For those of you who don't know, and frankly if I met you in person, I told you, I was left home alone this last weekend while the family went off to D.C.
Before they left, I had visions of self-indulgence. The truth is, about an hour after I was left alone I didn't know what to do.
I was laughing with some friends about how, if I didn't have a kid in tow, I wouldn't have much of a week-day social life. I can hardly go hang with my buddies (all women) at the playground if I don't have a kid with me. That would be all wrong. Similarly, I can hardly go over to a mom's house for a playdate if my kids aren't involved. I mean, how could I justify that?
So, here's my big discovery - my life is so intrinsically tied to my kids' lives that I don't have much of a life anymore. I have lost myself and forgotten what I like to do by myself.
Sure, I could have spent the last three days drunk watching dirty movies and eating lard. I could have gone to Manhattan and bar-crawled through the old 'hood and eaten six bacon-blue-cheeseburgers (although travel was limited, as was excessive expenditure as is usually the case at this time of month.)
So what did I do? The short answer is that I tried to feed my soul.
There was steak involved (on sale at the A&P) along with beer (one six pack of Miller Light over four days.) I watched a few movies, but nothing with excessive nudity (unless you count the naked man fight from "Eastern Promises") and I sat in the back yard and breathed the suburban air. I even managed to get some work done, covering the Memorial Day festivities in A-Town and earning a little greenback.
The biggest plus, and I swear this is no exaggeration, was the eight hours straight I managed to sleep on Sunday night from 10pm through 6am. This is the longest I have slept without tossing and turning since long before Penelope was born five years ago.
And despite the lack of excitement, it was clearly just what I needed. My eyes were opened. I have to get my life back. But also I learned that being intrinsically linked to two kids is not so bad after all. Right now it's a steamy morning with very little prospect of outside play any time today. The house is a shit-tip, thanks to the pile of post-trip bags dumped in the living room after the car was unloaded. I have plenty of work to do, but also two kids to entertain - preferably without the TV. And I'm looking forward to it.
Somewhere, somehow and sometime soon I'll have to remember how to really enjoy myself given the time, but I have a fully-fed soul and some direction back in my life. I'll take that for now.
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
Thursday, May 22, 2008
Silence Of The Rabbit
From the moment we got our cat, I wanted to call him Ninja. We ended up calling him Luigi, an homage to the less-well-known Nintendo plumbing brother.
Luigi is an excellent mouser, and living in the rural suburbs as we do, that's a good thing. In our backyard at any given time one can find mice, squirrels, chipmunks, groundhogs, rabbits, deer, raccoons, skunks - it's like a zoo, but with only timid, flower-eating animals.
Which brings me to yesterday afternoon...
A friend came over to pick up her daughter who had been on a Wii playdate at my place. We were chatting on the doorstep and she noticed Luigi sitting by an open, but screened-in window, looking out with some menace - like he'd been on the catnip all morning and someone, somewhere was going to get messed up because of it. We chatted, he looked out of the window.
I opened the door to go back inside, and he bolted out, darted past me and jumped down into the garden and on top of a rabbit.
We have rabbits living under our front steps. When we found out, we shrugged. It was rabbits! Who cares? If it had been a skunk family, or even a bloody groundhog (as it has in the past) I would have done everything I could to flush it out. But rabbits? Please.
So, thanks to my lax attitude and my cat's warrior instincts, my friend Amy and I were now watching my cat mauling a rabbit. At least, that's how it looked. Luigi had the rabbit in his mouth and was walking around with it, its eyes bulging, and not sure what to do next. A little like myself. I told Amy to get her girls into the car (5 and 3 and traumatized at this point) and I went to get my shoes so I could pursue the black-and-white feline beast and his dinner-to-be.
I came out again, and before I could slip my Sambas on, Luigi put the rabbit down. And to everyone's surprise (including my kids, who were now watching from the window) - it jumped up and ran away! That's great! Except that Luigi chased after it. I threw my shoes towards the cat to try and stop him, but all that did was left me shoeless. The rabbit ran in circles, then dived back into its burrow. Luigi followed it, then dug into the burrow enough to resurface with the rabbit in his mouth again. We were back where we were minutes earlier.
Amy left, explaining to her kids that Luigi was "playing" with a "mouse" and I retrieved my shoes and went after him, sure I would soon have a blood-soaked cat and a dead bunny on my hands. Again, Luigi put down his catch... and again, the thing jumped up and bounded away. I grabbed the cat and the bunny went on his merry way. Amazing.
I took Ninja (his new name as far as I'm concerned, such is his stealth and guile) back inside and locked him in. He was wired, but clean. I came back outside, and who should I see sitting there, the very definition of "stupid" and "glutton for more near-death experiences" but the bunny. Looking up at me, a mix of "thanks, but kick your bastard cat friend for me, wouldya?" on his face.
Later, I would confront Luigi, but really, what could I say? "Don't be a cat?" We chose him from the shelter clearly because he would be a good mouser. It's like my old family dog, Cindy. She was the loudest, barkiest dog in the pound when we got her. That was the point. She was our burglar alarm. We then spent 10 years telling her to shut up. But, she was a barky dog! And so, we have a rodent-predator cat, and that's that. And it's not a bad thing. I was even able to tell my kids, 100% honestly, that the rabbit was fine and Luigi was just playing with it.
Penny's reaction was priceless: "Daddy, I saw Luigi with the rabbit in his mouth, and I was shocked."
Me too, kiddo.
Luigi is an excellent mouser, and living in the rural suburbs as we do, that's a good thing. In our backyard at any given time one can find mice, squirrels, chipmunks, groundhogs, rabbits, deer, raccoons, skunks - it's like a zoo, but with only timid, flower-eating animals.
Which brings me to yesterday afternoon...
