RobbyBlog

Goodnight and Goodbye

2009-04-21T10:03:00.000-07:00

Hello friends!

I'm retiring the RobbyBlog. It was a great three years or so of writing, and I've gotten a lot out of putting my words and my life out "there" for all to see. Everyone here at the Clutterhut is happy, healthy and hale, not to worry, but all good things must end, and so must the R'Blog.

I'll be continuing to write, more professionally, I hope at:

www.athomearchitects.blogspot.com

and if you wish to join my Facebook or Twitter feeds, send me an email to architect10410@aol.com explaining who you are, and I'll give you the relevant information.

Take care!

Its been awhile.

2009-02-16T18:03:00.000-08:00

photo copyright 2008 kristina sherk

Hello there!

Just wanted to touch base. I have had a lot going on in the last few months, some of it wonderful, some of it not so much great, and some of it kind of tepid and strong, like a cuppa that's been set out too long.

The biggest news for my faithful readers is that I have joined the Facebook, and do most of my updating and picture posting there. I hope to return to the Robbyblog, as I treasure this three year writing "experiment" that has connected me with so many fabulous people.

So please, save the RSS feed or keep checking back, as we hope for some updates as life rearranges itself again, as it frequently does, and I need to describe it all in great detail to the world.

"Like too little butter spread over too much bread.." B.B.

2008-09-03T12:43:00.000-07:00

"Stand up for Cancer"

That is the new slogan that I hear all the time now. I see wonderful celebrities, sports stars and musical talents on the big screen, hear them on my XM Radio and they pop up on my Interwebs, all touting the benefits of an as-of-yet undisclosed movement, telethon, mass publick protest, I don't know...all for the benefits of, awareness of, and hopeful eradication of cancer...a terrible disease affecting, well, pretty much everyone.

My mom has a form of cancer, my cousin had a scare with the big casino, and my girlfriend recently lost her cousin to a lifelong battle with cancer. He went very, very bravely into that good night, and leaves a heroic legacy. I have to assume that standing up for cancer is a good cause.

But so is Greenpeace, who we give money to every month, so is Amnesty International, "We", "One", Smile Train, Habitat for Humantity, Sierra Club, WWF, AIDS quilt, etc. etc. etc. Not to mention Spina Bifida research! How many charities are there? 1,000? 1,000,000?

I was watching a rerun of Angel (genius, and Boreanz (sp?) goodness!) where Cordelia suffers the knowledge of ALL the souls in trouble all at once, instead of just the one immediate vision she normally gets in that show. The resulting vision headache was paralysizing, and she nearly died as a result.

Now, I am not the conduit for The Powers That Be, but I am a well to do middle class fella that wants to do some good in the world, as I feel a certain amount of responsibility for the planet and those what are in it. What is the best course of action for outreach and charitable giving? Is a small contribution to a lot of charities the right thing to do? Maybe make one of them my "cause", and put all my charity eggs in one basket? Give money to one, and time to another? its all a little overwhelming. Five dollars to a hundred charities? Five hundred dollars to one charity?

I need some time to churn this around in my mind, and then i'll get back to you. I think you can all expect some charitable donations for holiday gifts and birthday presents from now on...I hope you don't mind, but we all kind of have enough "stuff" at this point anyway, don't we? At least until I start making stuff. Homemade gifts are SO wonderful, but then again, so is that feeling of smug self satisfaction that can come with charity.

15 Months Old

2008-07-14T11:01:00.000-07:00

Such a big girl!

Whoo hoo!

2008-05-30T05:31:00.000-07:00

Well, I am in fine fettle this morning, as opposed to yesterday, where a combo platter of dental work and head shrinking therapy left me with a continental rift sized headache.

I struggled through yesterday, and called it quitsies at 8pm, right after Herself went down for nighty nights. It was still light out, which I found peaceful, and incredibly decadent. Well, I WOULD have found it thus, but Morpheus' shroud descended on me quickly, and I was out before the sun fully set.

I awoke early, did the toilette, then headed off to work....on my bicycle! I do not know why I put it off for so long, put the ride in was wonderful, easy and a full six miles. Suck on THAT, exercise plan! I decided not to check any clocks or anything, and just take my time, ease into the office, and start my day.

Well, after a stop off at the diner, of course! The Tastee Diner in Bethesda, to be specifical. My "usual" breakfast comes to me without more than my cheery greeting of "Hello", and knowing glances from the delightful waitperson Beth to the incredible culinary maestro that is Mario. Almost before I get settled in, my "two eggs over easy, home fries well done, side of bacon and rye toast with butter" is winging its delicious way to my palette. Take THAT, diet plan!

So all of this wonderful morning ritual, easy going and sublime, results in my being well rested, exercised, highly caffeineited and yes....in the office at my desk by 8 a.m.! Wow! Im amazed at myself, and even moreso at how pleasantly the universe works out if you just take it easy and let it. No getting in the way, no rushing around, no stressing over time and voila, time just worked itself out.

Of course, Im blogging instead of working, so I best get back to it!

XOXOXO

Chow Maine Lach 1994 ~ 2008

2008-05-09T14:00:00.000-07:00

Fourteen years ago I was working for a small architecture firm in Forked River, New Jersey. Our boss at the time wanted to get a new cat, and we thought it would be a good idea to get an office cat as well. Although my boss was allergic to cats, he loved them dearly, and knew that the Maine Coon cat is reportedly hypo-allergenic, and thus safe for him to handle and love. Off to the crazy cat lady to select our destiny.

She brought out a box of lily white precious kittens, about ten of them, each one cuter than the next...all preening, mewling, and looking all wide eyed with wonder at the world they were in. Perfect little kitties, everyone.

Except this runt of the litter, a ridiculous cross of Maine Coon cat and Wild Asian Leopard cat, rolling over on his back, swiping his claws at anything within his reach, and licking his own massive privates.

"This is MY cat", I exclaimed, pointing my finger at this half-blind tufted feline mess, who promptly bit me, drawing first blood. Thus was our relationship formed.

Small enough to fit in my Wyfe's outstretched hand while we made love to keep him from clawing up my backside, he would sit atop my draughting table, swatting at my pencil as I drew the homes that made up my livelihood. Eventually he came home with us, graduating from the office and the "all the donuts he could eat" policy that led him to swell up like the time lapse photo montage of Orson Welles. I will always love him as the aloof, surly and grumpy old man presence he was in our lives.

I am confident that he, in his own way he loved us as well...you could tell by the way he would stare at the wall opposite you and scream. Good bye, Chow Maine. You will be missed.

525,600 Minutes?

2008-04-16T04:28:00.000-07:00

"How do we measure, a year in a life?"

Millie is one year old today. The Goodely and I lay in bed last night, canoodling and reminiscing about where we were this time last year. Big Fat Pregnant Goodely and I anxiously awaiting the rise of the sun, heading down to the hospital with friends and family, going to get our little bundle of joy.

Hopes for the future rose above fears for all the necessary medical procedures as we welcomed Millie Isabella into the world.

This first birthday in a way marks the end of many "firsts" that Millie will have...first Christmas, first Summer, first New Year's, etc. With that in mind, there are SO many milestones to reach, so many firsts, that we are looking forward to each new day and the wonders that are brought on the braced heels of this little joy harbinger.

First time in the back pack, walking down the path by our house. I half expected Millie to begin instructing me on the ways of the Force, warning me about the dangers of the Dark Side whilst we strolled and levitated rocks. I would like to think that had Luke had Millie to pat his neck and coo and burble behind him in lieu of a short green 900 year old jedi master, he might not have entered the cave of the Dark Side and had his little mental breakdown, finishing his training and not screwing everything up for everyone.

But I digress...

Happy Birthday, Millie!!

In Which my Daughter Finds Daddy's Junk.

2008-02-22T08:06:00.001-08:00

Millie is now 10 months old, a time of almost daily growth and milestones. She crawled this past weekend. Actually crawled a few feet for the first time. Now, this doesn't mean that she is crawling as of yet, only that she has crawled, for which we were teary eyed with happiness. I reckon it is only a matter of time before she is all over the Clutterhut tearing into things, and threatening to charge headlong down the stairs. Childproofing efforts shall commence shortly.

Her lower half is developing nicely, if a bit behind schedule due to the Spina Bifida, but her upper half is right on schedule, and perhaps a little ahead. She has so far mastered the arts of "Where's Millie, There She Is!" and the esoteric "How Big is Millie? SO big!", to the delight of all. Her manual dexterity is amazing to see, and she passes objects back and forth between her hands, and puts thing inside and pull things out of other things with calm alacrity. Indeed, she is a master of all things digital.

In other news, Im a total nudist around the house. Although the Goodely Wyfe has confided in me that even though I have gotten into great shape, casual nudity is not her thing, and isn't much of a turn on for her, I still like to be nude as much as possible. To that end, on my days home with Millie, its frequently "naked time" for Daddy as well.

It isn't going to take a mensa superstar to see where I am going here, but yes, Millie discovered that Daddy has junk the other day, and that said junk is imminently grabbable. I guess it happened for the first time at the changing table, where the heights as conducive to this sort of thing, but my dearest gentle flower of a daughter reached out, grabbed "me" and gave me a wrenching that left me gasping for air and leaving me kneeling and again teary eyed while she giggled maniacally.

I have taken to wearing sleepy pants around the house now. When I can remember.

This morning, I forgot, and we were making little caves under the covers and playing peek a boo when Millie reached out and took "me" into both her hands, and tugged in different directions. She must be part cobra, because she struck faster than I think the eye could follow, giggling all the time. Daddy, of course, was NOT giggling.

I have now taken to wearing sleepy pants CONSTANTLY, and have them on under my work clothes. Mild exaggeration, but you wil allow me some leeway, yes?

So, alas, we offer up the sanctity of casual nudity upon the altar of Fatherhood. I guess it will become more special to me moving forward, as I am left to feeling "comfortable" in my casual nudity (and safe, for that matter) only when the women in my life are out of the house or safely tucked in. Actually, now that I have spelled it out, that doesn't sound all that bad...put the girls to bed, strip down and make myself a nice cuppa. Considering the eyefulls my neighbors and mailcarriers have gotten in the past, perhaps its all for the best.

The Fab Five

2008-02-06T17:18:00.000-08:00

So, it has come to my attention, well, it has been on the radar for quite some time, that as a member of a committed relationship, I get to choose my "five", that is, the five people that I get a "pass" on and am able to have illicit congress with outside of my marriage. I do not know where this concept started, but there you go. Now, as I understand it, these five are not "That hot blonde I used to work with." or even "That Pirate Lady Broad.", or even "That super hot local sports anchor." , as your five are intended to be folk what you couldn't possibly actually get. Honestly, I am pretty sure I could get that sports anchor (Ms Czarniak, if you are reading, I think you are totally hot, but alas, you are a bit too local to make the list!!) with a little bit of intentional effort.

So, the five. I am led to believe that the five are usually from Hollywood, sports and music, and are usually celebrities, so here we go, without further ado, I hereby present: The Robbyblog Five.

First off, of course, is none other than Angelina Jolie. Really, this woman has gone ahead and made everyone's "five" into everyone's "four". Its pretty much a given that Angelina is going to be on your list. I mean, what are you going to do, take the chance that she somehow shows up looking to bump uglies, and you didn't put her on the list? Silly, silly silly. So, by default, this very obvious choice is on my list. Besides being a no brainer, I also would like to confirm a long standing suspicion that I am much better in bed than Brad Pitt, so it would be lovely to put that to the test.

Number Four is the very lovely and talented Gwen Stefani. Again, not really a surprise, because, well....damn. I like this woman a lot, and think she would be a really good time in the sack. With so many different looks, so much talent, well, I think we would have a wonderful time together. 'Nuff Said, Gwen Stefani makes the list.

Number Three may be something of a surprise to some folk, but really couldn't be. Look at the dreamy eyes, the curly hair, the lovely skin and the positively adorable roles he plays, and you have none other than David Krumholtz. Would I top, would I bottom? I'm not entirely sure, but I would hate to miss the opportunity to give him a tumble, either way. Ladies and Gents, the D to the K:

Number Two just came back onto my radar after a long hiatus, the very attractive, always nude and frequently kicking zombie ass...Mila Jovovich. Goodness gracious, but this woman has some staying power. It was a LOT of fun searching picture archives to come up with a photo for the blog...goodness knows there are thousands that would do. I settled on this one, though, and I am sure I did not disappoint.

Number One....ah, sweet, darling number one. Top of the list, cream of the crop, A-Number One. Tina Fey, I think i love you. More than just her incredible sexiness, Ms Fey carries herself with an air of self deprecating humour, a quirky smile and those incredible frames. Ms Fey, Tina if you're nasty....you definitely are at the top of my list!

So, there you go, my five. I am sure that this is a "living document", subject to change, and a bit of a fluff piece for February, but a nice bit of flippery and funniness for the winter doldrums!

Hey Boo Boo, How About Them Pic-i-Nic Baskets?

2008-01-29T06:51:00.000-08:00

© 2008 Sabine Sherer

....or, the thrills of the amateur Yogi.

Millie turned months old recently, celebrating more time out of the womb than in. Our little girl is growing up quickly, but to me, it seems as if time is moving by at just the right speed regarding her, whereas everything else is speeding past me. There are friends I have not talked to or seen in the nearly full year that Millie has been out of the Goodely's uterus, and I miss all of you quite a bit. Projects that I designed are now built and occupied, and I have not witnessed them going up.

My workout regimen has suffered a bit as well, I am stil rather slim, just not as "toight" as I would prefer, but I think Spring and Summer are better times for that sort of focus in any event. Even though we took some rather adventurous photos recently, as is evidenced above, I am still looking to be in the best shape of my life at forty, which is in August, in which I will commission full on "glamour" shots of myself.

Millie is, of course, and amazing person already. I find her so wonderful to be around, and so welcoming of all of the love that I have, and as a result, I hold nothing back. I can be a bit overwhelming in my demostrations of love and affection, and frequently find myelf pulling back for fear of scaring someone off or coming off as too much of a mush or whatever. Not so with Herself. She gets the full bore, double barrelled love gun right to the chest. It's grand fun. She doesn't even flinch!

Hee hee....she has started pushing me away when I get too snuggly, which is adorable, because she gets upset if I don't immediately snuggle her right back up, so she can push me away again! Roughhousing at nine months! Huzzah!

Im just babbling today, apparently, as I have no lofty words of quasi Zen like wisdom or questions what need answering, just a photo to share and a thought to write down. On with your day!

All the World's a Stage!!!

2008-01-24T07:33:00.000-08:00

I had a discussion the other day with a lovely woman in my office, and we talked about the difference between assertiveness and serendipity. I tend to lay back and let things happen to me for better or worse, and find that by being a little lazy and passive that generally, really good things happen to me.

She asserted (hee hee) that for the most part, even when we reflect a passive nature, we are still in many, many ways shaping our futures and are subconsciously working toward that which we desire most. The Zen master in me recognizes this as living in harmony with the universe, not fighting against it or my own inner nature, and thus, what I picture as the universe providing for me is in actuality my own harmonizing with the Way Things Are.

I have a fabulous job, a wonderful wife, a gorgeous daughter and many fantastic friends and opportunities for growth, learning and pleasure. I have actively pursued very little of those "big things" that make the American Dream a reality. I do NOT have good study habits, and my work ethic is spotty at best but still manages to be productive. "Does Not Apply Himself" and "Does Not Live Up to His Potential" have always been comments on my report cards and reviews. Well, how do they know what my potential is? How do I unless it is tested? If I were truly in harmony with the universe, would I frequently lament my lack of "success" as measured in dollars and material possessions?

My latest serendipitous endeavor is that I will be in a stage production of The Hound of the Baskervilles with a local community theatre group. We open next weekend, and well, close next weekend, but its all been very exciting.

This opportunity fell into my lap, and I couldn't be happier. I didn't pursue it actively, never auditioned and have never acted before. To continue the thoughts from above, one could argue that I have been living my life in such a way as to make stage acting inevitable in my life, which I heartily concede. So many times I end up getting exactly what I want, or meet a new person that fits a necessary void in my life perfectly, and have up until now chalked all that up to chance and randomness, but now I wonder how much of it is driven by me? How much of what you attain is due to your actively pursuing it versus being as open as possible to the many treasures that life has already offered you? Do you accept them when they come? Do you celebrate all the little gifts that the universe is providing daily, or do you turn away from them because you are chasing some other goal that YOU deem is MORE important than what the universe has in mind for you? This is not intended to be a treatise in how wonderful it is to be lazy...obviously hard work, dedication and focus are very valuable and laudable traits to have. I think the key, however is to balance a solid drive, work ethic, whatever, with a healthy acceptance of ourselves and the how often the best things in life are such as we already have, or are presented to us as we are on the path to perceived glories.

Bottom line: buy tickets to my show!! ;)

One of the Best Lunches of My Life

2008-01-17T10:39:00.000-08:00

Today we enjoyed a singularly wonderful glimpse into how sublime the "Ordinary Life Well Lived" can be. We start simply, with a deep carpet of snow blanketing the entire neighborhood surrounding my office, proof positive that all encompassing beauty can be achieved effortlessly, softly, and silently, if we just sit back and let it. We spent time in the office this morning listening to all the wonderfully evocative music of the season, not necessarily Christmas or holiday music, but more of a wintry music mix.

My intended lunch date cancelled on me, which oddly enough did not put me off my game, but allowed me the necessary permission to treat myself quite well. Wrapping up in my finest Old Navy outerwear, I set forth into town.

I strolled through the huge drifting flakes of snow, feeling them gather about the fur trimming of my hood, settling on my eyelashes, making me smile, glow and shine. I smile at everyone in a mood like this, and every now and then, one of my fellow Arctic travellers smiled back, and we shared a moment. Fewer things give me joy like making a connection with another person in this world, however fleetingly. To the bookstore I went, having forgotten one of my favourites at the office, to pick up a copy of The Hound of the Baskervilles, by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. Considering that I am to play Sir Henry in a stage adaptation of the same story, I thought it best to have a passing familiarity with the original text. More on THAT story, though, upon its completion, for good or for ill.

Victorian serial novel of the peternatural in hand, I sojourned across the boulevard to a certain eatery called Mon Ami Gabi. I have had a number of wonderful lunches on their patio in warmer climes that I was anticipatory of a cozy interior experience, and I was not disappointed. Well, a little, as they had no tables adjacent to the windows such that I could take in the full of winter's joy while I dined, but I was seated in such a way as I could see ALL of the restaurant, and all of the windows.

The gentleman who waited on me...waited on me, and interesting turn of phrase. Perhaps it was the Sherlock Holmesian influence, but I found myself investigating the mundane with a scrutiny heretofore reserved for the intricate and the obscure. This gentleman and I entered into a contract, then and there. Without knowing his particular remuneration, he agreed to wait on me, to bring me water, food and drinks, and I agreed on some level to not ask too much which would be deemed inappropriate, and to treat him civilly and cordially. This man waited on me, I purchased an hour of his time that he would devote to me....Lorraine's youngest son, am I deserved of this level of attention? Perhaps not, but who better?

Graciousness was displayed on both sides of said contract, a smile from me, a congratulatory nod of approval upon my selection of wines from him, a respectful distance and pacing by the two of us to show no hurry, that we were both to enjoy this particular dining experience.

Enjoy it we did! I found myself bypassing all the typical lunch specials and settled into having a wonderful steak with drawn butter, frites and a glass of Merlot. The steak was prepared excellently, difficult to do with a cut so thin, how they managed my "warm, pink center" I have no idea, but there it was. I ate, no, I savoured every morsel.

