My 1337th attempt..

I’ve probably sat down 1336 times attempting to write out my thoughts or at least to think about writing them down, anyways, I thought I’d be leet and hit it on the 1337th try.

You know, life can be such a time suck even if you’re having good times. There simply isn’t enough time in the day to keep up with the Joneses; four children including my newborn, a full time job, my wife’s new website and business venture, sleep and or the lack there of and my favorite pastime: eating, for which I probably spend more time doing than I do sleeping. *shrugs* A man’s gotta have his hobbies. What? I have other ones too; I’ll save you the list. So, what’s so dire that I have to put fingers to keyboard amidst the turmoil that is my life, well, nothing, something, everything, life in general . . . do I ever really have a point? meh, sometimes.

Like this year I’ve been trying to prioritize more, I do this well in my business life and in helping my wife in her new business venture, but in my personal life I would say I am somewhat lacking. Exhibit A, things left undone: I still need to paint the downstairs bathroom (it still looks like it’s snowing in there from when we fixed the ceiling leak), put together my children’s mini trampoline, fix a cabinet door (sounds like I’m handy there, not really, I mostly hire people, but I still try to sweat out the small stuff), taxes need to be done (I’m a file at strictly the last minute kind of guy. Unless the other inevitable happens, then I’m off the hook and it’s my wife’s job). Exhibit B, oh, I have more exhibits than the Smithsonian. Let’s move on.

I know, I resolved to write more and so far I have not, nonetheless, for good reason, or at the very least with great excuses. So much is rolling down the mountain of my everyday I’m sure I could have filled out a new blog to overflowing every day of this year and had enough sparse words for a book or two. Ferris Bueller wasn’t kidding when he said life moves pretty fast. The best event thus far in the sparkle, oomph and verve of my being is the arrival of my lil’ princess, and boy is she a princess.

Nevertheless, my little bug can be an extremely calm baby: the first few days of her life she scarcely made a peep, not even during the first 24 hours of her being when I, in all seriousness, changed over 40 diapers. My little poop machine put out more waste than Fukushima sorry a Fukushima reference had to be done. Still much preferred to the 4-5 day stints she’d later be constipated. Seriously, I never understood how parents could get so excited about a simple baby bowel movement until the first time that happened: I could have bronzed the wee occasion. And then she hit four weeks and got sick and with her new found illness found her, for the most part, unused tonsils. To date her wails are much more emphatic.

Although, don’t let the occasional demon-like possessions when she spontaneously combusts at the slightest bit of discomfort fool you, she is absolutely my little angel. To quote a cheesy song and several really bad poets, “I love her more than words could e’er say”, ok, I more paraphrased, whatever. Every day when I come home her eyes, in effect, twinkle when she hears my voice and every time I put my recently de-grubbified hands around that precious little bundle of joy, she smiles and coos to no end for her daddy. Damn, three months old and she already has me so wrapped around her little finger she could ask for the cat’s head on a plate and I doubt I could resist. Well, I’d at least pause first; I do love my bobcat.

Then there’s Davin, another bundle of joy working his way through the murky waters of toddlerhood. That kid is too smart and too good looking for his own good. And let’s not forget his two big brothers that are just exiting toddlerhood and becoming little men.

Having four kids is a challenge at times, with just those four little monkeys my attention is split four ways, not impossible, yet at times daunting. And so to help ensure each of my loves has their time to shine we have instituted special days for each of them, and then family days for all of them. All in all, my bevy of boisterous beauties are a blessing, even when we’re out-numbered two to one. Whose idea was it to have four children anyways!?! Oh, well yah, never mind. And speaking of beauty, my wife and I are still sickeningly in love. Amazing, huh. The waves of affection we display in, ohmygoodness, public still turns heads and make other people blush. We’ve never been arrested or anything, so I suppose were somewhat tame, nevertheless in love. In love, happy, driving each other to the brink of insanity: yep, the perfect marriage.