A friend came over to pick up her daughter who had been on a Wii playdate at my place. We were chatting on the doorstep and she noticed Luigi sitting by an open, but screened-in window, looking out with some menace - like he'd been on the catnip all morning and someone, somewhere was going to get messed up because of it. We chatted, he looked out of the window.
I opened the door to go back inside, and he bolted out, darted past me and jumped down into the garden and on top of a rabbit.
We have rabbits living under our front steps. When we found out, we shrugged. It was rabbits! Who cares? If it had been a skunk family, or even a bloody groundhog (as it has in the past) I would have done everything I could to flush it out. But rabbits? Please.
So, thanks to my lax attitude and my cat's warrior instincts, my friend Amy and I were now watching my cat mauling a rabbit. At least, that's how it looked. Luigi had the rabbit in his mouth and was walking around with it, its eyes bulging, and not sure what to do next. A little like myself. I told Amy to get her girls into the car (5 and 3 and traumatized at this point) and I went to get my shoes so I could pursue the black-and-white feline beast and his dinner-to-be.
I came out again, and before I could slip my Sambas on, Luigi put the rabbit down. And to everyone's surprise (including my kids, who were now watching from the window) - it jumped up and ran away! That's great! Except that Luigi chased after it. I threw my shoes towards the cat to try and stop him, but all that did was left me shoeless. The rabbit ran in circles, then dived back into its burrow. Luigi followed it, then dug into the burrow enough to resurface with the rabbit in his mouth again. We were back where we were minutes earlier.
Amy left, explaining to her kids that Luigi was "playing" with a "mouse" and I retrieved my shoes and went after him, sure I would soon have a blood-soaked cat and a dead bunny on my hands. Again, Luigi put down his catch... and again, the thing jumped up and bounded away. I grabbed the cat and the bunny went on his merry way. Amazing.
I took Ninja (his new name as far as I'm concerned, such is his stealth and guile) back inside and locked him in. He was wired, but clean. I came back outside, and who should I see sitting there, the very definition of "stupid" and "glutton for more near-death experiences" but the bunny. Looking up at me, a mix of "thanks, but kick your bastard cat friend for me, wouldya?" on his face.
Later, I would confront Luigi, but really, what could I say? "Don't be a cat?" We chose him from the shelter clearly because he would be a good mouser. It's like my old family dog, Cindy. She was the loudest, barkiest dog in the pound when we got her. That was the point. She was our burglar alarm. We then spent 10 years telling her to shut up. But, she was a barky dog! And so, we have a rodent-predator cat, and that's that. And it's not a bad thing. I was even able to tell my kids, 100% honestly, that the rabbit was fine and Luigi was just playing with it.
Penny's reaction was priceless: "Daddy, I saw Luigi with the rabbit in his mouth, and I was shocked."
Me too, kiddo.
Monday, May 19, 2008
34
Yesterday was my birthday. The day before that was so full of stuff, I am still dealing with the trauma (it wasn't all bad, but it was taxing and I'm not ready to blugh it all out yet.)
My birthday began with presents in bed, then breakfast, relaxation time, more presents, then being blindfolded and taken to dinner (disorientated, I had no idea where I was. Turns out I was right in town, and had been paraded, blindfolded, past the our supermarket of choice. I heard at least one "Oh, there's Adam!" as I was led through the parking lot,) before watching Goldmember on TV and passing out in bed before 9 o'clock. It was truly great.
My birthday began with presents in bed, then breakfast, relaxation time, more presents, then being blindfolded and taken to dinner (disorientated, I had no idea where I was. Turns out I was right in town, and had been paraded, blindfolded, past the our supermarket of choice. I heard at least one "Oh, there's Adam!" as I was led through the parking lot,) before watching Goldmember on TV and passing out in bed before 9 o'clock. It was truly great.
Friday, May 16, 2008
MSNBC?
And there I am! And while it's somewhat shorter than my long conversation with the journalist lead me to believe, it's there!
http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/24603016/
And here's the edited highlights:
"Some fathers, like Adam Keeble of Allendale, N.J., feel they're accepted easily into their town's community of mothers. As the lone stay-at-home dad with a British accent in the local park, he said, so many mothers would say "Hi, Adam" that he had to keep a book to remember names. He also has no trouble, he says, organizing playdates at his house.
Keeble, an aspiring novelist who's been home for five years, says the frustration of the job is similar to that a mother might experience. "It's the best job in the world, except when it isn't," he says. "On a sunny day with the kids playing in the sand, it's great. But then there's the miserable February day when they look at me and say, well, now what? And, well, it's only reruns of Dora."
http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/24603016/
And here's the edited highlights:
"Some fathers, like Adam Keeble of Allendale, N.J., feel they're accepted easily into their town's community of mothers. As the lone stay-at-home dad with a British accent in the local park, he said, so many mothers would say "Hi, Adam" that he had to keep a book to remember names. He also has no trouble, he says, organizing playdates at his house.
Keeble, an aspiring novelist who's been home for five years, says the frustration of the job is similar to that a mother might experience. "It's the best job in the world, except when it isn't," he says. "On a sunny day with the kids playing in the sand, it's great. But then there's the miserable February day when they look at me and say, well, now what? And, well, it's only reruns of Dora."
Thursday, May 15, 2008
About Last Night
8:45 - Daughter finally falls asleep in her bed. I tip-toe into the master bedroom where the wife has fallen asleep with my son, who has been fighting night's sweet embrace. Unsure whether he is fully asleep, I return to my daughter's room and lay there, planning to wait it out.
8:59 - the phone rings. The house stirs. I leap downstairs and answer. While I'm on the phone I get another call coming in. I hurry the first caller off the phone, let the second leave a message. I wait it out downstairs for 10 minutes to ensure everyone is back in REM mode.
9:15 - back upstairs, Son is transferred to his bed, I climb into my bed alongside snoring wife.
