire to drive a boat. I'm not versed in knots either and didn't appreciate being ordered around to tie up the boat at whatever landing he chose around Lake Washington. A brief cruise along the shoreline to gawk at the mansions is cool, but I want to be back at the dock in an hour.

We hung out at the marina; drank a bottle of wine and ate some snacks. That was totally fine. Paul likes to take the girls out in the little dingy he keeps on the back of the boat. Kind of makes me nervous even though I know he's super careful to keep the girls safe. This particular evening the girls insisted that I get in the dinghy and go for a ride too. It was close quarters; his little outboard motor was working it's proverbial ass off; the dinghy doesn't have a keel so doesn't steer all that well, and we stalled out in a pool of algae when it tangled up in the propeller.

It all made for a minor adventure, a few laughs, and in the end we sat on the flying bridge to watch the sunset. A lovely evening.

Paul lets us in to the marina.

A new tradition. Allison rings the bell. Emily is not in to it.

Kelly loves to relax on the boat.

The girls in their life preserver swimsuits waiting for Grandpa to let them on the dinghy.

Off on a grand adventure.

The big oaf in the red life jacket is your truly.

Snack time.

Great fun to be had on the flying bridge.

Emily takes her turn at the helm.

I can just see her behind the wheel of a car.

Emily borrowed Grandma's shades to check out the sunset.

John's Birthday Celebration--Farrell Style

2011-09-12T15:41:00.000-07:00

My new thing is ditching the baked spud in favor of asparagus. When it comes to the steak, I always go with the 12 ounce New York.

So there we were at long last; I had been looking forward to John's birthday dinner at DaKeg for quite some time. I didn't let the fact I'd been wolfing brawts a few hours earlier in the day deter me from enjoying a New York steak and some wine (I paid for that later on). Luckily, John's back pain only registered a three out of ten. After dinner we sat on the patio per usual with a fire and more wine. A Farrell-style time: quiet, tranquil, with good food and good friends.

We got a chuckle over the fact the ladies dressed so similar.

A fuzzy shot of our standard Gray Goose Vodka Martini Birthday Toast.

DaKeg's Lobster Summer was going on. Kelly and John have made it a summertime tradition.

If you have a caption, let me know.

The girls present John with birthday cards.

Last of The Summer Wine

2011-09-12T15:30:00.000-07:00

A week ago Sunday (yes I"m way behind the times), Paul and Ellen threw an impromptu barbecue on our schedule. We already had plans to celebrate John's birthday at DaKeg so it ended up being a Bratwurst Afternoon and a Steak Night.

The reason Paul and Ellen wanted a family get together was to toast the end of the summer season. Our thoughts were turning to colder weather, preschool for the girls, Husky football, and Dancing With The Stars. Things went about as would be expected. I forsook my usual two shots of vodka since I knew I was heading for DaKeg and so decided to just tough it out.

Problem is, it's simply not possible to get the ten of us together, get us all to sit down together, and to mind our manners. Cases in point: the girls didn't want brawts; Aaron bordered on a meltdown over I forget what; Paul got frustrated that his burgers were sent back because they were undercooked and stomped off to sit by himself; Kelly got frustrated because the girls wanted to go to the bathroom just as she was ready to dig in to her meal. I could go on.

Things improved when we moved from the wine deck to the patio. Ice cream came out; party poppers were detonated; the girls played on the swing. We should always just fast forward to desert.

One thing that is getting on my radar is the girls constant falling down. Every damn day they wear sandals and shorts or dresses and every damn day they stub their feet and take a dive. Every damn day they're bleeding. Sunday was no exception. After riding the swing, Emily jumped off, took about three steps, stumbled on the walkway, spun upside down on her head, skidded on her head for a while, then toppled the rest of the way over. Came away with skinned knees and a nice scratch on the hairline to show for it. As I watched the whole thing unfold I saw us shooting out to the local emergent care center for stitches. Luckily she was relatively unscathed but still....

We moved again; this time from the patio to the street. Bike were ridden, scooters were scooted, and a stray cat with a bold constitution got a lot of attention. So all in all it went like it always does; a rough beginning as expectations are not met, then things loosened up and a good time was had by all. We arrived at noon and by four we had dropped the girls off at Auntie Kathy's and got ready to have dinner at DaKeg.

Paul did brawts first then followed up with burgers. I held back because I was going to DaKeg shortly after and still I ate too much. Oh well, it was good.

The girls for reasons unknown insisted on wearing dresses. Here, they're taking in the grill action.

Allison typically pushes her food away then comes back to it later. Kelly and me have learned to deal with it but it frustrates Grandpa to see his plans not work out they way he drew them up in his head.

A nervy but friendly cat got a lot of attention.

Kelly brought a big tube of party poppers that we let off after the meal. It was somewhat cathartic.

The Jack Attack Comes To Town

2011-09-12T09:15:00.000-07:00

The Jack Attack came to town last weekend thanks to the adventurous spirit of both him and his mom. I wouldn't have dreamed of traveling with even one of my kids at that age. We were all looking forward to meeting him; he turned out to be an easy going lil fella, but poor mom and grandma were probably glad to get back home despite our nice visit.

I knew they were going to show up mid-afternoon on the Friday and so I directed my focus at work toward a timely departure. All the pieces were in place at lunch. I was feeling good. And then the wheels came off. First, files were sent late to me. Second, my co-worker was off running an errand. Then the nail in the coffin--my boss called at 3:00 asking if I could drop by his office for my mid-year review.

By the time I got home, Joan and Kristi were sitting at the pub table while Jack crawled around on the floor. Kelly had been prepping food during the day and had a snack plate of cheese out to go with the surprise I ordered up for Joan--three bottles of a white wine produced by Mary Hill winery.

We started in on the wine and moved the party out to the patio. John and Kirsten showed up, I started a fire, and we pretty much spent the evening outside.

Guest accommodations at my house have been sacrificed in favor of a playroom for the girls. Joan and Kristi brought an air mattress or two plus my couches downstairs are available. We still had the Pack-n-Play around, so we vacuumed that out and set it up for Jack.

When I got up at 7:00 the next morning I found Kristi in the living room with Jack. She had been up several times with him, and had been up for a couple hours by the time I rolled out. That brought back the mems. Being a parent of an eight month old is a physical gig. I had forgotten how much so until that morning watching Kristi. Jack, who is just getting mobile, still managed to make his way around the room, check out toys, and generally display his sense of adventure. That of course requires constant supervision and when she wasn't doing that, Jack was being rocked in her arms, sucking on her shirt, needing to be fed and changed and all that good stuff. Of course, Kristi is a lot younger than Kelly and me, but still it's a lot of work. But watching her in action made me wonder how I ever survived that first year. Of course I still wonder at times now, how I'm going to make it through the day.

Saturday morning was bright and beautiful. We sat around the living room drinking coffee and chatting. Kelly made us bacon and eggs. Then we deiced to take a stroll around the neighborhood.

We did a two mile loop with Jack and the girls all in strollers. After that it was time for the load out and the 160 mile ride back to Battleground.

Next time we see Jack around these parts he'll no doubt be a full fledged boy who'll probably bring his skateboard and be able to throw a football farther than me. And who knows, maybe Kristi will have another toddler in tow.

Jack of course was the center of attention. We all were looking forward to seeing him.

The girls are always pretending to feed their dolls. Allison took a turn at feeding a real baby.

Charlie enjoyed hanging out with The Jack Attack.

Kirsten came bearing gifts: school clothes for the girls.

Time for cake.

Saturday morning. We drank a lot of coffee to compensate for Joan and Kristi's lack of sleep.

All kids love an empty box.

Heading out for our walk.

The moms.

Buckling up for the long ride back to Battleground.

Auntie Joan gets a hug from Emily.

Grandpa's Boat

2011-08-30T09:29:00.000-07:00

Last week, Allison and Emily had a sleepover at the grandparents. Paul and Ellen took them on their boat where Paul gave them each a ride around the marina on the little dinghy he keeps on the back of the boat. They went up a narrow tributary too, where they saw a turtle. I decided to use all that for their latest scary story. Now I have to tell all three of them on a nightly basis.

And I don't know if this is a sign of good storytelling or of being boring but last night for example, Allison was acting up a little; being her little feisty self at bedtime. I started in on the first story, "Monster or Raccoon," and she put her head on the pillow. Kelly started rubbing her tummy. By the time I was done with "The Bear And The Maple Bar," she was out for the count.

Emily meanwhile sat up cross legged and paid rapt attention, jumping ahead in the stories in several places. She settled down for "Grandpa's Boat," and was curled up close to sleep by the time I finished, though as I crept out of the room she was asking Kelly for a back rub.

Anyway, my latest bedtime tale:

You girls have been on Grandpa's boat, right? Well, I was on his boat one time and Grandpa took me out for a ride. We went down this quiet river where the water was pitch black. And, have you ever seen it when it gets foggy? Fog is when a big cloud sits right down on top of you and makes everything gray and it's hard to see.

Me and Grandpa started going down this river and a fog came down right on top of us and the water was pitch black and we could hardly see the shore. Just an outline of the banks of the river. There were big trees hanging out over the river and the moon was a round ball I could barely see through the fog. I looked up and saw bats flying around and I could hear coyotes (insert howl) and I even heard a bear (insert growl.) There were other noises too, coming from the trees; I didn't know what they were so I ducked every time we went under them in the boat.

And guess what happened? The boat ran out of gas!! Me and Grandpa forgot to check the gas before we left to make sure we had enough to get down the river and back. So all of a sudden we were just drifting down this river in the fog and pitch black water.

I said, "Grandpa, what are we going to do?" He said, "Well, Daddy-o of The Patio, see that log over there?" I could barely see a log sticking out from the shore just above the waterline. Grandpa said, "I'll give you this rope, and you throw it over there and catch that log. Then we'll pull the boat over so we can get up on the bank and walk down the road to the gas station."

He handed me a blue rope because Grandpa hurt his shoulder playing football back in high school and can't throw that far. And it was real heavy because we needed a long rope to make it over to the shore and I knew it was going to take all my strength to throw all that rope all the way over to the bank and catch that log. So I reared back like this and with all my viking might I heaved it as hard as I could.. I heaved it so hard in fact, that as I let go I ended up throwing myself right over the side of the boat.

And you know what happened? I went "splash!" right in to the pitch black water. My clothes got all heavy with water and I started sinking and the water was pitch black so I couldn't see a thing and I thought, how am I going to get out of this?

And you know what happened? Two turtles swam up and got under my tummy and they floated me back up to the top of the water! My head came out of the water and I had to take my hand like this and push my hair back and I spit out a mouthful of water and I head to shake my head like this so I could see.

Guess what I saw? There was Grandpa reaching over the side of the boat He said, "Come on, Daddy-o of The Patio, grab my arm!" I reached up like this and grabbed his arm and he pulled as hard as he could with his bad shoulder and got me up to the top and I did a somersault right in to the boat. I said, "Whew, thanks Grandpa!"

My clothes were soaking wet. And you know how Grandpa has a bed in the bottom of his boat? Well he had some clothes down there so he said, "Go down there Daddy-o and change out of those wet clothes." So I did and when I came back up we both grabbed that blue rope that I threw over to the bank and caught that log with.

We started pulling on it as hard as we could; with all our viking might. We pulled and pulled and real slowly the boat started going over to the log. We finally got over there and tied it up so the boat wouldn't drift away while we got out to look for some gas so we could go home.

Grandpa said, "Hey Daddy-o I have an idea: I"ll call Grandma on my cell phone and she can come pick us up and take us to the gas station." I said, "Good idea, Grandpa." So he called Grandma and told her to come pick us up. Grandma said, "Where are you guys so I know where to go?" We didn't know where we were. "I don't know for sure," said Grandpa. "We're stuck out here on the river somewhere."

Grandma said, "Well go up to the road and I'll drive along the river until I find you."

"Okay," said grandpa.

We climbed out of the boat and scrambled up this narrow path. I could just see the round ball of the moon sitting right in the middle of the path. We got up to the top of the bank and walked through some trees with sounds coming out of them; Grandpa said they were probably squirrels, and we found the road. It was a dirt road with a patch of scraggly grass in the middle.

We started walking along the road and I looked behind me through the fog and in the distance I saw this bend in the road. There was two beams of light shining in the bend and a growling noise. I said to Grandpa, "What do you think that is, Grandpa, should we hide?" Grandpa said, "I don't think we need to hide but maybe we should walk a little faster." So we started walking faster. I kept looking behind me and not watching where I was going and so I tripped over a rock. You should always watch where you're going. Good thing I was wearing long pants or I would've skinned my knee for sure.

I'm sitting down there on the road dusting the dirt off the pants that I borrowed from Grandpa and something comes around the bend. Those beams of light that I had seen started shining right on me and then they started flashing and the thing started making a honking sound and the growling was louder.

I got up and said to Grandpa, "Grandpa, I think we'd better make a run for it." But before we could even start running the thing was right up on us. And you know what it was?

It was Grandma! She was driving her jeep. I said, "Grandma! You scared me. I thought that was a monster coming after us."

She said, "Well you guys called me and told me to come get you so you could get some gas for the boat, so that's what I was doing. I was driving along the river looking for you."

So me and Grandpa climbed in Grandma's jeep and she took us to the gas station and we got more gas. Then she drove us back to the boat and we put the gas in and got back home.

Kennydale Beach

2011-08-26T08:01:00.000-07:00

Kennydale Beach is a spot for the locals.

While Vince's holds a lot of sentimental value for Kelly, for me, it's Kennydale Beach. Hearkens me back to 1987-88. I could go in to elaborate detail but what really matters is that it was a blast to take Allison and Emily to one of my favorite little places to relax.

The beach is relatively small and not considered a destination by any means, being more of a neighborhood hangout. The Seattle Seahawks practice facility is a stones' throw to the east. Coulon Park; which is considered a destination point, is just down the road the other way.

Back in the day after my shift in the bakery, I would go home to my apartment on Richards Road, change clothes, hop on my bicycle, and cruise the three or so miles down to Kennydale where I'd nap on the grassy bank, take a dip in the lake, work on my tan, walk along the tracks to the little deli that used to be down the street, come back with a sub, nap some more, take another dip--you get the picture. In 1988 Dr. Zable was working with me in the bakery part-time as he finished up at the UW, and we'd bike down to Kennydale together but we'd end up at Coulon later on for some marathon sessions of Frisbee throwin'. That was before the beach volleyball craze. These days John and I talk about it from time to time, how the summer of '88 was one of the best in our lives.

