Aug 1 2011
One of the things we love to do is find trees with holes in them, and imagine who lives there.
At Grandma’s house there is a perfect hole in a tree, which would be great for the saucy squirrel who lives nearby.
At Filoli in the olive orchard (pictured) there are so many nooks and crannies in the trees it must surely be someone’s home.
Perhaps elves or gnomes, or relatives of the mice of Brambly Hedge?
Jan 7 2011
Lucy: “Daddy, lie down and pretend you’re at French Fry town.”
Daddy: “OK.”
Lucy: “Welcome to French Fry town. Can I take your order?”
Daddy: “I’d like some…french fries!”
Lucy: “We’re all out of any of the good stuff.”
Daddy: “Oh…well, what do you have?”
Lucy: “Ummm….mushrooms.”
— Playing with Lucy
Lucy is always asking us to tell her “make up stories”, tales where she comes up with a scenario and we provide a fitting story. The stories always seem to feature our cat, Wubie.
So yesterday when the kid asked for a story I decided to grab my microphone and hit ‘record’.
“Okay, what do you want to hear?” I asked.
“Wubie gets in a carrying case that floats into the sky and Bundle chases it in her rocketship” she answered.
Instead of asking her what a carrying case was, I just thought “brown paper grocery bag” and told her a story. Afterwards, I dumped the recording into GarageBand and added a few foley-ish sound effects to the beginning. (I originally planned to add sound effects to the whole story, but decided it would take too long.) I had so much fun making it that I now have plans for a more polished recording, with an actual fleshed out story to start with and better overall sound quality. I think that’d be kinda neat. Anyway, here’s Lucy’s story:
Dec 25 2010
“I am watching you Daddy, with interest.”
— Lucy, looking over my shoulder as I work on a home project
Jill reads to the kid every day. Below is a snippet of a reading she did in October. I wanted to test out a microphone, so I plopped it next to them while they read “The Color Kittens”, a Golden Book. (The noise in the background is a noise machine that Jill can’t live without.)
It’d be great to get some complete book readings. I think I may have to record a few during the holiday break.
Apr 15 2010
One of the things we like to do with Lucy is make up stories. Not a day goes by where Jill isn’t improvising a tale for Lucy, and just about all of the stories are based on Lucy’s ideas. “Tell me a story about…Wubie’s food bowl on the ceiling!” Lucy will say, and Jill will dutifully start telling the story.
Another thing we like to do is illustrate Lucy’s ideas. We’ll gather in front of Lucy’s easel and she’ll start shouting out ideas like “We’re at the beach!” or “Wubert is in trouble with bumblebees!” As she does this, we’ll scribble frantically with crayons, hopelessly trying to keep up with our little girl’s imagination. Almost all of Lucy’s stories star Wubert, who usually plays multiple roles in each story. He’s also usually in some type of trouble.
Here’s one of Lucy’s stories…
“Doo is having a picnic at the beach with Wubert. They have a bucket and a shovel. They have cake. Wubert goes in the water (there are fish!) and Doo has to save him. Wubert’s sleeping. I’m tickling Wubert. I am walking with Wubert on a hill. I’m first. It’s really sunny, and there’s cake.”
Apr 1 2010
My dad’s birthday was on March 30th, so my family has been passing a few memories around via email. Here’s one:
When I was a kid I loved the stories my dad would tell about the subpar (i.e., dangerous, toxic) jobs he held before he joined the army. One in particular I always think about:
Dad got a job at some type of harvesting/cannery plant when he was still FOTB in 1945. There were lots of odd jobs that needed to be done in the day to day running of the place, so he didn’t have a clear idea of what he’d be doing until he actually reported for work.
On the day he arrived for work, he was told to report to the manager in charge of the machines that helped harvest whatever fruits and vegetables were in season. Dad dutifully went to meet the man in charge of the machines.
I can’t remember if it was on a factory floor or in the actual fields (probably the latter) but at some point Dad came across a row of fearsome looking machines. Each machine was a noisy, complicated piece of grease and rusty metal. Each machine also had a group of men assigned to it. Their tasks involved scooping up produce and depositing it into the gaping maw of the machine. As they did this, the machine’s teeth would tear and gnash at whatever they touched.
At the end of the row of machines, a man waved at Dad and motioned him to come over. Dad immediately walked toward him, gliding past each machine as it whirred and chopped. As he walked toward the manager, Dad notice something peculiar about the men tending to the machines. They seemed to be missing an inordinate amount of fingers and limbs.
When Dad finally reached the manager, he extended his hand. The man extended his own, a scarred mitt entirely composed of three fingers jutting out at unnatural angles.
“Good to meet you,” the man yelled over the din of the machines. “Let’s get you on a crew!”
Dad quit the job very soon after and joined the army within a matter of months.
Jan 8 2010
Sometime before the holiday break, Jill had a Monday morning appointment. Since someone had to keep an eye on Lucy for the couple of hours her Mommy would be away, I arranged to work from home.
“OK. Lucy’s still asleep. I should be back by 11. Are you going to be OK?” Jill whispered as she pulled on a coat.
“No problemo,” I replied, barely looking up from the glow of my computer screen. I motioned behind me to the large, dark-brown Siamese cat snoring in loud intervals from his favorite chair.
