Son Meet Hockey

“What’s that?”
“It’s the Stanley Cup Final”
“What’s that?”
“It’s called Hockey”
“How come they---
“AAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRGHGHGHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
“How come you yelled?”
“AAAAARGARRGGGH NONONONONONONONONOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!”
“How come NONONONONO?”
[heavy breathing]
“No Yelling Daddy!”
“It’s called Hockey”
“Ok Dad”
“See the puck?”
“No”
“It’s right there”
“No”
“Now it’s there”
“No”
“It’s there now”
“No”
“See it? It went there”
“No”
“Ok there it is there”
“I See it!”
“Ok they have to hit it into the net”
“Ok”
“And they ride ice skates”
“Ok”
“It’s like futbol”
“OK”

[1:32 seconds pass]

“AARARRRARRGHHGHGH!!!!!!!!!!!!!NONONONONONONONONONONONONON”
“No Yelling Daddy!”
[heavy breathing]
“Mommy says how come there’s no goalie?”
“They pull the goalie to have more offensive players”
“But DAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaad”
“Yeah Buddy?”
“Wassagoalie?”

....

“Dad they’re fighting!!!!!”
“No son they’re hugging.”
“How come?”
“Because they won the Stanley Cup Finals”
“How’d they win?”
“They scored two goals and the other team only scored one”
“That’s not enough Dad”
“Huh?”
“Dad that’s only 3”
“Yeah 3 goals total, but one team has 2 and the other team 1”
“That’s not enough that’s only 3”
“You just have to have more goals than the other team to win”
“Because they got it into the tent?”
“Yeah they got it into the tent more”
“Now the other team is sad?”
“Yeah son they’re sad”
“They crying?”
“Yeah maybe, but it’s ok”
“It’s OK to cry?”
“It’s always OK to cry when you lose the Stanley Cup Finals”
“OK”

....

“Dad I want to play Hockey with them!”
“With those guys?”
“Yeah!”
“Do you know how to ice skate?”
“No”
“Then you can’t play”
“I have to Ice skate first?”
“Yes, and you have to have a beard”
“A beard?”
“Yes, it’s in the rules”
“Ok”
“Ok let’s count beards”
“Yay!”
“1”
“2”
“3”
“4”

....

“23”
“24”
“25”
“26”

....

“Dad I think I like Hockey”
“I think I like you”
“I like you too Dad”

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Goodbye Sweet Heart

This is not a home. It is a love story.

It was at the end of what would later be called our first date, looking for furniture for her home, me along for the ride solely because of my cargo capacity vehicle, that I walked into her house, burritos (that she bought us) in hand: fat chubby Salvadorian payment for my schlepping assistance.

You own this house?

Yeah.

Sweet.

She gave me a tour. I saw her tiny Toyota completely surrounded by boxes like a crazy person in her spacious two car garage.

I saw her pink bedroom with stenciled vines and a poor mattress set, sans bed frame, rocking a tatami headboard.

How exotic.

Are you making fun of me?

No. I love it.

You ARE making fun of me!!!

I saw an entire floor’s worth of unfinished basement and my eyes grew wide.

You’ve got to be kidding me. Look at this crazy space down here.

Yeah I know.

Do you have any idea what you could do with this space?

Yeah I don't know.

It opened up into a big overgrown backyard.

I love
you
r house.

Thanks.

We ended up getting married.
Me and the girl with the house.
And we laughed
And built
And threw raging parties
And fixed
And laughed
And drank
And dreamt
And ate
And wished
And built
And had kids
And threw quiet kid friendly completely non-raging parties
And loved one another
And loved the little life we build in this lovely house.

We’ll miss you
Dear girl.
May our good times and love continue to
Bounce off your walls
For many more families to come.

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The Night We Bought the House

Your mom packed you kids up along with a bunch of toys and met me after work at the other house, the one that we didn't want to buy but the one we had to see nonetheless because it was on the market and a bunch cheaper than the house we wanted. You kids ran amok in the dark old walls of this wacky home as I looked at all the potential it held. Your mother saw only a dilapidated old house with bad bones. Our agent didn't think much of it either. So we crossed it off the list and left.

We hauled ourselves into our respective cars and caravanned through the winding streets of this great little city, got turned around a few times before finally arriving at the real house we wanted. We let you kids loose again as we sat in the staging and signed page after page after page of our offer. It was dark, and this house too was old and worn down. But it had good bones and I was going to put a new heart into her. You kids laughed screaming through the house, amazed at the fact that you could see one another through different corner windows in the living room.

