hello brains!

2007-01-05T16:58:00.000-08:00

Springtime...and the seniors are jumping.

2006-04-20T17:37:00.000-07:00

Hop over to my school site to see what I've been up to.

And here's some pics of the girls:

The hair is human hair inserted one strand at a time

2006-01-09T18:43:00.000-08:00

I went to Arkansas over the break. The day before New Year's Eve. I went through Hot Springs first to pick up James and Anne, and then to Little Rock where my dad's group Sugarhill was having a pick.

We stayed all day and then ate at Star of India before driving back that night. James and I went out later for drinks at the Arlington and stopped to watch the ice skaters on the way. The city had brought in a mini-rink and positioned it downtown, outside, with the steam from the spring fountain nearby. Little kids sprawled out on the ice in varying degrees while a cool teenager zipped around with his shirt unbuttoned. A group of girls held up traffic for a photo op under the Christmas lights while their parents sat in the makeshift stands to the side.

We left when the music got bad and headed down the street to the hotel. Inside, we found a seat near the Christmas tree, probably 30 feet tall, all lit up. We ordered Old Fashioneds and listened to the band while the couple next to us -- an older guy with a youngish woman, all smiles and boobs -- cooed and danced and sat lazy-eyed. The band was one of those bar bands that you see in a hotel, but with one notable exception.

The guitar player was older than everyone else, maybe 75, and a serious player with jazz chops. We heard one lame song after another, cheesy standards mostly, but this old guy was just getting warmed up. By the time the band finally played "Mustang Sally," the liquor had kicked in and everyone else had all but disappeared, my narrowed vision focused only on the old guy and a small group of Japanese tourists.

The tourists take turns posing by the tree. As the group moves upstairs, a girl in her twenties and polyester pants lingers, trying to get a guy from her group to dance. The guy smiles "no." He won't do it; he's too shy, so she dances by herself, a sort of modified "pony." It's the 80's in Japan. I notice the old guy watching her; you can tell he's bored, and he doesn't like the short pony-tailed drummer, the fucking cheeseball. But then he tears into his solo like a lion on meat, ripping it wide open, to shreds. The song plays on, the crowd only mildly interested, but James and I are left with our jaws slack.

After playing their break song, a sort of Tonight Show theme, we went over to talk to the guy. Turns out he's from Little Rock (for 26 years now). There's not much going on Little Rock, he explained. A shame that more people don't get to hear him play. Ed Smith is his name. If you're in Hot Springs on a Sunday, he's playing from 6p-9p at the Brau Haus downtown; otherwise, it's Fridays at the Arlington.

The next morning we got up and went to Madame Josephine Tussaud's Wax Museum.

First, at the top of the oldest escalator in Arkansas, there's Jesus on the Cross. And directly behind him, his Last Supper. This made James very nervous. And as you walk into the alcove where DaVinci's painting is life-sized, music starts playing VERY LOUDLY.

The creepiest bit of the whole experience was hearing the horrific screams of the Hall of Horrors blended with the saloon piano of the Billy the Kid exhibit, that and the World of Make Believe, where Snow White's grin molests an overly ecstatic Happy:

Innocently, the staff had added Santa hats to many of the figures, which only heightened the weirdness. Santa Einstein didn't seem to appreciate the irony:

Satchmo Santa (with disturbingly light-colored hands, as if they're *yikes* not really his!)

King Santa:

Bollywood Clark Gable:

Next, we move into the Hall of Fame. The Clintons are there, of course, as well as the Royal Family and Lincoln.

Afterwards, we ate lunch at an Ecuadorian/Cuban place on the strip. I had Castro's favorite. It was lovely and quite tasty. About halfway through the meal, I felt the elastic pull of Monroe and the need to get on the road back to my family.

It was great seeing James and Anne. I miss them terribly, but now the distance has been marked and counted. It's not that far. Next time I'll take the whole family and we can all go to Magic Springs.

Thanks for the hospitality, guys. See you soon.

Equinox @ The Dixie Theatre

2006-01-09T12:44:00.000-08:00

Last weekend I played at the newly renovated Dixie Theatre in downtown Ruston.

It felt great and overall was well received. Friday was a private show for the "friends" of the theatre (the rich folk), and Saturday was a free show for the public (for the po' folk). Saturday, naturally, was better. The place was packed, and people danced. My students, about ten of them, came to see me play. Drove to Ruston, all dressed up. Some danced, even. Very cool.

