I put the death jaw on an apple in 2002.
(If you are reading “Apartment Life,” then please see a new, healthy chunk of it I like to call Part Ten)
Happy Hallowe’en.
I have a food tip for today’s festivities. It’s something we found in a magazine a few years ago, and we only made it once. Still, it’s in the spirit and it’s very sweet.
Pumpernickel – dark German sourdough bread. Its name means “devil’s fart.”
Discuss.
Ben and I enjoy an observation tower’s view at the Aransas National Wildlife Refuge
(Readers of “Apartment Life” may click here to read Part Nine)
I forgot to mention something in my last few posts.
Ben peed standing up for the first time. Then for the second time. For both, he took aim and peed right in the toilet bowl.
The next couple times? He peed in the toilet bowl, around the rim of the toilet bowl, on the toilet tank, on the floor… you get the picture.
In fact, the last effort went something like this:
Ben thrills to the excitement of sitting in wet sand, sans Daddy.
(Note to “Apartment Life” readers. No installment today. I already have much of the next chapter in my head, so stay tuned.)
For just a few fleeting hours, I took a vacation from the vacation today.
My original intent was to go to the Padre Island National Seashore with the same crowd that went back out to the beach late Monday afternoon — Shannon, her mom, Aunt D, and Ben. At the last minute, as they loaded the last of our picnic lunch supplies into the cooler, I backed out. I figured I would just sit around for a couple hours or so and take it easy. It’s the kind of thing I enjoy immensely when I get a chance.
Photo by Ben’s mommy
(NOTE: To those reading “Apartment Life” — thanks for reading thus far. No chapter today. Don’t fret, however. I have something in mind. Anybody who hasn’t read it, you may start at the page I created for it.)
Monday
I sit typing this after getting up at 2:40 a.m. At about 9:30, I fell asleep just a foot or so above and to the left of my sweetly sleeping boy. (No, I can’t levitate — I was on a twin bed, he on an inflatable mattress.) Now, at this wee hour, I sit on the loft, determined to keep this trip journal from becoming my yoke. Shannon’s Uncle J snores lightly from the living room below.
On a day that was perfect, albeit a bit cool, Ben finally warmed to the trip.
(NOTE: To continue reading “Apartment Life,” click here)
You get to your vacation spot — your beach vacation spot, and your host informs you there’s a red tide in that should clear out soon. Do you:
Don’t tell any bad people, but we’re going on vacation. Judging from the picture above, it’s safe to say you never know what we might see.
(NOTE: “Apartment Life” has a new installment)
In the past seven days, Ben has seen grandparents from far away, and from very far away. When one of these folks walks into the room, Ben’s mood ratchets up above the tenth notch. His voice goes higher, if that’s possible, and he talks so fast he almost stutters through that megawatt smile.
Inspired by my own grandfather’s recently re-discovered recordings of family events and tapes my brother and I sent to him, I armed myself with my Olympus DS20 digital recorder (just like the DS2, but with twice the storage space) and my Rode VideoMic. I let Ben and his grandfolk do all the work, and captured a few choice moments that I hope will live on at least as long as Granddad’s tapes.
Human beings are astoundingly resilient, but the things we fill our world with make us frail.
I’m not one to post news items very much, but something happened Wednesday that moved my wife and me.
