The Ramblings of Dave

Those of you who know me well know that I am passionate about a few things: God, my country, my family, and Spongebob Squarepants. As a subset of the second passion, I fancy (translation: “go gaga for”) military aircraft. In fact, growing up I always wanted to be an F-16 pilot (for those of you who do not know what that is, a pilot is the operator of an aircraft). For the last 10 years I have told myself that, if it weren’t for my, to put it nicely, ‘imperfect’ vision, I would have joined the Air Force and flown an F-16. Alas, as age has brought its share of wisdom, I can now admit that the real reason I did not join the Air Force is because I probably wouldn’t have lasted 12 seconds in boot camp. I imagine my time in boot camp would have gone something like this:

Instructor: “Welcome everyone to Air Force boot camp. Before we begin the drills, we need everyone to sign in at the registration table. Remember, last name first, then first name.” (I assume there would be more profanity in that statement, so feel free to insert a %$*^ or an @#!% as you read the sentence above)

Me: “OH MY GOODNESS!! They said this would be hard. I can’t do it! (sob) I QUIT! (sob) I think I am going to puke.”

As my flight hours n the F-16 have come solely in the simulator that is my brain, I was highly excited about the Air Show returning to Davis Monthan Air Force Base this year. It had been three years since the last show and I was going through airplane-viewing withdrawals. So, Saturday morning, I made the pilgrimage to Davis Monthan (hereafter referred to as DM…oh shoot, I hope I don’t refer to anything else with the initials of DM, thereby causing confusion…note to self: no references to Dolly Madison products or Dancing Monkeys) along with nearly 99,999 of my fellow nerds (sorry gang, it’s a tough pill to swallow, but we need to accept what we are).

I took Ashton with me and, thankfully I brought the stroller for him. I parked the car in approximately Utah and walked about a mile and a half to get to the exhibits. There we met my parents, sister, and brother-in-law and we began to gaze upon the large objects showcasing the might of our Military. After the soldiers got creeped out by our staring, we took in all of the aircraft. There was a very nice selection of aircraft this year: a B-52, a B-1, an F-14 (Ashton’s favorite), an F-22, and about 347 other airplanes. Additionally, we enjoyed several aircraft demonstrations (my favorites were the F-18 and Thunderbirds). Additionally, there were exhibits showcasing World War II memorabilia, Police and Border Patrol Helicopters, and the Budweiser Clydesdales, which made total sense.

While I was in my own version of heaven, Ashton couldn’t have cared less. He spent most of the time curled up in the stroller trying to nap (probably an aftereffect of driving home from vacation the day prior). This was a difficult proposition however as every 20 minutes several jet engines were usually in full afterburner about 100 yards away. He perked right up however once I bought him a salted pretzel and lemonade.

Speaking of which, I would rate the food at the Air Show as 2 Ailerons up. I had a Philly cheese steak (my first ever believe it or not) and a funnel cake (the most magnificent food item on the planet, slightly edging out cherry Toaster Strudels). It made standing in line with approximately the population of Oro Valley worth it. However, those two items alone cost about the same as the annual taxes of a single earner in the highest income tax bracket once the health care legislation goes into effect (Hey-yo! I bet you didn’t see THAT political zinger coming).

My family and I decided to head out after the Thunderbirds demonstration had ended. Apparently there was a country concert taking place after the show. However, after spending 6 hours massaging my eardrums with jet blasts, all I would have heard was ringing anyway. Judging by some of the apparel worn by my fellow Air Show attendees, the concert was a huge success (let’s just say there were lots of torn jean shorts, beer/fishing shirts, and tank tops with matching farmer’s tans).

With my annual quota of aircraft viewing met, I can now happily start the countdown to the 2012 Air Show.

We got back Friday night from a few days spent in southern California. Our destination was the Disneyland resort. I believe half of Arizona had the same idea judging by the U of A and ASU apparel we saw during the week (last week was spring break for Arizona). While I was not able to solve the puzzle I had brought up on Facebook as to what was so unique about Cinderella’s feet (I faced two obstacles between me and the answer: 1.) Disney frowns on moving character’s dresses to look at their feet, a fact that, I informed their security, would be nice to have posted around the park, and 2.) the “Cinderella” we met was actually a very clever imposter) we had a great time nonetheless.

Both Ashton and Lynsey were tall enough to ride every ride in both parks except for two, so it was a blast watching them enjoy their first big thrill rides. Ashton’s favorite was the Tower of Terror and Lynsey really liked Splash Mountain. Hearing the kids laugh and giggle on Big Thunder Mountain Railroad was really worth the price of admission.

Alyson did super good the whole trip despite having only a few short naps. She hung in great. It was great to watch her on It’s a Small World as she smiled and waved to all of the animatronic characters. Every once in a while we had to find a secluded corner to let her crawl around and get her fill of putting random objects in her mouth (random fact: I learned in a book bought at the park that most of the plants in Tomorrowland are edible).

During our trip I learned a few things:

Disney knows how to treat guests. After finding out it was Lynsey’s b-day, the hotel gave her an 8 X 10 autographed by the Disney princesses and a birthday button. Anytime any Cast Members saw her “Celebrating a birthday” button, they would always acknowledge her and say “Happy birthday”. (Minor side note: she is going through an anti-social phase. When we told her she can’t ignore people who wish her happy b-day and must say “thank you” instead, she elected to remove her birthday button.) Additionally, after Lynsey was made over as Sleeping Beauty in the Bibbidi Bobbidi Boutique, every cast member we came across said “Your Majesty” and bowed/curtsied…even the Captain Hook character.

Taking kids to Disneyland means checking your cool card at the gate. Besides having to enter shops named the Bibbidi Bobbidi Boutique, due to the height of my kids (or lack thereof) I needed to accompany them on most rides. Definitely a plus on rides like Space Mountain and the Matterhorn. Not so much a benefit when the ride we are waiting for is Snow White’s Scary Adventure (not exactly scary…more loud/menacing) or the Jumping Jellyfish (not exactly jumping…more like timed hydraulic altitude increases). Thankfully, anybody else around who could possibly judge are in the exact same position with their kids.

