Sleds, Turkey, Fire, and Betty

My last post was about writing and how I must do it.  Then I disappear for 2 weeks.  I like my style.  I've got lots to share so I'm going to efficiently go down the list, get you what you need, and go home.

Check this out.  I told you I'd share the Thanksgiving sledding adventures with you.  So here.  Brace yourselves.  This video is like being at Disney World without all the electric scooters and fanny packs.  Listening to the EGB giggle is infectious.  I'm giggling.  I can't stop.  (video on blog)

Action photo.  Going to be on the cover of "Sledding Today".  Hmmmm.  Maybe on to something with this whole magazine devoted to the lifestyle and time of sledding.  Any angel investors out there?

Ok.  Now that I can check Thanksgiving off the list--actually, I better add this on as it has become a tradition of sorts.  Some families tell stories around the fire.  Others get together with cousins and play football.  Some make cookies and hang out it pajamas.  We keep it real.

We baste ourselves and stay moist. EGB circa 2008.

The tradition continues.  By the way, it's going to be so weird when she's 16 and we try to stuff her in the same pan. I guess we'll have to try to keep her little or grease her jeans.

Ok. Now Thanksgiving is done.  Moving on to Hanukkah.  We couldn't find our menorah.  So we did what people did thousands of years ago.  Grabbed some wood, got a drill, went to the shed and made one.

 Fire.  Set your bear on fire. Set your hair on fire.  It's Hanukah.  For the record, Hebrew sounds extra funny when a 2-year-old gets going.  EGB picked it up quick. She's borderline rabbi with a dash of Speedy Gonzalez and a sprinkle of small zoo animal.

Then I said I'd share the Golden parade with you.  It's pretty small and basically a bunch of people with those santa/elf hats walking down the street throwing candy canes at you and your children (you know what hats I mean-the red fuzzy ones that old people think are really funny to wear when shopping at the mall during the holidays. What are they called anyway?  On that note I saw a guy at the gas station on my way to work yesterday pumping gas with a baseball hat on with large reindeer antlers. A grown man with antlers.  Really? )

Waiting for some candy.

 This parade makes me want to party.

Or at least ride in a buggy pulled by a dog.  Go you slow dog!  Let's go to the drive-through and crush burgers.

There's more.  Family visits and other general pirate style events, but you'll have to wait.  We're busy.  It's roadtrip time.  The big sky of Montana is calling.  Updates will trickle in upon our return.  Until then I've got a riddle for you.

What do you get when you cross an 80s Madonna......

.....With an old Betty Davis?

The Great EGB of course!  A beacon of style and class from an era of the past.  She's our little trendsetter...

"Write"

So as I previously mentioned there is this is a sign I put next to my computer reminding myself to write.  I actually got out a piece of paper, a marker, and wrote the word "write" on it.  I'd show you a picture, but you'll just have to take my word for it.  I guess in doing that very act I obeyed myself.  So I am following my own direction.  Which is quite dangerous because last time I followed myself I ended up where I started.  Which makes sense given that if you follow wherever you go, you'll just end up where you are, which really is nowhere because you've never left. Whatever.

I've realized that it's easy not to write.  At the same time it's also hard not to write.  Very similar to all of our other mini-battles that go on a million times a day in our modern heads .  It's easy not to eat right.  It's easy to skip a run.  It's easy to avoid.  It's easy be anonymous.  It's easy to hide.  It's easy to do the wrong thing.  The little voices in the head telling you do the easy thing are quite powerful.

I'm assuming that this has to be a relatively new human phenomenon of our modern mental state.  I mean, I don't picture cavemen waking up, scratching their natty heads, saying, "Man, should I walk up out of this stone dwelling and crush a donut with triple-cocoa seasonal latte? Or should I just save money, be healthy and just chill here and eat some oats and fruit?"  Or, "Dang, I'm getting soft up in here.  I should put on my running loin cloth and jog around this rock. Naw, maybe later."

That dilemma didn't exist. It couldn't exist.  Survival was an imminent task. And doing the wrong thing because it was easy would ultimately be the demise of the necessary survival gene.  But this whole "caveman survival mode" is essentially an obsolete condition in our time. True artistic expression, writing, music, job choices, neighborhood to live in choices, what to eat--are all choices that exist as a product of our ability to overcome the threats of non-survival.  Cavemen couldn't hide, skip, avoid, or they could die.  Cavemen didn't blog because they were chasing food.  I do wonder if cavemen had any "modern" worries?  What did they think about outside of survival?