12:00 - the phone starts making all kinds of noise - not ringing, just beeping as though it had been lost and we were paging it to find it. I jump out of bed, noting my son is now alongside me (missed that one) and turn the phone off. Turns out the cat had pressed the "transfer call" button. I lay awake for an hour.
2:15 - Daughter comes into our room. Son wakes up. Something about a trip to the bathroom.
3:00 - Wife, now sleeping in son's bed, takes son to bathroom. There is a change of pajamas (can't be good.) Daughter is in our bed.
5:20 - I am in our bed with son. Wife is in son's bed alone. Daughter is in her bed alone. Wife comes into our room, slumps on bed. I leave our bed and come downstairs. My day is underway.
Now, I'm not one to curse, but what the fuck?
8:59 - the phone rings. The house stirs. I leap downstairs and answer. While I'm on the phone I get another call coming in. I hurry the first caller off the phone, let the second leave a message. I wait it out downstairs for 10 minutes to ensure everyone is back in REM mode.
9:15 - back upstairs, Son is transferred to his bed, I climb into my bed alongside snoring wife.
12:00 - the phone starts making all kinds of noise - not ringing, just beeping as though it had been lost and we were paging it to find it. I jump out of bed, noting my son is now alongside me (missed that one) and turn the phone off. Turns out the cat had pressed the "transfer call" button. I lay awake for an hour.
2:15 - Daughter comes into our room. Son wakes up. Something about a trip to the bathroom.
3:00 - Wife, now sleeping in son's bed, takes son to bathroom. There is a change of pajamas (can't be good.) Daughter is in our bed.
5:20 - I am in our bed with son. Wife is in son's bed alone. Daughter is in her bed alone. Wife comes into our room, slumps on bed. I leave our bed and come downstairs. My day is underway.
Now, I'm not one to curse, but what the fuck?
Monday, May 12, 2008
On The Rebound
Despite my publishing deal going tits up, I have never been in demand to this crazy extent.
As well as all the relentlessness of organizing the fundraiser this weekend for my kids' pre-school (of which I will be the president of the board starting next month), and appearing on the cover of Parent Paper next month, I just got interviewed for the first time for a feature by an AP journalist about being a stay-at-home dad. Just imagine if my book was still coming out in three weeks time! I would have shifted a bunch! Imagine!
But there's more. I wrote the splash and page three lead of my local paper last week, and will be covering the Memorial Day parade next weekend. I also believe I am going to be featured in the Father's Day issue of the paper too, promoting something very exciting I can't talk about still that I'm doing in June.
Next month will be my fifth anniversary of quitting my job and staying home with the kids (though, of course, at the time it was just the one.) I suppose I must be considered some kind of expert at this point. That said, I wonder what the AP journalist will end up saying about me. I probably should have asked that while she was still on the phone. If her story makes Yahoo news, I'll send a link.
As well as all the relentlessness of organizing the fundraiser this weekend for my kids' pre-school (of which I will be the president of the board starting next month), and appearing on the cover of Parent Paper next month, I just got interviewed for the first time for a feature by an AP journalist about being a stay-at-home dad. Just imagine if my book was still coming out in three weeks time! I would have shifted a bunch! Imagine!
But there's more. I wrote the splash and page three lead of my local paper last week, and will be covering the Memorial Day parade next weekend. I also believe I am going to be featured in the Father's Day issue of the paper too, promoting something very exciting I can't talk about still that I'm doing in June.
Next month will be my fifth anniversary of quitting my job and staying home with the kids (though, of course, at the time it was just the one.) I suppose I must be considered some kind of expert at this point. That said, I wonder what the AP journalist will end up saying about me. I probably should have asked that while she was still on the phone. If her story makes Yahoo news, I'll send a link.
Thursday, May 08, 2008
Small... far away... ah, forget it!
Oh, and while I think of it, yesterday my son said I looked like Father Ted. I was one-part happy, one-part poignant, and one-part pissed off.
Meet El Presidente
If not for the fact I am sleeping so, so badly right now I might have found time sooner to mention that I am now President-elect of the board at my kids' preschool.
This is obviously a fun thing, and not one of the things causing me to wake up at 1am and stay awake until 3 or 4am every day this past week. Those not-fun things fueling my insomnia don't bother me so much during daylight hours, but I think it's fair to say I haven't slept this badly, this often since Patrick was a new born.
I am also well aware that my feet are killing me since a particularly vigorous soccer game nearly a month ago. It feels like every bone in both feet has been shaken loose then replaced somewhere close to where they ought to be.
This is also the fifth time in two weeks where The Pre-School's First Lady-elect is going to be super-late home (ie. after 10pm) which is taking its toll on my sanity. A 12-hour day is a cinch. A 14-hour day is a stretch. But when she leaves at 6 and doesn't come back until 11pm - a 17-hour day - it can get a little... much, depending on how easily the kids go to sleep. Mix crippling exhaustion with crippling insomnia, and my face starts to look like Droopy the Dog's/a contour map and the light twinkle in my eyes is dimmed to a birthday candle in an Olympic stadium.
This is obviously a fun thing, and not one of the things causing me to wake up at 1am and stay awake until 3 or 4am every day this past week. Those not-fun things fueling my insomnia don't bother me so much during daylight hours, but I think it's fair to say I haven't slept this badly, this often since Patrick was a new born.
I am also well aware that my feet are killing me since a particularly vigorous soccer game nearly a month ago. It feels like every bone in both feet has been shaken loose then replaced somewhere close to where they ought to be.
This is also the fifth time in two weeks where The Pre-School's First Lady-elect is going to be super-late home (ie. after 10pm) which is taking its toll on my sanity. A 12-hour day is a cinch. A 14-hour day is a stretch. But when she leaves at 6 and doesn't come back until 11pm - a 17-hour day - it can get a little... much, depending on how easily the kids go to sleep. Mix crippling exhaustion with crippling insomnia, and my face starts to look like Droopy the Dog's/a contour map and the light twinkle in my eyes is dimmed to a birthday candle in an Olympic stadium.