I thought of raising my glass of fine red wine and proposing a toast to the small crowd before me:

"My dear men and women here assembled, I offer this toast as a way of acknowledging each and every one of you that has braved the weather and sought not just fine food, but a warm welcoming environment and the companionship of others. I salute you in this passing moment of camaraderie asd I salute the passing moment of pale beauty that is even now covering all of our surrounding vista. Cheers, be merry, and savour the moment!"

A bit long winded, yes, but I had a lot to say.

The company of Holmes and Watson only heightened my experience at the dining table that certainly did not end with each butter drenched morsel. With an eye to a renewed leisurely pace, I requested a piece of flourless chocolate cake, unadored and bare before me without the trappings of chocolate sauce or whipped cream. A bitter espresso was its only accompaniment, and it was a warm and rich slice of nirvana on earth.

Finally, with only a briefest tinge of remorse, the meal was concluded. Our contract through with the signing of my name, I thought I noticed in the man that was my servant no longer, the connection that I looked for, that a job was well done by everyone involved, and that we would remember each other, if only for a bit, on this snowy January day. I tipped him generously, and made a point of telling him that I had had very few better dining experiences in my life, to which he responded that it was a pleasure for him as well.

Satisfied, sated, I braved, no...I embraced the wintry world once more, back to the office, to the "real world" as it was described to me, joyous and celebratory. The real world for me is coloured most times in a way I have just described for you. Seeing the snow, purchasing a book, having a (admittedly VERY NICE) mid week lunch, all of this strikes my heart and makes me buoyant. THAT is the secret to the ordinary life well lived. Celebrate your life, in little ways, and in the grandest ways. You are worth every bit of your own attention. There is, in fact, no one MORE worth your attentions.

Bon Apetit!

Scars and All

2007-12-13T04:51:00.000-08:00

photo by John Harrington

When they told me my daughter (and I knew she was a girl) had a big hole in her spine, I freaked out. I was terrified & scared, I doubted and questioned whether we could keep her, if I was capable of being a good father to her. Above all else, I was ashamed of what I was feeling, and wanted to vanish from it all.

Whatever perfect image of beauty, grace, function and ability that I previously carried with me have all been changed, altered, evolved and grown into an image that you see before you now. This baby, this whole human being, will know more, be more, and do more than I ever thought possible as she moves into the future. Her beauty is so bloody apparent to me, it is a palpable force that surrounds her, and makes my heart catch in my throat, which is probably a good thing, as once she takes my breath away, there needs be something in my esophagus.

If I know my daughter, and I am pretty sure I do, she is going to completely own everything about her, everything from being a little vain about how beautiful her eyes are, to showing off the ridge of her shunt and the web of scars that cross her lower back. I know that as she gets older, and her back gets wider, the scars that appear there will stay the same size, and thus be smaller by comparison, but it doesn't matter.

Millie, if this blog is still around when you are older, know this: I have always found you to be the most beautiful creation I have ever beheld. From the moments when they brought you into the world, and from every moment hence, you have become more and more lovely. When I put you to bed, fighting the urge to crawl into your crib every night, I go to sleep with the knowledge that the next day you will grace me with your smile, your warmth and your love that is unfettered by words. Thank you Millie, thank you so much.

Daddy loves you.

Stop Smart, Stop "F" Stop.

2007-12-11T07:08:00.000-08:00

or...."In Praise of Professional Photography"

The Goodely Wyfe is a professional photographer, so is her boss and a number of our good friends. Also included in our good friends are a number of amateur photographers, and then there are folks like me, those what own cameras.

I have always understood on some level that anything done at a professional level is going to be far and away better than things done at the amateur level. It makes a lot of sense, kind of a "no brainer". Well, I must have been less of brain than the Scarecrow of Oz, because it wasn't until I myself was professionally photographed that I really grokked the entire idea.

We went as a family to the Goodely's boss's studio where we set up backdrops, all sorts of crazy illuminaition devices and I chatted with two delightful young ladies whilst the Goodely and John ooh'd and ahh'd over all the new camera equipment that came in. I heard things like "Oh, that's the D something or other" and "...and that is at 1600!" which I am guessing is photolingus for describing nifty new toys.

"We went as a family..."..how cool is that? I don't think I've written that before. I like the way it looks.

I ALSO liked the way the Goodely, Millie and I looked by the time we were done. The prcoess was smooth, easy and wonderful. John gave us small promptings that made a huge difference when we were looking at the images, subtle small changes that I would not have thought of, but then again, why would I? He is the fiddler, I am dancing to his tune. Millie smiled every now and then, cuddled and looked away at others, but John was super patient and we ended up with about sixty shots that will be coming our way. One is here for your perusal:

photo by John Harrington

I urge you, please go and have yourself and those you love professionally photographed. This image is one that I imagine I will treasure forever.

Home for the Holidays

2007-12-03T08:59:00.000-08:00

This may very well be Millie's first Piggy Back Ride! Hit the calendar!

I believe this is quite the oddity for the family, but we are staying home for the holidays. We celebrated Thanksgiving with a quiet affair at home, and Christmas will be celebrated likewise. We have many local parties and gatherings to attend, but the holidays, they will be rather low key. Typically we travel up to New Jersey to see La Familia, but it will just be too much. My parents will be staying with us for Christmas, which will be delightful.

I like it. Hopefully, I will be able to create the holiday gifts that I want this year, something crafty and hopefully blessedly low cost. In general, I don't like to do what I am "supposed" to do, and thus always fight buying presents around the holidays, preferring instead to buy everyday gifts and do little kindnesses all the time.

I hear that men in general are very difficult gift receivers, and I may very well fall into that category. Giving gifts, I'm also pretty awful at, I think, as I tend to get people what I want them to have, not necessarily what I think they will like.

"What??!!? You don't own a copy of Batman: Year One? Off to the store I go!"

To that end, I also am reticent to tell people what I "want" for Christmas or my birthday or whatever. Besides being on the receiving end of some very enthusiastic oral sex, there isn't much else that I can name that I "want". I like to use gift receiving time as that chance to gauge how people perceive me. Some people still, after many years, don't seem to "get" me at all, and some folk surprise me by getting me amazing gifts that I never would have thought of before. At the end of the day, I'm a VERY easy person to give gifts to, just give me a little something from your life, or the life that we have shared together, however minimally or completely that may be.

Or heck, don't get me anything this year, and just smile at me, give me a hug or whatever else come to mind. Who knows, maybe you will get a piggy back ride in return!

Good for the Soul

2007-11-30T06:34:00.000-08:00

First, who needs a hug?

This kid gives some top notch snuggles.

Yesterday I had a chance to present one of my projects before a board of commissioners and an audience of about fifty people. I have been doing this kind of thing since before there was any gray in my beard, but I still get shaky and nervous when I do it. Luckily, I can do all this under the guise of being calm, cool and collected. Luckily still is when the project is one that I have strong feelings about, and really believe in.

Being an architect in one of the most affluent counties in the United States, my job typically entails making the lives of rich people better. That is all well and good, I have seldom begrudged anyone their money, and have only had brief episodes of jealousy about material things.

Side Note: When I DO get jealous of material things, I get REALLY jealous of them, and tend to beat myself up a lot because I do not have them. Then again, I haven't coveted much since the Lexapro kicked in, so maybe that's helping there as well.

Side Side Note: I think there is more than a bit of a placebo effect inherent in the Lexapro. I find myself thinking "Oh, that doesn't bother me, i'm on medication!", which is pretty funny.

Back on track: Anyway, the project that I was presenting was actually a WONDERFUL project that gives back to underprivelaged individuals on the small scale, and to society as a whole on the macro. I won't go into details, as since I don't have much discretionary powers, that if I feel I should be discrete about something, its usually for a good reason. Trust me on this, its a great project, decently designed, and rewarding for the community.

We were presenting to gain the support of local government to allow the use of the project in the zone we were building in. There are SO many rules and regulations governing building simple structures that they frequently make my head spin. One can get so bogged down in the numbers, the lawyers, the government and such, that at the end of the day, one could lose sight of the project itself, as it is just boiled down to base components, and there is very little groove left to it.

There was a lot of opposition to the project, which really surprised me. In the face of ALL of the evidence to the contrary, there was a lot of fear in the neighborhood about having this project "In My Backyard". This kind of attitude has always shocked me. I couldn't imagine what kind of project would have to be proposed in my neighborhood that would get me to get off my couch and rally forces to opoose it, but this project certainly was not the case.

In any event, the opposition could not refute anything that we were doing legally, that is, we hired a team of highly paid and accomplished experts to handle every aspect of the development, doing many parts of the project above and beyond the standards of practice commonly seen. Because the opposition could not attack the facts of the project, they came after the intangibles, and more specifically, the architecture.

"Its too big, it doesnt fit in the neighborhood, its ugly, its going to ruin everything!"

..and so on. Well, thank goodness I either have no ego, or ego enough to not give too much credence to these kinds of outraged attacks on my skills as an architect and as a designer. As all of the technical staff on the project, those that actually KNOW a lot more about the project than I sat uncalled upon, it was up to me to chat and talk about the aesthetics and the intangibles. Since our brilliance was understood, it was just up to our bullshit, I suppose.

We ended up getting our approvals unanimously by the commission, and afterwards there was a lot of handshaking, hugging, and maybe even a few tears. Yesterday I got to hug my daughter and play a role in bringing someone's dream of a better future into reality.

Yesterday was a good day.

There has been a LOT going on...

2007-11-28T08:30:00.000-08:00

Hello faithful readers, and a special hello to my Father in Law, or PopPop as he may become known around the Clutterhut, as it is his steadfast refusal to let me stop writing that brings me back to y'all today.

Our daughter is over seven months old now, and here is your picture for today:

We are fresh from the tub, and feeling mellow and snuggly.

Onward to business, Christian Soldiers. In the spirit of full disclosure, or as much disclosure as I think the Goodely is comfortable with, I tell you today that I am currently on anti-depressants. For a lot of you, and now for me, you might look at a statement like that and say "Wow, good for him!" or shrug and wonder why this is significant enough for a blog post. Well, to the latter I say that I have blogged about my wang, videogames and dopey pop culture enough that pretty much anything under the Goddesses umbrella ('ella 'ella 'ella..hey hey hey) is significant enough for me to warrant a post, and to the former, I say that this was a HUGE decision on my part, and I am very proud of myself for having taken it.

I guess you could say that I have "battled" depression and anxiety all my life, but not all depression and anxiety is crippling or dramatic. Sometimes depression can be small and insidious, like having Salacious Crumb as a pet when you really wanted a kitty. My depression has always been problematic but maintainable and manageable.

I have seen many therapists throughout my life, starting in college and peppered throughout my adult life. Some have been helpful, some have been awful, but overall the experiences have been positive. The biggest problem with therapy and I guess medication is that just when you really need it is when you are least likely to seek it out, especially when you are up against scheduling, insurance companies and other red tape. If I am feeling too blue to brush my teeth or to even touch myself (wang post, for the win!), the odds of me being able to navigate a voice mail system effectively to confess my depression to a total clinical stranger over a phone and beg them to "allow" me to seek help...well, its not very helpful, now is it?

Adding to this the overwhelming lessons handed down from father to son in my tribe that "We Don't Go to Doctors", and the idea that most brain drugs are hit or miss with potential for crazy side effects, and you have mixed for me a cocktail of "No thanks, I will deal with this on my own!" , served chilled with a light garnish of denial.

Luckily, the convergence of forces lately came to the fore where I had a doctor's appointment scheduled, a wonderful nurse practitioner that I was seeing for other issues, and unluckily, had a really weird "episode" at the Clutterhut that thrust my mental problems to the fore and allowed for the addressing of them to be done fairly casually and when I was feeling good. We prescribed Lexapro for me, and sent me on my merry. I am still in the market for a therapist, remind me one day to tell you about my most recent failed attempt to see someone, but the drug seems to be working well.

If you Google Lexapro, you will see a list of VERY scary side effects. Hair loss, laziness, suicidal tendencies, weight gain, sexual side effects including the inability to achieve orgasm....wait...what the hell? Is this an antidepressant, or some kind of conspiracy to turn all men into this guy:

Sure, he seems like he is having fun, but what is that last thing? Oh right....you can't drink alcohol when on Lexapro!

...

"Mr RobbyBlog? Hello? I think he's coming around."

...

Okay, okay, apparently its not recommended that you drink while on Lexapro, but its not going to kill you or put you into a coma. Thank goodness, as they just built a new bar down the block from my office, and the holidays are upon us.

Initial Prohibitionist shock aside, I have been on the drug for a month and a half, and it has really kicked the ass out of my lows, and has left me my highs, which is great. I find myself with more confidence, happier and thank the above mentioned all encompassing Goddess, not yet prone to any of those side effects. My desire and my wang are still performing quite well, as I am sure all y'all were primarily concerned.

So there you go PopPop, a little news from the Robbyblog, and hopefully something that might help anyone out there on a similar journey. Whatever depression or anxiety you might be feeling, please try to remember that it is a temporary thing. Maybe write down on a sticky to get help to remind you from when you have those dark periods. A very wise and hot friend of mine said that the trifecta of therapy, medication and the support of family and friends makes for a wonderful panacea for mental health problems, and I concur whole heartedly....but then again, I have always had a tough time disagreeing with hot women.

Standing On Stage With The Mic' In My Hand.

2007-10-30T04:41:00.000-07:00

It has been quite some time since I have posted, and for that I do not apologize. I had been concerned of late that the ole Robbyblog was degenerating into nothing more than a photo dump for pictures of the most beautiful childe ever, and that I was just going to be repeating themes after a little over two years of blogging. Does anybody really care about my continued weight loss, trips to the renaissance faire, my relationships and my career? Do I even care enough about these events to re-hash them in written format for web digestion? Has the Robbyblog just become the ongoing version of those awful "family bulletins" that are included in holiday greeting cards, or is it really something more?

So, like my heros of rap, Run DMC, who made their career not out of busting caps in gangstas or slapping bitches and hos, but who rapped about rapping, I sit before you now in the most circular and perhaps futile effort of the blogging world, I am blogging about blogging. Is this really what it has come to? Perhaps it is time to retire the blog, and see if I can manage to stay in touch with people by actually talking to them or at the very least sending them personal electronic correspondence. Maybe not. I am not sure.

I have "met" new and interesting people from blogging, but not anybody I am likely to meet or interact with apart from the blogosphere. Are these new and interesting people actually my friends? Are they virtual friends? Is that really air I'm breathing?

Robbyblog, I hear the bell tolling for thee. For now, a picture of Millie to keep you company until I can decide if there is something "worth" writing about tomorrow.

I'd like to talk about other kids...

2007-09-24T05:28:00.000-07:00

As tough as it may be, I will let Millie take the back burner, and move up my little cousins Sara and Nicole to the spotlight, or the front burner, or the bun warmer of my heart....whatever.

My friend from college Marc married my cousin Amy and they have two lovely little girls that are near and dear to my heart. This weekend pass'd, they all came down with Jeff and Maddie to the Renaissance Faire. This was a very different experience than the previous weekend, where we went bug nutty on booze and wenches, but no less enjoyable!

Sara, 8 and Nicole (Nickle Pickle) at 6 are most likely the perfect age for Faire. They had a wonderful time, and we all dressed like Pirates, with me being Captain Robby, Sara as Powder Monkey Karl, and Nicole as Chef Monkey Karl, but with an "N". All of this came up before we even left the house. The rest of the day found us engaging in the same tomfoolery, but with a larger audience!

Powder Monkey Karl, all up in her cups.

Chef Monkey Karl, with an N.

A HUGE tip of the hat to Marc and Amy. Your little girls are amazing, some of the sweetest people I have ever met, and a joy to be around. You are wonderful parents, and I look forward to seeing you all again soon. I know the Goodley Wyfe had a great time, and Millie is very lucky to have such wonderful cousins to play with!

Never take Your Baby Skiing!

2007-09-17T10:32:00.000-07:00

You would like to think someone would have told us. Well, the Goodley and I took an early vacation out to Vail, and encouraged Millie into skiing for the first time. I guess "skiing" is a loose term, as basically Millie just got rolled down the black diamond trail to the above photographed disastrous results. Stock Car Racing will be next, if the slacker can get out of those casts in time for the qualifiers.

Okay, simply enough, Millie has some casts for a few weeks that are designed to straighten out her ankles a bit. We thought they were going to be splints, but the splints might cause friction sores on her legs, and darn it, Emmett, I hate those, even worse than bone bruises!

"She'll Definitely Walk"

2007-09-05T07:34:00.001-07:00

Yep, that is what we heard yesterday at Spina Bifida Clinic. Spina Bifida Clinic is a service organized through Children's Hospital in Washington DC. What they do is arrange for all the doctors associated with Spina Bifida patients to see you on the same day, so you do not have to schedule a bunch of appointments all over the place.

Neurosurgeons, dietitians, orthopedic specialists, urologist, butchers, bakers, candlestick makers all come in and see our little Millie and do evaluations and schedule tests. She totally holds court and smiles at everyone.

"She'll Definitely Walk"

Again, it just sank in this morning, and made me tear up a a bit and go get a hug from our HR director. Millie will walk. She will most likely wear little ankle braces or some other accessories, but she will be able to walk, which is a small miracle, again, considering the location and "openness" of her lesion.

They are going to be looking more closely at her bowel and bladder issues, but for now, lets focus on some positives.

"She'll Definitely Walk"

:)

A Letter Not to Complain, but as a Friend:

2007-08-29T08:28:00.000-07:00

A letter I sent to the fine folks at Jay & Silent Bob's Secret Stash:

To whom it may concern, as it concerns me greatly!

First, let me start by disclaiming the bulk of this missive with the facts that not only am I a huge fan of Kevin Smith's movies, but I also kind of like the man himself. I read his blog, and follow his successes and trials as I do a good friend. I am also a late thirties displaced Jersey Boy trying to make good in the world, facing my own successes and trials.

One such trial that Mr. Smith (can I call him Kevin?) and I face or have faced is in our weight. I had gained a significant amount of weight since my marriage, and have worked very hard, as Kevin is working hard now, to lose a remarkable amount of that weight. I am so happy for where I am now, and have good folk around to remind me that I look good and that the weight loss was worth it.

Imagine my surprise then when I see all of my Kevin Smith collectibles suffering from, well, I can only call them weight issues. My collectors item black and white Silent Bob Clerks inaction figure slowly succumbed to its highly disproportionate weight to ankle ratio, to the point where I had to fashion braces made of paperclips to keep him upright!

I had thought this design flaw was simply a result from early and untested production issues, but in a recent trip to the Red Bank Secret Stash, I purchased not only (among other things) the slimmer version of Kevin in his Red Bank exclusive garb, but also the Silent Bob Bobble head. Not three days after purchase, Kevin's miniature effigy ankles bent such that his svelte form had no recourse but to hurl itself off of my display shelf, ending another series of mockery by the production staff. The bobble head? Ankles were fine, but the bulk of this figure has since driven its feet into the hollow base to the extent that the leaning form of our dearest iconic character results in a head that no longer bobbles, but simple hangs listlessly from side to side as if to say "Why me? Why must the modeling staff denigrate me so?"

I ask for no rebates or replacements, View Askew folks. I only ask as a former heavy guy myself to give your figurehead a bit more consideration, and make his toys such that they can stand on their own two feet, ankles braced, and ready to take on the world.

Humbly submitted,

Robert

The Rumors of the Death of Robbyblog....

2007-08-16T03:38:00.000-07:00

Have been greatly exaggerated.

Hello loyal if miniature fan base! I am back, and in the finest fettle. Let me get a picture of my now FOUR MONTH OLD baby Millie up quickly to keep you maniacs at bay:

I think with a little resizing, she will make for a lovely desktop. Give it a whirl.