So yes, I'm writing, but I just realized I'm writing about cavemen.  I guess that's ok since EGB is basically a caveman.  Without a bath, lotions,  carpal-tunnel-inducing aggressive combing--she has caveman hair.  She also gives me a glimpse into the survival-driven mind of a caveman.  I constantly see the stripped down biological nature of humans in my interactions with the fuzz head.  There is a plate full of food and she'll ask for more.  She thrives on the calorie-rich sugar laden foods to quickly get energy.  She does what she thinks will be the most possibly fun thing she can do in every moment.  She exhibits early signs of empathy as needed for humans to care to each other.  She quickly exhibits fear in threatening visual and auditory conditions.  She chooses to run to get from point a to b.   She laughs a lot at the silliness of a world that grown ups take so seriously.  She takes so seriously her world that we grown ups think is so silly.

I haven't taught her any of these things, but as I've learned in a world with EGB, they must be important.  I'm sure at some point we all knew of these things too.

So I guess that's why I write. It's why I feel that I should write. I don't really know why, but I just feel it.  It must be attached to a hardwired desire to survive.  As EGB has taught me--we're all still cavemen, but we just forgot how to be.

As always, much to say, but not the time to do so.  The Dairy Queen left me home with the spider monkey for almost a week now.  I've survived.  Thank you for all of your support, calls, offers to help, dinners, play dates....not.  I did it on my own.  I went to battle and did the damn thing.  Actually, it was a time well spent with a 2-year-old that laughs like flowing water.  I laughed too.

Once I get out of survival mode.  I'll share Thanksgiving sledding adventures, Hanukah menorah making, EGB skiing, parade attending, and other general chaotic events with you.  Don't let me forget--life is fast like that.

Until then. Our good friend Sheila aka She-ra is getting into the world of professional photography.  When she does I'll be sure to do my part to market on her behalf.  For now, she captured some classic EGB to share.  There's

Two words.  Caveman hair.

Are we moving?

 Why you got me on a leash?  I'm not a dog.  Let me fly down this damn hill.

 Good powder day.  I need some of that hot cocoa with a six-pack of milk.

 Good one huh?  The pure look of wonderment.  What do cavemen think about?

Where Is My Damn Thumb?

Thanksgiving came and went.  We hit the legendary sledding hill in Steamboat aka Uncle Ivan's driveway where the Jamaican bobsled dreams began.  Videos and pictures to come with some real goods.

Until then.  EGB is looking for her thumb.  Seen it?  

(Video on the blog)

Happy Wednesday

I know it's not Friday, but it feels like one.  Fat roasted turkeys around the corner.  Or as the wise EGB would say, "Thanksgiving is after my nap".  I guess everything is technically after her nap.

More rock videos soon...Until then.

Find a balance in life because if you fall you might get busted up.

Climb something you've never climbed before.  Then scream for your Dad to get you down.

Smile.  Because old people will give you free stuff.

Take Me Out To The Ball Game

Back by popular demand is the legendary 2-year-old diva, EGB with her rendition of "Take Me Out To The Ball Game" (on the blog for email subscribers).  It's been a real whirlwind since she did her first video.  We almost can't keep up with the press, fans, and paparazzi.  She got one comment from someone else's grandma on her YouTube channel.  It's straight madness around here.  We're fighting off agents and drooling toddler boys left and right around here.  Send in the troops.

In this melodic and timeless video you'll see she's been working on her enunciation.  I think it takes her 10 minutes to say Crack....errrr....jacks.  But that could be part of her product placement contract with Cracker Jack .  By the way I just learned several things in looking up Cracker Jack.  First of all, I didn't know he was owned by Frito Lay.  Must be weird to doing your thing..slinging carmel nuts and toys and the next thing you know you're owned by some corn chips. Also, I didn't know Cracker and Jack were separated words.  I always thought it was Crackerjacks--with an "s" on the end too.  As if you were eating some ancient corn brittle that you had to crack like some jacks or something.  But I guess it's really a sailor boy named Cracker and his dog Jack who are rocking the box cover.  Now that I think about it, I can't imagine that Jack is happy about being a called a cracker, but I guess times were different back then.

Anyway.  The best part of this video is that EGB has never been to a baseball game.  Not even a softball game. No T-Ball. Nothing.  This is inspired by pure, raw imagination.  It's like a Jewish kid on Christmas morning.  You know everybody is up to something.  What is it? You're not sure...you envision them dancing, singing, opening piles of toys brought in by some dude in a XXL red suit, and eating the illicit ham.  It's a true fantasy world out there while you stay at home crushing the last of the Manischewitz on the couch because everything is closed. EGB is channeling the long history of this fantasy driven imagination by Jewish songwriters.  "White Christmas" and "Rudolf, the Red-Nosed Reindeer" were both written by Jewish dudes.  I guess they too were bored on Christmas morning and decided to write some really popular songs.

Without further ado...Ladies and gentlemen, it's the seventh-inning stretch of 2010.  Take off your hats, stand up, loosen your belts, crush a hot dog, and take a pee if you have to.  It's the great EGB doing what she does best.  Time to get down.  And can't wait to take EGB to a baseball game next year so she school all the other little kids on her "Ball Game" prowess.