Here's us backstage before the show:

We also had several guests... Lawrence Gibbs played the clarinet on a few tunes; actually, Friday was his gig -- all Benny Goodman, Artie Shaw, Big Band Era tunes -- for the first half of the show. He came back on Saturday to play some more, including the show's closer, "Sing, Sing, Sing," (which my students referred to as the "chocolate chip" song, from some TV ad).

The primary guest for the second night was a displaced New Orleans guy, Ted Ludwig, an unbelievably good guitarist. Seriously. The guy is good. He also owns one of the most beautiful guitars I've ever seen.

So, all in all, a good show. I'm glad it's over, but I had a ball. Evidently, there's going to be a DVD. And I taped it (on DAT). And there was a photographer there taking pictures, as well. You can see those at Josiah Kennedy's site (use the pulldown menu and select "Equinox Jazz").

I was one of those nights that remind me why I love playing music so much -- the energy from the other musicians, grinning ear-to-ear, the lighter-than-air floating that comes from riding on top of the rhythm. It comes all too rarely these days.

This is how I roll

2006-01-03T15:38:00.000-08:00

Simply the coolest video game ever: Katamari Damacy.

You might need some explinations? If not, then "hello"?

The blackbirds head south

2005-11-16T21:00:00.000-08:00

Yesterday, a front moved through, and on its crest, as if riding an undulating wave, blackbirds by the hundreds came and went.

Yards and sky both beset with throaty conversation. By evening they had passed on, a massive migration.

Now it's cold, and I'm certain the leaves will fall overnight.

Monk and Coltrane

2005-10-05T17:47:00.000-07:00

Every now and then you hear stories of lost treasures. I'll confess now that I'm rarely impressed by these stories. But just today I heard of something that made me feel genuine awe.

Apparently, in 1957, in New York, at Carnegie Hall, a Thanksgiving concert was staged by the Voice of America radio network. The show was well attended and featured some of the very best musicians playing jazz at that time. However, the treat of the evening was the Thelonius Monk Quartet featuring John Coltrane.

And until now, the record of this night was lost in the VOA archives. Never released, never aired, this is the only record of Coltrane's work with Monk at the end of their collaboration. Until now, only one recording, and not a good one. And we've never heard them this unified in purpose. They had been working at the Five Spot, playing regularly, breaking open the tunes and rebuilding night after night. Monk didn't use charts, evidently. You had to fly by the seat of your pants -- until you knew the tunes and could "play" with them.

Not heard since that night. And, on a shelf, in a box, on a reel marked "T. Monk," out of thin air, this brilliance. The recording is pristine and the playing is unpretentious. It's a wonder.

And the ball rolls on

2005-10-05T15:13:00.000-07:00

Why again do I have one of these damn things? I don't have enough time to catch up. So I won't. A brief summary of current occupations will have to suffice:

Sophie and Olivia have had their birthdays, now and 7 and 2, and Emme will soon be 4.

Both schoolgirls got to present drawings to the queen -- the homecoming queen -- and Sophie's receiving the "knowledge" award tomorrow morning. They're both in cheer camp this week. Yesterday was a marathon -- work, cheer camp, dancing and home at 8:00. Yes, they're both taking dance. Olivia's jealous.

Wendy is still moonlighting at the bar. I've played intermittantly since summer, most recently during Rita's wake, in Ruston. We played with generated power under Christmas lights on the back porch of a log cabin. And joining us was a monster guitar player who's been displaced from New Orleans. Otherwise, however, it's been pretty slow -- outside of school, of course -- a clock-like regularity dictating our day-to-day lives. School, work, football, drumline, dance, homework, grading, smoking, sleeping.

If I sound overwhelmed, I am. A bit. But it's like I explained to James once: I'm balancing my life on an 8-foot earthball, unstable but under control, hanging on, gasping for breath, yet strangely energized by the fear and the feeling that I'm creating life anew everyday.

Lafayette

2005-07-30T00:12:00.000-07:00

Yep, I'd move back in a heartbeat. Or to Arkansas, or even Georgia. Hell, I'm just tired of this town. Of course it's a temporary condition. I always feel this way when (a) I go out of town, or (b) someone I care about is moving. Both apply at the moment, so the feeling is strong. It could also have something to do with the fact that the school year is about to begin, and I know I won't think about much else for a while. Sophie's in first grade; Emme is in pre-K; Olivia's almost two, and Wendy is free for the first time in almost 7 years...