Fast forward 23 years...oh my, well can't hold back the hands of time..anyway, on Wednesday I loaded up my wife and kids and revisited my old haunt for the first time in several years.

At some point in time the city put in a play area on the sand. How cool is that? The girls climbed around on it for a bit but what they really wanted to do was go in the water.

Allison and Emily amaze me with their love for the water. They just laugh at how cold it is, seeming to enjoy it. Kelly and me stood on the steps to supervise as they held on to the railing and lowered themselves in. After a good dunk, they ran up to the beach, sat down, covered their legs in sand, then came back for another dunk. Over and over.

Step 1: Cover legs in sand

Step 2: Head for lake.

A good coating of sand

Step 3: Dunk. It was a spectacular day with the temp near 80 degrees, but that water was cold when you first got in. The girls loved it.

After about 150 rounds of coating themselves in sand then dunking, it was time to change out of their swimsuits, go on a bathroom break, and have a can of pop. It was straight in to the bathtub for them when we got home.

The Bear And The Maple Bar

2011-08-25T14:13:00.000-07:00

Tuesday didn't go as well as Monday in regard to lights out. We shot ourselves in the foot by going out to dinner, so by the time we got home it was nearly 8:00--the time I was aiming to get Allison and Emily settled in for the night. As soon as we got in the door it was straight to the bedtime routine: a glass of milk, teeth brushing, jammies, and books.

Kelly asked them if they wanted to hear another scary story. They did. The condition was, they had to put the books away and get under the covers. Kelly also suggested turning down the lights since that makes for a better scary story. Both girls however, balked at that idea.

I had been thinking about story ideas and came up with one based on the time I was followed by a rogue coyote on one of my evening walks.

You know how I like to go out on walks around the neighborhood after you kids go to bed? Well one night I was out there and it was really, really dark. The moon threw down just enough light so I could see a little bit in front of me as I went along.

While I was out there I got hungry. And you know how we eat at The Mustard Seed? Well there's that store right next door and I went in to get a couple of my favorite treats--maple bars.

I started walking home and eating a maple bar on the way. It was real dark like I said, and as I was going down the street I heard a noise in the bushes. It went (insert growling noise).

You know how you guys can run real fast? Well I used to be able to run fast too. I was thinking it wasn't that far to get home, so I made a decision. I could either try and hide or I could make a run for it and try to get home before whatever was making that sound caught up.

And you know what it was? I knew because I'd heard that sound before. It was a bear! I decided to run. Bears can run fast. So I took off as fast as I could. I was running so fast it took all my breath and I started going like this (huffing and puffing). I could hear that sound behind me(growl) so I tried to run faster but the bear was gaining on me.

So you know what I did? I saw a car parked on the side of the road and I dove underneath it. I couldn't see the bear but I figured it was a lot bigger than me and if I can barely fit under this car then the bear can't; he's too fat, so I'd be safe.

Really though I wanted to hide. I hoped he didn't see me get under the car. But even if he didn't see me it was still going to be hard to hide because I was huffing and puffing so loud. So you know what I did? I held my breath like this (suck in gut, hold breath). I could hear the bear walking like this (slap palms on bed). And guess what? He didn't see me! That bear walked right on by!

I thought, now here's my chance, it's better that I'm behind the bear because he's not thinking about looking back because he's chasing me. So I went to get out from under the car but I got stuck! I was halfway out and I got stuck. I tried squeezing my legs out as hard as I could but it was no use.

I was scared the bear would glance around behind and see me. If only I could've got my cell phone out and called mommy, but it was stuck in my pocket and I couldn't get to it because it was such a tight fit with me wedged in there under that car.

So I tried one more time. I sucked in my gut as much as I could and I pushed with my toes and I got out. I started running for home again. The moon was throwing down just enough light so I could barely see in front of me and I was huffing and puffing again and I was almost home when all of a sudden I'm face to face with that bear.

He's looking right at me and he's going (insert growl). That's when I recognized him! We were friends. It was just that it was so dark I couldn't tell who it was, and some bears are not that friendly. I said, "Hello Mr. Bear, would you like a maple bar?"

Mr Bear gave me a big, happy, bear smile and he gave me a bear hug. Have you ever got a bear hug? They're like this (hug girls). So I gave him a maple bar and we sat there resting and talking--well as much as a person and a bear can talk, and eating our treats.

I finished my maple bar and said, "Goodnight, Mr Bear, enjoy your walk." Then I went home and got under the covers and went down to where my castle is and went inside. I was tired from running so I fell asleep almost right away, and I dreamed about sunny days and campfires and making smores.

An Evening at Vince's

2011-08-25T11:31:00.000-07:00

One of Kelly's favorite places is Vince's. She's been going there since she was a little girl. Coincidentally, years later when Vince himself was in declining health, he found himself in Kelly's care at Providence Hospital. He eventually passed but his Renton restaurant lives on. And so does family tradition. His and mine.

The girls have been there a couple times before without me. They refer to it as, "the pizza place." Personally, I think they do a better job on their pasta than their pies, but it's one of those things; when you've been going there ever since you can remember you can't discount the sentimental value. Like me going to Dick's Drive-in. So I get it.

The last time we tried to go the girls fell asleep on the way and no amount of cajoling could roust them. We could have ordered a pizza to go but instead just continued on for a leisurely drive. Allison and Emily fell asleep on Tuesday too, and we left again; this time for Safeway. While I was in the store picking up my prescriptions they woke up and wanted to go back.

It was my first time to Vince's in several years. It's a nice little neighborhood Italian joint situated at the end of a strip mall on Sunset Boulevard. We had the "Kelly Special" which is my term for a pizza topped with bacon and mushrooms, the kind of pizza that takes her back to her roots. It was fine, the girls enjoyed themselves, and all in all it was a pleasant experience. I anticipate many more trips to Vince's.

Allison was eating her pizza with a fork so that's the way Emily wanted to do it too.

Allison brought her two favorite blankets and Piglet.

Medium Bizzare

2011-08-23T11:09:00.000-07:00

Last night we watched a few minutes of "Kate Plus 8". I'm no fan of Kate Gosselin and was quite happy to learn her show is being cancelled. I also saw a lot of commercials for American Chopper. I love that show. Meanwhile it's worth noting that Kelly is reading "Medium Raw" by Anthony Bourdain.

Yeah, so?

So I'm trying to figure out my dream last night in which I shared a Seaside, Oregon vacation house with Kate Gosselin, Anthony Bourdain, and Vince, off American Chopper. As if that weren't weird enough, Danny Devito made an appearance in my dream. He was clubbing the living shit out of some guy under a barnacle encrusted pier.

I remember something about driving somewhere; and being pissed that I had to drive while the rest of the group sloughed off in the back of a T-Bird (I used to own a '97 T-Bird). Then we came back to the vacation house to check out. Vince took off. Kate checked out too. It was me and Anthony Bourdain. The house I remember was a total wreck, like the kids playroom (which I had just cleaned up in real life earlier in the day), and I was wandering around picking stuff up.

The maid was cleaning the bathroom and bitching about it. She came out of the bathroom and lectured me about something she found in a drain that was plugging it or something. I was trying to clean the place up and didn't like being lectured by the maid so when she was done I turned around and muttered something about not leaving a tip.

I also remember being dog-tired and pissed off while Bourdain seemed well-rested. He was smoking cigarettes, totally calm and relaxed. I thought, well sure he's an ex-heroin addict, so this little thing is nothing to him. Somewhere around there my dream petered out.

If I thought about it long enough I could probably piece it together and make sense of my dream. Except for the part about Danny Devito. And no I had not been drinking.

Monster or Raccoon?

2011-08-23T08:01:00.000-07:00

Last night around 7:00 PM as Emily sat next to me on my pity perch while Allison occupied my lap, I asked them if they wanted to hear a story. A scary story. It was totally spontaneous. I don't know why I did it, didn't have any story ideas, but they wanted to hear one so off I went, totally making one up on the fly. By the time I was done, Allison was nearly asleep. Emily wanted me to tell it again. I promised them if they got their jammies on and got in bed I'd tell them the story again. After re-telling my off-the-cuff tale a couple more times; and acting it out, we did our usual looking at books. Lights out was at 8:30. That's more like it. So I'm trying the same tactic tonight in hopes of whittling lights out time down another thirty minutes.

For posterity, here's my tale:

I remember one night when I was your age. It was a dark and stormy night, kinda like tonight only darker and stormier. I was laying in bed with the covers up and I could hear something. I didn't know what it was. There was tapping on the window. Just the rain, I figured. And I could hear howling. Mighta been the wind, but it sounded like this (make quiet howling noise).

Then I thought, what if it's a monster--did I lock the front door? I needed to check it out but instead I pulled the covers over my head and hid in my castle. But what if the monster got in the house, I thought, could it get inside my castle? I needed to check it out. I was scared, the hair on my arm was tingling, but I had to be brave.

So you know what I did? I slid back all the way under the covers and snuck out the bottom of the bed. I went crawling along the floor on my tummy to the window. In fact it was this window right here (the girls bedroom window). I put my hand up on the ledge like this and slowly, real slow, pulled myself up real quiet just so I could peek out the window. And I didn't want any monsters to see me so you know what I did? I closed my right eye like this and tilted my head like this and with just my left eye open I just barely peeked out the bottom of the window.

And guess what I saw? Two little specks of light! I didn't look very long because I didn't want any monsters to see me so I didn't get a good look but I wondered, was it the moon I saw, or were those little specks of light eyeballs?

Now I didn't know if those were eyeballs and what if it was a monster and did I lock that front door? There was no time to run to the door and lock it. I had to figure out if that was really a monster so I'd know I had to hide somewhere. I started thinking about where a good place to hide would be, but before I did anything else I had to be brave one more time and look out that window again.

I put my hand back up on the ledge and real slow I pulled myself back up there to peek out the window again. I closed my right eye and tilted my head and looked out the bottom of the window with just my left eye. And there was tapping on the glass and the wind was howling. And you know what I saw?

A raccoon! There was a raccoon walking along the top of the fence. Those specks of light were his eyeballs. The raccoon looked at me and made this sound (combo howl/cluck) and that was him saying, "hello daddy-o of the patio!" I had put some chicken bones in the garbage and he was coming along looking for dinner, because that's when raccoons eat, late at night. I said, "hello Mr. Raccoon," and went back to bed.

I got under my covers and inside my pink castle. Then I fell asleep and dreamed about chocolate chip cookies and riding my bike. Whew, what a night that was!

Saturday Evening: Getting Rustic (and going oh fer two on cobbler)

2011-08-22T15:06:00.000-07:00

After the birthday party in Redmond we headed to our back yard. I dragged some logs out of the greenbelt to cut up for the firepit. John and Kirsten came over. We ate, drank, we watched me screw up another batch of cobbler, and called it a night.

Before we get to the cobbler fiasco, there was the debacle with the firewood. I unwittingly allowed the chainsaw blade to hit a cement block I was using as the base of a chopping block. I wonder how many laps the chain took around the bar before I saw the sparks. What I do know is that it immediately dulled the chain. I'm talking completely. I had to shut the saw down and resort to a bow saw.

At least I did a good job on the flank steak. I piled wood on like it was going out of style. Two hours later I had a nice hot bed of ash and embers to get my grill pan sizzling hot and sear the meat.

John and Kirsten came over, I forget when: 5ish perhaps, whatever, it doesn't matter. They had stopped at the store where John picked up crabs for Kelly and himself. Kirsten meanwhile came bearing cupcakes.

The last time I made cobbler, the fire was too hot. This time it wasn't hot enough. "Know your fire," the saying goes. I used a different recipe this time too. This one had Bisquick mixed with sugar and milk. Pour it over some melted butter, then add your fruit. I was using canned peaches in syrup. I drained most of the syrup off but it turned out I could have drained it all off, as it gave the middle of the cobbler somewhat of a soggy bread complexion. Meanwhile the embers were dying. I squatted down and started heaving my breath to fan the flames. I got the fire going again, eventually. But the cobbler, not really a keeper. And next time I'm using canned pie filling. Live and learn.

A nice hot grill is the key to success when cooking meat on a campfire.

The markings were good. The flavor was good too.

Kelly made her 5-bean salad as a side. Simple and delish.

A whole crab each for Kelly and John. Took them awhile to crack all the meat out of the shells.

Kirsten and the girls enjoy some cupcakes. I got in on that action myself.

Saturday Afternoon: An International Affair

2011-08-22T08:09:00.000-07:00

The Birtdhay Boy, Alex Boneva

My coworker, Julia, invited us to her son's birthday party on Saturday. Alex turned the big three on Friday, and his parents put on a major shindig at Grasslawn Park, in Redmond.

What a beautiful park. Kid friendly, lots of shady spots, and a really nice pavilion that can be rented. I don't know exactly how many kids were there but there were a bunch. Most of them Bulgarian. That's where Julia and her husband, Svet, immigrated from. They are by the way, two of the nicest people on the planet.

The party was set for 10:30 which we thought was kinda early until Julia explained that Bulgarian tradition is to be late. We fit right in by golly. By the time we arrived around 11:30 the event was in high gear.

I figured Allison and Emily would be a bit tentative and they were but soon loosened up. Here's a couple interesting twin tidbits: Besides my girls, there were two other sets of twins there. Also, as evidence of how closely Allison and Emily are, Allison really wanted to go on a playground ride; a merry-go-round kind of thing. Emily didn't want to ride it because I think it was going too fast for her comfort. Allison looked at her with a big smile and tried to coax her on, but when Emily stood her ground, Allison decided not to get on either, even when Kelly and I encouraged her to go ahead.

The coworker contingent: Brian, Natalie along with her husband Paul; and Julia (she's holding Natalie & Paul's youngest son, Andrew)

Julia introduces her son Alex to Emily while Allison hangs back. Julia also has a daughter, Christina, who was born in March but didn't attend this party. I don't who that other little girl is.

Fraternal twin sisters in the purple dresses.

Identical twin boys. It so happened it was their first birthday that day.

