Knocking the Rust Off

Annual Buffett Show

I am not even sure where to start.  It turns out that I have been on a six month vacation.  I'm pretty sure I can still spell and potentially still throw a line of prose or two together to get this thing rolling again.  I have so much to spit out I could probably babble on and on for a solid 47 pages but you don't have the time to laugh that hard and I don't have the talent to string that many coherent pages together or I would be getting paid to sit here and drink wine all night, while pretending to write.  So let's get this party started.

First day of school!

First and foremost we have an announcement to make.  May I have a drum roll please?  My wife had an ultrasound yesterday for some stomach pain.  And behold, it's a Christmas miracle, she's pregnant, which totally ruins our chance of a great show on Mtv called I'm 20-something and knocked up but I don't know it.  So, there you have it.  Junior number three spent the entire 45 minutes with both his hands and feet in front of his face or as we coined it, a never ending money shot. But alas we're not those 21st century people that are d.y.i.n.g. to find out what they are having.  We're having a kid and he has 2 arms and legs and everything.  The shorty is also very flexible.  In another 20 weeks or so we'll find out the sex when it comes out of the womb like a normal person.  Did I mention that we're due on Super Bowl Sunday?  I have left cab fare on the credenza for Care to make sure she can get to the hospital safely.  Now that's true love.

See the Q shark stalking??

Gavin is slowing moving out of diapers.  Hooray and just in time to continue buying diapers.  Soooo awesome.  He's walking around telling people he's potty trained but not poop trained, which means the awesome part of potty training and by awesome I mean the really stinky, disgusting gross part - ya he's not good at that part it and isn't going so well.  You slap a pair of whitey tighties on that kid and he'll pee 78 times in an hour but he'll go hide out somewhere and leave a nice juicy turd in there for you to clean up.  That part isn't super cool.  Not cool at all.  Not even a little bit cool.  However, he's pooped in the toilet that last 3 out of 4 times and that's some serious progress.  We are bribing, big time bribing to turn that 75 into 100%.  I'd slip the kid a $50 per squat in the toilet at this point.  Hopefully the twins will potty train faster.  Kidding, just kidding; not about the $50's, the twins.

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Q-dog lost his first tooth a couple of weeks ago.  We really didn't know he had a loose tooth but one day he's sitting on the couch munching on some Chester Cheetos and had a total Q-drama-freak-out because he popped that suckah 79% out.  He literally stopped eating for the next 36 hours for fear he'd lost this piece of ivory, porcelain, whatever a tooth is made out of, gold?  Care made him a lunch to take to school, because he wouldn't eat whatever they were serving and his first bite, the tooth ended up in the peanut butter samwhich.  The next thing I know I'm running to the bank because the tooth fairy is dropping cash like it's growing in the forest out back.  The average rate of a tooth fairy visit in America is $5 and some crazies are paying out C-notes.  Can I get a what the...??!?!?  And she made it rain at our house because the tooth fairy pays baby, especially if it's your first tooth.  Parenting tip #820, pay in singles - they can't count and it looks like a lot of moolah.

Still got it

Shortly after departing with his hard earned enamel Q had his first day of school.  Yup, shorty number one has already graduated to big kid school. Believe it.  His teacher seems pretty normal so I don't anticipate any knock down brawls about how awesome he is and how it would be totally impossible for him to get into any kind of trouble.  He's had a total of 8 days so far and it's wearing him out, which is awesome for us because he actually crashes out at a reasonable hour.  And it only took 5 years so we're sleeping again.  Can I get an AMEN!?  Right, we're having a baby in 4 months.  I'm trying to focus on my glass of wine being half full so cut us some slack.

That's a pretty solid update for the last six months.  Not really, but I have to save some material for later.  I'm fairly certain I'll write more often so stay tuned. Did I mention I went fly boarding?  Pretty darn awesome.  Check fly boarding here.  And it's every bit as cool as it looks.

Tourney Time!

Before I started to fill out my bracket tonight I was thinking Iowa really has the kind of team that could make a nice run this year.  Then I printed it out and realized they didn't make the tourney at all.  They did win their first game of the NIT so there is that.  On the other hand, Wisconsin is a fifth seed and they have a pretty smooth ride to the Final Four.  Hopefully I didn't jinx them.  Did you know that Forbes listed Wisconsin the 7th most valuable college basketball team in all the land?  I can almost do one better.  Did you know that Cosmo named Mike Bruesewitz the 16th hottest player in the tourney?  Did I mention he plays for Wisconsin?  Wisco, they have all the hot gingers.  So if you're looking for a really tall Cosmo-hot rich ginger than start watching Wisco basketball.  First game is Friday at 11:40 on that sports network - what is it called again??? - oh ya True TV.  That makes tons of sense.  True, true.

Anyway the whole thing gets under way tomorrow so we thought it would be fun to have Quinny fill out a bracket.  Well, let's just say that he picked a lot of upsets.  He's a fan of Florida so he picked both Miami and the University of Florida to make the Final Four.  (He also picked Florida Gulf Coast University to make it to the Sweet Sixteen).  Apparently, he's also a fan of New Mexico because he picked both New Mexico State and New Mexico to make the Final Four as well.  The eventual champion?  That would be Florida.  I will be upset if he upsets me in our household tourney.  If he wins the million dollars, less so.

Fence is 4' Ugh!

It's a good thing 12 hours a day of TV is about to come on because winter won't let up!  It was a whopping 10 this morning to start our first day of spring.  Yowsers!  I don't think winter is ever going to end.  My buddies and I have Opening Day for the Brewers and a few other baseball games starting next Friday.  And we aren't soft yet either, presumably that comes later like when we hit our 40s, so we're talking about a solid six hours in the parking lot tailgating in our newly built igloo.  Now we've been there plenty of times while it's snowing but the Brewers have never had to clear the parking lot of snow to let us in and the major snow removal project began today to get ready for the fans.  The good news is we won't need ice this year for the coolers or actually coolers at all.  The bad news is we are going to have to buy a sled to take the debauchery to a new level.

Speaking of bad news our oldest took our not so old friend Mr. iPad for a little ride through the tile.  Turns out the glass screen doesn't really care to take a four foot face first fall (how about that for some alliteration!) onto the impending doom below.  iPads and tile, can't we all just get along?  What to do?  I mean at this stage the whole fam is addicted to that thing.  So I take my sorry little tail to the Apple store and plead my case.  Guess what?  They don't really care you let your over-privledged four year old play with Dad's overpriced toy.  They did exchange it for another slightly less absurd priced new one but man that sucked.  So now we have to shell out for, and I mean this literally, a military style case that supposedly can take a shelling in Afghanistan and you just dust the debris off and go back to playing Angry Birds in the trenches.  Put me down for another $100, Alex!