We've talked about moving before, but haven't got farther than a weekend of fantasizing about a place full of greener pastures -- good schools, good (like-minded) people. Then I'll go out in the backyard at night and look at my house with my wife and kids, in bed, asleep, fans blowing and AC turned down to 72, snug and safe. And I'm an emotional wreck.

And I think, too, of our friends and family that are here. The community surrounding my school, even, after only a year. My gig with Jeremy, especially on those nights when I get to lose myself in the music, creating something new. But the town, well. It kinda sucks a lot of the time. We have in town what could be the coolest riverfront in the state, along with what could be one of the coolest festivals, as well. But both are underutilized, underfunded, unsupported. There are some good things going on at the university, but the city is divorced from it, too wrapped up in opening new strip malls, by the mall.

So, Lafayette. They have a unified government, which means the money in the parish is unified, which means if you elect good people, then something can actually happen. While our city won't fund the Louisiana Folklife Festival, the city of Lafayette hosts the Festival International de Louisiane, bringing thousands downtown to their recently constructed stage and market. They have a huge Children's Museum, next to a newly located Museum of Natural History. There are many galleries downtown, as well as an Arts Center. Oh, and last when we were visiting, I learned about a new park/fountain, Parc Sans Souci (Park Without Worries). We took the kids and they got very wet.

We stayed with our friends Matt and Parv and their two kids, Charlotte and Vishwa. Matt and Parv are awesome people, both English teachers, transplanted from the northeast about ten years ago. They treated us like family and we had a great time. I went over to Wally's Friday night and then everyone met for lunch the next day at Deano's Pizzaria (home of the Cajun Executioner). Sophie and Charlotte became fast friends.

We actually got to go out Saturday night, without kids. My almost-sister-in-law Suzie (who owns the bar where Wendy's been moonlighting) has a good friend there, and they came over with cookies and popcorn and entertained the kids for us. Man, it was nice. We went to the Blue Moon Saloon and drank and danced to a cajun band (Dewey Balfa's daughter's band). The bar is just off downtown, a porch wrapped around a youth hostel. Afterwards, we went across the street to a place called Artmosphere, a sort of living room with couches and tables, with a bar attached, where our friend Kevin Gordon was playing.

Olivia now plays the accordian. Lil Pookie better step aside.

Anyway, it was a good trip. We need to go visit more often. Even now, after writing this, the burning desire to move has subsided, thankfully. Because I've got lunch to fix, the lit magazine to finish, summer books to read, ebay drum shopping to do. Friends are coming over tonight. The gravational pull of Monroe is hugging my pantsleg.

Not yet August, yet the end of summer

2005-07-29T20:45:00.000-07:00

Since when did the end of July become the end of the summer? It was even cooler today by at least fifteen degrees.

These last few days have been exhausting. Too much has happened for me to really process. First, we went to Lafayette. That's not what prompted me to post, although there's a lot say about that trip. It was good.

It's been a time of wonder and discovery for the kids, these dog days. Today, we saw a walking stick, biggest I've ever seen, as long as my hand. It was on the glass door of a Pizza Hut where we were attending a fifth birthday party. When we got home, after decompressing from the Jungle Gym (emphasis on "jungle," as in kids running around like maniacs, and where Olivia did not stop for two solid hours), after that we went outside. Partially to wake me up, but also to enjoy the weather.

Wendy was at her new job as a bartender and then went to host a women's wine drinking dinner (WINOS, Wendy calls it: women in need of socialization).

So I made some coffee and we headed outside. We got the bikes and the bubbles and the soccer ball. Sophie's getting good on the bike and I suggested maybe we could raise the seat and take off the training wheels. Maybe Emme should have hers, she offered, and she could get a new one for her birthday? Emme was on the scooter mostly, and Olivia rode the tricycle and played in the dirt.

Another part of this story is that Sophie just lost her front tooth, after many days of anticipatory wiggling. So, a big deal around here. She asked me if she looked funny, the beginnings of self-doubt. I told her she looked beautiful, which is true. The Tooth Fairy "exchanged" her tooth for a new notebook (pink, with little, round ornamental mirrors on the front). The next morning she began drawing and writing the epic story of a princess and a giant "wevre" bird.