That brings family life up to date. And onto other noteworthy events: my wife’s new business venture, Shae Cakes, seems to be doing really well, mostly due to her sick skills in the kitchen. I do declare, that woman was born to create edible art. You make think I distort the truth just a tad, and it’s a fair allegation. *cries* how could you accuse me of such a thing! Regardless, her stuff speaks for itself.

Of course being a natural, Aly believes anyone could do what she does. Especially with me since I read A LOT and am great at figuring out how things works, still for my lovely wife, that translates as, “Great. Go do it.” And yet, while for the most part, I can figure out how almost anything is done and even explain the process step by step: I can’t turn a lump of sugarpaste into snoopy . . . that’s her talent.

Still there are certain aspects that I can assist in, undoubtedly, some skills I apply are so secretive I cannot discuss them here, as to not give away any trade secrets, and others not so much. Of late, I have been working with an airbrushing machine. I bought a professional grade (much more than I needed) food color compressor kit full with the, could be, futuristic “airbrushing” guns. I was, let’s just say it, entirely giddy to use my toy of color making goodness.

On the other hand, maybe I should have done it outside and wore a mask. *sigh* I spent two hours cleaning up the red food coloring film off of the tile, chairs, banquette, table, etc. Honestly, I wasn’t even aware there was anything to clean up until I saw the bottom of my feet were red. No permanent damage done, everything was spiffy clean after several days of finding new traces of red food dye, like at the base of the toilet in the downstairs bathroom, I’m still not sure how that was even possible. Despite all that, my biggest surprise came the next morning when I thought I had a wicked nosebleed on both sides. Yah, I was freaking out a bit, until I realize I had red food dye up my nose. Only God knows how much of the stuff I ingested but it can’t be any worse than eating a Red Velvet cancer cake. Seriously, they put a half a cup of red food dye in those things. How is that even remotely good for you or so much as add to the taste of those barely chocolate, too sweet, nastily frosted pieces of trendiness. Side note, I am trying to convince my wife to come out with a line of anti Red Velvet cakes: Black velvet, reverse velvet, oh the goodness.

Back to the stuff about life in general, sleep has been much better for me in the past month, whereas my wife often tries to zombie it out; seriously, I have to stay up sometimes so I can do Shaelee’s 2am feeding just so my wife will sleep. Sneaky monkey, she never wakes me up. I’m sure there are worse things to complain about one’s wife. Albeit, this may be more selfish than first look: zombie wife = no sex and a very cranky “sneaky monkey”. I mean, come on, it’s not an attack on her character: who could be that sleep deprived and not lose the horny compulsions and lighthearted manner, other than me. The first never goes away and the second, well it’s just inbred, as well as the compulsion not to sleep. Perforce that compulsion never hits in the afternoon when the couch, first aid cot, my car, floor and or any surface calls my name and tries to lure me away to Never Never Land. I could have slept 16 hours last night and noon-2pm I’d still be good for a nap.

So, what’s the verdict after my guilty absence and then random ramblings . . . H-e-double hockey sticks if I know, but the fridge calls and I think bed would be a better idea, so I’m off to catch several Z’s before hopefully my wifey poo wakes me for shaebug’s next feeding three hours before I need to be up for work. It may be a dirty job, but I’ve got a good life, would have been better if I won the 312 Mega Million jackpot instead of the guys in New York, but still good.

That is all.

Fall Hubbub

October is an extremely busy month around my household: filled with anniversaries, birthdays, holidays and festivities galore. Not to mention, plague pestilence and disease (but another time for that). Nevertheless, I love the fall season. My wife and I were almost married on Halloween; we were also almost married on New Year’s Eve as well. I guess we just have a thing for the holidays. However we decided not to wait that long and opted for the haunted wedding celebration, yet the venue was double booked, so we then opted for the weekend before. We weren’t especially crushed, a day is a day and I simply wanted to marry my wonderful wife. And now we’ve been married for, wait for it, two whole years. Yep, glory in the vast experience and wisdom that my many, many, many years of marital bliss can provide. Ummm yah, maybe just two manys.