PS  Did you hear the Badgers put Alabama on their football schedule?  I know right?  They play at Jerry's world.  I think I have to go. Don't tell my wife. 

I Roll it Slow

Dancing to the sweet jams of the lanes

As we brace ourselves for yet another impending winter storm (6-10 inches of more snow in the next 24 hours) we thank our lucky stars that we are fortunate enough to live in a place that has four seasons.  Oh, how I love the seasons.  The seasons are soooo beautiful!

As it's March and still holding steady at 24 degrees we are quickly running out of things to do.  Winterfest has come and gone, the escape to the Keys is behind us, sledding is growing monotonous and shoveling is developing into far too tiresome of a task to tackle every day.  I feel like a professional body shoveling builder.  I could really use some HGH.  We need to start getting creative to stave off the "redrum" chants that are appearing with greater frequency on the weekends so we dug deep my friends, and came up with the greatest idea ever - bowling!  Bowling, believe it or not has been around in its present form since 1895, but potentially dates back as long ago as 3200 BC and both the Romans and Egyptians played a form of modern day bowling.  You didn't think you were going to get a history lesson did you? 

Muscling down the roll

My kids were immediately bowled over once they realized they could chuck over sized unbreakable balls at unassuming pins patiently waiting to get bulldozed over.  And get high fives for doing so.  Quinny picked up an eight pounder and mauled that bad boy into the perfect position on his chest including holding the ball correctly with three fingers and kablamo! down the alley it went.  We had three players but it quickly turned into Quinny rolling two out of three balls and doing so with some decent consistency.  He's got a bit of a hook to his roll but if he can straighten that out he's got 300 written all over his game. 

Gavin was more of a granny-use-two-hands to get a solid roll down the middle kind of high roller.  It gave him some solid control but often he didn't get enough strength behind it.  In short he needs to find the weight room.  With a few more reps of curls in the 2.5 to 5 pound range he could really be an outstanding player. 

Steeeeriiiike!

We only had two instances that didn't go as planned  There was about an inch step to get onto the alley and Q was focused on getting his fingers in the correct position while he was walking up to the lane and took a straight up header falling flat on his face while holding the ball.  Fortunately the ball was immediately jettisoned and his man sized chest broke his fall saving his pearly whites.  It could've been a face full of toothless wonder for the next eight years.  Gavin, is a pretty smooth cat.  The only bowling faux pas that he created was not getting enough spin on his roll and stranding Mr. Fluorescent Orange in the middle of the lane, which required lane rolling personnel to take the long lonely walk down the lane to retrieve Mr. FO.  It was slightly embarrassing, for Gavin, but we told him his 78 was a totally respectable score for a two year old.  In short we had a couple of turkeys throwing turkeys.  Good times.

The Keys

If you haven't been to the Keys I'm not sure what you are waiting for.  If you listen to the news there is impending doom coming your way so for a long weekend shelve your plans to stockpile weapons of mass destruction and put off building that bomb shelter for another weekend and get yourself down to paradise.  Did you know Key West is the southern most point in the US?  Do the tourist thing, have a vacation where getting a cocktail is your first, second and third priority.  You know there are roosters running all over town and there is nothing more entertaining than grabbing a beer and watching chickens cross the road while telling hilariously dumb jokes about, well, chickens crossing the road.  Did you know, on average there is roughly 7 degrees between the high and low in Key West?  I know, that sure does make packing easy!  Four days of speedos!

Care and I took a much needed winter breather to head down to one of our favorite places, Key West.  They say when you shake the US the weirdos fall down to the Keys.  Fine with me.  You're surrounded by pirates, music, art, the occasional cigar and people watching like you have never seen before.  The food is outstanding provided you enjoy seafood.  I had shrimp, oysters, crab, mahi-mahi (some may call it dolphin - it's not actually the flipper variety), grouper, sushi and who remembers what else.  It makes for a low cholesterol diet. 

We try to do something different every year.  This year we left as an impending blizzard moved into town.  That works right? The night before was not pleasant as we were glued to the weather channel praying to the vacation Gods that our plane would beat the storm.  Rules of flying, always take the earliest flight out you can stomach because when you get delayed/cancelled it means you'll be the first rebooked on the next flight(s).  Unfortunately the weather wasn't the only thing we were trying to keep down.  Gavin came home with the flu on Wednesday.  He threw up on Care and me at separate moments in time.  That's called team work.  I love it when that happens. 

Carrie woke up with the flu on Thursday morning around 4:30 am.  We needed to leave at 7:30 am to catch our flight.  The trooper that she was, packed her bags, tossed her cookies not once, twice but thrice and brought her luggage and a barf bag into the car for the ride to the airport.  What a champ!  The things you'll make yourself go through to leave the snowy part of the country in winter.  She made it through the travel day with no public displays of, well, there were no further incidents. 

Most of what went on down there is censored so I'll provide the PG version.  We rented a hog and cruised around the island stopping at various points and beaches.  We hung out at Hogs every night, our favorite haunt.  We saw Capt'n Tony's, got sloppy at Sloppy Joe's, saw a big tree, took not one but two sunset cruises, took a pic with Jimmy Buffett, saw dolphins, went to Irish Kevin's, one of us took a breakfast shot and we watched the Badgers sink a half court shot at the buzzer to beat #3 Michigan at the Key West Big Ten Pub (owned by a Wisco Alum!),. 

We requested Mustang Sally and for the second time in 3 weeks and were publicly chastised for our poor taste in music by the band.  Honestly, why do they ask for requests if they don't expect you to request Piano Man and Mustang Sally?  But seriously people stop requesting Piano Man and Mustang Sally.  And under no circumstances yell, "Free Biiiiiiiiird!!!!"  We found a pretty sweet boat you can rent for $37,000 a week and it came with  a helicopter (on the boat) you know to make a beer run if you needed it. 

Lastly, we went shopping.  Well, Carrie did.  I tried to stand there and be the money man.  The girl saw a mark.  She put a shirt on me and it was a pretty sweet shirt.  It was our first stop so Care set some dresses aside and the girl told me I looked really hot in the shirt so she would stash it with the other stuff.  It turns out it was a $200 shirt.  I didn't know they made $200 shirts.  All I kept thinking about was where do you wear a $200 shirt.  Right, right, right, at Hogs....  Get to the Keys.  You'll go and then you'll understand and then you'll thank me.

PS  I took the shirt back. Do you know how many beers a $200 shirt return can buy?

Sunday Fun Day

Gavin posing in his snow pants

I really need to write more blogs!  Not a day goes by that I don't feel guilty about not writing one.  I should've made a New Year's resolution to write more blogs.  I didn't.  Instead I made one to eat more cheese and I'm totally succeeding in that department.

