I am sitting here in the study with the windows shut listening to the sound of what can only be described as Spanish-Techno-Polka music. I’m not sure this is an actual genre but it sure would characterize the noise coming from our neighbor’s house — who incidentally also has their windows shut. On the other side we have very lovely neighbors and on our street in general we have a great crowd of families. The house that is currently channeling all power for our listening pleasure for the fourth time this week, however, is cursed. This is the third family that’s lived there and I long for the days when we thought the first owners were awful. Compared to the current occupants they were wonderful. Now if you’ll excuse me I need to go find a sombrero, snap some lederhosen on the kids and start dancing.
Saturday Tristan and I were home alone while the girls went out of town for the day. What did we do with our day as bachelors? I took him shopping for shoes and jeans of course. While we did have some luck in the shoe department, the jeans eluded me. I was taunted all day by numerous pairs of gorgeous size 33 Earnest Sewn Jakimo jeans in their luxurious Japanese denim. Try as I might I could not squeeze my (slightly larger than) size 34 butt into them and I am in no way willing to pay full price for them. Ah the joys of outlet shopping.
I am not generally a person who is plagued by neuroses, but having only recently developed a fashion sense (obsession) I am some what insecure in this area. Ever since I read the many posts where Dooce rants and raves about belts matching shoes I would worry every time I put on a brown belt with brown shoes. I didn’t want to be one of those belt matches shoes guys. This weekend as I was looking for a new eurotrash belt I had an epiphany. The guy on the other side of the rack opened his shoe box and began looking for the perfect match, with a subtle shiny brass buckle. It was then I realized what she meant, and I will never worry again. I don’t own a pair of boat shoes, I don’t have a single Polo brand polo shirt and nobody ever calls me Chaz.
Sunday brought more solo parenting and the realization that I would go nuts having to chase Tristan around for more than half an hour a day. With only 20 minutes of overlapping naps I barely had time to go to the bathroom. I have no idea how Jen does it. Sunday night Katie asked for burritos, so she and I spent some time in the kitchen cooking chicken and beans only to find after everything was ready that the tortillas were moldy. Having always heard how easy flour tortillas are to make and having had many TOD obsessions with baking I figure I would give it a shot. We didn’t have any shortening so i found a recipe that called for vegetable oil. — it is interesting how different cultures can take the same recipe and make very different things, this one could have easily been made into noodles if I cut it thin and boiled it. — Even though the tortillas came out tasting more like flat bread, Katie loved them. If you plan to try it yourself definitely use a recipe that calls for shortening and more than 5 minutes of resting.
Monday night Katie got to experience her first real (non documentary) movie as we watched Cars. I think we no longer have any hope of avoiding the black hole that is Disney.
One last funny story to reward you for reading my ramblings and punish Katie in front of her future fiance. Sunday morning she walked up to Jen holding a carabiner and asked what is that thing called that you put on your nipples.
For the most part we have two groups of friends from college — her friends and his friends — which is sort of strange because we spent almost all of college as a couple and came to know almost all of said friends together. I guess what I really should have said is that we have sorority friends and fraternity friends. Yup, Mama and Papa were both greek in college. Anyway, in the last year there has been an exodus of sorts as almost all of our fraternity friends have moved away. First, one couple — who can actually be called fraternity AND sorority friends since they boast one member of each — moved hours away. Then another moved all the way to the other coast. And now, Ed is moving to the western desert. And boy are we sad.
While the urchins were at home melting this week, I was fortunate enough to escape to San Diego. I have spent a lot of time in California — I know Silicon Valley almost as well as I know my own hometown — but I have never had any desire to live there. Maybe it’s all the fruits and nuts, but I really couldn’t live in the bay area and LA drives me crazy. I have always said that if I had to live in CA I would live in San Diego. — I want to live in San Diego. — Maybe it’s the fact that my hotel was a block from Solana Beach that pushed me over the edge, but I started looking at the job listings. Knowing I could never convince Jen to move, I decided not to look too hard because there were definitely jobs I could get excited about.
I mean really hot. Yesterday I took Katie and my niece, Gabrielle, down to look at the creek near my parent’s house. It is a super easy, short walk. When we came back my mom thought I had doused them with water because their little heads were so wet. No, it’s just sticky, sweaty, humid summertime. Read more
I used to have a job with a travel schedule a single man would love. I almost always went to very nice places most of which were international. It was fun to be able to do my christmas shopping in Switzerland, Germany, Japan and France all in the same year. Unfortunately, it was a very hard travel schedule to keep with a family. One day Katie was asked who lives at the airport? with the expected answer being airplanes, but Katie answered Daddy. That was the day I knew I needed to do something to reduce my travel. Now I have a nice new job with a family-friendly travel schedule, but I have to say — I miss Paris. The last project I worked on before switching jobs was in Paris so I traveled there frequently. One of my more conveniently timed trips put me in Paris for the final stage of Le Tour de France last year. The following is the e-mail and pictures I sent from Paris last year.
If you know me you know I have the short term memory of a goldfish. I would give you some funny examples, but there are none from the last 5 minutes and I forget the rest. Seriously though, this is a pretty annoying issue. Jen knows that she has to send me to the store with a list, even if she only needs me to get one item. If she is not sending me from home, she sends a text message to my mobile phone. The other day she sent me to get baby food, the instructions were simple: “Something high in fiber but no green vegetables.” So I return home with peas because they were the highest in fiber.