A new type of swing for the girls. They loved it.

The cake ceremony.

Alex and his dad, Svet, check out the gifts.

The girls snack on the cake and check out the party favors handed out to all the kids.

Julia makes the rounds.

Family Friday

2011-08-22T07:37:00.000-07:00

Friday was one of those classic laid-back sunny low key mid-August kind of days. The office was quiet. I cruised home in light traffic, breezing through all the lights in Factoria.

The only hiccup was, Kelly's parents were coming over at 4:30, which didn't really give me enough time to prepare my fire for grilling. I tried anyway, heaping on the driest wood in my stock. That happened to be the stuff with some moss on the bark, which created a lot of smoke. Right when the fire was at absolute smoke point is right when Paul came around the corner of the house. If you know Paul, you know then that I got a lecture on starting a fire. Aaron then came out and Paul told him to get his shoes on--I dunno what's the deal, but it seems like all grandparents have an issue with their grandkids going barefoot. Every friggin' time he and Ellen come over the first words out of their mouths are, "oh girls, you need to get some socks on," or some similar b/s. Drives me nuts. Anyway, pity I hadn't taken the time for my normal two shots of vodka before socializing with him.

The next thing to go wrong was me hurrying the steak on before my fire was ready. There was not enough heat; in fact, the damn thing was mostly out when I pulled the meat off the grill plate and handed it over to Kelly to finish in the oven. More comments from the peanut gallery ensued but I just rolled with it and in the end it became a non-issue.

Things improved when Paul inserted himself as Firemaster and when we talked about keeping chainsaws and axes sharp. This is when we get along best. Now that I have more interest in working on the house and have a history with him in working on projects, we have common ground. We also happen; strange as it may seem, to work well together when we do tackle a project. So as the evening progressed whatever tension there might have been dissipated. Splitting a bottle of Chateau St. Jean Chardonnay helped.

Kelly had spent the day babysitting the Drever boys. Kathy showed up after work to pick them up and share in the meal. And what a feast it was: pork roast; flank steak; five-bean salad; green salad with fresh fruit; and sauteed mushrooms and onion. And I better not forget the deviled eggs for a starter.

By the time Eric arrived after his shift at the cop shop it was going on 7:00. The rest of us had our fill of dinner and smores. There was a minor water fight between Paul and Aaron. They both love to turn the hose on each other and everyone else in proximity, though Ellen and Kathy put a definitive kibosh on any of that action. After the water works, Paul, all four kids, and me went trucking up the hill and around the corner to the private lane with the commanding view of Factoria.

Quality time with the kids.

I love seeing the patio get used like this. Ten people; chairs and table; a firepit, and still room for the kids to play.

By the time Emily finished this smore she had marshmallow stuck to her face and in her hair.

Even grandmas enjoy a well made smore.

An evening stroll (I use the term "stroll" loosely) up the hill that included a stop for blackberries. There's a private lane around the corner that terminates on a bluff with a commanding view of Factoria. Not postcard material, but it's still cool.

Eric showed up as we started on our walk. Aaron greeted his dad by diving through the window and in to the back seat.

Checkpoints--Rescheduled for Humorous Speech Contest

2011-08-19T08:42:00.000-07:00

A lot of activity on the Toastmaster speech front. For one thing, I simply cannot sit down and pencil out a speech. I have to stand and deliver, searching, feeling my way for the words, the angles and lines, openings and closings. Just the way it is with me. I've been putting some significant time in to the "Checkpoints," project.

And so I had a creative breakthrough this week and essentially have all the pieces in place. Good thing because I was starting to get concerned over the way next Wednesday is approaching with such velocity. Then a couple days ago someone from the club mentioned the annual Humorous Speech Contest taking place on September 14. Initially I dismissed the thought of joining in before reconsidering.

I'm in.

Coincidentally, the last speech I gave in the club was in last year's Humorous Speech Contest. I had used some old material that I knew was at least mildly humorous. Checkpoints is brand new material and is supposed to be humorous but if it is or not remains to be seen. I will be poking fun at myself, and trying to embed a positive message to the audience at the same time.

So why the contest and not just get it over with next week at a regular meeting? Contests are fun, and the more contestants, the more fun we have. I was the third person to throw my proverbial hat in the ring.

Giving speeches is very much a use-it-or-lose-it skill. It's been a year for me. Way too long out of the game. I'll be actively participating in club meetings for the next month to get used to the whole deal again leading up to the contest. It's a good thing. That's what I keep telling myself, anyway.

And This My Friends, Is How It Goes As A Dad of Twins

2011-08-18T11:50:00.000-07:00

Lately I've been sulking around on low energy. Kelly calls the red love seat where I usually hang my head in my hands, the "pity perch." I'm trying, folks. Trying to find my balance.

One day last week I came home to find both girls waiting for me at the top of the stairs. I scooped them up, walked over to my pity perch, sat down, and they promptly fell asleep in my arms. For the next 2 1/2 hours I sat there unable to free my arms, my shoes were still on; blah blah. Meanwhile, Kelly had grilled up a steak. Kathy showed up to pick up the boys. Her and Kelly sat at the pub table eating the steak while I was held in lockdown on the perch.

I held a cranky Allison for additional hour after she woke up. By then it was time for the bedtime routine. Four hours after I got home from work, I finally had my first minute to myself.

On Sunday we went out to Carnation where the Drever's were camping. They had other friends show up too. One guy brought his wife and three kids. His three year old daughter rode a tricycle with Ryan while he threw the football around with Eric. That looked like fun. I joined in the game of catch--until Allison and Emily came over. Kelly tried to shoo them away so I could have a speck of fun. They needed to use the restroom and insisted I escort them. "Why not," I shrugged, and detached from the guys.

Kelly pointed out that this other guy wasn't being pestered by his kids. So why was I? Let me explain my side before you go off on me.

One, we've made strides toward independence. Used to be I'd carry them both everywhere; mall, grandparents; zoo; wherever, they both wanted in my arms. People were asking me what's wrong with them or me. My point was, our pediatrician and all the literature I read was clear that you can't spoil a young child by picking them up too much. Now they jump out of the truck and bomb around. Also, if I only had one kid nobody would notice, but lugging two tykes around stands out. And three, I know there is a relatively small window of opportunity to forge an everlasting bond with Allison and Emily. Someday I won't be anywhere near the center of their universe so now is the time to build trust and let them know I'm there for them. Look, parenting is not an easy gig. Brush them off now because I'm tired or it's inconvenient, and they'll brush me off later for the same reasons.

Okay you say, but why not relocate Allison and Emily to the bedroom when they fell asleep on you. Whadrya, Farrell, a whiner? Well maybe I am. I also know better than to wake up a sleeping Allison. And even if I could have pulled it off, I don't want to shortchange my kids. Or myself. I know someday I'll be an old man passing the afternoon in a rocking chair with a wool blanket over my lap; and when I am, I don't want to look back at my life with regret. Most of all I want to know I gave my kids all of me. And yes I may bitch about it but that's just a function of being swamped with fatigue. Hey, I'm not perfect.

I also sit around muttering about the 7,564,831 things I'd like to be doing but can't because the kids have me in lockdown. They don't really. At least not nearly as much as they used to. It's just that I have a hard time starting a project when I know good and well I'm going to be interrupted. I also want to give Kelly some help. Parenting twins is often an all-hands-on-deck kind of deal.

Allison and Emily have made huge leaps in their development. Me, I'm still searching for my balance. And this my friends, is how it goes as a dad of twins.

Checkpoints

2011-08-15T07:34:00.000-07:00

On Saturday morning I decided to think about the speech I've signed up to give at Toastmasters on the 24th. The objectives of the speech are to tell a funny story to open and close the speech. Somehow the stuff in the middle needs to connect the two.

What's happened to me lately that could be translated in to funny stories? I decided on my 30 year high school reunion as an opener; how I was totally blown off and ignored, and how that made me feel like I was back in high school. Then I have one or two quirky observations about going through the checkpoints of life, ending my presentation at middle age. Talk about my colonoscopy? Nahh, I'm concerned about breaking the TM code of ethics. Well now hold the phone, maybe it's a can-do, or maybe my aversion to doctors--how being in the exam room always reminds me of my mortality. A little gallows humor, perhaps. How about when Kelly presented me with a power washer? WTF? Is that funny? Doesn't sound funny. Mmmmm, but maybe....

So there's possibilities. The speech is only 5-7 minutes, and there's probably only going to be a handful of people in the room who will quickly forget the whole thing shortly after the meeting. Still, I want to develop some good material. At least I've come up with a title, "Checkpoints." That's important to me actually, as it helps keep me focused as I round the speech in to shape.

I 'll have to go for some long walks in the evening to get the creativity flowing, then find some alone time to work it all out at full volume. Ahh yes, the TM speech prep process is underway.

More Like The Pinball, Less Like The Wizard

2011-08-12T09:52:00.000-07:00

I was bouncing around my Thursday about twenty minutes behind all the way. Funny thing was, there wasn't a lot expected of me. Still, by the time my ass hit the bar booth at DaKeg at 4:15 (15 minutes late, mind you), I was exhausted. I felt like a pinball.

Thanks to nitrous oxide I'm no longer in a state of trauma when it's time to see the dentist. I wondered aloud to Kelly yesterday over drinks, how I'm ever going to face doctors and hospitals during my inevitable end of life phase, when I can barely stand to get my teeth cleaned.

Anyway, I'll take it from the top. Getting Allison and Emily mobilized revealed two facts: (a) our house is a wasteland, and (b) it would be real smart of me to have their travel gear packed up the night before.

As they lounged on the couch watching Barney (he's making a comeback in the girls favor apparently), I searched for the girls purses. Found the blue one. The pink one was nowhere to be seen. I found one pink sandal. You'd think the mate would be close by. Nope. In the end I stuffed a few extra clothes in to a backpack, nuked some pancakes for their snack cups, rounded up their favorite blankets, along with Winnie and Piglet, and herded the girls who were still in their pajamas, out to the Suburban. Sweat was streaking my cheeks and dampening the back of my head.

I've settled on Dr. Austin as my dentist. He and his staff understand that I have anxiety issues and they really try to accommodate me. His hygienist is Courtney. I had my doubts about her early on but now I trust her. Her professional manner is so by the book I thought at first she was a rookie. At an earlier appointment in which I saw her coming at me with the needle to administer Novocaine for a filling I thought oh boy, I'm in for it. She did great. She also figured out not to turn off the nitrous until the cleaning procedure is completely over, and that I should be riding my gas high even for xrays. Those accommodations break standard operating procedure at their office, but if it keeps me calm, they're willing.

Yesterday was just a cleaning. But it's tight quarters inside my mouth and I have a big tongue that doesn't take kindly to invaders. With the nitrous and my IPod I made it through my one hour appointment without incident.

Meanwhile, the treasury group had a lunch planned to celebrate Julia's 5 year service anniversary, and to say thank you to Suzanne for filling in while Julia was on maternity leave. To accommodate my dentist appointment, we were scheduled to walk over to an eatery called Taphouse, at 12:15. There I was, running late. I was woozy too. As I pulled out onto Factoria Boulevard from the dentist office the thought occurred to me that I probably shouldn't be behind the wheel of a hulking Suburban. Thanks to years of experience driving under the influence I pulled it off.

We finally got on our way to the Taphouse. It's a block from the office. The fresh air did me good. I had a burger with pancetta and Gorgonzola. Two leisurely hours later we got back to our cubicles.

I had just enough time to get the afternoon banking done before meeting up with Kelly per our custom when she works, at DaKeg for Happy Hour. People were trying to talk to me and ask me questions as I logged off. I walked in to the bar of DaKeg 15 minutes behind schedule.

Kelly was sitting there in a booth and sipping a vodka martini. I started with the happy hour Cabernet then remembered my commitment to white wine for August and made the switch. Two more glasses later I was feeling adequately relaxed.

Night Terrors

2011-08-10T14:51:00.000-07:00

A couple nights ago Allison woke up screaming hysterically. It's a happened a couple times, actually. It's like she's having a bad dream; and maybe still dreaming with her eyes open, as she doesn't always seem to be fully awake. It's akin to a full blown tantrum: screaming demands, crying, kicking her legs, thrashing on the bed. It borders on freaky.

We contained her so she didn't hurt herself until she calmed down to where I could pick her up. I held for 20 minutes or so, her arms draped around my neck, head buried in my shoulder. We've been through enough tantrums that I can tell when she's coming out of it. The tone of her voice eventually changed. She even said she was ready to go back to bed. I laid her down. She rolled over to her side, I pulled up the covers, and it was over.

Some Internet Research 101 led to the following diagnosis; a phenomenon known as "Night Terrors." Night Terrors are usually triggered by being overly tired. Check. They can also be triggered by separation anxiety. Well what do you know, we had been talking about them starting preschool, so, check. And they can also be triggered by them being on the cusp of a developmental leap. Maybe that played a part as well.

Our evening routine has been duly re-tooled to foster a timely bedtime. We've worked it down from an out of control 11:00 PM to about 9:30 the last couple nights. And no pillow-talk about preschool is allowed. There is no television watching in the evening either. It's so easy to turn on that TV but really you're just making it harder on yourself.

I'm also against administering timeouts, spanking, and other disciplinary actions as we close down for the night. I want everyone to go to bed happy, feeling positive, and looking forward to the next day. Taking those weapons away can make getting them to bed really hard, given the girls stall tactics and their sometimes dismissive attitude when we tell them to do something. Our best option has been to threaten The Wooden Spoon. They've never been spanked with The Wooden Spoon, and never will be but they don't know that so when we bring it up they immediately stop misbehaving. Someday they'll call our bluff. Then what, I don't know. We're still figuring things out as parents, which is made all the harder when you consider how fast situations change.

The goal is clear: to get them to bed without drama, and get them to sleep without suffering a bout with Night Terrors.

The Ride: Kelly And Me Celebrate 18 Years

2011-08-10T07:49:00.000-07:00

October 1991 at a wedding in Seattle

Kelly and me hitched it up 18 years ago this past Sunday. That followed three years of dating and a one year engagment. Might have been a bit slow on the whole process-- I remember when I proposed she asked me if I had been hit by lightening.