Lets try to get some news up here then, to play some catch up, then hopefully I can start posting the nonsense that you are used to.

1. Millie: She is doing very, very well. She laughs all the time, and is sleeping in her own crib, in her own nursery. It is adorable, but makes the Goodely Wyfe a bit sad, which is only normal. Millie has a bunch of physical therapy stuff she still needs to do all the time, but its fun, stretchy and doesn't seem to bother her too much.

2. The Goodely: This incredibly amazing woman is dealing with her own version of my fractious views of things, trying to discover what it means to be mother, wyfe, career woman, friend and family member all at once. September marks the end of our backup savings for her to be home, so it is off to some kind of work soon. She may start shooting weddings again, as this would involve more work on the weekends when I can watch Millie, but that also means the two of us will have a tough row to hoe getting good face time together. I am sure we will work something out, of course, as we always do, as long as this round of working things out does not involve thousands of dollars in psychotherapy.

3. Working Out: I am doing very well staying on track to be able to say arbitrarily "I am forty years old, and in the best shape of my life". I am thirty nine now, if you want to keep track, having celebrated my birthday on 08/08. Next year, of course, my birthday will be 08/08/08, again, random numbers fun!

I am in the gym every day now, as it turns out, doing cardio and weight training on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, and taking a yoga class on Tuesday, Thursday and when I am around, Saturday. Well, I WILL be taking the yoga, I had my first class a few days ago, and loved it, so I hope it lasts.

All of this working out takes its toll in other ways, so to get that balance back, I steal hours away from my day in the mornings, and get up every day at five. It is insane, I know, but I love those early morning hours so much, and miss them terribly when I sleep through them. I wonder if Millie and the gang will let me sleep in on Sundays? That would be nice, if you are listening.

Okay, I think I will try to get more frequent postings going on...I still owe you the Grandma Millie story, and the "Was Robert Always Beautiful" treatise. Let's see if we can get those done, alright?

For the baby that has everything.

2007-07-30T04:20:00.000-07:00

There is a lot going on in my life right now, but apparently, blogging is not one of them. Until I get caught up, here are a few pictures of Miss Millie, wearing some fool's chain that she snatched at the rap show.

foh shizzle, Miss Millizzle.

Three Months Old!

2007-07-16T07:34:00.000-07:00

Hello!

Millie Isabella turns three months old today. She is doing quite well, she can find her toes, and is turning into quite a chatterbox.

Health wise, the shunt seems to be working just fine, and the physical therapist has us doing some more focused stretching exercises to torque her feet into the correct position (they are rotated kinda "up and in", if that makes any sense) and to get her head straightened out (she kinda favours the side with the shunt now). I have to say, i am very glad for the help we are getting. A lot of this stuff I never would have picked up on without someone helping out.

Millie is definitely going to be a very popular girl, as everyone we know seems to be having boys right now. Certainly her family is off limits, but the boy next door, the two boys next to next store and even the "King of the Universe" that I met this Friday will certainly be trying to make this little darling his Queen. Ha, now that I think of it, with all these boys around, she will most likely go gay. That will show them all!

Hetero or not, she stands to be quite the heart breaker. After all, she already has Mommy and Daddy wrapped up tight. Then again, maybe not SO tight, as to celebrate her three month birthday this weekend, we left her! Yep, Parents of the Year left her with a total (but professional) stranger to have dinner, drinks and a little of that Harry Potter movie. It was wonderful to date the Goodely again. I hope we can do some more of that, and soon.

I cannot post pictures for some reason, so I will try again later. :)

Paris Hilton Gay Porn

2007-07-12T04:42:00.000-07:00

Please don't pay much attention to the title, I am just trying to get more traffic to the RobbyBlog! ;) I am not saying those are MY most frequently entered search keywords, but I am led to understand they are fairly popular.

I am having a lovely little life over here. So many small factors all rolling down the snowy hill of bliss leading to an immense avalanche of glorious joy. Starting with my Millie, ending with my Millie.

As I said, I am back in the gym. The discipline of getting up early and the resulting endorphin release sets me up to be in fine fettle for the rest of the day. I actually came in here singing "What the World Needs Now". How many people can say that about their work experience.

Speaking of my work experience, I am becoming more and more "into" being an architect. Don't tell the bosses, but I have really been dialing it in for the last few to six months. My dialing is better than average, don't get me wrong, but recently I have been much more desirous of doing good work and realizing how wonderful it is to have the opportunity to design buildings, and what a groovy job that is. I can see again why the parents of the few girls what were kind enough to take me home to meet them were impressed when I told them what I was studying in school. "Oh..an architect...very nice...please, feel free to savage ".

After work, of course, was home. The Goodley's Father, Millie's PopPop was over again, as he is every week, being a remarkable help around the house. Because I can be kind of a jerk, I initially resented the idea that he was there, taking it as a slight that I needed help, and that I couldn't take care of my own household and family. You know what? It isn't always about me, oddly enough. The Goodely's dad is very handy, very helpful, and is possessed of an almost maniacal amount of energy that you don't see in men half his age...though is dwarfed by the size of his heart. I would be a fool, a knave and a boor to deny him the opportunity to spend time with a few generations of women in his family in the grandest notion, and to mow my lawn in the most trivial.

Well, I made a lovely dinner for us, and we sat around and chatted. We had the FIOS television installed yesterday, so for the first time we have "cable" television is a dozen years or so. I watched a lovely documentary on the Chrysler Building on the History Channel, then we watched the Wedding Singer. Anywho, we chatted about the install, the number of channels, and I even talked about my day at work. Hmm...maybe it is all about me anyway.

Oh no, I suppose its not, because it is all about Millie. She is amazing, simply amazing, even when she is wearing the cranky fusspants that she had on last night. I could go on, but it would jut be a list of superlatives that would read like a thesaurus entry for "sublime". Lets just say she's great.

I cuddled up with the Goodely last night, and we made "the spoons" for a little while before my somnolent twitchings made it impossible for her to go to sleep. I prefer to think of it as cute....if you were married to me for nine years, you might have had about enough of it.

So there was a bit of my ordinary day. I suppose for the sake of truth in advertising, I must provide not only this picture:

But this link to the "gay porn", the July 12th entry, which is actually an NYPD rated "R" picture of yours truly :) yep...it's all about me!

Back from Vacation!

2007-07-10T18:33:00.001-07:00

Well, we are back from our fourth of July week and weekend adventure. Okay, so only the ladies went away for the week, and Papa Bear Lach stayed at home to keep the appropriately named fires burning.

It was very difficult being without my girls, and I thank all those that took turns playing the home version of "Someone Babysit My Husband." I didn't realize it until just this evening after my ladies were here to stay that I really didn't like being here without them, and LOVE being here with them. Perhaps I am the sweetest man in the world, perhaps I am trying to rationalize my going out every night that they were away. I leave the judging to all of those what hath ne'er committed a sin and all that.

In other news, I am back in the gym, full time. I go every day now, awaking at 5am to do my workout. I am happy to say that even though I got a bit softer during the months between Millie's birth and now, I am still dancing about in the 160s, poundswise, which tells me all that Weight Watcher malarky about it being a way of life and not a diet is pretty spot on. I don't think I will be losing any more weight, but I would like to move some of it back up from my waist to my chest and shoulders. So far, so good, and we can put the abdominal muscle visibiity level back to "slightly" after dropping to "barely" and even "rumored" in the last few months.

We have lots of photos coming from The Goodely and the Millie (she needs a nickname, eh?) soon. I will say that to our credit, we are doing a good job of sending our photos off to the ye olde print shoppe right away. I refuse to not have pictures of my Wyfe and Chylde (and of me! yay!) in case of the inevitable hard drive failure. So many people I know have thousands of pictures, but not one actual photograph. Having recently gone through the purging of the Clutterhut (I must be careful with my nicknaming, I can't shake this one) and finding and saving all the old photos we have, I cannot tell you how wonderful and magickal it is to have them. Print, I urge you, print like the wind!

Oh, I also took my cell phone for a swim in the ocean...more on that (moron, not by coincidence...snoogans) after these messages...

Oh, and the fourth was our ninth wedding anniversary...more to do with that story...again, after a few local announcements, and your weather on the nines...

Not Exactly Whiskers on Kittens...

2007-06-26T05:23:00.000-07:00

..but I have recently been talking with a lovely and emerging good friend about my favorites. I confessed that I do not have many favorites of anything, ice cream flavours, movies, underwear preferences, books, food, etc. I frequently latch (pun!) onto whatever happens to be in front of me, and run with it to its logical or illogical conclusion. On the days that I am feeling unhealthy and dour, I consider myself scattered and unfocused, but since today is not that day, I consider myself capable of finding joy all around, willing to try new things, and adventurous.

Now, having disclaimed my lack of favorites, I would like to discuss one of my favorite books. Not necessarily my favorite story (though it is a cracker jack tale), but my absolute favorite tome that I own.

Harken back if you will with me, and take a peek all Ebeneezer style to a little boy named Robbyblog in the 5th grade. Ms T-- is teaching, and we are giving our book reports. I was doodling, as usual, and not paying any attention, drawing X-Wings and Tie Fighters locked in their epic struggle that continues on papers that fall under my pen to this very day. Some delightful raven haired little girl is up at the front of the class, and we barely listen as her book report really is just a feat of memorization, and she manages to rattle off all the dwarves' names in one big breath, ending of course, with Thorin Oakenshield.

She walks past our desk, and is she a little upset that I wasn't paying attention? No, that is just me now, projecting flirtation where there really wasn't any. I do remember, however, that some tiny bit of awareness managed to permeate my ray shielding, and that she was talking about a book that involved goblins, dragons, dwarves and elves, and that this might be something I could be interested in. I turned around (she sat directly behind me) and started chatting with her about her book. I don't know why we had downtime right then, but for some reason, I not only had time to talk to her, but I also absentmindedly doodled on the book itself, filling in the "O" and the fat parts of the "B"s with swirls and other designs. Yes, I know, I was defacing a book, me, childe of the town librarian, but I was really nervous, and this gave me something to do and keep me conversating. Back off a little, and give our hero some slack on the vandalism charge, and we can move the story along, okay?

Alright, thanks for quelling your outrage. As it turns out, this book was none other than The Hobbit, by our beloved J.R.R. Tolkien, THE hands down gateway drug to everything fantasy related. I had no idea, so much so that although I meant to get my mommy to bring it home from the library once the dark haired girl brought it back, I never followed through, and promptly forgot about it for years.

Those years were not idle, and that slight opening of the door to that fantasy world was soon blown wide open. We played Dungeons and Dragons, read all sorts of fantasy books, including The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings, and I developed into the uber-dork that now ends this very sentence. Those were delightful years, coming home from school, spending a few hours in the library drawing, reading and creating our fantasy worlds, then walking our mom home. Fleeting years, to be true, only to be savoured now, like the remembrance of fine wines.

A quick fast forward, if you would indulge me. After middle school, we went by bus to the high school, and spent almost no time in the local library. I miss the smell of the books, the bones of the fossil in the well in the atrium, and the time spent among the stacks. It wasn't until the end of my first year of college that I returned to the Lincoln Park Public Library. I was amazed at how small it looked, the way the whole world, and especially your home town looks the first time you return from the "wide world" of college. I walked those aisles, pulled down some favorites, strolled the children's section, and checked out the used book sale tables.

As I write this, I am getting that tingly feeling I get before I cry from emotion, but there on the table of books for sale, books that the library was trying to get rid of, for $.25, was the very green fabric covered copy of The Hobbit that I encountered all those years before. I reverently lifted the book up, deeply inhaled the scent of old paper, ran my hand over the cover, the spine that had been torn and repaired many times, caressed the embossed letters, inexpertly filled in with childish doodled designs. I wanted to shout in triumph, an exultation of glee and joy, but had to keep it all in, the way you had to keep quiet while making love in your parent's house, that joy and pleasure somehow heightened further by the inability to express it fully. I bought this treasure immediately, and took myself outside to the "reading tree" as we called it as children, sat and devoured the book as the sun was setting, as if I were lounging in the waning light with an estranged best friend, only to realize that he or she missed you just as much as you missed them, even if neither one of you knew it. I imagine that we must have looked not quite unlike the opening scene of the Fellowship of the Ring movie, where Frodo sits beneath a tree reading in the Shire. Our re acquaintance was just as beautiful.

That very copy has been with me ever since. I have read the story therein to my college friends outside during a meteor swarm, have lent it (guardedly) to friends and lovers, and recently, read the story to my darling daughter Millie as she lay in the NeoNatal Intensive Care Unit. You ask me if I have any favorites, and now I can confidently say "Yes, yes I do."

A Synergy of Systems

2007-06-13T07:04:00.001-07:00

Last night, I had the opportunity to weave many aspects of my life together into one lovely package. After work, I went with "other Robert (the O.R.)" to his house to play "My Two Dads". His own wyfe can be quite the world traveller, and this leaves the O.R. alone with his five year old daughter and two year old son from time to time. As one that has solicited DadAid in the past, I felt it was my duty, honour and pleasure to heed the call to partner up for the evening.

I love going over there. The children afford me celebrity status, and it is good "pay it forward" practice to see how folks handle older children. the O.R. may not know it, but he is the model of fatherhod that I aspire to.

The night really drove home the idea of "ordinary lives well lived". In fact, we had a bit of discourse about that self same fact. The odds that either one of us is going to fundamentally change the world for the better, that is, curing cancer or eradicating some huge social ill, are pretty slim (not compleatly nil, of course) but at the same time, we have rich and rewarding lives, like multifaceted jewels in their own right.

So many of those facets came out last night too....we did basic dad stuff, shopping, grilling, bathed and put the kids to bed, but then our own wonderful chic geekiness came to the fore. We hit his new and very well stocked bar, discovering the joy that is a well mixed cocktail, in this case, the Havana Sidecar. I am anxiously awaiting the discovery of the rest of the motorcycle, as this drink was like sunshine in a glass. I hope I have the stones to order one the next time I am out on the town.

We had cocktails, then played silly card games, the kind that I spent SO much time and money playing a few years ago, and most of which I recently (with a bit of trepidation) packed up into the attic believing that that era of my life was over.

Well, there it all was. Robert, family man and Rookie Dad, hanging out and playing silly games mere moments from reading fairy story books to children and helping to load the dishwasher. It was a lovely integration, and I thank the O.R. for hosting and giving me a forum to express all this stuff.

Going home was tough, but only because I realized that a whole day had passed where I did not hold my own daughter. It was around 11pm when I got home, and I didn't want to disturb her. Well, I WANTED to, but I didn't, and did a few chores and iPod updates, then went to bed. This morning, Millie and I had some quick cuddles, and Millie was all smiles for her Daddy, so that set a nice tone to the morning. She either didn't know or didn't mind that I was cheating onher with an older woman, as long as I came home to her. Speaking of which, I want to go home RIGHT NOW to her!

Cursed gainful employment!

m17713 0f b0rg

2007-06-05T16:57:00.001-07:00

Designated 1 of 3, Unimatrix 8008135.

Millie is home safe and sound from the hospital, brain surgery was completed expertly and efficiently.

Again, my trip to Children's National Medical Center was an eye opener. Millie gained a quasi cybernetic implant, and yours truly gained renewed persepctive. Yes, many men get to go through life without their children having to have brain surgery, but there were many, many children there that WISHED they had Spina Bifida. To them I wish many hugs, warm support, and hopefully good insurance.
In other news, yours truly is undergoing a bit of a pradigm shift, and I am kind of enjoying it. I say "kind of" , as the shift, like any change, comes with a bit of pain, and a bit of doubt. Why doubt? I am not sure, but it is how I roll.

The shift that is coming may finally reconcile some bits of me that were up to now, out of phase. You see, much like in the very dated movie "The Matrix"...I think we all carry an image of ourselves in our minds...in their parlance "a digital projection of our physical selves" or something like that. Well, The Robbyblog doesn't really see himself as being much past his early to mid-twenties. Perhaps this is why I look so youthful, it is definitely why I act so youthful...hopefully by "youthful" we imply "child like" and not "childISH".

the Goodely shares these visions...most times we feel like lunkheaded kids...pretending to be grown ups. We pay a mortgage, keep our jobs, but at the same time have hand me down furniture, eat ice cream for dinner and sit at the kids table. Alright, that last one is a stretch, but there you go.

Now, enter the MillieBorg. With Millie, I am home a lot more than I ever was, and I am starting to find myself in many "typical suburban man" situations, that is, acting like an "adult"...talking to the neighbors about this and that mostly, getting invited to neighborhood parties and social gatherings and hanging out in the park with the other parents. I plan little projects around the house, and have a naked lady calendar over where my home workbench will be.

Am I ready for this? Am I ready to offer up the sacrificial lamb of happy hour with the girls for backyard barbecues with the neighbors? Will gaming be the next to hit the abattoir of home life and daddyismhood?

Or will it be another bit of integration? Our model of parenthood is based on what OUR parents were, a whole other generation before, so naturally some new model, some new pattern must be created. Will there be an ice chest with wine and cheese in my stroller for when we visit the park? Will my "small projects" around the house be to install a stripper pole in our basement?

In the movie Dogma, the Metatron tells Bethany as she is trying to reconcile her new relationship with HER world, that she must be the person she always was, but she also needed to be this as well, from time to time.

So, what is the end result? I think I will become more than I ever thought possible as a result. Yes, some shifting may occur. I may go on fewer happy hour events, or play fewer games, but if I have learned anything from my eight and thirty actual years (regardless of my matrix image) is that there is always MORE of me that can happen. I CAN be all that I was before, and now be Super Father and Suburban Neighborhood Guy. I am hoping to be a nifty "Super groovy suburb guy for the year 2010 and beyond", so cool that Millie will have no choice but to roll her eyes and giggle maniacally with her friends at what a dork her father is.

but...being a dork is cool now, right honey?

...honey?

You would think they would have a better word than "Shunt"

2007-05-30T17:29:00.000-07:00

But, there you go.

Millie dear has an operation scheduled for Monday, the 4th of June. Its brain surgery, but a mild, routine form of brain surgery. Yes, that makes it sound like a mild routine form of fighter jet combat, but yes, apparently this little operation (and everything that is little is cute, right?) will keep Millie in the hospital for an overnight, then we take her home on Tuesday.

Before anyone goes all freaking out on us, please, just relax. We have known about this for a little while, but I take it as a fabulous sign that I would rather post about MDWy2k7 than about Spina Bifida stuff.

But, into every garden of Millie, a little Spina Bifida rain must fall. I went through some websites for you , looking at shunts and hydrocephalus and such, and finally found one that wasn't all doom and gloom, prophecizing infections, complications and trouble at every turn. Can you believe I had to travel all the way to Australia to find a decent, "happy" pro-positive outcome website?

While you read up, here is another picture of Millie...Millie O Millie....

For those non-reading types (myself at the head of that backwards class) basically they are going to put a relief valve in Millie's head with a drainage tube down to her abdomen. Its really important, so in it goes. That's pretty much that. She will have it in there all her life, and she will probably end up "owning" it, if I know us at all, so it will be okay to ask her about it, and even stare a little. Considering the head of unruly moppet hair that she has now, you best come over and stare now, or it will be lost to curls and pink ribbons soon!

MDWy2k7.....Dippity Doo!

2007-05-29T17:21:00.000-07:00

Alright, I will just assume you all bought the CD, or were having a silent chuckle at me being the last one on my block to buy it. Fine!