As an aside, I found it even more awkward than normal to wait for my son to do his “business” at the park. Anytime he had to make a “Winnie the Pooh” I would have to stand around the restroom waiting for him. I felt very uncomfortable in this situation. Anywhere else I would occupy my time by looking around, however, since 45% of my view was typically at occupied urinals and another 45% of my view was towards mirrors providing reflections of occupied urinals I could not use this tactic. In order to avoid the perception that I was staring at someone as they relieved themselves I had to either check my phone or stare at the other 10% of the view which consisted of the garbage can and the floor. To make matters worse, I was just standing around the bathroom with a giant camera around my neck. A camera that, as it is only fitting, has a pink neckstrap. I think this caused some concern to patrons of the bathroom who must have thought I was a pervert or pedophile taking pictures of people in the bathroom, but I casually explained it away by letting them know I was waiting for a little boy.

Those of you who like Monte Cristo sandwiches are high. I had heard rave reviews of the Monte Cristo served at the Blue Bayou restaurant. As we were on vacation, I decided to give it a whirl (at $21 no less!!). While it didn’t taste bad per se, it was just a little weird to me. Egg batter, powdered sugar, and grape jelly go together, and ham, turkey, and cheese go together, but lumping ALL of them together just didn’t taste right. Kind of like mixing dinner and desert. In my opinion, this odd mixture is why meatloaf ice cream hasn’t taken off yet.

I do not have the ear for lyrics I thought I had. After coming down the main drop in the Splash Mountain ride there is a little celebration area where several characters sing the “How do You Do” song from the Uncle Remus cartoon. I recommend Youtubing the song right now so you can fully appreciate the lyrics.

No matter how hard I have tried to decipher the lyrics, I hear “Pretty good, show us your bum” during the chorus. While I do have a hard time seeing Disney incorporating lyrics such as this in a movie and ride, I was not able to hear anything other than those words. Thanks to the magic of Google, I tracked down the lyrics and found out they say “pretty good, sure as your born”. That makes a lot more sense. I am a little embarrassed about all of those times I had tried to comply with the instructions I thought I was hearing.

I am never taking kids to Disneyland again. Our previous trip to Disneyland (about 3 years ago) had turned into a disaster when 80% of our party (we had gone with my sister and parents) came down with a stomach bug. For a full day we were holed up in the hotel with partially digested food coming from both north and south exit portals (Ashton and Lynsey were the first ones hit, Karina came down with it on the drive home, and I somehow managed to avoid it…thank you obsessive compulsive handwashing habit!). We went through countless sheets and pillow cases and had to use a hotel washing machine to wash several pajamas that were covered in chunder. While being sick at home is no fun, it is still preferable to being sick and stuck in a hotel 450 miles from home. After that incident, we were a little gun-shy about heading to Disneyland again. Well, after 3 years, we figured we had nothing to worry about (also considering the family had the stomach bug already a couple of weeks ago).

The first portion of our trip went flawlessly. Nobody got sick or hurt and, as the sun began to set on Thursday night (our last night at Disneyland), we thought we beat the “curse”. How wrong we were! As Ashton and I took a final ride on Space Mountain before heading over to Splash Mountain for our trip finale, Lynsey, Alyson, and Karina hung out in Tomorrowland waiting for us. The preferred waiting spot in Tomorrowland during the trip was a giant brown water marble, for lack of a better term (no idea how else to describe it, but apparently we will be seeing plenty of them in the future). It sits in a big open area in Tomorrowland and kids are always around it trying to maneuver the marble around on its base (it’s about 4-5 feet in diameter…for those of you who are bad with geometry, it is like the size of a blue whale eye). As Lynsey was working with other kids to turn the marble thingy her new shoes slipped on the water at the base. In an effort to avoid ruining the manicure she received during her Bibbidi Bobbdi Boutique makeover from the previous day, she bravely avoided catching her fall with her hands in favor of using her lower lip. The subsequent impact split her lip wide open. Thankfully, some of the parents in the area sprang into action to help Karina by calling medics and bringing napkins and ice. By the time Ashton and I got there, a Disneyland nurse was attending to Lynsey who, as a side note, is not a fan of bleeding. We were whisked away to a heretofore unexplored section of the Magic Kingdom known as the backlot to get to the First Aid station. The nurse told us that the cut would need stitches and we would need to head to a hospital. I immediately headed out to run to the hotel room for my keys so I could pick up the family in the van. As Murphy’s Law is unbreakable, I had to run through the park as everyone was setting up for the parade, a very difficult task indeed. And to make matters even worse, by the time I made it to the van, the battery was dead. Thankfully Disney security showed up AMAZINGLY fast and I was up and running in no time (they were there within about 3 minutes with a portable jump-starter contraption).

We decided to drive about 6 miles to a teaching/children’s hospital nearby. Thankfully the ER staff was very responsive and we were done with the whole procedure in about 2 hours. A doctor from the children’s hospital came to the ER to explain to Lynsey everything that was going to happen to her and to let Lynsey pick out a movie to watch while they worked on her. Lynsey was a super champ and acted very bravely. She now has three stitches in her lower lip (or, as she says it, they put a string in her lip).

Even thought the situation, like our last trip, turned out fine, Karina and I will seriously have to think about other, less cursed vacation destinations.

Overall the vacation was a needed breakaway from everyday life. We loved watching the kids take everything in (except most of their $8 kid’s meals incidentally) and see their favorite movie characters in real life. While much of what I mentioned in the last blog I wrote about Disney holds true (check the archives), it is a different experience entirely when you have kids who can enjoy the trip. Based on our luck though, I think we will be finding some other kid-themed vacation destination for the future (a Nickelodeon park, SeaWorld, Vegas?).

I would like to apologize in advance for any offense I may cause with the following blog. I anticipate it being a completely misogynistic column. And for those of you who are unfamiliar with that term, a column can mean either a slender upright support or, as I am using it, an article. I will make use of generalities that more than likely are not true in every case. For example, when I say that no dudes like sequins, there are obvious exceptions like, for example, Liberace. And when I say that all of the ladies like to shop, we are all aware that there are notable excep…well, I guess that one is pretty much true in every case. Regardless, please read this column with a grain of salt. I will now pause so that you may go to your pantry to find said grain….(pause)….alright, let’s do this.

