Ann made mashed potatoes a couple nights ago, mostly for the two of us but also because they're one of the few "adult" foods that Molly can eat too. Ann's mashed potatoes happen to be really, really good, with garlic and butter mixed into the recipe and... mmmm. Good stuff. Anyway, last night she put a small amount of it in one of Molly's baby bowls and tried feeding it to her. The munchkin ate some of it, but she's being a bit finicky about foods lately (we think she's teething), so after she'd turned her nose up at the rest of it, Ann started feeding her finger foods instead. At that point, I took the bowl off the high chair tray, brought it into the kitchen, and -- this is not my finest moment -- stood there eating mashed potatoes out of a baby bowl. Yes, I used an adult fork, but still- baby bowl. My daughter's leftovers.
Hey, don't judge me until you've tried Ann's mashed potatoes.
Thursday, June 11, 2009
Saturday, June 6, 2009
Will blog for food
Apologies for the lack of updates, everyone. I know I promised that once finals were over I'd be posting more often, but first Ann and I took a week's vacation -- went to Beantown for a wedding, where Molly made a great impression, and the rest of the time I was just busy relaxing -- and then when we got back, we learned on our last day of vacation that my position had been eliminated. Yep, I am currently not a contributing member of the workforce. Now, never fear... something will turn up, and if all else fails I've still got my sugar mama working to keep me in the lifestyle to which I'm accustomed. But for the last week my priority has been hitting the job search hard, and that probably won't change until I actually secure one. (So if you hear about anyone willing to pay big bucks for someone to blog about Spider-Man... I'm just sayin'.) Don't worry, though- once I'm back on my feet, regular updates will resume. I know I've said that before, but baby, I can change.
One humorous addendum to an otherwise fairly crappy situation: tonight Ann was folding our laundry and asked without thinking, "Where are all your work pants?" I think I just gawked at her speechless for a few seconds until she realized what she'd said, at which point she blanched and couldn't apologize fast enough. She didn't mean anything by it, obviously, and it's funny in retrospect, but man, it's a good thing I'm not thin skinned.
Oh, and a message to my daughter: sweetie, I love you. You make me happier than I've ever been, and I'm immensely flattered that for the last two weeks you haven't stopped saying "Da da da da da da da." That's why I'm telling you this now, for your own good... learn "Ma ma ma ma ma ma." The woman grew your cells, gave up alcohol for you, and carted you around for nine months, and then an extra week on top of that because you weren't in any rush to come out. If you don't give her her due props soon in the form of learning the "M" consonant, I can't be responsible for what she might do. Let's just say they do make lima bean baby food, and leave it at that.
One humorous addendum to an otherwise fairly crappy situation: tonight Ann was folding our laundry and asked without thinking, "Where are all your work pants?" I think I just gawked at her speechless for a few seconds until she realized what she'd said, at which point she blanched and couldn't apologize fast enough. She didn't mean anything by it, obviously, and it's funny in retrospect, but man, it's a good thing I'm not thin skinned.
Oh, and a message to my daughter: sweetie, I love you. You make me happier than I've ever been, and I'm immensely flattered that for the last two weeks you haven't stopped saying "Da da da da da da da." That's why I'm telling you this now, for your own good... learn "Ma ma ma ma ma ma." The woman grew your cells, gave up alcohol for you, and carted you around for nine months, and then an extra week on top of that because you weren't in any rush to come out. If you don't give her her due props soon in the form of learning the "M" consonant, I can't be responsible for what she might do. Let's just say they do make lima bean baby food, and leave it at that.
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
The Worst Concert I Ever Attended
Ann and I don't get to concerts much anymore, what with the spawn and dear God the economy and just generally being old as dirt, but up until a couple of years ago we used to go to one every few months, often as birthday gifts to each other. For quite some time I'd been telling Ann that there were two bands I hadn't seen in concert that I'd really like to, Green Day and Counting Crows. (Shut it, you listened to August and Everything After just as much as the rest of us.) Anyway, one year Ann told me she'd gotten tickets for us to a Goo Goo Dolls/Counting Crows show. Man, I was stoked. I can take or leave the Dolls and I'm not a fan of CC's entire repetoire, but I really like their fast songs, "Einstein on a Beach" and "A Murder of One" and like that, and pretty much anything from August is money. Ergo, excitement.
So the day of the concert finally arrived and we settled into our seats, ready to rock like it's 1995. And I give them a lot of credit- like I said, I wasn't as excited for the Goo Goo Dolls, but they really put on a great show. Lots of energy, they genuinely seemed to want to be there and did a nice job of pumping up the audience, and they played a lot of their greatest hits. No complaints there. In fact, after they finished, I was even more excited for what was undoubtedly going to be a Counting Crows set that would blow my Generation Y mind.
