As we come to the end of another year, it only seems right to reflect back upon it and contemplate. A debriefing, if you will. What was good, what was bad, what could I have done better, and what can I do better next time? But do I want to write an elegy, or a eulogy?
An elegy, of course, is a mournful and sad poem or song, lamenting the loss or passing of something or someone. Sometimes my year felt like it deserved an elegy. There were a lot of endings. We left our home in Baltimore and said goodbye to a lot of friends. I sang my last show with the Washington Opera Chorus, although I didn't know it at the time. I had my last good night's sleep for probably another year or two. We lost my Uncle Gordon. I could definitely write an elegy for 2010.
But I could also write a eulogy. A eulogy is like an elegy, but it's not a song, it's a speech or a piece of writing, and it's not sad. It is written in praise of a person or thing recently deceased or retired. My first son was born in 2010. I got my first opera contract with an "A" house. We relocated back to Vermont, where my wife and I both grew up, and she found a job! Heck, I even started this awesome blog. There is a lot to celebrate.
I thought the question of whether to write an elegy or a eulogy would be answered by my mood at the time of the writing, but today I am feeling medium. I'm a little ambivalent. I feel like I can clearly see both the good and the bad of the past year, but more than anything, I am excited for the new one. I feel like 2010 was a year of figuring out problems, and 2011 will be a year of solving them. I am confident that Simone and I have laid the groundwork in 2010 for the progress we want to make in 2011, and I can't wait!
So I will write neither an elegy nor a eulogy, but instead will look to the future this evening as the ball drops in Times Square and I kiss my wife, who will probably have passed out from exhaustion by then, due to fussy baby all last night. I will not make resolutions, but goals. I will learn from the past, live in the moment, and plan for the future. And I will have fun. So I say to you all, in every sense of the words, Happy New Year!
Friday, December 31, 2010
Thursday, December 30, 2010
Naughty Foot
Sometimes parenting schemes backfire. Such is the case with naughty foot. It all started about a year ago when I was trying to get Ruby dressed one day. She was not wanting to put her clothes on, and was thrashing and crashing about, making it impossible for me to get her pants on her. She told me that her foot was being naughty and wouldn't go in the pants. I asked her which foot was naughty and which one was being good. She showed me the naughty one, so I said "Let's get good foot into the pants," and it totally worked. With one leg in, it was much easier to get the other one in, and so naughty foot was born.
From then on, naughty foot constantly refused to go into pants, shoes, socks, and boots. Good foot, however, was always very helpful and would put on anything I asked it to. This seemed to be going well, until I was introduced to naughty hand.
Naughty hand was very similar to naughty foot, refusing to enter shirts, coats, jackets and sweaters. This was perfectly annoying on its own, but sometimes naughty hand and naughty foot would team up to fight the forces of Dad, and then there would be problems. At least I always had good hand and good foot to help me. Such was not the case with naughty head.
Naughty head has no good counterpart. Naughty head is pure naughtiness and does not enjoy going into shirts and jammies. Naughty head enjoys whipping back and forth and often crashing into Dad head. Naughty head gets in trouble a lot.
I think my initial problem was underestimating the creativity and mischievousness of my daughter. Do I regret creating naughty foot? I feel bad saying that I do, because naughty foot and I had some good times together. I think where I went wrong was creating a creature using my DNA, because this whole story sounds like something I would totally do to my parents. So I guess I'm actually okay with naughty foot; I just feel bad for my wife.
From then on, naughty foot constantly refused to go into pants, shoes, socks, and boots. Good foot, however, was always very helpful and would put on anything I asked it to. This seemed to be going well, until I was introduced to naughty hand.
Naughty hand was very similar to naughty foot, refusing to enter shirts, coats, jackets and sweaters. This was perfectly annoying on its own, but sometimes naughty hand and naughty foot would team up to fight the forces of Dad, and then there would be problems. At least I always had good hand and good foot to help me. Such was not the case with naughty head.
Naughty head has no good counterpart. Naughty head is pure naughtiness and does not enjoy going into shirts and jammies. Naughty head enjoys whipping back and forth and often crashing into Dad head. Naughty head gets in trouble a lot.
I think my initial problem was underestimating the creativity and mischievousness of my daughter. Do I regret creating naughty foot? I feel bad saying that I do, because naughty foot and I had some good times together. I think where I went wrong was creating a creature using my DNA, because this whole story sounds like something I would totally do to my parents. So I guess I'm actually okay with naughty foot; I just feel bad for my wife.
Wednesday, December 29, 2010
In Defense of Social Discomfort
Recently, amazon.com received a patent for allowing people to return gifts before they have even been received. That really got me thinking about gifts, and the purpose of gifts. On one hand, we are living on a planet of limited resources. Why not let people convert their unwanted gifts into gift certificates for stuff they will actually use, instead of having piles of unread books and unworn sweaters all over the country? But on the other hand, some of my favorite gifts of all time are the things that were not on my list; the surprises, and the things I would never have thought to buy for myself.
We are living in interesting times. Since the dawn of mankind, we have all been striving to be more comfortable. The tools we have developed have been in the service of tasks that we could not do otherwise, or are annoying and bothersome. For the greater part of human history, these inventions and innovations have been about ridding us of physical discomfort. We no longer have to kill our food with our bare hands. We no longer have to stumble outside on a cold winter's night to relieve ourselves. We no longer have to walk for days to reach other people. We no longer have to get up off the couch to change the channel on the television. In fact, I would say that we are about as physically comfortable as we are going to get. Sure not everyone can afford every luxury, and plenty of people live in cold, drafty, uncomfortable places, but the technology is out there. We live a physically comfortable life. And that's the problem.
We've run out of physically uncomfortable things to rid ourselves of, so we have now, in the twenty-first century, decided to rid ourselves of the socially uncomfortable things instead. People often no longer know their neighbors. And why should they? Their neighbors might be weird, or hold different views than themselves! We don't need to put up with that anymore! People in offices send e-mails to colleagues seated a few cubicles down from them, rather than actually walking over and speaking to them. Much easier to ask them to do things, or assert your opinion, when they have no chance to interrupt. And friends? Well, we have facebook for that now. Why on Earth should we have to get together with a big group of friends, some of whom we may not actually enjoy, when we can just send them status updates, and save our get-togethers for the chosen few that we actually do enjoy hanging out with?
If you drop an average modern day American into the middle of a forest, they would not know the first thing about surviving. What berries to eat, which trees and plants are which, what poisonous snakes look like, etc. We have no experience with that, except by choice, and so it is only natural that many of us are "out of touch with nature." My fear is that, if current trends continue, the average future America would not know what to do when dropped into a room full of people. How to interact with strangers, how to be polite, how to show respect for other people's views and beliefs. If we can't even graciously accept a bad gift, how can we expect to work together and understand each other?
If we filter out all of the awkward social discomfort, then we are missing out on the human social experience. Nobody likes everybody, and nobody agrees with anyone else 100%, but if we simply hide them on our facebook wall, or quickly walk from our car to our front door, hoping to not have to speak to anyone else, we are doing ourselves a disservice. Honestly, you are not as great as you think you are. You have no more rights than anyone else, and your opinions are no more valid. It's just hard to remember that sometimes when you have successfully removed all traces of social discomfort from your life. Do yourself a favor and hang out with someone you don't think you like. Don't give out a Christmas list next year, and really be surprised. Other people have a lot to offer you. Appreciate it. Enjoy navigating the uncomfortable social world of "everyone else," before you forget how.
We are living in interesting times. Since the dawn of mankind, we have all been striving to be more comfortable. The tools we have developed have been in the service of tasks that we could not do otherwise, or are annoying and bothersome. For the greater part of human history, these inventions and innovations have been about ridding us of physical discomfort. We no longer have to kill our food with our bare hands. We no longer have to stumble outside on a cold winter's night to relieve ourselves. We no longer have to walk for days to reach other people. We no longer have to get up off the couch to change the channel on the television. In fact, I would say that we are about as physically comfortable as we are going to get. Sure not everyone can afford every luxury, and plenty of people live in cold, drafty, uncomfortable places, but the technology is out there. We live a physically comfortable life. And that's the problem.
We've run out of physically uncomfortable things to rid ourselves of, so we have now, in the twenty-first century, decided to rid ourselves of the socially uncomfortable things instead. People often no longer know their neighbors. And why should they? Their neighbors might be weird, or hold different views than themselves! We don't need to put up with that anymore! People in offices send e-mails to colleagues seated a few cubicles down from them, rather than actually walking over and speaking to them. Much easier to ask them to do things, or assert your opinion, when they have no chance to interrupt. And friends? Well, we have facebook for that now. Why on Earth should we have to get together with a big group of friends, some of whom we may not actually enjoy, when we can just send them status updates, and save our get-togethers for the chosen few that we actually do enjoy hanging out with?
If you drop an average modern day American into the middle of a forest, they would not know the first thing about surviving. What berries to eat, which trees and plants are which, what poisonous snakes look like, etc. We have no experience with that, except by choice, and so it is only natural that many of us are "out of touch with nature." My fear is that, if current trends continue, the average future America would not know what to do when dropped into a room full of people. How to interact with strangers, how to be polite, how to show respect for other people's views and beliefs. If we can't even graciously accept a bad gift, how can we expect to work together and understand each other?
If we filter out all of the awkward social discomfort, then we are missing out on the human social experience. Nobody likes everybody, and nobody agrees with anyone else 100%, but if we simply hide them on our facebook wall, or quickly walk from our car to our front door, hoping to not have to speak to anyone else, we are doing ourselves a disservice. Honestly, you are not as great as you think you are. You have no more rights than anyone else, and your opinions are no more valid. It's just hard to remember that sometimes when you have successfully removed all traces of social discomfort from your life. Do yourself a favor and hang out with someone you don't think you like. Don't give out a Christmas list next year, and really be surprised. Other people have a lot to offer you. Appreciate it. Enjoy navigating the uncomfortable social world of "everyone else," before you forget how.
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
House Hunting
Simone has a new job, so that can only mean one thing. It's house hunting season again! Time to move out of our apartment that is literally the size of a two car garage (because it sits atop a two car garage)! Time to move somewhere closer to civilization (or at least closer to her job)! Time to move somewhere that has stairs (well, that's not a must in my book, but Ruby really misses having stairs)!
Looking for a place to rent is infinitely more fun than looking for a place to buy. There are no nasty mortgage people to deal with, no realtors, no inspections, far less paperwork, and best of all, no long-term commitment. For an opera singer on the go, and for someone who hopes and expects his income to drastically change over the next few years, this sounds perfect.
So we have a few requirements for the place we are going to live. It has to be pretty cheap, but also really nice. We need at least three bedrooms, and one of us really wants stairs. It has to be close to Simone's new job, and also close to a store of some kind, so that we do not have to drive thirty minutes to get groceries like we do now. Of course they have to allow cats, and have a washer and dryer (since we couldn't fit ours in the truck and left them in Baltimore). A hot tub would be nice. I think that's it. So where to find this place? Craigslist!
I feel like I have a lot of criteria listed, and was surprised to find several likely looking place on Craigslist. We're going to look at one place tomorrow, and I've heard back from a few more. Hopefully by February we will be in a new place. We can't move in January, since I will be in Florida, and I am not allowed to just show up at the end of the move with pizza, like I did last time.
Wish us luck! The last thing we feel like doing is packing everything up and moving again, but the first thing we feel like doing is getting into a new place that our growing family will fit into. I can't wait to write my blog called "Moving Day Again."
Looking for a place to rent is infinitely more fun than looking for a place to buy. There are no nasty mortgage people to deal with, no realtors, no inspections, far less paperwork, and best of all, no long-term commitment. For an opera singer on the go, and for someone who hopes and expects his income to drastically change over the next few years, this sounds perfect.
So we have a few requirements for the place we are going to live. It has to be pretty cheap, but also really nice. We need at least three bedrooms, and one of us really wants stairs. It has to be close to Simone's new job, and also close to a store of some kind, so that we do not have to drive thirty minutes to get groceries like we do now. Of course they have to allow cats, and have a washer and dryer (since we couldn't fit ours in the truck and left them in Baltimore). A hot tub would be nice. I think that's it. So where to find this place? Craigslist!
I feel like I have a lot of criteria listed, and was surprised to find several likely looking place on Craigslist. We're going to look at one place tomorrow, and I've heard back from a few more. Hopefully by February we will be in a new place. We can't move in January, since I will be in Florida, and I am not allowed to just show up at the end of the move with pizza, like I did last time.
Wish us luck! The last thing we feel like doing is packing everything up and moving again, but the first thing we feel like doing is getting into a new place that our growing family will fit into. I can't wait to write my blog called "Moving Day Again."
Monday, December 27, 2010
The Night Before Christmas
Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Everybody was crazy, especially mouse.
The stockings were hung by the DVD shelves
In hopes that they still can be reached by the elves.
The children were supposed to be snug in their beds,
But were whining and jumping and playing instead.
And mamma in her jammies, and I in mine too,
Had just realized we had a million more things to do.
When from Ruby's room there arose such a clatter,
I hid all the gifts while Mom checked on the matter.
Away to the closet I flew like a flash
Had just realized we had a million more things to do.
When from Ruby's room there arose such a clatter,
I hid all the gifts while Mom checked on the matter.
Away to the closet I flew like a flash
And threw the unwrapped gifts inside with a crash.
The stuff on the rug on the living room floor
Gave the lustre of D-day to our house, times four.
When, what toward my wondering eyes should then leap,
But Simone, who said Ruby was finally asleep.
With the living room driving me crazy and sick,
I knew in a moment we must clean it, quick!.
More wrapping and cleaning, of course it was lame,
And I grumbled, and shouted, and cursed them by name!
"Damn laundry! damn, dishes! damn tangles of cords!
Damn, piles of papers! Damn fake plastic swords!
Damn Toy Story Beanies! Damn one-time use flossers!
Damn stroller! Damn high chair, and damn exersaucer!
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane zoom,
All the stuff in our house got thrown into our room.
So up to the Christmas tree, ready to go
With our arms full of Toys, our work started to show.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard Edward cry
But he can come out, it's okay baby guy.
Sure he saw all the stuff, his eyes wide, his mouth yawning,
But he's nine months old. He'll forget by the morning!
The two bad balls of fur started clawing my foot
One with grey mousey color, and one black as soot.
I wondered why they seemed to have just smoked crack,
Then I saw the catnip, they'd clawed open the pack.
The stuff on the rug on the living room floor
Gave the lustre of D-day to our house, times four.