We went to the New Jersey Shore for Memorial Day Weekend 2007. You may recall from previous posts that the family decided to not have Memorial Day Weekend at my parent's house as the biggest to do in the history of familydom. Well, Losing one Millie (Grandma Millie Torre) and gaining our new Millie (Millie Isabella Lach) kind of set the scales to imbalance towards doing it one more time.

Well, let me tell you, it was amazing. I have the material for SO many posts now...but the first and foremost has to be about Millie Isabella.

I knew the family was pulling for us to have a baby for a very long time, but I had no idea how important this particular baby would be to some of my family. The Goodely and I were looking for a good traditional name for the baby, and when Grandma passed away, it seemed like common sense that we would name her Millie. We joked about getting brownie points with the family here and there, but just tongue and cheek stuff. Its a kick butt baby name, and a touching tribute as well.

Well...the family went crazy for Millie. There were some tears, but mostly laughter and holding, cooing and canoodling, cajoling and cannoli. More than one person commented that bringing THIS Millie to the family was a big help in letting the other one go. When I told another person that every time I thought of someone calling OUR Millie "Grandma Millie", well, the floodgates opened.

No trip to my parents house would be compleat without at least seeing the beach (right, Cousin Mike?) or dipping our toes. Dipping ALL the family toes, that is.

Here are the pictures, good friends one and all!

Cousin Mike..never did see the beach, but we certainly pounded on some bar doors to open them up bright and early!

Lots of pictures of me and the baby, it is MY blog, after all!

I think I look pretty good....snoogans.

Alright, I will shut up now...THESE two look amazing! For those playing at home, this might be the first clear picture of the Goodely. Gentlemen, eat your hearts out! Squee!

The big dip...yes, the water was cold, but one of the big upsides to SPina Bifida? She probably can't feel her feet...nooch.
A few of the Grandparents....

Now, there is a man that LOVES it when you call him...Big Poppa! The Notorious B.O.B.!

I am the only jerk in America that can make a beautiful picture of Gramma and her Granddaughter all about ME.....but that baby LOooOOooooooooves me!!!
I hope this holds you over for a bit. Coming back from vacation on a short week has me stressed and flailing about like a twitchy kid hopped up on pixie sticks playing "Pin the Tail on the Donkey" on Ritalin Day! Hopefully I can get some more posts up...like the "13 year old" comment....

Hammered Dulcimer? I nearly killed her!

2007-05-23T07:25:00.000-07:00

Do yourselves a frickin' favour already, and buy this Compact Disc!

You can take a look at the artist, her calendar and other musical offerings at her homepage , but for the love of Bob, buy her CD!

Darcy is rapidly becoming a good friend of mine, and it is odd to me that she became friend first in my mind, and crazy talented musician second. I have seen her perform at the Maryland Renaissance Festival of course, but either I have been too silly, too costumed or too tipsy and distracted by all the shiny items and pretty colours to appreciate how scary talented my new friend is.

I feel I am ill qualified to give an informed review of the CD, but I really like it, and some of the songs make me weep openly every time I hear them.

Alright, look....here's the deal...no more baby pictures until you buy the CD! I mean it. It was nominated for a Grammy for the Sake of Peter!

You go...you go buy now!

Happy One Month Old!

2007-05-16T20:40:00.000-07:00

Happy Birthday Sweetheart!

Nothing to see here...

2007-05-14T18:52:00.000-07:00

Just some random postings. Everything is getting to some semblance of normalcy here. I am sure the Goodely Wyfe would disagree with me, but then again, it is her that is getting savaged by Millie the Nipple Ravager every "coupla too tree" hours and not me. The wee little bugger latched on to yours truly during some tummy time, and let me tell you, it was not pleasant!

She is a dear. We were to go down to Children's Hospital for our first Spina Bifida clinic last week, but wouldn't you know it? The frickin' Queen of England was there! That's right...because the lead figurehead from some sovereign nation whose heiny we kicked (and are so proud of, sheesh, what are they, the size of New York?) a few hundred years ago comes to town, my little girl doesn't get medical attention? Apparently, to my sleep addled mind, that is exactly what transpired.

Well, not exactly..compounding any "Imperial Entanglements" was a simple error on behalf of this "technological terror we've created", the fact that our appointments, which were set up by some of the most advanced medical minds in our country, were not even in the computer. Yes, I KNOW, without the computer, I would not be able to share half naked pictures of myself, talk about my wang, my life, and my Wyfe with all of you, but at the same time, it appears that even the most simple tasks are now more complicated than ever due to our computational overlords.

Oh yes, I could shuck the whole deal. Goodness...did I just throw a gauntlet down in front of myself? Am I man enough to enact a "no personal computing vacation"? I don't know...for how long? A week? Two weeks? A month? It seems crazy. Actually, it seems really crazy. Impossible and "inconceivable" (and I DO know what that word means, thank you, Giant!). There are folk in this universe that only get to experience me through this medium, folks that I have met, carried on with , fallen in and out of love with, all without even seeing each other, well, except for the above mentioned blog pics, etc. Denying myself the simple pleasure of worldwide narcissism is an anathema to me. I am just needy enough to want to stay connected, and you are apparently just needy enough to have me.

Thanks for that, by the way, and keep checking in. More on Millie the Mangler when we return!

I think you are all going to have to call or drop by....

2007-05-10T19:25:00.000-07:00

Because all I do now is hold the baby...and can think of no better way to spend my time, than with Millie in my arms.

I love this child. I am listening to a friend's CD, where she sings and plays her hammered dulcimer, and crying while I type. This little girl that the Goodely and I have created is so wonderful and precious to me. I wish you all could be here now...mostly to hold me.

I just want to be good enough. Goddess, Lord, whoever is out there....well, according to my spiritual practice, its YOU, my family, my friends, and the complete strangers that I meet along the way that I pray to and hold holy. Please then, please help me to be the person I want to be for this child....for myself, for my Wyfe, and for you. I think I have it in me....I hope I do.

So we....

2007-04-28T10:23:00.000-07:00

..feed
and we feed
and we change
and we burp
and we feed
and we change
and we burp
and we sleep
and we feed
and we change
and we burp
and we feed
and we feed
and we feed
and we feed
and we change...

..and then we get cuddletime.

"My Water Broke.."

2007-04-25T18:19:00.000-07:00

Well, I never got THAT particular phone call, but today at 11:38a.m., I got this call:

"Robert, they are letting Millie out of the hospital...TODAY!"

And we rushed downtown to get her. It was an amazing trip down Georgia Avenue, to the hospital and into the Intensive Care Unit...highs and lows as the enormity of taking another human being home with us finally crashed against my shores, leaving me eroded but enriched. It is a breathaking experience, one many of you know, and one many of have decided not to know. I walk hand in hand with the former, and do not begrudge the latter, as again, it is an enormous prospect, and I cannot help but be shot through with doubt and fear...

...and love and joy! We ARE going to be great parents! This does NOT mean the end of Robby as we know him. In fact, sitting on my front porch earlier tonight, sipping the last of my Scotch (my father, who had been visiting, cleared out my inventory of scotch, except for the bit belonging to "Robert, NEVER take another man's last drink") I was thinking of many things, from how to best strategically position baby gates to keep our dog (who seems to like putting baby heads in her mouth) and our infant separated, but appreciated, AND the notion of turning my basement into an ersatz speakeasy to host Happy Hours every Friday for the neighborhood. Heck, with its own side entrance and new lounge aesthetic....it could be a grand, grand idea.

Eight years ago we decided to have children. Eight years have passed, with us living good lives, having fun, sleeping in and being little kids. We will still take our little kiddedness with us forward, but now we have a little playmate to help us remember what it truly means to be a child, and to experience this world for the first time.

Firsts? Well, Millie's first breath of "fresh" air was an underground parking garage and noxious pipe effluence. I was glad to get her home, and onto the front porch, where she could smell grass, and new rain.

Welcome Home Millie!

More Movies....

2007-04-24T18:09:00.000-07:00

I suppose it is tough waking up to find that your pig has bogarted your best meds. A helping hand from mommy settles things down nicely.

Yep...I imagine eventually I will get back to blogging about my nethers and such.....be patient!

Hiccups!

2007-04-21T16:19:00.000-07:00

So, here we go, I have become the Ultimate Baby Blogger! This is Millie with the hiccups. Apparently, Cecil B DeDaddy has no idea how to capture sound, so you have to look for visual cues!

Thanks for watching!

Consider yourself, at home....

2007-04-18T14:35:00.000-07:00

..consider yourself...part of the family.

Millie Isabella Lach
April 16, 2007

Mille came into our lives a little bit early, so around 12:40 pm on that Monday. She is a delight, and everyone fell in love with her. I cannot describe what when on in the operating room when she was born, or my Goodely Wyfe will kill me, but suffice to say, it was very, very messy.

The hospital staff at both the Washington Hospital Center and Children's Hospital of DC were all very , VERY attractive, young and professional. If for a second you ever think that we are raising a bunch of screw headed no nothings, go to a hospital and check out the resident staff. They will amaze you by their skills and talents, which actually do manage to overshadow their hawtness from time to time, but just barely.

I loved how the extremely sexy anathesiologist got all up in the Goodely's chicken, flirting with her and practically cuckolding me right in front of my eyes, but all of this was to somehow make the idea of a huge needle going into her spine palatable. I think he could have shown her the joys of forbidden love at that point, and she would have agreed. I think Suziehulaloop and I would certainly have!

Millie came out, all sticky, hairy and wet, at a comfortable 7 pounds 5 ounces, but with a bright and shining golf ball sized open lesion just above her heiny. Just looking at that thing made me cry. It is odd how you know what you are going to get, but the seeing of it makes it all the worse.

Crazy though, because very quickly, as we waited to have her transferred to the other hospital to get her stabilized and prepped for surgery, what made me the most emotional was not all the silly little things she may NOT be able to do, like walking, whatever (she does have a lots of good mobility signs) , but all the things she was going to BE able to do. I had WAY too much time to wait for the transfer, but as I cupped her little head, and placed my other palm at the small of her wee little back, I thought of all of you. I thought of the Traveller, of the Maestro, the HulaHoop and the NOVA Hivemind. The Chatty Kathy, The GTM...family, friends, the gamers, the lovers, the dreamers and me. I thought of her namesake, and how Millie Torre, my recently passed grandmother, would be happy to know that someday, long after I am gone, someone will ask this little "Grandma Millie" to tell her stories to them, and how her stories will be our stories.

Children's is non denominational, so there were few icons or prayers in evidence (from the institution, that is, we had everyone from pagans to catholics lined up) and the inscription at the bottom of the picture posted above her super sci-fi incubatrix read "Children are the messages we leave for the future." I encourage you all to feel free to "leave a message with Millie" however and whenever you want.

Some nitty gritty bitties: Millie has the "fuck a bunch of Spina Bifida" as one of her step aunts put it. The neurosurgeons did some preliminary testing, and so far Millie is showing decreased sensations below her waist, but has some..

..oh hell....you know what? All y'all has to know is that she is beautiful, healthy and ours. The rest of it will work itself out, and after 3 days in hospital, i have heard it way too much to type it all out again. I know many of you are curious, but isn't your curiosity satisfied by FINALLY knowing the sex? For those of you that I told already, do NOT tell the Goodely that you knew, or she will take steps to ensure we will never have another child of our own, by de-testiculating me. That's a medical term, by the way...that much I remember.

On Manscaping and Impulse Control Troubles

2007-04-12T04:48:00.000-07:00

So, I love my girlfriends, or friends-what-are-girls so much. Y'all are so very open and chatty about a wide range of subjects. I have recently been doing some self-beautification and alteration (tatoos and such) the most recent of which has been a round of manscaping.

Yep, I give a trim up to my down there on a fairly regular basis, so was wondering what the current trends were in the distaff groundskeeping.

I was very surprised to see that there is still a wide range of nether forestation in evidence! My field research has only been in the form of oral exams....hmm...ahem...has only been in a question and answer format, but the data is conclusive. Everything from the hardwood floor to nigh-topiarian designs to the rampant hippy verdancy was represented in our sample audience. It was very heartening indeed.

Heartening because as much as I have my own preferences (which I will not state, as a clinical observer, I must remain neutral) I still hold to the notion that we gentlemen prefer a variety in all things. Needless to say, we are all to be EXTREMELY grateful to whomever allows us to get close enough to romp through the flora whatsoever that the length and breadth of the surrounding copse is more or less moot, it is still nice to know that folk are switching it up, and trying new things. You never know what you are going to get, and isn't that part of the true fun of passion? It is difficult to keep your paramour guessing after all the years of marriage and dating, so perhaps a little surprise in the lawn maintenance can go a long way to kindling or rekindling the moments in a safer way than a stray pinkie finger might.

Alright, perhaps I won't state my preferences, but I was "raised" on mid-seventies Playboy magazines, and thus it isn't very surprising that the well edged equilateral triangle is one of my favorite geometrical shapes.

There is no point to this post, obviously, so you can read into or out of it anything you wish. I am glad that I use the titles of my posts to keep me on track, because I almost forgot to mention the "impulse control" portion of the show. On a whim, and since I was recently thinking of the Playboy magazines of my youth, I wondered how difficult it might be to lay hands on one such journal issue, or perhaps an even earlier copy...perhaps the month of my birth? Well, Robbybloggers, apparently it is as easy as E-B-A-Y! I found this gem for a mere pittance, and it is on its way to the house.

The finest that August 1968 had to offer. As always, and the along the same lines of why you tune in here....I do indeed read it for the articles. :)

As If I were Not Sexy Enough..

2007-04-10T03:58:00.000-07:00

I went and got a tattoo last monday!

I KNOW! Who would have thunk the late thirties Robbyblog would go under the needle, the NEEDLE for the love of Bob, and get himself some ink? Well, most of us, actually.

Before:

I had wanted to get a tatoo like, forever. Forever-ever? Forever ever EVER! I think they are sexy, stylish, spiritual and nifty as all get out. Yes, I am sure whatever culture invented lifetime pain-inking hoped that someday some soon to be daddy would call the process and the result "nifty". Like any major decision I have ever made, I thought about it foryears, then pulled the trigger in mere moments.

There was some thought to my process that these kinds of things (going to London, getting a tattoo, lion taming, etc.) are my Last Gasp before the Wombrider makes his or her arrival. You know, there is a little something to that, but there is so much more as well. I am not breathing my last before the baby comes. I have become, in some ways, a better person than I have ever been. If you are looking for the ModestyBlog, you know by now that this isn' it. I love me, and I really love the person that I have become these last nine months. I feel more empowered than any kind of feeling like the end is nigh. The beginning is nigh!

The bear paw? Well, as I said at The Traveler's going away dinner "The bear has always been my animal to call". Although the monkey and I have many similarities as well, it has always been the bear that I have seen in my visions, and feel in my heart. Even the most superficial traits of the bear seem to apply to me, cuddly, sleepy, ferocious in anger, hairy, growly, protective, etc. Heck, I likes me the bears, and I likeys me the tribal look.

During:

The Bethesda Tattoo Company was delightful. Of course it took longer and was more expensive than I expected, but everyone there was very talented, polite and clean. As usual, I projected my preconceived notions on the tatoo parlour, and was intimidated and scared at first when I got my estimate and made my appointment. When I went back, everyone seemed a little smaller, and less scary to me. We started chatting a bit, and everything was cool.

My artist was some "kid" (just a few years younger than me) but was every inch a true professional. There was a ritual washing and shaving of the intended area, heavy "old school" metal playing (is that Judas Priest I hear?) and he recommended some breathing exercises for the pain and said we could take as many breaks as I needed to.

I am very happy to say that I ended up "sitting" (I was laying down) like a champ. his words, not mine. We did two hours of the stinging inking non stop and from start to finish. I did, of course, sweat so much I went right through my clothes and all over his bench, but as we know, that is what my people bring to the table. yes, it hurt like crazy, no, it wasn't unbearable by any stretch.

After:

OMG...I got a frickin tattoo on my chest! What the heck was I thinking? How long do I have to live with this? Forever?!?! Really? Okay, breathe. I do actually love it. I love it a lot, and I like the placement, as I can see the "+12 Bear Paw of Power" every morning during my usually foppish toilette. I can't wait to read stories about bears to the little one, and have him or her look up and see that Poppa Bear is right there, ready to love, cuddle, and to proceed with the rending should anyone try to invade our territory. ;)

In Which I Make a Promise I Cannot Hope to Keep...

2007-04-08T08:24:00.000-07:00

That's right Robbybloggers. I hereby vow to post EVERY DAY for a week! In the words of the immortal Wayne Campbell:

"Sh'ah...right!"

Let's get started then without further ado with the Giggles Farm. Yes, the baby's room is compleatly complete! For that matter, the entire house is in what I consider "showroom readiness", and has attained a level of cleanliness and organization such as it has never seen before. I am prouder than a hung peacock, I must say. It is an amazing feeling, as I was putting the last touches on the baby's room, I found that I needed a screwdriver. Well, I went right downstairs to the basement, directly to my new tool-chest (thanks, parents!) and opened the drawer where the screwdrivers are kept, and voila! There was a screwdriver! I KNOW! Can you imagine such a thing? Honestly, three months ago, nobody in this house could.

I de-fragged the house this winter, much like you would defrag a hard drive. I opened every box, uncovered every layer of miscellaneous belonging we had, divided it all up into easily definable categories, and then threw it all away. Okay, maybe I kept some of it, but in the end, we have much much, much less stuff, and all of said stuff is now more or less where it belongs.

Amazing, absolutely amazing. The Goodely Wyfe and I have been having some discussions about how nothing is ever "perfect", and it seemed to me that she was advocating that we never try for perfection, as since it is never attainable, why waste effort trying to get there? I think that if you don't try for perfection, however, you will never know how far you can actually go. Doing one's best is laudable, its true, but how will you know what your best is, if you don't at least try fotr the best imaginable?

Its disappointing some times, to be true, and i am constantly "failing" to create perfection at work, at home, in the gym or wherever, but striving for the ideal , or whatever the ideal is in my mind, has led me to tackle some projects and create some things that I did not think I was capable of. The latest project of course, was the Giggles Farm.

Since I know the sex of our baby, and the Goodely does not, we needed to keep the room gender neutral, but I wanted it to be homey and festive. We decided on a farm theme, or a barnyard theme if you will, and here are the results:

Whoops! Alright then, that must be the "before" picture..lets try again, shall we?

No, still before...ah, here's the ticket!

And a few more....

Many thanks to the Goodely Wyfe for her encouragement and support, the Maestro for his unimaginable talents and brushwork, and of course, Giggles, for being my inspiration.

Thanks to y'all for reading and waiting somewhat patiently for posts! See you tomorrow!

I thought it worked the other way around!

2007-03-20T05:28:00.000-07:00

I have fallen pretty far behind on my plans for the baby's room. The Giggglesfarm is coming along nicely, but it will be a panting photo finish at the end of the race. In hindsight, I couldn't quite figure out why I felt I needed to do all of this work myself, and not either 'write the check", or have some of the troops over to help out. It really is just one room, and I am sure we could have banged it out in a day.

Being an architect, I can be a little controlling, but never to the point that I have refused to solicit assistance in the past. No, something else was at work here, besides me. A large part of this is the nesting bug that I caught, wanting to create from my own two hands and imagination a room, a space for my child to live in that would be my gift. I don't get to have the womb, and cannot nurture quite so directly, so in this way, and architecturally, I can create an environment for my child to create his or her first memories.

Last night, however, my purely altruistic notions of "why I was working so hard" crumbled into dust, and I am now experiencing quite a bit of melancholy. It seems that a lot of the force behind all of my hard work comes from guilt.

