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More Travels

by Matthew on 07.31.12

Sometimes it seems I have to choose between blogging about life and actually living it. We’ve just returned home from our latest trip, one that started with a drive to the Comfort Inn at the Baltimore airport last Tuesday evening and culminated in a 16-hour drive up the Eastern Seaboard Sunday.

Early Wednesday morning, I set off by myself for two days in Jackson, Mississippi, where I did the sort of shadowy, mysterious professional work that is left purposefully vague on these pages.

I will tell you that I got a chance to see the beautiful Mississippi State House.

And the home of Eudora Welty.

Thursday evening I flew to Atlanta to meet my mom and sister, who were there setting up for my grandma’s 90th birthday bash that was to take place over the weekend. Robbi and the three kids drove from Chestertown to Atlanta and met me there on Friday.

Here is the birthday girl.

The entire family gathered, mom’s siblings, their kids, and the 14 (and counting) great-grandkids. The twin themes were food and babies.

As for food, we were treated to a low country boil, in this case, shrimp, sausage, potatoes, onions, carrots, and corn seasoned to perfection, boiled together in a big pot, and spread out on the tabletop for all to admire.

Also on the food front was baked applewood bacon.

As for babies, there were plenty to go around. August and Ardian are the two youngest among my mom’s grandkids.

Kato and Orin are the two oldest boys.

And let’s not forget Alden, who took a faceplant before skidding across the pavement at the Greenville Zoo (but is making a swift recovery, in case you’re wondering).

The festivities took place on the banks of beautiful Lake Lanier (site of various boating events during the ’96 Atlanta Olympics).

We swam.

We played games.

(Mom was the undisputed champion of hula.)

It was a chance for cousins to commune.

For my brother Alex to meet August.

And for me to spend some time with my amazing siblings (and the amazing lady that we all call mom).

We’re home again for a few days. On Thursday, Robbi and the kids are heading to Lake George and I am heading to bed to sleep for a week.

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Alone at the Barn Again

by Tilly on 07.28.12

Robbi, Matthew, and the crew are out of town again for a few days, so here I am feeding cats and soaking up the silence. Without the Idiots here to assign tasks, or the children to show me tricks, all I can do is notice the play of daylight on the discreet, mundane objects that are the stuff of life.

This is where Oscar the cat gets his food. The color of the dish is a bright, deep red that shows up frequently around here on such things as plant pots, doors, and rugs.

I noticed this conversation of lines and colors just above Oscar’s dish. There’s that red again in a ribbon that hangs from a curtain rod. Its end once wrapped around a tiny teddy bear, acting as a cat toy.

After noticing these quiet, but delightful scenes I turned around and saw this on the floor. Remnants of Alden as she left them.

I wasn’t looking for any of these things. They just stuck out to me. It’s easier to notice the dynamic interaction between nicely lighted objects when no one is around. No one except cats.

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Alden By the Water

by Matthew on 07.26.12

My girl has spirit, and sometimes she lets it run wild.

As shown.

A closer look.

Of spirit, there are many faces.

I happen to like this one.

But the simple, quiet smile must always give way to the primal voice of the little girl unhinged. It is the privilege of the little girl to yell and smile and show the world her colors.

It is the privilege of her father to behold it.

Note: The photo(s) in this post were taken by photographer/blogger/developer/promoter of clean code Jiho Sohn. I encourage you to check out his site.

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Me and My Boys

by Matthew on 07.25.12

Not every person gets to have one son, let alone two. One has his mother’s middle name for a first name and the other has his mother’s last name for a middle name. One is in the 3rd percentile for height and the other is in the 90th. One will eat anything and the other wants to eat everything but lacks teeth. Both poop in their pants on a regular basis.

Two boys. Two sons. One for each arm, one for each shoulder.

I am a lucky guy, and you bet I know it.

Note: The photo in this post was taken by photographer/blogger/developer/promoter of clean code Jiho Sohn. I encourage you to check out his site.

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Readjusting

by Robbi on 07.24.12

We went into the kids’ bedroom last night to check on Alden and Kato (generally, they “put themselves to bed” which means we sometimes find them asleep on the floor on top of a pile of books and toys). Apparently Alden is still on Alaska time and clime – her choice of pajamas suggests a real lack of appreciation for the current temperatures in Chestertown:

Or, perhaps it’s that now she’s back in her own spacious bed, she’s feeling the need to get snuggly, substituting in flannel pajamas and a wool hat for her two warm-blooded brothers.

Either way, I applaud her foresight – be it for the coming winter or the coming years (when she will have to share her 8′x8′ bedroom with both brothers).

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Puppies on the Tundra

by Matthew on 07.23.12

One of the highlights of this year’s trip to Alaska was the puppies.

Our neighbor Vern has a dog named Stella. This past winter, when the river was frozen over, Stella headed across the ice to Egegik for some extracurricular activities. The result, seven of the cutest illegitimate puppies I’ve ever had the pleasure to meet.

Once the fishing season got under way, Vern and his family slept on their fishing boat, and so they asked us to take care of the pups.

Alden and Kato jumped at the opportunity.

They were hungry little suckers.

And dirty. Alden took it upon herself to give them each a good scrub.

The puppies were all available for adoption. The kids lobbied hard for the right to take one home, but I was unwavering in my assertion that the barn has no vacancy.

August seemed to speak their language.

About halfway through our time in Alaska, two of the puppies disappeared in the night. We’re crossing our fingers that they managed to find themselves a good home, but we fear that the eagles or foxes might have had something to do with it. The other five have all been adopted, not bad survival odds for the rough and tumble tundra.

There are more pictures of puppies to be had, but I can’t find them now, so I leave you with a shot of the kids heading down Vern’s road to the water, where we often went, after feeding the puppies, to throw stones and chase seagulls. And watch the fishermen on the water.

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The Solution, Part 3

by Matthew on 07.20.12

To recap:

1) Matthew is ridiculous.

2) Did I say ridiculous? I meant horrifying.

3) Did I say horrifying? I meant totally skeezy.

I think he believed that the new mustache might give him the added testosterone boost of this guy:

I was worried that if I gave him an inch, he’d show up tomorrow in short shorts and a tank top. I put my foot down. On his neck. And removed the offending mustache and any dreams of brute manliness he might have had.

It worked. Now he’s back to washing dishes, doing the laundry, and looking after babies like he’s supposed to.

That’s my kind of man.

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The Solution, Part 2

by Matthew on 07.20.12

To recap:

1) Earlier this afternoon, I lost patience with my facial hair.

2) I did something about it.

Following the initial shear, the feedback flowed in on this site, via Facebook, through email, and from across the room (Robbi and Tilly were emotionally traumatized).

3) I ventured forth, seeking new definitions of sublime.

Apparently, Robbi is ready to revoke our marriage license and will sell me to the highest bidder. Personal checks and PayPal transactions are both ok.

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The Solution, Part 1

by Matthew on 07.20.12

Referencing the aforementioned problem of my post-tundra shag, here is the solution I came up with.

I don’t know what to call it, but I’m awfully fond of the results.

Although, it seems like something might be missing. Something like the LA-chic sunglasses sent my way by writer friend Joshua Wolf Shenk.

These shades provide a certain swagger, a certain confidence, which, when combined with the new too-cool-to-have-a-name facial hair configuration make me, basically, capable of jumping over anything.

Not sure whether to stop here or keep going. Suggestions are welcome.

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The Problem

by Matthew on 07.20.12

Three weeks on the tundra will do this to a guy.

It’s time to reclaim my face.

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