So, she's riding her bike and circles back around to pick up a stick. "I think I recognize this stick. I bet it used to be a stick bug." And then, while riding away, on seeing one of the training wheels wobble, she says with her eyes wide, "Daddy, it's loose! I think I'll let it fall off on it's own!"

Emme is starting school very soon, and she feels like she's been waiting forever. My sweet sweet Emme. She feels so grown up. Wendy is going to be lost for a few days.

And just this evening, James came over to share some news. He's taking a job in Hot Springs, teaching at the state-funded high school for gifted students. Plus he's getting paid good money for the gig. So I'm happy on the one hand, of course. But terribly sad on the other, knowing "how way leads on to way," to quote an overused but applicable poem.

Yes, lots of change.

My Google Bio

2005-06-25T09:37:00.000-07:00

You've heard of this, I'm sure. You do a Google Image search for the following, and create a sort of random visual biography.

~ the place you grew up
~ where you live now
~ your name
~ your favorite food
~ your favorite drink
~ your favorite song
~ your favorite smell

So, here it is.

Where I grew up:

Where I live now:

My name:

My favorite food:

My favorite drink:

My favorite song:

My favorite smell:

It's Blueberry Season

2005-06-22T07:24:00.000-07:00

The other day we went blueberry picking south of town, and the girls had a blast. Wendy made pies and and a cake when we got home (cobbler and muffins to come, I'm certain), and all around it was a great day. Here are some pics:

First, Olivia was a real trooper. She picked her share.

Emme and Sophie had fun, too.

That's Sophie afterwards, drinking lemonade the guy had out for us. After the girls were getting hot and tired, he suggested that Sophie might be big enough to pour it herself. She was very proud.

Notice Emme's boots. She wore them the next day, too.

Olivia puckers up for a lemonade-blueberry kiss. You can see in her bucket that she did just fine on her own (only a few green ones).

Finally, our haul. He gave us gallon jugs with the tops cut off. The girls opted for their own buckets.

I should add that the next day was Father's Day, when I was presented some wonderful blueberry pancakes for breakfast.

Okay. It's June.

2005-06-07T20:00:00.000-07:00

Sheez. What a loser. I can't seem to keep this up for some reason. I just read a post on my friend Courtney's blog, and she says she has the same problem -- balancing an appreciation for the medium with a dislike for the process required to be a "member of the online community."

So, in an effort to contribute, here are some random updates:

I just had about 10 blessed days off.
In summary, that means late night movies and playing in the water hose.
Sadly, I'm now back at work.
That means summer school with teenagers.
Thankfully, at the moment I only have two students.
And we're reading To Kill A Mockingbird, my new favorite book.
I'm also working my way through the River Oaks summer reading list.
Which includes Life of Pi, among others.
And Gathering Blue, a lovely little book about the power of Art.
I went to the doctor for a post-vas check. Clean. One more to go.
Bought the new Beck a while back, and I want Coldplay's new one.
Heard and fell in love with Tord Gustavsen's minimalist piano trio.
Been avoiding the news like the plague.
Still have work to do on the River Oaks literary journal, Musings.
My 20th year reunion is in July. Yikes.
I'm 38.
And tired.
That's all the energy (and time) I have, in fact, at the moment.
To post, that is.
It's 8:00 and the kids are dancing.
Goodbye.

Oh, you're a wonder.

2005-04-21T18:42:00.000-07:00

We've been watching a lot of Wonder Woman lately. I got Wendy the DVD set for her birthday, and we've now watched about four of the episodes. The lead is played by a wonderfully cheesy Lyle Waggoner, who in the first episode crash lands in a tropical paradise populated only by buxom young women in white tennis skirts. No wonder I spent my adolescence in a state of constant erection.

Of course, now we watch for another reason entirely. My girls are digging the feminist-light message and the kick-butt action. They've been running around the house now for a week, wearing wristbands and deflecting pretend nazi bullets. Emme loves it when Wonder Woman beats up the mean guys and throws them in the trash; Sophie just thinks she's super-cool. And with lines like "Where I was raised, I was taught that women can do anything a man can do," I suppose she's not such a bad influence.

And as many times as I hear the theme song, I can't seem to get tired of it. It must have been arranged by the same guy who did the Rocky movies, and the lyrics are seriously cool:

Wonder Woman!
Wonder Woman!

