smacky and bucky

Halloween used to be about the candy, then it was about the parties, then it had no meaning at all, then it was the annoying night when I had to pass out candy while the dog barked and I was trying to watch horror movies on TV.

And now? Now it's about the kids again, except I'm not the kid.

We've been to two Halloween parties this week, and it's not even Halloween yet! The kids tend to gravitate to their own size, which is hilarious to watch!

There was a children's parade scheduled in our neighborhood for Saturday afternoon, but it was snowing. Hard! Luckily they had a backup plan, and we all converged in a giant empty room at the church in the neighborhood and "partied" there. (By partied, I mean the kids ran like crazy, hopped up on candy, while the adults stood and watched.) We were given tickets when we arrived, and they had a raffle at the end. And we won. Us, the couple who didn't attend a single neighborhood event before we had our baby, won a pretty nice prize...

A bottle of champagne, two bottles of French wine, and random candy in a plastic crate. We actually had our other number called two prizes later, but I really didn't want to be an asshole, so I raised my hand and said "It's us, but we pass. Let someone else win." I don't know if everyone else appreciated the gesture. Maybe I should have grabbed another prize and ran for the door. Oh well, good karma for being a good guy.

Tomorrow evening we're treat-or-treating until the boy is too tired to continue. Then we'll eat all his candy. He's 13 months old. He doesn't get to keep it. (Cue evil laugh: AHHHHHH-HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!)

I'm enjoying the second season of Walking Dead. Some people complain that it's more a soap opera with zombies than a zombie show, and they're sort of missing the point that that's exactly what it is! I watched the second episode of the new season last night after the boy fell asleep. If money were no object, I'd get those giant volumes of the Walking Dead Omnibus. (Omnibuses? Omnibi? Singular is the plural too?) [Omnibuses is the correct answer, for those playing at home!]

I can handle all the weeping and crying and talking, because it is just the lull between bad-ass moments like the redneck dude who uses a crossbow to silently kill zombies. A crossbow!

Need to write a new post, darn it! Okay, so here we go:

My kid is awesome!

• He dances in public when he hears music and all the mommies around swoon.
• He breaks a cookie in half so he can hold equal amounts in each hand while he eats it.
• He smiles at other kids instinctively.

And all this was just yesterday afternoon!

Feeling much better. I did not get it checked (and yes, it occurs to me now that that was the same "let's wait and see" attitude that killed Jim Henson!) but thankfully I'm still here. Got a flu shot on the 18th at work, so hopefully now I'm indestructible!

Something a little gross: Last night I had leftover Chinese food for dinner, and I heated it up in the microwave. We got a new microwave a few months ago, and the thing is apparently super-strong. Anyway, a few bites into it I noticed that the chicken did not taste like chicken anymore. I wondered if it was possible that the microwaves broke down the chemical composition of the meat to the point that it was no longer chicken. And if it wasn't chicken anymore, then what was it?

Yeah, it went into the trash after that train of thought. Yuck.

Watching hockey, baby is asleep, and except for the unnerving fact that I can't take a deep breath (literally. I am physically unable to take a deep breath. It's like someone is sitting on my chest), all is right with my world. I would be much more concerned about the whole "can't breath in because my lung capacity has apparently dropped to about 20%" thing if my wife hadn't described the exact same symptom last week in herself. So I'm cautiously optimistic it will abate without incident. In the meantime, I won't be running any marathons.

I feel like I should have something interesting to write about, but I have been busy. Work is busy (but good!), and the boy is teething like crazy with a small cold too, and L has a cold also, so home isn't the Rancho Relaxo, if you know what I'm saying!

I received two books for my birthday, both which I wanted but don't know when I'll get the opportunity to read:




Right now they're sitting unread (on a high shelf, because if Henry gets a hold of it, it goes in his mouth to be chewed on!).

I also received the original Star Wars trilogy on BluRay (with only a single commentary as an extra on each? I needed to get the big box set to get the other extras? SCREW YOU, LUCAS!).

My birthday is on Sunday. And I am turning 40. FORTY!

Let that sink in for a minute.

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Holy crap, right?

I don't feel anywhere near that old. In some ways I still feel very young. I love the art of Jack Kirby, Yo Gabba Gabba!, movies and books about zombies, and science fiction in general.