When, what toward my wondering eyes should then leap,
But Simone, who said Ruby was finally asleep.
With the living room driving me crazy and sick,
I knew in a moment we must clean it, quick!.
More wrapping and cleaning, of course it was lame,
And I grumbled, and shouted, and cursed them by name!
"Damn laundry! damn, dishes! damn tangles of cords!
Damn, piles of papers! Damn fake plastic swords!
Damn Toy Story Beanies! Damn one-time use flossers!
Damn stroller! Damn high chair, and damn exersaucer!
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane zoom,
All the stuff in our house got thrown into our room.
So up to the Christmas tree, ready to go
With our arms full of Toys, our work started to show.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard Edward cry
But he can come out, it's okay baby guy.
Sure he saw all the stuff, his eyes wide, his mouth yawning,
But he's nine months old. He'll forget by the morning!
The two bad balls of fur started clawing my foot
One with grey mousey color, and one black as soot.
I wondered why they seemed to have just smoked crack,
Then I saw the catnip, they'd clawed open the pack.
Their eyes, how they twinkled! Their whiskers, how merry!
Their claws were like razors. Did it hurt much? Very!
I snatched up the catnip and scolded the cats,
We finished our prep-work, and so that was that.
We ate up the cookies and drank the milk too,
Their claws were like razors. Did it hurt much? Very!
I snatched up the catnip and scolded the cats,
We finished our prep-work, and so that was that.
We ate up the cookies and drank the milk too,
we weren't really hungry, but what can you do?
Eating after eight is not good for my belly,
But I took some Tums and then turned off the telly.
Eating after eight is not good for my belly,
But I took some Tums and then turned off the telly.
I was chubby and plump, but too tired to care,
The kids would be up in five hours, I swear!
I closed both my eyes and I lay down my head,
I was tired but satisfied. (That's what she said)
The presents were wrapped and the house was all clean.
The kids would be up in five hours, I swear!
I closed both my eyes and I lay down my head,
I was tired but satisfied. (That's what she said)
The presents were wrapped and the house was all clean.
The stockings were stuffed and the kitties were mean.
The children were sleeping and so was my wife.
I had to admit, It's a Wonderful Life.
I do hate that movie, I'll tell you why later,
but on Christmas it's not good to be a hater.
So I'll say just say what you're expecting to hear:
"Merry Christmas to all, and a Happy New Year!"
Friday, December 24, 2010
Christmas Eve Shop 'n' Swap
I don't recall having a lot of Christmas eve traditions growing up. I mean, my father was a pastor, so we always went to church. We also got to open one present on Christmas eve before we went to bed. One year my sister and brother and I all got big stuffed talking Alvin, Simon, and Theodore toys that night, which was pretty much the coolest thing ever, but other than that, my holiday memories are all of Christmas morning. The stockings, the presents, the french toast, the reading of the Christmas story from the Bible, the playing with toys all day, you get the picture. (Mom, if we did have more rigid traditions on Christmas eve, feel free to comment below, but try to keep it to one paragraph)
In Germany, however, Christmas eve is a bigger deal. When I married into a German family, I inherited a lot of traditions, but my favorite by far is the shop 'n' swap. It's not very German, to be sure, but every year on Christmas eve, Simone and her family go to a market street (usually Church Street in Burlington, but last year we went to Hampden in Baltimore) and everybody splits up. The goal is to buy a gift for everyone else involved in about an hour, but each gift cannot cost more than $4. It actually started at $2.50, but you know...inflation. Once everyone has finished shopping, we all go back to my mother-in-law's place and wrap the gifts. Then we have lunch and everyone opens their presents to see what exciting, terrifying, or wonderful thing has been purchased for them for the low, low price of $4 or less. Oh, and the other caveat is that each gift must somehow be "useful." Interpret that however you like.
This is actually kind of a difficult game. There aren't that many awesome things out there for under $4. And believe me, you want the gifts to be awesome. How else can you win? My wife and her mother and sisters keep insisting that there is no winner in shop 'n' swap, but that's only because none of them ever win. My brother-in-law Dave and I are in a fierce battle every year to see which of us husbands is going to knock out a victory. They also contend that it is not called "Shop 'n' Swap" but rather "The Christmas Game," but I think we all know which name is awesome and which one is lame.
The store employees totally get into it too. I think there must be something intoxicating about a crazed bearded man running into your otherwise dull shop and shouting "Show me everything in this store that costs less than $4!" They almost always drop what they are doing and start helping you search. Nothing brings people together at the holidays like trying to make a sale.
So as you read this, I am probably out shopping and/or swapping and having a great time with my family, old and new. I hope you are having fun doing whatever it is you always do, and if you are doing something new, who knows? It might just be your new favorite tradition. Merry Christmas!
In Germany, however, Christmas eve is a bigger deal. When I married into a German family, I inherited a lot of traditions, but my favorite by far is the shop 'n' swap. It's not very German, to be sure, but every year on Christmas eve, Simone and her family go to a market street (usually Church Street in Burlington, but last year we went to Hampden in Baltimore) and everybody splits up. The goal is to buy a gift for everyone else involved in about an hour, but each gift cannot cost more than $4. It actually started at $2.50, but you know...inflation. Once everyone has finished shopping, we all go back to my mother-in-law's place and wrap the gifts. Then we have lunch and everyone opens their presents to see what exciting, terrifying, or wonderful thing has been purchased for them for the low, low price of $4 or less. Oh, and the other caveat is that each gift must somehow be "useful." Interpret that however you like.
This is actually kind of a difficult game. There aren't that many awesome things out there for under $4. And believe me, you want the gifts to be awesome. How else can you win? My wife and her mother and sisters keep insisting that there is no winner in shop 'n' swap, but that's only because none of them ever win. My brother-in-law Dave and I are in a fierce battle every year to see which of us husbands is going to knock out a victory. They also contend that it is not called "Shop 'n' Swap" but rather "The Christmas Game," but I think we all know which name is awesome and which one is lame.
The store employees totally get into it too. I think there must be something intoxicating about a crazed bearded man running into your otherwise dull shop and shouting "Show me everything in this store that costs less than $4!" They almost always drop what they are doing and start helping you search. Nothing brings people together at the holidays like trying to make a sale.
So as you read this, I am probably out shopping and/or swapping and having a great time with my family, old and new. I hope you are having fun doing whatever it is you always do, and if you are doing something new, who knows? It might just be your new favorite tradition. Merry Christmas!
Thursday, December 23, 2010
How I Sold My Tree Video to a TV Show & Other Accounts of Near Fame
Perhaps many of you have seen the video of the Christmas Tree falling on top of me. Others of you might remember that I blogged about it. This is the story of what happened next.
I was happy to see that people were reposting my video on Facebook. I was glad to give people a holiday laugh. I mean, it was pretty funny. I was even laughing as the tree was falling onto me. Funny video, nice story, and that was that. Then, somehow or other, I ended up on the front page of The Huffington Post. I have no idea if my video was just the most recent tree video they could find, or they really thought it was the funniest, but there I was, lying under a tree, all over the internet.
The HuffPost article was basically just a link to an asylum.com article that linked to videos of trees falling on people. Again, not sure why my picture was at the top, or why I was first, but it sure was funny. That's when I started getting a lot of hits on the youtube video. Not "a lot" a lot. It's no Bed Intruder Song, but I was getting thousands of hits a day, which was a lot for me.
After a day or two, the article rotated its way off of the front page, and I figured that would be it, but that wasn't it! It kept getting hits, and other websites reposted it, like this random Danish website! That's when youtube contacted me, asking if I would like to make money off of my popular video. I told them how much I hated money, but they were very persuasive. When I found out I could be making up to ones of dollars a day, I caved in, and let them put ads on that video page. So far I have made $10. Whoo-hoo!
Then I was contacted by TruTV, which is a cable network of some sort, and they wanted to buy the rights to the video for their show "It Only Hurts When I Laugh," which I guess is a show about people getting hurt and then laughing. Of course I was wary. Would I lose the rights to the video? What if I wanted to show it as a clip the next time I was on Conan? Well, not to worry. I sold them the NON-exclusive rights to the video for $200, meaning they can put it in their show, and I can still sell it to whomever else I please.
So now I'm just waiting for Hollywood to come calling. They will probably want to extend the video into a feature film, about the hardships of chopping down Christmas Trees in a struggling community where one man, who everyone else gave up on, still finds the courage deep within himself, to incorrectly chop down a tree and be crushed underneath it. I can hear the Oscar buzz already. But even if that doesn't happen, hey, the tree's already paid for itself, so I've got that going for me.
Other Places to Find the Video:
Radio Station Website in Cleveland
Stuff I Stole From the Internet
Random Croatian Site
Random Italian Site
Random Macedonian Site
I was happy to see that people were reposting my video on Facebook. I was glad to give people a holiday laugh. I mean, it was pretty funny. I was even laughing as the tree was falling onto me. Funny video, nice story, and that was that. Then, somehow or other, I ended up on the front page of The Huffington Post. I have no idea if my video was just the most recent tree video they could find, or they really thought it was the funniest, but there I was, lying under a tree, all over the internet.
The HuffPost article was basically just a link to an asylum.com article that linked to videos of trees falling on people. Again, not sure why my picture was at the top, or why I was first, but it sure was funny. That's when I started getting a lot of hits on the youtube video. Not "a lot" a lot. It's no Bed Intruder Song, but I was getting thousands of hits a day, which was a lot for me.
After a day or two, the article rotated its way off of the front page, and I figured that would be it, but that wasn't it! It kept getting hits, and other websites reposted it, like this random Danish website! That's when youtube contacted me, asking if I would like to make money off of my popular video. I told them how much I hated money, but they were very persuasive. When I found out I could be making up to ones of dollars a day, I caved in, and let them put ads on that video page. So far I have made $10. Whoo-hoo!
Then I was contacted by TruTV, which is a cable network of some sort, and they wanted to buy the rights to the video for their show "It Only Hurts When I Laugh," which I guess is a show about people getting hurt and then laughing. Of course I was wary. Would I lose the rights to the video? What if I wanted to show it as a clip the next time I was on Conan? Well, not to worry. I sold them the NON-exclusive rights to the video for $200, meaning they can put it in their show, and I can still sell it to whomever else I please.
So now I'm just waiting for Hollywood to come calling. They will probably want to extend the video into a feature film, about the hardships of chopping down Christmas Trees in a struggling community where one man, who everyone else gave up on, still finds the courage deep within himself, to incorrectly chop down a tree and be crushed underneath it. I can hear the Oscar buzz already. But even if that doesn't happen, hey, the tree's already paid for itself, so I've got that going for me.
Other Places to Find the Video:
Radio Station Website in Cleveland
Stuff I Stole From the Internet
Random Croatian Site
Random Italian Site
Random Macedonian Site
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
Simone's First Day of Work
Things are happening very quickly around here. Last week nobody in my house had a job. Then on Friday, Simone got an interview, Monday she got a job, and Tuesday she started work. All was right with the world once again, as Simone headed off to the office for her first day (just 18 hours after being offered the position) and I got ready to be a stay-at-home Tenor Dad once again.
Step One: Drop Ruby off at preschool.
Step Two: Enjoy a relaxing morning while Edward naps.
Step Three: Pick up Ruby, feed her lunch, and then bake cookies all afternoon.
Step one went really well. It was immediately following step one that things went downhill. It quickly became clear to me that, having been basically gone for the past three months, I was no longer familiar with the day to day routines of my children. I knew, for instance, that Edward needed his antibiotics for his ear infection, but I had no idea if Simone had given them to him before she left or not. Since she was at work and not answering her phone, I spent the better part of an hour trying to figure out if it was better to skip a dose or antibiotics, or to double up. On which side of caution should I err?
It was right about when I finally figured out that he had not had his medicine yet that the school called to tell me Ruby had conjunctivitis and I needed to pick her up right away. So we packed into the car and picked Ruby up from school. She was very upset to be taken home early, and even more upset that Mommy was not home to greet her. I swear she looked out the window to see if Mommy was home every twenty minutes, all day long, even though I told her it would be another seven hours.
I decided to move on to step three and get lunch ready. This was harder than I had supposed, because last week Baby Edward was fairly stationary. As of yesterday, he can suddenly crawl around the apartment very well and do whatever he likes. And what he likes is to destroy and/or eat things. Inappropriate things. Mostly cats and plastic bags.
I made lunch for a while, stopping every few seconds to put the baby back to his starting point. Eventually I just put him in his seat and poured half a container of puffs onto his tray and let him go to town. For those of you without children, puffs are melt-in-your-mouth baby snacks that are the infant equivalent of crack. Well, we made it through lunch, and we even successfully wrapped Mommy's Christmas presents, so it was time to tackle the baking of the eight batches of cookies we had planned out for the week.
First up were the Hershey Kiss peanut butter cookies that everyone loves. Ruby had picked them out special to help with, so we got all the ingredients together and started mixing them up with the electric mixer. It was at this point that the electric mixer broke. And by broke I do not mean "stopped working." By broke I mean the piece of plastic that holds in the beaters snapped off and the beaters went shooting across the kitchen, spraying peanut butter batter in their wake. Luckily the cookies were basically mixed at that point, so we were able to finish them up, but that left us with no way to finish the other seven batches of cookies, so instead we watched "Ernest Saves Christmas" while Baby Edward tried to unwrap all of the presents and eat the tree.
It was around this time that Ruby got very concerned that if we left the milk out for Santa with the cookies we had just baked, it would go bad. So she asked if we could just leave the milk in the fridge with a note for Santa, telling him where the milk was. Also, we could leave him a note as to where the glasses were in the cabinet, so he could just get his own milk. What were we, his slaves? He's lucky we didn't just leave the cookie ingredients out on the counter with a recipe and an arrow pointing to the stove.
Eventually Simone did get home, and said her day was basically just a training day. Unfortunately it sounded a lot more boring than the movie "Training Day," but that's just how life is sometimes. So I guess Simone will go back to work tomorrow, and we will stay home and try and make more cookies. I'll let you know how it goes.
Step One: Drop Ruby off at preschool.
Step Two: Enjoy a relaxing morning while Edward naps.
Step Three: Pick up Ruby, feed her lunch, and then bake cookies all afternoon.
Step one went really well. It was immediately following step one that things went downhill. It quickly became clear to me that, having been basically gone for the past three months, I was no longer familiar with the day to day routines of my children. I knew, for instance, that Edward needed his antibiotics for his ear infection, but I had no idea if Simone had given them to him before she left or not. Since she was at work and not answering her phone, I spent the better part of an hour trying to figure out if it was better to skip a dose or antibiotics, or to double up. On which side of caution should I err?