All the world is waiting for you
and the power you possess
In your satin tights
fighting for your rights
And the old red white and blue

Wonder Woman!
Wonder Woman!

Now the world is ready for you
and the wonders you can do
Make a hawk a dove
stop a war with love
Make a liar tell the truth

Wonder Woman!
Get us out from under, Wonder Woman

All our hopes are pinned upon you
and the magic that you do
Stop a bullet cold
make the axis fold
change their minds and change the world

Wonder Woman!
Wonder Woman!

You're a wonder, Wonder Woman!

My daughter is the coolest

2005-04-20T19:20:00.000-07:00

This morning Sophie and I woke up and headed to the kitchen, our normal routine. Sometimes, if it's early enough, we both look at the clock to see how much time we have, and creep out of the house without waking anyone. We head to the coffee shop.

We both get excited at the thought, strange because I used to spend so much time at coffee shops, one in every town I've ever lived. Just me and a paper. But now it's something we do together, something that's ours. Sophie gets a cinnamon roll and eats the inside first, and I get the largest coffee they have. Her milk has a top like mine, and we sit and talk as she licks the icing off of her fingers.

This morning she asked me, "Daddy, how old do I look?" I know the answer. "Seven," I say, meaning it. She smiles and says "You look 29. How old are you?" Almost 38, I tell her. "Oh, you look 39." And I fall in love with her all over.

The measure and the Masters

2005-04-10T14:16:00.000-07:00

I'm on the third day of recovery and feeling more confident about moving around. I have defrosted, mostly, and put the corn back in the freezer.

Yesterday, it still felt like someone had kicked me in the balls repeatedly. You know, the way it feels up inside the stomach, like something inside has been squeezed and yanked. Thankfully, that sensation has mostly subsided. The tighty-whities do help considerably, but the catgut stitches keep catching and sending firecracker jolts out the top of my head. Maybe I'll try trimming them.

I don't know yet if I am going in tomorrow or not. I suppose I could, but my students would know exactly why I wasn't there Friday when they see me walk up. Which is probably common knowledge already, of course. Small school, and most of the teachers are moms of my students.

Right now, I'm reading Romeo & Juliet, watching The Masters, and considering, just considering, a stack of papers so I won't feel guilty.

The Levee

2005-04-10T08:06:00.000-07:00

The other day we went to the levee and slid down the hill on a cardboard toboggan (aka waxy appliance box). The girls were fantastic. All three wanted to go by themselves, and did with some help. Olivia bumped down on her own booty when the sled was occupied, saying "weeeee" all the way to the bottom. Two hours of kid heaven.

They made me proud of their adventurous spirit. It fills me with such unbelievable joy (and pride), seeing all of them together like this; I can only hope that they maintain some semblance of the relationship they have now for the rest of their lives. Think how lucky they would be.

The only downside: I split my best pants right down the middle. Daddy's a bit of a doofus; I hope it takes them a while to realize that much.

Olds Ninety-Eight

2005-03-25T20:51:00.000-08:00

Okay. I like my car. My 1986 Oldsmobile Ninety-Eight Regency Brougham. It was my grandmother's car, bought for her by my grandfather shortly before his death in 86. Then it was my Mom's car. It's a family car, its luxury faded, a comfortable couch. As mentioned, it has a CD changer in the truck. I like it very much, thank you.

On a completely different note...the life-size crucifix I was selling for my sister's father-in-law received absolutely no bids whatsoever.

Rylands

2005-03-17T09:05:00.000-08:00

First of all, I teach English,so I'm a bit interested in language and books. I'm also interested in my Anglo-Irish heritage, although little is known of my actual bloodline. When I poked around a bit, however, I did find some interesting info on my family's name -- first, that my direct ancestors can be dated to the early 17th century to a little town 15 miles from Stratford (home of Shakespeare). Nearby is Luxley. In other words, the area is ripe with literary/folkloric history.

Another interesting bit: The John Rylands Library houses "one of the most spectacular collections of rare books and manuscripts in the world," including the oldest known fragment from the New Testament. John Rylands, after whom the library was named, made his fortune farming cotton. It so happens that my grandfather made a name for himself farming rice and cotton, after returning from WWII. Our name itself suggests agriculture (Rye-Land), the crest featuring bundles of wheat.