But you know what? When I was a teen, I probably would have kept a lot of that to myself. I don't remember high school fondly. I felt awkward and lonely and unpopular. I wanted to fit in. I wanted a girlfriend.

It wasn't until years later I finally realized I have to be myself. The rise in "geek culture" (despite the fact that a good portion of it is due to companies trying to make it hip in order to tap into the geek disposable income) has felt very liberating. I put a graphic novel on my Amazon wish list without hesitation. I wear a T-shirt we made with Muno's face on it proudly. Age brings experience and confidence. And the knowledge that I wasted so much time in my school years fretting over nothing.

This was pre-internet time, folks. I couldn't find forums where I could discuss Doctor Who or Batman. I was a kid in a smallish town that happened to be the home base of Jerry Falwell and the "moral majority." Can you imagine? He fought our cable getting MTV because it was sinful! I went to college in another town, came back for a year, went to get an M.A. in another town, then joined the Peace Corps and went to Africa. That's when I felt like I was finally free. In that small town, I was largely in class with the same people from kindergarten to 12th grade. That's not an exaggeration. All the girls dated older guys. Guys who could drive.

Going thousands of miles away was an adventure on so many levels. No one knew me! I was a blank slate. Kate discusses in her blog post for today the idea of "dropping out."And she is spot-on. Escaping everything I was up to that point in my early mid-20s saved me. I didn't reinvent myself. I just returned accepting the parts of me I had held close to the vest. Having seen a larger part of the world, I returned aware of how much our worldview (and our view of ourselves) is dictated to us by television, advertising, and the government.

I moved to the nation's capital without any job leads. I met an incredible girl through a fellow Peace Corps friend. I went from temping at an art school, to being a glorified receptionist at a foundation, to becoming an editorial assistant in the publication branch of that foundation (and learning all the ropes from a super-demanding boss I was happy to escape but grateful I had worked for), to where I am now (and have been for the past eight years).

As Steve Jobs is quoted on Kate's post:

Again, you can’t connect the dots looking forward; you can only connect them looking backwards. So you have to trust that the dots will somehow connect in your future. You have to trust in something — your gut, destiny, life, karma, whatever. This approach has never let me down, and it has made all the difference in my life.

Amen. If I hadn't decided to get off my butt and get student loans and get my master's I wouldn't have seen the flyer for the Peace Corps outside the office of my thesis advisor. If I hadn't joined the Peace Corps I wouldn't have met Laura's college roommate in Africa, so I wouldn't have met Laura two years later through her college roommate, so we wouldn't have gotten married and had our little guy. See? Connecting the dots looking back. I certainly didn't have a plan at the time!

And this reminds me of a song, so I'll make this a song post! One of my favorite bands is Big Country. One-hit wonders in America, but they made a lot of really good albums that are loved by their fans. Lead singer Stuart Adamson (RIP) committed suicide in 2001. But he could write lyrics that read like poetry. Songs about pride, faith, strength, and belief in yourself. Here's the song I thought of: "Leap of Faith" (a live performance)



I know you have the strength in you
The love to make that leap of faith
The time is right to let it go
Make that simple leap of faith

Sometimes that simple leap of faith makes ALL the difference in the world.

And yeah, I'm about to turn 40!

I love this production shot of the cast of Alien. They must have been doing a wardrobe test or attempt at a publicity shot. I believe there was only one scene in the movie where the entire cast was together on-screen (the infamous cafeteria "chestburster" scene!).


We catch him every now and then looking at his books and chattering quietly to himself. Lately he's had a fascination with Mr. Brown Can Moo!

We ended up getting into downtown DC Saturday AND Sunday, and that is so unlike us! We had a ball. Saturday we went to the "Crafty Bastards" festival. It gave me more creative ideas than actually making me want to buy anything. It rained and rained and rained, but we had Henry covered in his stroller, and we asked for one of the balloons they had with the logo on it, and he LOVES balloons, so he was totally happy the entire time.

Sunday we went to the Turkish festival. It wasn't raining, but it was gray and windy. We saw a friend who was in the Peace Corps with me and just happens to be Laura's cousin (I'll tell the story again sometime) and her 2-year-old daughter. But while Henry was awake the whole time, the 2-year-old slept the ENTIRE time! We never saw her wake up!