The look out hole in the fort

Have you noticed winter slowly comes into your life but then like a stalker won't ever leave?  Everyone thinks fall is so nice; the leaves changing color, the cool nights, the bon fires, the Badgers going to the Rose Bowl and then it gets cold.  Then the snow comes.  Then it snows some more.  And some more.  And it's still snowing outside right now!  Our snow banks are as high as our pool fence.  In other words if you wanted to get over the fence you only have to walk up the snow bank and back down the snow bank on the other side and you can begin frolicking in the pool.

This Sunday we decided to take full effect of the snowy weather.  We had a super Sunday fun day. There was sledding. We built, and I don't want to brag here, but a pretty sensational snow fort with walls and everything.  There was a snow ball fight.  There were sled races. 

We did learn something about the owning of a dog and the snow, though.  It turns out during winter when you let the dog out every day, generally several times a day he's actually doing his business somewhere.  You think, hey, let's go sledding down this awesome hill with our kids.  You don't think, "hmmm, I wonder where the dog has been doing his business for the last 3 months?"  Have you heard of that old adage out of sight, out of mind.  Ya, that actually came to mind on fun day Sunday.

Luckster still has track speed!

There we were having the time of our lives.  We were laughing, making snow angels and chasing each other around in straight up Spiegelhoff euphoric merriment.  We decided to take some family runs down the old toboggan run.  Carrie and Q in the old skool red racer sled in front and Gavin and I in the sno-tastic-tube in back.  The four of us in one superb sno-train heading erratically down the hill...oh snikes!  And that's when it all came together.  The snow, the dog, the impending impacting tree, the myriad of times wondering where he was doing his business, the crash all meeting together in one juxtaposed, too warm of a day, melted snow moment. 

In the chaos of the poor steering from the folks up front, whom shall remain nameless Gavin and I were thrust to the front of the pack, backwards mind you, into the impending tree.  Being the father of the year type that I am, with my cat-like reflexes saw the impending impact and began to take evasive action.  I thrust my hands into the snow to create drag, friction, anything to avoid the ominous threat quickly approaching.  Eventually, with that quick thinking, we were able to thwart total demolishment.  We all took, perhaps for the first time on the whole run, a deep breath.  It was then that I peered down at those rock steady hands of steel that avoided this collision and noticed the poop.  There was a lot of poop.  We had discovered the lost patch of Stinks' sacred manure field, soon to be Carrie's well fertilized spring garden!  Can I get a collective Ewwwww!!!?  Ya, the positive was there was plenty of snow to "wash up" in. 

Folks there is a lesson to be learned here.  I'm not sure what it is but there is a fresh six inches of snow on the ground so problem solved!

Hobbies

 

Football season is coming to a close and for us Cheeseheads it's officially dead with a big fat fail to end the season against those pesky niners.  There are only 238 more days until the next Packer game, well, one that counts anyway so I'm hoping I'll have more time to blog.

It's ten degrees outside and I'm counting down the days until a plane drops me off in the Keys.  To get me in the spirit I thought I would put some Buffett on and tell you about some of my family's favorite hobbies.

I'll start with my wonderful wife who does so much good around this house it's blasphemous to talk about her bad habits but nobody said I was husband of the year. Father of the year, sure, but no one has accused me of being husband of the year.  Let me tell you about my wife's most recent distraction.  She has this fantastic new habit of trying to figure out how powerful our garbage disposal is.  She started out by tossing relatively normal stuff down there like left over food.  She graduated into chicken wing bones and plastic tops, like sippy cups.  This was all very entertaining for all of us.  She then decided to take it up a notch and move on to household items.  It started with paperclips.  They don't look all that intimidating but Mr. Garbage disposal didn't like that too much.  The first time the disposal jammed it took a few nice swears, a pair of pliers, some hard questioning like, "now why did you toss the paperclip into the disposal?  Uh-huh, and then why did you turn it on?  Right, right, but why did you keep it going right up until it jammed?  Oh, of course, you wanted to see if it was going to go down.  Makes total sense! 

Then the binder clip got tossed into the disposal.  I think the intoxicating opportunity of both plastic and metal formed into one sleek office supply item was too much for her and she couldn't help herself, so into the disposal it went.  Mr. Disposal with a grunt, a puff and a belch came to a screeching halt.  After much swearing this time, further questioning and many a pliers like instrument used to grab hold of it, Mr. Disposal refused to take any more abuse.  What to do, what to do?  A man grunt was released and there was only one thing left to do - take the whole garbage disposal apart.  Three hours later, much, much, much more choice language and miraculously the garbage disposal gods took pity on me and it was put back together and was back to operating.  I received a minor round of applause from my wife.  We put the wife in disposal rehab, packed up and moved to a new house.

Problem.  The new house has an gargantuan total gangsta' garbage disposal. Most are continuous feed, but this thing was batch feed.  It's a safety measure so when you're sticking your whole arm into the innards of the disposal to fish out things your wife fancies to throw in, it can't turn on and well, dispose of your hand.  It uses a magnetic lid/seal and that's what turns it on.  It's also a stage 3, believe it!, stage 3 disposal so there are three levels of chomping making sure no matter what is cascading down there this beast will chew it.  We thought the meetings were helping Care but I think the siren of the disposal was more than she could bear.  One day, while I was outside with the kids, they didn't need to see this, shoveling she broke.  194 days of unclogged disposal went down the drain and irresistibly she went for the whole coup de' grace, a full piece of silverware.  There was smoke.  There was fire.  There may or may not have been a minor explosion.  There was an insatiable itch that was finally scratched.  Kablamo!  My wife took out the Insinkerator Evolution Cover Control 9000.  Game, set, match.

Me, what's going on in here?  Wife, "nothin' why?"  I could tell by that capricious look something was up.  She couldn't hide it any longer.  The bead of sweat on her brow was her undoing.  She confessed.  "I did it!  I finally did it!  I fed a spoon to our disposal....and I liked it!"  I couldn't even figure out how she sucked Mr. Utensil so far down the disposal.  Oh, right she was testing all 3 stages. 

