World Series of Assholes

As I promised in my last post about baseball, I managed to catch a couple games of the World Series. Because I'm from Michigan, I felt a bit torn about who to cheer for. I remember feeling this way as a young girl, when I was visiting my dad in Cleveland and we went to a game in which the Indians were playing the Tigers. "Who do you want to win?" I asked him, concerned (much like Jonah seemed when he asked who I'd root for in these games). "Oh, whoever wins is fine," my dad assured me. "It's more about team work and playing a good game. Whoever wins will deserve it."

What a nice way to look at things! That's how I felt on Wednesday night when Paulie and I strolled down to the Toad in the Hole pub to catch the game on the big, huge screen. My plan had been to wear my Tigers shirt and my Giants hat, but I couldn't find my hat. I thought I'd found it in Jonah's room, and grabbed it triumphantly, but when I put it on later I realized that it was actually a Jonah-sized hat (which explains why it was in Jonah's room, I guess). 

I didn't think my dual-team support plan being foiled would be that big of a deal. It's not like I live in the Midwest any more, where people will threaten your life if you dare like the team that they don't like. Personal opinions aren't always respected there. But hey, I live in California now! We're all about acceptance here! 

While at the Toad, we ran into our friend Joey and his son Skye. I'm assuming this was an exciting yet perplexing moment:

(they are not really related)

The sea of black and orange made me a little nervous, but no one seemed bothered by my presence. Still, there was nowhere to sit, so we headed around the corner to the much quieter, calmer Jack and Tony's. I was relieved that there were only a few people sitting at the bar, watching the game in a seemingly relaxed manner.  

Who should I cheer for??

After settling in with some friends, I went to the bar to order our drinks. There I encountered two Giants fans, and unfortunately there was a commercial on, so they weren't distracted enough to not notice me. Fan A saw me standing there and raised his eyebrows. "Tigers!" he said. "Huh." This made Fab B look at me. Fab B was a Very Mean Man. "Oh, shit" he said, (rather aggressively, I'd like to add). "You'd better turn that shirt inside out if you know what's good for you."

I looked at Fan A who seemed slightly nicer and shrugged. "I'm from Michigan," I told him.

Fan B was not letting my offensive choice of clothing go, and added "or just turn around so I don't have to look at you!"

I said to Fan A "yeah, I was going to wear my Giants hat too, so, you know--" but Fan B leaned over Fan A to interrupt with "well coulda shoulda woulda gets you about as far as....." I didn't hear the end of that surely delightful anecdote because my drinks arrived at that moment, so I picked them up, gave an exaggerated raising of the eyebrows to Fan A, and headed back to our table full of non-crazies.

Ah, sportsmanship! I wouldn't be surprised  if that guy was involved in initiating the Detroit-like riots in San Francisco after the Giants won the World Series. Thumbs up, folks! You showed us all what it means to be a die hard fan - with a good old-fashioned bus burning. Well done.

In all seriousness though, congrats to the Giants. Baseball is actually the one sport that holds a special place in my heart (thanks to those Indians games I went to in my youth). Until next season....

Do NOT Read This Post

I haven't written anything on this blog for a while.  Not because life hasn't been interesting lately.  Au contraire.  It's just been really gross.

There's a stomach bug going around Healdsburg.  It hit Liam and Finn on Thursday.  Liam started things off by painting the walls a nice shade of 'Oatmeal' and Finn filled 8 diapers with an impossible volume of grey diarrhea (I told you not to read this post)

The bug blew through here like a hurricane.  Quick and disastrous, or so I thought.

Last night, Saturday night, it hit Erin.  We went to the annual Healdsburg Community Nursery School "Wild Things" Halloween Fundraiser.  I know what you're thinking.  I was thinking it too never having been to such an event, but you'd be wrong.  We were both wrong.  It was FUCKING AWESOME!  Easily the best party I've been to this year.

Erin and I won the couples costume contest.  I assumed it was because the audience had never seen the original Star Wars poster performed live and with a gender reversal (Erin was Leia I was Han Solo sprawled, grasping her leg submissively while she held the power stance).  But, as I learned over coffee this morning from fellow attendees, it was Erin's splits that pushed the needle on the applause-o-meter.  I skinned my knees for nothing.

We got home that night before midnight and crashed, but around 4am I woke to the sound of Erin heaving up some very decent pre-school fundraiser appetizers.  It could have been the vodka tonics, or the jell-o shots, or the roach coach tacos at 11pm, but most likely it was the bug.  Poor Erin had a rough night and I was zero comfort.  The noise that she was making, while alternating bent over heaving with sitting and erupting (I told you not to read this) wasn't loud enough to wake me up but was loud enough to put me into that lucid level of sleep where you incorporate the sounds you hear into your dreams.  I can't remember exactly what I dreamt but I woke up sweating and certain I was going to be sick too.