Yep, guilt, the prime motivator passed down from parent to child for all generations. How could it be then that my unborn child could make me feel this way, so powerfully and before the little tyke is even born? Well, back when we found out our child has Spina Bifida, I was VERY scared, and advocated heavily for terminating the pregnancy. I did not want to bring this child into the world, this wonderful child that now I love more than I could possibly imagine. All of this work, all of this love, all of the emotion and anticipation of having a child would not have occured if we decided to terminate. I feel horrible and guilty about what I was feeling at the time.

Yes, I KNOW I felt that way for just a week, a week in which I was scared and looking into the Abyss. I KNOW that I came to the decision to keep the baby on my own terms, and I just needed to travel through that darkness to get to the light of acceptance and love. Knowing, however, is not "half the battle", nor is it an eigth for me...FEELING is where my battlefields are, and that is where I frequently lose said battles. As we mentioned last night, it is not your feelings that are right or wrong, its what we do as a result of them that matters. Even if we came to the decision to terminate together, it still would have been the right thing to do, but I am now so glad that we decided to keep Giggles.

So, I am faced with this guilt. Considering how powerfully it hit me last night, I can only surmise that it was lurking patiently and building all this time, while the rest of me was happy and expectant. When it pounced, it pounced hard, and I could barely get my hand around it to hold it up to the light and have a look at it. I hope that I can now take a good hard look at it and deal with it in the next month or so, as I do not want guilt to be a driving factor in how I deal with my child. I may be seeking professional help at some point, as I have off and on throughout my life, but for now I will seek your semi-professional help in this, as I have found the help of my family and friends to be far more productive, my apologies to the mental helath professionals out there. :)

Today, the Maestro will be working in the nursery, and I am not only okay with that, I am elated. Perhaps having him there today will break the seal of "I have to do all of this by myself" and allow me to solicit other help as well. Be aware, Robbybloggers, as I may be calling you soon! :) The more people that I allow to help, perhaps, the less pressure I will feel upon myself to "make it up" to my baby that I wanted to end his or her potential life.

Thanks for listening, and for being my friends.

Finally...London!

2007-03-04T14:32:00.000-08:00

I owe you all many posts and updates, and will get to them in good time. Look for such entries as "Most Brief Snowman Ever", "The Death of Grandma Torre" and of course "Was I Always Beautiful" and "The Giggles Farm" to be coming to this space soon. For now, however, my latest crush has demanded that I post my experiences in London. In a fabulous comic book series called The Enigma, the main character had an intellect so vast that he could actually take a full day to remember a previous day, completely reliving it in his mind. I would like to be able to tell you everything I thought and did while in London, but my own cranial prowess is lacking in that regard, as is my ability / desire to type that much, so you will have to settle for a few random thoughts and notions.

London is, simply put, much like the best science fiction ever. The world you find yourself in is just foreign enough to make you anxious and bewildered, but also familiar enough that you can actually get around on your own. Everything from the money to the movies to the clubs to dining was familiar enough in that I didn't have to point at stuff and grunt or make hand motions like "feed that to me" or "no, I don't want that in my mouth". The differences were startling, however, when you realized that every sign, every socket, every taxi and every phone was "different" than what you are used to. Add to that the fact that they have swarming bands of Meerkats roaming the streets to such a degree that they have to post signs warning against them:

This bewildered soul succumbed to both these feelings of alienation and familiarity resulting in me being stirred instead of shaken.

Yes, stirred! The vast metropolitan landscape was amazing to behold, filled with, well, SO many non-British people that my imagined novelty status as a foreigner went right out of the window of the tube. Hmm..good notion there...are you Brits? English? Citizens of the United Kingdom? Sorry, love, this ugly American never took the time to find out, so you are all Brits to me. I hope you can forgive me if there is any slight. Speaking of our ugly yank, here he is at none other than Big Ben:

I look happy enough, and that is because I was! The Traveler was a wonderful guide to the City of Lights, or whatever they call London. We actually went to a salon type place on my first night in, and exclusive dinner club to meet and greet the Brits in their natural habitat. It was delightful, and very odd, as one of our dining companions actually was a student of...get this...American Studies! Who would have thought America warranted studies? I thought the world just grimaced at us, the buffoon in the wrong clothes stuffing his face at the buffet that everyone tolerates because you never know who he is going to punch. In any event, some American celebrity was assigned to me, and I did my best to give this bloke a good impression of Americans by drinking way too much and hitting on his woman. Hitting on his woman WELL, I might add.

I keep meaning to state "over the next two days, we visited many sights", but, truth be told, we saw everything on Saturday. Saturday was a whirlwind of museums, the Thames, drinks, many, many pubs, and much shopping, both indoor and out. For those of you what know London can guess as to which very obvious tourist places we went to, so i will not list them here. Needless to say, I loved the pubs the best. Here is one named after the famous Dr. Dominic Santori:

Wherein we watched a rugby game (trying to figure out the rules to that game was like trying to explain why a boar's penis rotates) while having Fish N' Chips served by a lovely eastern euorpean "lass". Again, the multicultural metropolitan feel of this place was very similar to our own Washington DC. After our big day out, we went back to The Travelers flat to freshen up, and check out the rules to rugby and the secrets of porcine penises online, then went out to Soho.

Ah...to be young, handsome, and super-gay. Oh, wait, I am older, handsome, and super married, with a baby on the way. Well, that never stopped me before, so off to Soho we went! I cashed in on some more American celebrity status, and had a chit chat with a few of the boys of Soho, and we all had a good laugh. With London entertaining about ten times the population of Washington DC, i was surprised but delighted to see that when a group decides to invade a neighborhood, they do it en masse...en massy to a degree I haven't seen before. I really couldn't tell the difference between the crowded bars and the crowded streets. It was a living, seething mass of pretty boys, and me. Oh, then we went to a hetero strip club, which was also, oddly enough, deep in the gay streets of Soho.

Sunday was....well, Sunday we wrote off almost completely, and here is where another odd dichotomy or juxtaposition or quandry or chestnut or attercop or flip flop chicken hop or well, something that came up on my trip. "Going to London" was a huge crazy thing for Bob & Lorraine's youngest son, an amazing trip across the expanse of the Atlantic Ocean to a European city of history, culture and wonder. At the same time, I was going to visit The Traveler, just like if i was going to hang out with him on a Sunday afternoon right here in Silver Spring. Sunday found us just enjoying each other's company in the flat...watching dopey movies on his wondorus big screen and properly taxed telly, and chit chatting now and again. It was delightful, and as busy as I have been, long overdue. Sure, there was more to see and do in London proper, but at the same time, the main reason i went there was to sit in the presence of my dear friend, share my energy with him, and just kind of "be". It was wonderful. We did, not to sound like a total lump, head out to the London Eye, this huge ferris wheel type thingy that you can Google up and see what it is all about. You can see it in the background of the picture of me and Big Poppa Ben (he LOVES it when you call him that) above. Yes, its HUGE! Here is a shot, a poor one at that, from the high up at night.

Very cool, and very fun, and very nervy. I guess you could say that about all of my experiences, as brief as they may be, in London. Very cool, very fun, and very nervy. I am very proud of myself for going over, seeing my friend, and not making it into a stressful "I have to see everything and do everything" kind of trip. It was delightful, pleasant and just ordinary enough to reinforce that going to London is not the big deal that it sounds like. it was very easy, very possible, and something that I hope I can reinforce in my friends and my family to be. London, the whole world for that matter, really is just kinda "over there", and you can get to it very easily.

So please, I beg you all...GO!! Go down the street, to the other coast, across the seas, over to a friend's. If Bob & Loraine's youngest can do it, so can you! The best part? When you get there...they give you sausage.

How do we do it, and what can we teach about it?

2007-02-22T10:22:00.000-08:00

We walk through this life, and feel its many little sorrows, its many little joys. Each one is felt acutely by me, spiralling me down to the depth of depsair, or shepherding me to heights of joy unparalled.

How can I even do this? Living in so many moments, so many little slices of time and space, of emotion and fact, of life and, of death? I want to laugh and cry, to sing and weep, all at the same time such that my heart feels fit to bursting.

Maybe it will one day, perhaps my heart will just sunder, break and crumble to dust. I wish it were to be an explosion of light and of butterflies, of song and the claxon call of trumpets. Would that it could be so. Some climax of emotion, either the pain unendurable that finally breaks me, or the pinnacle of joy and love that allows me to transcend the mortal coil and attain a position angelic. Would that it could be such, an accomplishment, and no longer this journey of neverending cyclical ebbs and flows.

More than anything, I am tired. I am tired of the sorrows, I am tired of the joys. i weary of this journey, when it has only just begun. I could sleep for the rest of eternity. Were I to do that, could I stand to miss all that comes next? How many of the joys and sorrows that are my due can I afford to not partake of? These events will happen with or without me, if I am participant or spectator. Shirking my participation will not undo the things that are not yet done.

I must push on, to readjust the weight of my burdens, to reassess the uplifting nature of my joys. I have never been alone on this destinationless pilgrimage, but now more than ever, I face the notion of having a Companion on my road. My unborn child will need to face the same experiences, opening his or her heart to all the world's pain and joys. For someone as frequently lost as myself, will i make a decent enough Guide? Will my childe step into that breach, and be the Guide that i have been looking for all this time? I do not have any answers, and thus my head and mind feel useless. All I have to go by is my heart, my strained, pained, loving heart to pull me around in a blustery whirlwind of emotions.

It hurts so much, it feels love so strongly. How much strength can there possibly be in it?

Optimus Prime(d)

2007-02-17T13:39:00.000-08:00

Hello true believers!

I know, I am WAY overdue for my blog entry regarding my London trip. Rest assured, faithful reader, it is on its Merry Waye! I am trying to catch up, and something amazing happened just before i went to London that i don't want to forget to post about.

Last Thursday morning (has it only been a little over a week? ) the Goodely Wyfe and I went for another Ultrasound. apparently, we now get the Ultra Ultra sound, where they can do some 4D imaging hoodoo to create an amazing image of the baby. I always thought that the fourth dimension was TIME, but there you go, apparently they can photograph time now. For your viewing pleasure, I give you...the baby Giggles.

Look like anyone you know? It is amazing, the imaging prowess, but then frightening, when I see that the little mug does indeed have the Torre nose. My whole family has this nose, this bulging potato like protuberance that gets it's namesake from Millie Torre, my grandma, and also her cousin, the (in)famous Joe Torre of New York Yankees fame.

I would say that this was our "claim to fame", but the stories I hear do not paint Mr. Torre in a rewarding light, so we will leave it at that.

The baby is, of course, beautiful to me, Torre nose nonwithstanding. On the Spina Bifida front, the baby looks good as well. There is a lot of mobility, and for the duration of the ultrasounding, (s)he actually had his / her foot stuck in his / her mouth! It was adorable, and also very easy to see that the feet were not clubbed, something that we watch out for.

The baby again decided to put its head as deep down in the womb as was possible (takes after Daddy) and as such, we couldn't get a good look at the ventricles in the brain, but what we could see looked good, with a minimal of swelling. For those playing at home, swollen brain ventricles = bad.

All of this can change at a moments notice, so stay tuned for updates as we move forward. Moving forward, I have spent all day today painting the baby's room, well, priming it at least. painting is a pain in the keister! The "fun" part, the rolling of the paint Bay City style, is surprisingly brief, and the bulk of the time is spent taping, prepping and painting trim and corners, which is the the carnival fun equivalent of changing the grease pots, and not getting the funnel cake.

But, all of this was worth it. Gigges makes me want to be a better person, so to me, "better" means getting the house in shape. I typically spend my Saturdays in Naked Town playing videogames or reading comics, but today it found me hard at work painting and prepping. Is that prepping and painting? I have no idea. I wonder if Johnny Rotten and company thought when they went into studio to cut the tracks for "Never Mind the Bullocks" that their end user would be a 38 year old ex-hipster painting the room for his baby? Most likely not, but if there is an afterlife, I hope Sid V can look down on me and smile, or at least sneer..

100 Posts and Counting!!

2007-02-14T11:30:00.000-08:00

I know, I owe you all some pictures of London, and a look into my experiences there, but before i post about that, I wanted to break my curse and actually post some photos. For Valentine's Day this year, the Goodely Wyfe snuck out to a local photographer, and had her belly shot. Unlike the fortnightly ultrasounds, these shots are from the outside!

The photos are courtesy of a wonderful local photographer! Please check her out!

I think the baby and the belly both look positively beautiful, don't you?

I am a big fan of the black and white format.

So there you go. For this, my 100th post, I actually put some pictures up, and for this centennial, I definitely posted momentous mementos.

With any luck, this will get me to post even more pictures. Here's to keeping our collective fingers crosed, eh?

London Calling!

2007-02-07T18:39:00.000-08:00

Yes yes yes, y'all, and it don't stop!

As you may recall from a previous post, a dear friend of mine left this country for Jolly Ole England...er...Great Britain, er...whatever you call that wee island sitting over there. Ugly American, anyone?

Fef...this decidely UNugly American is taking his self over the pond to visit above reference friend tomorrow evening, and staying for a long weekend! I am very excited about the whole affair, which of course, translates to "very nervous".

I aim to be spontaneous, and devil may care (or devil may care less, or Devil may wear Prada, whichever) but most of my spontaneity only comes with a lot of fore-planning and nail biting. I have everything I need to travel, but much like I frequently just assume I will be fired from my job, divorced and killed at the drop of a hat, I also kind of assume that I am not going to have some obscure piece of critical information,and the lovely woman at the customs desk (well come on now, if I am going to imagine the worst all the time, i might as well fill these dour fantasies with the uniformed hawtness, yes?) will not only keep me from flying, but also confiscate all my belongings, and give me the full body cavity search, but not in that good way.

But, laytex glove notwithstanding, I am all set for my trip. All I have to do tomorrow is get to a doctors appointment, have breakfast with the Goodely, do some laundry, pay thie bills, get a haircut, buy a videogame for my European host, pack, copy all the contact information, update my Ipod, charge it up, and get myself to the airport.

Not too bad, right?

Hey, watch this next line, its really funny:

I will post pictures when I return!

I Have a Really Good Imagination....

2007-02-04T18:35:00.000-08:00

Sometimes, almost too good. I spent some part of this past weekend cleaning out the room that will be The Nursery", and future bedroom for Giggles Wombrider. It was a lot of work, but I can safely say that we now have one totally empty room here at the Clutterhut. I doubt if many people can say the same thing about their own houses.

To take a phrase from my favorite gray haired contemporary, "I have a room with an echo."

So, tonight, just a few moments ago, I stood in said vacant room, and did very little reflection. I am only just now thinking that I, your humble author, completely vacated that room, and nothing of myself remains there in a material form. All my papers, art supplies, action figures, toys and framed documents of arbitrary certifications are no longer in evidence, they have been reabsorbed into the Body Clutter pending redistribution. This did not bother me at all, oddly enough.

No, there was little reflection. What I found myself doing was quite a bit of PROjection. Is this the same as being PROactive? Was I planning, or imagining? I think the latter. Perhaps I am more architect than I think, and just the fact that there existed an empty room propelled my mind to fill it up as fast as possible, but, lacking building implements or paints, I filled it with the only tools I had at hand, this "blessed" imagination of mine.

I could picture my incredibly lovely Goodely Wyfe rocking in a restored chair that her mother rocked (Bristow!! \m/- -\m/ ) in before The Goodely was born. There she sits, babe at her teat, sublime and content while I gazed lovingly at the two of them from the doorway, cocktail in hand.

I could also picture the two of us rushing into the room after the SIDS alarm went off on the baby monitor, shocked and horrified that our little baby had expired in the night...clutching and screaming at the lifeless babe in our arms.

I could picture the child taking first steps, then picturing the first steps with braces, then a walker, than taking a first spin in the wheelchair that he or she may use for the entirety of life.

I could picture the same child at a piano, making beautiful music, at an easel, making beautiful paintings, on the phone, trying to get that one special girl or boy to date him or her.

I could picture how sad we would be, or how sad I alone, or the Goodely alone would be walking into that room after something horrible happened to any of the three of us prior to the baby being born, and how different an experience it all would be.

I could picture me walking into that same now empty room, sitting next to my child as they lay in bed, sobbing into their pillow, because they were teased at school. I could picture me holding that child, rocking them slowly, and making all the soft sounds of reassurance that no preteen or teenager hears then, but somehow takes in, and uses to make themselves stronger and better than anyone that ever teased them could ever hope to be.

I could picture a lot of things, and they all, good or bad, happy or sad, all of them make me cry. I guess I whispered out loud only to hear whispered back to me in a soft echo in this room that will holds the potential not only for paint and furniture and toys but also the empty room that holds the promise of such great joys, such ultimate sadnesses....I whispered that it all be alright. That is what i hoped for. Not consistent and stellar jubilation, but just that it all be alright.

Please, can it all just be alright? I get so scared, and so sad sometimes. I don't think I am being an underachiever by wishing for things to be "alright". Faced with the alternatives that my mind ne'er ceases to conjure up, i think "alright" would be just fine and dandelion, thank you very much.

Imma go hug my Wyfe now. You guys take care.

Get your taxes done early!

2007-01-24T05:33:00.000-08:00

We met with the man that will be delivering the Baby Giggles. He seemed very nice, had kind but firm hands, and a bit of a oafish good tempered air about him. In fact, he reminded me very much of "PC" from the recent and I have to assume very successful Apple ads. We talked at length about what the delivery was going to look like, from a logistical point of view, and scheduled a date for it.

All things being equal, we will have a baby on April 16, 2007.

This makes Giggles an Aries, and on that subject I have no comment. Perhaps some of my more Astrologically minded brethren can tell me what that means, but with any luck, it means (s)he will be super organized and good at keeping our household finances in order. If not, perhaps it means that (s)he will be a frizzy haired feral creature running with the dogs in the backyard. Perhaps the little tyke will fall somewhere in between.

So the fantasies and daydreams are coming fast and furious at the same time as I am frantically clearing out the chaff from the wheat of the Clutterhut and getting the nursery all set up. I drew some lovely sketches on the tablecloth at the Macaroni Grill the other day, and I hope to be able to make these sketches into reality. I will promise you no pictures, as I seldom deliver.

January is turning into a great Purging Month, and I am in the final throws of, well, throwing things away. As I am desperately trying to get things out to the curb, all new things are coming in...our friends have been doing a wonderful job in giving us many of the things we will need moving forward, but my goodness, does there seem to be a lot of it! Chairs, beds, playstools, bottles, bibs, rumtugglers, bamdoozles, hipluggners and gamduzzlers! I do not believe it will all fit in the nursery, and alternate storage and staging areas will have to be devised. Sometimes it feels like we are just swapping clutter at this point in preparing for the transition to parenthood in some kind of poorly executed shell game.

Interesting notion to follow: I try to be comical when I say that the engagement is the best "man training" period in a couples' relationship, as the habit is formed over months of time (in the case of the goodely and I, years) of the woman making all sorts of decisions, and the man (again, typically) just nodding and smiling with noncomittal grunts. It sets up a lovely pattern of the woman running the show for the marriage, wouldn't you think? Similarly, the idea that I am physically throwing away a lot of my stuff, and packing up many of my toys and games for the attic and even giving away most of my comic book collection to make way for a new workbench and a metric tonne of baby stuff is good prep and training for what....is this adulthood? Is this when it happens? Perhaps the notion has seeped into my (sub)consciousness that there will be a whole human being totally dependent on me for its life and well being. It is scary, but also amazingly empowering, even more so than creating Sims or new characters in World of Warcraft.

So will the Clutterhut finally become the phycial embodiment of how I would like to be perceived? Is the Clutterhut already an exact reflection of who I am? I don't think it is, or I would resonate more with it, and not feel anxious and unsettled there as I do now. What I do know is that now with the imminent arrival of the Womb Rider, I am working hard to transform Clutter the Hutt into something closer to where I imagine raising a child would look like.