Anyways, everything you’ve heard is true, sadly enough (sad for all you drama queens) we are still happily married. I know, many of you out there aren’t as experienced with this whole marriage thing, so let me impart one tidbit of my, again, vast knowledge and experience on the subject (I mean two years, that’s like forever right?), yah, so here it is: happiness ≠ perfection. Do you think my wife and I never get down and dirty (you assume I am going to say something about sex, huh) with the arguments and disagreements or that we never annoy each other? Seriously!?! You are a bit gullible. Nope, my wife and I are often down and dirty (ok gutter peeps, mind up here). Love means work. Don’t misunderstand; I don’t work to love my wife. That’s the easy part, but with all life’s ups and downs things get in the way and sometimes you have to wipe the crap away. You’ll find in the long run it’s much easier than dealing with the skid marks. Ewwww, I guess I did say down and dirty.

That being said, my wife and I thoroughly enjoyed our second wedding anniversary. I took her to Disneyland, shopping, a few fabulous restaurants and above all, gave her a peaceful day away with just the two of us. The latter was the best part. It’s been way too long since we’ve had some just the two of us time. So, what’s the point of this diatribe on my busy month, martial joys and family life? Geez, were you the kid in school that cheated on your pop quiz sneaking answers from the brainiac next to you? For shame, even if you’re now the CEO of some corporation getting another bailout from the government while flying your private jet down for an afternoon latte in Italia: don’t you feel bad about that educational infraction. Prolly not, but that still doesn’t mean I have to spell it out for you. Just kidding, I have no point.

Sometimes I just like to ramble and silly you fell for it like my gullible lil’ four year old when I tell him his name is really Bob.

That is all.

Shae Cakes

Some would call it shameful after being silent for about 8 months (a shame in and of itself) that I would break said silence with a shameless plug, and there are many who (whom for you grammar nazis crazed lunatics) would have no shame in telling you I have no shame, what a shame they’d be so ruthless and blunt, yet the shameful truth (shame for which I have none) is, well, you read inside the parenthesis, so onto the matter at hand. I’m having a baby! in possibly two months or less. Wha!?! I told you it was a shame being silent so long, but as you could imagine, life has been as hectic as if I were golfing in a tsunami . . . more so, since I don’t know how to golf.

Yes, my little gorgeous bundle of goo will be, allegedly, born January 1st, 2011. Omygoodness, to bring a child into these unstable times, we must be crazy, especially a fourth child. An era when “the most stable” Hollywood marriages are falling apart and people are losing jobs right and left. What must we be thinking? Haha, it gets worse (or better depending on your perspective, I opt for better). No doubt, in these rocky times my wife is my rock and I cannot think of anything better than having a little mini her running around and being awesome. Yes folks, my wife is awesome (truth) and an extremely talented lady (more truth). And you know, she is always astounding me, especially with her innate ability to create.

I remember the first time my wife made a cake, I think she had to tie me down bondage tape and all to get me to try a piece. Not because I didn’t trust her baking skills, she’s a ninja in the kitchen. However, in the age old war between cake vs. pie, it was never even a contest with me. I have always loved pie and detested cake. Regardless with that first much protested bite, my wife made a believer out of me. Certainly not to give up on my beloved pie, nevertheless to possibly look at laying down the fork and make piece with my old nemesis: cake. Could it be, is it possible that cake can taste, not just edible (once that didn’t even seem feasible), but amazing!?! She blew my mind away and all preconceived notions of dry ickiness with mountains of frosting piled on until it makes me want to @^#%! and swear off sugar altogether, for at least a minute or two.

As I chewed disquietly on my disillusionment, my whole world turned upside down, I mean… I was.. I was.. wr- wrong. Did I just say that? Wow, talk about rocking my universe. Of course, my wife has been known to do that often, I did mention bondage tape right?? Umm yah, prolly tmi. Anyways, incredible as it is, cake can be awesome. I know, right!?! So, my wife’s birthday was coming up and I decided to buy her a massive amount of baking stuff, even a kitchen aid. I know most people would say, “Wha!?! Kitchen appliances for a birthday!! Oh yah, it’s the dog house for you buddy.” Yep, you’d be wrong (see why it’s so amazing I was actually wrong, weird huh?). My wife did somersaults, backflips and other stuff. We are on our fourth child you know.