Burgers For Halloween

Ahhh. What difference a year makes.  If you click here  you'll see the Great EGB in her Halloween glory from 12 months ago.  She was a Colorado Fairy.  Which basically translates to a sweat suit with aluminum foil wings.

This year she's 2-years-old. Which basically means we as parents can still make EGB be whatever we want her to be.  After going through the normal rounds of little girl options....princess, cheerleader, super woman.  We put EGB down for her nap with the idea that she'd be a cheerleader upon her awakening.  The reality was that this outfit consisted of old ribbons, stained shirts, and some other kid's skirt.  I wanted more.  I wanted EGB to be proud of her costume.  See how this works?  2-year-olds couldn't actually care less, but we as parents project our wants and desires on our kids thus stressing the hell out of them.  I could have put a garbage bag on her and EGB would have thought that was the craziest thing ever.  But I'm not really into garbage bags on kids.

So I got on the hunt during EGB's nap.  After some unsuccessful attempts at the grocery store, Walgreens, and the thrift store, the costume was found at Old Navy about 30 minutes before EGB was due to hit the streets in pursuit of candy. It was the awesomest costume I'd ever seen, but I knew it wasn't going to be an instant sell.  EGB likes sparkle and pink.  This was a fleece brown cheeseburger costume.  If you're hungry--it's the best looking thing you've ever seen.  Lettuce, cheese, sesame bun--the whole thing. But if you've just woken up from your nap thinking you were going to get to be this awesome cheerleader, but now are going to be a cheeseburger--it sucks.  We shoved it in her face upon her awakening and she looked at me like, "Papa.  You crazy old fart.  Shoo.  If you think I'm wearing that then you better install a chocolate milk keg in my room."

After a couple of bribes with the lure of candy and some over the top parenting lies, "ISN'T THIS THE COOOOLEST THING YOU'VE EVER SEEN?  IT'S A CHEESEBURGER! IT'S SOOO COOL." EGB buckled. Plus the sesame bun on her belly was like one of those sumo fat suits and sweet for doing belly flops from the couch to the floor.

So she spent her 2nd Halloween as a cheeseburger amongst the witches, football players, cheerleaders, and turtles. The other kids loved her.  The adults thought she was uniquely cute.  You know that sort of indirect judgement that occurs between parents?

"Ohhh.  What a cute cheeseburger!" said parent to EGB.

All the while the parent is giving me the stank eye that really meant, "A cheeseburger?  You made your adorable little daughter a burger?  A steamy burger?  With lettuce and cheese?  For real? That ain't right.  I'm about to call child services on you. She should be something more girly.  More out there in the realm of fairy world stuff.  There is a cannon for this, you know?  A rite of passage of sorts for little girls. A cheerleader would have been much better."  Then would proceed to give EGB extra candy as an act of sympathy.  EGB would then slyly look to me and wink her eye.  We were in on this one together.

As a parent of a 2-year-old trick-or-treater there is this weird element in which the candy-giver to your child somehow indirectly becomes your own personal candy dealer.  The candy-giver and I both know that this little 2-year-old isn't going to crush all the candy.  In fact, EGB isn't going to eat much of it at all.  Therefore, my little cheeseburger is doing some dirty work to round up the neighborhood candy for me.  It made me feel a little dirty.  Like in the 80s when I'd hear the stories of little 5-year-olds running crack rock for the dealers.  But after a few glimpses at the shiny candy wrappers, I got over it. So EGB and I were essentially running a little street operation to round up as much candy as possible for me.  Once I realized what was really in it for me Halloween became a lot more fun.  EGB got tired quickly, but I pumped her up with some hard candies and straight sugar hits until we filled up her pumpkin basket.  We ran until the wee hours of the morning and shut the neighborhood down.

It went like this--EGB would walk up to the door and the candy-giver would hold out the basket of goods.  EGB would hold her hand over different candies until she was given the go ahead signal from me.  Much like a baseball pitcher and catcher except instead of curveballs vs. fastballs it was Tootsie Rolls vs. Butterfingers.  She made a few errors like picking up the plastic spider ring and pretzels, but she redeemed herself with a pickup of a full sized Hershey bar and extra Reece's Cups.  We make a good team and are planning to knock off a few banks around the holidays.

At the end of it all,  I was proud of EGB's commitment to the burger.  It takes a special child to be a burger.  She owned it.  And the dogs wanted to lick her.

Maybe years from now EGB will look at us parents and wonder why we let her be a burger for Halloween.  I hope she won't be too mad.  We did it for her so she knows what it's like to walk the earth as a burger.  Not many of us do.  It's a true test of character.  And she also did it for us.  A soldier of our street hustle. She scored as much candy as possible.  I think in this one everyone wins.  Stay tuned for next year when EGB will be a bowl of guacamole.

Got some videos here for you (view on the blog here):
What?  You've never seen a running cheeseburger?  Gotta keep them moving to earn their keep.  Go get those Reeces!!

It is not full to the top.  Better keep moving kid.  Work the streets you little burger.