It was right about when I finally figured out that he had not had his medicine yet that the school called to tell me Ruby had conjunctivitis and I needed to pick her up right away. So we packed into the car and picked Ruby up from school. She was very upset to be taken home early, and even more upset that Mommy was not home to greet her. I swear she looked out the window to see if Mommy was home every twenty minutes, all day long, even though I told her it would be another seven hours.
I decided to move on to step three and get lunch ready. This was harder than I had supposed, because last week Baby Edward was fairly stationary. As of yesterday, he can suddenly crawl around the apartment very well and do whatever he likes. And what he likes is to destroy and/or eat things. Inappropriate things. Mostly cats and plastic bags.
I made lunch for a while, stopping every few seconds to put the baby back to his starting point. Eventually I just put him in his seat and poured half a container of puffs onto his tray and let him go to town. For those of you without children, puffs are melt-in-your-mouth baby snacks that are the infant equivalent of crack. Well, we made it through lunch, and we even successfully wrapped Mommy's Christmas presents, so it was time to tackle the baking of the eight batches of cookies we had planned out for the week.
First up were the Hershey Kiss peanut butter cookies that everyone loves. Ruby had picked them out special to help with, so we got all the ingredients together and started mixing them up with the electric mixer. It was at this point that the electric mixer broke. And by broke I do not mean "stopped working." By broke I mean the piece of plastic that holds in the beaters snapped off and the beaters went shooting across the kitchen, spraying peanut butter batter in their wake. Luckily the cookies were basically mixed at that point, so we were able to finish them up, but that left us with no way to finish the other seven batches of cookies, so instead we watched "Ernest Saves Christmas" while Baby Edward tried to unwrap all of the presents and eat the tree.
It was around this time that Ruby got very concerned that if we left the milk out for Santa with the cookies we had just baked, it would go bad. So she asked if we could just leave the milk in the fridge with a note for Santa, telling him where the milk was. Also, we could leave him a note as to where the glasses were in the cabinet, so he could just get his own milk. What were we, his slaves? He's lucky we didn't just leave the cookie ingredients out on the counter with a recipe and an arrow pointing to the stove.
Eventually Simone did get home, and said her day was basically just a training day. Unfortunately it sounded a lot more boring than the movie "Training Day," but that's just how life is sometimes. So I guess Simone will go back to work tomorrow, and we will stay home and try and make more cookies. I'll let you know how it goes.
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
The Top 10 Christmas Albums of All Time
Okay, okay, when I say "of all time" I really mean "on my iPod," but really that's all I have to go on, as I have not listened to every Christmas album of all time, and therefore would be a pretty poor judge overall.
As a musician, one of my favorite parts of December is listening to all the great songs and carols that really get me in the holiday mood. Sure I love the cookies and the decorations, but nothing gets me feeling that peace on Earth and goodwill toward men (and women) like "All I Want for Christmas is You" by Mariah Carey. I love the old, and I love the new, and I wanted to share some of my favorite holiday albums with all of you, in the hopes that maybe you will discover something to make your season a little brighter. And if I've missed something awesome that you love, please let me know!
1) The Beach Boys Christmas Album
These are in no particular order, but let's start with a classic. The Beach Boys' lush harmonic sound seems like a perfect fit for Christmas, and it is. They put their spin on favorites like "We Three Kings" and "White Christmas," but also add new instant classics to the Christmastime repertoire, including "Santa's Beard" and the oft-covered "Little Saint Nick."
2) Bing Crosby - The Christmas Collection
Now let's go back even further. Really, nothing says Christmas like Bing. That smooth voice crooning out "White Christmas" and "There's No Place Like Home For the Holidays" makes me want to eat cookies and wrap presents no matter what month I hear it in.
3) The Brian Setzer Orchestra - Boogie Woogie Christmas & Dig That Crazy Christmas
Is that cheating? I have included two albums here, but really they are like extensions of one rockin' thing. This is great listen if you are decorating for a party, or currently having a party, or cleaning up from a party. It's just fun. When he sings "Jingle Bells" and replaces "one horse open sleigh" with "'57 Chevrolet" you know you are in for a good time, and his swinging "Nutcracker Suite" remains one of my favorite things to hear this time of year.
4) Barenaked Ladies - Barenaked for the Holidays
I liked this the instant I bought it, lo those many years ago when it came out in 2004, and it has remained a playful addition to my holiday playlist. This album also has several Hanukkah songs on it as well, and I actually like them better than their Christmas originals, specifically "Hanukkah Blessings." Also, I dare you to listen to "Deck the Stills" and not laugh.
5) Claymation Christmas Celebration
Not only is this one of the best Christmas TV specials out there, but the album is even better than the show! You get the awesome "We Three Kings" with the doo wop camels, and you get all the Waffling, Waddling, Wallowing, and Wassailing you can handle, but you also get stuff that wasn't in the show, like an hilarious "Up on the Housetop" in which Santa is shot and peed on, and a really rollicking "Hark the Herald Angels Sing," if you can believe it! Sadly, this album is not in print anymore. I got mine on eBay for approximately one million dollars, but it was the best million bucks I've ever spent.
6) Passing Notes - Big Red Hat
No, I am not biased! Yes, this was my a cappella group that I directed when I lived in Silver Spring. Yes, I did most of the arrangements and sing on all of the tracks. Yes, there is a picture of my cat in a Santa hat inside the jewel case. But no! I am not biased. This CD is awesome. Anyone I've ever sold or given one too has told me how much they enjoyed it, and not just with their mouths, but with their wallets! I gave one to Uncle Kevin when I was staying in his apartment in New York, and he bought ten more! And he mentions every time I see him now how much he enjoys the CD. And this is not an isolated incident. So I am not biased, and if you want one, I have several boxes in my sisters basement. Give me a call.
7) Mitch Miller - Holiday Sing Along with Mitch
I have no idea if this album is good. I really am biased on this one. This was the record that my mother would put on every year when we set up our decorations and trimmed the tree. Hearing any of these songs again instantly transports me to my childhood, and all the best parts of it. I still don't know if I am forcing Ruby and Edward to suffer through it, or if I am giving them the same happy memories that I had. Give it a listen, and then let me know.
8) Handel's Soulful Messiah
I don't want to put this down in any way when I say that this album makes me laugh every time I hear it. It is a joyous laughter at how unbelievable it is that they could take "The Messiah" and fit it into so many fun styles. From the rapping "Every Valley" to the almost scatting jazz "Why Do the Nations So Furiously Rage?" it is a true pleasure to bring this out every year.
9) George Winston - December
10) John Denver & The Muppets - A Christmas Together
And now my favorite Christmas album of all time! I love the Muppets, and never more so than on this wonderful compilation of holiday tunes that they sing with the late John Denver. The songs are fun, and clever in their Muppety way, and if you pair this with the soundtrack to "A Muppet Christmas Carol" you're going to have a good time. Miss Piggy makes mayhem on half of the tracks, Dr. Teeth and crew disrupt everyone as much as possible, and Animal growls and shouts over the whole thing, and yet, there are moments of such sweetness, it truly feels like a family Christmas.
I would like to give an honorable mention to the Glee Christmas Album, which I am currently enjoying in all of its cheesiness, but it is too new to know if it is really an instant classic or not. Also, Simone's favorites that didn't make my list are Sarah McLachlan's "Wintersong" and Martina McBride's "White Christmas," which are both quite good. And though the album definitely does not make my list, for a really fun track check out "O Little Town of Bethlehem" from Bob Rivers' "I Am Santa Claus" album. Do you have other favorites? Comment away!
As a musician, one of my favorite parts of December is listening to all the great songs and carols that really get me in the holiday mood. Sure I love the cookies and the decorations, but nothing gets me feeling that peace on Earth and goodwill toward men (and women) like "All I Want for Christmas is You" by Mariah Carey. I love the old, and I love the new, and I wanted to share some of my favorite holiday albums with all of you, in the hopes that maybe you will discover something to make your season a little brighter. And if I've missed something awesome that you love, please let me know!
1) The Beach Boys Christmas Album
These are in no particular order, but let's start with a classic. The Beach Boys' lush harmonic sound seems like a perfect fit for Christmas, and it is. They put their spin on favorites like "We Three Kings" and "White Christmas," but also add new instant classics to the Christmastime repertoire, including "Santa's Beard" and the oft-covered "Little Saint Nick."
2) Bing Crosby - The Christmas Collection
Now let's go back even further. Really, nothing says Christmas like Bing. That smooth voice crooning out "White Christmas" and "There's No Place Like Home For the Holidays" makes me want to eat cookies and wrap presents no matter what month I hear it in.
3) The Brian Setzer Orchestra - Boogie Woogie Christmas & Dig That Crazy Christmas
Is that cheating? I have included two albums here, but really they are like extensions of one rockin' thing. This is great listen if you are decorating for a party, or currently having a party, or cleaning up from a party. It's just fun. When he sings "Jingle Bells" and replaces "one horse open sleigh" with "'57 Chevrolet" you know you are in for a good time, and his swinging "Nutcracker Suite" remains one of my favorite things to hear this time of year.
4) Barenaked Ladies - Barenaked for the Holidays
I liked this the instant I bought it, lo those many years ago when it came out in 2004, and it has remained a playful addition to my holiday playlist. This album also has several Hanukkah songs on it as well, and I actually like them better than their Christmas originals, specifically "Hanukkah Blessings." Also, I dare you to listen to "Deck the Stills" and not laugh.
5) Claymation Christmas Celebration
Not only is this one of the best Christmas TV specials out there, but the album is even better than the show! You get the awesome "We Three Kings" with the doo wop camels, and you get all the Waffling, Waddling, Wallowing, and Wassailing you can handle, but you also get stuff that wasn't in the show, like an hilarious "Up on the Housetop" in which Santa is shot and peed on, and a really rollicking "Hark the Herald Angels Sing," if you can believe it! Sadly, this album is not in print anymore. I got mine on eBay for approximately one million dollars, but it was the best million bucks I've ever spent.
6) Passing Notes - Big Red Hat
No, I am not biased! Yes, this was my a cappella group that I directed when I lived in Silver Spring. Yes, I did most of the arrangements and sing on all of the tracks. Yes, there is a picture of my cat in a Santa hat inside the jewel case. But no! I am not biased. This CD is awesome. Anyone I've ever sold or given one too has told me how much they enjoyed it, and not just with their mouths, but with their wallets! I gave one to Uncle Kevin when I was staying in his apartment in New York, and he bought ten more! And he mentions every time I see him now how much he enjoys the CD. And this is not an isolated incident. So I am not biased, and if you want one, I have several boxes in my sisters basement. Give me a call.
7) Mitch Miller - Holiday Sing Along with Mitch
I have no idea if this album is good. I really am biased on this one. This was the record that my mother would put on every year when we set up our decorations and trimmed the tree. Hearing any of these songs again instantly transports me to my childhood, and all the best parts of it. I still don't know if I am forcing Ruby and Edward to suffer through it, or if I am giving them the same happy memories that I had. Give it a listen, and then let me know.
8) Handel's Soulful Messiah
I don't want to put this down in any way when I say that this album makes me laugh every time I hear it. It is a joyous laughter at how unbelievable it is that they could take "The Messiah" and fit it into so many fun styles. From the rapping "Every Valley" to the almost scatting jazz "Why Do the Nations So Furiously Rage?" it is a true pleasure to bring this out every year.
9) George Winston - December
10) John Denver & The Muppets - A Christmas Together
And now my favorite Christmas album of all time! I love the Muppets, and never more so than on this wonderful compilation of holiday tunes that they sing with the late John Denver. The songs are fun, and clever in their Muppety way, and if you pair this with the soundtrack to "A Muppet Christmas Carol" you're going to have a good time. Miss Piggy makes mayhem on half of the tracks, Dr. Teeth and crew disrupt everyone as much as possible, and Animal growls and shouts over the whole thing, and yet, there are moments of such sweetness, it truly feels like a family Christmas.
I would like to give an honorable mention to the Glee Christmas Album, which I am currently enjoying in all of its cheesiness, but it is too new to know if it is really an instant classic or not. Also, Simone's favorites that didn't make my list are Sarah McLachlan's "Wintersong" and Martina McBride's "White Christmas," which are both quite good. And though the album definitely does not make my list, for a really fun track check out "O Little Town of Bethlehem" from Bob Rivers' "I Am Santa Claus" album. Do you have other favorites? Comment away!
Monday, December 20, 2010
Ruby's Christmas Carol
Ruby loves to sing. Of course, there is a lot of singing in our house anyway, as I am often learning (or supposed to be learning) new music. But Ruby really loves to sing, and I have never seen her as excited about any music as much as Christmas music.
I suppose it started last year, when she started picking up on holiday music that was being played around the house. Of course she was only two, and didn't quite understand what she was singing about. This was never more apparent than when she changed "Holly Jolly Christmas" into a pirate chantey by repeatedly singing the words "Yo Ho, it's Mister Toe, hung where we can see!" A gruesome image to be sure.
This year, she started the season with a delightful mash-up that she continues to sing to this very day. It is to the tune of Jingle Bells, but it goes like this: "Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle all the farm! Old McDonald had a farm, with a one two three and hey now!" She repeats that over and over again until finally someone in the room jumps out of a window.
Then she spent some time with my mother while I was in New York auditioning. While she was there, she learned all of "Away in a Manger," "We Wish You a Merry Christmas," and a song I had never heard called "Does the Baby Need a Blanket to Keep Him Warm?" She learned hand motions and everything! Ok, so she thought the second verse of "Away in a Manger" started out with "The candles are blowing," but I was impressed that she even knew the second verse! Certified genius, I thought to myself.
What I didn't know, was that this was all leading to Ruby's first public performance. My mother told me that Ruby had learned these songs at her church, and the kids were all performing them this past weekend, and wouldn't we like to bring Ruby there so she could sing with the other kids. I asked Ruby if she was interested in doing this, and she said yes, so we all trekked out to the ferry Sunday morning to visit my mother's church. At first I was worried that Ruby had not had as much rehearsal as the other children, but believe me, that was not an issue. Ruby was the star of the show. And by "star of the show" I mean "the loudest one."
When Simone and I sat down in the front row, cameras at the ready, the first thing we noticed was Ruby's name in the bulletin. This was the first time that Ruby's name had ever been printed somewhere on her own merit, so naturally we took a picture of it, and then saved multiple copies of the program to be later embalmed, framed, and/or donated to a museum in the future. The kids all came down the aisle, and we were so excited! Way more excited than the children seemed to be, but that was okay, right?