And finally, finally the Crows walked out onto the stage. Adam Duritz picked up the microphone and promptly informed all us concertgoers that they were sorry for being late, but a very good friend of theirs died yesterday. Well. That sucks. I remember feeling sympathetic and wondering if they were going to cancel the show. No, in fact; what Adam went on to slur in a 110% stoned voice was that, in their friend's memory, they were going to have a night of beautiful, beautiful music, to honor him, man.
Well, damn. Now I know Counting Crows are kind of a hippie band; I know that songs like "December" and "Perfect Blue Buildings" could double as funeral dirges in some countries. I was kind of hoping we'd get more of the upbeat peppy songs than emo ones, or at least an even split, but okay, fine... I can deal with some of their slower songs. That could work.
Uh-uh. Nope. Believe me when I tell you that what followed was the most mournful, depressing, slit-your-wrists-at-the-snack-bar music you've ever heard in your life. If you can imagine the Smiths, stoned and in mourning for murdered kittens, you've just about got it. Every single song began low and got lower, and even the short ones were so long it felt like a Phish concert. How on earth do you turn "Mrs. Potter's Lullaby" into a requiem? Somehow they managed it. After about 30 minutes (read: four songs), Ann looked at me and hesitantly asked, "Uh, do you... do you want to stay? I mean, we can if you want to, I know you were looking forward to this..." I remember answering back, just as uncertainly, "Well, let's... let's give it another couple of songs, maybe they'll pick up energy as they go and play some faster stuff." You will not necessarily be shocked when I tell you that this spectacularly failed to happen. We walked out of there when their set couldn't have been more than half over, and I've never regretted that decision for an instant. I'm sure there was someone sitting in that stadium who really dug it, who couldn't get enough of that music to cut yourself by, but brother, he wasn't me.
So that's the story of the worst concert I ever attended. I've been to concerts where I've had beer spilled on me, I've been to concerts where I've seen people thrown out by security, I've been to a concert where I couldn't stop sneezing because I'm allergic to horses and my girlfriend forgot she'd last worn her jacket while working in a stable. (Really.) Shit, I've even been to a Kelly Clarkson concert (not my idea), and at least there the opening act was a band I liked. But I tell you now, not one of them was as disappointing as that Counting Crows set. I'm sorry their friend died, I really am... but if you're not able to temporarily put your grief aside -- and I don't blame you if you aren't -- then you've gotta cancel the show and refund everyone's money. Don't subject people to... that. It's not like we killed him.
So the day of the concert finally arrived and we settled into our seats, ready to rock like it's 1995. And I give them a lot of credit- like I said, I wasn't as excited for the Goo Goo Dolls, but they really put on a great show. Lots of energy, they genuinely seemed to want to be there and did a nice job of pumping up the audience, and they played a lot of their greatest hits. No complaints there. In fact, after they finished, I was even more excited for what was undoubtedly going to be a Counting Crows set that would blow my Generation Y mind.
And finally, finally the Crows walked out onto the stage. Adam Duritz picked up the microphone and promptly informed all us concertgoers that they were sorry for being late, but a very good friend of theirs died yesterday. Well. That sucks. I remember feeling sympathetic and wondering if they were going to cancel the show. No, in fact; what Adam went on to slur in a 110% stoned voice was that, in their friend's memory, they were going to have a night of beautiful, beautiful music, to honor him, man.
Well, damn. Now I know Counting Crows are kind of a hippie band; I know that songs like "December" and "Perfect Blue Buildings" could double as funeral dirges in some countries. I was kind of hoping we'd get more of the upbeat peppy songs than emo ones, or at least an even split, but okay, fine... I can deal with some of their slower songs. That could work.
Uh-uh. Nope. Believe me when I tell you that what followed was the most mournful, depressing, slit-your-wrists-at-the-snack-bar music you've ever heard in your life. If you can imagine the Smiths, stoned and in mourning for murdered kittens, you've just about got it. Every single song began low and got lower, and even the short ones were so long it felt like a Phish concert. How on earth do you turn "Mrs. Potter's Lullaby" into a requiem? Somehow they managed it. After about 30 minutes (read: four songs), Ann looked at me and hesitantly asked, "Uh, do you... do you want to stay? I mean, we can if you want to, I know you were looking forward to this..." I remember answering back, just as uncertainly, "Well, let's... let's give it another couple of songs, maybe they'll pick up energy as they go and play some faster stuff." You will not necessarily be shocked when I tell you that this spectacularly failed to happen. We walked out of there when their set couldn't have been more than half over, and I've never regretted that decision for an instant. I'm sure there was someone sitting in that stadium who really dug it, who couldn't get enough of that music to cut yourself by, but brother, he wasn't me.