Dang. Papa D.  You an old guy?  Where's your costume?

This is my little homie Ben.  He was a train. I'm a burger.  We're kindred spirits. 

Working hard for Daddy.  Boo.  Give me extra candy.

Got some pickles?

Will hustle for cookies.

EGB Is An Inspirational and Hardcore Artist

After yesterday's posting of the EGB's video rendition of "You Are My Sunshine" there was an outpouring of messages.  I was contacted by many people all over the world telling me the tales of their lives changed by EGB (by the way if you didn't see it you must go directly to the blog to watch videos.  It's a whacked feature of the email subscription thing):

"I was having the worst day.  My house burnt down.  My wife left me.  My dog pooped in my flip-flops.  My wheels fell off my car.  But then I watched the "You Are My Sunshine" video of EGB at work and immediately my boss walked in and gave me a promotion to CEO.  Then they loaded 5 kegs of beer into my new office, brought back James Brown and his band from the dead, and threw a raging party with a pizza buffet until the wee hours of the morning.  When I came to--there were 8 Victoria Secret models fighting over who was going to be my next girlfriend.  Thanks EGB.  You changed my life."  Said one lucky dude from Philadelphia.

"EGB wewe ni bora. Mimi alicheza hii jana kwa kabila wangu wote ambao walikuwa juu ya ukingo wa kufa na njaa na kifo. Wakati wa tukio hilo. A Kundi lote la nyati maji kutembea katika kijiji chetu na kuuawa wenyewe. Basi wafanyakazi wote wa umeme ngumu wired ya kijiji pamoja na umeme katika dakika ya 15. Nje ya pa Bobby Flay anatembea na hufanya mfupa bomu sucking mbavu buffalo kwa sisi wote. Shukrani EGB hatuwezi wamefanya hivyo bila wewe"  Said one Swahili email from some remote African village.  I asked EGB to translate and this is what she came up with:

"EGB you are the best.  I played this yesterday for my whole tribe who were on the brink of starving to death.  When it was done.  A whole herd of water buffalo walked into our village and killed themselves.   Then a whole crew of electricians hard wired the village with electricity in 15 minutes. Out of nowhere Bobby Flay walks in and makes the bomb bone sucking buffalo ribs for us all.  Thanks EGB we couldn't have done it without you."

"I thought I had something when I signed Janis Joplin, Whitney Houston, and Pink Floyd, but damn they're ghetto alley cats compared to you EGB.  Please call me when you get to Hollywood so I can blow you up." Said Clive Davis.

And that was only the tip of the iceberg. But you catch my drift here.  However, some said that they want to see more edge.  More of a hardcore EGB.  Oh, really?  You don't know hardcore until you see this rendition of "Twinkle Little Star".  The dog ran away after EGB poured gasoline on the TV and started biting the heads off her stuffed animals.  She rocked the guitar so hard the strings filed a lawsuit.  It's getting outta control around here.  The neighbors windows are shattering.  Anyone want to babysit this weekend?

(go to the blog to see the video)

Ummm.

EGB is 29 months.  That's almost 30 electric bills. Years, months, it all just blends together like one big chunky smoothie.  The kind with ice cream, beef, and bread all together.  The reflection is a mix of sweet, rich, and comfort.  It flies by.  I still remember being 16, eating lunch on the steps of Walnut Hills, and dodging a flying yogurt--like it was yesterday.  I'm moving on from this point....I just referenced a beef milkshake.  The fact is that we're all getting older. And it's all weird.

So yeah. I know, it's now November and basically Winter is on the prowl and I still have to get you the Fall updates.  Halloween.  Hikes. Toddler developments.  Cousin additions. It's all there and here and coming at you eventually.

But sometimes something happens in the present that supersedes all of the past as to just override it.  I guess that's the way it is for all of us sometimes.  The art of slowly playing catch up helps alleviate the burden of a past gone without reflection.  And sometimes it just has to be that way.  Going forward we may not remember it all, but carry it with us in the corners of our actions somehow.  And sometimes you just write words about doing things in hopes that in doing so you actually somehow do something.  All I know is that I feel a little better for doing it and that's all that counts.  So I do my best to slow it all down.

Back to the present. I'm not sure if it gets better than what you're about to see. I mean, eating a sandwich with EGB for the first time was pretty cool.  And sure EGB's first steps were earth shattering, but the upcoming video is the top.  I'm talking Everest.  Not some lame-ass base-camp-hot-cocoa drinking moment either.  No.  This is when a human does something that takes it to the heights.  Like Sonya "Black Widow" Thomas' ate 9.75 pounds of fried okra in 10 minutes (website equally impressive in it's awfulness greatness). That was pretty great.  Not this type of great great.