They started off with the blanket song, and Ruby knew every word and every motion. She seemed to blend very well with the other children. Then she got more comfortable, and by the time they ended with "We Wish You a Merry Christmas" she was singing boisterously above the others, waving, smiling, and clapping as hard as she could. We received many compliments on our way out, so it's nice that people really understood her artistic vision and weren't intimidated by her bold interpretation. And after we left, Ruby decided she wanted to learn all of the words to "The 12 Days of Christmas." Yay!
I suppose it started last year, when she started picking up on holiday music that was being played around the house. Of course she was only two, and didn't quite understand what she was singing about. This was never more apparent than when she changed "Holly Jolly Christmas" into a pirate chantey by repeatedly singing the words "Yo Ho, it's Mister Toe, hung where we can see!" A gruesome image to be sure.
This year, she started the season with a delightful mash-up that she continues to sing to this very day. It is to the tune of Jingle Bells, but it goes like this: "Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle all the farm! Old McDonald had a farm, with a one two three and hey now!" She repeats that over and over again until finally someone in the room jumps out of a window.
Then she spent some time with my mother while I was in New York auditioning. While she was there, she learned all of "Away in a Manger," "We Wish You a Merry Christmas," and a song I had never heard called "Does the Baby Need a Blanket to Keep Him Warm?" She learned hand motions and everything! Ok, so she thought the second verse of "Away in a Manger" started out with "The candles are blowing," but I was impressed that she even knew the second verse! Certified genius, I thought to myself.
What I didn't know, was that this was all leading to Ruby's first public performance. My mother told me that Ruby had learned these songs at her church, and the kids were all performing them this past weekend, and wouldn't we like to bring Ruby there so she could sing with the other kids. I asked Ruby if she was interested in doing this, and she said yes, so we all trekked out to the ferry Sunday morning to visit my mother's church. At first I was worried that Ruby had not had as much rehearsal as the other children, but believe me, that was not an issue. Ruby was the star of the show. And by "star of the show" I mean "the loudest one."
When Simone and I sat down in the front row, cameras at the ready, the first thing we noticed was Ruby's name in the bulletin. This was the first time that Ruby's name had ever been printed somewhere on her own merit, so naturally we took a picture of it, and then saved multiple copies of the program to be later embalmed, framed, and/or donated to a museum in the future. The kids all came down the aisle, and we were so excited! Way more excited than the children seemed to be, but that was okay, right?
They started off with the blanket song, and Ruby knew every word and every motion. She seemed to blend very well with the other children. Then she got more comfortable, and by the time they ended with "We Wish You a Merry Christmas" she was singing boisterously above the others, waving, smiling, and clapping as hard as she could. We received many compliments on our way out, so it's nice that people really understood her artistic vision and weren't intimidated by her bold interpretation. And after we left, Ruby decided she wanted to learn all of the words to "The 12 Days of Christmas." Yay!
Friday, December 17, 2010
Spider-Man: Turn Off the Dark - A Full Review
I have been a fan of Spider-Man for over 25 years. I had a whole bathroom dedicated to him. I have also been a professional singer for some time now. As such, I cannot adequately describe my level of excitement as I prepared to see "Spider-Man: Turn Off the Dark” at the Foxwoods Theater on 42nd Street.
Now let me first say, that I am reviewing this show as someone with much love for the character, and who desperately wants this show to succeed. It is important that you realize this, and how kind I am going to be, in order to understand how bad this show truly is. And now, let the spoilers flow like webs.
Do you want the good news first, or the bad news? The good news? Well, ok, here it is. The stunts are every bit as amazing as you might imagine. The aerial battles over the heads of the audience were breathtaking. At one point, whilst battling the Green Goblin, Spider-Man landed in the aisle, just a few feet from me, before catapulting himself back toward the rafters. All of the stunts were spectacular, and the choreography was superb.
Also, the sets were sensational. Unbelievable, really. The constant shifting and moving parts were seamless, and the forced perspective of the Chrysler Building during a climactic battle was incredible. I also loved the comic booky feel of several parts of the show, notably when Hammerhead and some other gangsters come out and start shooting, or robbing banks, or something. The stylization was really cool. But what were they doing exactly?
The biggest problem with the show was the writing. The whole show was so choppy, and not in a stop and start sort of way, but in a makes no sense, lack of transitions sort of way. It reminded me a lot of the worst parts of Spider-Man 3. That movie felt like it either needed to cut half of it’s story out, or be twice as long. This show felt the same way to me, except at 3 hours it did not need to be twice as long.
So about that writing… Why were all of the characters rhyming, even in normal speech? Did Dr. Seuss write the show? And the story (was there a story?) kept coming out of nowhere, and contradicted itself.
The biggest problem with the show was the story. Let me try to sum it up for you:
A bunch of geeks try to figure out a cool Spider-Man story, which I guess was supposed to be the show that we were watching. Then they talked about Arachne, from Greek mythology, and she sang a bunch of songs that were very pretty. Then Peter Parker got beat up at school and yelled at by Uncle Ben and Mary Jane. Norman Osborn and his wife (his wife?) are trying to save the world from global warming, but are interrupted by a field trip, during which his super spider bites Peter. Peter gets powers and decides not to stop some guy from stealing the bully’s car, and then Uncle Ben runs in front of a picture of a car, yells “Argh!” and falls over on the stage. Then Norman becomes the Green Goblin, kidnaps Mary Jane, and then falls off the Chrysler Building and dies.
INTERMISSION
The geeks continue to argue about the direction of Spider-Man and have him fight more villains, including new villain “Swiss Miss.” This is not a good name for her because A) she does not look Swiss, and B) she looks like a man. She’s made of metal and has a lot of Inspector Gadget type limbs. Why they didn’t call her “Iron Maiden” is beyond me. Anyway, Peter quits being Spider-Man because Mary Jane is mad at him, though it was never made clear that they were together. He throws his costume in the trash. This angers Arachne, who takes over the show from the geeks, and they all run away scared. Arachne plunges the world into a blackout, and then sends her minions to rob all of the shoe stores in New York so she can sing a song about how much she loves to put on her shoes. She tries to get Peter to marry her, but when he won’t, she kidnaps Mary Jane. Now he has to fight Arachne, but he threw away his costume, so he puts on a bunch of stuff (I kid you not) from the theater gift shop, like a Spider-Man t-shirt, and a Spider-Man jacket. I was very surprised that he did not also pick up a Spider-Man mug cozy while he was there. Then, somehow, Peter says he will marry Arachne, which makes her not want to marry him, so she lets Mary Jane go. Then Peter kisses Arachne, somehow releasing her from the curse of being a spider. The end.
Also, I didn’t mention the part where the Green Goblin comes out and plays the piano and sings a lounge number. Actually, he does that twice. It’s too bad that Mrs. Green Goblin had such a small part, because she was the best one in the cast. Actually, most of the people were pretty good, with one glaring exception.
The biggest problem with the show was its star. Reeve Carney (Peter Parker/Spider-Man) can’t sing. I don’t know if he was just trying to sound like Bono, or if he was trying to crack on all his high notes to sound nerdier, or if maybe he was just really sick with pneumonia, but whatever the reason, he sounded terrible on all of his songs. Also not helping Mr. Carney, was the writing of his character. I think maybe because I am a longtime fan, and pre-disposed to like Spider-Man, it took me a long time to notice this, but about halfway through the second half of the show, it hit me. I hated the character of Peter Parker. He was written as a whiny, annoying, incompetent nerd with no social skills and no likable qualities of any kind. Even Aunt May spent the whole show being mean to him, and we all know that Aunt May is a saint! It’s very hard to like a show in which you wish the main character would just die or something.
Finally, I will leave you with my picks for two of the coolest, and two of the most laughable moments from the show. And one of them is the same. Cool Thing #1 – The girls on the swings who became a human loom, weaving with their giant swings. Cool Thing #2/Laughable Thing #1 – When Mary Jane said “Spider-Man can do anything!” and Peter replied, “Well, he can’t star in a Broadway Show!”
And finally, the most laughable thing of the evening: At one point a tiny little Spider-Man flew up through the set, I guess because he was supposed to be far away or something, and all I could think about was the Stonehenge scene from “This is Spinal Tap.” I literally started laughing out loud. “I think that the problem may have been, that there was a Spider-Man on stage that was in danger of being crushed by a dwarf!”
I read today that they are pushing the opening back to February, so that they can rewrite the dialogue, fix the music, and redo the ending of the show. I guess that’s a good start, but I honestly don’t know if they can fix all of the problems without majorly reworking the entire thing. But you know what? I had a really good time at show, problems aside, and I really hope they can fix everything. The stunts alone are worth the price of admission, and Reeve Carney can’t stay in the show forever, right?
Thursday, December 16, 2010
This Just In: New York City Full of Jerks
My auditions are over for the season. I sang my last one this morning. But last night, before my audition, I took Simone into the city to see the Rockettes' Christmas Spectacular at Radio City Music Hall. It has been on her list of things to do for years, so I took her as an early Christmas present. Unfortunately, we were sitting in the jerk section.
For starters, I'm pretty sure that every single person with tickets for seats in front of us came in at least ten minutes late. So we spent the first three or four numbers darting our heads back and forth and craning our necks to see the show through and around our fellow theater goers. Now look, these tickets were not cheap. Do you not care that you just missed 20-25% of the show you paid a ton of money to see? I mean, ok, I get that sometimes people are late, trains are delayed, traffic, etc. But everybody? I am not kidding when I say there was a constant stream of people being seated for about the first twenty minutes of the show.
And don't think that once they were seated, they stayed seated. Oh no, then it was time to stand up and slowly remove their coats, use the restroom, get snacks, and text their friends about how awesome it was to be bothering perfectly nice couples on their holiday dates. Of all the times to have forgotten my slingshot.
But by far the worst of them all, was the family seated directly behind us. Now, as a parent, I can sympathize and even assign cuteness to the fact that your three year old is excited about the show. We have taken Ruby to movies and shows, and she understands the importance of being quiet. Sure, she gets excited and asks where Rapunzel is sometimes, but we answer her question quietly, remind her to be quiet, and if she continues to be loud, we take her out of the theater. I guess that is not standard parenting.
The girl behind us first started screaming "SANTA SANTA SANTA!" when Santa arrived. Ok, that was cute. Then she started yelling "Hi Santa!" That was cute for about 20 seconds. But it did not stop. I turned around and gave them a look, and the mother did tell her to be quiet, but it never stopped. That girl yelled at the stage for the whole show. I gave them so many looks my looker hurt, but to no avail. It's very hard to enjoy anything, much less a stage show, with a three year old shrieking in your ears.
In the end, we had a good time. It was a fun show, there were a lot of legs kicking all over the place, and Simone got to cross something off of her list of life, but really people, can't you stop being jerks for just a few short minutes? No? Ok, fair enough.
For starters, I'm pretty sure that every single person with tickets for seats in front of us came in at least ten minutes late. So we spent the first three or four numbers darting our heads back and forth and craning our necks to see the show through and around our fellow theater goers. Now look, these tickets were not cheap. Do you not care that you just missed 20-25% of the show you paid a ton of money to see? I mean, ok, I get that sometimes people are late, trains are delayed, traffic, etc. But everybody? I am not kidding when I say there was a constant stream of people being seated for about the first twenty minutes of the show.
And don't think that once they were seated, they stayed seated. Oh no, then it was time to stand up and slowly remove their coats, use the restroom, get snacks, and text their friends about how awesome it was to be bothering perfectly nice couples on their holiday dates. Of all the times to have forgotten my slingshot.
But by far the worst of them all, was the family seated directly behind us. Now, as a parent, I can sympathize and even assign cuteness to the fact that your three year old is excited about the show. We have taken Ruby to movies and shows, and she understands the importance of being quiet. Sure, she gets excited and asks where Rapunzel is sometimes, but we answer her question quietly, remind her to be quiet, and if she continues to be loud, we take her out of the theater. I guess that is not standard parenting.
The girl behind us first started screaming "SANTA SANTA SANTA!" when Santa arrived. Ok, that was cute. Then she started yelling "Hi Santa!" That was cute for about 20 seconds. But it did not stop. I turned around and gave them a look, and the mother did tell her to be quiet, but it never stopped. That girl yelled at the stage for the whole show. I gave them so many looks my looker hurt, but to no avail. It's very hard to enjoy anything, much less a stage show, with a three year old shrieking in your ears.
In the end, we had a good time. It was a fun show, there were a lot of legs kicking all over the place, and Simone got to cross something off of her list of life, but really people, can't you stop being jerks for just a few short minutes? No? Ok, fair enough.
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
Concrete Proof That I Am A Better Driver Than You
I have been called a lot of things in my driving life. "Crazy Driver." "Way Too Fast Driver." "Deranged Lunatic." Other things I cannot print in a family blog. You get the point. The point is, my driving is way underrated. For some reason, people think that driving fast is bad, when it is clearly good. I will now prove it to you.
First of all, name me some sort of test of skill in which being faster is bad. You can't. In almost any arena, when you are able to do something as skillfully as someone else, the true test of skill boils down to speed. Therefore, faster is always better in terms of who is better at something than someone else. If I can safely navigate my car along a course faster than you, I am better at it. Sorry.
Now wait a minute, what about speed limits you ask? Speed limits are for suckers. Ok, not all speed limits. I would not drive 50 mph through a school zone, but let me give you a little history lesson on highway speed limits in the United States of America. Pre-1973 highway speed limits were all over the place, but most of them were set at 70 mph, some at 75, some at 65, among other speeds. Then, in 1973, the US government decided that, due to the fuel shortage and the efficiency of vehicles at the time, all speed limits on state highways should be 55. Then guess what happened! The fuel crisis ended, the fuel efficiency of vehicles changed, but the laws did not. There is literally no reason to drive 55 on any highway, other than so that the states can make money by giving you speeding tickets. And if the government really cared about fuel efficiency, they would require cars to be more fuel efficient. The average fuel economy of a car sold in America is 24 mpg. The EU is requiring their cars to get 47 mpg starting in 2012. It is possible, unless you listen to the automobile lobbyists.
So driving 55 mph isn't really the sign of a good driver, it's the sign of a law abiding citizen, which is different. Now there is a safety issue, as you have less of a reaction time the faster you drive, but this is easily mitigated by leaving a larger distance between you and the car in front of you. And I suppose if you do crash at 75, it would do more damage than if you crashed at 55 of 65, but honestly, crashing at 55 is going to do some major damage. If that is your concern, just make all the speed limits 30 mph. My point is, that there is a give and take between freedom and security, and I vote for freedom almost every time.