I, like all dudes, love sports. I love to play (most of) them and I generally like to watch them. My personal favorites to watch are college basketball (especially the U of A), pro and college football (again, preferably if the U of A is playing), and major league baseball. My wife on the other hand can’t stand them. She does not get the logic behind the passion and I can understand that. On the exterior, following sports is completely illogical. We follow the ups and downs of a team throughout an entire year only for the season to end and it to start all over again from scratch the next year.

But you cannot use logic when contemplating a dude’s connection with sports. I would postulate that I am not alone when I say that I am borderline superstitious when it comes to watching games (holy cow, I just noticed I used a record amount of I’s in that last sentence. Count them, there are four. That’s right, four I’s…incidentally that was my nickname in high school along with “dude who played basketball at lunch and stunk up fifth period”). I remember specifically the night the University of Arizona missed out on a chance to play in the Final Four when they lost a heartbreaker to Illinois. The U of A was up big late in the game (somewhere around 17 points) and that’s when Karina decided to watch the game with me. Starting then, the U of A began to lose their grip on the game. I immediately made the connection that the problem was Karina watching the game and I raced into the bedroom to finish the contest. Alas, it was already too late. The U of A lost the game. I owe the Tucson community a great deal for that transgression. And like a lot of guys I have certain articles of clothing that we notice seem to help our teams win (for example, my red U of A shirt that is undefeated when watching the football team, my brown hat that helps the basketball squad, or my red and blue underoos that give the swim team the required spark to prove victorious in a meet). While I know that what I wear has absolutely no connection with the performance of the team, I also do not wish to tempt fate by not doing my part to help the squad. That’s why for big games I will make sure I do everything in my power possible to will the team to victory. I’ll sit in my game chair with my game outfit on eating the game snacks that saw the team to victory last time and sitting in the correct position (come on leg, don’t go to sleep on me now, it is only the third quarter!). Now, I am (mostly) exaggerating there. I do have shorts I like to wear for games, but at least I wash them!!

I also love to play sports. However, besides some little league baseball I haven’t really played organized sports. And it’s not for a lack of trying. I tried out for baseball in high school to no avail (apparently missing every pitch in the soft toss is not how Albert Pujols got his start). I also tried out for basketball. I was a senior though and could only make varsity. And apparently the varsity team already had the short, uncoordinated, winded guy they needed to fill out the team (dang you Wilhelm Rumpleplutz…that spot was MINE). And I was going to try out for football. I was in a weight training class (I know this may be hard for many of you to believe based on my physique, I was not teaching the class) that was taught by the legendary varsity football coach, an old gruff man. Much like in those inspirational movies, I walked up to the coach in class and asked when football tryouts were. He literally looked me up and down and laughed. Needless to say, it was a short movie. My spirit broken, I did the next manliest thing I could think of and went to the school library. It taught me a good lesson though. I didn’t need to be on the football team and I certainly didn’t need the inevitable knee injuries and respect from my peers that would inevitably result from my joining the team.

So, I find solace in playing pickup games of basketball (and sometimes football) with other guys. And despite the shortcomings I listed above (and others like a general lack of coordination), I can generally hold my own…tears in check after I somehow snatch defeat from the jaws of victory for my team.

Incidentally, I find the paradox between the manly image a sporting man projects and reality amusing. The manlier a sport is seen as by society, generally the tighter the pants are and the more physical contact between sweaty men (ie. football). It is funny to think that most guys on the basketball court would cringe if they accidentally brushed hands with any of the other guys while say, walking around a sporting goods store (ladies, if it helps, you can assume the mall in that analogy). Yet they will enthusiastically bump and bounce up against other guys as long as the game is in process. And trust me, that kind of behavior is only acceptable while the game is in process. Any further bumping, even two seconds after the game-winning basket is made, will award the perpetrator a black eye and a lifetime ban from the court in question. Unless that contact is a butt-pat which for some odd reason is acceptable (once again, timing here is critical…there is a fine line between a purely platonic butt-pat and butt-cuppage – my solution to avoid a mix-up is to avoid buttal contact entirely).

Well, I hoped this little journey into the male psyche proved worth the time to read it. I hope to see you dudes out on the court in the future. I also hope that my wife doesn’t read this column with the oversensitivity found in every woman. If that is the case, I will be bringing my sleeping bag outside to the doghouse.

(Of course I am kidding about all of the generalities I made above. I was completely kidding. I understand that every human is a unique individual, free from the boundaries of behavior society tends to burden them with based on gender. Now can I come back in the bed honey?)

As many of you may know, Ashton recently started Kindergarten. As I never attended Kindergarten myself, I am finding the experience fascinating. The word kindergarten is derived from teh Latin root words “kinder”, meaning “gathering”, and “garten”, which means “total chaos”. Of course I made this up based on my assumption as to what must happen when you pen up a large group of hyper, energetic 5 and 6 year olds in a room for 6 hours a day.

Allow me to digress for a moment. 6 hours a day is considered “full day” kindergarten. This “full day” involves probably 13 minutes of actual work after all the recesses and lunch breaks. I think most labor unions could learn a thing or two about negotiating workloads from the kindergarteners…they are ruthless.

As this blog discusses education, I thought it may be a good idea to impart some knowledge to you, the loyal reader. In reality, the term kindergarten actually means “A program or class for four-year-old to six-year-old children that serves as an introduction to school.” (this information was obtained online from dictionary.com)(the previous comment was what is known as a “citation”. Interestingly, a “citation” is also what you get for streaking your neighborhood wearing nothing but a pair of socks and a purple wig…err…at least that’s what I hear.) I guess kindergarten does serve as an introduction of sorts. The kind of introduction that says ‘here is something completely unlike the next 12 years you will spend in school’. I have lovingly developed this opinion based on two sources of information: 1.) my own experience in school, and 2.) Ashton’s description of what he’s done every day in school.