The disposal is so long that there is only about an inch of clearance from the bottom of the disposal to the cabinet so off to Home Depot for trip number one to buy a hex wrench.  Sure, I have 40 of them but not one that will fit with so little clearance.  So, as I'm perusing the shelves I decide no way I want to make multiple trips so I buy the biggest set they have.  I now have the sweetest set of SAE and metric hex wrenches one could ever aspire to have in their tool set.  Well, I get that baby turning and nothing.  It won't budge.  Guess what?  This thing is so cavernous I don't have a pliers long enough to reach that deep into it.  It's literally going to eat my pliers.  I said I only wanted to take one trip to Home Depot so I went to Lowes with both boys.  We grunted all the way there.  It was some sweet man time.  We buy the longest pliers they have and by that I mean I literally asked the tool department guy if this is the longest pliers he has.  With a slight wink, which was a little awkward I'll admit, he replied, you bet buddy.  I love this small town. We came home and did the only thing one could do in this kind of situation we, and by we I mean me, drank a beer.  New Glarus is to me like spinach is to Popeye.  The pupils dialated, a new found focus appeared, knuckles cracked and it was on.  With the right tools we were able to wrestle the silverware out of the disposal.  Viola!  My wife is back in rehab, I'm relatively certain I have every tool possible to disassemble, pry or destroy any stuck object in a garbage disposal and we can now go back to dumping all sorts of treasures back into our sink. 

I missed you guys too...

A little nervous on my new bike...

It's been a while, the weather has since turned frightful and I fear I may have to finally buy a pair of boots and take this whole Wisconsinite thing in earnest.  We are in store for a nice little blizzardgeddon.  I am prepared.  My father in law was all too nice and dropped off a snow blower and true to Wisconsin Packer form even my snow blower is green and gold.  The boys are excited to enjoy the winter weather.  The last time we had snow the pooch was afraid to walk or use the facilities in the fluffy white stuff forcing me to shovel him a restroom every time it snowed, along with a path to get there.  Gavin was just born and oblivious to the powder around him and Quentin was to afraid to even join me in a sled.  I, of course, was nearly allergic after so many years in Florida.  We all seemed to have taken on a new flake, as the case may be and look forward to skidding down the roadway tomorrow on our way to our respective schools or work locations, which all assure us will "be running as normal."  Hooray!

I have too much to catch up on.  Since I've been gone our eldest turned four and had a smashing good time with his Hulk themed birthday party.  Martha Stewart, my lovely wife, hand made a Hulkster pinata, party favors, hulk juice and pin the anger on the Hulk.  Okay, that last part was a little sarcasm.  She put a lot of green together and Quinny loved it.  The weather was unusually warm for Thanksgiving weekend and we gave him his first two wheeler so he was able to get some practice in before it cooled back down.  It took him a while to warm up to it but by the end of that Saturday he looked at the training wheels, back at me and asked, "Dad, can we take these things off now?"  Priceless.  I love his perseverance - it means never giving up, Dad.

I'm 5 (35, really)!

Just a handful of days later, on my half birthday, truly our best friend, Stinks turned 5.  He's right on my heels now and only a month or two behind me in age.  I should finally be able to wear him out.  I hope we get many more years of companionship with the Luckster as he's a fantastic part of the family.  The boys are able to use him as a stepping stool nearly every day and he never gets mad.  He only asks you wrestle (pronounced "wrastle)" with him once or twice a day in the evening after the boys go to bed.  Most nights I try to happily indulge him.  He can be found most days under Carrie's desk as she works from home keeping her feet warm and her heart warmer. 

After the festivities of Thankspigging, the most enjoyable of all holidays, died down we came up with, not the most original, but ingenious way to kill a Saturday during winter; host an ugly sweater party.  Friends, let me tell you, you must, must, must indulge in a night of such fancy.  We got together with our closest idiot friends, donned our ugliest best, went to the finest restaurant in town, a mansion on the lake, also on the national historic registry, enjoyed too many libations, ate until sufficiently gorged, and then stayed up too late enjoying the amusement of it all.  I forgot the entire restaurant staff voted including the piano player/singer, whom never actually stopped playing from the moment we walked in to vote (and toast!) the ugliest and a secondary award the ugliest that one would still wear.  But, alas, your literary entertainer painfully took a close third.  But the ol' noggin' has already been working over time for next year.  On top of our sweet, sweet sweaters, the Baker House, our place of fine dining offers a hat upon your liking when walking in to complete your simpleton attire.  It was quite an enjoyable evening.

I give you....great friends!!

And just in case the end of the world happens, and clearly, we are embarking on the end of the world I will write an homage to Earth tomorrow so everyone (please read before midnight Thursday night) can take one final read at the literary masterpiece that is this blog before meeting the certain doom that ensues.  Stay classy, my friends.

Thankspigging 2012

Geared up...

I love the Thanksgiving. What a great holiday! Let me help you walk through how incredible Thanksgiving is so you can appreciate this awesomest of awesome holidays. Too many people waste their time thinking about Black Friday, Christmas, getting the tree up and a myriad of other way too stressful moments of the holiday season to sit back, pound some adult beverages, stuff your face, oh the face stuffing! and watching football while succuluntly surplanted on the well used American behind (I love this country!).  Allow me to take you on the journey of Spiegelhoff ThanksPigging, the greatest of great American holidays. 

It all starts with pajamas.  Do you think the Pilgrims pressed their shirts before making nice with the neighbors and feasting on the local wildlife? No, they woke up in feety pajamas, started a fire and grabbed a bottle of home-made-presumably-corn-infused-whiskey (I love America!) and enjoyed a sip before watching their favorite team dominate (Go Pack Go!) or a team they despise (Lions?? - it's just a minor subliminal suggestion, a major one would've been the Bears!) lose.  It's Thankspigging people! 

This is where the outstanding grocery shopping comes in.  If you don't have an entire feast of appetizers for Thankspigging you have failed, my friend.  Thankspigging is about calorie intake.  You need 56 ounces of peanut M&M's for your guests.  Pie!  Lots of pie!  Candy, chips, dips, more candy and chocolate.  Have some chocolate!  Guests and family want to come to your house and eat until they burst.  Make them comfortable so they don't have to be embarrassed when it happens, as in, start your day by hosting in your sweats.  Believe it!  Which, brings me back to pajamas.  Don't waste your time dressing in your Sunday's best.  This is Thursday!  They made this magnificent holiday on a Thursday so you can save that pressed shirt for Sunday.  Pilgrims - we'll always be indebted to our forefathers.

So we start with a handful of deliciousness; taco dip, nothing says I'm thankful like taco dip, followed by an alarming amount of Wisconsin cheese even by dairyland standards, your typical chips and chili cheese dip, some shrimp (we can still pull this off in Wisco right?), and finally some deftly deviled eggs.  Oh, my lord!  Can I get an amen!?! 

Thankspigging is in full motion. The sweet potatoes have been sweetened, the potatoes have been sufficiently smashed and the gravy was proficiently doused with a brimming amount of culinary homage to Mr. Gobbler.  At this point the Lions are losing by 17, the turkey's bouquet of odoriferous seasonings has even the most arduous vegetarian begging for a nibble of nefarious nectar.  It's time to take your Wisconsin or Packer's, as the case may be, apron off and begin the delectable Thankspigging binge. Oh, how I do love America.

Prom for Dudes - Part I

Shedding a Packer tear...