By the way, I just Googled "greatness" to see where EGB shows up.  I couldn't find her listing on the first page, so I'm writing a letter to Google to let them know that their search algorithm is obviously fatally flawed and should be outed as a fraud.  I will no longer trust Google to find anything of value.  I discussed this finding with EGB and she simply told me:

"Papa D, I never have had to use Google because I already know where and what everything is in the world."

"Really, hmm.  Ok, then where is the remote island of Trisan da Cunha?"

"It doesn't matter." ambivalently said EGB while stacking some blocks.

"But you said you know where everything is."

"Yes I did.  But I don't need to know where it is.  I know there are unknowns.  I know there are mysteries.  I know that we search for things we'll never find.  And I know that words have limitations. This Google you speak of will fall short as well. So yes, your mentioned island is somewhere to be listed.  But these serious matters of yours are of no consequence to me or any of us.  I'm hungry.  Can I have a snack?"

"Hm.  Makes sense.  I guess I'll just have to "EGB" everything from now on.  Google ain't got nothing on you my little search engine."  I said as I proceeded to kiss her on her sweaty afro.

So last night I EGB'd what to have for dinner and she printed a sloppy joe recipe out of her diaper.  It works.  It was wild. And quite a nice recipe too.

Wow, this daylight saving time is making my head a little jacked up.  I tried to explain the whole daylight saving time thing to EGB and basically realized that it doesn't matter either.  EGB is a good teacher like that.  They all are.  The little princes and princesses among us would rule the earth if they just didn't grow up and get dumber like the rest of us.

Ok. I know. Ok, let's get to it.

I know kids are cute.  Your kids are cute.  We all think we have some special thing going on.  But dammit EGB needs an agent...STAT.  Peep this and tell me this isn't the most kick ass thing you've ever seen.  This is it.  The top.  If EGB doesn't win something or get a contract from this I'm out.  I'm done.  Burning my computer and lighting my underwear on fire.

So here we go! We getting paid.  Turn it up and break out the Henny cause we gonna party with helicopters and R. Kelly. Stay tuned.

(I always forget this one.  If you are an email subscriber you'll have to go directly to the blog to see this video golden nugget of fame blazing the trail for 2-year-olds all over the universe)

There Is A Sign Next To My Computer That Says....

"Write."

I haven't.  I'll write about that later.

So I'll do the next best thing to creating a writing mandroid that could document the life of EGB and auto post to the blog......I'll let pictures fly.

It's Friday too, which according to EGB is a day to play.  Because most other days are really devoted to studies and jedi mind development.  I walked in her room the other day and she quickly covered up whatever she was working on.

"What are you doing?"

"Nothing, " said EGB.

"Really?  Then what's under the blanket?"

"Oh this?  It's a present for you Papa D.  I know how you looooove presents and since you're being all nosy and stuff I guess I'll ruin your surprise." Said EGB. (Ever notice how kids turn things on your right quick like that? Damn.)

I decided not to push her as I believe in allowing her some privacy (that is until she's a teenager and I'll be accompanying her to school dances and attaching GPS tracking devices to all her things).  However, under the blanket I some radioactive stickers.  She's likely building a time machine.  She's adventurous like that.

But on the weekends we just play with simple teddy bears and blocks.  I'm looking forward to it.  You should get your play on too.

Put away the weekly projects and hang with Papa D.  He's not smart, but he's my dad so I pretend to let him "teach" me things.

Get on the party shades and crush snacks.

Maybe even rock one of those sweaters that old people love.

Now this is what I'm talking about.  Rock a belly shirt.  Some party boots.  And party.

Rock the belly shirt to the playground too.  Nothing says style like a belly shirt with velcro shoes.  It's hot in Milan.

Dang.  Dog tired.  Is it Monday yet so I can get back to the books? 

Lots To Say But Most Of It Can Be Said Like This......

Hey you.

My camera is broken.  Which has ultimately broken me and my blog.  I'll piece this thing back together.  I've been keeping the pictures in my head.  I've got some the thoughts for you soon.

Pulled some pics off my phone which is where the world is all heading anyway.  One device to do everything.  One place to do everything from.  In some weird way it allows for me to be in more than one place at a time.  A time travel of sorts.  Here and there all in one.

So I'll see you and I'm seeing you.

Boo. Scared you?

I'm good at my paparazzi fake smilin'.

I smile real hard.

I don't you can smile harder than this.  Gold medal smile-ist here. Champion time.

Language, Bagels, Divas, and Jams

EGB: I throwed up

Me: Huh! What!?? Where did you throw up?

EGB: My hair.

Me: Huh?

EGB:  My hair throwed up in my ear.

Me:  Really?

EGB: Yip.  (translation=Yup).

Me: Oh.  That's weird.

EGB: Yip.

And then she gazed out the car window, proud of her language accomplishment.  Words go together like tossed salad these days.  As if she has this database of words that some neurological selector picks out at random.  Like the brain just says, "Oooooh.  You haven't said the word "poopie" or ""tree" in a while so let's say them now."  Poopie tree.