As a gesture of goodwill, I sat down with her dad a week before proposing to tell him of my intentions. Paul was sitting in his recliner. His eyes closed; he rocked backward and shooed Kathy; who was 21 years old at the time, out of the room. That evening for me, was the most nervewracking part of the whole shebang.

The big night was the next Sunday. We had dinner at Armondo's; a little Italian joint in Renton, then went up to Snoqualmie Falls where I popped the question. After agreeing to marry me, Kelly and I sat in the lodge and had a couple drinks.

I sold my motorcycle and cancelled my cable TV to help foot the bill for the ring. Later, I sold my dad's property in Greenwater that I had inherited, and used the proceeds for a downpayment on our first home, a condo just a mile from where we live now. We lived there for six years before moving in to our current house.

These past 18 years have gone so fast, it scares me how fast I'm hurtling toward old age. And the older I get, the more I seem to have on my to do list, rather than less. No slowing down for The Patman. And no one I'd rather have at my side than Kelly for the ride.

Summer of 1989. One of my first visits to Kelly's house.

August 1991 at Kelly's parents house. She had just purchased her Nissan after graduating from nursing school and getting a job at Providence (now Swedish Providence), in Seattle.

Sunday: Hits And Mishaps

2011-08-09T07:50:00.000-07:00

Frolicking in a sculpture just inside the zoo entrance.

Sunday was SeaFair Sunday in Seattle. We never partake other than to watch the Blue Angels on TV. I'll usually watch one heat of a boat race just to get the flavor of things. Not this past Sunday. We hit the road; to Point Defiance Zoo, in Tacoma. Per custom of late, we had a great time that was punctuated with mishap.

I tell ya what, the Tacoma waterfront is every bit if not more beautiful than Alki Beach in west Seattle. It was a gorgeous morning; traffic was light; and personally, I was in the mood for an outing. Kelly too, as she didn't mess around and hustled us all out the door.

We were thinking the zoo may not be that busy for a Sunday given that it was SeaFair which gives rise to parties all over the city. We thought wrong. Nevertheless, what a difference a year makes. We bought a season pass to Woodland Park Zoo last spring and the first couple visits had me carrying the girls around in my arms. Now they run ahead, causing us to continually yell after them to wait up.

Point Defiance kicks a** on Woodland Park in every way. Free parking, more scenic, better displays, and it's cheaper to get in.

The big hit was the aquarium. We watched walrus swim by from our underwater vantage; we watched seals play; and the girls especially liked the shark tank.

The afternoon was heating up. We stopped off at an ice cream stand. They make a whopping cone there at the zoo. So much ice cream Emily couldn't finish hers. Allison did. And she paid for it.

It became clear the girls were tiring. We headed back to the barn. Just outside of Auburn on Highway 167, Allison puked. And puked. And puked. Too much ice cream that she topped off with a box of apple juice did her in.

I cut across traffic, veering to an exit and in to the parking lot of a truck stop. We know enough to bring extra clothes when we go out so Allison stripped out of her puke-laden outfit. Her car seat was soaked. Kelly broke it down, laid it out in the parking lot, and using a bottle of water, napkins, and hand sanitizer, set to cleaning it all up. Meanwhile, I went in to the truck stop and bought Allison a bottle of Sprite. She was feeling better after the upchuck, and was all smiles.

The Point Defiance Zoo sits on the edge of Puget Sound. It was a warm day with a sea breeze blowing across the beautiful zoo grounds.

Kelly kept telling Emily to lean out so she could take her picture. I wasn't so keen on the request--she's leaning out over a shark tank.

There was a display to show how small of openings mice can get through.

Allison and Emily both wanted to get in the pool with the seals.

The walrus. That was really cool watching them from under water.

Ice cream seemed like a good idea on this hot afternoon.

Good idea gone wrong--Kelly cleaning up after Allison's puke-fest.

Saturday: Hits And Mishaps

2011-08-08T10:55:00.000-07:00

We've been letting Allison and Emily stay up too late. Kelly and me have been staying up too late ourselves for that matter. In an effort to get the entire cranked out Farrell family to calm the f*ck down on Saturday, we hit the road. With mixed results.

The Good: discovering Denny Creek. We took the Jeep eastbound on I-90 up to Snoqualmie. After passing the ranger station where I had started my snowshoe adventure this past winter, we continued to descend, all the way in to the Mt. Baker woods along the old trail the wagon trains used back in the day. It's beautiful country. We came to Denny Creek and swung through the campground. I have since vowed to return with a tent and my dutch oven.

The Bad: Before setting off on this Farrell Family Outing, little Ms. Allison was sitting behind the steering wheel pretending to drive. That means she was also pushing all the buttons on the dash and console. Fast forward to leaving Denny Creek and getting back on the freeway; just outside North Bend, the Jeep lost power, then got it back, then lost it. So it went with us limping toward the off ramp, where I sputtered in to a Chevron station. Kelly read the owners manual while I took the girls in for a snack break. Turning the ignition off then back on reset the system, and we were fine.

But what if I was trying to negotiate the twisting wagon trail and lost power? No guard rails and steep drops. Scary thoughts.

In the evening we dropped the girls at Kathy and Eric's and headed for DaKeg for our anniversary dinner celebration. The Zable's were babysitting their nephew so we were on our own. A vodka martini to start along with an appetizer. Then a New York for me and a prime rib for Kelly. We had a bottle of Chardonnay to accompany our meal. It was so good, so refreshing, I'm switching to white wine for the rest of the month.

We mentioned to our server; Lisa, that it was our anniversary. She brought us a piece of cake, compliments of DaKeg. Meanwhile, it seems Kevin is working there less and less. Lisa is proving to be a capable successor.

We ended the evening on the patio with a glass of champagne and a fire.

The Morning After

2011-08-08T08:47:00.000-07:00

After our big night out on Thursday, we all slept in on Friday. Kelly made a breakfast casserole and a carafe of coffee. We ate, drank the coffee, chatted, drank more coffee, broke out the picnic basket for yet another meal (and Joan wasn't sure she'd brought enough!); then drank a third carafe of coffee while we chatted about kitchen remodels.

Bob in fact got out the measuring tape, jotted down some specs, and let us pick his brain. It never occurred to me until he mentioned it that yes, we could center the sink in the middle of the window, and we could move the pass-through over, and widen the entryway. He also talked about moving the wall oven to the other end of the kitchen. Never thought of that either. New possibilities abounded.

I've also ran in to multiple dead ends trying to get financial assistance for my mom. So I vented about how useless the VA is, and Bob volunteered to see if he could make some headway. By the time we got around to eating and after drinking a massive amount of coffee and gabbing, next thing we knew, the better part of the day had slipped by.

I was hoping Ellen would bring the girls home in time for a visit with Joan and Bob before they took off. They hung out with us until after 3:00 but the girls still weren't home. We said our goodbyes. I headed for the patio where I dozed for almost two hours. I woke up, started a fire, and kicked back again.

At 7:00 Ellen returned the girls to us. I was afraid they'd be tired and fussy. They were neither. John and Kirsten showed up about a half hour later. We drank a couple bottles of wine. Emily spent most of her time on Kirsten's lap while Allison watched TV.

Bob and Kelly kick around ideas for a kitchen remodel.

Chris Isaak at Chateau St. Michelle

2011-08-08T08:39:00.000-07:00

A highlight of summer for Kelly and me is the annual Chris Isaak concert at the Chateau St. Michelle Winery. This was the third time we've seen him play there and while all his shows have been stellar, this one was extraordinarily good. Adding to the festivities was being in the company of Joan and Bob and the outlandish picnic Joan prepared.

The weather on Thursday was perfect in my book: 75 degrees or so, sunny blue skies, and a light, refreshing breeze. Joan and Bob were already at my house when I pulled in at 3:30. On the way down our hill they passed Ellen who was on the way out with Allison and Emily for a sleepover.

An hour later we pulled in to the winery. The gates open at 5:00; and having beaten the rush, we landed a prime parking spot. We carried our gear: coolers, chairs, and blankets, to a staging area with a bunch of other early birds, where we kicked back for awhile before being let in to stake our claim.

Once in, I sauntered off to the wine tent for two bottles of Merlot and one bottle of Chardonnay. When I got back to our spot a huge spread of food was laying out on the blanket. Marinated pork in a mustard sauce; marinated mushrooms; deviled eggs, stuffed cherry tomatoes, a meat and cheese platter; some sort of flat bread, fresh fruit salad; fresh spinach with with feta, fruit, and a raspberry vinaigrette; brownies, and choco truffles. We gorged, sipped wine (two more trips were made to the wine tent), and we chatted from our beach chairs for a couple hours before the opening act, a duo called Malibu Manouche, took the stage for a laid back thirty minute set.

At 8:00 Chris Issak and his band kicked off their show. His music fits the winery venue perfectly. Isaak is also a great entertainer. The middle aged audience was in party mode. In past shows; besides his own hits, he's covered classics like Neil Diamond's "Solitary Man," This year he talked about taking his band in to Sun Studios. Consequently, he covered the likes of Elvis ("Can't Help Falling Love) ; Johnny Cash (Ring of Fire), and Roy Orbison (Pretty Woman).

Our prime parking spot facilitated a quick getaway. We were home and sitting on the patio around a fire by 10:30. We broke out the picnic basket for another go of it. By midnight we were gorged, full of wine, and happily tired.

Sitting around waiting for the gates to open.

Just a fraction of the feast Joan made for us.

All smiles what with our wine buzz and on a food high. Along with the music and the venue, it was an awesome night.

Just Like The Old Days

2011-08-04T11:36:00.000-07:00

Kelly pushed the girls around the block in the stroller on Wednesday afternoon. Had not done that for awhile. Basically not since they learned how to walk. In the evening they wanted to go again. This time I pushed the stroller while Kelly stayed home. Just like the old days.

I told Allison and Emily I would take them on the same route I used to take them when they were little babies. They of course don't remember those daily 45 minutes stroller rides in which they got out of the house, I got some exercise, and Kelly got to regroup.

It's a different story now I tellya. Collectively, that's 80 pounds worth of kiddos I was pushing up the hill as I left the driveway. By the time I got to the stop sign I was bent over at the waist, arms extended, using the stroller as a crutch. Cornering was hard too. Used to just whip the stroller around as I pleased. I had to make a couple J turns this time. The other difference was seating assignments. Allison and Emily switched it up, with Allison riding as "Maverick" (how appropriate) and Emily in the "Goose" slot.

Seems like so long ago when I used to take them out in the stroller. I miss it but I don't miss it if you know what I mean. And just like the old days, they were both asleep by the time we got home.

Allison Gets Shingled Out

2011-08-03T11:03:00.000-07:00

Allison has been diagnosed with a minor case of shingles. WTF?

A red splotch discovered on her left thigh on Friday had spread down her leg and wrapped around to her back by Saturday evening. Sunday it was inching further down her leg. Monday morning we had her in the doctor's office.

"I can see why you're here," said the doctor as she came in the room. The nurse who proceeded her had asked Allison to take off her jeans. Emily was there as well. She was feeling left out apparently, because she piped up. "I want to take off my clothes too." The girls have been watching an episode of Caillou in which he gets the chicken pox and has to go to the doctor. So they were thrilled to see the doctor just like Caillou did. In fact, Kelly and the girls were called back to the exam room before I arrived. When I walked in, Allison was beaming. "I'm getting a checkup!"

Anyway, how does a 3 1/2 year old contract shingles? Something to do with her chicken pox vaccination when she was a year old. Honestly, I got lost in the details. What I know is that the virus is tracking along a nerve in her leg. The doctor said they see a few cases every year.

There is no blistering of the skin; Allison doesn't have a fever either, and she hasn't been slowed down in any way other than itching and some discomfort when her jeans rub against the rash. She was given a drug to help arrest spreading. Treatment plan is four doses a day, make sure she takes in lots of fluids, and keep her leg covered. Hopefully it will run it's course in a couple weeks.

Kelly and me started wondering about our vulnerability to shingles from being exposed to Allison. After the doctor appointment I headed for the Safeway pharmacy to get an immunization shot. That's when I found out if you're younger than 60 you need a prescription. Kelly called my doctor. We went on to discover that a vaccination shot will boost our immune system, but being exposed to Allison doesn't make us any more likely to get shingles.

Here's one for ya too--getting the shot at the Safeway pharmacy would have set me back $300 and is not covered by insurance, compared to getting it at the doctor's office where insurance covers it all. In the end, we skipped the shot.

Meanwhile, Allison seems to be doing fine. We're cautiously optimistic that the virus has stopped spreading. The rash doesn't look as angry. Still, I won't stop fretting until I know Allison is back to 100% health.

Parents #1 Asset: Resolve

2011-08-03T07:44:00.000-07:00

I used to think what a parent needed most was patience; the ability to roll with the changes that mark early child development. Hey what the hell did I know, I was a rookie parent. Still am pretty much. Lately it's become clear to me that patience is not nearly enough to carry me through the frustration, despair, utter hopelessness and sense of total failure I sometimes feel. What I need is a heaping helping of resolve.

It's one thing to put up with an unacceptable situation, whether it's pulling the dog's tail, throwing toys off the deck, using an entire roll of toilet paper during a bathroom break, scooping the bathwater out of the tub and onto the floor, slamming doors, jumping on the furniture; running away when it's time for shoes and coats; sneaking out of bed after lights out; I could go on all day.. I've experienced all this and so much more, gritting my teeth and muttering (okay, sometimes I shout), I just can't go on living like this. It's quite another thing to have the resolve to achieve the desired behavior.

Allison and Emily are 3 1/2 years old. We can communicate now. Understanding what is being communicated is where we disconnect. Sometimes they just don't get it. Making them understand is about resolve, not patience. I equate patience with tolerance. Resolve takes patience to the next level. It includes teaching, taking action, and consequences.

I'm resolved to have resolve. Life can be such a vicious circle.

The Mysterious Mind

2011-08-02T08:11:00.000-07:00

I took over a couple of Julia's projects while she was on maternity leave. The biggest one is working through a series of ratio calculations at the end of each fiscal quarter. This involves breaking down the financials and in the end tying out to EBITDA (Earnings Before Interest, Taxes, Depreciation and Amortization). This is made as difficult as possible because lawyers wrote the credit agreement that lays out the methodology. You basically have to work backwards. So no wonder that last quarter I worked on a particularly convoluted section of the calc for two weeks before getting reconciled.