For your benefit, the following is an example of a typical day in school for Ashton:

At approximately 7:15 we drop him off at school. For the next 15 minutes he shares the playground with about 834 other children.

At 7:30 am the kids are called into their classroom. They then work on mentally grueling tasks such as “coloring”, “shape-guessing”, and urgently holding up their hands signaling a full bladder.

At 9am they are released for recess. Here they learn things such as “how to mock the kid with glasses”, “synonyms for defecation”, and “how to ensure every item of clothing is coated in an even layer of dirt”.

After 15 minutes of recess, the kids go back in for some more “work”. I gather this is the point where they draw their heads on various creatures. Of course one cannot do such a thing for much more than an hour so they head out to lunch at 10:30.

At Ashton’s school, the cafeteria is shared by students from a myriad of grade levels. And, demonstrating the planning only our Government is capable of, the cafeteria is located only about 3/4 of a mile from the kindergarten classrooms. I may have slightly exaggerated the distance, but it is far enough that the kids ride in a bus to the cafeteria when it is raining (seriously). During open house, Ashton took us to the cafeteria and Karina and I were amazed by how far the kids have to walk for lunch. Us adults were winded from the walk and our legs are 3 and a half times as long as the average kindergarteners. I think I may petition the school board to add a rest stop midway.

After lunch the kids do their “specials”. No, this is not another synonym for defecation. It is actually a different activity the kids do each day. For example, on Tuesdays the kids do music (can we all agree a kindergarten music teacher has to be the most patient person on planet Earth?), Wednesdays is the library, Thursday is computer lab, and Friday’s are Physical Education (also known as “P.E.”,” gym”, or “torture” if you are the kid everyone is using as the designated dodge ball target). The one I am still unsure about is Monday’s. According to the calendar, this “special” is counseling. I still haven’t gathered what that actually is. Perhaps the teacher asks the kids how it made them feel when Barbie’s arm fell off or they show them ink blots to see what the kids imagine. At that age however, I would assume all the blots would look like a booger or poo (WHOOP WHOOP!!!! ATTENTION: I have just set a new personal blog record with my third reference to doody! I would like to thank my family for always believing in me).

I think there may be another union mandated recess or smoke-break at some point in the afternoon. Then, at 2:05, it is time for the kids to head home. This is when we ask Ashton for the details on what he did at school and he responds with “I don’t know” or “stuff”.

In reality however, Ashton has a great teacher and is taking a full interest in school. I am really happy to see that he is growing in terms of his social skills and knowledge. I think that perhaps he will find, as I did, that school can be a rewarding venture that leads to self-awareness, a larger knowledge base, and an average of 2 wedgies per week.

The family and I recently had the opportunity to go on vacation. We decided to go to San Diego and check out a few of the local attractions. A ‘brief’ synopsis of our trip follows…

On Monday morning, Karina and I surprised the kids by telling them we were going to go on vacation that day. Their excitement and enthusiasm was immediately rewarded with a 7 hour ride in the van. Karina had to stay in Tucson a bit longer than me and the kids so she could attend the funeral of her good friend’s husband (side note: Dan Forchione tragically passed away on September 29. He faithfully served his community as a member of the University of Arizona Police Department and left behind a loving wife and beautiful 9 month old daughter. R.I.P. Dan.). As a result, I drove Ashton and Lynsey to San Diego and Karina flew in later with Alyson.

The drive to San Diego was very, very, very uneventful. I was alone up front while Ashton and Lynsey watched DVDs in the back of the van. It was the traveling equivalent of watching paint dry. But at least the scenery was terrible. I had brought only one CD to listen to and the only radio stations I could pick up most of the way were from south of the border (not that I don’t like the accordion, I just couldn’t understand the lyrics). As a result, I ended up conversing with our talking GPS most of the way. We have affectionately named her ‘Betsy’. A brief transcript of the trip:

Me: Hey Betsy, how is it going?
Betsy: In two miles, exit to the right and merge onto I-8 West.
Me: Haha. You said “I ate west”. How did it taste?
Betsy: Continue on I-8 for 330 miles.
Me: Karina never laughs at that one either. So what’s up?

That conversation may seem desperate, but please don’t feel bad. Betsy gave me more attention in that conversation than I got from females all four years of high school combined.

We finally arrived in San Diego and, after checking into our hotel, Ashton, Lynsey, and I headed to the airport to pick up the girls. While we waited for Karina’s plane to arrive, I bought the kids their first souvenirs at the airport. They each got their own snow globe (or in this case, glitter/plastic chunks globe). Lynsey managed to drop hers in the concourse within approximately three minutes. I cleaned up the plastic as much as I could and took her to the bathroom to wash the liquid from her feet. I wondered what the people walking by thought as the glittery mess made it appear as if Rainbow Brite had just blown chunks (pardon my slang, for those of you unfamiliar with this term, to ‘blow chunks’ means to chunder).

Once our family was reunited, we headed to our hotel for a relaxing night of sleep before our first big day. We stayed at the Doubletree Club Hotel in the Hotel Circle are of San Diego (this area is aptly named as there is a high concentration of hotels and it is roughly shaped like a crooked rectangle). We had high expectations for the hotel considering the price we were paying during what I would think is an off-season for tourism. Unfortunately, we were fairly disappointed for a few reasons. First of all the room was very crooked. My ears practically dropped from teh change in altitude from one side to the other. I felt like I was in a villain’s lair in the old 60′s Batman TV series (you know, the one that excessively used onomatopoeia during fight sequences: “BOOM”, “POW”, “BARRACK”). The walls were super thin as well. This did not bother us so much as we had quiet neighbors. However, I am sure they were far less than pleased to have 3 kids under 7 years old rooming next door to them. There was also a VERY used bandage in the covers provided for one of the kids’ bunks. See Exhibit A for proof.

Exhibit A

(Side note: How does whoever has a gaping flesh wound such as the one previously covered by that grotesque bandage not realize their band-aid is missing?! And how does the bandage not get caught in the WASHING MACHINE I COUNT ON DOUBLETREE TO USE BEFORE I SLEEP IN THEIR BED?!?!)