So in conclusion, the best drivers out there are the drivers who drive as fast as possible without regard for meaningless speed limits. I would like to clarify, however, that only the best drivers (like me) can accomplish this in a safe manner. If you do not use your turn signals, you are not a good driver. If you run red lights and stop signs, you are not a good driver. If you drive under the influence of alcohol, drugs, or techno music, you are not a good driver. If you cut people off or tailgate them at high speeds (tailgating at low speeds is acceptable if they are being annoying), you are not a good driver. BUT, if you can successfully navigate your way through the traffic and roadways of our great nation without hitting anything or anyone, and you can do it faster than anyone else, than you are one of the best, and almost as good of a driver as me.
First of all, name me some sort of test of skill in which being faster is bad. You can't. In almost any arena, when you are able to do something as skillfully as someone else, the true test of skill boils down to speed. Therefore, faster is always better in terms of who is better at something than someone else. If I can safely navigate my car along a course faster than you, I am better at it. Sorry.
Now wait a minute, what about speed limits you ask? Speed limits are for suckers. Ok, not all speed limits. I would not drive 50 mph through a school zone, but let me give you a little history lesson on highway speed limits in the United States of America. Pre-1973 highway speed limits were all over the place, but most of them were set at 70 mph, some at 75, some at 65, among other speeds. Then, in 1973, the US government decided that, due to the fuel shortage and the efficiency of vehicles at the time, all speed limits on state highways should be 55. Then guess what happened! The fuel crisis ended, the fuel efficiency of vehicles changed, but the laws did not. There is literally no reason to drive 55 on any highway, other than so that the states can make money by giving you speeding tickets. And if the government really cared about fuel efficiency, they would require cars to be more fuel efficient. The average fuel economy of a car sold in America is 24 mpg. The EU is requiring their cars to get 47 mpg starting in 2012. It is possible, unless you listen to the automobile lobbyists.
So driving 55 mph isn't really the sign of a good driver, it's the sign of a law abiding citizen, which is different. Now there is a safety issue, as you have less of a reaction time the faster you drive, but this is easily mitigated by leaving a larger distance between you and the car in front of you. And I suppose if you do crash at 75, it would do more damage than if you crashed at 55 of 65, but honestly, crashing at 55 is going to do some major damage. If that is your concern, just make all the speed limits 30 mph. My point is, that there is a give and take between freedom and security, and I vote for freedom almost every time.
So in conclusion, the best drivers out there are the drivers who drive as fast as possible without regard for meaningless speed limits. I would like to clarify, however, that only the best drivers (like me) can accomplish this in a safe manner. If you do not use your turn signals, you are not a good driver. If you run red lights and stop signs, you are not a good driver. If you drive under the influence of alcohol, drugs, or techno music, you are not a good driver. If you cut people off or tailgate them at high speeds (tailgating at low speeds is acceptable if they are being annoying), you are not a good driver. BUT, if you can successfully navigate your way through the traffic and roadways of our great nation without hitting anything or anyone, and you can do it faster than anyone else, than you are one of the best, and almost as good of a driver as me.
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
Is "I Love You Phillip Morris" a Good Movie for 3 Year Olds?
As the parent of two small children, I don't get out to the movies nearly as much as I used to. If you have kids, then you know you have to choose your movies carefully, because you don't want to waste your one free evening of the month on a stinker. Last month I had the good fortune to see "Tangled" with my family, but, even though she loved it, it kind of freaked my three year old out. This month I was lucky enough to see the new film "I Love You Phillip Morris" starring Jim Carrey and Ewan McGregor. I have to say, it was almost as good as "Tangled," but is it the kind of movie your whole family can enjoy? Let's find out (general non-specific spoilers ahead).
1) Is it Scary?
No, I would say in the scary department, the scariest thing that happens is a mild police chase. Nothing any scarier than "Beauty and the Beast." Definitely take your young children to see this movie.
2) Is it Violent?
Not really. One guy gets beat up in prison, but it's not too graphic. You can probably see more violence in "The Lion King." So far, this is a great movie for three year olds.
3) Does it Contain Adult Themes?
Ok, I have to say that the finer points of embezzlement, fraud, and the legal system may be over the heads of your toddler. That being said, there are a lot of fun clouds to look at and exciting music as well, so I think this one is a toss up.
4) Does it Contain Countless Scenes of Graphic Gay and Straight Sex?
Yes.
So it looks like the votes come down to 2.5 yes, and 1.5 no, on whether or not to take your toddler to see this very fine R rated film. As a parent, you will have to make the decision yourself, but honestly, I feel like my children would be less scarred by this movie than all those poor three year olds I saw at Harry Potter last month. Just saying.
1) Is it Scary?
No, I would say in the scary department, the scariest thing that happens is a mild police chase. Nothing any scarier than "Beauty and the Beast." Definitely take your young children to see this movie.
2) Is it Violent?
Not really. One guy gets beat up in prison, but it's not too graphic. You can probably see more violence in "The Lion King." So far, this is a great movie for three year olds.
3) Does it Contain Adult Themes?
Ok, I have to say that the finer points of embezzlement, fraud, and the legal system may be over the heads of your toddler. That being said, there are a lot of fun clouds to look at and exciting music as well, so I think this one is a toss up.
4) Does it Contain Countless Scenes of Graphic Gay and Straight Sex?
Yes.
So it looks like the votes come down to 2.5 yes, and 1.5 no, on whether or not to take your toddler to see this very fine R rated film. As a parent, you will have to make the decision yourself, but honestly, I feel like my children would be less scarred by this movie than all those poor three year olds I saw at Harry Potter last month. Just saying.
Monday, December 13, 2010
HomeSick
Lately I have been thinking a lot about the concept of home. It is a strange issue for me, because I moved around a lot growing up. By the time I was 15 I had lived in 13 different houses, so for me home wasn't always about a place. Unfortunately, home became my stuff, and, though I don't live like those people on "Hoarders," I definitely have collected more stuff than I could ever need, use, or even really want. Luckily I have realized this, and have been on a major stuff purge ever since we decided to move to Vermont.
But if a house is not a home, and the things in your house are not a home, then what is a home? Maybe the people in your house are what makes it a home. That is certainly true to an extent, but it doesn't cover it fully. As the cheesy Christmas song I sang in high school chorus told me, "Home is a Special Kind of Feeling." It's funny what can and cannot give you that feeling.
For the past four days I have been driving back and forth, singing concerts in the DC and Baltimore area. I had lived in that area for 14 years before moving to Vermont a few months ago. When I drove up to a rehearsal through Silver Spring on Thursday, right past my old apartment building and all the places I used to go, it did not feel like home to me. I'd been in Baltimore for four years, and though Silver Spring was a familiar place, it did not feel like home. Which is funny, because after moving to Baltimore, whenever I would drive through that same old neighborhood, I would feel a twinge of homesickness and recognize it as "home."
I don't know when exactly it switched over, but as I drove through Baltimore to my old house, I got that same funny feeling again that I used to get from Silver Spring. Like I was home.
Even though we had moved out months ago, no one had been into our old house, as evidenced by the restaurant fliers piled up against the door and the mail lying in the entryway, just under the mail slot. My key still worked, and I walked inside our empty house, which looked just as it did when we had left it. I was filled with two overwhelming and conflicting desires. One was to run back to the car, drive away, and never look back, as it was just too sad to be there. The other impulse I had was to just lie down on the floor and stay there for the rest of the weekend, soaking in the feeling that I was finally home.
In the end, I did neither of those things. I did what I had gone there to do, which was to retrieve our butter dish that we had accidentally left in the fridge the day we moved, and to pick up a small table that we had left behind due to a lack of space in the moving truck. I walked slowly through every room of the house, the house that I had lived in longer than any other house in my life, and felt such sadness about the fact that I didn't know where my home was. Home is where the heart is, right? But my heart is in so many places, and with so many people.
I left Baltimore and went back to DC, which also had lost a lot of its "home-ness." Riding the metro, I realized that I already felt more at home on the New York subway than I did on the DC trains. But I had lived in DC and ridden the metro trains every day for ten years! I had only stayed in New York for two months! Is home a function of time? Is home just where you have been most recently? That can't be it either. South Burlington, VT feels like home to me. It's the town I did most of my growing up in, but I haven't lived there for a decade and a half. I don't think it will ever stop feeling like a place that I truly belong.
Sunday morning I went back to my old church and sang with the choir again. We sang a beautiful concert in the afternoon, and every minute there felt like home. At the same time, all I could think about that evening was my family back in Vermont, and how much I missed being home with them.
Maybe I'm just thinking about all of this because I miss my family and I'm tired of being away from them. Maybe I just miss Baltimore, and living in a state that has a Target. Maybe it just feels like life is moving too far, too fast, and it's hard to keep up. I'm not sure. But I think, in the end, that home is not something you find, but something that you make. It's partly the house, partly the town, partly the stuff, and partly the people, and it's our job to put those pieces together in the way that makes us the happiest. I'll keep working on it.
But if a house is not a home, and the things in your house are not a home, then what is a home? Maybe the people in your house are what makes it a home. That is certainly true to an extent, but it doesn't cover it fully. As the cheesy Christmas song I sang in high school chorus told me, "Home is a Special Kind of Feeling." It's funny what can and cannot give you that feeling.
For the past four days I have been driving back and forth, singing concerts in the DC and Baltimore area. I had lived in that area for 14 years before moving to Vermont a few months ago. When I drove up to a rehearsal through Silver Spring on Thursday, right past my old apartment building and all the places I used to go, it did not feel like home to me. I'd been in Baltimore for four years, and though Silver Spring was a familiar place, it did not feel like home. Which is funny, because after moving to Baltimore, whenever I would drive through that same old neighborhood, I would feel a twinge of homesickness and recognize it as "home."
I don't know when exactly it switched over, but as I drove through Baltimore to my old house, I got that same funny feeling again that I used to get from Silver Spring. Like I was home.
Even though we had moved out months ago, no one had been into our old house, as evidenced by the restaurant fliers piled up against the door and the mail lying in the entryway, just under the mail slot. My key still worked, and I walked inside our empty house, which looked just as it did when we had left it. I was filled with two overwhelming and conflicting desires. One was to run back to the car, drive away, and never look back, as it was just too sad to be there. The other impulse I had was to just lie down on the floor and stay there for the rest of the weekend, soaking in the feeling that I was finally home.
In the end, I did neither of those things. I did what I had gone there to do, which was to retrieve our butter dish that we had accidentally left in the fridge the day we moved, and to pick up a small table that we had left behind due to a lack of space in the moving truck. I walked slowly through every room of the house, the house that I had lived in longer than any other house in my life, and felt such sadness about the fact that I didn't know where my home was. Home is where the heart is, right? But my heart is in so many places, and with so many people.
I left Baltimore and went back to DC, which also had lost a lot of its "home-ness." Riding the metro, I realized that I already felt more at home on the New York subway than I did on the DC trains. But I had lived in DC and ridden the metro trains every day for ten years! I had only stayed in New York for two months! Is home a function of time? Is home just where you have been most recently? That can't be it either. South Burlington, VT feels like home to me. It's the town I did most of my growing up in, but I haven't lived there for a decade and a half. I don't think it will ever stop feeling like a place that I truly belong.
Sunday morning I went back to my old church and sang with the choir again. We sang a beautiful concert in the afternoon, and every minute there felt like home. At the same time, all I could think about that evening was my family back in Vermont, and how much I missed being home with them.
Maybe I'm just thinking about all of this because I miss my family and I'm tired of being away from them. Maybe I just miss Baltimore, and living in a state that has a Target. Maybe it just feels like life is moving too far, too fast, and it's hard to keep up. I'm not sure. But I think, in the end, that home is not something you find, but something that you make. It's partly the house, partly the town, partly the stuff, and partly the people, and it's our job to put those pieces together in the way that makes us the happiest. I'll keep working on it.
Friday, December 10, 2010
Indian Call Center Guy
While I am in the DC/Baltimore area I am staying with my friend Preethy. She is an American, although both of her parents are originally from India. These facts, and many more, were the subject of intense interest to the man on the other end of the Comcast tech support call.
The problem was, I wanted to use her internet connection. My laptop kept telling me that the network key was wrong, or that there was signal interference, or just basically that it was not going to connect. Preethy, being the extremely gracious hostess that she is, decided to call Comcast to see if they could assist me. If you were at MY house and you could not get on my internet for some reason, I would tell you "Ha ha ha, oh well," so you can see that Preethy is much nicer than I am.
So she called Comcast and asked for technical support. This, of course, sent the call to India, where a very friendly gentleman answered and expressed his deep sympathy and sorrow in regards to our computing problems. The first thing he did was ask for the name of the person he was speaking to. This was Preethy's first mistake, because she said "Preethy" instead of "Sallie Mae" or "Betsy."
"Ooh, can I call you by your first name for the remainder of this call?" he asked, with a hint of schoolboy wonder in his voice. Preethy said that would be ok, and then he actually asked a few questions about the internet connection, like was it working or not, and if not, why not? When we told him it just said "error" he put us on hold to go speak to his supervisor. When he came back, he asked us to go to the site with the connection properties on it, so we could confirm we had the correct passkey and whatnot.
The site was taking a long time to load, so for a minute or two there was silence on the phone. Then, out of nowhere, we heard "So, what are you doing?" Thank goodness Preethy had put it on speaker phone or her husband Bob and I would have missed all the awkward hilarity that was to follow.
"I'm just doing what you told me to do. Waiting for the page to load," Preethy responded, misunderstanding what he was really asking.
"No, what are you doing tonight? Do you have any big plans for Christmas holidays?" he asked.
"Ummmm, what?" said Preethy.
"So are you from another country?" he continued. "I mean, I know you are American, but are you also from somewhere else?"
Preethy sighed, and told him what he wanted to know. She explained that her parents were from India, and of course he wanted to know what part, and OMG, he was in that very part RIGHT NOW! And then Preethy made the fatal error of telling him that she was going to be visiting India in January. Meanwhile, I was still not on the internet.