I was so happy to hear Julia was returning in time to do the calcs for the quarter ended June 30. I did however have to get things started until she got back up to speed. Once again I got stuck on that convoluted section. Last week I handed over the project to Julia. Good riddance. Or so I thought.

My brain it seems, kept working on it even though my conscious thinking had moved on.

Now the stupid thing is, I can figure out what the number is easy enough. So I started by doing my own recon process to determine what number I wanted to end up with at the end of the calculation. The problem is laying it out per the confines of the lawyers rigmarole. You have to back out a lot of account balances, add in certain pieces of other accounts, and about 50 line items later there you have it.

Julia got stuck too. I stepped back in for another look. We did the backing out and adding back in; drilled in to accounts to analyze transactions, and tried to think out of the box for things maybe not considered per the lawyers rigmarole that would nevertheless impact the calc. This has been going on for over a week. Out of reconciling $96 million, we were off by $107K at the end of yesterday.

This morning at 3:00 A.M I woke up with the answer. Three journal entries that in my head netted to the amount we've been off. When I got in to work I opened the file, plugged in the numbers, and ta-da, right on the money.

I've stated in a recent post that I've been mentally and emotionally processing a funeral; contemplating my mom's situation; and fretting over a mysterious rash on Allison's leg (she went to the doctor yesterday--it's a mild case of Shingles. More on that later). Plus I have my regular workload to deal with, parenting, my novel, an upcoming Toastmaster's speech, and all the other crap that runs through my head. And yet despite all this my brain continued to mull over a muddled accounting concept without me even aware it was doing it. And it's totally crazy to me that the answer woke me up in the middle of the night.

Sunday: Ellen's Birthday Party

2011-08-01T07:47:00.000-07:00

Ellen's birthday was on Thursday but due to scheduling conflicts we held off celebrating until Sunday. Usually the weather is hot on her birthday, leading to the cramming of all ten of us on to the wine deck, Paul grilling brawts, burgers, or sometimes steaks, and water fights always started by The Tornado. This year the weather; following a gorgeous Saturday, was gray and cool. In fact it rained overnight and I had the Jeep out in the driveway with the sunroof off. Oh well. So any-whoski, we spent the afternoon in the house eating KFC chicken; Kelly and me teamed up on a trifle, and we had a swig of champagne. And really not much more than that.

Ellen had dropped off Allison and Emily around seven the previous evening following their sleepover. They were bushed. Emily was fussy and crying. Allison fell asleep on me. As she lay in my lap, I noticed a large splotchy rash on her leg that wrapped up to the small of her back.  She had been outside in her swimsuit; sitting on the grass in the backyard a day earlier, and she has my sensitive skin. We're thinking it's a reaction to bug bites. The good news is that it doesn't seem to bother her, it hasn't slowed her down, and on Sunday morning looked if anything like it had calmed down a bit. So we're keeping a watchful eye.

Between my brain still processing the funeral for Lorraine;  contemplating my mom's situation; and fretting over Allison's rash; I enjoyed (not!) a sleepless night. And when I say sleepless I mean not a cockadoodle wink.

The house was running on low energy on Sunday morning.  Kelly had been up past 1:00 AM making the custard for the trifle. So she was zonked. We didn't see her until around 10:30. I didn't work in the yard, didn't go for a walk, didn't blah blah. Nada. Nothingness.

At 1:45; with the girls loaded up for the ride to Paul and Ellen's, I busted out a bottle of vodka from the freezer and downed a shot. Just to take the edge off, mind you. Sometimes these "parties" get tense.

Today was not the case. Paul and Ellen still seem tired from their trip to Europe. The girls hopped out of the truck in their fancy dresses, the ones with the lace hems and bows in the back. And barefoot. The cameras came out but the girls weren't in a mood of cooperation. We sat around quietly; no TV, no music, until the Drever's showed up a half hour or so later. Lunch was served. Paul had picked up a truckload of KFC that he was keeping warm in a roaster on low heat in the oven. We ate that along with a salad that Kathy had brought, and fresh rolls.

We usually kick back to digest before opening gifts and then come back for desert. Not this day.  We swung right in to the trifle. And we devoured the entire thing in a single fell swoop. I mean, we just went at it. No modesty. No pretending to be full. I loved it.

On our Friday night freedom cruise Kelly had mined TJ Maxx for an outfit for her mom as a birthday gift. The real gem though was the photo we framed up for her; a 4x6 of Ellen standing out in our driveway with the girls as they were leaving for their first ever sleepover.

We also broke with tradition by sitting in the formal living room rather than the family room The diff? There's a lot of sentimental artifacts in Paul and Ellen's living room and most of them are breakable. Four kids tearing around in there? Not a good idea. As the energy level ramped up, Paul suggested a change of venue. Not wanting my kids to be resposnible for any damage, I moved them to the family room and pretended to supervise when actually I dropped off in to a power nap.

The group disbursed around the downstairs in to various conversations while the kids continued to chase each other; build abstract figures with Lego's; put together a wooden train track; and scream for no reason other than pure exuberance.

You never know what's on the menu at Ellen's birthday party. That's because Paul organizes the event. Sometimes he feels like grilling; sometimes we go European. This year we went KFC. Fine by everyone.

Emily stuffed almost an entire roll of bread in her gullet. Took her about ten minutes to process.

The trifle makes an appearance. Layers of custard, Ladyfingers soaked in Cream Sherry, and fresh strawberries, blueberries, and raspberries. We killed that entire bowl in a few short minutes.

Allison is a freak for Ladyfingers on their own. Not so much when they become part of the trifle. Paul brought out some ice cream for the kids. That left more trifle for the rest of us. Winner.

Paul and Ellen brought gifts for the kids home from Europe. Lots of gifts. It was like Christmas.

The girls received necklaces, dresses, shoes, purses, and bracelets.

Allison modeling her new purse and bracelets.

The kids loved it when Eric pretended to be sleeping. They got right up to his ear and let out a collective scream.

Lorraine's Funeral

2011-07-30T18:32:00.001-07:00

My cousins: Marcia on the far left, and Nancy, daughter of Lorraine

My mom's oldest sister, Lorraine, died on July 12. She was 90 years old and had been living in Arizona since the 1970's. The funeral was on Saturday in Seattle, at Evergreen Washelli. That by the way, is where I set the scenes for the first and last chapters of A Time of Reckoning. Anyway, Lorriane is buried next to her first husband, Elmo.

So that leaves my mom as the last Hendrickson standing.

Last time I saw my Aunt Lorraine was in 1979 when I tagged along with my parents for a road trip to Mesa. My last conversation with her was last year. She was calling to get an update on her little sister, my mom.

Lorraine outlived both her sons. She has a daughter, Nancy, who took care of her the last eleven months of her life. Nancy called me last week and after talking to her, I knew I should go; to pay my respects to Lorraine, and as a show of support for Nancy.

Allison and Emily were having a sleepover. I woke up, went for a walk, sat around drinking coffee, and washed the Suburban. We picked up a sympathy card on the way out of Bellevue. Wouldn't you know it; we were strapped for time and as we got in the 'burb at Bartell's the oil light came on. So it was back home to add a quart.

I didn't have many details about the service so when I got to the cemetery I headed for where my grandparents are buried, thinking that would be a logical place to start. Evergreen Washelli is big, taking up both sides of Aurora Avenue. I looped around the west side. Nobody looked familiar. No graveside services going on. The business office was open but unattended. Finally I called my cousin Marcia. Turned out the service was across the street. Figures.

The service was in progress when we arrived. Kelly and I snuck up from behind. I recognized Nancy sitting in the front row under the small tent. Lorraine's grandson was sitting next to her. I spotted a few other familiar faces as the pastor delivered the short eulogy.

After, I said my hellos. Some people I hadn't seen in years. Marlene was the second wife of Lorriane's oldest son, Elmo, who is buried across the lane from Lorraine . Then there was Robbie, ex-wife to Lorraine's younger son. Tom died a few years ago. Robbie reminded me that I was the ring bearer at their wedding. And that was about the last time I had seen her until Saturday.

The group went over and put flowers on Elmo's grave. About 100 feet from Elmo lies Bernice. She's buried next to her husband, who died in 1978. Flowers were put on her grave too.

From there it was off to the 125th Street Grill for a meal and chit chat. Some people remembered my dad and coming over to our house in Brier. That was interesting. Some people thought I was still a baker. That's how long it's been and how far out of the loop I've strayed.

Pretty much everyone has a Facebook account. Maybe the loop will be closed. Too bad someone has to die to bring the family together but ain't that the way it goes.

After the service the group went across the lane to put flowers on the grave of Lorraine's oldest son, Elmo.

Not far from Elmo is Bernice.

Nancy, Marcia, and Gloria putting flowers on Bernice's grave. Marcia and Gloria are the daughters of my mom's brother, Herbert.

Catching up over a meal. left side of the table: Nancy, Marcia's husband, John, Bill (I think he's the second husband to Elmo's first wife, Jane, who was also there); then Stephanie and Tom, Lorraine's grandchildren. On the end, don't know. Right side: Sharon and Gloria. They came down from Canada.

Saying goodbye: Gloria with her arm around Nancy. Robbie is talking to David.

Friday Night Freedom Cruise

2011-07-30T18:32:00.000-07:00

Allison and Emily slept over at their grandparent's house on Friday night. Kelly and me didn't have any plans; in fact, I was late getting out of work. It was a beautiful summer night. I popped the top off the Jeep, and we cruised.

First stop was Torerro's. Yes I know it's now called Ricardo's but I'm old school. We had a couple Margaritas each and an order of nachos. Then it was off to Coulon Park for a leisurely stroll along the beach. That ended up a no-go. Coulon was jam packed. Absolutely no parking. I looped through then headed for the Newcastle Golf Course. It has a commanding view from it's hilltop station. We parked, moseyed around a bit, then spilt. Next stop: TJ Maxx. Kelly still needed to get her mom a birthday present. We took a spin through Target too since it's right next door. To wrap up the evening, it was a nightcap at DaKeg.

This is how we kicked off our Friday evening. I wasn't hungry the rest of the night.

The windswept golf course with it's million dollar views on a spectacular July evening.

A shopper's paradise. Like the dollar store, only with some quality.

Kelly went the G&T route. A summertime favorite. That balsamic glaze was dreamy.

A lovely evening is capped off by a glass of Cabernet at my favorite watering hole..

Happy Hour Comes Back To Bite Me

2011-07-24T08:36:00.001-07:00

It was Thursday. The ever present marine layer hung over the Eastside, making for a gray summer day and cooling things off a good ten degrees below normal. Kelly put in a shift at Overlake. By the time I did the morning work routine from home; got the kids dropped off at Auntie Kathy's; got to the office; handled a special project that had come up in the morning with an afternoon deadline; and got caught up to an acceptable level of being behind, I was ready for a Happy Hour. And I was ready for an extra glass of wine at Happy Hour. I wanted a Happy Happy Hour. I should have known better It came back to bite me.

Kelly and me were sitting in the bar of DaKeg at 4:00 sharp. I had been so busy I had skipped eating until about an hour earlier, when I scarfed some Beef Noodle Soup. I snacked on skewered beef at DaKeg. I wanted that third glass of wine because that's the one that takes me in to Wine Buzz Country. So I went willingly

The usual routine is, Kelly stops by her sister's place to pick up the girls and to visit a bit while I cruise home to crank up either a Bruce or Pink concert on DVD. Lately it's been Pink. This was the case on Thursday. It's one of the few opportunities I have to blast the surround sound. The girls come home; I turn the volume back down so I don't get arrested for child abuse, and the girls; worn out from a full day of playing, sit on our laps and watch the TV with us for a few minutes before the bedtime routine. Springsteen they're not into but Pink they like.

The girls went to bed. Fussing or not fussing I don't remember, so it must have been uneventful. Meanwhile, the noodle soup and skewered beef couldn't handle the food craving that came with my wine buzz. At 9:30 I was off to Safeway for nacho fixins. We ate those as we watched the Tour de France. At midnight we called it a wrap.

Three hours later Emily work up. I should have expected something like this would happen. I dunno what her deal was. I was hoping she needed only for the blankets to be adjusted or a back rub. She instead woke up wide eyed and chatty. There I am at 3:30 in the morning; on three hours of sleep, having a conversation with her about the Dragonfly and birdies she saw out in the driveway when she got home from Auntie Kathy's, when I should have been getting some much needed shuteye.

By the time I got her settled back down it was 4:00 AM. I was wide awake. Worse, by the time I dropped back off it would have been time to get up for work. I was stuck.

Because I had only drank wine and because I had stopped drinking at 5:00 in the evening, and because I ate nachos; and had drank a quart of vitamin water with my nachos, a hangover was thankfully not an issue, In fact as usually happens in these circumstances, I was feeling peachy when I got to work. Then I started fading. I was bushed by evening. And despite that, we stayed up until midnight again. Damn that Tour de France...

I can't live like that anymore. I need a new operating system. One that's not programmed for wine buzzes and late night snacks. Old habits die hard..

Beer Circles

2011-07-24T08:36:00.000-07:00

Before the age of the microbrew there were few choices for beer. I drank a lot of Bud, a lot of Miller, some Rainer, some Rhinelander (I liked their little keg shaped bottle), and I even used to buy generic beer--you of course remember the white cans that simply said, "Beer" (we used to refer to it as "Beer beer").   If you wanted to be super cool, you'd get your hands on a prized beer in Washington; a new concoction brewed in Colorado and available in Idaho. It was called Coors.

Along came Red Hook. I didn't know what to make of it at first. An acquired taste I guess.  I acquired the taste. McTarnahans followed, then Alaskan Amber. I went on to drink beer with crazy ingredients like coffee, and blueberries for crying out loud. I tried unfiltered beer, bitter beers, stout beers, and beers with stupid names that I thought were cool at the time, like Slag Heap Ale.

Then I didn't drink beer at all. Well, except for with wings or nachos.  Enter the wine stage.   I was always conscientious of how at DaKeg I would be sitting there with my glass of Merlot while Kelly was drinking Guinness Stout.

I was lost.