But I wasn't sick.  In fact as of writing this I feel perfectly fine.  If it turns out that I dodged this thing it'll be the real life equivalent of when, in cartoons, the side of a house falls over and our protagonist is spared because he was standing where the window was.

Most likely karma will win over and I'll be in bad shape in the next couple of days.  I'm half assuming this is what will happen so I've been restricting myself to a liquid diet.  I figure if I'm gonna puke, I might as well be drunk, right?

Fortunately Erin has come around already.  You know you're feeling better when you're able to tolerate things that are disgusting.  For example Erin is already tolerating my brand of humor.  We just had this exchange:

Erin:  I'm planning your birthday dinner

Me:  Great!

Erin:  It'll be different than usual, but good different

Me:  Like anal?

Erin:  Exactly.

(I told you not to read this)

The boys are doing fine too.  In fact, since Erin is couch-bound and I'm terrified to touch anyone or anything in the house, they've spent this unseasonably hot day on the back deck getting soaking wet.  This is a good thing since, as Erin illustrated, our hygiene these past few days has fallen by the wayside.

Erin:  Ew

Me:  What?

Erin:  I just found a little...something.  You don't want to know.

Me:  Yeah I do.

Erin:  A little dried vomit on my chest.

Me:  That's going in the blog.

Lions and Tigers and Giants, Obama!

Monday night, after a long day of work and kids and writing, I finally logged onto my trusty news source: Facebook. And WHOA!!!!!! That thing had done a fair amount of exploding during my absence. Apparently there had been a baseball game (go Giants!), a football game (sorry Lions!) and a political debate (go Obama!).

I hate it when these things are happening. Don't get me wrong - I'm a big fan of hometown spirit and jovial camaraderie, and will probably even catch a game or two, in a pub, with friends, where we all know what is happening and can comment on it to people who know what our comments mean because they saw whatever we're commenting about. But holy foul ball from hell, Facebook has given free licence to people who love sports to assume that rest of us love them, as well. And that we actually know what they're talking about. And that we give a flying fuck.

I tried to address this once before:

Amanda Janik

October 14

Jesus christ you guys...I'm sorry, but after scrolling through a weekend's worth of status updates, all I wish - AGAIN - is that there was some sort of filter for completely random (to anyone not watching) sports references. Things like "YES!" and "Way to show 'em how it's done!" and "(Random Name)!" and "Swiiiiiiing!!!!!!" Aren't people supposed to gather in living rooms with bowls of chips and cans of beer and say this shit to each other in person? Come ON!

p.s. I love you all. Just not when sports of any kind are happening.

I got lots of supportive feedback (17 likes and 27 comments...only 3 of which were my friend Frank being sarcastic and once again giving me shit about how I write a stupid blog, which made no sense whatsoever in the context in which it was delivered. Still...*tear!*).

But of course the nonsensical gibberish sports shouting hasn't stopped. Take the following posts, for example: 

I get the first one...it means the Lions are playing football. Okay, that's easy. The next two are really confusing to me, though. I know it's deer season, but I have a feeling that second one isn't some sort of slang referring to being quiet in your tree, maybe pensively waiting for your kill...? And the 3rd one...was this supposed to be an inter-office memo that accidentally got recorded on Facebook instead? Woops!

Then there's this one: 

Um. I really have no idea. Nothing about any of these makes sense. The first one made me panic. What?! What happened?? Was there an explosion downtown? Should I gather my sleeping children and run for the hills from an alien invasion? WHAT HAPPENED?!?!

The second one is nice, I like that musical, too. Or wait, does that mean you went outside in the storm and sang some songs? That's pretty endearing, actually. 

I can only assume that the third is a Halloween reference. Something about zombies eating asses...?

I have no idea what the LOLing is about here

The first and second posts here were made by the same person. As you can see, they were made at the exact same time. This person first has a lot of enthusiasm about their baby. Then they ask to be put out of their misery, only seconds later! WHAT HAPPENED? What did your baby do?! I was really concerned!

Finally I got some clarification as to what all the fuss was about:

For the record, I'm rooting for the Tigers.
Because I already have a Tigers shirt. 

Apparently the San Francisco Giants won a baseball game. That is exciting! Also, the Tigers (a baseball team) are now Detroit's only hope, which leads me to believe that the Lions (a football team) lost their game. Both of these events are absolutely worth posting about during every single minute of the game. As is every sporting event that I and my fellow clueless non-fans get to read about at the height of every season. Thanks for sharing! Just a suggestion: Twitter might be more suited for such frequent, up-to-the-minute updates. Just...you know. So you know. Here's a link, please go sign up, and post away - as often as you want! It's encouraged over there.