Monday, May 05, 2008
Good Things About Today
1) A Mariano Rivera signed baseball in the mail.
2) Portishead's new CD arrives from Amazon
3) Along with the Tim and Eric DVD
4) Sunny, 75 degrees
5) Two beers in the fridge for the last 24 hours, icy to the touch
6) No nap from either kid today, but plenty of running around. Early nights all round.
7) Seven DVDs sitting on top of the TV waiting to be watched - all of which are too violent for the kids to watch (300 Days of Night, War) or childish... but adult (Balls Of Fury) and no wife around tonight, so I can take my pick.
8) Isn't seven enough?
2) Portishead's new CD arrives from Amazon
3) Along with the Tim and Eric DVD
4) Sunny, 75 degrees
5) Two beers in the fridge for the last 24 hours, icy to the touch
6) No nap from either kid today, but plenty of running around. Early nights all round.
7) Seven DVDs sitting on top of the TV waiting to be watched - all of which are too violent for the kids to watch (300 Days of Night, War) or childish... but adult (Balls Of Fury) and no wife around tonight, so I can take my pick.
8) Isn't seven enough?
Thursday, May 01, 2008
Marlon Brando, Jimmy Dean...
What? You're still reading this blog, even though the book is kaput?
Well, good for you. Because I have something fun to share.
Last year I wrote a funny article for The Parent Paper. I wasn't paid, but I got a lot of props. If I can be bothered, I'll find the post about it and link it here. It was about Patrick being left-handed, and therefore obviously a sporting legend in the making. I was paid in books and DVDs. It was fair.
The PP editor then asked me if I would submit another article for last year's father's day issue. I did, and it was funny. I don't think I even got the books and DVDs this time, but I didn't care.
This year, I was asked to write a lengthier, more substantial piece - and I would be paid with Yankee dollars. Once again, I did so.
Then, last week, I was asked...
TO BE ON THE COVER OF PARENT PAPER, THUS BECOMING THE FACE OF FATHER'S DAY FOR THE WHOLE OF BERGEN COUNTY!
So, yesterday, Patrick, Penelope and I went to a photo shoot and goofed around. Pat and I were wearing the same clothes, right down to the shoes, and we will be on the cover - and throughout the June issue - of the bumper Father's Day edition.
The PP is also interested in more work from me - funny stuff, not stuff about serious medical issues or parenting dilemmas. You know, stuff about Darth Vader being a good role-model for new dads. Yeah, heavy stuff like that.
Now, call me a self-publicist if you will, but: up yours. I couldn't get a book published even after I signed a contract to do so. If this helps me make a living as a writer somewhere down the line, I won't care how it looks to any potential haterz. Fact is, I'm about to be on the cover of a magazine, and you aren't.
And when I get recognized by a stranger at the park and asked to sign her PP, I'll do it. In fact, I'm going to ask for pens for my birthday so I always have one on hand.
Fun, no?
Well, good for you. Because I have something fun to share.
Last year I wrote a funny article for The Parent Paper. I wasn't paid, but I got a lot of props. If I can be bothered, I'll find the post about it and link it here. It was about Patrick being left-handed, and therefore obviously a sporting legend in the making. I was paid in books and DVDs. It was fair.
The PP editor then asked me if I would submit another article for last year's father's day issue. I did, and it was funny. I don't think I even got the books and DVDs this time, but I didn't care.
This year, I was asked to write a lengthier, more substantial piece - and I would be paid with Yankee dollars. Once again, I did so.
Then, last week, I was asked...
TO BE ON THE COVER OF PARENT PAPER, THUS BECOMING THE FACE OF FATHER'S DAY FOR THE WHOLE OF BERGEN COUNTY!
So, yesterday, Patrick, Penelope and I went to a photo shoot and goofed around. Pat and I were wearing the same clothes, right down to the shoes, and we will be on the cover - and throughout the June issue - of the bumper Father's Day edition.
The PP is also interested in more work from me - funny stuff, not stuff about serious medical issues or parenting dilemmas. You know, stuff about Darth Vader being a good role-model for new dads. Yeah, heavy stuff like that.
Now, call me a self-publicist if you will, but: up yours. I couldn't get a book published even after I signed a contract to do so. If this helps me make a living as a writer somewhere down the line, I won't care how it looks to any potential haterz. Fact is, I'm about to be on the cover of a magazine, and you aren't.
And when I get recognized by a stranger at the park and asked to sign her PP, I'll do it. In fact, I'm going to ask for pens for my birthday so I always have one on hand.
Fun, no?
Friday, April 25, 2008
The Fulham Dray RIP
I'm sad to find out one of my favorite pubs, The Fulham Dray in SW6, London, is no more. I'm probably the last person on earth to find this out, as it actually closed its doors in 2002.
Shortly after I was employed by Teletext, The Dray opened right around the corner from my office. It became a favorite spot for our traditional lunch hour drink (and traditional lunch two-hour drink on Fridays) as well as a favorite on the way home. It was only the second pub I can really call a "local" after The Railway in Hatch End, where I drank heavily (in both quantity and frequency - I was there almost every day between the ages of 17 and 20.)
I would walk in and be greeted by the landlord, Ollie, who would pour my usual before I asked for it. We played pool, put the world to rights, and even did some work aided by the Fosters lubrication. The fact it was a Chelsea supporters pub mattered very little to me. On an average weeknight the crowd was a mix of the locals propping up the bar, the Teletext louts, a bunch of teachers (who taught at the school Tony Blair sent his kids to) and some postal workers who had probably been there since their shift finished. It was always friendly (apart from one night when... well, I wasn't involved but it all got a bit nasty in the street outside) and I have many, many fond memories of the old place.