Stumbled upon the greatest moment in Wisconsin Man-hood; Prom for Dudes.  I might be a little older than your typical prom goer, but trust me I had more than enough enthusiasm to best the most copious hormonal junior in High School.  I fell backasswards into a man's dream; I discovered the quarter life man's prom.  It all started with a coworker that held the holy grail of Wisconsin, Packer's season tickets.  Now, these weren't just any old tickets. These were tickets passed down through generations until they fell into that lovely, soon to retire lady that sits behind me at work.  These were 50 yard line seats in row 45. I had one day to purchase these sweet sweet sirens of the north.  I didn't even have to work some crappy $4.50 an hour job over the summer to come up with the scratch.  Being old has a few advantages. 

The plan was set.  I invited my wife, a fail safe, to get away with nearly anything yet still behave myself well enough to stay out of the clink for the evening.  Curiously, the Packers have a policy that if you are intoxicated you will be asked to leave the game "if your intoxication results in irresponsible behavior."  Oh, Wisconsin, you're so true to your German roots.  To seal the deal we went with some college friends to ensure an awe-inspiring good time.  And there is one thing about old skool friends that now have kids too - you don't waste opportunities like Prom for Dudes.  They took the initiative to rent a limo.  Now, that's some terrifyingly formidable friends.  We're not talking about some pansy limo, AKA a van with some loser driver, we're talking a stretch 13 passenger Chrysler 300 pimp-mobile with a driver named Big Poppa.  Kablamo!

It was daylight savings the Saturday before, which meant I would lose an extra hour of sleep because a man can't sleep when the next day is Prom for Dudes.  We went out on Saturday night for a steak dinner to get the proper base. I awoke at 2, 3, 4, and finally just threw in the towel at 5 and got up. (You know a typical day at the Spiegelhoff household). The limo arrived a little before 7am.  Me, already dressed in head to toe green. Was it too early for face paint?  Wife, shaking head in disapproval.  Me, Prom for Dudes!!  We took great pains to pack the limo's trunk, front seat and 4 of the unnecessary 13 seats with coolers, bags, grills, chairs, two tailgating tables (believe it) and 4 pounds of bacon-cheddar-jalapeno-brats.  Did I mention the limo driver was in a tux?  He knew it was Prom for Dudes.  Seriously, I can't even make this stuff up!  Simply put this was going to be an epic adventure. We hit the road by 7 and opened the first bottle of champagne for breakfast.  See, there was something for the wives.  Wasn't this just like the honeymoon? Limo, champagne...!?!  Oh, Prom for Dudes, how I love the way you treat a man.

Flyover for National Anthem...pretty sweet

The champagne was quickly washed down with delicious green and gold jello shots.  Say it with me, Go-Pack-Go! I wonder if one could get a job being a Prom for Dudes planner.  Hmmm, whole new career on the horizon?  The limo ride quickly got us to Lambeau Field (say with a really deep voice and all kinds of dramatics).  It was a crisp radiant morning; a perfect autumn day for football.  The kind of day where you grab a Sprecher out of the cooler by 10 and say, "Man, this is an exceptional day to be a, DUDE!"  We got the grill started, threw the kraut on and started the baggo tourney.  We might have been making a little bit of a scene, taking up 2 tailgating spots with the limo and all but let's face it, this was Prom for Dudes! 

After pounding three courses of meat, cheese and a delicious assortment of Wisconsin's finest adult beverages we made our way through the turnstiles.  I decided, with so many layers on, but no coat, (I'm a man baby!) I would smuggle in a handful of jello shots.  I totally underestimated security upon walking in, which turned out to be legitimate 5-0.  Captain crime fighter grabbed a hold of my pouch, which was laced with gloves hoping to cover up the offending contraband, but alas this donut commander had me dead to rights.  The fuzz asks, "what's that?"  Me, "(sheepishly and my best confused look) uhhhh, jello shots (incredulously???)" Po-Po, "ah, forget it, just go."  Me, "ahahahahahahaha....Prom for DUDES!!!!" The legend continues! 

I'll leave Part II for tomorrow...

Gavin's Birthday

Belated, certainly, but better late than never.  Tonight pumpkin carvin'.  Stay tuned...

We haven't had too many opportunities to open our doors to a myriad of rambunctious kids to run loose on our homestead gorging on sugar provided by yours truly while trying to maintain some sort of control so at the very least death doesn't ensue to one of our guests.  In short hosting a birthday party for a two year old is similar to owning a pool and watching people that have a solid handle on the doggy paddle do back flips off your diving board.  (This blog, regardless of similarities has no reference to real or fictional people).  Within 20 minutes of opening the door the place was filled with joyful noise, toys littering the room and candy wrappers strewn about the place like a minor nuclear weapon had exploded in our home.  All in the name of turning 2!

Gavin woke up at dawn like it was Christmas morning. The boy knew it was his day and he wasn't going to waste a second.  He began the morning, like usual on Saturdays, kicking dad in the face because he was sleeping in my bed instead of his own.  After making sure I couldn't sleep past 5:30 am he decided on a breakfast of waffles with a side of candle.  The kid had to practice making wishes and blowing out candles so he was prepped for his big afternoon.  Coincidentally I went back and checked the tape of Q and he spent his morning blowing out a giant candle on his pancakes over and over.

Gavin got geared up for the Wisco game and then happily watched as the Badgers dismantled the hapless Boilmakers into submission before noon.  The first birthday present! He hit the sack to get some pre-party shut-eye because he knew the raging was going to explode around 3 and wanted to look his rested best.  When the first guest arrived, Etta, he knew it was go time.  She, sporting her pretties, pony tails for girls around 2, and a stunning outfit of leggings, tutu and pink blouse, he in a Badger red sweatshirt and jeans .  There was definitely a moment there.  Too soon?  I mean the kid is two, he has to start some time. The grandparents, aunts, uncles, great aunts, great grandparents, more hotties and bros filed in picking up their birthday favors of dino-rings, tattoos, candy, balloons and kazoos.

We allowed the initial sugar high to settle in and opened up the house to playing.  After the first buzz started wearing down we moved into a competitive game of pin the cranium on the fossilized T-Rex.  We went with the dino theme because Gavin loves dinos and received lots to play with

We then decided it was time for sugar buzz number and two and unleashed the dino-cake.  We somehow managed to cram all two candles on the surface of the brontosaurus with only a minor objection from the herbivore.  Gavin huffed and puffed but couldn't blow that candle out.  We took a minor time out, moved the cake closer to Gavin and success!  We had a newly minted two year old and a wish was granted. 