I forget what they were talking about at the point that Bob took the phone and told the guy that we did not need his help anymore. The page never loaded, and my laptop is still not on the internet. Although I guess if I need more help I can always call that guy back in India, because he gave us a special number to reach him at if we need anything else, anything else at all. My final review of Comcast Tech Support is: Effectiveness - F, Extra Friendliness - A+
The problem was, I wanted to use her internet connection. My laptop kept telling me that the network key was wrong, or that there was signal interference, or just basically that it was not going to connect. Preethy, being the extremely gracious hostess that she is, decided to call Comcast to see if they could assist me. If you were at MY house and you could not get on my internet for some reason, I would tell you "Ha ha ha, oh well," so you can see that Preethy is much nicer than I am.
So she called Comcast and asked for technical support. This, of course, sent the call to India, where a very friendly gentleman answered and expressed his deep sympathy and sorrow in regards to our computing problems. The first thing he did was ask for the name of the person he was speaking to. This was Preethy's first mistake, because she said "Preethy" instead of "Sallie Mae" or "Betsy."
"Ooh, can I call you by your first name for the remainder of this call?" he asked, with a hint of schoolboy wonder in his voice. Preethy said that would be ok, and then he actually asked a few questions about the internet connection, like was it working or not, and if not, why not? When we told him it just said "error" he put us on hold to go speak to his supervisor. When he came back, he asked us to go to the site with the connection properties on it, so we could confirm we had the correct passkey and whatnot.
The site was taking a long time to load, so for a minute or two there was silence on the phone. Then, out of nowhere, we heard "So, what are you doing?" Thank goodness Preethy had put it on speaker phone or her husband Bob and I would have missed all the awkward hilarity that was to follow.
"I'm just doing what you told me to do. Waiting for the page to load," Preethy responded, misunderstanding what he was really asking.
"No, what are you doing tonight? Do you have any big plans for Christmas holidays?" he asked.
"Ummmm, what?" said Preethy.
"So are you from another country?" he continued. "I mean, I know you are American, but are you also from somewhere else?"
Preethy sighed, and told him what he wanted to know. She explained that her parents were from India, and of course he wanted to know what part, and OMG, he was in that very part RIGHT NOW! And then Preethy made the fatal error of telling him that she was going to be visiting India in January. Meanwhile, I was still not on the internet.
I forget what they were talking about at the point that Bob took the phone and told the guy that we did not need his help anymore. The page never loaded, and my laptop is still not on the internet. Although I guess if I need more help I can always call that guy back in India, because he gave us a special number to reach him at if we need anything else, anything else at all. My final review of Comcast Tech Support is: Effectiveness - F, Extra Friendliness - A+
Thursday, December 9, 2010
I Can't Turn Off My Car
Another week, another audition trip to the big apple. But this time I was also heading to Baltimore to sing some concerts afterward, so I needed to drive. That meant I needed a car. Now, we have two cars, but neither of them particularly work very well. One of them is full of dents, shakes like a mother if you take it above 35 mph, and the headlights don't work. That's the good one. That's the one I had to leave for Simone to use while I was away. The other one didn't work at all.
It worked once upon a time, but ever since we moved and towed it up to Vermont, it just hasn't started. I figured probably the battery was dead, so I jumped it with the other car, and it started right up. I let it run for about 15 minutes and then turned it off. Dead. Wouldn't start. I jumped it again and decided to drive it around a bit to really charge up the battery. I took it out and drove it to the store. When I turned it off, once again it just wouldn't start again. Luckily I have a portable battery jumper, so I used that to start the car again.
This time, when I was driving home, every 20 seconds or so all the lights would dim, the needles would all start to fall on the gauges, and the car would sputter, and then everything would kick back in. This was not good, but I didn't really know what to do about it, so I ignored it. That brought me to the morning I was supposed to drive to New York. I was packing up the car, wondering if I would make it, when out of the blue, my brother-in-law the mechanic called and said he was half a mile down the road from us (he lives and hour away) and did our cars need fixing? Thank you God.
He checked everything out. The alternator was fine, the battery was charging, the fuses looked good, but every time we jumped the car and then turned it off, it would totally die. Wouldn't even turn over without being jumped again. I didn't really have a choice at this point, as I was late already, so I thanked him for his time, re-jumped the car, and headed off in the car. All I had to do, I realized, was get to New York without ever turning off the engine.
My first stop was the dry cleaners to pick up my audition suit. I had a spare car key in my wallet, so I left the car running, locked the doors, ran in, grabbed my clothes, and got back with no problems. I was filled with hope that I might actually pull this off. I drove for another hour, stopped to get a snack at McDonalds, and once again locked the running car and I dashed in and out. Ha, I thought to myself, turning off the car is for suckers! I am saving so much time by not ever having to turn the key or start the engine!
One large Coke and two hours later I suddenly needed a pit stop. It was around this time that I realized the car was almost out of gas. Uh oh. I started wondering if the car really would blow up if I left it running as I filled the tank with highly explosive gasoline. I pulled up to the pump, still debating my next move, when I had a thought. During all of my testing earlier, the car had only died when I had turned everything off and removed the key, not when I cut the engine out. I sprung into action, turning on the headlights, the radio, the wipers, and anything else I could find. I turned the engine off and filled the gas tank. When I got back in, the car started just fine. Success! I am a genius!
I drove the rest of the way to New York without incident, and once again had the best audition of my life, even better than the LAST best audition of my life. When I got in the car, almost 24 hours after having turned it off, it once again started like a dream, with no problems. I have two theories on this. One, perhaps the battery was so low it required a very long drive to really get it charged again. Two, perhaps I am magic and I fix cars just by sitting in them. There might be a third option as well, but I haven't thought of it. Regardless, the car has been working fine ever since, so fingers crossed and knock on wood! I still have to drive it back to Vermont!
It worked once upon a time, but ever since we moved and towed it up to Vermont, it just hasn't started. I figured probably the battery was dead, so I jumped it with the other car, and it started right up. I let it run for about 15 minutes and then turned it off. Dead. Wouldn't start. I jumped it again and decided to drive it around a bit to really charge up the battery. I took it out and drove it to the store. When I turned it off, once again it just wouldn't start again. Luckily I have a portable battery jumper, so I used that to start the car again.
This time, when I was driving home, every 20 seconds or so all the lights would dim, the needles would all start to fall on the gauges, and the car would sputter, and then everything would kick back in. This was not good, but I didn't really know what to do about it, so I ignored it. That brought me to the morning I was supposed to drive to New York. I was packing up the car, wondering if I would make it, when out of the blue, my brother-in-law the mechanic called and said he was half a mile down the road from us (he lives and hour away) and did our cars need fixing? Thank you God.
He checked everything out. The alternator was fine, the battery was charging, the fuses looked good, but every time we jumped the car and then turned it off, it would totally die. Wouldn't even turn over without being jumped again. I didn't really have a choice at this point, as I was late already, so I thanked him for his time, re-jumped the car, and headed off in the car. All I had to do, I realized, was get to New York without ever turning off the engine.
My first stop was the dry cleaners to pick up my audition suit. I had a spare car key in my wallet, so I left the car running, locked the doors, ran in, grabbed my clothes, and got back with no problems. I was filled with hope that I might actually pull this off. I drove for another hour, stopped to get a snack at McDonalds, and once again locked the running car and I dashed in and out. Ha, I thought to myself, turning off the car is for suckers! I am saving so much time by not ever having to turn the key or start the engine!
One large Coke and two hours later I suddenly needed a pit stop. It was around this time that I realized the car was almost out of gas. Uh oh. I started wondering if the car really would blow up if I left it running as I filled the tank with highly explosive gasoline. I pulled up to the pump, still debating my next move, when I had a thought. During all of my testing earlier, the car had only died when I had turned everything off and removed the key, not when I cut the engine out. I sprung into action, turning on the headlights, the radio, the wipers, and anything else I could find. I turned the engine off and filled the gas tank. When I got back in, the car started just fine. Success! I am a genius!
I drove the rest of the way to New York without incident, and once again had the best audition of my life, even better than the LAST best audition of my life. When I got in the car, almost 24 hours after having turned it off, it once again started like a dream, with no problems. I have two theories on this. One, perhaps the battery was so low it required a very long drive to really get it charged again. Two, perhaps I am magic and I fix cars just by sitting in them. There might be a third option as well, but I haven't thought of it. Regardless, the car has been working fine ever since, so fingers crossed and knock on wood! I still have to drive it back to Vermont!
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
First Day of Preschool
There are many things that one might feel on the day that one's child goes to school for the first time. I thought perhaps I would feel old, but I didn't. There was always the possibility that I would feel sadness and loss, but that certainly was not the case. No, what I mostly felt was relief. Well, that and overwhelming joy. Simone and I were about to have three full hours to ourselves! And it was right during Edward's nap time! And it was happening twice a week! I still am not sure which family member was most excited about this new life development.
Ruby was excited for sure. She had already been planning what she wanted to take to school in her backpack. She wanted to take toys. Only toys and lots of toys. This was clearly a problem. Also, she does not have a backpack. We finally settled on a red canvas bag to pack for her and, after explaining the school's policy on not bringing any toys there, agreed that she could bring her stuffed fox. They do allow stuffed animals or blankets if the kids need them, so this seemed like a good compromise.
When we got to school, Ruby ran right in and took her coat off, ready for fun. The teacher asked if she wanted to come wave to us out the window as we left, but Ruby had already heard rumors of clay being played with and was not interested in watching her boring old parents pull out of the driveway. This was fine with us, as Simone and I were anxious to begin our new lives as normal human beings.
It was a wonderful morning for everyone. Simone and I went to the store for cat food. We filled out paperwork. We surfed the internet. Simone watched the video of the tree falling on me about 45 times. And all of it was uninterrupted. Edward slept peacefully in the other room and the house was actually quiet. Actually it was a little too quiet. Weird.
By the time 11:30 came around I was getting pretty excited to pick Ruby up and find out how her first day had gone. As I pulled up to the school, a woman told me that her son and my daughter were now best friends. How this woman knew who I was I have no idea. I guess I'm probably just the "new guy" at school, but it was still odd. I found Ruby on the playground swinging. She seemed happy to see me, although not too happy. Weird.
Her teacher told me that Ruby had had a great time, and was the best one at getting her snowsuit on. Apparently Ruby had gotten hers on first and then helped other kids with theirs. That made me a proud papa. I asked Ruby what she had done at school, and she told me she didn't remember. I mentioned the clay, and she said, "Oh yeah, I played with clay." And anything else? "Ummmm, I don't remember." I asked about her new best friend and she told me that her favorite kid to play with was named Gunnar. Whether or not that was the same kid whose mother I had spoken to earlier, I don't know. Weird.
Overall, I think it will take some getting used to for everyone except for Ruby, but it feel like a good step forward for the family. Ruby didn't seem to remember much about school, but she seemed to have enjoyed it very much. And Mommy and Daddy enjoyed it very much as well.
Ruby was excited for sure. She had already been planning what she wanted to take to school in her backpack. She wanted to take toys. Only toys and lots of toys. This was clearly a problem. Also, she does not have a backpack. We finally settled on a red canvas bag to pack for her and, after explaining the school's policy on not bringing any toys there, agreed that she could bring her stuffed fox. They do allow stuffed animals or blankets if the kids need them, so this seemed like a good compromise.
When we got to school, Ruby ran right in and took her coat off, ready for fun. The teacher asked if she wanted to come wave to us out the window as we left, but Ruby had already heard rumors of clay being played with and was not interested in watching her boring old parents pull out of the driveway. This was fine with us, as Simone and I were anxious to begin our new lives as normal human beings.
It was a wonderful morning for everyone. Simone and I went to the store for cat food. We filled out paperwork. We surfed the internet. Simone watched the video of the tree falling on me about 45 times. And all of it was uninterrupted. Edward slept peacefully in the other room and the house was actually quiet. Actually it was a little too quiet. Weird.
By the time 11:30 came around I was getting pretty excited to pick Ruby up and find out how her first day had gone. As I pulled up to the school, a woman told me that her son and my daughter were now best friends. How this woman knew who I was I have no idea. I guess I'm probably just the "new guy" at school, but it was still odd. I found Ruby on the playground swinging. She seemed happy to see me, although not too happy. Weird.
Her teacher told me that Ruby had had a great time, and was the best one at getting her snowsuit on. Apparently Ruby had gotten hers on first and then helped other kids with theirs. That made me a proud papa. I asked Ruby what she had done at school, and she told me she didn't remember. I mentioned the clay, and she said, "Oh yeah, I played with clay." And anything else? "Ummmm, I don't remember." I asked about her new best friend and she told me that her favorite kid to play with was named Gunnar. Whether or not that was the same kid whose mother I had spoken to earlier, I don't know. Weird.
Overall, I think it will take some getting used to for everyone except for Ruby, but it feel like a good step forward for the family. Ruby didn't seem to remember much about school, but she seemed to have enjoyed it very much. And Mommy and Daddy enjoyed it very much as well.
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
How the Tree Fell on Me, and Other Stories
I am not in my right mind. This was confirmed to me by my wife as we drove through the pounding snow, on our way to cut down our own Christmas tree. I woke up in the morning, looked out the window, saw the snow coming down, and said "Hey, it looks Christmasy out today. I can't think of better weather in which to drive down small icy back roads and then hike through a forest of trees in an attempt to hack down a tree!"
When I was growing up in Vermont, we often would cut down our own Christmas trees. In fact, one year my mother stole our Christmas tree, by chopping it down from some guy's farm, and then driving home with it when she couldn't find anyone to pay. Nothing fills you with holiday spirit quite like unwrapping gifts from underneath a stolen tree. But in Baltimore there are fewer tree farms, so every year we just bought a tree from the lot down the street and that was that. Now that we are back in Vermont, I wanted to create in my children the same lasting memories of parental insanity that my mother created for me growing up. So we got into our snow outfits and headed out to find a tree.
I had looked up a few places online and chosen the farm based on the three factors of: distance from us, lowest tree price, and business hours that coincided with when I wanted to go. The snow was not so bad when we started out, but it got worse and worse as we got closer to the farm. When we finally did reach the place, after almost skidding off the road half a dozen times, a big "CLOSED" sign met us at the gate. So I did what any reasonable person would do in this situation, I went online and found the next closest place and drove there.
My wife insists that I point out to you all that we passed at least 4,000 different tree lots selling perfectly lovely fresh cut trees at very reasonable prices. But you can't put a price tag on a memory! We actually called ahead this time and confirmed that they were open. When we arrived, the snow was getting pretty deep. It was already over my sneakers and still coming down hard. Why, you ask, was I wearing sneakers to trek out in the snow to chop down a tree? I refer you to the first sentence of this blog, which will explain a great many things.