The writing was on the wall shortly after the unpleasantness that one Friday night, and Ollie (wholly unrelated to it) moved on to take charge of another pub. I'm not sure I went there after Ollie left, as I was soon after to move to Manhattan, but I'm sure it was a bit rubbish without him there. I hadn't actually vocally ordered a drink there in more than two years, so it would have been like starting again.
Following its demise (assisted, I'm sure, not only by Ollie leaving but by Teletext moving to a new site miles away) it turns out it re-opened in 2004 as a trendy bar. Gone was the "burger in a basket with chips" and the pool table. In came a variety of fancy fancy and, in an effort to be a bit hoity-toity, a credit card only policy. Behold - a pub that doesn't take money!
Anyway, a little after the event, I ask you to raise a glass to The Fulham Dray. God bless all who sailed in her. Especially during Euro '96. Magnificent times.
Shortly after I was employed by Teletext, The Dray opened right around the corner from my office. It became a favorite spot for our traditional lunch hour drink (and traditional lunch two-hour drink on Fridays) as well as a favorite on the way home. It was only the second pub I can really call a "local" after The Railway in Hatch End, where I drank heavily (in both quantity and frequency - I was there almost every day between the ages of 17 and 20.)
I would walk in and be greeted by the landlord, Ollie, who would pour my usual before I asked for it. We played pool, put the world to rights, and even did some work aided by the Fosters lubrication. The fact it was a Chelsea supporters pub mattered very little to me. On an average weeknight the crowd was a mix of the locals propping up the bar, the Teletext louts, a bunch of teachers (who taught at the school Tony Blair sent his kids to) and some postal workers who had probably been there since their shift finished. It was always friendly (apart from one night when... well, I wasn't involved but it all got a bit nasty in the street outside) and I have many, many fond memories of the old place.
The writing was on the wall shortly after the unpleasantness that one Friday night, and Ollie (wholly unrelated to it) moved on to take charge of another pub. I'm not sure I went there after Ollie left, as I was soon after to move to Manhattan, but I'm sure it was a bit rubbish without him there. I hadn't actually vocally ordered a drink there in more than two years, so it would have been like starting again.
Following its demise (assisted, I'm sure, not only by Ollie leaving but by Teletext moving to a new site miles away) it turns out it re-opened in 2004 as a trendy bar. Gone was the "burger in a basket with chips" and the pool table. In came a variety of fancy fancy and, in an effort to be a bit hoity-toity, a credit card only policy. Behold - a pub that doesn't take money!
Anyway, a little after the event, I ask you to raise a glass to The Fulham Dray. God bless all who sailed in her. Especially during Euro '96. Magnificent times.
Thursday, April 24, 2008
Almost there....
So, with one day to go of Spring Break it has been a 100% pleasant experience.
Today's playdate left me kid-free for a couple of hours, so I went to the driving range and hit a few dozen balls with an frustrating slice. Got to work on that grip. I then had a magnificent Buffalo Chicken Wrap that was so hot, my ears stopped popping temporarily (and that's a whole nother story.)
After the kids were returned, we hung out and I mowed the lawn before going back to the park and hanging out for an hour or so. I now have a Bombay Sapphire and tonic on the go and all is right in the world.
Both the interested publisher and interested agent are leaving me hanging, but it's all good. Come Monday morning, school is back in session and I have to worry about my annual stand-up-in-front-of-100-people-and-make-a-speech thing as well as the '80s party I've been planning for months.
I also have lined up something so very exciting, I am going to shock the entire community. But that's still a while away... Plus, it looks like I am doing something else only slightly less exciting in June. I am some kind of excitement monster.
And, and on May 18, I turn 34, thus out-living Jesus. Yip. Eee.
Today's playdate left me kid-free for a couple of hours, so I went to the driving range and hit a few dozen balls with an frustrating slice. Got to work on that grip. I then had a magnificent Buffalo Chicken Wrap that was so hot, my ears stopped popping temporarily (and that's a whole nother story.)
After the kids were returned, we hung out and I mowed the lawn before going back to the park and hanging out for an hour or so. I now have a Bombay Sapphire and tonic on the go and all is right in the world.
Both the interested publisher and interested agent are leaving me hanging, but it's all good. Come Monday morning, school is back in session and I have to worry about my annual stand-up-in-front-of-100-people-and-make-a-speech thing as well as the '80s party I've been planning for months.
I also have lined up something so very exciting, I am going to shock the entire community. But that's still a while away... Plus, it looks like I am doing something else only slightly less exciting in June. I am some kind of excitement monster.
And, and on May 18, I turn 34, thus out-living Jesus. Yip. Eee.
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
Halfway There
Midway through SB and all is going well enough.
The downside of getting a little extra money in the bank is that it's never enough. Our tax rebate is holding up well, but it's clear we can't do everything we want with it. In an ideal world, we could pay off AmEx, resurface the drive, fix up the basement and take a vacation with Mickey Mouse... and still have the money in the bank for things like... oh, I don't know... the mortgage? Food? Clothes?
All that said, my recent mantra has been: "Nothing is ever as bad when it's sunny" and sunny it certainly is. We've been in the 70s and I've been wearing Banana Boat, my prescription shades, shorts and not much more all week. Nothing has changed in our situation other than the weather. That's enough.
Another playdate today, then I've got to get back on the phone to get through Thursday and Friday. I have a couple of leads, so it's all good. An (adult) party this weekend - we even have a non-family-member as a babysitter for probably only the fifth time ever.
The downside of getting a little extra money in the bank is that it's never enough. Our tax rebate is holding up well, but it's clear we can't do everything we want with it. In an ideal world, we could pay off AmEx, resurface the drive, fix up the basement and take a vacation with Mickey Mouse... and still have the money in the bank for things like... oh, I don't know... the mortgage? Food? Clothes?
All that said, my recent mantra has been: "Nothing is ever as bad when it's sunny" and sunny it certainly is. We've been in the 70s and I've been wearing Banana Boat, my prescription shades, shorts and not much more all week. Nothing has changed in our situation other than the weather. That's enough.