Not to mention, I did have Danielle at Crepes Bonaparte from The Great Food Truck Race on the Food Network cater her birthday party, yah, I can be awesome too.

Hence, she started baking and baking and baking, much to the delight of my co-workers, as can be seen below.

Then, after several sugar induced comas I nudged her a bit, like jiminy cricket, with a little voice in the back of her mind when she was sleeping, well, not really. However, she did tell me it was her dream to bake for a living, and I told her she should (see everyone should listen to me, I don’t know why they don’t). So bake she did, everyday a new creation, and such sumptuous delights they were, and then all of a sudden, a month before I planned to even make her a website and stuff, she started getting orders. Amazing, didn’t I tell you she’s amazing. And on this wise, she named her business after our sweet munchkin yet to be and Shae Cakes was born, a little premature, yet I think everything’s working out quite nicely.

Of course, some may think this is not a good thing. Starting a business in these uncertain times. I say “boo” to the naysayers (timely for the Halloween season, don’t you think). Nonetheless, my wife is working on another order as we speak, well, type, well, as you read. And I hope my little bundle of glorious goo is as timely. Though either way, whether premature or on time, I cannot wait to meet her. And in case you were wondering, my boys are as crazy, lovable, adorable and annoying as ever, but we’ll save that for another time, a much sooner time.

That is all.

3 days till 6 months past..

Three days, in just 72 hours my not so little monkey will be six months old. Is it possible that time has moved so quickly. What may seem like a lifetime for Davin, probably because it is a lifetime for him is but a moment to me. He’s gone through most baby milestones in a breezy “was that so hard” fashion and laughing all the way. And even though I know he’s just mimicking the sounds I make when he redoubles “i-la-loo” back to me after I’ve told him, “I love you,” it still sends my heart racing.

Davin’s quite the little charmer like baby crack. He’s still working on crawling but is most interested these days with his new Elmo walker and zooming across our wooden floors. He loves to roam around in it while eating his plastic cookie. Davin is really starting to figure out the goodness of toys, even if most of them get drowned in slobber. Gnawing on things is really his favorite past time, other than watching Baby Einstein’s and hanging out with his brothers. He’s always happiest when his two big brothers are in view.

Funny, there was a time in my life when I wouldn’t have understood the goodness in parenting, even married life. When I could barely utter the words… co- co- commit- you know that thing you do when you stay with someone or something long term. To say the least, I wouldn’t have recognized myself and not for the lack of hair, I still got it even if it’s hanging on for dear life. I’m sure there are the deluded few who always expected this kind of happiness for me and the rational yet wrong individuals who never saw it coming. *sticks out my tongue to the latter*

Yep, I’m all growed up and when you’re growns up, you’re growns up. For heaven’s sake, the peeps at the credit card companies seem to think so, giving me another credit card. Whatever, could they be thinking!?! Either way, I do have to be more responsible now, the whole family life thing, role modeling, parenting, being a good husband . . . less WoW, more family time. Is it worth it? Ask me again, when my little man Nate runs up to me and gives me a hug, cocking his head to one side, exclaiming he loves me; during my wife’s running jumps into my arms at the end of a long day; those times Dean makes me almost roll on the floor with his latest Deanisms; or when I’m simply sitting on the couch holding the monkey and he says, “i-la-loo.”

That is all.

Papa’s got a brand new bag..

So, several weeks ago I put out some feelers to see if I could extend my random musings into a paying gig. No, not with advertising here, though I suppose that’s a viable option. Nah, who wants to sell out this early in the game, well, unless they offered me oodles of money. Rather, I used my trusty Google capabilities and found several online and offline publications that were looking for writers. Funnily enough, to be a freelance writer for offline magazines you have to first have a portfolio of experience, sigh, how I hate catch-22′s. Still, the wonderful world wide web is not always so picky, so long story short I’ve heard back from two of them, one is still considering (whether my random ways fit their publication no doubt), the other picked me up and now, hmm, I have even less time in my day.