The other exciting thing happening was the election. Apparently more people were watching the game, which frankly makes me a little bit nervous. If I could afford cable or internet, I'd have been watching the debate. As it is, I really enjoyed the highlights offered by my one friend who'd been watching. 

Ha! I do love a POTUS with a sense of humor...

Anyway, I'm just so happy that my old home state team (Go Tigers!!) is playing against my new home state team (Go Giants!), that's always fun...and that baseball season is almost over! And the election is right around the corner! (VOTE!) And for the love of god, don't tell me every detail about it. I. Don't. Care. 

Go team!

Vindication

There is nothing I wouldn't do for my boys, except become a firefighter.  This fact has plagued me with guilt long before I even had kids.  I knew I would some day, and I knew they'd be disappointed.  After graduating from the academy, earning my EMT, volunteering for ten years, and even getting a flippin' associates degree in Fire Technology, it seemed like a crime against my children that I'd bail on what is, as everyone knows, the absolute coolest job a dad could have, right?

WRONG!!!

Liam thinks firefighters are HELLA LAME!  Great GOD ALMIGHTY!!!  I AM VINDICATED!!!

Healdsburg fire department had an open house.  I volunteered there for a few years so when I took Liam I was at least hoping to score some "cool daddy" points for knowing everyone there.  What I got was so much better.  

We rolled into the place and everything was wide open for the kids.  All the trucks and engines were crawling with other kids, there were men and women in uniforms and turnouts, and they were even giving away free fire hats.  I stood back and waited for Liam to poop himself with excitement, but I got nothing.  I figured he was too stunned with the incomprehensible miracle of it all so I led him to an engine to have at it.  He climbed in obligingly, pressed a few seat belt buttons, and gave me a look that said "and?..."

Meh...

Yeah, I'm good.  Let's go make wine.

After ten minutes he was trying to drag me back to the car.  True story.  I effing love the little bugger.

I, Superhero

Yesterday morning the kids and I were walking to school -- well, most of the way to school. We parked about half way between my apartment and school and walked the rest of the way. Wednesdays are Walk & Roll to school days - we live too far to walk, Evie refuses to ride her bike, so this is what we can manage.

As we were walking, Jonah asked me what three superhero powers I'd have, if I were a superhero. He'd been following me around all morning, telling me intricate details of the clothes, personality and weaponry of each Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle. Lots of swords and nun-chucks and throwing stars and gloves with sharp blades protruding from the sides.

Then he moved on to robots with human characteristics.

Then he moved on to superheroes. I enjoy watching and listening to Jonah make up superhero qualities on the spot. He's pretty into it. He's been honing his skills for quite a while now and it's impressive to see them in action. The only skill that has taken some time away from superhero invention is his new found love for the arts of sarcasm and clever wit.

Anyway, after listening to his never-ending monologue on weapons and violent ways to kill your enemies, I chose my superhero powers carefully.

Mom: I'd like to fly. So, flying.
Jonah: Okay, flying is good...flying is good...what about your second?
Mom: Umm...World Peace Power
Jonah: Huh. Okaaaay.... and your third?
Mom: Laughter Bombs
Jonah: What?! What is a laughter bomb, anyway?
Mom: I drop one on my enemies, and it makes them stop what they're doing and just laugh for a while. Then they don't feel like being jerks any more
Jonah: (shaking head) Okay mom. (sigh) And what would your name be?
Mom: Hm...I don't know. Um, I guess...Super Panda
Jonah: (slaps hand on leg in exasperation) What, you're all big and fluffy like a Panda?!
Mom: No, I'd just wear a black and white suit. And cuddle people.

And, without missing a beat -

Jonah: How about if your superhero name is just Super Hippy?

Mom: (laughter!)
Jonah: Juuuuuuuust kidding, mom.

That kid kills me! Not in a superhero way - in a hilarious way. His ninja-like sneak-attack jokes and ninja-speed with comebacks will one day make him a force to be reckoned with. I can't wait.

Harvest 2012

The 2012 Bairdsmith Bros. harvest is done!  Check out the action...

Liam cleaning out bins in his jammies.  He actually helped this year (sort of), although teaching him how to operate the hose was a can of worms I probably should have kept closed.

Every time Erin brought in a bucket she would announce which number it was.  By the end she'd gotten up to 113!  This was particularly remarkable since, after doing the math, I figured she'd single-handedly picked 800 pounds more grapes than we ended up with.  Incredible!!

 Erin wasn't the only one picking (though she might as well have with her skills, right?)  Joining us was her sister Kat, Kat's manservant Neil (just kidding Neil), my father-in-law Bruce and our buddy Timothy.