I saved my best girl for last.

2007-01-10T07:28:00.000-08:00

My parents are coming to visit again!

Normally this would fill me with delight, but this time I face their visit with some reservations and trepidation. They are coming a few days early, and the reason for this is "something my father wants to do", and he isn't telling anyone. Perhaps you can see why I might be concerned.

I am trying my best to take a page out of a good (and very attractive) friend's playbook and say "Can't you just be happy, now?", as in, whatever happens will happen, why worry about it, when you can just be happy, right here, and right now. She is a good friend, and sometimes her sagacity surprises me.

So, I sit at my desk, and count my blessings.

1. Nesting: I always wondered when I would start caring, really caring, about our home environment. Apparently the imminent arrival of one Giggles is exactly the catalyst I was waiting for. I actually cancelled a gaming appointment to stay home and purge old clothes, junk and trash from the Clutterhut to make way for not only a new workbench (hopefully more on that in a future post) but also to get the nursery all prepared.

2. Internets "not just for porn": Who knew? I joined a few yahoogroups related to Spina Bifida. Needless to say, everyone has been wonderful, and they are from all demographics. I am not sure how immersed in the "culture" of special needs I, Talley or Giggles wants to or needs to be, so the relative anonymity of the Intertubes is a great first step for me. Of course, this cuts into my gaming time and the time I spend chatting up the lovelies from overseas (yes, you!) some more, but eh...it seems worth it.

3. iPod! I love this frickin' thing! yeah, yeah, so has everyone that has had one for the last 7 years or whatever, but to them I quote another (very attractive and female) friend and say "Piffle!". When I adopted this technology is of no import. THAT I have adopted is the Good. I SO look forward to going to the gym now, even more than I did before, so I can watch movies on the elliptical or stairmasterix or ramp-o-vater or whatever contraption I have decided to strap myself into on any given weekday. Soon I will be soliciting recommendations for my iTunes list, so watch this space for details.

4. Office Space: "doesnt it feel good to be a gangsta?" Okay, just a little movie reference there, but I have moved my deskspace to a coveted window seat! I am very, very excited about this, and hope it kicks my work initiative up a notch. Hmm...considering I am here at work updating my blog, no such luck thusfar.

In other work news, the Goodely Wyfe gave unto me a few magazine subscriptions for (and I will quote yet ANOTHER pretty "girlfriend" of mine) "Giftmas", Dwell and Cottage Living. I am very glad to have received these trade publications, and how they come at me from both sides of the residential design spectrum, modern and traditional. I haven't made much headway through either of these books, but I am looking to carve time out of my workday to do it.

5. Gaming: I couldn't NOT post a current events entry wthout touching on this subject. Dork hats on, everyone! I am meeting up with my IT guy next Monday evening at midnight for the release of World of Warcraft's (WoW) Burning Crusade expansion, and we are planning on taking a day off from work to play it. I am so excited, I think I just peed a little. I thought the WoW trading card game would be the thing to pull me away from the computer game, but alas, it couldn't do it. I am totally this game's bitch, and we like it that way, thank you very much.

Even though I have a very committed relationship with WoW, I do like to get with friends now and again. To that end (add the special nerd tassle to the Dork Hat, please) we are going to start playing the Star Wars Roleplaying Game this very Sunday. I will be playing an Ithorian EcoPriest Force Adept Medic. This game takes us right back to the d20 system, so there will be some reminiscent elements to this new frontier of gaming for me. That's right, I have never roleplayed Star Wars before! Crazy, huh?

6. Big Fat Pregnant Goodely: I saved the best for last. I love this woman like crazy. She is smart, beautiful, a hard worker and the light of my life. It's a little discouraging that in our day to day, we don't spend a lot of time together, but I think just knowing we are there, cohabitating, silently and not so silently supporting and loving each other, makes all the difference in the world. How lonely and sad my online gaming might be without her to snuggle up with when it was all said and done. Heck, I think ALL of the above blessings would be at 50% stauration (Photoshop, ftw) without the presence of this wonderful woman in my lyfe.

So there....blessings counted, work not done, lunchtime imminent. So much for Hump Day!

My 15 Minutes of Internet Fame..

2007-01-02T04:27:00.000-08:00

Hello Folkses, and Happy New Year!

It would seem that your humble correspondent has been "published" to the Intertubes. You can find my recent article at Sequential Tart. If you have the time, please review the rest of the website's content, as it is jam packed full of...well, tasty jam.

It was oddly difficult to get over the idea that i would be writing for someone else, and for editorial review and "publication". Hmm...I would like to stop using the finger quotes and just write published and publication. Is that okay? perhaps it would be best to use iPublished or ePublished. Once i got started, and with the encouragement of some lovely women, off i went to come up with some one thousand words or so. The topic, of course, is one that is near and dear to my heart, which made it easier.

So go and take a look, then hang out and learn a little more about the world of comic books. Its a good way to start 2007, methinks.

Technology Update

2006-12-29T07:17:00.000-08:00

Maybe I am wrong, though I seldom am, but it appears to me that the current trend in technology is for someone to come out with two "boxes", one for home use, and one for portable use. I am not sure why this hasn't come to pass yet, but I would very much like for this to happen, even if it means a monopoly by some MicroMacVerizon or AppleSoftCingular conglomeration.

My home iBox would be my computer, music player, video recorder, television and photo editor all in one handsome package.

My iPort(able) would be my phone, music player, camera, GPS and "palm" style organizer.

The key to this "all in one" philosophy would be in service and support. In order for the iBoxes to really work, they would need some incredible tech support performing both house calls and places where you could drop in with your iPort for software updates and total replacement in the case of accidental jamming or jellying of the contraption. As much as we rely on these devices, one could not go without for very long while your iBox or iPort was "in the iShoppe".

I think there are some folks out there that have really come close to hitting this mark, armed with Treos and iMacs and such that really perform many duties. I don't know if it is a money thing or a coordination / initiative thing that lets these techno'nauts excel in this regard. Me? I come to technology in drips and drabs and as such, I have many boxes. I may have too many boxes. I may be the ugliest American in the world, complaining or commenting on how much duplicity I have in all the incredibly high tech devices I have in my Batman-esque utility belt. Now, based on previous posts, I am looking at the new video capable iPod with a covetous eye. Like bringing any new member of the family home, we need to have a round table discussion with the rest of the "team":

"Alright all you little boxes...we are about to get a new member of the family, so make some room, and lets figure some things out.

Okay, you....phone, front and center! That's right, super LG camera VZ MP3 playing GPS capable mini computer gaming console..guess what...you are a PHONE! All I want out of you as we move forward is more talky, less nonsense. No more Sims2, no more bad camera play, no more video capture. Be a phone, a glorious, wonderful phone!

You...digital camera....time to take up the slack. You have always been clear in your purpose. Take the pictures, mighty but dainty shutterbuggy....be more present, and the rewards shall be yours.

iPod Shuffle....ah, you plucky little chewing gum sized music delivery system. How we have had our fun, playing everything from Robert Goulet to Nelly to the Buffy the Vampire Slayer "Once more with Feeling" to the Pyrates Royale in a random playstyle sure to give a saner man fits and / or convulsions. You will be missed. Perhaps the Goodely can take you under her wing, or at least stow you in her pocketbook, to be whipped out and brandished. No more Snoop Dogg...prepare for Hair, Janis Joplin and Norah Jones. yes, your musical terets will continue, but in a compleatly different bent.

Okay, do we all understand our roles in the Grande iScheme? Do I understand it all?

Does anybody?

Who would have thought it?

2006-12-27T09:01:00.000-08:00

But I have $150 to spend, and no idea of how to spend it! Its crazy, I know! I have spent twice that amount drinking at Faire, you would think it would be easy to dispose of $150 at the mall of all things.

I received this gift card at Christmas this year, and am unsure of what to do with it. As it is, I feel like I received tonnes of new stuff this year, and even treated myself to a few new things above and beyond the holiday season.

Sure, there is plenty of stuff we "need", but since this is a gift card, I feel like I am cheating the gift giver out of getting me something this year if I use his present to buy kitty litter and tube socks. Who knows, maybe that's a really good gift for some folk. I feel almost obligated to use the card to get myself something kinda frivolous and cool. Some thoughts are:

I gave my brother a swanky video iPod for his 40th birthday and he loves it. Immediately after I gave it to him, of course, the evil nature of sibling rivalry reared its horrible head, and I wanted one too! Did I just create my own sibling rivalry hoops to jump through? Maybe. So the iPod is like $250.00, so I would have to pitch in an extra hunski and then attain renewed sibling parity. Well, apparently the video iPod is kind of a money sucker as well. Movie videos apparently cost MORE to download than to purchase at the Target ($14.99 for Pirates II online, and $12 at Target) and television shows I couldn't be bothered to watch to begin with would cost me about $34.99 for the privelage of watching them on my iPod. From what I gather, you also cannot "burn" a dvd that you already own to your iPod, as you can your CDs....maybe I am wrong. Wait, I will check with my tech guru...

..alright, apparently you can do it, but it cost like $30.00 or so for a program. Alright, enough on that.

Our XM radio just got jacked from my car by the silliest of all theives, considering one phone call to XM rendered the unit useless. So I could get a new XM unit, which I will ahve to get anyway, and perhaps upgrade to a portable XM unit that also plays MP3's like an iPod. No video, but also no other extra expense.

Back to the iPod, i could just get the Nano, pay my $150, and be done with it....nice and simple.

I could buy new dress shirts.

I could get a puppy.

I could..I could...I could...

I could absolutely fillet the person that gave me the gift that keeps on chewing on the back of brain in the form of a gift card....when you care just little enough to throw money at a problem.

maybe I will just wrap the card up, and give it back to him next year! :)

Winter Solstice

2006-12-21T06:27:00.000-08:00

Today is the shortest day of the year, the longest night. Were I a poet of some kind, and not some hack wannabe wordsmith, I would have better imagery to bring to you regarding the importance or significance of this planetary event.

But, ya know what folks? The recent go around with Giggles imparted to me something quite profound, to some obvious, that I will relate to you. I had to question how I viewed science, religion and God in the last week or so, as we were contemplating terminating our pregnancy. Sorry TAC, I still am cautious about using some words, so just erased "abortion" from that sentence. I did just add it here though.

And just like how I, and most folk, give importance and weight to words, so do we as humans indulge in the sometimes selfish luxury of assigning "meaning" and "cause" to things that "just happen".

Diseases just happen. Sunshine just happens. You just "happen" to find ten dollars in your jeans pocket. Good things happen, and bad things happen. They don't really "mean" anything other than you have to deal with them.

Winter Solstice is the shortest day, and the longest night. Like all stellar phenomena, many folk in history assign "meaning" to this event, like its a time to celebrate, a time to fear, or a time to atone for past sins or plan for future joys. I am sad to say that it really doesn't MEAN anything. Its just something that happens. There is no God out there looking to punish or reward me for being good or bad, No Jolly Fat Man handing out presents (except my dad), and no all encompassing "Fate" that is directing me through this life so that "Karma" can be fulfilled.

All of that seems rather dour, of course. People have been searching for the Meaning of Life even BEFORE that great Monty Python joint of the same name, and here comes Robbyblog (right down Robbyblog Lane) to tell you yet again that there is no meaning to it.

Well, I still believe (and encourage you to as well) in a meaning to my life, but not the random events IN my life. Treating people well and being kind is still its own reward, and not some way to keep a cosmic scorecard. Being a jerk, well, that engenders its own penalties without worrying about whether the Universe will mete out its judgement against you. The Universe could care less.

So although there is no "meaning" to why Yahweh has decreed that we must live in a long darkness on this day, I will still use this night as a marker and a checkpoint to take a look around and perhaps usher in a time of dedication for me to my friends, my family, and my family to be. Work, you are still out of luck. :)

I stared into the Abyss...

2006-12-20T04:28:00.000-08:00

..and the Abyss crawled into my lap, and tweaked my nose.

Hello everyone, it sure has been a long time temporally and a long way metaphysically from the last time I posted. Maybe it is my new glasses, maybe it is a new late thirties growth spurt, but I feel like a new man. Tall, pretty and capable.

What happened, you may ask? Well, a few weeks ago, we found out that our unborn baby has the Spina Bifida. Basically, the baby has a hole in its spine, and a bunch of neural networking is hanging out of there. Said hanging pulls and puts some pressure on the brain, and pretty much scares the little baby Jeebus out of yours truly.

We talked before we got pregnant, the Goodely Wyfe and I, and I remember stating, and her hearing, that having a child with special needs was my worst nightmare ever. I can be honest with you that even though I have been around handicapped kids and adult enough in my life, they always scared me, gave me the wigguns and even creeped me out. Here I was now, faced with the idea that I would be the parent of a special needs child, one that could be in a wheelchair for the rest of its life.

Yeah, see that? "Its" life. I tried to distance myself, considering the options that were before us. The doctors, counsellors, specialists, ministers, family and friends all were sympathetic and supportive in what we now faced: Would we terminate the pregnancy, or would be continue?

I sincerely hope that you never have to face this decision. If you do, let me know, and I will tell you how it went for us. I will not relate now however, the things that were said, the tears that were shed or the heartbreak that we went through to get to where we are now, as we have made our decision, and are going to move forward into the future confident that the decision we made was the right one.

Papa don't preach, we are going to keep our baby! :)

Giggles may be born without the ability to walk, but (s)he will still be born, loved, cherished and respected as the wonderful little bundle of joy that (s)he is. It wasn't an easy decision, and it won't be easy to be special needs parents, but then again, from what I understand, it isn't easy to be any kind of parent.

I guess what tipped the balance was a little girl we met named Brianna, a toddler with Spina Bifida similar to what Giggles is diagnosed with, who was able to use her wheelchair at age two, was cheeky, all up in our faces, delightful and positively engaging and precious. If the Abyss was my fear of not being man enough to care for a special needs child, Brianna pretty much let me know that she would like to be my friend, if not my daughter, and that if I hung out with her for just a few minutes more, she would love me.

Yes, Giggles may not walk like you or me, but (s)he will certainly be able to play games, go to the renaissance faire, sing with pirates, climb with her Aunty Hulahoop, eat dirt and cuddle at night. Forgive me if the blog here becomes a bit "spina bifidacentric" as we move forward, but obviously, its going to be on our minds quite a bit in the future.

They just don't make enough....

2006-12-06T07:09:00.000-08:00

Christmas lights to satisfy me! Great googly moogly, I have like a thousand up already at the ole Clutterhut, and I show no signs of stopping. Hopefully, I can get some photos when it is all said and done. I know, I am always promising photos, and so far....zippy.

If you need me, I will be festively festooning foliage for freedom! Alright, for the holidays, but that didn't work with my alliteration.

Oh, hey, I was thinking as I was stringing and restringing lights yestereve...how about we all try to borrow a tradition from another land, and incorporate that into our celebrations? You wacky Jews, go out and hang some pretty lights, and I will learn some of your songs and get a (watch this goy spelling) manorrah! I think I will see how the Chinese and the Muslims celebrate this season, and try to bring all that together. Couldn't hurt, and perhaps it will add even more facets to our holiday jewel!

Not a sermon.....lol

Family, the Great Equalizer.

2006-12-04T05:25:00.000-08:00

How can I have so much fun with so many people that I have so little in common with?

It was an amazing Thanksgiving this year, so amazing that it is taking me this long to actually post about it. The charge and buzz surrounding the carving of the turkey and the enjoymentof the marshmallow mashed sweet potatoes at the small and intimate gathering of thirty three or so screaming EyE-talians this year was due the following day's planned trip to beautiful Las Vegas, Nevada.

That is correct, faithful reader, (and I thank the faithful out there what bear under the strain of my very inconsistent updates) we went to Las Vegas for the second of Cousin Jeff's bachelor parties on Black Friday. It was an incredible trip, and so much fun to laugh and giggle about in front of our wives and girlfriends at the dinner table. Our spouses and significant others trust us, of course, but at the same time, what is the fun of being naughty if you aren't perceived as being more naughty than you plan on being? We snickered, sniggered and giggled like conspiratorial jackals in some animated movie.

The trip itself was inspired. As the seven of us boarded the plane, I took a look around at this motley of fools and started thinking, dangerous, I know, but the thoughts came nonetheless. With the exception of Cousin Marc, who was my friend before he became my cousin, I really doubt that any of us would have met, let alone become close enough to travel together without having our grandmother's uterus in common. I know that any group of men can get together in the cause of the bachelor party and have a really good time without knowing each other, but here were six guys that, no matter how much we kid each other and make fun of each other, these guys HAD MY BACK no matter what. We were all aware of each other, and meeting up, tracking each other down and playing together came so naturally and effortlessly that you would have thought we had been doing it for thirty or forty years. Oh, wait, we HAVE been doing this for thirty or forty years.

Friends and lovers come and go, but it seems that the power of this particular family binds us all together with commitment, intention and heck, yes...even love. The best part of the trip for me was having the Big Dinner at a Maggiano's in Las Vegas. yes, maybe i travelled a few thousand miles to have dinner with my cousins in a chain restaurant in a shopping mall, but to be honest, I would travel much farther, and at greater expense to be in a shabbier location, as long as I could share the table with this fine group of men, all of which I have so little in common with, but love so much.

Leaving, on a Jet Plane

2006-11-17T06:31:00.000-08:00

or "picking through the bones of your friends"

A dear friend of mine is moving this January. Not just "moving", but "selling all my stuff, packing up the wee bit that is left and going to LONDON ENGLAND for 6 years" moving. It is a very big deal, and has set me teensy brain train all uncoupled, with each car heading down different tracks. I am not sure if all the bridges are out or not, but seeing on how we are rapidly hurtling to the end of this metaphor, I will let it rest and get on to the post:

It has been an amazing process to participate in helping my dear friend move away from me. I know the world is small, and that he will be back, and I will go there, so it isn't a "loss" of friendship that has me shaken, and stirred. It is more the idea of the grand adventure that has me dreamy and a little sad. He is embarking on a voyage of discovery, or renewed possibilities, of vast untapped potential. It is very scary, but also very amazing.

As the Goodely and I talk about the future and the Giggles, I am getting closer and closer to the early arrival of my mid life crisis. The conversations that we have sound more similar to "This is the first day of the end of your life" than talk about new horizons and new frontiers. Maybe it is the Pinot VERY Noir talking, but I cannot help but look around me and feel that I didn't "make it" as successfully as I might have. Taking stock is ne'er a good thing for me to do, but watching a good friend, one of my closest, embark on this "restart" of his life has me doing more introspection than is comfortable.

Then again, when "I looka round the round world" (Elwood!) , I wonder if one of the main things my friend is off in search of isn't precisely the thing that I have. We talk of resonance, of belonging, of security and happiness. The Traveller has told me that he just doesn't resonate with Washington DC, he feels unsettled and square peggy here. I, on the otherhand, feel quite at home here, and VERY at home with my Goodely Wyfe, my friends and my job. I have been very successful in that regard. Sure, Robbyblog, you say that on the shining crisp and clear sunny day today...lets see what you post the next time it rains!

So many notions, the next of which is this: I went through the Traveller's belongings, and took the stuff that interested me the most. We stood in his house, drank his Scotch and all the while the Traveller was describing his belongings and how much he wanted me to have them. I knew then that I would not be in his house again, not sit by his fire, not live there for a fortnight during the Time of Darkness. He has some awesome stuff, rest assured, and I filled my car with his things, but it was a bittersweet pillaging. My hesitation was obvious at the fore, but the Traveller then told me, "Who better to have these things? Who else will appreciate and love them as I did (and may still do)?" In my mind's eye, I also thought of myself as Steward for the Traveller's things..that although he is leaving, some of his belongings, charged with his energies, will still remain here, grounded and useful.