Isn’t life grand, you get what you want and sometimes have that “why did I want this” moment, especially if I’m picked up by several more sites. Nevertheless, I do enjoy writing and it IS truly something I want, so, woohoo! One step closer to possibly someday writing my own column and a bit of pay along the way never hurts. Life is grand.

Links to my first two articles:

♦ Does God tweet?, and to Digg it.
♦ Haiti: our neighbor in the midst of hardship

That is all.

The 10′s

Amazing, it’s a new year, a new decade.. and the more things change, the more they stay the same. In some ways that’s disappointing and in other ways it’s extremely comforting. Without a doubt, it’s easy to distinguish the two phenomenons and their correlating effects. A wonderful and beautiful family and home life, one would hope it never changes and all the drama that comes with its extensions, well, change would be welcome. And yet, both prospects seem equally daunting in their probabilities. Of course it’s unlikely my family will stay the same forever: Davin, Dean and Nate are growing up so fast.

Davin is already five months old and is forever developing at an immense rate. That little monkey is still one of the strongest babies I’ve ever seen: don’t let him get a handle on your chest hair (not an immediate problem for you ladies). He’s extremely observant, plus, he can always recognize and often empathizes with my emotions. And my other two boys are growing like weeds, everyday they look more and more like little men. Everyday I am increasingly more proud of how they conduct themselves (that sounds like I am giving a military report right there, nah, they are just such good boys, it does my heart proud). And my wife and I are thankfully growing closer and closer everyday even amidst all the adversity and crap life throws at you. So, no, I cannot imagine wanting my family life to change, but of course it will. Thankfully, that doesn’t mean for the worst, or well, hopefully.

And then there is the change I would wish for. Sometimes people cannot see farther than themselves and their own circumstances and understandably so. Although, how awesome it would be if that could change. So many times in life people get riled over the strangest things and they hold onto those imagined or real hurts (or imagined real or real imagined) to the detriment of everything or everyone else in their lives. Seriously, wouldn’t it be nice if we could all just get along. A miracle for most families. And if you noticed I am being vague on the details, stop being so annoyingly perceptive and follow the train of thought behind the details.

In my lackluster dreams of harmony something occurs to me: change is not easy in and of ourselves. 12 step programs tell you to seek, to believe in something higher than yourself to orchestrate and maintain a change in your life. And I believe that’s the key. That dusty old book somewhere on a shelf, possibly in your house, tells us that there is no good thing in us (Romans 7:18): a lot of times we want to change, do good but can’t. It also says every good and perfect gift is from God (James 1:17). “Whoa, I didn’t know you were going to get all Biblical on me!?!” Yep, caught you off-guard huh. Anyways, since we are not all inherently good (as some would believe) without God, then it might concur that with God we can be better. It makes sense, God is love (1 John 4:8), He’s good (Psalm 119:68; Mark 10:18), He wants the best for our lives (Jeremiah 29:11). All that in the dusty book on your shelf (or maybe propping up a table) somewhere. Hence, in this new year, decade, time, era, place . . . I pray for that kind of change we all desire and also stability for myself and y’all in the 10′s.

Until then:
God grant us the serenity
to accept the things we cannot change;
courage to change the things we can;
and wisdom to know the difference.

Some other Bible verses of interest: Proverbs 3:5-6; Lamentations 3:25; Zephaniah 3:17; Ephesians 3:20-21; Philippians 4:8.

That is all.

Disney’s A Christmas Carol . . . Bah! Humbug!

My wife and I went to go see the most recent adaptation of one of my favorite yule tide stories: A Christmas Carol. A movie akin to “It’s a Wonderful Life” and “A Christmas Story” on must sees during our wintery equinox. Now you may read this review and think I am being hard on Disney’s latest disaster because of my love for the subject matter, alas no, I did not have high hopes for this un-masterpiece after being witness to Jim Carrey’s last holiday wreak in failing to reinvent another timeless classic: How the Grinch Stole Christmas.