We haven't had a birthday so close to family before so there was an influx of toys.  To provide the proper visual I'm going to have to ask you to use your imagination. Close your eyes, go back to 2nd or 3rd grade, remember writing that letter to Santa and now instead of childhood disappointment act like you received twice of everything you asked for.  All your friends were jealous - that was like Sunday morning, the day after.  Our kids played and played all rainy day with the new gifts they scored from all their friends and family.  Thanks to everyone for making Gavin's second birthday such a success!

Synergetic blogger?

My wife thinks she found the mom version of my blog.  You can find it here: http://www.momaical.com/.  The writer does have some pretty sweet wit.  She's a left coaster, though by transplant, so she uses a little more potty mouth than I but if you can roll with the PG-13 market it's worth a look.  I have only read a few posts but there is a pretty stinking hilarious bout with her local squirrel population complete with a shot of the momaical herself sporting a bottle of Jack (all bubbles - get it?) and a gun trying to get even.  And they say Cali is all liberal.  Little do they know about suburban mom's going all gangsta on the pesky wildlife.  Hit up the billionaire post as well.  If you have an email address you'll find it's worth the read.  I'll add her to the list of bloggers to your left.  Happy Friday! 

A Word to the MAN...

When you wake up on a crisp Tuesday morning before the sun rises as the Earth continues its awful rotation to darker and darker pastures you don't often ponder, today is the day I get an opportunity to stick it to the Man.  Today, on Stick it to the Man Tuesday, also Taco Tuesday down at the In the Drink a close and favorite watering hole, my wonderful, fantastic, super-duper awesome wife decided we would make it Super Spiegelhoff winning Tuesday. No, no, we don't care about Romney and his childhood with seven mom's growing up in Mexico where polygamy was legal. I'm talking about an old fashioned show down with the Tax Man.  You know this brings me back a little.  When I was seven and motoring through the second grade our teacher asked us what we wanted to be when we grew up.  I said I wanted to be awesome.  A dreamer, I know.  But the dork in the corner, Myron said, "When I grow up I want to be a tax assessor."  That was met with spitballs and interestingly 30 years later the tax man gets the same response. 

I note my wife was wonderful, fantastic, super-duper awesome because she received the letter saying, after we bought our a little northern cabin to escape the heat of the south to endure, excuse me, I mean enjoy a nice snowy freezing winter beginning in early October, said they (from this point on "they" known as the MAN) were raising our property taxes.  I remember coming home that day and remarking to my model-hot wife how that made perfect sense.  You know with all the home buying going on and the robust economy it was clearly logical that our house was going up in value 120 days after we purchased it.  It was slightly shocking, mostly since our house in Florida is worth about 70% less than the day we bought it, that in 120 days it had gone up in value $100,000.  Who could argue with results though!  I told the wife to not worry about a thing.  I got a realtor on speed dial and we're absolutely fantastic at moving and with all that extra cash in our pocket we could probably foreclose on our house in Tampa and buy it back within the same week in cold hard cash baby!!  Sometimes good fortune just falls right in your lap.

However, after coming down from that short but enjoyable psychotic escapade she explained to me how we either bought the nicest house in all of Lake Geneva or some drunk accountant accidentally added three zeros to our tax assessment.  You don't think they simply want more tax revenue for the coffers do you?  She decided she wanted to fight.  That's my girl! So, she diligently prepared for a showdown with the MAN and town board.  She researched comparable properties, figured cost per square foot, got a massage, formulated and perfected her prose for the big stage and with that we were off for our high 2pm show down.  C'mon it was close to noon.

We arrived a prompt ten minutes early but in typical government fashion, with no one else in the room, they waited until precisely the clock struck 2:02 to ask if we were indeed the "objectors."  Sir, I object! Too early? Right, right, we have to be sworn in.  This was gonna be fun! They explained the rules of engagement, swore us in, told us we were on candid camera, just kidding, told us they were taping this and off we ran.  Holy cow what an education!  I am nearly certain I could make a small fortune explaining to people how best to beat the tax man.  Please deposit $5 via paypal to continue reading the rest of this blog.  Seriously, did you deposit the money?  Okay, but I'm totally trusting you.  The honor system - still works!

It goes like this.  We get to go first, since we're the objectors.  We make our argument, present our evidence (it turns out you don't get your evidence back so do yourself a favor and make copies), then the board asks you questions, then the tax MAN gets his turn, presents his evidence (totally unprepared for my industriously zealous wife), woefully said he was finished and BAM! decision time.  There was much discussion. The board was unashamedly flirting with my wife at this point when yes, this actually happened, the tax MAN explained they couldn't just choose a more reasonable figure for our house.  They had to either say we were right and give us the named price we stated during our opening arguments or say we were wrong and, shiver, the tax MAN was right.  Holy @&#%!!  We missed that part of the instructions, because we clearly used the same method as the tax MAN to come up with our estimate - we arbitrarily made it up with what we deemed fair.  But, on Stick it to the Man Tuesday the tax God's were shining on my majestic wife. And it was shining bright, my friends. Kablamo! Board loves my wife. Tax MAN goes down swinging in a 10 round TKO. Shazam! We're rich, or rather we officially pay less in taxes.  And that is how you stick it to the MAN my friends.  And since this blog had nothing to do with my kids, here is a picture of them wearing their underwear on their heads. Kablamo!

Parent Rap

I haven't done too many of these posts but I received a link to this sweet rap made by parents that are simply keeping it real.  Bah-lieve it.

You have to check it - especially if you are a parent.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N_NspDWssIY

If you have kids, especially little ones you'll feel every beat. Word.

Hulk Smash!

Before I begin about the Hulkamania happening at Casa de Spiegelhoff I thought I would let you know I'm on the twitter.  I haven't figured out the fascination with Facebook yet and I'm secretly holding out hope that after 6 billion users, people will finally realize it's not that cool. (If everyone else is doing it, it's not cool anymore.  Don't you remember high school!?)  The Twitter, though, now that's some sweet entertainment in 140 character or less.  Become a tweep and I'll tweet out the blogs.  Those easily offended should probably stay off the twitter.  Those who enjoy sarcasm hit me up on the twitter and be instantly aware of the blog - even before Google.

What are YOU lookin' at?!

On Friday we had a bonfire for the kiddos and some friends, which meant Care was drinking beers and roasting s'mores half the night while I was trying to get the kids to bed well after their bed time. It's a thankless job, I know.  Eventually they fell a sleep only to wake up the next morning to get invited to two more bonfires and one pig roast.  Sheesh! The pig roast had a bounce house which allowed our bouncing boys to go bonkers for hours, which coincidentally enough, is also the secret to a good night's sleep.  I know what you're thinking and I'm already one step ahead of you.  It turns out those things are a little pricey to own.  I was told $2,500.  It sort of seems like a lot.  Then you think, hmmmm, I haven't slept through the night all but 20 times in the last 4 years so all of a sudden $2,500 seems like the deal of the century.  Maybe Santa will cram a bounce house through the chimney.  C'mon Santa I've been a good boy this year I promise!