Weird

2005-03-16T18:15:00.000-08:00

Okay, my sister asked me if I'd post something for her father-in-law. And, as you can see, it's pretty freaky. There's currently a set of three for sale on Ebay.

*Added note...he first insisted that I set the reserve at 2500.00, an impossible goal (I talked him down to was 1500.00), but one he insisted the Catholics would go for...yes, he's a baptist

By the way, in case you're wondering, Jesus is actually a female mannequin whose undergone a black & decker mastectomy.

Sunlight on the cusp of spring.

2005-03-07T18:43:00.000-08:00

We went to a new playground last week, and I took this shot of Emme. I'm proud of it.

We had an early spring break, which was very nice. So now I'm trying to get back into the right frame of mind for Huck Finn and Romeo and Juliet. And the constant yammering of teenagers.

My car died.

2005-03-07T16:38:00.000-08:00

I've realized recently that I'm feeling younger and younger every day. Kids will make you younger. You see through their eyes, experience things anew along with them. Being with my kids in the backyard can make me feel like a young Walt Whitman, like life really is full of everyday wonder. I believe in the power of children to open eyes and speak truth.

But that's not what I'm talking about. I'm talking about insecurity, about unhealthy regression. I sometimes feel like I've lost the ability to function properly as an adult. And that's not good.

Take my car, for instance. The engine seized up. The car's been smoking for weeks, but I put off dealing with it. Yeah, yeah...no time, no money. Even one of my students said, "What happened? You let it run out of oil?" Wise ass, I thought. "No," I said. "I didn't LET it. It must have developed a leak." Like air from a balloon? Unlikely.

Now, I'm stuck with the decision of whether to pay for a used engine (with 90k miles) or to "cut my losses," as my dad says. In the meantime, I've been given my grandmother's 1986 Olds 98. It's cream and has under 70k on it. It's a grandma car, and I feel like a grandma driving it. Or rather I feel like a kid. A kid who needs to learn some humility.

What the hell am I complaining about? It runs, right? So what if it's missing hubcaps, allowing pebbles from the road to collect and jangle in stereo when the windows are down. So what if the armrests are about to fall off and the interior smells like an ashtray. It's got a CD changer in the trunk. It's free. I can take the mini-van to gigs. The mini-van. So, I'm no longer cool. I realize that, but does it have be so incredibly obvious?

I suppose I'll get used to the car. I should be more thankful for a solution to the problem. The problem is that I feel like I'm in high school again. And that's not a good thing. I thought that I'd have my shit together by now. I thought I DID have it together.

Okay. It's February.

2005-02-17T22:23:00.000-08:00

Hello. My name is Adam, and I'm not very good at this. It's been six months (?) since my last post. The kids have grown up now and left the house. Wendy and I are enjoying our retirement in Boca...

So yes, I've been busy (who hasn't). And I suck. So I though it high time I pop in with an update:

First up, my wife. She's been ornery of late. You can see her giving me that look.

We've all been sick with the crud, the baby with the croup. So we're needing a break, some hope. About mid-week, the weather got nice and we went out back for a while. Played popsicle store and sat and listened to the birds. I told Sophie it would be fun to sit and listen. She didn't believe me, of course. But then she did.

We're all ready for Spring around here. Sophie found the first signs of it. On the Bradford Pear, one sprout unfolded, delicate and full of promise.

Here she is, being.

Emme's feeling particularly fond of me right now, which has kept me up.

And Olivia. There's no way to get depressed with that kid around. She's 17 months and holds a pen. She's Olivia.

And several weeks pass by

2004-09-19T21:37:00.000-07:00

It's almost Fall now. Sophie started school, has mixed feeling about it -- doesn't meet expectations -- and I started teaching high school. Weird. The last few weeks have been spent immersed in pedagogy and football.

A lot has happened over the past few weeks, of course. I guess I assume Wendy's keeping track of everything, planning things, making sure I don't forget something major. Not birthdays though. Birthdays are a very gig deal. We celebrated Sophie's and Olivia's birthdays at home.

Got a jumper for the big party.

.

Sophie is now six years old.

.

The other day I emerged from the bedroom, where I was reading while Olivia slept, and I came upon this sweet scene:

.

It's amost that time...

2004-07-19T09:05:00.000-07:00

Summer is coming rapidly to a close, and I'm getting nervous about my new job. I have about three weeks (almost four) to get materials together, but I'm still not quite sure what I'll be teaching. I've been assuming 9th and 11th, and perhaps a class of 7th, but nothing's solid yet.