If you’re a somewhat preceptive individual you may have realized that I did not enjoy the movie: you’d be correct. It’s hard to know where to start, so I guess I’ll start with the old Hollywood philosophy and or formula: amazing special effects = no need for a plot. Though in this case the tragedy is that the story was predetermined awesomeness. How can you lose the plot when it’s literally there ripe for the taking, and yet in a splendar of CGI extravagance they lost any meaning to “A Christmas Carol” while using the original text almost word for word. I guess it goes to show, writers aren’t always the ones to blame for a bad movie. Vision, actors, directors, producers (whatever they really do) and all kinds of financers and whatnot can play a hand in ruining good material. “It only takes one call to ruin a movie”, right?

And while I agree with some critics, that a darker take on this Christmas classic may befitting of the material and warranted even (thanks Disney for the head’s up on that one, “fun for the whole family” my @$$, this movie so should of had a PG-13 Rating), it isn’t the dark place the film goes so early in the fable that bothered me. Although, if you bring children, they’ll be quivering in (possibly under) their seats before the first spirit ever shows its bobblely head. None of the ghosts: past, present and definitely not future are very comforting. The Ghost of Christmas Present dies laughing while withering away into a grey corpse and then finally a skeleton that blows away. Nevertheless, the true lack this movie portrays is that it has no heart, no innocent. Wha?? I know, I just said I didn’t mind the edginess of the film, but even in a story with dark portents there can be heart, morals, innocence. Regardless, the film is so focused on CGI effects and affecting a tensity in the audience, it skimmed over so many parts that are the heart of “A Christmas Carol.”

Going back, there are the spirits, a must have for this famous telling. Too bad, Jim Carrey couldn’t be more wrong to play them. The first spirit was played with a forced reverence comparable to what I would call the “prayer voice”, a whispery kind of tone that is meant to take on the some holy aspect but sounds more garishly fraudulent than pious. The second spirit was just creepy (not only in the aforementioned scene, but also in his constant guffaws that were, well, creepy) and the third spirit just took the whole dark place to the height of wild, chaotic terror without any finesse. Sure, they added a few unoriginal jokes to take a bit away from the last spirit, but where the audience was most likely meant to be rolling in the aisles, they were just sitting there in unbelief at the length of the “chase scene” that really had no place in the story except to serve as one more antic to distract you from the one-dimensional storytelling throughout the entire movie. It seems to me like the moral of the story told here was if you scare an old man half to death and drop him from incredible heights several times in the coarse of a night he’ll change his dastardly ways.

The story claims that it was Tiny Tim who changed Scrooge’s heart, yet Tiny Tim is mostly glossed over and looks like a healthy little boy who happens to use a crutch. Even the meal served in Bob Cratchit’s house didn’t look at all that meager to me. Nor did the performance make me care much for either of them. I think to sum it all up, if this was the way the tale was originally told, it would have never been timeless nor a classic. More over, I think it’s a sad commentary on where Disney is today, they simply don’t have the heart or the “magic” anymore to regale us with the legend of a once hopeful youth turned into a greedy, misery old man that is made to see the error of his ways when they have yet to learn that lesson themselves. To be honest, I’m not even sure they understood the significance of Tiny Tim being able to say “God Bless us everyone” in the midst of his circumstances, it seemed to be added as merely a staple to the time-honored classic they tried to reinvent.

Digg it

That is all.

Cry Havoc

I know some of you may be rife with the little green monsters about how I ofttimes go on and on about how serene and wonderful the latest addition to our family can be, but put away those voodoo dolls, my wife and I have experienced the other extreme as well.

My oldest son had Esophageal problems when he was a baby, something the Doctors failed to diagnose for a long time chalking it up to a hyper and worrisome new mom (some doctors, not all, should be shot for using that as an excuse to be lazy and not take parental concerns seriously). Nonetheless, my (oldest) little munchkin who was literally screaming 24/7 for months and months was not just a cranky baby, he had Gastroesophageal reflux disease. And even today, as we have our two beautiful toddlers who are as rambunctious as ever and love to fight one another over everything, we still have a bit of the other side: yet they are still absolute blessings and we love them.

