Mosh feet

I can't believe I've actually spent time today trying to figure out when the Coors Light label changes to "Super Cold." I have a sense of touch (hopefully, you do too) that tells me when things are cold. Nerve endings and all that jazz. Also, found this tidbit online "A new study reveals why our taste perception is enhanced as the temperature of food and beverage products increases, explaining why beer is more bitter and ice cream is sweeter when consumed warm. " So basically their beer is so bad that the only way to drink it is, not even "Cold," but "Super Cold." They might as well say, Please don't taste our product.

I know. Why do I spend any time on it? But now, not only have I looked it up but I've also told you about it.

Playing at a science center

We just made banana bread and some of it fell out. Cute though.

Buried at the beach.

Playing at a park

See that pond way down there? That's the park from the last pics. We're at the top of "Castle" Craig. We left when we saw Asher step between the bars.

Did I put this up yet? Asher thought this boat was the best playground ever. Ducks in the background.

His tongue is almost the same color as his shirt.

Baby Ryan pretending to be a garden gnome.

Ok. I'm going to watch football and read comics now.

And of Sweet Apple Pie

So this is just a photo dump. Random as random can be. 

Asher looks like an 85 year old Miami resident.

We went to our first baseball game early in the summer. Charlie got to meet, Rookie, Uncle Sam and Blooper. We didn't get Rocky, the Rock Cats autograph but we got everyone else's. Everyone else who was important, mascots basically. The family made it through 6 whole innings - which is five and a half more than I thought we'd make. Of course one full inning was dedicated to the ice cream in customary mini batting helmet.

Pillow face.

 Turtle face.

 Bush whackers.

 I wasn't thinking about pushing them all in. But I'm betting if I pushed in just one, everyone else would get the message.

 Checking out books.

 SLAM!

Looking sharp, looking for love.

Clearly the bucket is more fun than the pool.

 After the Norwalk Aquarium. Don't think this made it into that post, though.

If I die in the next five years, run this as my obituary pic. Tie, collared shirt, good background and I look thin. If I die sometime after five years, use the picture of me on the moon.

 Choppy Seneca Lake

Here are the steel drum propane can bottoms. I like that dad and Charlie are making the same monkey-esque face.

 No idea why Asher moved his chair to the side shelves. He wanted to eat dinner with Vicar, a fish we were fishsitting.

Tire swing.

Some left over NY trip picks. I think this was from the first trip up this year.

Having lunch.

Crowned.

 Watering the pool.

Diaper Patrol

One of the songs I have on my blip page is Roland the Thompson Gunner by Warren Zevon. It's bittersweet, the audio (and video if you watch it) is from his last appearance on Letterman. He and Letterman were pretty friendly and, if you watch the whole thing, you can tell they really respect each other. Unfortunately, Warren Zevon was on to talk about his terminal cancer diagnosis. Letterman had him on as the only guest for the whole show to talk about his life and music and to say goodbye.

Anyway, I've been listening to the song a lot. The opening line is great (listen to it, huh?) and gets stuck in my head easily.

So two days ago Charlie asks me, "Daddy. What's a Thompson gun?"

Well, listen. I have the internet and, as the drawing of me waterproofing the cottage will one day prove, a picture is worth a thousand words.

In this case a few youtube video's were worth about 15,000.

And that's how it came to pass that my daughter and I watched people shooting antique machine guns for 5 minutes.

Sometimes being a dad is so cool.

Mucus

Pearl Jam's streaming their 20th anniversary compilation on Rolling Stone dot com. Some of it is great. Some not so great. And some of it sounds like it was recorded in Bob's Rib Shack on route 18 next to the Piggly Wiggly.

Some people have their Where Were You When Kennedy Died moments. These people are old. But we all have moments we remember for their shear weight and I can totally remember where I was the first time I heard about Pearl Jam's Ten. Yes, this makes me old too. I'm sure someone out there will totally remember the first time they heard Selena Gomez and what impact it had on them. These people aren't old, they just have horrible taste.