Kelly's dad loves European Pilsners. Of course, he loves anything European but that's another story. I only drank that stuff at his house at first; when he brought it out to go with pork roasts and weinershintzel.  Later, since Paul was helping me so much with my home improvement projects I made sure to have those Pilsners on hand as a thank you,

Then I got to a place where I didn't want to open a bottle of wine on weeknights. It's hard to stick to a single glass, and I'm all about feeling good these days. So I started drinking a bottle of beer. One bottle is just the right amount on those nights I feel like having a little something alcoholic. And I'd come to prefer those light Pilsners.

One day last week I asked myself why I was paying premium prices for the European stuff,. If I wanted to go with something light and easy, why not just go with good 'ol Budweiser? A half rack for the price of a Euro six-pack.

So I'm right back to where I started. It's taken about thirty years to make the circle.

A New Era Begins: Campfire Cooking

2011-07-24T08:35:00.000-07:00

Sitting on my patio is such a simple yet wonderful pleasure. Evenings out there by a fire are quickly becoming a family tradition. Emily in fact, asks for a campfire every day. I decided to add to the experience. I'm talking about campfire cooking.

After showing Kelly a You Tube video of a guy making apple cobbler in a campfire using a Dutch Oven, she went out to Target and bought one for me. I guess she didn't want to chance having me destroy the nice ceramic one she uses. Good call on her part.

I gave apple cobbler a go on Friday night. Campfire measurements are totally a combo of eyeballing and adding whatever ingredients you like. I pretty much stuck to how the guy on the You Tube clip made his cobbler.

I set the Dutch Oven in the fire that had burned down to hot embers. Added a stick of butter. Then I threw in five Granny Smith apples. Peels on. A handful of brown sugar followed, then cinnamon, nutmeg, some apple juice, and a good squeeze from the honey bottle. I made the topping with rolled oats, flour, brown sugar and butter. The campfire method is to squish this mixture together, form in to patties that are sett on top of the apples, cover, and cook.

I made a tactical mistake which led to overcooking the cobbler. And by overcooking, not only did it detract from the taste value, it also made one hellacious mess. Hey, there's a learning curve to everything. Here's what I learned based on Friday night's cobbler.

1) Peel the damn apples
2) Make the topping before adding the apples. This was my tactical mistake. The apples cook down fast, so the topping needs to go on right away to allow adequate time for caramelization.
3) Put coals/embers on top of the Dutch Oven.

I'm looking forward to trying again next weekend. Maybe I'll have the hellacious mess cleaned out of my Dutch Oven by then.

I need either a longer handled spoon or goggles.

I Love It But I'll Be Glad When The Tour de France Is Over

2011-07-22T08:01:00.000-07:00

Kelly and I started watching the Tour de France back when Lance Armstrong was in his heyday, winning seven of them. What a race: three weeks covering over 2,000 miles in all kinds of weather. They ride through valleys, country villages, past farms; along wide, flat, highways, and down narrow cobble stoned streets; across rolling hillsides, up mountains, and fly at nearly 60 mph on the twisting descents, which are my personal favorite to watch. What a physical toll it takes on everybody, including me. I do after all, have to be in my cubicle early in the morning.

This photo is of Mark "The Manx Missile" Cavendish grabbing one of his four stage victories so far on this year's tour. He's almost unbeatable in the sprint finishes. A dude named Mark Renshaw is Cav's leadout man and his competitiveness borders on nasty; that makes him one of the best at what he does. Last year in fact, Renshaw got kicked out of the race for headbutting a rival to create more space for Cavendish. Cavendish stays on Renshaw's rear wheel until about 300 meters from the finish, then he explodes to the line. The way those guys work as a team is a thing of beauty and is exciting to see.

The drama, the spectacle, the strategies, and the beauty of France, put the tour in the "must watch TV" category. Unfortunately, the time we watch is late night. Going to bed at midnight is taking a toll. I love the race but I'll be glad when it's over. Who do I want to win? Andy Schleck.

Novel Writing Resumes

2011-07-19T09:24:00.000-07:00

On Saturday morning I relocated my home laptop from the coffee table downstairs; where it's nearly impossible to write or even concentrate, to the pub table in the kitchen. My mission: get back to novel writing. Probably I was inspired by my recent stint as Toastmaster, where I talked about my journey as an author.

Literally, as I was typing my first sentence, Allison let out a cry from her bedroom. I stopped in mid-sentence to check on her. She was laying diagonally in the bed and complaining that Emily was bugging her when in fact it was she who needed to adjust her position. I did this for her. Emily let out a cry as I sat back down at my computer. She didn't appreciate being woken up by Allison. So I rubbed her back for a couple minutes. Twenty minutes and three more trips to the girls' room later, I completed a four sentence paragraph.

I wrote about a page in all. I'm working on my newest (started in July 2008) project. I had quickly scanned the 50 pages or so I had previously written to help me remember where I was and where I wanted to go. Without thinking too hard, I just lit in to it. After writing A Time of Reckoning (which still needs revisions), I learned that the best way to write a novel; for me anyway, is to just get the story down without worrying about details, punctuation, or anything else that could cause a slowdown in the outlet of my creativity. Quite often I'll insert notes for future reference.

The ideas; dammed up in my head for so long, are spilling out now. The issue of course is time. I have the weekend mornings. But I need more. My best bet: before work. That's when I wrote the bulk of A Time of Reckoning. Early mornings are quiet and I'm fresh. I'd like to figure out a way to come in to work later than normal a couple days a week and use that time to write. Either way, after 3 1/2 years of shelving my writing, it feels damn good to get back to it.

The Girls Get Their Own Rooms

2011-07-18T07:40:00.000-07:00

Kelly has worked hard to clean out what has been up to now an extra bedroom. And when I say she worked hard I'm not exaggerating. We're talking about twelve years of accumulation. Last week she presented Emily with this freshly cleaned up room as her own.

We don't have a regular bed in there yet but the toddler beds are in there and they'll suffice for now. Both girls were super excited about having their own rooms. Then when it was time for lights out, Emily didn't last long before asking Allison if she could come back in with her. Allison happily accommodated Emily's request, and they have been spending the nights together as usual.

It's all part of the socialization process. Last week I took Allison to Safeway while Kelly took Emily to T J Maxx. They typically get very little one-on-one time with us so we're trying to change that. And what a difference when you only have one of them with you. Allison was a lamb; holding my hand as we walked across the parking lot rather than trying to be first in. I put her in the grocery cart and she held the shopping list for me, smiling and happily chatting away as we went through the store. On the way home she was already talking about doing it again. Kelly had a similar experience with Emily.

In this clip Kelly checks in on the girls as they hang out in Emily's new room.

PSE Company Picnic

2011-07-18T07:21:00.000-07:00

The annual PSE company picnic was on Saturday at Lake Tapps. The weather was crapola early on, making me doubt that we'd go. Kelly said why not, it's an outing. The weather eventually made a turn for the better, and Allison and Emily had a great time.

The first time we ever came to the picnic the girls were only a year and a half old. They were walking but they were too little to get in on the fun stuff for kids and spent the vast majority of the time in the stroller.  Now that they are 3 1/2, we left the stroller at home;  the girls walked through the park gates under their own power, and spent the afternoon playing.

The main attraction at the picnic is the bucket rides on the utility trucks parked by the lake. Up you go, swinging out over the lake, dipping down to the water, then back up and around. I was hoping the girls would be game for a ride but once I got there and saw the trucks I realized they're still too small, and wouldn't be able to see over the side of the bucket. They didn't seem interested anyway, covering their ears from the noise as they walked by.

We started at the barbecue; grabbing burgers and chips. The girls were still tenative at this point, and opted for only the chips and a few hits from my can of Sprite. We sat on a log on the edge of the playground, eating and taking in our surroundings. After, it was time to go down the slide about a hundred times before grabbing an ice cream cone.

PSE is roughly 3,000 employees strong; and the turnout at the picnic probably brought several hundred, so there were quite a few people I didn't know, but I was running in to a fair amount of familiar faces. In fact my boss; the Treasurer, was playing the drums with his band that had set up on the main walkway.

Allison and Emily went in to full play mode when we hit the kids area. There was a huge inflatable maze filled with tubes, slides, and a climbing wall.  It's more for kids a little older than mine, and they quite honestly surprised Kelly and me by getting up the climbing wall and shooting down the tall, steep slide on the other side. They did this several times, moving on only after the generator ran out of gas and the attendant couldn't refuel in time to stop the whole thing from deflating.

They took a break to dangle their feet in the lake. I think they would have gone in completely if we let them have their way. Allison splashed the water vigorously with her feet, drenching herself.

We went across the way to another inflatable toy, this one a bouncy house. Basically, it's a large enclosed area that kids can bounce around in. And my girls love to bounce. To get out, they had to climb up to a slide. Allison in particular took to that one. Even when Emily gave up and wanted me to hold her, Allison kept going in, bouncing over to the exit, and sliding.

The sun was beating down pretty good at that point. We wandered over and got sno cones. I thought they'd give up after a few minutes but they hung in there and finished them off. We got on our way to leave, stopping for another ice cream cone.   We wrapped up our visit back to where we started; the playground, to spend some time on the swings.

Besides all the fun they were having, the thing I liked the most was the socialization aspect. There were a lot of kids around; the girls had to wait in line to go through the big inflatable toys, and they had to take instructions on when they could go in from the attendants.

The girls warmed up to the proceedings with about a hundred trips down this slide.

After the slide it was time for ice cream.

Entering the maze.

Emily gets ready to shoot down this steep slide.

Allison heads up the climbing wall.

The descent off the climbing wall.

If they had their way they would have been all the way in the lake.

Sno cones to help cool down after a lot of running, bouncing, and sliding.

More exploring.

Zonked for the ride home.

Fame At The Forum

2011-07-15T08:05:00.000-07:00

I served as Toastmaster of the weekly club meeting on Wednesday. The theme of the meeting was "Fame," and it was held in one of the larger conference rooms; known as, The Forum. Thus I dubbed the meeting "Fame At The Forum." I futzed around quite a bit to come up with the stylish agenda you see here. Please hold your applause at my cleverness. I wanted to kick it up a notch without straying too far from a meeting agenda and in to something that looked more like a program. This was not supposed to be a show, after all. Originally there were three featured speakers signed up. On the morning of the meeting one of the speech evaluators dropped out. I figured, oh well, this is the way it goes in TM. I was prepared to take over that evaluation. Lo and behold, an email popped up from the speaker he was supposed to evaluate. She said in her email that she wasn't quite ready and so wanted to reschedule. It was one of the few times I was happy to see a speaker postpone. Plus having three speakers causes a time crunch; we only have an hour, so that was another reason dropping down to two was okay by me.

I came at the topic of fame via breaking down my speech "The Journey" in to small segments between speakers; talking about Heller, Hemingway, and Pirsig. I figured there were enough new faces that hadn't heard that spiel, and it provided me some comfort in delivering familiar material since I'd been away from the club for so long.

Attendance was pretty good; probably a dozen or so. The highlight of the meeting was Table Topics. The usual routine of having a volunteer respond to a question was replaced with "PowerPoint Karaoke." This was the idea of Tom, who is a Distinguished Toastmaster (the highest accomplishment you can earn); he has done it before, but it was the first time I'd seen it in action. It was awesome. "I provide the slides, you provide the presentation," he explained. The slides were random, unrelated shots of animals, charts, and funny photos which the participant had to just roll with and weave in to a presentation. Sound easy? It's not, though I'd love to take a shot at it. What you need is a creative mind and a sense of humor, which our three volunteers all displayed. I was roaring with laughter, as was the rest of the audience.

There's been a lot of new members since I last spent any time with club. The new folks are bringing a new life and newfound sense of fun to the proceedings. The last three weeks that I've been at the meetings have have made me want to participate. It does me good to take part. I sure am rusty right now, though.

Sunday: Work Hard, Play Hard

2011-07-13T08:04:00.000-07:00

If I was toast by the end of Saturday, I was burnt toast by the end of Sunday. It was the good fatigue but I'm telling ya, I was feeling my age. In fact, as I was chasing the girls around the park in Carnation I started thinking that I really should improve my nutrition so I have more energy.

The day started with Kelly and me continuing to work on curb appeal. Our front yard has been neglected for some time. I'm talking years. Sure we've made a few feeble attempts at planting and weeding, usually an early spring thing followed by a summer of who cares.

On this particular Sunday morning I set up my 24' extension ladder, using about 20' of it, and lopped off; with a bow saw mind you, some dead and invasive branches on a couple of trees. As usual I had to stand one rung higher than my comfort level, reach one foot longer than was convenient, and most of the time I had to saw with my left hand. Up and down and up and down the ladder I went. When I came off for the last time my shirt was soaked in sweat, my legs were heavy, and my knees hurt. Falling branches almost knocked me off twice. Then I had to drag the debri around back where I ditched it in the blackberries past my fence line. The only consolation was the beer I drank in solitude on the patio afterward.

Kelly bless her heart handed me a beer to take in the shower. I came out totally relaxed. We loaded up our picnic gear and headed back out to Carnation. But before we went, I made more of my compound butter which I slathered on a loaf of French bread. Kathy was making spaghetti. My kind of camping.

I earned my dinner.  We brought the electric scooters for the girls. The park is scooter heaven; there's a paved loop that goes a good quarter mile around. On the second lap Allison abandoned her scooter and pulled her pants down. I yelled at Kelly who came running to get her in to the restroom. Emily was forging ahead, so I left Allison's scooter on the trail and went to catch up.

Well that maneuver went over none too good. Allison went back to the campsite and started wailing because I left her behind. I picked her up, apologized, and held for about ten minutes before she calmed down.

The rest of the gang was sitting at the picnic table gorging themselves on spaghetti. Allison sat on my lap, still bummed. A couple sips of lemon lime soda perked her up. She picked at the noodles on my plate with her bare hands. Then she started shoveling them in.  Kathy had taken my French bread, decoupled it, and laid it on her griddle.  What resulted was pure heaven; a nice thick brown buttery garlicky cheesy crust on the cut side.

After dinner the girls started back around the loop on their scooters. Half way they decided to hoof it..  They got so far ahead of me because I was lugging the scooters that I had to cut across the grass to shave down the angle on them.  Their second lap made Emily tired so I carried her about half the way. The third time around Ryan was fading so he hitchhiked a ride in my arms.