Another playdate today, then I've got to get back on the phone to get through Thursday and Friday. I have a couple of leads, so it's all good. An (adult) party this weekend - we even have a non-family-member as a babysitter for probably only the fifth time ever.
Monday, April 21, 2008
Spring Break! Woo-hoo?
The words "Spring Break" mean a lot of things to different people.
Growing up, my spring break was spent wandering around shopping malls, playing tennis and, in my high school years, doing anything except revising for my end of year exams. I know US-based teens can take spring break to near mythical status with their ventures to the sunniest climes and going buck wild.
But to me, right now, SB means I have two kids waking up and asking me: "So, no school today? What else you got?"
I've been in a funk for a few days, but I'm starting to see that I can make this work in my favor by lining up a week of fun for them that doesn't involve me - and at low cost. I'm talking drop-off playdates.
The beauty of a drop-off playdate is that it works either way. If I drop my kids off, I don't see them for a couple of hours and it's all good. If I have someone else drop their kids off, the new arrivals take on my role as primary entertainer, and I'm free to do other things in a distraction-free environment. As long as I don't just drive off and leave a five-year-old in charge of my own kids. That would probably spoil the possibilities of another drop-off playdate happening. And probably come with jail time and my kids going into care.
So, five weekdays on the horizon and only one planned item on the agenda (today, library story time) means I have to get a grip on this week or get overwhelmed in an amazingly short amount of time.
Here's the plan:
1) Call friends for playdates.
2) Cook meals for quick, easy service later this week.
3) Stock up on kid-friendly snacks. A well-fed playdate-ee will want to come back.
4) Pray for sunshine. A trip to the park is low-maintenance, high-yield.
Growing up, my spring break was spent wandering around shopping malls, playing tennis and, in my high school years, doing anything except revising for my end of year exams. I know US-based teens can take spring break to near mythical status with their ventures to the sunniest climes and going buck wild.
But to me, right now, SB means I have two kids waking up and asking me: "So, no school today? What else you got?"
I've been in a funk for a few days, but I'm starting to see that I can make this work in my favor by lining up a week of fun for them that doesn't involve me - and at low cost. I'm talking drop-off playdates.
The beauty of a drop-off playdate is that it works either way. If I drop my kids off, I don't see them for a couple of hours and it's all good. If I have someone else drop their kids off, the new arrivals take on my role as primary entertainer, and I'm free to do other things in a distraction-free environment. As long as I don't just drive off and leave a five-year-old in charge of my own kids. That would probably spoil the possibilities of another drop-off playdate happening. And probably come with jail time and my kids going into care.
So, five weekdays on the horizon and only one planned item on the agenda (today, library story time) means I have to get a grip on this week or get overwhelmed in an amazingly short amount of time.
Here's the plan:
1) Call friends for playdates.
2) Cook meals for quick, easy service later this week.
3) Stock up on kid-friendly snacks. A well-fed playdate-ee will want to come back.
4) Pray for sunshine. A trip to the park is low-maintenance, high-yield.
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
What's the opposite of "curb?"
My enthusiasm for all things book-related was recently revived by, of all things, a book signing I attended on Sunday.
Apart from one of those "it's a small world, but I wouldn't want to paint it" stories where the author of the book (that I was meeting for the first time in person but have "known" for more than a year thanks to the internet) turned out to be the sister of a guy I have been playing soccer with for the last five years, I ended up having an email exchange with an agent. Regardless of how that pans out, I think it's safe to say I have my groove back.
Publishers are certainly more interested in IGYB when they hear it's all done (proofed, copy-edited, type-set) and a few have shown some interest in the things I am writing now (one in particular) which has provided the proverbial carrot on a stick for me, the proverbial donkey (or "ass") to chase after.
However, I'm certainly not getting too excited this time around until I have the book in my hand. As the news continues to filter out through town and across my network of friends that the book isn't coming out in June after all, it's getting harder to tell the story again and again. I feel like months ago I announced I was pregnant and now as we near the due date I'm having to tell people it was just indigestion.
Still, it is with a renewed lusting that I'm back in the saddle and the stuff I have been writing recently (yesterday in particular) is still pretty darn good. And a little ego-massage from the semi-interested parties has only plumped up my creativity feathers.
Apart from one of those "it's a small world, but I wouldn't want to paint it" stories where the author of the book (that I was meeting for the first time in person but have "known" for more than a year thanks to the internet) turned out to be the sister of a guy I have been playing soccer with for the last five years, I ended up having an email exchange with an agent. Regardless of how that pans out, I think it's safe to say I have my groove back.
Publishers are certainly more interested in IGYB when they hear it's all done (proofed, copy-edited, type-set) and a few have shown some interest in the things I am writing now (one in particular) which has provided the proverbial carrot on a stick for me, the proverbial donkey (or "ass") to chase after.
However, I'm certainly not getting too excited this time around until I have the book in my hand. As the news continues to filter out through town and across my network of friends that the book isn't coming out in June after all, it's getting harder to tell the story again and again. I feel like months ago I announced I was pregnant and now as we near the due date I'm having to tell people it was just indigestion.
Still, it is with a renewed lusting that I'm back in the saddle and the stuff I have been writing recently (yesterday in particular) is still pretty darn good. And a little ego-massage from the semi-interested parties has only plumped up my creativity feathers.
Wednesday, April 09, 2008
This...
...cheered me up so, so much.
He's just being a goof on a slide, which is what I needed to see because, aren't we all just goofs on a slide?
He's just being a goof on a slide, which is what I needed to see because, aren't we all just goofs on a slide?
Tuesday, April 08, 2008
"You're kidding me..."
Sometimes my faith in humanity is pushed to its limits.
I don't believe people are naturally good. I think people are naturally indifferent. And then some shithead comes along and has me start to doubt even that.