After all, who else is going to appreciate all the rennfaire garb, swords, bows and a 200 volume Dungeons & Dragons collection more than me?

Hmm....more than me and all of my friends? Ha!

So, to The Traveller.....Goddess grant you speed, luck and may your road bring you all the health and happiness that you can stand. Take us with you, as we hold that part of you here in our hearts and souls. We love you, sir.

/cry

Lifetime....

2006-11-15T18:27:00.000-08:00

I have reached the coveted Lifetime Membership in Weight Watchers, having lost some 30 pounds, and keeping it off for the maintenance period of six weeks. All told, it has been about 20 weeks of intent and determination, but then again also fun and hijinx along the way. A big "Thank You" goes out to all those folk what helped me on my journey to a fitter, happier, more vain Robbyblog....vain so much so that he posts nude photos of himself on his blog:

Not too shabby for a 38 year old married guy. If I keep this up, I think Santa will have the much sought after "visible abdominal muscles" for me at Yuletide.

While the Wyfe's Away....

2006-11-03T05:37:00.000-08:00

The Wyfe Shall Play?

Apparently, a "professional convention" involves going to seminars, two or three parties, then going out to dinner at ten o'clock at night! Go Goodely, Go!

Here is my Rockstar Wyfe, earning a $100 bet by dancing on the go-go platform. Ladies and Gentlemen, fold up those dollar bills!

Look at her go!

The High Brrr Nation.

2006-10-26T07:52:00.000-07:00

Hello folksies!

Here we are, in the final days before the big Halloween Party at the Clutterhut, and then we face the long dark of winter. I think my blog is getting fairly repetitive, as we revisit different themes at each of the seasons.

Each year, I picture myself hunkering down and hiding for the months of winter, doing some reading, and basically taking myself out of the game to relax and regroup. As my majestic "now how the hell did he get to be college aged" younger cousin is fond of saying, "Oh yeah? How's that working out for you?"

I am happy to report, that it never works out well. I have plans for every weekend well into January, and as that is where my calendar runs out, there is no reason to believe that this trend won't continue. I am running roleplaying games for my friends, going on a "formal dress" trip to see Casino Royale (hmm...maybe the Commish will let me borrow a tux?) and going to Las Vegas with the Cousins for yet another bachelor party for Cousin Jeff.

December and the related holidays have me booked for party after party (with subsequent after parties?) with friends and family. Hmm...maybe Febrary will be a good month to hunker way the heck down. Then again, I was hoping to have a formal masquerade that month.

I guess I will hunker down after Giggles is born (furious wood knocking noises follow) and in the meantime, keep making with the frenetic social circling. See you all soon!

Best. Pub Sing. Ever.

2006-10-22T17:58:00.000-07:00

I have returned from the last night of the Maryland Renaissance Festival, and let me tell you, it was a great one! I couldn't have asked for a better day, nor a more magical ending. Did I use "nor" correctly? I have been dying to for days. Well, that and other grammatical sticky wickets aside, let me see if i can sum up a very, very nice day.

For one, it was supposed to rain. Didn't! The sky was lovely, the temperature delightful and the breeze just enough to let you know the end of faire was nigh. Did I use "nigh" correctly?

I went on my own. From what I have told everyone, being alone makes me sad. I tend to hole up, and peek out at the world from deep in my trapdoorspideresque lair. I wandered a bit, stopped by to see my new friend, listened to her play the dulcimer, sing this incredibly lovely gaelic song, bothered her a bit at work, then went on my way to occupy my time. Well, apparently I am enough of a regular at this place where I don't really need to make formal arrangements with people to have a good time. From merchants to jousters, from friends and family, I wasn't alone for very much of the day at all!

In fact, I was so not alone that I found myself caught up in other peoples agendas, and saw the festival through their eyes. I shopped for clothes, did the archery (why have I never done the archery before? I love the archery!!) and bought a rose for someone, which I really never, ever do (see, "new friend" above).

I had a very good time learning and laughing with all of my new tour guides that day, but when it came time for Pub Sing, I stamped my little foot, and said "Thats it, this is where I will be!". Pub sing was wonderful. So many great performers, so much evocative music. It was so easy to get all hypnotized by everyone on stage, the are captivating and alluring. I got hit on by women on all sides, which was lovely and reaffirming, and was swept up in the whole emotion of the end of faire. They closed many times, a few times with different versions of the gaelic song that the above mentioned new friend hawtness sang at the start of faire. Very Alpha-Omega-ey.

I cried, but just enough. One of my most favourite quotations is from Gandalf, which I shall butcher for you now:

"I will not say 'Do not weep', for not all tears are a sorrow."

And though a lot of those Irish pubby songs are pretty sad and sentimental, I cried just for the beauty of them, and not because I myself was sad. I am sure I might have been sad had I not the big Halloween Party on the horizon, or my trip to Vegas with the cousins, or any of the thousand points of light that I have in my life right now to be happy about. yes, Faire is over for this season, but it will be back again before I know it. My life, however, is moving along at a wonderful pace, and I thank all of you for that.

Start Spreading the News...

2006-10-19T04:48:00.000-07:00

I don't know how many of you we told, or who we haven't told yet, but Talley and I are now going public....we are pregnant again!

That's right, true believers! Not just that any old run of the mill "just got knocked up" pregnant either. This one is the full bore, IN THE SECOND TRIMESTER and looking good fetal cluster residing comfortably in my wife's snuggly womb.

We beta test named "her" Giggles, even though we don't know the sex yet. I fully intend to find out, and tell everyone, but the Goodely doesn't want to know yet. Of course, I don't intend to tell her, but discretion of any kind has ne'er been my long suit. After all, when we are out shopping, and I see one of those little crushed velvet dresses at Christmas time and start bawling, I might reveal my hand there. If it is a girl, that is, which would be loverly.

So, cross your fingers, friends and lovers, we have just six months to go until our due date of April 28th. If the Goodely can hang on to the baby for a few extra days, she can give birth on her birthday of May 1, and wouldn't that be something nice?

The most perfect day, ruined by drink.

2006-10-15T11:03:00.000-07:00

You can look through my blog and find many happy references to my multitudinous experiences with alcohol. Yesterday, unfortunately, was not one of those occasions.

It all started out happily enough, at the Maryland Renaissance Festival, where many of my happy drinking stories tend to begin. I am not sure what happened this time, what cosmic cocktail concoction cleverly combined was the source of my curtailed festivities, but everything was going just fine, when "wham!", it did seem as if everything alcoholic I had ever imbibed surged up into my brain at once, and I was rendered compleatly unable to function at all.

Getting drunk is fun, getting this drunk ruined my day. I was out with my best friends, on a perfect day, in a land of merriment and festivities, and I had to be taken home early by one of the aforementioned friends before I embarrassed myself further. I had many plans for that day, many maidens to woo and court, one pyrate lady to moon over and many friends to connect and reconnect with. I was able to satisfy little of my agenda for the day.

Sure, I have been staggeringly drunk before, but not too too often at the expense of a continued good time. I usually have reserved the worst of it for "after" the fun and frivolity, not cutting it off right when it was getting good. It is times like this when a man such as myself takes stock in his actions and choices, holding up the mirror to himself, probably a bit too critically, and make some rash and overblown resolutions about moving forward.

Well, I am going to do my best NOT to judge myself based on this incident, but just be a bit more guarded as we move forward. I have learned many things in the last few months about myself, about having discipline, and about my own worth that will help me to move forward. I may not have a full blown "drinking problem", but yesterday I did indeed have a "problem with drinking", one that i do not wish to repeat in the future, but being the flawed man that I am, I most likely will. With any luck, it will not be for some time. Bitten yet again, mayhap I shall be a bit more shy.

Halloween!

2006-10-12T16:26:00.000-07:00

Hey gang! Come and check us out for the Annual Halloween Party! Tell your friends and loved ones....as we love meeting new people, especially in costume!

A Shadow of my Former Self

2006-10-11T16:37:00.000-07:00

How are you, Blogosphere? Me? I am doing quite well, thank you very much.

I have reached my goal weight at Weight Watchers. You are reading the words of a 169.2 pound man, and opposed to the "tickling the beanbag of 200 pounds" man what started typing notes 15 weeks ago. It has been a wonderful journey, and I am very proud of myself for being on this end of my weight loss.

Let's face it, I have NO DISCIPLINE of any kind. This was an amazing journey of discovery for the RobbyBloggy, as I do not compleat projects and seldom do I attain goals. I wonder what else I can do?

Well, Small Press Expo is this weekend, the place where last year I vowed that THIS year I would have a table, and be selling my self-published comic book. That goal, well, it didn't turn out so great. What Weight Watchers has taught me about myself though, is that there is no need to give up those goals. Just because I never lost weight before didn't mean that I couldn't do it now, so just because I never published a comic book doesn't mean I can't now.

um...right?

I'll post some nudes when I get some free time! ;)

Lon Goverdue, Fishmonger Extraordinaire.

2006-10-09T03:32:00.000-07:00

Whew! I am a little surprised that we have come through unscathed, happy and hale. Like Bilbo said, "I feel like too little butter, spread over too much bread."

Well, this buttery hobbit had all the butter needed to cover the gluten laden goodness that was this weekend. The extended dance remix started out poorly, resulting in both me and the Goodely having to take Friday off, but all that ended well as well (as well as well) and we spent the rest of Friday cuddled up on the sofa watching Deadwood. The series is amazing, the language foul, and the experience of the cuddle wonderful and warm.

Saturday dawned early, grey and rainy. It also dawned without my active spectating, as I slept in until 11am or so. Upon rousing my sleepy form, I went about chores and tasks around the Clutterhut in an attempt to get it ready not only for my parent's imminent arrival, but for the big Hallowizzle as well. The Goodely tells me that i accomplished quite a bit, but I am having a tough time seeing it, there is still SO much left to do!

With so many unfinished chores to attend, there is only one thing for us to do...throw a dinner party on Sunday for 6 or 7 of our closest friends! And therein finally lay the point of the blog entry. We were terribly unprepared for this party, but rallied, and made a good showing of it. We roasted a lovely chicken, folk brought desserts and wine, and we had a lovely, lovely time. If you wait until you are ready for any of the fun things in life (dinner parties, marriages, children) you will NEVER do them! Do you think I actually have a handle on this giant halloween party I try to throw every year? Heck no....but I do it anyway, because, well....why not?

Sure, we ended up dirtying every plate, serving dish, glass, silverware and bakeware that we have in the house, and my kitchen currently looks like Bag End "before" the dwarves actually washed anything, but that is a minor price to pay to be able to look out on a full table, and see all those smiling faces looking back at me and at each other. It was wonderful, I impress upon you to try it sometime. It need not be fancy, just gather some folk around you to huddle up against the shorter days that are a comin'! Even small magic like a casual dinner with friends is, well...magic to be treasured.

Here's to doing it all again next week!

My Head is Filled with Flapping Crows....

2006-10-04T11:30:00.000-07:00

How do you do it?

How do you keep all your relationships, bills, careers, emotions, thoughts and abilities straight in your head? I feel like mine is fit to bursting.

Some of it is media input. I have headphones on most of the day, am running a few IM chats, creating 3d models on the computer, and keeping (most of my) clients happy.

I have so many different personas....husband, boyfriend, architect, dwarven hunter, victorian aged game master, son, pirate, blogger, lover, friend, etc.

I live a full life, so full such that I am fit to burst. But, at the same time, I am loathe to cut anything out of my life. I want to be all of these things to myself, and I want more and more. I am in the midst of a growth spurt, where my current metaphysical meatsack cannot hold all the juicy liquid center of amazement that I have to offer to myself and the world.

So I need a way to add more, and keep it all straight (sorry, forward!) in my mind. I am going to look into the meditation clinic around the corner, as I find therapy to be no good for me, simply stirring things up and around for almost no reason whatsoever. I do not need to stir things up in my mind, I feel the desire to organize and store, such that I can easily access any of the different sides to my personality easily and sanely.

What do you do, people, to keep your head(s) on straight?

Y'arr!

2006-09-26T17:22:00.000-07:00

Well, it would seem that the pirate weekend at the Renaissance Faire was a big success. I am just here to try to post photos, so lets see how it goes!

Happy 44 Hours?

2006-09-19T04:40:00.000-07:00

Was that all it was?

My goodness, it was quite a spin, wasn't it, me boyos? I left work for Happy Hour at about 5 pm on Friday, like most of the workforce in a nation seized by terror, and yet did not return to said safe and happy domicile until 11 am on Sunday morning! What am I, back in college?

Well, it sure felt that way, as a small hordeling (moblette?) of my college friends were in town for some big trip or another. Some of these boys I haven't seen in 10 years, some in 15. When planning my little trip to hook up with them, I left everything open, and figured I would get there, chat a little bit, find we had grown too far apart, and head back home, a little sad, but still alright.

Well, true believers, get on the phone right now and start tracking down every maniac you ever went to school with, because in doing so, you will ensure yourself one of the times of your life! We fell right back into old (terrible) habits by night, and by day we talked about every topic on the planet that you could think of.

Washington DC is so wonderfully conducive to ths kind of activity. Again, we spent the days visiting monuments both inspiring and mortifying, and by night, we celebrated our own lives and accomplishments.

Yes, accomplishments. For although we did not fight any of the Great Wars, or dedicate a nation in perpetuity at Gettysburg nor did we ratify anyone's Constitution, still, we had accomplishments. We made a connection in this world to each other, one that has stood a test of time, and had reunited US to a common purpose. What higher goal can there be on this planet than to make a bond with another human being, no matter how much you differ in mindset, energy, interests, whatever? It was amazing to see this energy in action, feed it, watch it grow beyond yourself, beyond the Irish Car Bomb and the random flirty skirt.

We drank, we did little dances, we celebrated marriages, mourned divorces, told our stories over and over again, and sang loudly and into the night.

We were friends, nay, we were more than friends, we were brothers in the true spirit of the word. Thank you gentlemen, and I am looking forward to doing this again in another fifteen years. Perhaps sooner.

Fight the Power (of words?)

2006-09-14T04:37:00.000-07:00

So, we all kind of know that words have power, and that the pen is mightier than the sword. We also kind of know that there are "good" words and that there are "bad" words.

For Example:
Good: Perspicacity, Fellatio, Snuggle, Flapjack, Rockabilly
Bad: Nigger, Cunt, White Trash, Fuck, Wop

I imagine that there was some reaction in you to both the "good" words and the "bad" words. Perhaps some kind of visceral response, conjuring various images in your mind. What I mean to ask you is this: how many of those images were of tasty snacks?

Hopefully not many. Yesterday a lovely young lady sent me an IM asking "Do you know what White Trash is?" I thought it was the set up for a joke, and I braced myself for some low brow humor. It took be by surprise, as low brow is in no way how I would describe this particular friend. She is of the highest of all brows, so what gives?

Upon further conversation, I finally grokked that she was simply asking if I ever had the snack treat called "White Trash" before, which is apparently some form of white chocolate covered trail mix. I wasn't sure how I felt about all of this, and I still don't, hence the blogging. At first, I was a little bothered by the fact that there was a common usage for what is essentially a racial slur against whitey. I mean, it isn't like I am going to locomote across to the local purveyour of tasty comestibles and procure myself a satchel of "Spicks" or obtain for myself in moments of hunger some Swedish Fish and a modicum of "Chinks". Here was further evidence that it was "okay" to denigrate white people, to the point of naming snack treats with racial epithets.

Then I remembered a recent cocktail party that I went to, where another good friend and frequent Robbyblog poster was furthering his campaign to "Take back the C-Word", and had convinced his friends that cunt was just another word, and could be used freely and even jovially. I still cringe whenever I hear it, and can barely bring myself to type it, but I think it is important to the post. That particular word holds lots of power for me, and no matter how much booze I had in me, I couldn't bring myself (regardless of the prodding) to liberally shout "Hey Cunt, can you play that George Washington Video again?". Somehow it just didn't seem right. :)

But again, do the words have the power. It was only MY giving the words White Trash power to be (see, I even capitalized them!) a racial slur that kept my usual witty IM banter from flowing freely like a mountain spring. Did I, happy go lucky Robbyblog, bring that hate to the table? Maybe there is some reverse engineering that can be done with words like this. If we can take "cracker" from being a term to describe a cheese conveyance to a racial slur, can we go the other way with White Trash (capitalized this time for the brand name)? Perhaps if there was a Nigger candy bar, or the Wop became a new dance craze, those words would cease to have negative connotations for folk, and be reintroduced to our society as the harmless words that they actually are.

After all, ANOTHER of my internet girlfriends said that if there was a snack called "Cunts", she would eat a dozen.....or something like that.

Frrrrrrrrunkus!!

2006-09-07T16:46:00.000-07:00

Don't judge a blog by its title, I always say. Is that truly what I always say, or is that just what I say when I have no pithey title for my entries?

Regardless, I have some news and updates. First off, the farm was the absolute treasure that I hoped it would be. M&K have the most lovely 250 acres of land you have ever seen. I successfully cleared my head, and, well, successfully "reconnected" with the Goodely (wink, wink...nudge nudge). All of this was seriously overdue, but all paid back with interest. It was a little tough to return to the Clutterhut that is our own domicile, but I have returned with a renewed sense of domesticity and perhaps some housework initiative.

In other news and updates, I have lost 20 pounds on weight watchers, thus reaching my 10% goal. I weigh in at a lovely 175.5 pounds, and have set my new goal at a muscular 170. I feel the beginnings of the daffodil bulbs of my abdominal muscles ready to poke through the heavily laden snowfall that is my last remaining belly fat at the fist signs of fitness spring. Even if you discounted (which you better not) all the health benefits of this huge undertaking, the psychological implications are even more relevant and helpful to me.

I have learned, in this arena, discipline without sacrifice. I can watch what I eat, and not feel like I am "giving up" anything. This is an important lesson, as I always saw any attempts at discipline (except yellow, of course) involving nothing but sacrifice and giving up things that I enjoy. This is not the case in the Weight Watchers, and I have had Guiness, Cheesecake, ice Cream, etc. yum, yum, yummy yummy yum yum yum!

Also, finishing anything or sticking to a plan of any kind has never been my long suit. I like to think that this makes me dynamic and multifaceted, but mostly it makes me sloppy and ill-initiatived. Well, look at Bob & Lorraine's youngest now....20 frickin' pounds, bitches! That is no small amount of sticktoitiveness, if you don't mind my saying. (which you better not).

I Have Cramps..

2006-08-31T06:13:00.000-07:00

..no, wait....I feel cramped! That's what I was trying to say.

The Goodley Wyfe and I are off to K & M's farm in The Pennsylvania this weekend, and I was trying to noodle through why giving up the BCDFAMTTRFS (Big Crazy Drunken Flirty All Man Trip To The Renaissance Festival Saturday) for this trip wan't bothering me at all. The BC....RFS is a huge affair that we look forward to every year, but somehow, I am not put out by missing it. I know a huge part of it is that the Goodely and i haven't spent much quality time together this season, and i miss her terribly, but there was something else.

I think I got a part of it this morning. I am looking forward to some wide open spaces. All of my recent activities of going to house parties, gaming, gaming conventions and the Renaissance Festival are always filled to capacity with people and things. I love people, I love the crush and the bustle, the bustling crush. there is nothing quite like knowing that hundreds and thousands of people who share your interests are all around you, supporting you and in their own way loving you.