But all this shouldn’t matter as long as there is a good bed to sleep in. Unfortunately, the bed was strike 4. It was as, Karina likes to refer to it, a “taco bed”. In other words, the bed is shaped very much like a taco and so, after 8 hours of sleep, any object is inevitably drawn towards the center of the bed, not unlike a black hole.

To top off the whole hotel situation, the hotel charged $14 per day for parking!! For the love!! For $14 a day, I could have gotten half of a Motel 6 room including the bed, semi-functional cooling unit, and assorted fungi and bacteria! Plus the parks charged $12 for parking requiring us to fork over  a whopping total of $26 per day, just to park my car!! I need to invent some sort of car-stacking mechanism whereby three cars can park on top of each other. That way when you travel with friends to amusement parks and hotels, you’d only pay 1/3 the normal charge for parking (See illustration for design details):

David that is ingenious, I need to remember to keep that to myself.

Days 2 and 3
On the second day of the vacation we all agreed to visit Legoland. We excitedly packed into the van for the half hour drive to Carlsbad. Eagerly we headed towards the park only to find a sign that said “Legoland: Closed”. Yep, we pulled a total Griswold. Apparently Legoland is not open on Tuesdays and Wednesdays, at least in October. I felt so bad as we drove the half hour back to San Diego. But, this gave us the opportunity to hit Seaworld which we all loved.

At Seaworld we spent the day gazing at giant, blubbery creatures who spend all day eating. And, in addition to the tourists, there were sea creatures! It was fascinating to learn how all of the glorious animals on display live in the wild. For example, Orca’s travel in pods and sometimes play with their food, dolphins enjoy playing within their pod, and apparently sea lions enjoy wearing silly hats while dancing with humans. At least that’s what I took away.

In addition to the animals there was a cute Sesame-Street themed kids area (The Count: “How many sea creatures have been captured and put on display to illustrate vy sea creatures should be left alone? One sea creature…two sea creatures…Ah, Ah, Ah [this episode demonstrated in the picture below]) and cool ride called “Journey to Atlantis” that was a blast. Overall, we gave the park a Varner family 9 thumbs up.

Here are pictures I offer as proof that we were actually at Seaworld and enjoying ourselves…

Days 4 and 5
On Thursday we headed back to Carlsbad to check out Legoland. The park was surprisingly large and definitely geared towards younger children. The rides were generally no bigger than those you’d find at the fair. On the plus side, the rides were not set up on a tractor trailer the night before. While the park was only open until 5pm, we were able to hit all of the rides over the course of two days. Our final family rating was 5 thumbs up.

Here are some pictures of us at Legoland. As an added bonus, I have included a picture showing our favorite Lego exhibit. It was a (unintentional?) portrayal of a violent vehicular/pedestrian accident.

Day 6
On the last day we spent some time exploring the San Diego area. We first went to Seaport Village, a quaint shopping district with numerous, unique shops. From there we hit the USS Midway museum. This was my personal favorite part of the trip as I love all things aircraft carrier. Being on an actual aircraft was very exciting for me. (I am the red blob in the picture below)

Finally we went to Coronado, which I hear is very beautiful. I will have to take those people whom I heard it from’s words as it was incredibly foggy (See picture).

We went to the beach and I’m pretty sure I actually saw some of the ocean. The kids were enormously excited to go to the beach. Ashton wanted to look for seashells and Lynsey wanted me to help her build a sand castle. You’ll be happy to know both of their dreams were crushed. Ashton was able to find only two broken pieces of seashell. I figured by his reaction that it was time for an uplifting life lesson from dad. So I told him that God makes beautiful seashells, much like each of us. Then the seagulls of life’s bitter disappointments come to feed on the meaty innards of happiness. By the time they are done, all that remains is a broken, empty shell of the beautiful creature that once existed. I think he got the point.

Lynsey’s disappointment had to do more with unrealistically high expectations. The only castles she knows are those in the Barbie and Disney movies. They are always enormous, shiny structures with numerous turrets and flags waving about. What I ended up creating resembled more of a Water Buffalo turd. I explained that her daddy wasn’t an architect or a sculptor and that someday, when she needs to determine the net present value of a given cash flow, she will learn to appreciate my unique talents.

Here is a picture of me working on my masterpiece (cut me some slack. Some castles must have looked like cakes)…

Day 7
On Sunday we packed up and headed back to Tucson. Thankfully I had Karina up front to talk to as she played her Nintendo DS. Now that we are back at home, it’s time to start planning the next vacation. I’ll start researching which hotels offer “tostada mattresses”.

As most of you are aware, Karina and I are expecting baby number 3 at any moment. Alyson Grace is 39 weeks old and already displaying some personality traits similar to her mother’s, namely the stubbornness as she refuses to  vacate Karina’s womb. (Note to self: Karina would probably not like that last sentence, remember to change Karina to “a mule”, but definitely do not leave BOTH in).

For some reason Karina is finding having a 10 pound human inside her to be a slight discomfort. As such she is doing her best to try everything short of a crowbar to persuade Alyson to enter the world. This has been a learning experience for me. I did not realize how many wives’ tales there were out there (and by “out there” I mean “on the internet”) that supposedly provide the key to inducing labor (example: “this method is GUARANTEED to induce birth within 40 weeks!!”). Here are some of my favorites:

Walking: This one seemed promising and was supported by various web sites, which means it must be true. As Karina is fully preggers, I told her I would take the bullet on this one and walk while she rested at home. After several trips around the block, I am sorry to report, nothing happened.

Eggplant parmesan: Eating this devilish creation came highly recommended from several sources. In theory, I can see why it would work. I assume the convulsions brought about by vomiting the eggplant out after consumption could trigger similar uterine contractions. Karina and I hit the Olive Garden recently to attempt this method. Despite all of the actually tasty stuff on the menu, Karina showed her gumption (which I promptly told her to cover) and ordered the eggplant. She was also kind enough to force me to try a bite. The dish tasted nothing like I expected as I was expecting “good”. Rather, it resembled what I imagine eating a breaded mouse turd covered in sauce and cheese would taste like. While I am exaggerating slightly, it wasn’t my favorite item on the menu.