A thing of beauty!!  Though, sadly, Erin's extra 800 pounds must have fallen out on the way home.

It took Liam a few minutes to realize he was sitting on a pile of candy.  We had to pry him off.

Totally not staged

It was a good harvest.  Back in the day I'd have to keep telling myself that the one full day of hard work was worth it because in the end we'd have a year's worth of wine to enjoy.  But with the boys' help I don't have to keep telling myself that.  I can't say I'd go through it without the reward of an ocean of booze, but they sure make it a lot easier.

Wuv, Twue Wuv

Last weekend Erin and I left our boys screaming in the arms of my parents as we set off for an all adult weekend.  We headed down to the land of palm trees and Spanish tile: Santa Barbara.  We were there for four days.  Four whole days.  It was awesome.

The people of Santa Barbara are interesting.  Everyone walking the streets appears to be either on their way to yoga, homeless, or both.  Also they seem to go out of their way to try and get run over by cars.  I'd have been fine with that (I'm all for Darwinism) but we'd borrowed my parents' car for the trip and returning it smeared with hippie blood was a poor way to return the favor.

We arrived Friday night.  Erin and I did our best to try not to miss the kids too much.  We figured the safest way to make the transition was to go out for an extravagant night on the town. Until that point we hadn't made any plans aside from simply getting beyond shouting distance from the boys, so the night was wide open.  Fortunately we had our friend Shane, who lives in Santa Barbara, to offer up some guidance.

I don't know if I've mentioned Shane in this blog before?  The short story is:  I'm a little gay for him.  I suspect Erin feels similarly because ten seconds before we met up with him I popped two mints in my mouth and Erin lotioned both of her hands (true story).

Before we called Shane to meet up with him we tried surprising him at his house but he wasn't home.  Instead we found a surprise of our own...

It's kind of hard to see but that's a skunk in his front yard.  I'm only sharing this non sequitur detail of our story because while Erin was taking this picture and remarking on how "cute" her shit-spraying rabid new friend was, I was using her as a human shield.  It wasn't my most chivalrous moment, but I didn't want to perform a wedding smelling like some rodent's ass glands.

Oh, did I mention we were in Santa Barbara to perform a wedding?  That's right, I'm a goddamn man of the cloth!  My good friends Dee and Drew had bestowed upon me the honor of marrying them.  They gave me carte blanche in authoring the entire wedding script too!  Although they did have a few addenda.  They preferred that I didn't do the voice from 'The Princess Bride' and they weren't "entirely comfortable" with me including my five minute ham-bone routine.  Instead that had me include a couple of Mexican wedding traditions such as the 'Lazo' where the bride and groom get tied up together, and the 'Arras' where the groom 'symbolically' gives all his money to the bride.  Mexican traditions are all about subtlety.

Saturday was a full day of rehearsing.  First we rehearsed the ceremony, then we rehearsed eating and drinking all day.  Sunday was the actual wedding day.  I did an okay job...I think.  My brief part had some spontaneous banter, a bit of humor that got a laugh, and even a little Spanish.  I felt like a bit of a spaz though.  Afterward I got some unsolicited compliments so I guess I wasn't too bad.  My biggest worry was that I'd do something stupid and ruin what was easily the most beautiful, fun, and blissfully romantic wedding I'd ever been to.  Erin and I unanimously agreed upon that.  Dee and Drew were amazing and the reception was absolutely perfect.  I kept catching myself walking around with a big goofy grin on my face because I was just so damn happy.

Erin had a great time too despite getting toxic chemicals sprayed directly in her eyes.  I was in the bathroom when someone started frantically banging on the door.  I figured someone had had a little too much  and needed the toilet for something awful, but when I opened the door a small group was escorting Erin with glowing green goo all over her face.  Apparently someone's fun little glow in the dark necklace had exploded right in her eyes.  Her EYES!!  She's blind now.

Just kidding.  She's a badass, and after a bit of rinsing she was back on the dance floor making me proud.  I think it was the magic of the wedding that kept her spirits up, but it may have been the guacamole.  I felt bad for not being there for her when it happened, but it was probably for the best.  If that toxic spray shot my way I likely would have used her as a human shield.

By the next day we had to hurry back home to the boys which was well-timed because, believe it or not, after four days we were actually going through some serious withdrawals.  Evidently Liam was too.  We found him pink-cheeked and in tears when we got back to my parents house in Berkeley that evening.  I guess he'd been inconsolable all day but luckily we'd had the foresight to buy him a few things before we got home.  Nothing cures a three-year-old's heartache quicker than Zachary's pizza and a new fire truck.  Finn, of course, hadn't even noticed we were gone.