I slumped against the picnic table while everyone else made smores. Kathy, sensing my exhaustion, offered Eric's services in making me a to go cup for the ride home. I declined. Kelly drove. I tired to sleep but there was too much commotion from the peanut gallery.

I did indulge in a beer after the girls went to bed.   We were watching Stage 9 of the Tour de France.  We should be setting the DVR. Le Tour always draws us in. Next thing we knew it was midnight.

I bet the girls will always remember cruising around the park on their scooters. It looked fun to me at my advanced age.

Do I look exhausted? A morning of manual labor followed by chasing the girls around Carnation all afternoon wiped me. Allison meanwhile recovered from being upset and started shovelling in the spaghetti.

Kelly brought jumbo marshmallows which led to giant smores.

Saturday In Carnation

2011-07-12T07:27:00.000-07:00

One of our few summertime traditions is crashing the Drever's campsite when they head out to Carnation. Tent living is not for me. When I go on vacation I want amenities. Not that camping in Carnation is roughing it. There's a shopping center a block away. Plus the Drever's always reserve what we have pegged as the optimal spot. It features shade along with convenient access to restroom facilities and the river. No they are not one and the same.

We used to go out to Carnation every weekend back when we lived in the condo. In fact every time I open a bottle of Chateau St. Michele Cabernet, I can smell the grass and the big tree we used to picnic under on the riverbank. Alas, the park folks have since blocked access to that part of the park.

Temps were riding in the 70's.  We arrived in the mid-afternoon and set up our folding chairs. Food of course is the main component of camping. All bets are off.  In past camping expeditions I've spotted boxes of Krispe Kreme donuts and Domino's pizzas on the Drever's picnic table. And so on Saturday we got in to the spirit of things and stopped at Costco on the way out for smoothies and a pizza. Kelly packed some cheese and coldcuts too, along with sodas. She asked if I wanted to bring beer but I knew better.

I knew better because we brought the girls bicycles; the ones I paid $15 for the pair at a garage sale last summer. They're too big for the girls even though they can reach the pedals, and they have seen better days but they have training wheels and they are functional. More important, one bike is pink and the other is purple.

Talk about a workout. It was the first time the girls rode them for real. I jogged alongside, a hand on the handlebars. Allison really got in to it, wanting me to let go once she found the training wheels would keep her upright. Emily wasn't no sure, and opted for Ryan's much smaller bike, which offers a greater sense of being in control.

I sat down for a grand total of about ten minutes during the three or so hours we were out there. After the bike riding I chased the girls around on the big grassy area; then I shagged baseballs for Eric as he pitched to Aaron.

When that was over the Drever's were getting ready to chow down on burgers and hot dogs. They asked if we wanted to join in the feast. Kelly and I figured the girls wouldn't partake so we opted to get on the road while everyone was still happy.   We loaded up the truck, and as we got ready to pull out both girls said that they wanted a burger. Always throwing us curveballs I tellya.

We stopped at the McDonald's in Factoria on the way home. Emily was sleeping so we opted for the drive-thru, but as I got in the lane Allison lobbied to go inside. Emily woke up and wanted to go inside too. It was too late to get out of line so we ordered, picked it up at the window, parked, and took it in.

It was straight in to the tub for the girls when we got home. Kelly granted them a special treat and let them watch Mickey Mouse when when they were done with their bath. It was past their bedtime but hey it was Saturday night. There was a minor fuss getting them upstairs but it passed without escalating.

I was toast.  Flopped and watched Stage 8 of the Tour de France. There was a half bottle left of J Lhor Cabernet. I sipped away on that while Kelly had a beer.

Costco pizza and a fruit smoothie. Don't leave home without them.

Emily decided Winne The Pooh needed a nap.

If Aaron had his way, there would have been a raging fire going in the pit. Eric had to keep a close eye on him.

After the girls took their bikes for a spin, they switched to taking turns on Ryan's scooter.

All that riding worked up a thirst.

Getting ready to grill some burgers.

Eric built a double cheese. I was stuffed on pizza. Yeah baby.

As far as camping accommodations go, the Drever tent is probably DaBomb. Still, it felt good to leave them to it and go home to my big screen TV and my bed.

The girls jumped around on the mattresses. We found out the next day somebody popped a hole in one of them. Oops.

We hit up the McDonald's in Factoria. Allison drained an entire choco shake too.

TM: Back On The Horse For A Short Ride

2011-07-08T15:27:00.000-07:00

Last week I made my first appearance at Toastmasters in 2011. There were three speeches, which canceled Table Topics due to time constraints. All the roles were filled. No chance for me to participate. Perfect. That's pretty much what tipped me toward going.

Things have changed in my absence. For one, the club meets in a new room. It's a definite upgrade. Spacious, comfy, and state of the art. A new club president is in, new members are on board, and the once sparse speaking schedule is packed in to August.

As always upon my return to the club from a lengthy hiatus, there were elements of TM that I realized I miss. I really do enjoy listening to the speeches. I like the camaraderie. I like seeing what new members bring to the club.

I even made a return visit this week. And this time I signed up to evaluate a speech. Alas, the speaker I was to evaluate didn't show up. Some things about TM never change....I did take part in Table Topics; the impromptu speaking part of the meeting. Over the years I've learned to cheat a bit. Table Topic questions usually relate to the theme of that particular meeting. This week the theme was "Radio."  Consequently, before the meeting I thought about the topic and formed a basic outline of what I would say if called upon. And I was called upon. If by the way, for some reason the question didn't relate to the theme, thus leaving me in a lurch, I have two options: wing it, or figure out a segueway to come back to what I want to say. Tricks of the trade.

Next week I'm the Toastmaster. Somebody asked me to do it. I took a few days to mull it over before signing up. Hey why not? Got to keep my hand in the game.

What would a return to the club be without giving a speech?  I'm usually good for 2-3 speeches a year. August 24th will see me deliver my first TM speech since last September. Subject? I'm going to talk about attending my 30 year high school reunion and why we should keep moving forward in life. Or something like that.

The Humorous Speech contest will probably be in September. Will I be in? Or will I be back on hiatus? Can't say for sure. I have a feeling that although I'm back on the horse, it's going to be a short ride.

Monday: Fourth of July Party

2011-07-07T14:12:00.000-07:00

The last few years we've been alternating between going to our friends Matt and Jeanna's, and Don and Carol's on the fourth of July. Both throw great parties. This year it was Don and Carol.

They offer two completely different experiences. Matt and Jeanna live in the woods of Redmond. There are a lot of kids around. Beer is the preferred libation. Fireworks; the kind bought off the Indian Reservations, are in such abundance I've never stuck around long enough to watch the whole show. Don and Carol meanwhile live in a sub-division on the Issaquah Plateau. The average age is pushing 60. The vibe is uber-relaxed. There's no fireworks but a lot of wine.

We brought our fresh fruit trifle; sauerkraut and kielbasa, and our powerful Gorgonzola/garlic dip to the 4:00 PM affair. Don had both his smoker and his grill going. Pork shoulders in the smoker, burgers on the grill. Those were some lovely smells. At the end he pulled the pork. The burgers were made from a special mix he gets from a local meat market. I forget the particulars other than bacon was added. As if pulled pork and gourmet burgers weren't enough, Carol made lasagna. There were too many side dishes to mention. They could have easily fed twice as many people as were on hand. Deserts were fruit based and abundant. Don and Carol are wine aficionados too, so whatever they serve, it's always good. On this day I was drinking a Grenache.

They made a special effort to accommodate Allison and Emily. Beach chairs and a giant rubber ball were set out on the lawn for them. The girls were shy as expected upon arrival but soon kicked off their sandals and got to playing. Don and his buddies have been hanging together for years and years. All of them are the type that like to play hard, which makes for good stories to retell when sitting around drinking. I sat and mostly listened; enjoying the sun, the food, the wine, and the laughter.

We were home before dark. I had overeaten. By a longshot. Kelly closed the deal on the bedtime routine with the girls while I flopped on the couch. We watched the fireworks from Gas Works Park, on TV. And just like that our festive three day weekend came to a close.

The girls loosen up and start to play.

Don and Carol's backyard was professionally landscaped once upon a time. They've worked hard to keep it looking good. It added to the ambiance. That's what I'm looking for in my own back yard. Kelly is standing on the deck, in front of a smoker. There was also a gas grill going.

At one point Allison jumped on the ball and rolled off in to the little green wire fence surrounding the planting area. No damage done to kid or fence. They spent most of their time goofing around back there.

We brought the trifle. That's a fruit flan and a pineapple upside down cake along with it. I sampled-er, gorged on, them all.

Sunday: Crank

2011-07-07T07:44:00.000-07:00

Allison woke up cranky on Sunday. Cranky cranky, cranky. I dunno, Emily may have bumped her accidentally in bed. Tsk tsk. House Rules 1-1000: DON'T WAKE UP ALLISON. Meanwhile, the morning sun was shining brightly, the birds were singing, a butterfly was flitting around the driveway. I was determined to get the girls outside in hopes it would improve our mood.

There was a hodgepodge of activities. They grabbed their buckets of chalk and sketched out ants, fish, and puppies on the driveway. They rode their scooters. They played in the Jeep. We ate lunch on the front steps. The snake that lives under our porch made an appearance, raising his head up from the top of the rockery to peek over before slithering across the welcome mat.

The fresh air and playtime did Allison good, but she was still being a pill. The least little thing would set her off. Emily meanwhile, was her usual chipper self. I swear you'd never know they were twins.

The latest thing is, whatever one of the girls is doing the other one starts in with, "I want a turn." A doll or a toy could be sitting abandoned in a corner somewhere; one of the girls will happen by, idly pick it up, and the other girl will go charging over. "I want a turn." Truth is she could really care less, as could the one with the toy who will now in no way relinquish it just to spite the other one. Game on. The one without will look at us, make a whiny face, and complain, "She's not sharing." This goes on about 100 times a day.

Back to the driveway: We collected ourselves and rode in the Jeep up to the German store in Lake Hills only to discover the joint was closed. From there we stopped by Albertson's, in Eastgate, in search of Bird's Custard Powder. Struck out again. We hit Kelly's parent's house on the way home. The girls played around on the homemade swing, the playhouse, and the ladders on the wine deck.

Kelly suggested hitting Torerro's on the way home. I suggested The Mustard Seed. Emily chipped in that she didn't want to go to The Mustard Seed; nope, she wanted to go to Torerros'. Allison told us all she didn't want to go to Torrero's; nope, she wanted to go to The Mustard Seed. See how it goes? Game on. Ultimately, I was driving. The Mustard Seed won out.

We spent the evening on the patio. I used up most of the wood I got from John plus my own inventory. After the girls went to bed Kelly and I stayed out there for a long time listening to music and watching the fire.

It was a day turned in to a grind by Allison's sour disposition that improved as time progressed but was never far from a meltdown. And it was a day of small accomplishments; working on our house's curb appeal and prepping food to take to Don and Carol's for the Fourth of July party they invited us to.

A double-decker lunch: pizza on top, wings on the bottom. Neither was anything to write home about. Lesson learned: stick to the sandwiches and burgers at The Mustard Seed. The girls shared chicken strips.

It was a lazy Sunday afternoon. The Mustard Seed sits in the Newport Hills Shopping Center, which is not doing great. There was a Hallmark store there for years that closed down awhile back. So did the grocery store. On a hot sunny Sunday in summer, it's like a ghost village. Emily is down by the empty space where Hallmark used to be while Allison zips across the front of The Mustard Seed toward the empty storefront Red Apple used to occupy.

Saturday: Party On The Patio Redux

2011-07-06T08:01:00.000-07:00

Sunshine flourished in the Pacific Northwest over the weekend. Kathy cleaned out her freezer and found a salmon. Kelly still had an abundance of meat. I had a hankering to make a compound butter with garlic and Parmesan. It all added up to another Saturday party on the patio.

I was bitching about wet firewood on Friday night. John offered me a helping off his decade old stack. I took him up on his offer and went over to his house in the afternoon to bring some back. Kirsten was out with a friend and John was looking for a lunch companion. We headed a short way down the road from his house to a burger joint called Carl's Jr.

By the time I returned home it was mid-afternoon. Kelly; figuring lead time for starting a fire with wet wood, was itching for me to get the process started. No worries. John's stash lit up like matchsticks.

I'm aware of all the different woods favored by master grillers; be it hickory, apple, or whatever, and cooking methods of direct vs. indirect heat, and considerations of whether to cover or not to cover your grill during cooking. Blah blah. Until I buy a gas grill, I like my campfire method. Logs burnt down to hot embers. Throw a pan of meat on. Cook until you decide it's done.

The clan Drever showed up around 4:30. Eric had cooked the salmon at home. I sliced a loaf of Artisan bread in half, slathered both halves with my compound butter, wrapped it in foil, and put it on my fire along with the Tri Tip.

I wasn't in the mood to booze it up much. After splitting a bottle of wine with Eric and Kelly I switched to water until the Zable's showed up. John brought some stuff, including a pink bubbly; I think he had Kirsten in mind. I didn't have any of that particular bottle. I let the others get their fill, and got in on a glass of each of the other two wines he brought.

The Zable's showed up with their three year old nephew, Caleb. He was quickly assimilated in to the mix. The kids pretty much entertained themselves between remote controlled cars, our little roller coaster, buckets and shovels, beach balls, etc. As the sun went down we all got in to the smores. Again.

Back to basics: fire and meat.

Kelly and Kathy survey their subjects.

After they got bored riding the car, the boys started sending all kinds of things down the track.

Post-meal gabbing.

As the evening wore on, Emily changed in to her jammies and had a bowl of "Grandpa's Noodles." A special Italian pasta that he drenches in olive oil and garlic salt. When the girls have sleepovers, Grandpa serves them this concotion in bed.

Eric takes his marshmallow roasting seriously.

Friday: Let The Festivities Begin

2011-07-05T07:42:00.000-07:00

I was in a celebratory mood on Friday. It was the Friday before the Fourth of July holiday; summer sunshine had arrived; and I kept my employer cash positive. Or rather, I didn't screw up our cash positions on Thursday.

Isn't that what I normally do? Why the celebration? Is liquidity an issue? Breaking news here?