So, it is fitting that my wife and I experience another more peaceful extreme, and probably also fitting that those little green monsters attack you until you’re poking needles into devilish moppets out of unbearable envy.

*ouch, quit it!*

Though as Murphy’s Law or merely some cosmic sense of humor would have it, the moment I rave about my monkey’s peaceful nature he shows Dad that he will not be put into a dinky box and labeled, he’s only four months old and is already rebelling. For two days after my last blog about him, the monkey was as crotchety as a baby can get. Although, he had reason other than some cosmic balance needing to be set, he had his four month check up and some newbie who couldn’t do something as simple as stab him quickly with a needle in his sparse bit of baby fat jabbed him twice in the leg muscles and sent my wee youth into overdrive. If that wasn’t bad enough, they also had to yank on his naughty bits because his circumcision was reattaching. Poor baby, yep, they made him bleed profusely. Good thing I was at work, I might of returned the favor.

And all this hoopla brings me to my point in the most roundabout way I think I could have concocted: cranky baby = sleepless night. Ordinarily, Davin isn’t up half the night, he will cry several times throughout mostly wanting comfort. And normally if we go in there and reposition him and plug him up with a pacifier, he’s good to go. But at what point do we let him cry himself to sleep. We tried it once for all of five minutes, if that, it seemed like five minutes and that itty-bit rocked his teeny world. Let me tell you, he was not a happy camper, oh if looks could kill. He definitely gets those expressions of annoyance from my better half. They both know how to show their discontent with a single mind-melting stare.

I figure maybe we’ll try again at six months, I mean, we don’t want to damage his psyche or give him abandonment issues. And it’s not that I’m afraid of hearing my monkey scream and carry on, as much as it breaks the heart, I can endure the noise. I just wonder what’s best for him. Any suggestions are always welcome.

That is all.

The best most romantical places in OC, Part 2..

Part two of Certifiably Random’s three most romantical places in OC is an escalation in romanticalness and relationships. This isn’t for the faint of heart in amorous like endeavors, for it entails a much deeper level of co- commit- you know, the big “C” and or interest in being alone with your significant other. Hopefully the latter still applies years down the line after your fiftieth plus anniversary.

My wife and I have always loved getting away for a night or weekend to simply enjoy each other’s company. And to that end, we’ve experienced a vast array of crash pads in varying degrees of quality and status: everything from 2 stars to the highest of accommodations is our fair County and I’d have to say, well, never go below 2 and a half stars although I’d also add it seems pointless to me to go over three. The higher end locations seem not to deliver to the average joe. I’m not saying I am so without class that their amenities are lost on me. I’m saying that their actual room amenities are bare minimal, they spend most of their luxuries on the activities in the hotel itself, whilest your room is left lacking. The beds are always nice and that is a definite plus, but the rooms while a splendid display of decor, have little else to offer. For some, this is ideal, but for my wife and I, we enjoy the details, and we don’t often like to leave our room. *smiles wryly*

That being said, one of the Hotels I’ve always enjoyed is the Holiday Inn Express, seems like a cheap option, and price wise it is, but their suites are extremely nice with all the amenities that make for an amazing stay. Plus, they have more than your continental breakfast fare each morning. We stayed in one of these hotels during our trip to Idaho, in fact the 2.5 star location was the highest rated hotel in the Idaho Falls area, making the choice a little easier on my part, especially with the reasonable rates.

Although, this is about the best most romantical places in OC, otherwise I would be going on about the Downtown Doubletree (a 3 star option) in San Diego or the mecca of all hotels, the Hotel Del Coronado. The latter is the exception to the rule in lavish stays, it’s a costly place but well worth the money. And yet, other than our San Diego oasis, my favorite OC hotel isn’t in Newport Beach or near Disneyland, they sport some fine stop offs for a weekend caper, but no, for me the best most romantical place in OC for lodging purposes is the Ayres Suites at Yorba Linda. It’s a smaller four story Hotel and best described by their website:

Ayres’ first rate, friendly service meets the elegance of a European-style boutique hotel. Ayres Suites at Yorba Linda is everything you could ask for in a home away from home. Enter the French Provencal hotel lobby, the perfect drawing room for guests to meet. The carefully selected antiques, imported art and fresco painted walls exude refinement and good taste. Relax in our plush, floral upholstered furniture. Feel the warmth of our large marble fireplace. And the hospitality of our daily complimentary breakfast.