This method has also failed to bear fruit, or a baby.

I can’t say I blame the baby for refusing to come out. She is currently stuffed upside down in pitch blackness practically eating her knees. While this seems miserable to you and I, it is all Alyson knows. Therefore, in her mind (I am confident she is fully capable of rationalization currently) there is a 50% chance the outside world brings sweet relief. That means there is also a 50% chance it can only get worse!! Against those odds, I’d probably do the same thing and do everything in my power to remain in the sweet, sweet uterus, breathing my own urine.

The good news in all this is that Karina is currently progressing. She stands (actually sits mostly) at 3cm dilation. Many of you may be wondering what this means. Well, I will tell you (you may want to take this opportunity to clear children from the general area): 3cm is approximately 1.18 inches.

So hopefully we will be rushing to the hospital soon, her in intense pain and me approximately the shade of a ghost with xeroderma pigmentosum (me praying the whole way that we make it to the hospital so Alyson’s first memory of her father isn’t a girly scream followed by a loud “thud”). When that day comes, I will make sure you are all informed within 3 months.

As you can probably guess by my lack of recent updates, I have had a very busy couple of months. I just want to hit the highlights:

Karina and I celebrated our 7th anniversary on December 29. My mom and sister were kind enough to offer to watch the kids so that Karina and I could spend the night together. We decided to head to Phoenix. Karina found a good deal on a nice Hilton resort. By the time we made it to the hotel it was about 10:30 at night as we had stopped at IKEA (great collection of eclectic furniture), Rawhide Steakhouse (great steak and, surprisingly, asparagus), Harkins theaters (great popcorn and comfy seats), and Walgreens (great selection of canes, reading glasses, and back massagers).

When we arrived at the hotel, we were greeted by a very kind customer service manager who, as it turns out, went to school at the University of Arizona. We struck up a friendly conversation and he told us that, since it was our anniversary, he would give us the “Ambassador suite.” I personally think this had to do more with the fact that nobody had reserved the “Ambassador suite” that night. This is in no way surprising because I cannot imagine there are too many ambassadors traveling in early January.

Well, let me tell you, “Ambassador” sells this suite short! This room was fit for a political representative of a foreign country! There were two TVs, a conference table with six chairs covered in gaudy fabric, and an eight-inch wide balcony. Karina’s favorite part was the fact that there were two bathrooms. I liked this as well as it meant I did not need to waste energy on a courtesy flush. (It is this exact romantic spirit that has led to seven wonderful years of marriage)

Well, as we were only spending one night, Karina and I had packed only the “bear essentials”, such as pots for honey, books on catching wild deer, and extra musk. I jest of course. But we did pack light. This means I packed all of my necessities (deodorant and a change of underoos) in a backpack while Karina squeezed her items in a duffel bag, three suitcases, a railroad boxcar, and 3 small U-Hauls. She would probably not like me saying that, particularly because I usually pack heavier than she does. But it is a fun stereotype to propagate, so what the hey.

One of my favorite perks from our room was the complimentary bathrobes. They don’t provide those at Motel 6! I took advantage of the opportunity to live like the other half lives by putting on the robe and walking around asking Karina “Where is the caviar, love?”

Overall it was a great little getaway. Much better from our last anniversary which was spent horse riding in the wilderness with a bitter divorcee who firmly believed in the 7-year itch.

It’s a girl! Yep, we had our 18-week sonogram (I guess it was more Karina that had it) and the baby is healthy and female! Lynsey is very excited to have a little sister. I started thinking about the sonogram process and it made me laugh. Here we are with what amounts to a radio camera trying to take a picture of the poor baby’s “southern hemisphere”. For some reason this is not only tolerated in our society, but encouraged. However, if someone tried to do the same thing with a camera after birth, the result would be immediate arrest and the new nickname of “pervert.”

I don’t want to see that food again until it’s solid! During the two weeks following Christmas, Ashton and Lynsey managed to take the opportunity to share a stomach bug. Ironically it is the only thing they will share. First Lynsey caught the bug and, right when she was finished with it, she graciously gave it to Ashton for a week. The particular bug had the effect of turning their booty into what amounted to be a water faucet for a week. Then, much like a fireworks grand finale’, the last effect of the bug is a violent expulsion of the last dinner (pizza in both cases) from the mouth. If that were not gross enough, Ashton was so kind as to donate his partially digested pizza on Karina’s lap. It is much funnier now, believe me. Thankfully Ashton did everything in his power to make sure following “expulsions” did not enter the toilet as that would require far too little nauseating cleanup.

Good news though. Both kids are fine now and neither mom nor dad caught the bug (knocking on wood).

Well, hopefully I’ll be able to keep everyone updated a little more frequently in the near future. I will be done with school on March 12 and will therefore have 4 hours a week to blog whereas that time is currently scheduled for a weekly nap.

It is time once again for my quarterly blog. I have been keeping too busy to post, what with all the work, school, family obligations, and sleep that I have been occupying myself with. Most recently, Karina and I have been busy with all the work that goes into buying and selling a house. 

We have begun the process of looking for a place to move to before August of next year. Ashton starts school next year and we want to be in a house and school district that we can stay in for the 12-16 years that he will be in school. Not to mention the other 4-8 years if he decides to go to college. I’m kidding of course. I don’t want to toot my son’s horn but: toot, tootle-ie toot. We are confident he will do just fine in school. 

Last month Karina and spent about a full week and a half deep cleaning or house in preparations to put it on the market. That was nowhere near being close to anything resembling the semblance of fun. Apparently over the last few months the dust bunnies have been multiplying like rabbits! It’s times like dusting when I least like to think of what dust consists of: dirt, dead skin cells and dust mites. At least I didn’t have to touch ALL of the dust because I managed to inhale most of it. 