At my kids' pre-school, we had an empty water bottle where people deposited their pocket change. All the money collected in the bottle was to be used to buy books for the classrooms. I say "was" because at some point in the last two weeks, some shithead emptied the bottle of the collected money and made off with it, putting the empty bottle back where they found it.
Listen, times are hard for all of us, but there was probably $40 in this thing, made up of nickels and dimes, and it was all to spent on books for pre-schoolers. It was advertised as such.
I have a few hopes about this situation. To hope for someone to get guilty and give the money back? Not a chance. If you're enough of a turd to take it in the first place, you have no remorse. What I hope is that $40 in change was taken by an opportunist, and not someone (God forbid, a parent at the school) who knew it was there and what it was for. And I hope whoever took it really needed it, more than the three-to-five-year-olds they stole the money from.
And I hope karma kicks the living bejesus out of them. In front of their girlfriend. And shits in their shoes.
* The title of this post is a direct quote from everyone at the school I have told about this. I discovered the theft last week, but wanted to be sure there was no mistake/miscommunication. There wasn't.
I don't believe people are naturally good. I think people are naturally indifferent. And then some shithead comes along and has me start to doubt even that.
At my kids' pre-school, we had an empty water bottle where people deposited their pocket change. All the money collected in the bottle was to be used to buy books for the classrooms. I say "was" because at some point in the last two weeks, some shithead emptied the bottle of the collected money and made off with it, putting the empty bottle back where they found it.
Listen, times are hard for all of us, but there was probably $40 in this thing, made up of nickels and dimes, and it was all to spent on books for pre-schoolers. It was advertised as such.
I have a few hopes about this situation. To hope for someone to get guilty and give the money back? Not a chance. If you're enough of a turd to take it in the first place, you have no remorse. What I hope is that $40 in change was taken by an opportunist, and not someone (God forbid, a parent at the school) who knew it was there and what it was for. And I hope whoever took it really needed it, more than the three-to-five-year-olds they stole the money from.
And I hope karma kicks the living bejesus out of them. In front of their girlfriend. And shits in their shoes.
* The title of this post is a direct quote from everyone at the school I have told about this. I discovered the theft last week, but wanted to be sure there was no mistake/miscommunication. There wasn't.
Monday, April 07, 2008
To Nap or Not To Nap
Sometimes it feels like my wife is wishing my son's nap away. She constantly reminds me that it won't last forever, and "wouldn't it be better if he slept through the night instead?"
I'm no fool. If his sister is anything to go by, I have maybe six more months of naps from him before he no longer needs it. But that nap time is fast becoming my favorite time of the day. It's almost irrelevant if he sleeps through the night anyway. I never do.
People say I'm lucky that he still naps for at least three hours a day. But put it this way - if he didn't, we would be living in a rat-infested hell hole with no food in the fridge and I would be wearing dirty pauper's rags as clothes. Not because I spend the time when he's asleep cleaning, shopping, cooking and doing laundry. Far from it.
When he closes his eyes at about 1:30 every afternoon, I do what I have to do. This is often:
Watch SportsCenter
Watch Harvey Birdman: Attorney At Law (thank you, DVR)
Watch the Yanks in a day game
Write
Check out hot photos of Natalie Portman, Julia Louis Dreyfus and Sarah Silverman
Play card games with daughter
Play Wii with daughter
Eat a big sandwich
But it is because I spend his naptime doing this self-pampering stuff that I can spend time during the time when he's awake:
Cleaning the kitchen (twice a day - upon waking, then after dinner)
Carrying dirty clothes down to the basement, bringing clean ones up, folding them, putting them away
Shopping
Reminding my son he needs to go potty (to avoid making more dirty clothes)
Read (Madeline books and anything with big trucks in)
Pouring Cheerios into bowls
Making a big sandwich
The day his nap dries up will mean a whole new outlook on my day. And I'm not looking forward to it.
I'm no fool. If his sister is anything to go by, I have maybe six more months of naps from him before he no longer needs it. But that nap time is fast becoming my favorite time of the day. It's almost irrelevant if he sleeps through the night anyway. I never do.
People say I'm lucky that he still naps for at least three hours a day. But put it this way - if he didn't, we would be living in a rat-infested hell hole with no food in the fridge and I would be wearing dirty pauper's rags as clothes. Not because I spend the time when he's asleep cleaning, shopping, cooking and doing laundry. Far from it.
When he closes his eyes at about 1:30 every afternoon, I do what I have to do. This is often:
Watch SportsCenter
Watch Harvey Birdman: Attorney At Law (thank you, DVR)
Watch the Yanks in a day game
Write
Check out hot photos of Natalie Portman, Julia Louis Dreyfus and Sarah Silverman
Play card games with daughter
Play Wii with daughter
Eat a big sandwich
But it is because I spend his naptime doing this self-pampering stuff that I can spend time during the time when he's awake:
Cleaning the kitchen (twice a day - upon waking, then after dinner)
Carrying dirty clothes down to the basement, bringing clean ones up, folding them, putting them away
Shopping
Reminding my son he needs to go potty (to avoid making more dirty clothes)
Read (Madeline books and anything with big trucks in)
Pouring Cheerios into bowls
Making a big sandwich
The day his nap dries up will mean a whole new outlook on my day. And I'm not looking forward to it.
Wednesday, April 02, 2008
Long Story Short
For the last month or so, the future of my novel "I Got You, Babe" has been in question. This week I found out it won't be published this June after all.
To cut a long story short (as Tony Hadley once sang) my publisher went into liquidation on Monday and my book rights have reverted back to me. This doesn't mean it's all over - some of my fellow authors with my former publisher have already been snapped up another house.
I haven't lost anything, except a little enthusiasm - and that will come back. And, as you will know if you read this blog, I have two more projects that will be done by this summer.