I'm guessing that's how the process works.  The brain makes decisions regardless of whether it makes sense or not.  That explains a lot about humanity.

EGB has been working on her music these days.  She has this steady rotation of hits that usually ends up in a two song set before she retires to the backstage where she drinks only organic bottled milk from happy cows that have a view of the ocean.  There is always a dozen bagels back there and a bucket of cream cheese.  Some times she demands toast. The "Twinkle Twinkle", "Itsy Bitsy", "ABCs", "Row Row", and parts of some others are pretty much her set list.  Over and over.  (By the way, has no one been creative enough to come up with some new hits over the past 500 years?  I mean, a new song to be added to the cannon, sprinkled in from time to time wouldn't be too much to ask for, right?  I think whole twinkling little star thing isn't a half bad idea, but the star just doesn't twinkle anymore.  It's old as hell.)

Back to bagels and divas.  This is relatively a  true depiction of the situation as every meal these days is pretty much a demand for a bagel and milk.  You know that switch in your brain that tells you when you are full?  That switch for EGB gets turned off if there are bagels within her 3 mile bagel-radar......Bagel-Dar.  She's going to work on developing a Bageldar to mass produce for 2 year old bagel addicts around the world.  She's already got the slogan down, "Get your Bageldarrrrrr, so you know where the bagels arrrrrrre." Bagel makers around the world rejoice in her presence.  However, those hosting the Sunday brunch bagel spread at the Schwartz's house get a bit nervous about their supply when the rabid EGB walks in with foam on her lips.

Anyway, EBG is straight up diva.  Forget what you heard about J-Lo's new contract on American Idol. (By the way--damn, she and that show just wont go away.  And Steven Tyler? Really? Dude, straight jumped the shark on that one. I'm not watching.)  The Diva lives here amongst us people.  No joke.  She demands things, but once you hear the sweet siren song emanating from her bagel infested teeth your troubles will flow far away.

Watch this video.....from July.  July? I know, still catching up.  Always.  True story--I forgot our wedding anniversary last week.  Before you start thinking of the hell fury that must have rained on my world as a result, there is good news.  She forgot too.  I guess we're too busy loving each other every second of the day and night to notice these seemingly transparent occasions.  (Good save, huh?)  And mom, thanks for reminding me.  I guess I should open your emails more timely.

To the video.  Pay special attention to the powerful introduction.  EGB demands attention.

I guess she's pretty good and worth her contract.  Now be quiet.

Gotta get your quick fix EGB pic too.

I believe that's some bagel stuff in the teeth.  Or maybe gold.  Happy Friday.

It's Darker

In the morning and at night.  Not sure how I feel about it all.  The long days are dwindling.  EGB is noticing it in her 2 year old mind.

"It's a little dark daddy?  All the way dark?  Just a little?"

As you can see EGB is going through a big quantitative phase in her life.  She's extra interested in the variables that make things bigger, smaller, more, less, younger, older, etc.

The big default answer that seems to be working (for now) is "when you're older".  She had a nuclear meltdown the other day when she ran out of school and directly into the HR office of the university.  First of all, I have no idea how she knew where she was going, but she ran directly in and interrupted some sort of interview and dove into a bowl of Dum-Dum lollipops.  You know the ones they give out for free at the bank that no matter how hard you try you still end up eating some of the paper stick?  That kind.  Being the responsible parent that I am I grabbed the sugar hound out of the lollipop bowl and said no to her undying plea for a lollipop.  She's never had a lollipop....that I know of,  but she used her Spiderman sense and knew it was worth rolling around on the floor blasting tears and screams.  The HR lady thought it was cute.

I told EGB when she's older she can have one.  It didn't work.  She writhed, wormed, bawled, you name it.  Must suck to be a kid sometimes.

Come to think of it, as an adult "when you're older" isn't something you usually want to hear either.

"Ooooh when can I wear those Depends diapers?"

"When you're older"

"Dentures?"

"When you're older"

Sometimes getting older means a lollipop.  Other times it means dentures.  Life is weird like that.

Happy Friday.  I hope you get everything you want when you get older too.

Here have a pine cone.

Did Somebody Lose Their Grandma?

We just found one in our kitchen and want to return her to her rightful place.  Also, there was a lifeless bear in front of her that she just fought off if that helps give any clues.

Please help.  It pains EGB to see lost Grandmas.  They belong somewhere spoiling little kids.

Edit: Update--September 17th @ 10:08AM.  Lost Grandma last seen at liquor store buying a bottle of vodka and Capri 100 cigarettes.....and suprisingly a gallon of chocolate milk. 

It's September?

Really?  That means 2010 is slipping away into the darkness....

It was just yesterday that summer was beginning and all these plans were being made to paint the house, finish the tile in the basement (some of you know the long history of this project), camp in the mountains, plant trees, bbq meat, hit some trails, teach EGB some foreign languages, do some reading, some writing, and pass gas.  Well, the paint is still in the basement, bbq is in my teeth, EGB can count to 10 in 40 languages, and my shoes are dirty.   We did some things right.