So that's the story of the worst concert I ever attended. I've been to concerts where I've had beer spilled on me, I've been to concerts where I've seen people thrown out by security, I've been to a concert where I couldn't stop sneezing because I'm allergic to horses and my girlfriend forgot she'd last worn her jacket while working in a stable. (Really.) Shit, I've even been to a Kelly Clarkson concert (not my idea), and at least there the opening act was a band I liked. But I tell you now, not one of them was as disappointing as that Counting Crows set. I'm sorry their friend died, I really am... but if you're not able to temporarily put your grief aside -- and I don't blame you if you aren't -- then you've gotta cancel the show and refund everyone's money. Don't subject people to... that. It's not like we killed him.
Monday, May 11, 2009
It came out HOW long ago?
If you want to feel old (and who doesn't?), I have some advice for you: get satellite radio. Just recently, at about the same time they merged with Sirius, my XM radio's display screen changed so that it scrolls the song title across, same as it always did, but now with the year the song was released right after it. That's simultaneously very informative and extremely depressing, because if you think too hard about it, it reminds you of just how long ago the song was released. As an example: a few weeks ago Ann and I were driving home from work when a song came on the 90s station. I think it was "The Sign" by Ace of Base, but it's not important; what is important is that the year listed was 1993. And actually, even that didn't bother us because, you know, 1993 wasn't that long ago, right? Right, except... then one of us, I forget which, happened to mention that in fact it was sixteen years ago. And that was sobering.
Why's that, you ask? Well, because "The Sign" came out a while back, sure, but it wasn't TOO long ago. I remember listening to it on the radio when it first came out, for God's sake. Whereas if that lying bastard radio were to be believed, it would suggest that for our daughter Molly, "The Sign" and any other song from 1993 will be as much an oldie as songs released in 1964 were for me. Nineteen sixty-effing-four! The Beatles made their first appearance on Ed Sullivan in 1964! (Yes, I had to look that up.) The Rolling Stones released their very first album in 1964! Sixteen years is bleeping forever ago, whereas "The Sign" is, you know, just a shade on the dated side. I absolutely refuse to believe that the time between the Beatles' debut and my birth is the same as the amount of time between songs from 1993 and my daughter's birth. No way.
So that's why satellite radio is evil. And the next time someone tells you "Cherub Rock" came out sixteen years ago, remember that what they actually meant to say is that it came out in 1993, which really wasn't that long ago. Trust me, you'll feel a lot better.
Why's that, you ask? Well, because "The Sign" came out a while back, sure, but it wasn't TOO long ago. I remember listening to it on the radio when it first came out, for God's sake. Whereas if that lying bastard radio were to be believed, it would suggest that for our daughter Molly, "The Sign" and any other song from 1993 will be as much an oldie as songs released in 1964 were for me. Nineteen sixty-effing-four! The Beatles made their first appearance on Ed Sullivan in 1964! (Yes, I had to look that up.) The Rolling Stones released their very first album in 1964! Sixteen years is bleeping forever ago, whereas "The Sign" is, you know, just a shade on the dated side. I absolutely refuse to believe that the time between the Beatles' debut and my birth is the same as the amount of time between songs from 1993 and my daughter's birth. No way.
So that's why satellite radio is evil. And the next time someone tells you "Cherub Rock" came out sixteen years ago, remember that what they actually meant to say is that it came out in 1993, which really wasn't that long ago. Trust me, you'll feel a lot better.
Thursday, April 30, 2009
Busyness school
Whew. Sorry for the lack of updates lately, everyone. All I'll say is, if someone ever corners you in a dark alley and tries to convince you to enroll in business school, Just Say No, understand? Anyone who doesn't respect your desire not to be simultaneously stressed out and bored to tears isn't really your friend. Luckily(?) finals are next week, so after that I should have a little more time for frivolities like blogging and eating. Till then, you stay classy, San Diego!
Thursday, April 23, 2009
Boys and Girls - Action
In our relationship, Ann and I each endure periodic moments of despair over the other person's ignorance of 90s pop culture that we both lived through, and thus should theoretically know something about. For her they're nearly always music related because I spent the 90s listening to 80s music, and thus am liable at any given time to confuse a Pearl Jam song for one by Soundgarden. Shameful, I know. On the other side of the scale, she apparently only watched two channels and saw three movies through the whole of the decade, making a good 80% of my pop culture references fly completely over her head. If not for us both being so damn attractive, I just don't know what would keep us together.