My wife and I enjoy this place so much that we opted to spend our wedding night there. The rooms, decorated in the style of a European bed and breakfast are spacious and emaculate with extremely comfortable beds. The service is unrivaled and they too have your more than normal continental fare in the morning: a breakfast buffet that is plentiful and yummy. In addition they always put out wine, cheese and delicious cookies in the evening and in room there is everything you might need for a comfortable stay: including those small things you never see in the nicer accommodations of 4 star hotels, like a refrigerator or a microwave. I suppose the rich may find these things trivial, but I love having those type of niceties in my room. And I would be amiss to mention our favorite amenity, the Jetted bathtub.

So, Certifiably Random’s not-so humble recommendation for romanticalness is to actually get away and spend your time together in blissful comfort at the Ayres Suites in Yorba Linda.

Digg it.

That is all.

Happy Holydays

A season of thanksgiving is upon us and there are so many things to be grateful for during this time of year governed by annual equinoxes, or as I like to call it: the seasons of seasons. This late fall early winter time between that is in perpetuum (forever) magical. And not just because of the massive opportunities for gorging yourself on craptastic food: described thus because while it almost all tastes fan-freaking-tastic, it is most definitely usually junk, save of course the tryptophanic induced coma several of the feasting occasions induce. Mmmm, turkey.

So I am thankful for the clump of holidays at the end of the year and consider them as the original word, hāligdæg, would imply: holy days. A sacred time set apart for family and joy and love, and well, all that good yet mushy stuff. Not to say you won’t get a heaping dose of helpful reality to bring you back down to earth in a plummety kind of way. Within these times set aside for family and friends there is bound to be dissent in the ranks with so many people set close together in the utmost stressful conditions of trying to make their once a year celebration come off without a hitch amidst all the drama and constant problems that don’t get a vacation simply because you do.

Nonetheless, tis the season, and the big mother of them all has yet to rear its magnanimous head. The one time of year we should be able to put aside differences and petty plights and come together as the king of Christmas Carols attests, “I have always thought of Christmas time, when it has come round, as a good time; a kind, forgiving, charitable time; the only time I know of, in the long calendar of the year, when men and women seem by one consent to open their shut-up hearts freely…”

And as you’re plowing through someone for that perfect gift at a more than perfect price, remember “the Grinch, with his Grinch-feet ice cold in the snow, stood puzzling and puzzling, how could it be so? …[Christmas still]… came without ribbons. It came without tags. It came without packages, boxes or bags. And he puzzled and puzzled ’till his puzzler was sore. Then the Grinch thought of something he hadn’t before. What if Christmas, he thought, doesn’t come from a store. What if Christmas, perhaps, means a little bit more.”

Christmas isn’t merely about lavish gifts. I’ve received my far share of gifts in my 33 (yikes) years, and the best ones usually didn’t cost much if anything at all. Some kind words, time, a truly needed item all represent the greater ideal: love. And the one thing I would disagree with my favorite seasonal flicks on (I own practically every Christmas movie ever made), is that Christmas cannot die. Even when it faces the harsh light of reality, it thrives under such conditions as long as we remember, the Spirit of Christmas is divined from the heart (and maybe that’s the lesson they’re trying to teach).

Wouldn’t it be nice if as we say, “Happy Holydays”, “Merry Christmas” or whatever cheery or miserly winter greeting you give, if we were to possibly pick out one person in need to give them more than just words this year. Even Scrooge found the amelioration (betterment) to himself in giving for that warm fuzzy feeling and tax deducting benefits. I’m just saying.

“May the spirit of Christmas bring you peace,
The gladness of Christmas give you hope,
The warmth of Christmas grant you love.”

That is all.