Nah, no breaking news. Thing is, if there's one day you don't want to screw up and be overdrawn, it's the last day of a fiscal quarter. That's because financial statements are published as of that day. Those statements are heavily scrutinized by management, auditors, banks, investors, credit rating agencies, industry analysts and other interested parties.  Added to the pressure was the fact our Senior Treasury Analyst was out of town, leaving me to make the judgement calls in setting our cash positions. Added to that was we didn't want a lot of excess cash on the books, so we were running lean. So even though I had access to cash, I didn't want to call it up. On top of all this, cash receipts are typically erratic at the end of the week plus it was the end of the month plus it was a holiday weekend, all adding to the uncertainty.

I ratcheted down my forecasts, ran multiple scenarios through my models, wringing my hands, wavering between paranoia and trusting my data. I decided to ride it out. The Assistant Treasurer emailed me for assurance that the numbers were looking as expected. I wished we had more wiggle room but I assured him we'd end up fine. Look, I don't get paid to say, "I don't know."   I told him where I expected the numbers to be at the end of the day. Then I strolled through the lobby thinking about how much I would miss the place if I were to get fired for being overdrawn on the last day of the quarter.

Paranoia haunted me throughout the evening. I brought my laptop home and logged in to our banking system, wanting to get an early read on results. What a disaster to lose my paycheck, my benefits, the security of my cubicle. I didn't tell Kelly I was freaking out inside. I knew in my heart that it was going to turn out fine. At 11:00 PM the numbers still weren't available, so I was up at 4:30 in the morning logging back in from my coffee table. The actual number my career depended on was solidly cash positive. In fact, we finished $20K over my projection.

Outside my window, the sun dawned over Somerset. I wanted to go for a walk but I still had to make sure we were cash positive for Friday. You got to pick your spots for coming in late or leaving early and this wasn't one of them. I had some catching up to do anyway. The Senior Analyst called me from central Washington to see how we came out on the cash. The office was quiet and seemed to empty out by the minute after lunch. At the end of the day; 4:30, which is late by my standards, I was standing in the aisle of my cubicle chatting with the Assistant Treasurer and the business analyst who sits across from me. We seemed to be the last three people on the floor. I didn't care. I was happy to be employed.

I went slightly native after work. Kelly had cuts of Tri Tip ready for my patio campfire.   John and Kirsten came over.   We had a salad starter. Dinner was meat. No sides. I didn't even bother with trivialities like eating utensils or napkins; intstead using a sweaty forearm to wipe steak juices dribbling off my chin. We washed down our meal with wine followed by roasted marshmallows for desert.

Allison and Emily stayed up with us. Most of the way. They finally fell asleep on the couch in the living room around 10:00 PM. We carried them upstairs and put them to bed. No protest, no whimpering, they were zonked. After the Zable's went home I poured a scotch and sat on the deck. It was the end of a satisfying week and the beginning of a festive weekend.

Tribute to Clarence Clemons

2011-06-29T15:30:00.000-07:00

DO I HAVE TO SAY HIS NAME...? from James Roddy on Vimeo.

I'll Sleep When I'm Dead

2011-06-29T08:44:00.000-07:00

So much for my grand plans. I was tired yesterday. So tired, I thought instead of staying up late in front of the TV, I'll suggest an early retirement. Kelly beat me to the punch. And still it didn't work out.

We did have the girls outside all evening. That's at least one thing we've been trying to do more of. Kelly gave the tree in the corner of our driveway a serious haircut. Allison and Emily helped gather the branches. They rode their scooters. The played in the bed of John's truck. They helped me roll the garbage cans out to the curb. We were outside until 7:00.

Even though the girls were feeling chipper, chatty, and behaving as well as I could have expected, they were hard to supervise. They just never stop moving. And whatever it is you fear the most in terms of how they could get hurt, that's the activity they want to pursue. Exhibit A: Our rule is, scooters stay in the driveway. The girls: their favorite thing to do is drive up the hill as far as they can get away with, then roll backwards in to the driveway. For one thing, we live in a cul-de-sac with teenagers who come busting down the hill too fast. For another, there's a significant bump up from the street to my driveway; enough to jar a three year old off their scooter.  In fact, Allison tried to 4-wheel across a pile of branches and went ass over teakettle; her scooter flipped so her handlebars were on the ground.

Exhibit B: You'd think putting them in the bed of John's truck is savvy-I mean, it's contained, right? Ha. Sitting on the wheel wells is not as fun as standing precariously on them and jumping off. And that big 'ol toolbox sure would be fun to stand on too. Then there's that rope back there that John has knotted to a tiedown ring when he needs to secure a load.  The girls love to take the free end of the rope and string it across to an opposing ring. They then trip and clothesline themselves on it as they hop around.

We came inside and Kelly gave the girls a bath followed by a snack of breadsticks and olives.  It was lights out at 9:00 PM. I bagged the idea of a walk. Should have gone to bed; Kelly was wiped too, but we stayed up until 10:00. I managed to read about three pages of my library book, Absurdistan, before sleep won out.

At 11:00 Allison's crying summoned us to the girl's room. I found her draped over the top of Emily. I rolled her off then went around to Emily's side to get her situated. While I was over there, Allison kept rolling. Right off the bed. That set off a good hour of discontent.  She wanted me to hold her, hold her higher. Gesturing emphatically, she directed me to the kitchen, to the living room, back to the kitchen. Around and around all the while wailing for milk, more milk, Piglet, and her blankey.

Emily normally sleeps through these episodes but this one was extra intense. Kelly crouched at her side comforting her while I dealt with Allison. Finally, a couple sips of lemon-lime soda placated her. She settled down, head on my shoulder, arms slung around my neck. I paced the living room with her just like the old days when they were first born and struggled with reflux.  At midnight we finally had everyone settled back down.

Except me.  My system was in emergent care mode. Tired yet fully awake. I poured two fingers of scotch and crashed on the couch in the family room. Kelly came down and we chatted until half past midnight. We talked about my lifelong lack of sleep. Even when I really want to sleep, it eludes me. More on that next time. Kelly calls it "The Farrell Curse." I say; like the song says, I'll sleep when I'm dead.

Monday Reset

2011-06-28T10:49:00.000-07:00

So much for my grand plans on Monday. The focus of my energy is shifting from the back yard to the front. Not so much for curb appeal. No, I'm not reaching that high. Rather, I just don't want to be ashamed of my yard. The plan was to come home from work, get the kids to the park, then start cleaning up out front. Tired kids and rain derailed us. I've said it a million times: parenting is a fluid situation. Sometimes your plans just all wash away.

Monday wasn't a washout though. After my chicken fried steak pigout on Sunday morning, I had reined in my food intake the rest of the day and didn't take any booze on board either. In the evening I got out for a walk followed by a good night of sleep. I felt great on Monday. Refreshed and reset. I'm determined to wear those two girls of mine out everyday. I get worn out in the process; that's a given, but I'm trying to perserve enough energy for post-work playtime with them.

While we didn't do any yardwork, I did throw the remaining scrap lumber from my old deck in to the back of John's truck and offloaded it at Paul's. He's been trying to convince me that I'll need that wood for some project to be named later. But I want it gone, want my yard cleaned up. Now that Paul's out of the country I seized the opportunity to sneak the lumber under his deck. He can use it to build Aaron the fort he's been promising.

We took Allison and Emily with us to make the drop. They had been running with the Drever boys earlier in the day then played at McDonald's for awhile. In fact I beat them home by only a couple minutes. I opened the door from the basement in to the garage as Kelly pulled the Suburban in. Within ten seconds Allison was crying, claiming Emily smacked her on the head. She didn't. I picked up the tiredly fussy Allison and carried her in to the living room where she sat snuggled up against me for a good while. Emily wanted to watch The Backyardigans. Allison eventually went downstairs to watch TV too. Kelly made a pot of spaghetti. I went to check on the girls once while Kelly made dinner. Both of them were stretched out on the couch and near sleep. Still, they wanted to go for a ride and it was only 6:00 PM. They ran around Paul and Ellen's, burning off enough energy for a fairly easy go of it through the bedtime routine.

The girls in fact went to bed at 8:30. Not bad. I went for a two mile walk. Came home, we watched an episode of Good Neighbors (circa 1976--we love those old British sitcoms), had a beer, and called it a night.

Chicken Fried Sunday

2011-06-28T07:55:00.000-07:00

While we didn't have anything definite lined up for Sunday, Kelly mentioned visiting the Woodland Park Zoo one last time before our passes expired. I added Red Mill Burgers to the itinerary; they're right down the road from the zoo and have been featured many times on food travel shows. Then I thought wouldn't it be fun to make the relatively short trip from Red Mill; on 67th & Phinney, down to Fisherman's Terminal, in search of photo ops with the Deadliest Catch fleet.

So much for my grand plans. The girls were low on energy after the late night party on the patio. We opted for chicken fried steak at The Mustard Seed. Putting away that plate you see in the accompanying picture was my biggest accomplishment of the day.

I had only one meal all day on Sunday. But it was a doozy. A late start put us at The Mustard Seed around 11:00. Allison and Emily split chicken strips and potato chips, while Kelly and me had the chicken fried steak and a pint of Alaskan Summer Ale. The CFS comes on a bed of hashbrowns along with two eggs (sunnyside up for us), and toast (we went with the sourdough).

After our meal we went back home. I cleaned up the water table so the girls could splash around in the sunshine. When they were done it was time for a choco ice cream cone under the patio umbrella.

No hard plastic chairs for the girls. They go straight for the soft cushy ones. It was a day in which we all pretty much just kicked back.

Party On The Patio

2011-06-27T13:41:00.000-07:00

The patio is open. Its inaugural summer get together took place on Saturday evening featuring flank steak and smores.

Last summer I cut down a dead tree in the front yard which I had piled in the back yard to eventually be used as firepit fuel. I never covered the logs and after the coldest spring on record, they were pretty wet. Getting a fire going was in doubt. After a lot of coaxing I heard the welcome sounds of crackling wood and the sizzling of wet logs. It was a smokey fire; I noticed my neighbor vacated his deck, but it was a fire, and anyway the smoke; while a nuisance, helped keep the bugs away.

I let it burn down to where I could set the grill rack on top of the glowing logs. Kelly brought out a flank steak on a pan and I set the whole pan on right on the grill. I liked this campfire method better than charcoal.

While we chowed down I restoked the fire for marshmallow roasting. John and Kirsten came over later; Kirsten I understand, dusting herself off after a migraine attack. We ate smores to our hearts content, drank a couple bottles of wine, told stories, and had a lot of laughs.

As night fell the sky cleared. The girls loved looking at the stars. Hey it was Saturday night; we didn't have any solid plans for Sunday, so what the hey, we let them stay up until 11:00. After everyone went home I poured a couple fingers of Glenfiddich and sat on the patio with Kelly while the fire burned itself out.

Eric and me chow down.

Kelly passes down to the girls her technique for roasting marshmallows.

Eric went down in to the greenbelt and foraged for sticks to roast marshmallows with. Aaron kept setting his marshies on fire.

This is what I'd been waiting so long for: the chance to entertain on my patio.

Exit Plan

2011-06-22T15:21:00.000-07:00

Kelly and I took mom to the doctor on Monday. The main reason for our visit was to sign paperwork that limits the amount of life saving measures she'll receive in case of a cardiac event or sickness. As expected, mom was fully on board with the strategy of not pursuing aggressive treatments and life saving measures; instead, she wants to be kept as comfortable as possible and allowed to go out in peace.

We were also there to try and get a handle on why she's lost 17 pounds recently. Her ankles were not nearly as swollen as I've seen them lately, so maybe it was related to that. She also had a spot on her lung discovered a few years ago but she opted not to have it biopsied. So they took a x-ray of her chest on Monday and did some blood work. Everything came back normal. So who knows about the weight loss? Could be as simple as she's losing interest in eating.

We talked as a group; mom, the doctor, Kelly and me, about mom's end of life care. It was refreshing to be able to talk openly and honestly--unlike our covert measures to move her from one apartment to another. Based on just knowing my mom plus the discussions we had back when her mind was fully functional, I knew she didn't want aggressive, invasive procedures performed on her. Still, it was a somber moment when I signed the paperwork with the instructions and watched the doctor sign it off.

Given that my mom was a heavy smoker for many years; that she had a minor stroke (and rather than go to the hospital, she got up off the lawn, changed clothes and boarded a plane for Arizona to keep a commitment), her physical health history is remarkably good. Longevity runs in the bloodlines too. And when time runs out, now there's an exit plan.

Summer's Here And I'm Offically Out of The Doldrums

2011-06-22T13:33:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was another in a long line of exercises in futility. But I didn't lose my cool, didn't drown in self-pity, didn't let my energy leak out and give way to the doldrums. I've learned from my mistakes. I've regrouped. I'm out of the doldrums.

Here's what I've learned about Allison and Emily: They need to get out of the house on a regular; daily even, basis. Outside to the yard, to the park, to the grocery store, to the frickin' anywhere. They don't care. My girls want to be on the go and when they're not on the go that's when we run in to trouble. So when I come home from work all tired and full of the doldrums and trying to take the easy way out of parenting, I'm just essentially begging for problems.

Here's what else I've learned about Allison and Emily: Expect the unexpected. You can make all the grandiose Super Nanny approved plans you want but that doesn't mean squat. What you really need to be able to do is go with the flow. Parenting it turns out, is a very fluid situation.

Take yesterday for example. First day of summer. Sunny. Temps pushing 80. Knowing full well that if I get the girls outside everybody wins, I came home from work ready to load them up in the Jeep and go. I even popped the sunroof off for extra fun. I'd take the whole canopy off but that's for another day. Allison and Emily were having a pretend tea party in the living room. Then they built a fort under an end table while I shagged their sunglasses, caps, and sweaters, and loaded it all in the Jeep.

In the ten minute drive to Lake Boren, Allison nodded off. The park was teeming with kids on the playground, people exercising their dogs, sun bathers, tennis players, etc. I sat in the Jeep with Allison for the thirty minutes Kelly took Emily out to play. Here it is, first day of summer; gorgeous, and I'm barely getting a sniff. I got cynical, went in to my woe-is-me routine for a few minutes on the drive home, but eventually let it roll off.