The farm was actually awesome. They gave us a saw, and they gave us a sled to pull either children or trees in, whichever was giving us more grief at the time. There were loads of trees right there for us to choose from, so not much hiking was needed. We decided that the first row of trees was looking very attractive, so we found one of proper height and fullness, and I set about chopping it down.
I had thought that it would be pretty easy. Just take the saw, and cut the tree down, right? But what I hadn't counted on was how I was going to reach the base of the trunk with the saw. There were more than a couple of inches of snow on the ground, and I was not dressed properly at all. I couldn't even really see the trunk of the tree through the snow, so I decided the best thing to do was to lie down on the sled and saw from there. Unfortunately, the sled did not provide a lot of traction in the snow, so I basically sawed myself back and forth, and was not getting much tree done. Actually, I couldn't really see at all how much I was sawing, plus my pants were filling up with snow. That's why I didn't notice that I had cut all the way through the tree, which is when it fell on me. Luckily, Simone caught the whole thing on video for your viewing pleasure.
Once I managed to get up from under the tree, (You'll note that Simone just laughed hysterically and did not try to help me. In her defense, she was holding the baby.) we put it on the sled and took it back to the main building where they put it in the snow-shaker-offer machine and the net-putter-onner machine, and then the very friendly gentleman tied it to our roof. They gave us free hot chocolate and candy canes, and finally we drove home at a consistent 14 mph on roads that were rapidly deteriorating.
Was it worth it? Definitely. Will Ruby remember this day fondly? She sure will. She can't stop talking about how the guy let her push the buttons on the machines. And if she doesn't remember the actual fact that we cut down our own tree, instead of buying one from a lot, well, we have the video.
When I was growing up in Vermont, we often would cut down our own Christmas trees. In fact, one year my mother stole our Christmas tree, by chopping it down from some guy's farm, and then driving home with it when she couldn't find anyone to pay. Nothing fills you with holiday spirit quite like unwrapping gifts from underneath a stolen tree. But in Baltimore there are fewer tree farms, so every year we just bought a tree from the lot down the street and that was that. Now that we are back in Vermont, I wanted to create in my children the same lasting memories of parental insanity that my mother created for me growing up. So we got into our snow outfits and headed out to find a tree.
I had looked up a few places online and chosen the farm based on the three factors of: distance from us, lowest tree price, and business hours that coincided with when I wanted to go. The snow was not so bad when we started out, but it got worse and worse as we got closer to the farm. When we finally did reach the place, after almost skidding off the road half a dozen times, a big "CLOSED" sign met us at the gate. So I did what any reasonable person would do in this situation, I went online and found the next closest place and drove there.
My wife insists that I point out to you all that we passed at least 4,000 different tree lots selling perfectly lovely fresh cut trees at very reasonable prices. But you can't put a price tag on a memory! We actually called ahead this time and confirmed that they were open. When we arrived, the snow was getting pretty deep. It was already over my sneakers and still coming down hard. Why, you ask, was I wearing sneakers to trek out in the snow to chop down a tree? I refer you to the first sentence of this blog, which will explain a great many things.
The farm was actually awesome. They gave us a saw, and they gave us a sled to pull either children or trees in, whichever was giving us more grief at the time. There were loads of trees right there for us to choose from, so not much hiking was needed. We decided that the first row of trees was looking very attractive, so we found one of proper height and fullness, and I set about chopping it down.
I had thought that it would be pretty easy. Just take the saw, and cut the tree down, right? But what I hadn't counted on was how I was going to reach the base of the trunk with the saw. There were more than a couple of inches of snow on the ground, and I was not dressed properly at all. I couldn't even really see the trunk of the tree through the snow, so I decided the best thing to do was to lie down on the sled and saw from there. Unfortunately, the sled did not provide a lot of traction in the snow, so I basically sawed myself back and forth, and was not getting much tree done. Actually, I couldn't really see at all how much I was sawing, plus my pants were filling up with snow. That's why I didn't notice that I had cut all the way through the tree, which is when it fell on me. Luckily, Simone caught the whole thing on video for your viewing pleasure.
Once I managed to get up from under the tree, (You'll note that Simone just laughed hysterically and did not try to help me. In her defense, she was holding the baby.) we put it on the sled and took it back to the main building where they put it in the snow-shaker-offer machine and the net-putter-onner machine, and then the very friendly gentleman tied it to our roof. They gave us free hot chocolate and candy canes, and finally we drove home at a consistent 14 mph on roads that were rapidly deteriorating.
Was it worth it? Definitely. Will Ruby remember this day fondly? She sure will. She can't stop talking about how the guy let her push the buttons on the machines. And if she doesn't remember the actual fact that we cut down our own tree, instead of buying one from a lot, well, we have the video.
Monday, December 6, 2010
Double Santa
We were supposed to see Santa at the Christmas parade on Saturday, but everyone was sick. Luckily, the fat man was hanging around an extra day at the Festival of Trees, so we were able to go on Sunday. Ruby was very concerned with telling Santa what she wants for Christmas.
One of the adjustments of moving to a smaller town, is that...everything is smaller. We went to the Festival of Trees in Baltimore last year, and it kind of made this one look like a Festival of Tree. But it was a lot of fun and we met a lot of friendly people. When we first arrived, there were two sparkly purple fairies hopping about, having their pictures taken with children. Ruby would not go near the fairies. This was worrisome, as it made me wonder if she would also be scared of Santa. I finally convinced Ruby that maybe we could go ask the fairies where Santa was, but sadly theses were not the talking kind of fairies. They just jingled their head-bells and grinned maniacally, so Ruby was even more freaked out.
We discovered, via asking a normal human, that Santa was down the street at the craft fair, so we headed over. When we arrived, there was Santa, handing out candy canes and talking to children. This was when Ruby started crying. Not, as it turns out, because she was afraid of Santa, but because she couldn't remember everything she wanted for Christmas, and was sure to leave something out. "We should have made a list!" she wailed loudly in the middle of the craft fair.
She finally agreed to go over there, provided we made a longer list later and mailed it to him, and we rehearsed the two things she could remember to tell him: Toy Story 3 toys and a blue watch. I don't know if she actually said anything to him when she got over there. She seemed to just stand there in shock and horror, but she got a candy cane, and seemed happy to have seen him. I asked her what Santa said to her, and she told me he had asked her if she wanted an American Girl doll. Thanks a lot Santa. Now Ruby wants an American Girl Doll. I WAS DONE SHOPPING!
We had to leave the event to get across the lake where we were attending a holiday pot luck dinner at my mother's church. The pots were not lucky. I am not kidding when I tell you that half of the dishes were scalloped potatoes, and the other half were "vegetable" dishes containing either jello, or marshmallow, or, in one case, both. The dinner was going fine. Some middle school band was playing religious music and we were getting ready for dessert, when my worst nightmare happened.
There we were, having a perfectly fine time, when what to my wondering eyes should appear, but Santa Claus! ANOTHER Santa Claus. I was not prepared for this. I know that during any given holiday season one is likely to run into several different versions of old Saint Nick, but not on the same DAY! Not hours apart from each other! I was wracking my brain, trying to think of ways to explain Santa's sudden growth spurt and louder voice, when they invited the kids up to the front to sing songs with him. Ack!
I was relieved to see Ruby firmly behind Santa, dancing like a crazy monkey to "Jingle Bells" and "Up on the Housetop." "Don't turn around Santa," I prayed. "Ruby, stay behind him, don't look at his face." I only turned away for a minute, but when I turned back to the stage, I saw, to my horror, Kris Kringle leading the children out of the hall like a jolly old pied piper. "Where are they going!?" I asked my mother in a panic.
"Oh, they're going to go sit on his lap, and he's going to give them candy canes," she told me. Well, I thought that was it. Time for a difficult conversation. But when we finally found Ruby again, she was so excited to have another candy cane, she didn't mention Santa at all. I didn't bring it up, and we never discussed it. Maybe she was too scared to look first Santa in the eye, and never saw what he really looked like? Maybe she just didn't notice that they looked different? I mean, they were dressed the same. Maybe she did notice, and just attributed his slightly different look to Christmas magic? I don't know. But whatever happened, we all wound up happy and excited, and no problems were caused by the Double Santa all the way. But let me tell you, if it was starting to look like a Triple Santa, I was out of there.
One of the adjustments of moving to a smaller town, is that...everything is smaller. We went to the Festival of Trees in Baltimore last year, and it kind of made this one look like a Festival of Tree. But it was a lot of fun and we met a lot of friendly people. When we first arrived, there were two sparkly purple fairies hopping about, having their pictures taken with children. Ruby would not go near the fairies. This was worrisome, as it made me wonder if she would also be scared of Santa. I finally convinced Ruby that maybe we could go ask the fairies where Santa was, but sadly theses were not the talking kind of fairies. They just jingled their head-bells and grinned maniacally, so Ruby was even more freaked out.
We discovered, via asking a normal human, that Santa was down the street at the craft fair, so we headed over. When we arrived, there was Santa, handing out candy canes and talking to children. This was when Ruby started crying. Not, as it turns out, because she was afraid of Santa, but because she couldn't remember everything she wanted for Christmas, and was sure to leave something out. "We should have made a list!" she wailed loudly in the middle of the craft fair.
She finally agreed to go over there, provided we made a longer list later and mailed it to him, and we rehearsed the two things she could remember to tell him: Toy Story 3 toys and a blue watch. I don't know if she actually said anything to him when she got over there. She seemed to just stand there in shock and horror, but she got a candy cane, and seemed happy to have seen him. I asked her what Santa said to her, and she told me he had asked her if she wanted an American Girl doll. Thanks a lot Santa. Now Ruby wants an American Girl Doll. I WAS DONE SHOPPING!
We had to leave the event to get across the lake where we were attending a holiday pot luck dinner at my mother's church. The pots were not lucky. I am not kidding when I tell you that half of the dishes were scalloped potatoes, and the other half were "vegetable" dishes containing either jello, or marshmallow, or, in one case, both. The dinner was going fine. Some middle school band was playing religious music and we were getting ready for dessert, when my worst nightmare happened.
There we were, having a perfectly fine time, when what to my wondering eyes should appear, but Santa Claus! ANOTHER Santa Claus. I was not prepared for this. I know that during any given holiday season one is likely to run into several different versions of old Saint Nick, but not on the same DAY! Not hours apart from each other! I was wracking my brain, trying to think of ways to explain Santa's sudden growth spurt and louder voice, when they invited the kids up to the front to sing songs with him. Ack!
I was relieved to see Ruby firmly behind Santa, dancing like a crazy monkey to "Jingle Bells" and "Up on the Housetop." "Don't turn around Santa," I prayed. "Ruby, stay behind him, don't look at his face." I only turned away for a minute, but when I turned back to the stage, I saw, to my horror, Kris Kringle leading the children out of the hall like a jolly old pied piper. "Where are they going!?" I asked my mother in a panic.
"Oh, they're going to go sit on his lap, and he's going to give them candy canes," she told me. Well, I thought that was it. Time for a difficult conversation. But when we finally found Ruby again, she was so excited to have another candy cane, she didn't mention Santa at all. I didn't bring it up, and we never discussed it. Maybe she was too scared to look first Santa in the eye, and never saw what he really looked like? Maybe she just didn't notice that they looked different? I mean, they were dressed the same. Maybe she did notice, and just attributed his slightly different look to Christmas magic? I don't know. But whatever happened, we all wound up happy and excited, and no problems were caused by the Double Santa all the way. But let me tell you, if it was starting to look like a Triple Santa, I was out of there.
Sunday, December 5, 2010
State of the Blog Address
My fellow internet time wasters, I am here today to discuss Tenor Dad. The blog, not the man. Today marks three months of blogging, and as we approach the milestone 100th blog (preparations for the celebration are already underway), I thought it was time to reflect back on what we have all accomplished together so far, and where we have left to go. Here's what I have learned.
1) I Like to Make Lists
I knew that I liked lists, but I have noticed that a lot of my blogs are in list form. Just saying.
2) 94% of My Blogs Are About Food or My Pants
I don't know why I blog about eating so much, because I hate eating. Maybe I should write about how much I hate food. But then, I would be writing about, well, but, ok, nevermind. And I have no idea about the pants thing.
3) People Don't Like Sequels
My food trucks of New York blog got a lot of hits, but by the time we got to part 23, nobody was clicking through anymore. Lesson learned. One set of poetic parables: funny. Four sets: annoying.
4) Nobody Reads Blogs on the Weekend
My lowest numbers are by far on Saturdays and Sundays. I get it. People have stuff to do. I made a commitment to blog every day for a year, but that was basically to get me into the habit and into a schedule. I don't feel like I am breaking my promise by making the following announcement.
I will no longer be posting blogs on the weekends. This will be my last Sunday blog. I will focus on quality rather than quantity. Don't be sad though, you can still read me on the weekends. Catch up on blogs that you missed over the week. Repost your favorites on facebook. Click "follow" over on the right of this very page. Hop on over and like my blog on facebook. Honestly, schedule or no schedule, it's been the support of all of you loyal readers that has kept me blogging. So thank you. I know with your help, we can keep this blog going for years to come.
1) I Like to Make Lists
I knew that I liked lists, but I have noticed that a lot of my blogs are in list form. Just saying.
2) 94% of My Blogs Are About Food or My Pants
I don't know why I blog about eating so much, because I hate eating. Maybe I should write about how much I hate food. But then, I would be writing about, well, but, ok, nevermind. And I have no idea about the pants thing.
3) People Don't Like Sequels
My food trucks of New York blog got a lot of hits, but by the time we got to part 23, nobody was clicking through anymore. Lesson learned. One set of poetic parables: funny. Four sets: annoying.
4) Nobody Reads Blogs on the Weekend
My lowest numbers are by far on Saturdays and Sundays. I get it. People have stuff to do. I made a commitment to blog every day for a year, but that was basically to get me into the habit and into a schedule. I don't feel like I am breaking my promise by making the following announcement.
I will no longer be posting blogs on the weekends. This will be my last Sunday blog. I will focus on quality rather than quantity. Don't be sad though, you can still read me on the weekends. Catch up on blogs that you missed over the week. Repost your favorites on facebook. Click "follow" over on the right of this very page. Hop on over and like my blog on facebook. Honestly, schedule or no schedule, it's been the support of all of you loyal readers that has kept me blogging. So thank you. I know with your help, we can keep this blog going for years to come.
Saturday, December 4, 2010
Everyone is Sick
If you came to this blog hoping for a scathing criticism of the general depravity currently overwhelming the human population, then I am sorry to disappoint you. I am not speaking globally, nor am I referring to a state of mind. No, I just mean that everyone is sick. Haven't you noticed?