I'm reading several things at once right now, trying to juggle a novel, a collection of stories, a couple of textbooks and some how-to pedagogy books. In training, I suppose.

Meanwhile, I'm enjoying the last of the summer. Squeezing the last sweet juice of it.

And from Mother's Day

2004-07-06T22:07:00.000-07:00

The kids made breakfast and tea.
.

In the big bed.
.

Summer Pics

2004-07-06T21:37:00.000-07:00

I mentioned that we went to the park on Father's Day. Here are some pics:

When we first arrived.
.

Five minutes later.
.

Olivia hanging out in the Baby Bjorn.
.

Grrr.
.

Tooth

2004-07-06T14:34:00.000-07:00

Sophie lost her third tooth today. New tooth #2 has been working on it for some time, pushing from below. It popped out while we were watching Totoro, as she took a bite into a candy watch. "Daddy," she says calmly, and then "I lost a tooth!"

I had her chomp on a cotton ball for a while. Now she and Emme are sitting on the couch eating pudding and pop tarts. What a nutritious snack!

Wendy's working at the clinic, so we called her and Sophie told her. She's very proud.

4th of July guilt

2004-07-05T06:11:00.000-07:00

Last year, we drove to the park and saw the fireworks. We stayed in the car while the stars spangled above us. I believe Emme slept through it. Sophie loved it, though. I wrote down what she said:

"It looks like a powerful rainbow man is coming."

Then, later...
"I want to catch one and put it in the sky over our house."

So, I didn't take her this year, and I feel bad. We'll go at Christmas. I would have taken her, but I had a gig, and I thought it started sooner, but when I got there a band was already playing, and I had to wait to set up, so maybe I could have made it, but I don't think so....

Anyway, so we missed it. And Sophie says, "It's no big whoop."

Forgetting

2004-07-02T20:25:00.000-07:00

Not too long ago, I came up with a long list of things to include in a book about being a parent. It seems awfully presumptuous now, but it was a good way to sketch out some things. I'm realizing now, though, that maybe the parenting book idea is part of something else -- an attempt to write, which will become a part of something about the attempt to write it all down, to record it all. Coming up with outlines, chapter titles, advice. No one wants to read that, unless it’s part of something else, something that is about remembering what it’s like not knowing what’s coming, maybe.

Like we felt with one child. Guilty, really, remembering anything before anything that’s happening right now, leaving someone or something out. But I’m so terrified sometimes of forgetting.

I lost a book once that I wrote, a book about some trips I took. It was in my backpack, along with cassettes from the floorboard and an old jacket of my grandpa’s, stolen from in front of a club in SF while we were inside listening to Bill Frisell.

I said something in that book about how it felt going into a Sinclair gas station near Little Big Horn, me and Steve Montgomery, looking for a map. Everyone sort of looking at us, me and Steve with the very red hair.

Also something about the trip back when I stopped by the side of the road because the urge was so bad to write. Something about my point-and-shoot not able to capture what I was seeing, about trying desperately to write it down and failing miserably. So many hours on the road, eating meatloaf by myself in Montana just outside Glacier, almost hitting, or really hitting, an owl maybe. I remember thinking "Shit. Now I’m doomed. I’ve hit an owl on the Blackfoot reservation." That can’t be good.

There was a little church too. That, I took a picture of. I’ve taken a few pictures -- that’s good -- and I have a lot on DAT. The turn signal on my '66 Biscayne, for example. Africa. Still, it’s not the same as my memory. I didn’t take a picture that one time, of the boy by the oldest tree in the world. He was standing there in the red dirt, and I held the camera up and saw him framed and didn’t take the picture. I’m glad I didn’t. I still have it. Same goes for the time in Nakuru when the battery ran down, from too much KBC broadcasting behind the house in Limuru. One kid, one of the oldest, played a song I’ll never remember exactly because it was perhaps the best thing I’d ever heard. I wanted it to be recorded but it couldn’t be. It couldn’t have been.

More recently, I ran across some old DAT recordings, one of an anonymous night at Enoch’s. Kenny Bill was playing, and there -- at the end – was Wendy. Her voice from 1994. Walking up to me, flirting. That, I'm glad I have.

