Montana Photos Without People

Aidan's Early Birthday

Aidan's real birthday is December 23. That's just a couple of days before Christmas if I may state the obvious. To give a little extra joy to our extra little guy we usually have a party for him before the big day. This year we had the party while we were in Montana to allow the Montana relations the honor of celebrating his birthday.

The Safeway cake.

Abigail, Kinsey, and Bella wait.

Aidan and his adoring father.

Too much excitement.

The little monster.

The kids.

Another Helpful Hint

Always trim your toenails right after you get out of the bath or shower.

Hunting is Not Necessarily Finding

On Tuesday morning I woke up before dawn, put on all of my warm clothes, and climbed into the truck with Dad and Brandon. We drove about an hour west of here to National Forest land to an area where we would likely find deer and elk. The temperature was in the low twenties as we donned our orange safety vests, loaded the rifle and began a silent walk up a gated logging road.

The sky was just starting to lighten. The deer and elk are most active at dawn and dusk. We walked about two and a half miles up the frozen road until we came to trail that led up a draw in the forest. There were several tracks and piles of poo on the trail so we knew it was used by the animals.

We climbed up the steep trail about a hundred yards and sat down to wait.

After waiting about twenty minutes, we decided to head back to the truck. It was getting too late to find anything.

We got back in the truck and began the slow drive back to the highway. Brandon had the rifle in the front seat in case we saw anything from the road. As we approached the highway, I saw a cow elk run down the side of the hill, cross the road about 50 yards in front of us and then race across a field to where two other cow elk where waiting. We couldn't shoot her. I was amazed at how large the elk was.

I realized during my first time hunting (at least for animals) that it is a lot like hiking except you wear an orange vest and carry a rifle.

We've heard that many hunters are having a hard time finding anything. The deer and elk are still mostly in the high country.

It's Not Really a Trip to Montana...

...until you get a cracked windshield.

Road Trip 2008 Day Two

Mom and Dad at their 40th anniversary dinner.

Sara and Katie

Brandon

Judy

The kid's table.

Road Trip 2008

We are currently in the midst of our trip to Montana. Here are some photos --

We got an early start. My alarm went off at 5:00. Abigail walked in minutes later.

Aidan in one of his trademark "moods."

The Virgin River Gorge on I-15 in Arizona. We stopped to take photos of the spectacular scenery.

A photo of Tab holding the camera.

The new In-N-Out in Washington City, Utah was a little crowded. It was worth the wait.

We ate our hamburgers in the car.

Here's a photo of a truck-driver walking his very large rottweiler at a rest stop in southern Utah.

We made it to Pocatello, Idaho at about 9:30 Mountain Time. It was a long day in the car. We kept the children occupied so they didn't whine too much. Tab pulled out her lap-top and played Mah Jong for part of the trip. I marvelled at the GPS capability on my iPhone.

Tomorrow we are driving the rest of the way to Grandma and Grandpa's house. It's their 40th anniversary. They must be getting old.

Post Script:

Today is the one year anniversary of Cast Iron Skillet. My posting has slowed down a little from the frenetic pace at the beginning. I'm a little busier at work now so I can't just post willy-nilly. Thank you for reading.

Road Trip 2008

I haven't had a vacation since this time last year. I need a break. I have the next two weeks off. I thought it appropriate to pack the wife and kids in the Jeep and head up to Montana. We leave bright and early tomorrow morning and will drive 800 miles to Pocatello, Idaho. I can't tell you how much I have been anticipating the trip.

I'll post photos as we go. Stay tuned.

That's Not Ironic At All

Let's say you've just posted a photo of your young son wearing only his diaper and your wife's much-too-large-for-him cowboy boots. It's a funny, cute photo that you've saved with the title, "Nearly Naked Cowboy."

And then you get a comment on the post. Comments are a fun way to interact with your readers. I love comments.

But this is someone you don't know. This person has posted a comment under a name like, "Live Nude Ladies" (not the real name).

I'm a curious sort. I think for a moment that this is possibly somebody I know. A name like "Live Nude Ladies" is kind of funny. If they have a blog titled "Live Nude Ladies" that is nothing about live nude ladies -- that's funny. I mean, my blog isn't really about cast iron skillets.

I love funny. I love ironic.

So being a diligent blogger, I follow the trail to the blog "Live Nude Ladies." Much to my surprise, it's a blog of nude ladies. Nude ladies hiding things.