So after a full week of scrubbing, painting, and dry heaving we had a realtor come over to inform us that it wasn’t worth selling right now. Luckily, we bought the house at the very peak of the housing boom and we’d have to cut a pretty little check to sell the house. And by “little” I mean “titanic”.  The realtor did mention that the rental market is booming and we would probably have no problem finding a renter. Karina and I are contemplating this route because we feel that, after analyzing every square inch of our house during the cleaning process, the only things missing were discarded beer bottles in the backyard and holes in the wall.  

We know renting is a risky prospect, but it is an avenue we have thought about pursuing in the past and never had the gumption to follow. Our realtor suggested that we make sure we are very comfortable with the people who will eventually be living in our home. Optimally, we’d like to rent to someone we know or someone who knows someone we know. Preferably a nice, responsible person, possibly a nun who knows someone we know. Of course I jest as religion is one of the criteria one cannot use to disqualify prospective home renters. I wonder if discriminating against anyone who is not a woman wearing a black outfit trimmed in white is ok. This would conveniently narrow the prospective renters down to nuns and Judge Judy. 

Perhaps in the meantime I can find someway of making our house more attractive to buyers. I suppose there are several options: putting in new floors and cabinets, completely landscaping the yard, or finding someway to make a famous event happen in my house. That way the realtor can say “yes, this actually is the house where a grown man broke the record for most time spent in a (take your pick) diaper/sundress/cardboard box cut into the shape of an airplane (or perhaps all at once!)” 

Of course renting/selling is only one half of the moving equation. While this is a terrible market to sell a home, it is an awesome (or in the words of Dora the Explorer: FANTASTICO) market to buy a home. Karina and I have decided that we would like to move to Rancho Sahuarita. We’ve found that living in northwest Tucson isn’t as close to

I have recently begun contemplating getting a tattoo. Some other members of my family mentioned doing it themselves, and that got me thinking. It’s difficult to decide on a tattoo however. I definitely want something special that I will be content with for life. I am afraid of being the guy sporting a giant caricature of Walter Mondale and Geraldine Ferraro, or a “Milli Vanilli –Best New Artist Grammy 1990” phrase on my back.

A few of the options I am considering or have ruled out:

Barbed wire around the bicep. Fashionable and would accentuate my 12” guns. However, I am afraid that when I am 70 and my skin is drooping, it will look like I’ve been lassoed by a bag of loose confetti. More realistically however, I am concerned that, as my biceps are sure to continue growing to near cartoonish proportions, the barbed wire design will stretch to near invisibility, rendering my $100 wasted.

Names of my family inscribed in Japanese. This is the option I am leaning towards. First of all, it would inscribe the names of the three most important people in my life on my very body: Ashton, Lynsey, and Tom Selleck. I’m kidding of course. It would be my kids and Karina. I like the look of Japanese writing and it would make others ask about its significance. A sentimental mystery, so-to-speak. I can only foresee two risks. First, having mentioned this to Karina, she immediately felt that would mean release from all wifely obligations (not like that sicko) as her name would be permanently marked on my body. Her rationale is I would not choose to leave her for any reason due to the potential shame and humiliation brought on by having her name on me. While I would never think of leaving her regardless, I also pointed out that her name would be in Japanese. Unless Takahiro Kobayashi asked what it meant, I could say it means virtually anything with noone being the wiser.

The second risk is another potential World War against

Japan. If ever came to fruition, the choice of language used to inscribe their names would be unwise. I think I’ll take that risk however. As long as I don’t have the names inscribed in Russian, I should be fine.
The Wal-Mart logo across my back. While those of you who know me immediately understand the passion with which I support Wal-Mart, I think I will avoid tattooing their name across my back. First of all, one never knows when they will be found topless surrounded by union members. A giant Wal-Mart logo would be synonymous to a giant “beat me to a bloody pulp with your fists and OSHA required safety goggles” tattoo in that situation. And second, my loyalty is not to Wal-Mart per se, but rather the low prices offered on their vast array of products and services. Were someone to ever be able to undercut Wal-Mart on my groceries, I’d shop there in a heartbeat.

So, if you have any recommendations regarding tattoos, I’d be curious to hear them. And no stealing my ideas please. I’d only be slightly bothered if one of my reader got a Wal-Mart tattoo. I would be darn near irate if they tattooed the names of my wife and kids on their arm though.

In unrelated, but important to the Varner family news, one of our two guinea pigs,

Quincy, headed off to the giant timothy hay bale in the sky. He recently grew a large tumor and, surprisingly, its hard to find many vets that operate on guinea pigs. Such operations are also not covered by insurance. We were advised by the vet to make him comfortable, and he was up until he departed. Quincy was an awesome pet. He was friendly, docile, and rarely confused my finger for a carrot. On the bright side, Toby (the other guinea pig) has a new roommate. The new addition is named Leo.
For those of you who are unfamiliar with guinea pigs, they are quite possibly the most friggin’ awesome pets on the planet. They are friendly, small, (relatively) tidy creatures who are good with our kiddos. I have also realized an unexpected benefit in a reduction in insecurity regarding the size of MY front teeth. I highly recommend them to people looking for some sort of rodent to feed and potentially hold and caress.

We recently returned from our family vacation to Monterey, California. Karina, Ashton, Lynsey and myself went out to see my sister Stacie and her hubby Adrian and to take in the scenery/activities in the northern California area. Overall, we had a great time. The scenery was beautiful, there was so much to do, and we were not all swallowed by the earth in a cataclysmic earthquake. Below are a few of the highlights:

Arrival in Oakland: Our flight from Tucson proved uneventful. We were hungry though since it was around 1 in the afternoon. Without any reservations, we found a Burger King in the vicinity of the airport to grab some lunch. After walking in the restaurant, I immediately noticed we were out of place (and judging by the looks of the other restaurant patrons, they noticed it as well). It was then that I realized I was in a Burger King in the VICINITY OF THE OAKLAND AIRPORT! Thankfully, we were able to escape the restaurant not only with our lives, but with satisfied stomachs as well. I think our safe escape had a lot to do with my quick thinking: referring to everyone as “homie” allowed me to blend in with the other patrons, not unlike a chameleon…a very out of place chameleon.