A story about camping

2004-07-02T20:13:00.000-07:00

This is a story Sophie told me after we looked up "unicorn" in the encyclopedia:

This is what you have to have: First, backpacks, stitches [matches], rocks, tent, sleeping bags, water, bucket, and hotdogs, marshmallows and soup

First, make a fire. Gather sticks from broken trees or break off little pieces for Sophie to carry. Make sure you have rocks for safety. Make them in a circle. If you don’t it will start raining. And then daddy takes out a stick in the patches, and then rubs it against the metal, then you put it against the firewood, and then you have fire. A big fire. Jesus cuts onions to make the clouds cry, and their children draw colored streaks in the sky.

To find a unicorn, first you go deep into the forest where the monsters jump out and say “boo.” You have to say “boo” back to them to scare them away. And then when you get past the monsters you can go down by the river, maybe around your place where you see, or maybe by the lake, you’ll see a unicorn. (oh and don’t forget to print this out for mommy). And Sophie has to sit down, and the unicorn -- if you are very still -- the unicorn will come next to Sophie, and then he’ll lay down on her lap and fall asleep.

THE END

Day Two

2004-06-26T21:46:00.000-07:00

I realize now, with the pictures and all, that this will probably not be read by anyone. It might be, though. Perhaps, one day, I'll even feel comfortable with that.

It's just the English thing...being an English teacher. I'm too self-conscious about my writing. Wendy can say what she needs to say and convey the proper emotion, sentiment, advice, whatever. And she can she do it without all of the constant revision.

Alright, so it's day two and already I'm feeling self-conscious.

The truth is that I'm ashamed that I haven't written more about the girls. I've kept up a bit -- again, nothing like Wendy, who writes everyday (emails, posts, discussions, boards) -- but it's pitiful, really. So, I hope to report what I see. Let's start with the other day.

The other day was Father’s Day, and we were on TV. Embarrassing for me, but cool for the kids. We were at the park, headed back to the car, and they spotted me -- Ken Oliphaunt (sp?) and his camera-person. It was really hot, and it had been raining (still is) for days. It's Louisiana. It's the end of June.

Quick interview...I said something like "der der dee dok dug doo" and they got some pics of the girls -- Sophie taking the mic and saying "Hello" in an announcer-voice, and Emme hugging my pants. When asked if she'd like to be on TV when she grows up, Sophie said "I want to be everything when I grow up!" My Sophie.

Monday, eating lunch – ham & cheese sandwiches, macaroni & cheese, and chips – Sophie said “Emme, your ham’s falling out!” "Eat it before it gets away," I say. Before it runs away! Before long, they’re both playing the game. "A piece of ham. Running down the street!" Sophie gets the giggles, thinking about her ham running down the street. Emme’s ham flops out, and she says with mock horror “Oh no! Gonna get ‘way!” She's two and quite the dramatist. Sophie starts eating like a beaver. And then, when she gets her sandwich down to a postage stamp-sized square, she puts it back down on her plate and comes at me with mustardy hands.

Okay, so I'm in love with my kids.

And these are my children.

2004-06-25T23:48:00.000-07:00

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Sophie and me at the Shrimp Basket. We got shirts.

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Emme hanging out by the motel pool. In her swimmin' soup.

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Olivia, chewing on something. Looking more like Wendy each day.

That's my wife.

2004-06-25T22:30:00.000-07:00

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Enough said.

A new day...

2004-06-25T21:32:00.000-07:00

Well, I have a blog. Now what?

An introduction: My name is Adam. I am a dad. I am also a husband, a teacher, a drummer, and a few other things, as well. Mostly, I have niched out this space to talk about my kids. But, as most everything in my life involves, or revolves around my family, I imagine other things will come up.

For the last five years, I've been an Instructor of English on Continuing Appointment (should be past tense, not present perfect, although I'd need to edit the introductory phrase). I start a new job mid-August, still teaching, only now at a local private school. Sophie will be in Kindergarten there.

Wendy and I have been married for eight years, just recently. We've been together for a bit longer. Lifetimes ago. Emme will be three in October, and Olivia will be one four days after Sophie turns six, in September. We have a dog named Mingus. Yes, I like the jazz music.

I imagine that some see me and think I'm pathetic in my devotion to my family; others may think it's sweet. I see it like this: I had a life to myself, for myself, by myself. I had sweet solitude. Now I appreciate it a bit more. Now I have a good deal more to appreciate. Life is good.