That's not really very funny. At least it's not ironic in any way.

I write a family blog. So I deleted the comment. I don't usually delete comments (I think this was the first time).

The moral of the story is: don't use the words "naked" and "cowboy" in titles of photos of your kid lest someone trolling blogs for references to porn leaves a link leading back to a pornography site.

No Caption Needed

Sometimes I Wonder

Every Monday, Aidan stays home with me. Our day begins when we take Mommy to work and then Abigail to school. Then we come home and watch a little Sprout while Daddy reads the morning papers. Aidan usually uses this time to pull all of the toys out of the toy box and scatter them across the family room floor.

I know I'm supposed to love my children unconditionally. But when I hear "No" for the eighteenth time...

"Get down from the couch."

"No."

"Don't swing the bat in the house."

"No."

"Leave the cat alone."

"No."

You get the picture.

...

We ride in the car and he asks to have the window down. He gets angry and throws his cup. And then cries for his "cuppy." When he doesn't get his way he starts to scream.

I want to punch him in the face. Sometimes.

...

And then tonight after the twelfth tantrum of the day, he snuggles up to me on the couch. I start to think he's a sweetheart.

...

But then it's time for bed. He says he doesn't want his blankets on. And then he asks for his blankets. He says he wants the door open. And then he wants it closed. And then he wants it open part of the way. He wants the light on. He wants the light off.

So I leave the door open with the light on.

I hear him playing in his crib. His imagination bringing his stuffed monkey and lion to life. He talks and talks until finally... I hear nothing.

I look in the bedroom and he's asleep, lying sideways in the crib, his blankets pushed to one side. He looks so innocent and peaceful.

The iPhone

When I first heard about them I wanted one very badly.

I know, I know. I'm a victim of marketing hype.

I decided to wait a while. I coveted the iPhone but by waiting a while I could feel less like a shallow materialist. So I waited.

The first generation iPhone came and went (that thing was really expensive). And then the 3G iPhone came out. Better, faster, cheaper (what's not to love).

But I still waited.

And then one day Tab tells me she wants a new phone to replace her old Razor. We go to the store and buy her a Blackberry. I almost got one but I wasn't eligible for an upgrade yet. So I waited. I can't believe I almost settled for a Blackberry.

I went back a few weeks later. Still not eligible. So I waited some more.

My eligibility date came and went. I continued to wait, proud that I had such strong self-control. And then I folded like a cheap suit.

Now I have to figure the thing out. It does connect with my wireless network at home which is pretty cool.

It's a Little Late...

...but here is proof we actually got rain the other day. I was so happy.

The Big Day

I just returned from casting my ballot. Abigail had been expressing an interest in the election so I decided to take her to the polling place with me. Abigail said she wanted Barack Obama but then she isn't old enough to vote. I think she enjoyed herself.

In the last two elections I felt like my choice was between suicide by shotgun or train. This time around I feel much better about my choice.

Much better.



PS. Sonic Youth flossing ROCK!!!

Conservatives Don't Make Great Art

How many of the great artists were by nature conservative? I mean by disposition and not necessarily politics.

I can't think of any.

Most of the great artists were guys (or gals) living on the margins of society. They ran off to Tahiti, sliced off an ear, drank to much, consorted with drug addicts and prostitutes and generally raised hell.

In other words, not the kind of people you would trust to do your taxes (conservatives make great accountants).

To be a great artist you have to push boundaries. You have to be willing to take risks. You have to be willing to face the scorn of society. Conservative people are usually not willing to do this.

I'll never be a great artist.

What the Floss Did You Say?

I was listening to NPR tonight when they had a story about an upcoming Supreme Court case about the "F" word (FCC vs. Fox). I have to admit that I have been fascinated with the "F" word for some time now.

The "F" word has been around for a long time but didn't really enter into the lexicon in a big way until World War II. It's a word that can be used in every part of speech. It's a noun, a verb, an adjective, and an interjection. NPR couldn't say the word so they substituted "floss" for the nasty word.

I haven't been able to think about anything else since then.

"Go floss yourself ,you mother-flosser."

"Dude, you're flossed."

"Floss you!"

"Get the floss out."

"Floss the world." (for the punk dental hygienists)

And...

..."Want to floss?" (I prefer waxed)

I will never be able to hear "floss" again without snickering. Thanks NPR.

Huh...What!!!