After devouring the pig and I mean some serious two-fisting hog gobbling there was a pinata.  You have no idea how a few beers, a baseball bat and some candy wrapped up in some paper mache can set a crowd off.  There was near rioting to take some Babe Ruth swings at this thing.  You know the Sultan of Swat!? It was an absolute fantastic way to blow twelve bucks.  They make those pinatas stronger than you think.  NAFTA, apparently good for something.  After numerous turns and some pretty sweet compliments for the hulking size (totally foreshadowing here readers) of Q such as, "That kid is only 3? What are you feeding that beast?!" From a dad's perspective those comments never get old so keep em' coming. In the end we punched the pinata to death.  The bat broke before the pinata did (that's the trade agreement with China...)We all have to go in our own way.  Finally the candy came raining down so the kiddos could get one last sugar high before heading out for the night.

Now that brings us to Sunday.  I have to say I'm a little exhausted writing about the weekend so you can imagine what it's like to eat all this food, socialize with all these people, drink their beer and try to remain skinny.  That's why we call it Wisconsin-skinny folks.  We have to skew the definition a little bit.  Sweatshirt weather is here to hide your six pack, nope not that one- now you've got it, that one so you have what? nine months of winter to work off that extra bonfire 20 pounds.  Exactly.  So, Sunday we head out to Applefest.  We drive out to the orchard where they provide free (capitalism taking a backseat for family fun? whoa!) radio flyer wagons - so awesome! and you can pick your own apples and pumpkins.  They even had hayrides, a live band, cider, donuts, bounce houses, crafts and even the Packers accommodated by playing the late game.  I love it when the NFL cooperates. (Let's not discuss last Monday and the Seattle game when the NFL decidedly did not want to cooperate).  So we bought more food and are officially ready for Halloween.

Once we returned home I suited up for the game and Care headed out with the boys to try on costumes.  Q eventually settled on, as he states it, Hulk Smash.  He makes, and I'll be honest here, a pretty terrifying awesome face, flexes muscles and begins smashing things.  Could a dad be any prouder?  He came home, put it on and essentially has been wearing it ever since, mask and all.  He puts it on when he crawls out of bed before school and he puts it on when he comes home from school.  He's even putting it on after bath time for the few minutes before bed time.  It's pretty sweet.  Gavin is going with the cheeseburger theme.  He's not as excited to be sporting lettuce and tomato but he looks pretty sweet too.  The bun adds 10 pounds so cut the kid some slack if you see him trick o' treating.

This blog is too long or I would tell you about how we went to back to back Brewer games on Monday and Tuesday.  I can't even make this stuff up.  Stay tuned...

Closing Time

Had a heavy dose of winter shock yesterday after work.  We had a nice day in the upper 70s with abundant sunshine.  On the way home from work I drove by the lake to see boaters enjoying the first sun filled days of fall.  Yes, it's autumn, officially (9/22).  Before bonfire season starts in earnest we had to go through the logical step of closing the pool. In my ever flowing optimistic state I some how convinced myself there would be plenty of swimming opportunities well into October.  Mother nature vehemently disagreed with me slapping us with mid-30s over the weekend.  After receiving the utility bills for heating the pool it was decided it's closing time.  Nothing like a financial jolt to get rid of that optimism and send you back into that blissful pessimistic state we all love.  When I drove up to our vacation home in the north and saw the dark green cover firmly attached, covering the pool it was like seeing a blizzard for the first time.  There is shock, followed by awe, followed by depression when you realize you have to start shoveling.  I changed into shorts, sat in a recliner conveniently placed in the middle of the driveway (a whole other posting) and enjoyed a comfortable evening cocktail staring in disbelief at where my gorgeous turquoise water once laid only hours before. 

As one activity comes to a close others will surely take their place and fall weddings is one.  The family was fortunate to be close enough to attend a cousin's wedding in Iowa this past weekend so we packed up the family wagon, grabbed the pooch and headed west (over the river {literally} and through the woods to Grandma's house we went).  We decided on a midnight road trip and drove through the night.  Eventually the boys went to sleep and even the Stinks rested his furry little head and got some shut eye.  Meanwhile Carrie and I were discussing Romney's three wives and driving through a hail storm.  We had no damage but even if there was I know a great insurance guy.  After roughly four hours we solved the world's financial crisis, won a heated game of "I spy" and arrived at Grandma's house.

We attended the wedding Saturday afternoon while the dismal Hawkeyes blew a game on the gridiron and the keep it close with poor teams Badgers narrowly pulled out a win against UTEP, yes that football powerhouse UTEP.  We had a delicious lunch at the Getaway Bar and Grill, which was one ginormous basket of everything fried; mini-tacos, cheese curds, jalapeno poppers, mushrooms and mozzarella sticks to name a few and picked up the kids for the reception, which was at the same location as our very own wedding reception.  We sang, we danced, we ate cake and my poor child was body slammed to the dance floor by some mean, mean girls.  See video. 

Here my kid is doing his best impression of front man Agnes Young of AC/DC rocking out and making the rounds on the dance floor when out of nowhere a pack of girls conspired to use the momentum of both of them to take out my unsuspecting, song loving, wedding rocking, dancing with the stars champion, which plastered him to the parquet floor.  After his up close and personal view of the floor Gavin officially retired for the evening after sobbing uncontrollably for ten minutes he decided to call it an evening and promptly fell asleep.  It was closing time.

Where have I been???

Gavin's 1st carnie ride

Apparently one of the pros/cons of moving to Wisco is you have too much to do with so many people you know around that increases your body mass and decreases your blogging time.  This is probably the longest I've gone without writing a blog.  If it's any consolation I have written several in my head and even typed out a few but haven't had the time to publish them.  I debated just calling it quits, but it's been fun and with winter looming in the distance I thought I would have more free time and would hopefully get back to writing a handful a month. 

Just to give you a run down of the last few weekends, we had Venetian Festival, which is a Wednesday thru Sunday Lake Geneva event with live music, carnival rides, games and a beer tent put on by the Jaycee's, of which I'm a member.  That translated means I was a bartender (serving/drinking beer for charity - what beats that!?!?) all week.  We even squeaked in a wedding on Friday that weekend 2 hours out of town.  So I was working all day and playing all night.  On Sunday the event culminated with a 50th anniversary of the festival fireworks display followed immediately after by a torrential down pour sending everyone mad scrambling for their cars parked 10 blocks away.  We got soaked but the beer was free all week.  And it wasn't Keystone.  We had 12 beers on tap including Spotted Cow, Totally Naked (ain't Wisco grand!?), Sprecher's and Lake Geneva's very own Wake IPA to name a few.