Finally we were done. The offer was going to go in. And as our agent left, we gathered you kids up and walked out of what we hoped would one day be our new home. We were all hungry and tired. We headed to a local ice cream shop to have our dinner. The thought that this could be our little ice cream shop in our little town was heartwarming. Sure, the reality of any small town usually lies in the dark bits, and kids can get royally screwed in any place U.S.A., but all that we can do as your parents is simply make the best decision that we can, cross our fingers and hope that lady luck is on our side. We hope that you kids can grow up reasonably safe and although we can not prevent you from seeking out dangerous situations, we hope that danger doesn't always have to come looking specifically for you.

We wanted a place that had good public schools yet was close enough to the real world that you kids would not grow up tooooo sheltered. We've been looking for a few years for the right house. Well to be honest, we've been looking for two years to find ANY house in this town that we could afford. We finally found one. She was a wreck. A fine girl that hit some hard times along the way. She needed a heart transplant and some neurological work as well. Oh and she leaks, did I mention she leaks? But you couldn't help but notice she had some class and some dirty grace. She was almost a hundred years old. She was the one we wanted and we did everything we could as fast as humanly possible from the moment we saw her to be at this point tonight. Our agent was on her way to present our offer.

So we sat that night, the four of us, in an ice cream shop eating dinner way past your bedtimes. Your eyes were as big as saucers at all the ice cream in the place. There were college kids from Cal celebrating birthdays, there were local high school kids hoping to one day be those Cal kids. There were older couples sharing dessert. And there were even a few kids that, like the two of you, were up late in disbelief surrounded by sweets. There we were, your parents, knowing that we could not predict the future and understanding that sometimes fate is inescapable no matter what your zipcode is, yet hoping nonetheless that this town could be a good place for you kids to grow up. That night we ate cheeseburgers and Reubens and chicken fingers and fries. And everything tasted better dipped in the little packets of hope that we carried with us. And the ice cream was as sweet as could be.

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Slainte

This month has been a complete whirlwind. We've been undergoing supersecret project 9000 which is of a sensitive nature and a complete timesuck. However from within this frantic dervish of which I shall share much of in the future upon its supersecret completion...I rise my head long enough to whisper...ahhhh it's my favorite day of the entire year.

We've been so busy that tonight is the first St. Patrick's day in a million years that I did not even have time to make colcannon.

Crying shame. In then end when everything is done...it will all be worth it. But for now, forgive me for not sharing our supersecret family project for now.

I do have enough time to stop a moment and listen to The Pogues, one of the finest bands in all of human history. I'll have a bit of Tullamore Dew. And wish all of you a Happy St. Patrick's Day.

May the roads rise to meet you.
May the wind be at your back.
May the sun shine warm upon your face;
The rain fall soft upon your fields
And, until we meet again,
May God hold you in the palm of His hand.

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The Young Damien Hirst and Other Rainy Day Projects

Uggg the rain. Yeah I'm not a rain person. I'm not a cold weather person either. Most people think it's ridiculous that I would consider Northern California as too rainy and too cold but....it is. And yes I do understand that compared with the rest of the world, the Yay Area has a comparably high warmth/dry score. Meh. Still too cold. Still too wet.

So we're all cooped up inside. The backyard is wet and my projects are tarped. We need some arts and crafty stuff. Ok I pick...Damien Hirst.

So after hunting around the house for half an hour looking for some type of dead animal to cut in half and preserve in formaldehyde, the thought occurred to me that what I really like about Damien Hirst is the relative diversity of his work. Maybe we weren't going to find any creature that we could embalm on this rainy day. Sorry kids. The closest we came was a hard boiled egg cut in half and pickled in separate jars to be titled "Eggs Separated". Hmmm I'm going to have to pursue that idea.

Well lucky for us Hirst has his uber-silly spin art paintings for us to pursue. Now I'm not going to get into the 'What Is Art' argument here. Basically this question is now and will always be completely in the control of the cultural gatekeepers in society. The definition is always in the air and shifts with the shift in who holds the reins from generation to generation. It's cultural...it's flexible. For me though...the Hirst spin paintings are dead and soulless. Which ties in perfectly with the themes pursued so well in his other work. Meh.