Before EGB was born there was a slew of projects to be done prior to her arrival.  I remember the thoughts of impending doom that I anticipated would bring my life to a grinding halt and force me into a drooling basement dweller.  That thankfully didn't happen and I became a drooling upstairs dweller instead.  I don't even know what that means, but I hung out upstairs with a drooling fuzz monkey aka EGB for most of the next two years.  One of the pre and post EGB projects became--me.  The Dairy Queen in all of her infinite wisdom "requested" (polite husband speak for do-it-now or I'm going to make your ears bleed with my eyes) that I see a doctor and get onced over.  I admit I'm historically poor at annual physical thing.  Getting better post EGB, but my track record wasn't so hot.  Anyway, the short recap of the visit was I was chunky.  According to some antiquated ratio of weight to height=BMI I fit into the big boy category.  Now I knew I wasn't heading to a motorized scooter anytime soon, but the doctor said get moving.

What can I say? I like to eat.  It used to be some sort of subliminal mental game every I got ready to chow.  Like a baseball batter stepping up to the plate.  Going for a home run, every time.  Buffet 3 times a day.  Let's party.  Double cheeseburgers for breakfast? No rules.  Now this is fine if you're 16 and run around and all that, but for the sedentary--not so healthy.

So I changed.  Not in the vein of vanity, but to feel armed and ready to battle.  You never know what you're going to encounter with a kid.  Who knows, but I knew I wanted to be able to chase, run, jump, with whatever came next.

So I ran on hiking trails.

I liked it.  I like it.

I'm not going to go into it much more than that because this is a family blog dammit, not some running spiritual mumbo-jumbo blog.  But just so you know, as I know most of you are suckers for a happy ending...It worked.  I can run.  I've hit the dirt hills as often as I can and climbed, scrambled, huffed and puffed for quite a few hours this summer.  I've done things I used to marvel at others doing.  I think a lot out there.  Sometimes it's about deep heavy things.  Other times it's about what's for dinner. When no one is looking sometimes I even beat my chest and say "strong body-strong mind" over and over to run up the hills. I've even screamed like Tarzan. I've gotten bitten by dogs.  Stared at by rattlesnakes. Chased away deer.  It can be blissfully mind numbing.  A sanctuary of sorts.  At some point in every run, I picture my beautiful wife and child. I know you're not there along my side.  It's almost always a solitary mission, but know that I carry you always. I'm sure I'll never know why I truly do it, but I intend to keep going until I find out. Thank you for giving me the time and inspiration to change.

In some ways it's a new me.  In other ways there is no me.  I'm just a part of it all.

And I'll paint the house sometime.

Enough about me.  EGB also hit the trails hard this summer.  She's shaping up to be quite a trail runner herself.  One time she was on the trail and a mountain lion came out to see what was going on.  I screamed and yelled, "get baaaaaack!"  EGB started tickling the lion and they ran away together into the sunset.  She came home a couple of days later and told Otis our cat about what his wild brethren have been up to.  Otis stares out the window a lot more these days.

Peep this EGB on the trail video for a glimpse at the next great runner of our time..... (emailers go to the blog to see it http://bohrmanfamily.blogspot.com/2010/09/its-september.html)

And why not throw in a picture too?
Get in the water.  Fall is coming.

I Have Been.....

Under a rock?

Trying to find my password to the blog?

Fighting 3-legged cyborgs?

Smelling dog breath?

Doin the dang thang?  Yep.  That's it.

I guess that's what it all boils down to--DO THE DANG THANG.  Well the summer has been upon us and we've been doing a lot.  And now there is much to be said.  Some good, some bad.  All is real and vibrant in the world when we have the great professor EGB holding her daily class.

Basically it's gotten to a point that there is too much to share so I don't know where to start for fear that it will sound like this, "adilsjajbsv aoidlsvh ousahe oen woiueh soviu eobn coo alnd cvpone ooco."  This quote actually reminds of this kid in high school who claimed he could speak backwards.  So we'd all try to stump him with sentences that he'd proceed to say some mumbo jumbo back and claim it was backwards for what we just said.  No one ever fact checked his work, but it sure sounded funny as hell.  I wonder what he's up to these days?  He's probably got a blog that's really hard to read, but also funny as hell.

Anyway, you know that feeling in life when you want to do so many things at once you do nothing?  Well this summer I got a case of that.  I'm gonna beat it though.  One story at a time.  One lesson.  One experience.  One memory.  One.  At.  A. Time.  That's always the best advice in these situations.

So you want to be a writer, a rock star, a mom, and a triathlete?