Sure, it's not good news - and the launch party BBQ in our back yard is now just a party BBQ in the back yard - but it's not terrible news either. And I'm not just saying that to soften the blow. I was pissed off and feared the worst when I first got wind of what was going on at my publisher. Since then the not-knowing was far more taxing than finally finding out I wasn't going to be published after all. In the end, it was a relief.
Sure, I'll take your sympathy and well-wishes and "what bastard luck!"s, but I'm fine and if I never find a home for it I (almost) won't mind, because if you read between the lines, IGYB is MY story and I needed to write it so I could write everything else I've written since.
That said, you can bet your left nut I'm going to push to get it published because the hardest part for me is that I feel like I've let a lot of people down. People like you, reading this now, gave me the energy to get the story written and keep pushing when I felt shitty. I'm sorry this happened. I'll put it right if I can.
To cut a long story short (as Tony Hadley once sang) my publisher went into liquidation on Monday and my book rights have reverted back to me. This doesn't mean it's all over - some of my fellow authors with my former publisher have already been snapped up another house.
I haven't lost anything, except a little enthusiasm - and that will come back. And, as you will know if you read this blog, I have two more projects that will be done by this summer.
Sure, it's not good news - and the launch party BBQ in our back yard is now just a party BBQ in the back yard - but it's not terrible news either. And I'm not just saying that to soften the blow. I was pissed off and feared the worst when I first got wind of what was going on at my publisher. Since then the not-knowing was far more taxing than finally finding out I wasn't going to be published after all. In the end, it was a relief.
Sure, I'll take your sympathy and well-wishes and "what bastard luck!"s, but I'm fine and if I never find a home for it I (almost) won't mind, because if you read between the lines, IGYB is MY story and I needed to write it so I could write everything else I've written since.
That said, you can bet your left nut I'm going to push to get it published because the hardest part for me is that I feel like I've let a lot of people down. People like you, reading this now, gave me the energy to get the story written and keep pushing when I felt shitty. I'm sorry this happened. I'll put it right if I can.
Tuesday, April 01, 2008
This year's April Fool e-mail
Names have been omitted to protect the 80% of recipients who are SUCKERS.
***
Hey all -
I have some awesome news about “Sub-Urban Sub-Species!”
After the successful pitch following the You Tube thing (when the “pilot” episode got more than 7 million hits last month and was named the NYT Buzz Worthy Video for March), CBS have officially commissioned a TV series to air in Fall 2009!
I know I’ve sent the link to the You Tube thing to everyone I know at least six times – but the plot for the series will follow a pre-historic time traveler who stumbles on a murder plot to kill the Queen of England. The format is a little like 24 in that every episode follows one day in Ugg’s life, but it gets complicated because at every commercial break, the time period changes, just like in the pilot when it jumped from 2012 back to World War I when Ugg used the crystal rune amulet.
Filming starts this summer in Allendale, Paramus (pending a permit to use Paramus Park after hours) and in North London where I grew up. The casting is kinda top secret still for another week or so, but Laura spotted the Variety story and... Well, I can’t deny Patrick Dempsey is interested :) However, Natalie Portman is filming a sequel to The Other Boleyn Girl, so she was unavailable (which was too bad for two reasons...) - but please keep that to yourself. We don’t want our second choice to know she was second choice :)
Here’s the extra exciting news – we will need extras for filming! Like when that sitcom “Ed” was filmed in Allendale, Paul and I will try to use local people as “in-jokes” during episodes. The Pettinato house will be the main base of operations for the MHWAH (the group hunting Ugg through time) while the exterior of the Fell House will be used (the interior will be in a studio) for the female lead’s house.
If you are going to be around the week of July 7-11 and would like to be in the show, please let me know BEFORE NOON TODAY. You will need an Equity card if you want a speaking role, but I can help speed that process up. You can get the details of applying for a card at http://www.actorsequity.org/Benefits
Thanks for all the well wishes – I will be in London starting tomorrow to assist with casting there, but I will be able to check my e-mail, so please let me know ASAP!
Adam K
***
Hey all -
I have some awesome news about “Sub-Urban Sub-Species!”
After the successful pitch following the You Tube thing (when the “pilot” episode got more than 7 million hits last month and was named the NYT Buzz Worthy Video for March), CBS have officially commissioned a TV series to air in Fall 2009!
I know I’ve sent the link to the You Tube thing to everyone I know at least six times – but the plot for the series will follow a pre-historic time traveler who stumbles on a murder plot to kill the Queen of England. The format is a little like 24 in that every episode follows one day in Ugg’s life, but it gets complicated because at every commercial break, the time period changes, just like in the pilot when it jumped from 2012 back to World War I when Ugg used the crystal rune amulet.
Filming starts this summer in Allendale, Paramus (pending a permit to use Paramus Park after hours) and in North London where I grew up. The casting is kinda top secret still for another week or so, but Laura spotted the Variety story and... Well, I can’t deny Patrick Dempsey is interested :) However, Natalie Portman is filming a sequel to The Other Boleyn Girl, so she was unavailable (which was too bad for two reasons...) - but please keep that to yourself. We don’t want our second choice to know she was second choice :)
Here’s the extra exciting news – we will need extras for filming! Like when that sitcom “Ed” was filmed in Allendale, Paul and I will try to use local people as “in-jokes” during episodes. The Pettinato house will be the main base of operations for the MHWAH (the group hunting Ugg through time) while the exterior of the Fell House will be used (the interior will be in a studio) for the female lead’s house.
If you are going to be around the week of July 7-11 and would like to be in the show, please let me know BEFORE NOON TODAY. You will need an Equity card if you want a speaking role, but I can help speed that process up. You can get the details of applying for a card at http://www.actorsequity.org/Benefits
Thanks for all the well wishes – I will be in London starting tomorrow to assist with casting there, but I will be able to check my e-mail, so please let me know ASAP!
Adam K
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