Front, back, and side. I love this book.

A gift from a friend.

Annie Leibowitz

American Music

Beautiful.

There's a shot of Tom Waits in here that just blows me away.

New Blogger-In-Draft stuff.

Oh, sweet. A sttrike strikke strike through button is now available on the blogger toolbar. I never knew how to do that before.

From the mouths of babes at 1 a.m.

She's wide awake and oh so chatty at 1 a.m.

"When I get bigger and play soccer, the other kids will bump into me."

"Yes, sweetie. But you'll probably be bumping into them as well."

"Oh, right. That's called sharing."

Three links.

• Headline-only RSS feeds explained and justified by the good people at Mental Floss.
• Photography is not a crime, except photographers are bullied and arrested by police frequently.
• News to the citizens of Czech Republic and Slovakia: Long live Czechoslovakia!

My Dark Knight

I dreamed the other night that I saw The Dark Knight. I'm not sure why. I'm sure it's good, but I haven't seen a Batman movie in a long, long time. Not since Clooney's turn in the suit maybe? I even remember thinking in the dream how weird and cool it was that I was watching it. I'm always so busy and broke that I haven't seen a movie in the theaters since Grindhouse. I sat in my seat just happy to be seeing a movie, any movie, but especially this movie.



While I can't recall just what was going on in the movie as I dreamed it, it seems that I was enjoying it nicely. New Yorker critic David Denby reviews the version that everyone else gets to see here.

As thick as it gets.

This is after four days or so of not shaving. And it's possibly as thick of a beard as I've ever had. What I didn't capture in the shots was the little circle just underneath my chin where no hair grows ever. My own personal crop circle. Or as I once heard a comedian describe it, "the dance floor surrounded by the carpet."



Anyway, I doubt I'll ever be able to grow a full beard. I'm not sure I'd even want one. But whenever I can, I give it my best shot. Because I'm a man like that.

To go or not to go.

My lovely wife has been out of town since Wednesday. It's been since Tuesday since I've left my little resdential area. The kids and I have walked down to the pool a few times, but we haven't driven anywhere since she left. I've been 24/7-Dad for the better part of four days and four nights.



Now Paige is home and I'm ready to get out and roam, wander, live it up a bit. The ever-cool Kate-O mentioned earlier that Hotpipes are playing at The Basement. It's a benefit show with no cover but donations appreciated. Heck, it's been so long since I've seen a live show and I'd be happy to drop a five in the hat in exchange for a bit of that musical escape for an hour or so.



But then, me being me, I wonder if I need to make that quick trip from Hermitage to Nashville in my car. That's gas money better suited for going to work and back. Anyway, I've got lots of music here and I could get my escape in the form of a night stroll around here accompanied by iPod. My ever-expanding belly would benefit more from a brisk walk than a "belly up to the bar."



Walk around here spending no money at all or treat myself to some music and a bit of a social life, even if it's in the form of quietly watching a band as I sit on a barstool, spending maybe a total of fifteen bucks or so? One more Sam Adams and my decision will be made for me: Two beers on an empty stomach means I stay here. One beer down and I'm debating the night.



Of course, if there is anyone in Hermitage who would like to see a show and be my designated driver, then you're my new favorite person.



[Edit to add: If the thunder outside is any indication of the weather to come, I'll neither walk nor rock. I'll just watch Planet Terror and drink what's left of the beer in the fridge. Nothin' wrong with that at all.]

Inspired by Newscoma

My Two Dads...are penguins.

From an interesting article entitled, "Bisexual Species: Unorthodox Sex in the Animal Kingdom"

Two penguins native to Antarctica met one spring day in 1998 in a tank at the Central Park Zoo in midtown Manhattan. They perched atop stones and took turns diving in and out of the clear water below. They entwined necks, called to each other and mated. They then built a nest together to prepare for an egg. But no egg was forthcoming: Roy and Silo were both male.

Robert Gramzay, a keeper at the zoo, watched the chinstrap penguin pair roll a rock into their nest and sit on it, according to newspaper reports. Gramzay found an egg from another pair of penguins that was having difficulty hatching it and slipped it into Roy and Silo’s nest. Roy and Silo took turns warming the egg with their blubbery underbellies until, after 34 days, a female chick pecked her way into the world. Roy and Silo kept the gray, fuzzy chick warm and regurgitated food into her tiny black beak.

Read the rest at Scientific American.

The Alchemist

I'm listening to The Alchemist on my iPod. Free on iTunes, I downloaded it yesterday and have been enjoying it immensely. It seems that every few minutes I hear something that I just have to write down. This story is filled with life lessons. In fact, on the description of it at the iTunes store, it's said that "a Norwegian community, Arendal, gave copies of The Alchemist to all its civil servants, as a way of stimulating a new type of thought." Phil Jackson's Bulls and Lakers got books on Zen. Arendal got The Alchemist.



It's quite a simple little story. Pretty basic "follow your dreams" type stuff. But I like it a lot. And who doesn't need reminders like that from time to time? Anyway, it's read by the great Jeremy Irons. As the tired old saying goes, dude could read the phone book and I'd hang on every word.



Thanks for reading. Have a wonderful day.

I'm weary and blessed.

Today was as wonderful as it was difficult.

We had the big time at the pool, but Ari, who cannot swim, went under briefly. She was rescued immediately by someone who happened to be right next to her at the time, but it bothered me that I didn't see it right away. The good news is that after resisting swimming lessons for so long, Ari told me afterward that she would like to learn how to swim. The lesson for me was that it's just too dangerous to take two kids to a pool and try to watch both of them at the same time.

Then, as we were leaving for home, Joshua, full of energy, decided to run as fast as he could, with no regard to our rules of always staying where we can see him. Holding floats, beach bags, and his sister, it was all I could do to catch up with him. Yelling his name as I ran, being both worried and angry, I finally caught sight of him where he was waiting at the stop sign where we always hold hands to cross the street. It was there that he received probably the sternest talking to he's ever received in his life. I doubt he was out of my sight for more than thirty seconds or so, but after Ari's incident at the pool, it may as well have been an hour.

Aside from the above, all is well. We played hard, read good books, and generally just goofed around. For the most part, the siblings got along beautifully. I'm just beat. Sixteen hours ago, I awoke. I've barely had a breather since. Welcome to every day of my wife's day-to-day. I'm not whining, rather I'm bowing down to what it's like to walk in her shoes.

And I'm really, really glad she'll be home tomorrow evening. I can't wait to go back to work where I can relax.

Splash Attack!

Another thing about my daughter.

I mentioned earlier how she, the youngest in the household, tends to be subject to the tornadic-like actions of her 5-year-old brother. She's often bumped into, her little hands stripped of toys, and generally always in second place when he gets that dominant-competitive streak going.



But it should also be said that she often gets things her way in the end. She's quite verbal, very sweet, and sure of what she wants. And maybe more than a little bit manipulative. I got wise to this earlier today when her brother and I found ourselves sitting on the floor before her chair as we took turns quietly painting her nails pink, just as she asked.

When both are swaddled, I can see the resemblance.

The always awesome Newscoma shared this mention of a baby reportedly abandoned in a trash can at a Wal-Mart. Investigating the call, officers determined that the "baby" was, in fact, a burrito.



What she shares is always good stuff.

A bit similar to my great break-up of 1995.

I've danced this dance before. At least it left me with a good story to tell my friends. I'm sure I even had a few "we've all been there" beers bought for me.

No embedding allowed, but here's the link.