Baby Edward has been sick for almost two months, with a few breaks in between colds, and now has a double ear infection. Ruby was up all night throwing up last night, and poor Simone had to deal with it, because I did not wake up. This was because of my Nyquil overdose that kept me nice and sedated as I try and get rid of my horrible cold. Oh, and Simone is kind of sick herself.
Actually, I am trying hard to think of someone I know that has not been sick recently. I know, I know, 'tis the season, right? But it seems worse this year. Colds seem to be lasting longer, and spreading faster. And it's not just near me either. All of my facebook friends seem to be regularly posting that they are sick, so unless germs are spreading via facebook now, it's not just me that is spreading it around.
I have no further hypothesis on why things are worse this year. I don't know if the weirding of weather, with its hot, then cold, then hot again lunacy is to blame. I am not sure if people are traveling more, thus spreading more germs. I can't even say for sure if the overuse of "hand sanitizer" that lasts three seconds is causing germs to become stronger and stronger, leading up to the eventual takeover of our government by the "Theraflu Party."
No, I am simply here to complain. And sniffle. Being sick sucks. Pass the tissues.
Baby Edward has been sick for almost two months, with a few breaks in between colds, and now has a double ear infection. Ruby was up all night throwing up last night, and poor Simone had to deal with it, because I did not wake up. This was because of my Nyquil overdose that kept me nice and sedated as I try and get rid of my horrible cold. Oh, and Simone is kind of sick herself.
Actually, I am trying hard to think of someone I know that has not been sick recently. I know, I know, 'tis the season, right? But it seems worse this year. Colds seem to be lasting longer, and spreading faster. And it's not just near me either. All of my facebook friends seem to be regularly posting that they are sick, so unless germs are spreading via facebook now, it's not just me that is spreading it around.
I have no further hypothesis on why things are worse this year. I don't know if the weirding of weather, with its hot, then cold, then hot again lunacy is to blame. I am not sure if people are traveling more, thus spreading more germs. I can't even say for sure if the overuse of "hand sanitizer" that lasts three seconds is causing germs to become stronger and stronger, leading up to the eventual takeover of our government by the "Theraflu Party."
No, I am simply here to complain. And sniffle. Being sick sucks. Pass the tissues.
Friday, December 3, 2010
Floating Robot Demon Head Truck
So there I am, coming home from my audition. I have pretty much not eaten all day, I am feeling like a head cold is coming on, I have spent almost the entire day traveling, and I am driving down a deserted highway in the driving rain and gale force winds. That's when I see it. The floating robot demon head truck.
We are the only two vehicles on the road, and I am stuck behind this thing driving through the unlit, pitch black local highway in a torrential downpour. I can't see around it, I'm exhausted, and there is no safe way to pass it. It's ok for a few minutes, but after some time I begin to see a face in the back of the truck. Not the normal "tail lights are eyes, bumper is a mouth" face that all cars have. No, floating between its giant triangle of tail lights was an evil looking face, staring at me. And it looked like it had lasers mounted on its shoulders that were aimed at me.
This was when I knew that I had been driving too long. I told myself that I was being silly, but once I had seen the face, I couldn't not see the face. It was very upsetting. And of course my iPod decided to shuffle the scariest music possible my way at this time. Somehow I got it into my head that this truck was leading me to the underworld, and I wanted Simone to know what had happened to me after I was engulfed, so I took a picture of the truck and texted it to her.
She then called and asked me why I had texted her a picture of a truck. I tried to explain that it was a scary floating face, but she thought I was being ridiculous. I followed that truck for an hour and a half. To this day (the next day) I cannot believe that I survived.
When I finally arrived at home, I pointed out the face in between the red lights to Simone, and she finally saw it and agreed that it was pretty scary. She may have just been humoring me, but I will let you decide. Normal truck, or floating robot demon head truck?
We are the only two vehicles on the road, and I am stuck behind this thing driving through the unlit, pitch black local highway in a torrential downpour. I can't see around it, I'm exhausted, and there is no safe way to pass it. It's ok for a few minutes, but after some time I begin to see a face in the back of the truck. Not the normal "tail lights are eyes, bumper is a mouth" face that all cars have. No, floating between its giant triangle of tail lights was an evil looking face, staring at me. And it looked like it had lasers mounted on its shoulders that were aimed at me.
This was when I knew that I had been driving too long. I told myself that I was being silly, but once I had seen the face, I couldn't not see the face. It was very upsetting. And of course my iPod decided to shuffle the scariest music possible my way at this time. Somehow I got it into my head that this truck was leading me to the underworld, and I wanted Simone to know what had happened to me after I was engulfed, so I took a picture of the truck and texted it to her.
She then called and asked me why I had texted her a picture of a truck. I tried to explain that it was a scary floating face, but she thought I was being ridiculous. I followed that truck for an hour and a half. To this day (the next day) I cannot believe that I survived.
When I finally arrived at home, I pointed out the face in between the red lights to Simone, and she finally saw it and agreed that it was pretty scary. She may have just been humoring me, but I will let you decide. Normal truck, or floating robot demon head truck?
Thursday, December 2, 2010
The Audition Process
Yesterday I was back in New York for another audition, and for all of you aspiring musicians out there, I thought you might be interested in what happens before, during, and after a professional audition.
The first thing you have to do is go to New York, unless of course your audition is somewhere else, in which case you should not go to New York. I decided to drive to Albany and take the train into the city, as it is a lot cheaper and doesn't take that much longer. Other ways to get to New York are the bus, a plane, walking (if you live in Manhattan), or swimming (if you live in Queens).
Once in New York, I prepared for my audition the next day by going to a burrito place and eating Mexican food for about three hours. Afterward, I went back to my friend Josh Jeremiah's house (he DID read my blog!) and watched up to three episodes of South Park. This is all very important, so I hope you are writing this down.
My audition was at the inhumanely early hour of 11:40, which for normal people seems very late, but for us artistic types is only a few minutes after we typically go to bed. I decided to go to bed early (midnight) so I could be well rested for my big day. My watch alarm woke me up at 8:30 and I showered and got into my suit. At this point I would have liked to warm up my voice a little, but Josh and his sub-letter/roommate were both still sleeping, so I did lip flutters and hummed quietly.
Josh eventually woke up and decided to make me breakfast. He pulled out some Domino's pizza from a few days earlier and microwaved it, after which he fried it on the stove with some butter. It is very important to have a good breakfast before any big audition.
I made it to the audition location with plenty of time to spare, so I decided to find an ATM. Another tip: pay your accompanist. Otherwise you may get punched in the face, and/or be unable to find accompaniment in the future. Well, I still had about twenty minutes, so I walked around outside in the pouring rain and 70 mph winds and warmed up. This is a great thing about New York. You can walk around the street singing loud high D flats, and nobody cares.
During the audition I sang a couple of arias, whatever. Who cares. The important thing is that when I was done, my agent said it was the best audition I had ever done, and we were going to lunch! Getting your agent to take you out is the most important part of the audition process.
Sadly, I had a train to catch, and we could not find a good place to eat in time. I jumped in a cab and headed for the train station. I almost didn't make it the traffic was so bad, but I arrived just as they were boarding. What this meant was that I didn't get any lunch. Luckily I had a giant bag of gummy bears in my pocket. I ate the whole thing. I thought I would get lunch in Albany, but the train was late due to the weather, so I just got on the road. Traffic was abysmal, and I realized if I was going to be home on time for bedtime, I would have to just find a drive through somewhere. I thought Lake George, but there was no fast food.
I asked my GPS to find a fast food place on my route, and it told me there was not one until Shelburne, 80 miles away. I thought for sure there was a McDonalds around there, but I pulled into a gas station and got a huge bag of pepperoni combos and an iced tea. I ate the whole thing. And as soon as I finished the bag I turned the corner and saw a McDonalds.
Now you may recall that so far that day I had eaten a) a piece of fried microwaved pizza, b) an entire bag of gummy bears, and c) an entire bag of combos. So I felt like I should eat something else, even though I was full of combos. I always feel like a fat pig saying "I'll have a double quarter pounder with cheese," so instead I said "I'll have the number three combo," which made me feel much skinnier, even though it came with fries which I did not eat.
But I digress. Basically, the most important thing post-audition is nutrition. I'll let you know if I get hired.
The first thing you have to do is go to New York, unless of course your audition is somewhere else, in which case you should not go to New York. I decided to drive to Albany and take the train into the city, as it is a lot cheaper and doesn't take that much longer. Other ways to get to New York are the bus, a plane, walking (if you live in Manhattan), or swimming (if you live in Queens).
Once in New York, I prepared for my audition the next day by going to a burrito place and eating Mexican food for about three hours. Afterward, I went back to my friend Josh Jeremiah's house (he DID read my blog!) and watched up to three episodes of South Park. This is all very important, so I hope you are writing this down.
My audition was at the inhumanely early hour of 11:40, which for normal people seems very late, but for us artistic types is only a few minutes after we typically go to bed. I decided to go to bed early (midnight) so I could be well rested for my big day. My watch alarm woke me up at 8:30 and I showered and got into my suit. At this point I would have liked to warm up my voice a little, but Josh and his sub-letter/roommate were both still sleeping, so I did lip flutters and hummed quietly.
Josh eventually woke up and decided to make me breakfast. He pulled out some Domino's pizza from a few days earlier and microwaved it, after which he fried it on the stove with some butter. It is very important to have a good breakfast before any big audition.
I made it to the audition location with plenty of time to spare, so I decided to find an ATM. Another tip: pay your accompanist. Otherwise you may get punched in the face, and/or be unable to find accompaniment in the future. Well, I still had about twenty minutes, so I walked around outside in the pouring rain and 70 mph winds and warmed up. This is a great thing about New York. You can walk around the street singing loud high D flats, and nobody cares.
During the audition I sang a couple of arias, whatever. Who cares. The important thing is that when I was done, my agent said it was the best audition I had ever done, and we were going to lunch! Getting your agent to take you out is the most important part of the audition process.
Sadly, I had a train to catch, and we could not find a good place to eat in time. I jumped in a cab and headed for the train station. I almost didn't make it the traffic was so bad, but I arrived just as they were boarding. What this meant was that I didn't get any lunch. Luckily I had a giant bag of gummy bears in my pocket. I ate the whole thing. I thought I would get lunch in Albany, but the train was late due to the weather, so I just got on the road. Traffic was abysmal, and I realized if I was going to be home on time for bedtime, I would have to just find a drive through somewhere. I thought Lake George, but there was no fast food.
I asked my GPS to find a fast food place on my route, and it told me there was not one until Shelburne, 80 miles away. I thought for sure there was a McDonalds around there, but I pulled into a gas station and got a huge bag of pepperoni combos and an iced tea. I ate the whole thing. And as soon as I finished the bag I turned the corner and saw a McDonalds.
Now you may recall that so far that day I had eaten a) a piece of fried microwaved pizza, b) an entire bag of gummy bears, and c) an entire bag of combos. So I felt like I should eat something else, even though I was full of combos. I always feel like a fat pig saying "I'll have a double quarter pounder with cheese," so instead I said "I'll have the number three combo," which made me feel much skinnier, even though it came with fries which I did not eat.
But I digress. Basically, the most important thing post-audition is nutrition. I'll let you know if I get hired.
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
Is Tangled a Good Movie for 3 Year Olds?
Recently we took Ruby to see Rapunzel Tangled, because she had seen all the previews for it and was very excited about all things Rapunzel. She even made up a song about how much she loved Rapunzel, and that was before she ever saw the movie.
But Tangled is rated PG. Now, to be honest, I stopped paying attention to movie ratings when I turned 17. Now it seems that I must retrain myself to pay close attention, because Ruby is terrified of PG movies. G movies are fine. The thing is, I can't figure out why. Here are some examples of what scares Ruby and does not scare Ruby.
Anastasia (rated G) - evil looking man with his face half rotted off sings a song from the bowels of Hell while squishing up little bugs and creatures. Ruby says: Not Scary.
Tangled (rated PG) - attractive looking mother says passive aggressive things in a generally cheerful manner. Ruby says: Scary. Ruby shrieked in horror every time Mother Gothel came on screen, even if she was just making scones and/or friendly conversation.
The Little Mermaid (rated G) - giant octopus witch throws lightening and evil magic at our heroes until being stabbed violently with a broken ship's mast. Ruby says: Not Scary.
Shrek (rated PG) - Shrek and donkey chase a dragon around, conquering it with kisses and ultimately befriending it. Ruby says: Terrifying. Even when the dragon was their friend Ruby was screaming at the sight of it. She did not like the dragon until at least Shrek 2. BUT...
Sleeping Beauty (rated G) - evil witch transforms into giant dragon and tries to kill Prince Charming, ultimately being stabbed to death. Ruby says: Not Scary.
The best idea I have heard so far is that the ratings people probably just show every cartoon to a room full of three year olds. If they cry: PG, if they do not cry: G. I mean, I just cannot figure out what is going to be scary to my own child. I guess that's why we have the ratings. Right?
But Tangled is rated PG. Now, to be honest, I stopped paying attention to movie ratings when I turned 17. Now it seems that I must retrain myself to pay close attention, because Ruby is terrified of PG movies. G movies are fine. The thing is, I can't figure out why. Here are some examples of what scares Ruby and does not scare Ruby.
Anastasia (rated G) - evil looking man with his face half rotted off sings a song from the bowels of Hell while squishing up little bugs and creatures. Ruby says: Not Scary.
Tangled (rated PG) - attractive looking mother says passive aggressive things in a generally cheerful manner. Ruby says: Scary. Ruby shrieked in horror every time Mother Gothel came on screen, even if she was just making scones and/or friendly conversation.
The Little Mermaid (rated G) - giant octopus witch throws lightening and evil magic at our heroes until being stabbed violently with a broken ship's mast. Ruby says: Not Scary.
Shrek (rated PG) - Shrek and donkey chase a dragon around, conquering it with kisses and ultimately befriending it. Ruby says: Terrifying. Even when the dragon was their friend Ruby was screaming at the sight of it. She did not like the dragon until at least Shrek 2. BUT...
Sleeping Beauty (rated G) - evil witch transforms into giant dragon and tries to kill Prince Charming, ultimately being stabbed to death. Ruby says: Not Scary.
The best idea I have heard so far is that the ratings people probably just show every cartoon to a room full of three year olds. If they cry: PG, if they do not cry: G. I mean, I just cannot figure out what is going to be scary to my own child. I guess that's why we have the ratings. Right?
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