Can you?  Or should you?  It's like in the movie Adaptation...I don't remember everything from the movie other than it was a movie about a guy trying to write a movie about a book.  That kind of stuff always messes me up, but I'm usually up for a challenge when watching a movie.  You ever seen Memento? Anyway, I remember Meryl Streep's character is the author of the book about the dark underbelly of the world of orchid thieves, that Nicolas Cage is trying to write a movie about.  On its face a book about orchid thievery isn't the the most titillating subject for a movie.  Regardless, the one thing that stuck with me was how Meryl Streep's (character) really wanted to write a book about what it means to have a passion for one thing like her orchid thief character.  I can relate to that.  I think a lot of us can.  And those that can't--your world seems more manageable than it is for the rest of us.:

There are too many ideas and things and people.  Too many directions to go.  I was starting to believe the reason it matters to care passionately about something, is that it whittles the world down to a more manageable size.


I suppose I do have one unembarrassed passion.  I want to know what it feels like to care about something passionately.

But I don't think it has to be one grand thing and that's it forever.  It just has to be about passion for the one thing at one time.  Or it can be about the passion of discovering passion.  Whatever it is, that's a life worth living.

In the spirit of these thoughts, I'll try to get caught up in this blog and in this world-one "whatever it is" at a time.  I will try not to be paralyzed by the data overload that life has become.

Side note--I don't want to go off on a tangent, but it is fitting here to mention an article I read this morning on my phone in between experiences.  If you read this you'll understand why the previous sentence has its relevance.  http://www.nytimes.com/2010/08/25/technology/25brain.html?_r=1&ref=technology .  We've created a world of action without time for reflection.  And that makes a brother tired and without the strength to get back to blogging--which is really a modern way of reflecting and processing the data of life.

Time to slow down a sec and look at my one thing.  EGB.  If you want to know about passion and one thing spend some time with a two year old.  Their wants are strong and focused, but fleeting at the same time.  It's a beautiful thing that we can all learn from.  Want something really bad.  Get it or maybe not.  Then move on.  Start the cycle over.  It's raw and efficient, but somehow romantically primal.

So yes there is lots to share.  It's been a sweet summer on the trail, in the house, in the mountains, and with my blessed family.  It will flow over time.  Until then, check out this video of EGB going after her one thing until something more powerful takes over.  I'm not really sure what she wants.  She's not very clear about her desires.

Email subscribers go here to see video:
http://bohrmanfamily.blogspot.com/2010/08/i-have-been.html

It's Friday In The Jungle

A big summer recap is due.  Later.  It's always later.

One day I'm just going to open my eyes and it's going to be EGB's wedding day or something crazy like that.  And I'll wonder where did all the time go?  It all got bottled up, sold to cyborgs, and is being traded on the interplanetary memory exchange black market.  I'll just have to deal with it then.

Until then.  I'm memorializing memories right here on this humble space.

Happy Friday!

I hope you party with the dogs and sleep with them.  EGB does.

A Snippet of Summer

We've had a brief hiatus due to summer time.  Basically it means I got out of the basement and into the woods.  A full recap of our camping adventures, meetings with friends, and EGB wildin' real soon.  Until then....It's summer time.

Get on that tutu and hit the water with style.

Start a fire, cook something good, and eat it real fast.

Go for a hike and put your sweaty cheek on some neck.

Life on Friday

It's Friday.  Which is only 7 days until next Friday.  So it's almost always Friday. Life is grand.

We had a blast over the 4th. Lots to share.  But I'm not really into sharing these days.  More for me.  I'm hungry.

If I get in a more sharing mood later I'll maybe give you some.

Until then take it off and run for the hills.

Happy Friday and Fourth of Juuuuuly

Happy Friday as we enter into the July 4th weekend. Can't believe it's July, 2010. I can't believe a lot of things. Sometimes I can't believe we have a kid. Speaking of a kid, here was the conversation yesterday while brushing EGB's teeth:

(Frustrated because I can't effectively brush EGB's teeth as she keeps biting the toothbrush)

Me: Quit biting your toothbrush.

EGB: No, I wanna taste it.

Me: OK, then what does it taste like?

EGB: French fries.

Me: Huh?

I don't know what that means, but she may be on to something. I'm thinking caffeinated french fry flavored toothpaste is the future. By the time you get done brushing your teeth you'll be jacked up and have awesome french fry breath. But you didn't really eat french fries. Get it? I'm patenting it.

Well enjoy this weekend. Be safe. (For the record, I don't think I've ever acted any safer as a result of someone telling me to "be safe". I'm not sure why we say it, but I do mean it. So I guess better advice then "be safe" at this point would be, "If you have a lighter in your hand right now and have the intention of shooting a bottle rocket at another person. That's not really safe so don't do it." I think that's better.) So get out there, drink cheap beer and enjoy some charred meat. Happy Fourth.

EBB's advice is to rob a bank with a smile.

Take your shirt off and ride a duck.

Take a walk and contemplate dinner plans.

Eat bananas and love the earth.

Support your local business.

And don't forget that we were all once bald headed divas. At some point we all grew up and became full haired divas. There's a big difference.