My Dog’s Pot Club
Recent changes in our elderly Jack Russell Terrier had me looking for treatment alternatives.
daily life
Two Books
As a somewhat introverted person, my different roles sometimes feel like parallel lives. I’m a father, a son, a husband. A web producer, geek, proud member of the PTA. I’m a gay man, a political moderate (not easy!) and have my level 2 Reiki certification. But perhaps my most solitary, private role is reader. Absorbed in a book, I…
Death and Cookies
The girl scout industrial complex landed this week and there was nowhere to hide. Of course it’s my own fault. Last year Shayla got excited and we sold lots of cookies. When the Troop needed a Cookie Manager, it seemed harmless enough. Why not store a few cookies in the garage and help out? Fast forward:…
Getting My Walk
The rains keep coming, and if it’s not the full solution to our drought, it’s a step in the right direction. Besides, I love the rain. Nothing like a few hours of quiet, reading the paper, enjoying the rain outside… Oh. Maybe I mean I loved the rain before kids (BK). I’m sure even BK I…
You Can’t Go Home
We had a lovely Thanksgiving visit with Grandpa Ted and Grandma Mary, packed with adventure. We joined 40,000 in a downpour for the Austin “Turkey Trott,” the one mile kid version, raising funds for local housing and food services. The kids dug for genuine Texas dinosaur bone casts buried beneath a giant sand pit at the Nature…
Goodbye Mr. Bubbles
As Woody Allen put it, “If you want to make God laugh, tell him about your plans.” Our little baby rat, Mr Bubbles, rescued from our psychopathic cat at maybe a week old, eyes still closed, improbably stayed alive, fed by hand with milk from a dropper. He was thriving. Don’t fear, he’s alive and well. But…
Animal Story
In my (priviledged) experience, you have to look pretty hard in Berkeley to find somebody who’ll object to gays, or two guys raising children, polytheistic and vegetarian. (We’re actually omnivores, that last bit just an example). I don’t think my expressive dance therapy, Ojai psychic, or Reiki training could manage a rolled eye for at…
Getting Over the Hump
I don’t know if it’s because I tend toward the depressive, or if it’s just a human thing, but there’s a moment early in most projects when I feel pretty sure it won’t be worth it. Today it was getting the bike racks on the car, and the bikes onto those, the kids into the car, the car…
Flying, Prepared
I thought I’d be one of those prepared dads, with a little pocket screwdriver, duct tape, some crayons and a bunch of grapes at the ready. But I often fail to have even the essentials. This is compounded by the new math. Getting two kids to one school at the same time sounds easier than getting two…
Having Power
Yesterday there was rain in the air, and that’s a good thing for parched Northern California. But the gutters were choked with leaves, and I’d put off getting up there and dealing with it. I had two hours before my next client call, so I got the ladders and went to work against the elements, sweeping away a million…
My Life Not In The Theatre
I had such a vision for my family enjoying culture and the arts. I’d get dreamy seeing young kids at the museum, or when friends brought a baby to a party. It gave me a refreshing hope that creative parents can keep their lives going and integrate the kids. If they can do it we can do it, right? Right?…
The Baby
I can remember only a few things about kindergarten. Making paintings with string, all of us in our painting aprons. Somehow getting poor Mrs. Gibson in a conversation about whether God exists. (She and my mother became lifelong friends, so whatever that was about they worked it out.) I barely remember how it felt to…
Treehouse Summer
I love the cool, foggy Bay Area weather, but I lose track of the seasons. Rain means fall or winter, but chilly and overcast could be any day of the year. I wilt in real heat, but sometimes I miss signs of summer. So I was thrilled when my friend Mark insisted we get going…
Camp Dreams
One: Getting Here It’s hard to remember, with the weeks of excitement and anticipation leading up to family camp, that what I should be reminding the kids, at least the older ones, is that the first day of camp can be tough. Not for Jaden. Our 4-year-old is at home everywhere we’ve ever taken him….
Please, Anybody But Me!
I was startled today to realize that I’d been comforting my daughter for a few minutes without really taking in, or taking seriously, that the tragedy at hand was that she had to ride with me to swimming, not her beloved Papa. (“Not Daddy, noooo! I always have to go with Daddy! Why do I never ever…
Being a Dad Means Having More to Lose
The above is not a photo of tragedy, neither kid got hurt. But I can’t help looking at my son flying through the air and imagine crash landings and disaster. There’s been a lot this week reminding me how fragile and precious life is. Oliver Sacks’ essay on learning he had terminal cancer was like a kick…
My Miranda July Superbowl
The best part about reading fiction, maybe any book, is the way a wonderful writer stays in your head. For a few days after finishing a book, it feels like I have some special goggles on, still half in the world of the novel. This weekend it was Miranda July’s The First Bad Man, and let me…
Thank You for the Yucky Food
I know it’s developmental. Kids are wired to be self-centered, and part of our job is to help them understand there are other people in the world. Sometimes they impress me, like when Jaden insists on bringing his big sister a treat if he’s getting one. Haircut lolipop? He’s got an absolute code of honor…
Growing Up Fast, Part 16
My babies are growing up sooooo quickly. I took Jaden in for his haircut and AJ said “he’s shooting up so fast, next to go are those chipmunk cheeks. Broke my heart when my baby lost his.” Four-and-a-half and the baby face goes? Please say it isn’t true. Shayla is on the last kid’s shoe size, and…
Drawing the Future
I’ve been thinking about a sketch I did years ago. In another life, really. Surrounded by sick and fearful friends, I immersed myself in what you might call the California New Age curriculum. We talked about our feelings, drew them, danced them. A skeptic would have a lot to make fun of. A believer could be changed forever….