Spirit West Coast: The whole reason we chose to visit Monterey at the beginning of August was the fact that the Spirit West Coast festival was being held then. It is a huge gathering of Christian Music artists, including our family’s favorite, TobyMac. Thankfully, we were warned to bring jackets. The one thing I forgot however was sunscreen. While Karina and I managed to shield the kids from being burnt to a crisp, I wasn’t so lucky. Had it not been for the sunglasses, I might have been able to fool those around me into thinking I normally had the skin tone of a tomato. Unfortunately, since I had sunglasses on the whole day, I looked like this for the duration of the trip (See Exhibit A):

The festival was a ton of fun however and the kids loved it.

San Francisco: We decided to spend the next day in San Francisco. Personal recommendation: if you wish to spend a day in San Francisco, plan on arriving there before 4pm. I did not heed my own advice. Despite the limited time we had, we were able to do some cool stuff. We drove on Lombard Avenue (twice…apparently my GPS unit has decided that the “optimal” route should include 3 times as many stoplights as would seem logical and a top speed of 7 miles per hour, therefore it had us drive Lombard en route to any San Fran attraction), we visited Pier 39, and we took a cruise under the Golden Gate bridge and around Alcatraz. It was a blast.

It was on that cruise that I was nailed by a seagull (see Attachment 2). While I would have normally been frustrated and grossed out by having seagull excrement on my pants, I must say, I was quite impressed. The seagull managed to hit me square on the leg from a height of about 20 feet during winds of at least 20 miles per hour. Well done foe. Subsequent attempts by me to return the favor to the seagull proved unsuccessful.

While we didn’t see nearly as many of the tourist attractions in San Francisco as we would like, we did get a good taste of the “Rice a Roni” city. And I must say, while it is crowded with tourists, earthquake prone, and windy, it is at least cold.

Cannery row: On Sunday, we spent some time on Monterey’s famed “Cannery row” before hitting the Monterey Bay Aquarium. Obscure trivia: “Cannery Row” received its nickname due to the feeling of being packed like a sardine in a can with all the other tourists. I jest of course. The area was beautiful and there were many shops selling interesting trinkets.

We also discovered during our time on Cannery Row that my seagull incident was not random at all. I discovered that it was part of a coordinated, calculated attack on my family after Lynsey was hit in the head with seagull doody (see Exhibit B for photos just after the attack and after the intense bathroom cleanup effort). Additionally, Karina’s window on our rental van also received a heaping dose of digested whatever-seagulls-eat.

Monterey Bay Aquarium: After visiting Cannery Row, we met up with my family to check out the Monterey Bay Aquarium. I had heard many good reviews and seen pictures of the aquarium, but I was still not prepared for the size of the aquarium and its coolness quotient. Karina, myself, and the kids really enjoyed all the exhibits. I also learned a lot about oceanic wildlife. For example, I was privy to seeing sharks swimming gracefully and touching a sea urchin. The beauty and grace displayed by these animals have convinced me to no longer refer to attorneys as sharks or sea urchins. From now on, I will refer to unscrupulous lawyers as sea cucumbers…them beasts are ugly!!

And speaking of ugly and things that are not…. The many jellyfish on exhibit were awesome! I found the most beautiful variety to be the Warty Comb Jellyfish ironically. I’m not sure how they got their name, but I assume it was some sort of transcription error. Or perhaps the person who discovered them was named Mr. Wartholomew A. Comb.

California’s Great America: We spent two days in San Jose at the Great America theme park. This park turned out to be a great place for families as there was a wide assortment of thrilling rides and kiddie rides. And since Karina is physically unable to ride “spinny rides” (and by physically unable, I mean physically unable to keep her food down after partaking in these rides) I had the opportunity to ride virtually every kiddie ride there. I was also able to experience a few of the big rides as well. Thankfully it was towards the end of our visit, after I had ridden the large thrill rides that I noticed this sign (see addendum 2.67B).

That is right, the company I had completely entrusted the lives of myself and my children to is unable to spell the word ‘accompanied’. Pay no attention that the name of the ride that sign is found on was “Granny Sweet’s Garden”. That ride was intense. Also, pay no attention to the part of the sign saying the ride isn’t intense.

Dennis the Menace Park and paddleboats: We spent the last few hours we had in Monterey at the Dennis the Menace Park. This is a cool place for kids to play, and the parents can join in as well. This huge park includes typical children’s play equipment such as slides, swings, mazes, and an out of service locomotive. I must say, the train was a cool addition to the park. I would have loved that as a kid and, truth be told, I enjoyed exploring with my kids. As it is located in the middle of a children’s park, the train has been left in its original condition with no unnecessary additions such as safety netting or bumpers on sharp corners. Karina and I were left to wonder how many teeth have been lost on that train over the years (and by ‘lost’, I mean ‘forcefully ejected’). Lynsey found a unique way to explore the train when she decided to faceplant onto the sand from about 4 feet up. Judging by her reaction, it wasn’t as fun as she had thought it would be. Picture of my kids having fun on the locomotive below:

After the park, we paddleboated on the adjacent lake with Stacie and Adrian for a bit. The experience was very relaxing for Karina and the kids as they did not have to paddle. As attested by the boob and back sweat on my shirt, it was more of an intense workout for me since I was the lone paddler on our craft the S.S. Huff-and-Puff. It was fun though and I did achieve a minor sense of payback after Stacie showed me how rewarding it was to chase seagulls in the paddleboats. Pictorial proof that we were on a paddleboat supplied below (or at least proof that we wore orange life vests near water):

Our return trip to Oakland and flight back to Tucson were (thankfully) uneventful. Upon arrival in Tucson, Ashton was allowed to sit in the cockpit of the airplane we flew on. He really enjoyed that and we are grateful to the Southwest crew for the experience. The picture below shows the copilot instructing Ashton how to do official flight stuff. I’m pretty sure that was the point where he was demonstrating how to pull up satellite TV on the console while nobody is looking.

Karina, the kids, and I were glad to be back home to say hi to our pets and sleep in our beds. Now we have unpacking to look forward to. I think I am also going to practice my “aim” so I am ready the next time I run across a seagull.