Also, if you want to hear what I've been listening too (long aside here: you don't. I really think only my sister and wife read this - Hey, guys! - so they 1)don't care about my music, Nana and 2)don't care about my music but are forced, by the loop holes and by-laws of matrimony, to listen to it anyway, Dianna) you can check out my blip page. Blip is like twitter with music. It grabs music from other spots (mainly legitimate) and lets you play them. The bad news is some of the music doesn't stay where you want it too. So the versions of Big Iron and Tom Ames' Prayer are not playable anymore. Plus, to get the version I want I have to weed through cell phone recorded live performances (not, acoustically, the best) and random people who put themselves on youtube singing.

You should click on that version of Tom Ames Prayer to see what I'm gonna look like in three years.

Since I put up the Pearl Jam pic, I also googled myself in Images to see what would pop up.

I found this . . . spitting image, huh?

Smiley Wipers

Outside of my house, right now, is a beautiful late summer night. It's cool. The breeze is soft but steady. My neighbor did a late night lawn mowing so the smell is still hanging in the air. The night . . . it's just crisp and clean. Each window is open to let the beautiful night in.

Inside of my house is an Algonquin sweat lodge. Humid and stuffy. Barely enough air to breath. Not one lick of that breeze. It's only a matter of time before I follow this giant crow up that hill to the tall tree. 

Here are some pics from the trip we all took to upstate a month or so back. Enjoy them. Or not. I'll be over hear with the Ghost Coyote.

The water in Seneca gets, for about a week, nicely warm. This was not the week. The water was about 68. Which is nice once you get in, but getting in is harder each time you have too.

 Belly'd up to the bar.

My mom took us to a local craft/artisan place . . . you know, lots of cool stuff made out of branches and local jams (which I tasted way more than my fair share of). All of it nice, none of it cheap. They had a goat and sheep, some swings and a tractor. The tractor was a big hit.

My dad, a sailor from way back, took Charlie out for a spin on the sunfish. And Charlie loved it.

As they were heading in I heard Charlie yell, "NO."

When they got in close I asked dad what that was about. He said, "I asked her if she wanted to go back on shore."

Then they took off again.

OH MAN, A TINY BREEZE JUST CAME IN THE SCREEN DOOR. SO REFRESHING. and now it's gone


One of the many duck families that come by and quack for bread. This family was about nine ducks. The kids are ripping up white bread (gasp) to feed them.

Reading with Dianna. Those silver things are propane tank bottoms someone has turned into steel drums. They're tuned and everything. Or they were before my dad said, "go ahead and bang them," then my kids walloped the shit out of them.

Here's a description of a pic I wish I had gotten last time I was up.  Last time the kids and I were up (as seen in the last post so this newest post happened further back in "time" then the last one. Sorry to get all Vincent Vega on you) was to help close down the cottage. Anyway, when we went up dad had me water proof, Thompson's Waterseal, some of the south side of the cottage. He and Joyce did as much as they could, so I got to get up on the ladder and do the rest. Basically, from above the window Dianna's in front of to the tip of the cottage (you can see the tip if you scroll down - I swear that's not supposed to sound dirty).

So the picture I wish we had gotten was ALL of the window behind Dianna with a ladder and only the bottoms of my shoes.

Hum, that description was a let down but I'm leaving it in to bulk up my word count.

Maybe I'll draw the picture. Then you'll all take me seriously.


This is really a panorama. Pic 1 fits into pic 2 fits into Pic 3 which fits into a small doll which goes into a smaller doll etc etc etc. Feel free to print it out and tape them together, it'll make a nice Sunday afternoon project. I love the view. Water, hill and sky.

And that barrel (pic 3). Grunt. It washed up in the winter, lots of crap dislodges somewhere else and ends up under, around or through cottages. I dragged out a neighbor's sailfish once. A huge tree trunk another - great keepsakes for the kids, you know. When we closed up the cottage I got to drag the barrel up the elevator to the top. Which was fine, when it was on the elevator. But a barrel, even with the teeny tiny opening on the top, will fill up quickly while rolling around the bottom of a lake. Fill up with rock. So it's got 30 some gallons of rock in it. Every time I'd roll it or pic it up all that rock would shift.

I hate that barrel.