This isn't to say I have anything against spin art. For kids and a rainy day...sounds perfect. We need a spinnermabob.



So just get a box. Cut a hole. Tape a piece of egg carton to the middle. Then thumbtack a paper plate to it. Ta Da. Spin away.



Now this is a manual spinner that can't quite get up to a respectable RPM. So it's better for spirals and circles. If I had a bit more motivation I'd modify an orbital sander for some good dangerous times.

Nonetheless...I think the kids' work came out great.




Next time kids, I'll promise to have a large mammal to cut in half.

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You Are My Julie

I was in 5th grade. Me and my buddy Mike had gotten his older sister to take us to the movies. It was a cold night...and we were warmed only by the fact that we were getting into an R-rated film. Little did I know, during the next two hours I was about to permanently form every notion I would ever hold about Love for the rest of my life. The year was 1983 and the film was Valley Girl.

Anyone who thinks for a second I am trying to be funny, seriously needs:

1) A good thrashing
2) To see this movie. Again.

Fast forward 15 years and I was....I kid you not....crashing an 80's valley girl theme party. I was wearing gigantic JNCO raver pants and wondering who's stupid idea it was to stop here before heading to Spundae when I saw my future wife in an asymmetric ponytail talking to other similarly dressed girls while her 80's decked boyfriend sat sullenly on a couch. Somewhere far off in my brain something seemed oddly familiar about this situation. This was interrupted by the overwhelmingly louder and more pressing question...What in god's name where we doing here????

We left. Quickly. No I did not turn around to sneak back and talk to that ponytailed girl. No we did not rush out to Hollywood, because we were in ummm Northern California. I guess I could have taken her to the Tenderloin, which is the closest thing to Hollywood I got up here. I strongly remember the plight of her boyfriend bedecked in 80's garb. I remember feeling really really bad for him. I remember thinking that there would be no way some girl could ever get me to do stupid things like that for her.

Fast forward 10 years and I'm married to her and blogging about making Christmas toffee. Who's laughing now eh??? You win 80's former boyfriend dude...you win by a mile.

Here's all I needed to know about love from the film Valley Girl.

Love Is Wonky: Yeah we're from two different worlds. That's the only way it works. Nerds and beauty queens. Punkers and Soc's. Fat and skinny. Tic Tac and Kodiak. Hollywood and the Valley. You and me. Of course we'd meet one day.

Real Love Deserves Grand Gestures: Ummm yeah. Do something stupid for those you love. Check. Happens all the time. Hell I blog about my kids. That's pretty lame. I know no shame. Love is embarrassing...and often. I may have never slept in your front yard, or taken a job at the local theater to pester you and your date, but I built you a bed to get you to go out with me and I once made toffee at your request. I told you I love you on the internet. That's pretty punk for a fat old former Kodiak chewing ex-Hollywood native with big-ass dusty raver pants still in his closet.

Music Is Everything: Our lives must always have a soundtrack. Keep the music on. Loud and Always.

When in Doubt Go To Du-Par's: Celebrate a new love or miss the one that got away with a cheeseburger, fries, milkshake and some precious time carved out of the chaos. The heart needs food. Apparently I have like 16 hearts or just one gigantic one because I am um...fat now.

Broken Heart? Hit the streets: Drunk in Hollywood nursing a broken heart. Repeat as needed. Haven't been back in awhile. Let's keep it that way.

If You're Cool You'll Hang Out at The Central (and listen to The Plimsouls): Now known as the Viper Room. Still my happy place.

Never Trust Blond Guys Doing Karate: Obviously. If still in doubt please see the Karate Kid.

In the End Love Will Sort Itself Out Just Right: In Hollywood at least. Strangely enough, I still await this to be proven wrong.

Happy Valentine's Day Baby. Like totally.

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Most Mondays

Our default Monday is spent at the California Academy of Sciences. Golden Gate Park is beautiful....as is the drive over this rickety old bridge soon to be replaced by some newfangled thingermabob.



We usually think we're gonna save money by bringing our packed lunches which is an absolutely marvelous idea...until we break down and blow $20 on two desserts and 4 drinks. You know what though...only in San Francisco is this considered museum food.



Chef Charles Phan and Loretta Keller's Caramel pot de creme and the infamous ginger ice cream sandwich trapped in a little display case like an oddly otherworldly delicious ice cream creature.

It's all so worth it to give our little girl her weekly penguin fix.

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