If you really want to wake up a passed-out drunk, tugging on his armpit hairs isn't enough.

You've got to dig your knuckles into his sternum. That'll do the trick.

Just remember to pin his arms down first.

What Have I Done?

It's Judy's fault.

She told me to check out her Facebook.

So I did.

And I saw lots of people I used to know.

So I signed up.

And now I check my e-mail every few minutes.

Someone else might leave a comment or add me as a friend.

Facebook is so cool.

I love you guys.

"That's a Bad Word"

Abigail's homework assignment was to pick three words that rhyme with "truck" and write a sentence for each word.

Her first word was "luck".

She then tried "book" but that's only an approximate rhyme.

Her next word rhymed with "truck".

I asked her to repeat what she said.

She did.

"Sweetheart, that's a bad word. We don't use that word." I can be a very good father sometimes.

I had a feeling this might happen when I saw the assignment.

Soup Time

Now that Autumn is here and temperatures have dropped into the upper 90s, I decided it was time to make Navy Bean Soup. It turned out pretty well. I used 2 pounds of Navy Beans but I think one would have been better. Now I have enough soup to feed an entire ship full of hungry sailors.

Navy Bean Soup

1 pound navy beans (soaked)

1 pound ham (chopped)

1/4 cup chopped onion

1/2 cup chopped carrots

Salt

Pepper

Garlic Powder

6 to 8 cups water

After the beans have soaked, combine all the ingredients in a large pot and simmer until the beans are tender. Enjoy.

That was easy.

Sunday Photos

I was playing around this morning with the macro setting on my camera.

Sexy?

Tab was looking for a Halloween costume the other day. She had a hard time finding a costume that wasn't prefaced by the description "Sexy". There were costumes for Sexy Nurse, Sexy Maid, Sexy Cop, Sexy Doctor, and Sexy Hooker. Tab's already got Sexy Schoolteacher covered.

We started thinking about other "Sexy" costumes for the ladies. How about a Sexy School Lunch Lady, or a Sexy Taxi Driver, or a Sexy Stenographer. Perhaps a Sexy Administrative Assistant or a Sexy X-ray Technician. Or a Sexy CEO. I think Sexy Mortician would be a perfect Halloween costume for a daring young lady looking for a good time on October 31.

I'm just going to dress up in my usual costume on Halloween. I don't have any specific plans but I'm sure I'll be going to a lot of parties.

I won't be bringing beer.

Shouldn't You Be in Bed?

It's about 12:30 in the morning. I had to run down to work to drop off some papers. On my way home, I stopped at my local 24 hour Walmart to see if there was a new issue of "Woodenboat" magazine.

I didn't find "Woodenboat" but I did find some people shopping with their infant and two toddlers.

Let me give you a moment for that to sink in.

...

...

Can you believe I went to Walmart?

Crazy!

Chuck's Belly

It used to be a little bigger.

And it had more stuff inside.

It's Never a Good Time...

... to get detained by the police. You're either very thirsty or you have to pee really badly. Sometimes it's both.

I Love This Country

In the circles I run in, you hear a lot about how "We need to take this country back for God" and "This country was founded on Judeo-Christian values." I'm not sure what "Judeo-Christian values" are but I'm pretty sure they don't include animal sacrifices, polygamy, and stoning.

Evangelical Christians have had unprecedented access to political power for the past 30 years. Jimmy Carter, for all of his Southern liberalism, was a "born again" Christian. The religious right rallied to thrust Ronald Reagan into the White House. Evangelicals turned the Democrats out of Congress in the 90's and helped George W. serve eight years in office. Evangelical pastors have had the ear of the president and Congress for a while now.

To what end?

The past thirty years have seen a continued erosion of "Judeo-Christian values" in this country. Divorce, drug use, pornography, teen pregnancy, gay rights, abortion.... The list goes on.

All of this political power has netted Christians in this country nothing.

Vote for whomever or whatever you think is best in November but don't think it's going to stem the tide. It's time Christians started leading by example and not by legislation.

Pants

Yep, it's that time of the year again. Time to dust off those blue jeans and put away the shorts.

Well, I won't be putting away the shorts but I will be wearing pants every now and again.

When I was in Junior High I had one pair of blue jeans. They were Levi 501's. Mom washed them on the weekend and I started wearing them on Monday. I'd run around all day in them and wear them again the next day. They would get progressively softer as they got dirtier through the week. By Friday, they were kind of gross. When they wore out I got a new pair.