Case in point: this morning we were putting our lunches in the work fridge and Ann mentioned she was surprised I hadn't been eating any of the nutella we have at home. I answered that I just hadn't thought of it, to which she replied, "Mmm, not me, I'm looking forward to having some for lunch. I wanna dip these bananas in it." As you'd expect, I snickered and said, "Hey, that reminds me, did I tell you The State is finally coming to DVD?" She gave me this funny look and asked what on earth made me suddenly think of that.
Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I'm afraid she just Doesn't Get It.
Case in point: this morning we were putting our lunches in the work fridge and Ann mentioned she was surprised I hadn't been eating any of the nutella we have at home. I answered that I just hadn't thought of it, to which she replied, "Mmm, not me, I'm looking forward to having some for lunch. I wanna dip these bananas in it." As you'd expect, I snickered and said, "Hey, that reminds me, did I tell you The State is finally coming to DVD?" She gave me this funny look and asked what on earth made me suddenly think of that.
Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I'm afraid she just Doesn't Get It.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
A Brief Digression
Hey, everyone. I had an entry planned out for today about an exchange Ann and I had earlier that redefined "backhanded compliment." In brief, I made a funny comment, she laughed and asked, "Where is that from?" When I explained that it wasn't from anywhere, I made it up myself, she looked surprised and remarked that she just assumed I got it from somewhere because it was really funny. Yes, she's a keeper, ladies and gentlemen.
That's what I had planned to write about. Instead, I came home from class tonight to have Ann ask me to watch a very sad but moving video by a woman whose blog Ann reads, about her daughter who was born prematurely at 29 weeks but who managed to hang on and even thrive in spite of everything. This little girl, Madeline, died suddenly last week after 17 months of life. Her parents are understandably devastated, but have managed to both create the video I mentioned above, and to establish a March of Dimes donation page in their daughter's name to help children born prematurely. The initial goal for the page to raise was $3000; as of this posting, the total amount raised is approaching $27,000.
This is a little girl I'd never heard of until Ann mentioned her passing to me two days ago. I have no more connection to her than the natural empathy any human being would feel upon hearing of a child's death. But I don't mind telling you, I was emotional after watching the video. No doubt a lot of that is due to being a new father myself; I can't watch it without seeing Molly in a lot of the pictures. But I also can't imagine anyone watching this video and not being affected in some way, parent or otherwise. So in lieu of a funny (in theory) post by me today, I would simply ask that if you're so inclined, set aside 10 minutes or so and watch this movie. Don't do it if you've got a birthday party or a blind date to attend right afterward, obviously; but if you have a chance, give it a viewing and celebrate the life of this little girl who clearly brought so much joy to her family. And if you're of the spiritual bent, please offer a prayer of comfort and solace for the parents of Madeline and all other children who die unexpectedly or at an early age. May their brief but meaningful lives remind us to make the most of the time we have together.
The video can be viewed here. More information about Madeline may be found here.
I love you, Molly. Please don't ever leave us.
That's what I had planned to write about. Instead, I came home from class tonight to have Ann ask me to watch a very sad but moving video by a woman whose blog Ann reads, about her daughter who was born prematurely at 29 weeks but who managed to hang on and even thrive in spite of everything. This little girl, Madeline, died suddenly last week after 17 months of life. Her parents are understandably devastated, but have managed to both create the video I mentioned above, and to establish a March of Dimes donation page in their daughter's name to help children born prematurely. The initial goal for the page to raise was $3000; as of this posting, the total amount raised is approaching $27,000.
This is a little girl I'd never heard of until Ann mentioned her passing to me two days ago. I have no more connection to her than the natural empathy any human being would feel upon hearing of a child's death. But I don't mind telling you, I was emotional after watching the video. No doubt a lot of that is due to being a new father myself; I can't watch it without seeing Molly in a lot of the pictures. But I also can't imagine anyone watching this video and not being affected in some way, parent or otherwise. So in lieu of a funny (in theory) post by me today, I would simply ask that if you're so inclined, set aside 10 minutes or so and watch this movie. Don't do it if you've got a birthday party or a blind date to attend right afterward, obviously; but if you have a chance, give it a viewing and celebrate the life of this little girl who clearly brought so much joy to her family. And if you're of the spiritual bent, please offer a prayer of comfort and solace for the parents of Madeline and all other children who die unexpectedly or at an early age. May their brief but meaningful lives remind us to make the most of the time we have together.
The video can be viewed here. More information about Madeline may be found here.
I love you, Molly. Please don't ever leave us.
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