“Wubert and I have this covered.”
“Uh-huh,” Jill said (did she just roll her eyes at me?) as she waved bye and trudged to the door. “Call me if you need me.”
And she was gone.
“This isn’t so tough,” I thought as I picked up the cordless and called into a staff meeting. All was fairly quiet. The kid snoozed in the next room, Wubert snored contentedly next to me. I listened in to my call.
A few minutes into the call, Wubert stirred and slowly made his his way out of the room.
I muted my call. “Don’t wake up the kid!” I told him. He gave me a blank stare—and made a beeline to the sleeping Lucy.
“Wawaroooh! Wawaroooh!”
“WTF?” I quickly muted my phone and leapt from my chair, my sole purpose in life: putting the kibosh on some incredibly loud Siamese yodeling. As I entered Lucy’s room, I realized I was too late. The kid was now sitting upright, a scrunched up look of tired bewilderment on her face.
“Mommy?” she asked softly in an “I’m thinking about crying” tone. The fuzzy traitor stood right next to her. He gave me a blank stare.
“Good morning, kid!” I lied as I fantasized about dropkicking Wubert out a window. “Howzabout a cookie—and a Huckle cartoon?”
Though I was well aware this wasn’t the optimum morning routine for the kid, I knew I had to get back to my call in case any questions were being tossed my way.
With the kid situated in front of the TV with a schoolboy cookie in hand, I dashed back to my desk and unmuted my call.
I was in luck. I was just in time to give my weekly spiel.
After my spiel, the kid wandered to my doorway. Her schoolboy was long gone and she was now entirely awake.
“Race me, Daddy!” Before I could react, she’d turned and darted to the kitchen. “I win!” I heard her little voice sing from across the condo.
A few seconds later she was back. “Come on—race me, Daddy!”
But this time I was better prepared. Before she could sprint away, I sprang from my chair, gave her a quick sidestep, and started plodding my way to the kitchen.
“Ha! I’m winning!” I shouted back to her. “You can’t catch me!”
I reached the kitchen, giggling like an idiot. “I win!” I shouted happily as she found her way to our makeshift finish line. But before she could reply, we were both stopped dead in our tracks.
“Huh? What’s that? What’s going on?” the confused little voices said.
Lucy and I were both puzzled for a second. Where were those funny voices coming from? Then Lucy pointed at my hand. I looked down. In my hand was my unmuted phone. I was still on my staff call! I’d just (barely) beaten a two-year old in a foot-race to the fridge and about fifteen people had been listening in. I quickly muted the phone.
Luckily, I knew that at least a half a dozen people would be calling in to the meeting, so I remained silent and played dumb. Nobody would know who the dork on the phone was if I played my cards right. They’d just have a vague realization that it was someone out of the six. I was good with that.
A few seconds later, the meeting proceeded and I was off the hook for what could have been a pretty embarrassing moment. Crisis averted, I raced Lucy back to my office.
Feb 26 2009
I got to work this morning with an extra “shock” (sock). Here’s how I got it:
Most of my workweek mornings are solitary endeavors. Get up, get clean, get dressed, get out the door toward work.
Usually, my only company between the “getting up” and “getting out the door” part is Wubert (who’s a bit of a grump in the morning, but don’t get me started.) However, this morning was different. As I tightened my belt and laced my shoes, getting ready for another workday, a little visitor dropped by…
INT. BEDROOM – MORNING
DADDY stands, facing a closet door mirror as he finishes getting dressed for work. LUCY walks in, rubbing her eyes. She’s just woken up.
DADDY
(effusive)
Lucy!
LUCY
(sleepy)
Daddy.
DADDY
(pointing at his recently laced shoes)
Hi, Lucy! I’m getting dressed, just like you! See, I have shoes!
LUCY
(pointing at her own bare feet)
Shoes.
DADDY
(pointing at his cutting edge beige khakis)
Yeah! And I have pants too. Just like you!
LUCY
(patting her pajama bottoms, she’s more awake now)
Pants.
DADDY
(patting his polo shirt)
Yeah! And I have a shirt!
LUCY
(excitedly patting her striped shirt, the one emblazoned with a big cat face)
Shirt! Shirt!
DADDY
(putting on his jacket)
Yeah! Pretty cool, huh? Well, I’ve gotta go now, so—
LUCY
(quickly scanning her Daddy up and down)
Shock? Shock?
DADDY
(looking slightly more puzzled than usual)
Shock? Uhh—
LUCY darts from the room and returns just as quickly with her prize: a wilted sock from the laundry hamper.
LUCY
(huge smile, offering the sock)
Shock! Shock!
DADDY
That’s OK, kid. I already have—
LUCY
(smile gone, forceful look)
Shock! Shock!
DADDY
(finally realizing this is an offer he can’t refuse…)
Thanks, Lucy! Thanks a lot!
DADDY takes the sock, folds it gently, and places it in his pocket. Her job done, LUCY darts back out of the room.
Alone again in the room, DADDY grabs his backpack, badge, wallet, keys, and phone, taking a last look in the adjacent bedroom. LUCY is already back in her sleeping mother’s arms, falling asleep. DADDY leaves for work (stepping gingerly over the now napping cat.)
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