I used to dream about having more than one pair of blue jeans to wear.

I'm a little particular about the jeans I wear. I don't like them too loose or too tight. I don't like them too long or too short. I like to have a pocket for my cell phone. I like to wash them often.

I got my 2008-2009 pair today.

I may buy only one pair a year but I don't wear them everyday and I don't wear them out like I did in Junior High.

It Must be Autumn...

... cause I've got ropey clumps of phlegm dripping down the back of my throat. There's nothing like hacking up a mouthful of phlegm in the middle of the night.

It's beautiful.

The leaves are changing. The Santa Anas have arrived to make every firefighter think that there might be enough overtime for a great Christmas this year. The air has that cool crispness. The A/C stays off and I start to think about firing up the furnace. I get to wear long trousers. And a sweatshirt. And rain, sweet rain, the gift from above, is just around the corner.

Here in So-Cal we have two seasons: Summer, and Not Summer. We are finally coming into Not Summer, my favorite time of the year.

Except for the phlegm.

Forty Years Ago...

I remember when "Forty years ago" was a long time ago. That was when Grandpa was in the South Pacific during WW2 or they brought electricity to rural America.

Now "Forty years ago" is just a couple of years before I was born.

Soon "Forty years ago" will be personal memories.

Dang!

His First Splint

Aidan sprained his wrist last Friday playing at McDonald's. Two hours at Kaiser, a healthy dose of radiation, and a little fiberglass and Ace wrap makes it all better. We took the splint off last night (he needed a bath) and haven't put it back on.

Watching him jump off the rocks at the Canyon Crest Starbucks today, I was thinking this won't be the last splint.

She's Been Waiting for the Day

Tab has wanted a place where she could go and work on her art away from the hustle and bustle of her needy husband and children. She had hoped to use part of the garage, but the garage is the repository of all the junk acquired over 12 years of marriage so there wasn't much room left for creativity.

And then I told Tab about an article in the New York Times about hip-young couples buying prefab modernist sheds to put in their backyards. They use these sheds/studios/retreats/playhouses/get-aways to store stuff, create art, retreat, play, or get-away. What a cool idea.

This mention along with an idea long-simmering in her mind caused a flurry activity now known as the "Great Backyard Structure Search" (the GBSS). About two weeks later, Tuff-Shed built a not so modernist 10 foot by 12 foot shed in our backyard.

She really likes it. Now I just have to fulfill my promise to get electricity to the studio.

Complex Economic Problems Explained Simply

You might have read detailed breakdowns of the economic issues facing this country. It's all a bit too complicated for my non-mathematical mind to take in.

I can however tell you the root of this crisis:

It all started when I got my first credit card 16 years ago in college.

Way to go Wells Fargo!

How Did This Happen?

I've tried to be a progressive parent committed to the non-violent resolution of conflict. I don't watch gratuitously violent movies, play bloody video games or allow my children to watch violent cartoons.

And yet I have a two-year-old son who runs around the house yelling "Pam, pam, pam."

The only toy gun he has is a Buzz Lightyear laser pistol and he doesn't even play with it. But every "L" shaped object in the house becomes a gun.

"Pam, pam, pam." He chases the poor old cats and shoots them.

"Pam, pam, pam." He intrudes upon my quiet time in the bathroom and shoots me.

"Pam, pam, pam." He shoots his big sister.

"Don't even think about it mister." He even tries to shoot his mother.

Do we have a proto-serial killer in our midst? Is he going to grow up to be a drive-by shootin' gangster? Is he going to be a flat brimmed baseball cap wearin', saggy shorts saggin', jacked up pick-up truck drivin', wife beater sportin', MMA fightin' knucklehead when he gets older?

I hope not.

Mmmm!.. Donuts

Donuts are an American institution. What is more American than little round blobs of dough dropped into hot grease and fried until they're fluffy on the inside and golden brown on the outside.

You might think that I eat donuts all the time. I don't. They're a rare treat.

I took Tabitha and the kids for donuts this morning. Abigail got a glazed raised, Aidan picked out a rainbow sprinkle, Tabitha got an apple fritter, and I got a glazed old fashioned and a crumb (yes, that's two for those of you keeping track).

Donuts are pure sugary bliss. Sure, I can feel my heart struggling as if it's pumping blood uphill. I'll make up for it by eating something healthy sometime.