The next weekend was a fintanstic weekend with Jimmy Buffett making an appearance at Alpine Valley, the single greatest venue to see a Buffett show in all the world.  I dare you to prove otherwise.  There is no charge for parking and the lots open at 2pm for an 8 pm concert.  That equates into far too old people putting together incredibly creative displays of margarita-prirate-shark-parrot themed attire.  We saw a dude walking around in a grass skirt.  No, that was all he had on.  A grass skirt.  They don't make them go all 360 for dudes so you know, well, let your imagination work its magic.  There were squirt guns loaded with not water.  No, no, no, this is Jimmy.  They were loaded with Tequila.  Get it?  You get shot with a shot of tequila.  I, decked out in my grass skirt, coconut bra, parrot hat and leis helped pave the way for my in-laws to spend their 40th wedding anniversary with Jimmy.  Ah, true love.  If you haven't been, by all means get there.  Jimmy's not getting any younger.

The weekend after that was Labor day and the county fair was going on.  Here school doesn't start until after labor day because the local businesses need the high school/college kids in the workforce through the weekend. So the boys had a couple of days at the fair riding the rides, checking out the farm animals and stuffing their faces with high caloric deliciousness like deep fried chocolate covered bacon.  Seriously, it's Wisconsin-skinny around these parts.  We were fortunate enough to attend the Florida State Fair this year too.  Strangely, the food was the same. We have bigger cows and a lot more cheese but they were nearly identical.  It was like finding out the Easter Bunny isn't real.  All fair food can't be the same can it? 

I'll try to do better with the blog writing.  Q and I had a little man weekend this past weekend as Care was whooping it up at a bachelorette party.  All I heard was her going on an on about some dude named Magic Mike. I almost blurted out who the H is Magic Mike but then I realized some things are better left unsaid.  I'll get another blog out this week but I do have a Brewer game tonight, the Packers on Thursday night and the Badger game on Saturday.  Living here definitely has some perks.

It's a man weekend

Buds

We had ourselves a little man weekend while the wife was away having another WWW weekend. The WWW stands for Weekend Without and I'll let your third grade imagination run wild with the last W but in essence it's an estrogen party. Us boys, we partied it up while the wife was away. Finally a weekend with no curfew, no one cutting you off too soon and no one cooking you a hot meal, tucking you into bed, or getting up in the middle of the night with your screaming child. Who needs that?! It was time to run around in your drawers, belch as much as you want and let the occasional flatulence loose without a hint of embarrassment. We were celebrating manhood.

Fashionistas

It started off with the boys getting dressed by themselves. There was no one here to tell them they needed to match or to pick clothes out for them. Whatever they wanted to wear was fine with me. Q chose a nice black ensemble. The highlight? An extra large Jack Daniels T-shirt. Oh, to be three again! Gavin, also went with the extra large T-shirt - these boys are a growing! but decided a giant pig was more his style, a pig playing golf. They're getting so mature. It almost brings a tear to your eye.

We stayed up too late, but mostly because it needs to be dark out to blow stuff up. Blowing stuff up during the day can be fun but to get that full explosive effect you really need the cover of darkness or at least dusk so we stayed up a little past our bed time. It started with sparklers but we quickly moved into tanks, bottle rockets and small mortars. Quinny wore his spiderman PJs in case things got out of control and we needed to be rescued. Plus his spidysense would be able to sense danger a wee bit ahead of time to thwart any potential forest fires. For full disclosure purposes there was a minor grass fire but we had plenty of water and it was quickly extinguished. What? We barely have a lawn anyway with the total lack of rain and the 100+ temps here in Tempe, Arizona.

Sunday morning it was raining. God knows we needed the rain, but when you start your day at 5:30 you plan, baby and Daddy didn't plan for it to rain so he was woefully unprepared to have the boys inside all morning. We were going to do a little park action, followed by walk down to the lake and then a little fishing. What we ended up with was candy for breakfast, a spitting contest that ended prematurely when Gavin spit his bah (pacifier) into the toilet (spittoon) and retrieved with lightning quickness only to reapply to his face. Please, everyone, a collective eeeeewwwwwe. Thank-you. That was followed by a trip to the mouthwash station and on to the dump for the bah to find its final resting place. RIP, bah.

The beginnings of a pyromaniac?

I then used reverse psychology to trick them into cleaning. Ya, cleaning's fun. Here you run the swiffer. You run the vacuum and daddy will supervise drinking his coffee. We actually stripped 3 beds, did 3 loads of laundry, vacuumed 4 rooms, two rugs and poorly swiffered the wood floors. C'mon Gavin, pull your weight! We found 4 bahs, buried one so we're plus three!

We followed that relatively successful activity up with something tamer - art projects. I know, I know many of you didn't think I had it in me but I can plan a decent art project as well as the next dude home alone with two kids under age 3 with little to no art training that scored a solid C, which is totally average, people, in school. We made rocket ships. That's right, rocket ships. We cut, pasted, painted and flew our sweet, sweet rocket ships. One might say they were out of this world. Believe it.

The basement...AWESOME!

This brought us up to about 9:30 am. I know, it doesn't seem possible, but trust me it is. Gavin has a solid attention span of roughly four minutes, unless he's breaking something, which is approximately 68% of the time, in which case that can fluctuate from 30 seconds to 10 minutes depending on how flexible the item he's bending into oblivion. Books have an especially short lifespan. Quinny is around 3 1/2 so his attention span is a solid 7 minutes making him much easier to entertain.

We then, thankfully, rediscovered the basement. Oh, Mr. Unfinished Basement and your endless possibilities. I blew up an old swimming pool. The one we have now is, I'll totally ballpark it, 672 times larger and doesn't take 2 days to blow up with 3 minor blackouts.  I was only unconscious for a couple of minutes. Right, 9:32 am, and we're in the basement. The pool, no not that one, the tiny one, try and stay with me, doubles as a bouncehouse. It's not super safe but we have excellent liability insurnace. It's one of the perks of having a mid-life career change. So we bounced in our psuedo-bounce-house for 6 minutes, built a tower out of legos, destroyed said tower, I'm racking my brain for what activity can we possibly do next when suddenly like Moses receiving the 10 commandments from Mount Sinai the clouds parted, the sun peaked through and can I get an AMEN!? we could go oustside again! Hallejulia! Finally, we can just chuck some life jackets on these kids, grab a brewski and float the day away. Man-weekend. It really was that awesome. I'm not sure if you've seen the Hangover but if you have I have a string of pictures just like that of the weekend and they are hilarious. If you haven't seen it, you probably shouldn't. It's a little too shocking for most of you. Don't even google it. Seriously, don't.

PS  No one pooped in the tub (Including this guy)

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