My house is small (but lovely)and quite cluttered to the point where I was going to name it the Clutterhut. It is comfortable and cozy, with no space unused or wasted, but still, it is a Small House. Suziehulahoop, hawty mommy extraordinaire, lives in a doublewide...probably the crampiest of wee spaces, but her double is sited on a beautiful vista near Yosemite National park. Sitting on her deck, one can see...well, as far as the eye CAN see. The view from my porch, yard, window, desk, whatever..is at the most a hundred or so feet.

I still work in cubicle hell. There is nothing redeeming about my space at the office. I have no window, there are walls all around me. I am in a little cell. When I went to Taliesin, to see Frank Lloyd Wright's workspace and office...I had to go "Oh, yes, there is an obvious example of why this man is such a genius" as his workspace was beautiful, open, breezey and spacious. I do not know which was chicken or egg, his studio or his designs, but they had to have gone hand in hand.

Thus, the call to the beach..and the beach in winter. Thus, the call to the mountains, and all their splendour, and thus.....the call to the farm.

K&M's farm is lovely, spacious and grand. I am looking forward to steeling away just before dawn for a bit of a naked hike through the rolling fields and dew kissed grasses. Just to do some quiet sitting somewhere with a view of, well...nothing will be most pleasant. I long to try to fill these wide open spaces with my energy, sending my love out to all those domestic and abroad, and to those who are domestics, and to those what ARE broads.

I am kicking it Green Acres style, faithful reader, so enjoy a pint or seven at the Festival for me, as i will return to you soon, hopefully larger than life itself.

Back to School

2006-08-29T03:50:00.000-07:00

Do we even notice anymore that the kiddies went back to school this week? I remember we went back on September 9th or so, but it seems that here in the Metro DC area, everyone went back today, the 29th of August.

I notice the traffic, of course, and the school buses, and that everyone is back from vacation. But is there excitement? Is there the dread that came with counting down those last few days before school? None of this, of course, had anything to do with actual studying or learning. I had no interest in school, and never did a single bit of homework. How Bob & Lorraine managed to turn a blind eye to that I have no idea, but pirate style, they sure did. What I liked about back to school was that I felt special for that week, and the focus was on me and my brother.

I got a new haircut.
I got new sneakers.
I gots new notebooks.

Yes, yes, there goes my typical American consumerism rearing its ugly, soul gorging head, but still, there was something in the smell of new shoes and notebook paper that plays off Reptile Robby brain that said new horizons were, well....on the horizon.

Don't get me wrong, school was a bucket and a half of suck for me. I was smart, goofy looking and played Dungeons and Dragons. As you can imagine, my initial forays into the education systems were a special kind of horror. Heck, we didn't even get good alternative music until I was 16.

But still, there was anticipation. Maybe this year it would be different. Self delusional maybe, but ever hopeful for that future. More likely than not, the new school year meant that I could bring my Dungeons and Dragons character back out and we would begin playing again in earnest.

So now, the Purple Worm has turned 180 diggities, and my summer vacation was spent playing Dungeons and Dragons, and my "school year" is set with renewed work "stress" (I don't really stress over work, there is just more of it) with everyone coming back to town. Just to make it feel like back to school though, I think I am off to the supply closet to get a new notebook and some supplies.

I wonder if our supply closet has sneakers and haircuts, too?

I Love Drinking!

2006-08-21T08:07:00.000-07:00

First, a Spam Haiku:

"her knees--a bit of muslin torn initiative
predictable of Ahm,
men had given me; but just scissors"

...but just scissors indeed.

Okay, on to the point. I love drinking. For those what know, my father battles alcoholism, rather unsuccesfully, currently and for all his life. At times it was very, very terrible, at times, it was like background noise. You would think with this ever present symbol of the evils of "The Liquor", that I would either practice temperence or be a raving alcoholic myself. Well, raving I may be, but this time for the joys of drinking and how wonderful it can be.

My weekend was liberally peppered than lightly grilled with drinking throughout. The lovely L----- went out for happy Hour drinks on Friday to start things off. How wonderful it was to chat, discuss matter of all degrees of import, from not at all to nigh-all encompassing, but getting a bit more loose and relaxed with each drink. Bless you, lady liquor (snoogans)!

Saturday night found us playing silly card games with a delightful younger couple that we know. Well, A------ and I surely separated the "designated drivers" from the "do not operate heavy machinery crowd" in short order, by skipping meriily with garlands of flowers in our hair past beer, wine and mixed drinks, and going right for shots of the heavy stuff as we played the silliest of silly games.

Sunday too, we had different folk over to play different silly games, and I started drinking when the first guest arrived. I think it relaxed me, loosened me up, and chased away the pregame jitters that I usually get.

Alright, I am not saying here that I need to be drunk to have fun, but heck, I like drinking while I am having fun. So far, things are good, and we don't have the telltale signs of "a Problem", regardless of how many extremely assertive gay men I give my hotel keys to. I also feel like I have enough folk around to set me straight if it does become a problem. Until that day, come along and bring some ice cubes, as my scotch is getting lonely.

Renaissance Man

2006-08-17T09:35:00.000-07:00

And no, this time I am not talking about the sultry Voice.

I mean to say, this is the time when we all look forward to the Maryland Renaissance Faire. I simply get giddier than Aunt Nancy at a Frank Sinatra concert when I think about how much fun this event is.

For those of you that have never been to a Renaissance Faire...tsk tsk. The trumpets blare, the gates open, and you are transported as much as you like to a romantic version of the Renaissance. People are in costumes, merchants are selling their goods, wenches are wenching and dancers are dancing the forbidden dances.

The Maryland Faire is especially wonderful for this reason: Who know's why (I assume the Govenor?) but the official state sport of Maryland is indeed, jousting! That's right, jousting! What this means for you and yours is that the knights in full armor on their fabulous and thundering steeds are doing this "for real, and for keepsies". It is an awe-inspiring spectacle to see gigantic armor clad warriors duking it out, well...Duke of Earl style to win the round, and some maiden's favour.

Oh, and the maiden's favour indeed! Did I mention the corsetted bosom's? No? Silly me. Fabulous corsetted bosoms as far as the eye can see. For the ladies, we have handsome and buckswashing lords all partaking in gentlemanly behavious and practicing the Art of Courting such as you have only read about in novels with Fabio on the cover.

SuzieHulahoop will be happy to tell you how much she enjoys the axe throwing side attractions, the general boozing, and the lovely and sometimes touching Pub Sing. I will tell you how much I love all the different people I can be at just this one faire.

I go by myself, just to pretend I am back in that day, and to be the Calm Spectator amongst the throngs. I go with my Goodely Wyfe, to have a special date, and treat her like the Queen (and sometime like the wench...snoogans) that she is. I go with The Boys. Ah yes, I go with the Boys, to do oyster shooters, hang out in the Wine Garden, and sharpen up my flirting skills on the giant whetstone that is everyone else there that is also "in on the joke". I go with family and friends, to be their Guide through the ages, escorting children and adults, dressed in costume or not, through "my world".

But I go....I go and go and go. You should too. Please come and dance, drink and make the Merry with me.

Flit flitter flit...

2006-08-14T12:37:00.000-07:00

I am fortunate enough to be quite a social butterfly. My calendar books up months in advance, and I am frequently running from one event to another...

AND I LOVE IT!

Thank you all so much for wanting to include me in gaming conventions, family visits, reunions, fairs and festivals, weekend getaways, romantic rendevous (exclusive to the Goodely, naturally), and just casual lunches and drinks with friends. It has been an amazing roller coaster thus far, and I hope we never stop.

Our most recent trip was to GenCon Indy, the big gaming convention of the year. Thousands of people came together to experience "fringe" or "undeground" geeky pastimes. I don't know what your social strata was or is, but many of these folks (including myself) did not look like the fringe of anything!

It was amazing. Certainly there were folks from my herd of geeks, dorks and nerds, but there were also families, senior groups and hordes of "cool kids" running around playing games. We play constantly when we are are born and start life. We are encouraged to "Go play" by our parents. Somewhere though, we begin to stop playing. "Stop playing and do your schoolwork" "Stop messing around with that game and do the dishes" become the new buzzphrases.

Of course schoolwork and clean dishes are important. Far be it for the Robbblog to advocate a bunch of simpletons running around with a sink full of foul dishware. All we are saying here is that playing is JUST AS IMPORTANT as all the serious stuff.

Stop reading, and go play! When you do, give me a call, and we can play together!

Spam Haikus

2006-08-08T06:37:00.000-07:00

I am double dipping today, make sure you look down for the "My Birthday" post below!

F*ing Narcissict!

I am pushing my birthday notification down because my spam mail has taken on a new and interesting persona. Beat Poetry.

I have changed my Outlook at work to show a preview pane of my mail below the Inbox. They tell me this is bad, because technically, the programme is opening up all the mail in order to show this preview. If a spammer knows you are opening the spam, they will send you more, yes? Well, that's alright, as I can ignore it all pretty easily.

Or can I? The latest round of spam seems to include some wisdom of the music of the spheres attached to the offers to make my mortgage smaller and my penis bigger, two things they should be selling to my Goodely Wyfe, as she can most benefit from both of these offers.

But no matter! Read from the spams I have received today:

"the immediate vicinity of successful camp.
was beyond scarf my capability.
from our would "apartment,"

...from our would apartment indeed.

And this gem, the legend of bill Caspak

"bill Caspak harbored instruction
bow in upon us. The man above
so far as we know, wedding at other times. There was"

There was? There was, indeed.

I hope I get more of these gems. They make me smile, but then again, most everything makes me smile on my birthday (another shameless plug).

Its my Birthday!

2006-08-08T04:27:00.000-07:00

Huzzah!

Here I am, dressed to the eights (nines and tens I will save for the apres work party) and sitting at my desk at work. Work, work?! On one's birthday? Yes gang, I am at work on my birthday, but to be honest, this is where lots of my friends are, and a very social arena for me to engage in fivolous gladitorial combat.

The members of the Dream Pod (my little cubicle enclave) and I are off to the Diner fairly soon to have a little "Robert's Birthday Edition of Going to the Diner." For lunch, a good friend who is not a coworker and a good friend what is a coworker and I going out to lunch. This evening, another group of wonderful and beautiful people are coming to my home to play, perhaps unknowingly, a silly game called Munchkin. Today will be a good day. I will also be staying up all night to play video games, as I leave at 5:30 am tomorrow for GenCon Indy. Since someone else is doing the driving, I might as well sleep the whole way!

I get frequent comments like "You are 38? I thought you were much younger!" and I always say thank you in return. I wonder though. Is it my youthful appearance? Is it my low threshold for joy that incurs this feeling in others? Is it my lack of accomplishments in my work and financial stability that brings these comments about? The Chief Financial Officer of our firm is also 38. He is a good natured happy man with a nice house, a great job and his two daughters are beautiful.

I have to remember the words of the great Ty Webb when he was asked about not keeping score by Judge Smails.

Smails: "Well, Ty, how do you measure yourself against other golfers?"

Webb: "By height."

So yes, maybe the CFO is also taller than me, but in some ways that is just as arbitrary a measurement as money, children or position in a firm. He may be taller in these ways as well, but I would imagine that I am wider in many others. I am thankful today that I don't have much more time than right here, right now to do the reflections on this day, and this year. I am smart, pretty and tall, and about as accomplished as a fella can hope for.

Thanks for coming by, and perhaps wishing me well. As we all move forward to "whatever comes next", we can do it happy in the knowledge that we move from a place of "exactly where we needed to be" to "exactly where we were supposed to be going", regardless of who stands taller or shorter, wider or thinner, along the way.

Strictly Speaking...

2006-08-01T07:09:00.000-07:00

I am not a very strict person, and do not work well with very set schedules. However, I am always fascinated by the regimented and by the well planned amongst us. I make every effort to be on time to the best of my ability, but I also like to ebb and flow when and where I can. Spur of the moment indulgences and flights of fancy make me very gleeful in my daily life.

Have I mentioned the restlessness and the theory of balance that I think is the underlying theme of my whole existence? it is good to touch back on that from time to time.

STOP READING IF YOU ARE EASILY OFFENDED BY TALK OF A SEXUAL NATURE!!!!!!

Getting that out of the way, I mention all this because I find myself on a strict ejaculation schedule this week. The Goodely Wyfe and I are back in the saddle of artificial insemination, the IUI if you remember previous posts. Part of the process is to very closely monitor her Season Cycles and determine when her eggs drop, so as to plan the best time for insemination.

My role, as we have discussed earlier, is minor in scope but major in implications. I currently carry a virtual doctors' writ for intercourse with said Goodley Wyfe, to take place upon the 2nd of August. Should all go well, I have another official Writ of Masturbation for the 4th of August. This is all very funny, as anything that is rather awkward tends to be.

The toughest part of the "procedure" isn't rallying the necesary spontaneity required for "forced" copulation or the yen to masturbate in a clinical cubicle, it is actually the lonely and dark spaces in between each of those events, where I have to abstain. Now, as we all know, abstinence, and the spelling thereof, has never been my long suit. Add to this how devilishly handsome I have been looking lately coupled with the fact that I am losing weight at a wonderful rate, and you see my dilemna! I can't keep my hands off of myself!

And why, I ask, would anyone? Our arms are this length for a darned good reason, people..so we can get ourselves off! In the bedroom, the living room, the restrooms at work. In the car, on a boat, in a bus, on a yak! Go boys and girls, go and enjoy yourselves! I would like to say that as you do, please think of me, but for some of you, that might make your genitals cringe like a frightened hermit crab pulling back into its shell. All I can say is that as I face the long dark of a full 48 hours without bonking the bishop, I encourage you to use this, my dearest sacrifice, as payment for your sins, allowing you to recognize how precious a gift self stimulation is. Go forth into that gentle night, dear readers, and with a cry of "This one's for you, RobbyBlog!" enjoy the wondrous gift of your own body.

Do this, in memory of me.

From the blog that dares to ask:

2006-07-27T05:34:00.000-07:00

"Is it okay to stare at a hot woman's heiny when she is working the Stairmaster in front of you?"

These and other hard hitting investigations to follow. Needless to say, the above rhetorical rhetoric implies that I am back in the gym. I loves me the gym. I am doing the cardio, which basically means wheezing and sweating, but also catching up on some light reading. Current book: Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince. I read it months ago when it came out, but burned through it so quickly to find out "who died" that I remember very little of the actual book.

I start with about a half hour on the treadmill, a half hour on the elliptical and a half hour on the exercise bike. On the treadmill and the exercise bike, I can read, and be gleeful. On the elliptical, I cannot read my book, as all of my limbs are a pumping away, thus allowing my mind, and apparently my eyes, to wander.

In my efforts to not paste the young lady's derriere with my ocular focus, I started daydreaming and looking around the gym. I looked at the bank of televisions mounted just a little too far away for me to read the closed captioning, but the point of the current commercial ad was clear. The new notebooks were coming out!

Forget the notion that it is far too early for that kind of thing, as I have already seen fall fashions and Halloween supplies in the local stores. No, dearest reader, remember that we were daydreaming, and my mind immediately wandered to one of the lifelong regrets of my adolescent life. That I had never owned a Trapper Keeper notebook.

Oh, how I longed for the Trapper Keeper. Its minimal amount of paper, its multicoloured folders, its trapping and or keeping prowess would surely turn me from the disinterested unfocused geek that I was into the most amazingly smart and handsome MAMS (Man About Middle School) that I wanted to be. But alas, it was not to be.

Everyone had Nikes, we had Pumas, everybody had Levi's, we had Wranglers, everyone had these big fat plastic combs. I didn't even know where you could buy them. They were ridiculous times, but ooooo...how I wanted that notebook.

And then it hit me. I currently don't have the best of anything in the material, consumer arena. I do, of course, have the BEST Wyfe, and the BEST friends ever. Sorry to disappoint, but my Wyfe and friends are red-hot, and yours ain't doodly squat. Returning focus on the material, I don't drive a swanky car, live in an expansive demense or own the bleeding edge technology. I look back on my upbringing and the travesty that was visited upon me by not being able to have the Trapper Keeper and it hit me like a thunderbolt.

Son of a Gun, not having those things actually BUILT CHARACTER!!!

Jerks! How dare they! It dawned on me that I didn't need multi coloured folders and binders to organize my life, that I currently don't need the latest phone, camera, printer or Mac to get things done. Maybe they taught me to be a low expectation having slacker, but maybe they taught me to be happy with what I do have. Its was tough to think the final ramifications through, as that spandex bouncing bottom before me coupled with my imminent blackout from energetic elliptical exertions kept me from doing much soul searching, but there you go. Think about this one yourselves.

Oh, and Dumbledore dies at the end of Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince. So there.

The Chrononaught has Returned

2006-07-17T14:36:00.000-07:00

And he is safe as houses.

The reunion was an amazing success, from this writers' perspective. Friday night found us driving the almost eleven hours to Rhode Island in relative comfort and ease, arriving at 3:30 a.m. or so. Yes, there was some snarkiness, but the Goodely and I had kind of a rough week, so there was bound to be trouble double.

With that behind us, and checking into the recently flooded but still mouldering smouldering Nicholson Suite at the The Shining hotel, I found myself awake at 7:30 am or so, no alarm necessary thank you very much, so much was my excitement. I rushed to Cousin Marc's room, where I played with his kids and tried to rush everyone out the door as soon as the Goodely Wyfe arrived, following in the trail of kicked up dust and mold that was all which was left in the wake of my rampant enthusiasm.

Well deserved, by the way! The events were wonderful, and varied. I have the feeling of Saturday being one of the longest days of my life, but long in a fun, fun way!

The main point I want to get out here today is not how swanky my college got (it got WAY swanktified) or how beautiful and underappreciated by me at the time the surrounding towne of Bristol, Rhode Island is. No, what I really want to get out is something that comes at a good time for the RobbyBlog. The reinforcement of the subtitle of this very blog.

"An ordinary life well lived."

This point was really brought home in my response to the obvious question that I really had no preparation for, but should have assumed was coming.

"So, Robert, what have you been doing for the last fifteen years?"

And I just kind of looked blankly back, all puppy style, with no answer.

No, I haven't climbed the Matterhorn or created my own earthship rammed earth tire house or have been published in any periodicals. Yes, I have seen the Grand Canyon, the Cloud Forest of Costa Rica, and went on a double date with the Pidgeon Sisters to San Francisco. I have fallen in love, the most noble of all goals, and have passed through times when I thought that love was lost. Yes, I have held the hearts and hands of many people during periods of intense mourning, the most shocking of course being the death of the three year old son of one of the aforementioned Pidgeon Sisters, and the most touching and sad being the passing of their Grandmother. I have met wonderful people, stars of stage, stars of their own personal limelight. I have performed, spectated, and lived...well.

To sum up an ordinary life well lived over the course of a decade and a half cannot happen over a hotdog and a beer at the reunion picnic. It cannot be quantified or qualified at the fancy dinner, nor can it be related to folks during barhopping to Gillary's. All one can do is kind of nod, give a wry smile, and reply with a simple,

"Oh, you know, about the usual stuff, and yourself?"

And with that, you kind of realize that this person across from you has been on their own amazing and varied journey through the ages. They have also loved, lost, explored both outside and in, connected, been disconnected and has been a part of all the life changing events that you have been through. You then form a silent connection that bonds you together again.

And guess what? On some level, this person across from you took YOU with them on their journey, just as you took them on yours. You don't travel Spacehip Earth alone, you take everyone you have ever met with you. I took some physical objects on my journey, of course...Richard's bowtie for example and the kind words written down by Chris in my final crit. I also took Mike's (Frank's) amazing and open friendship, Ron's brusque honesty and the support and kindness of my entire graduating class. I didn't realize that until I saw them all again. I feel a bit of obligation to them, as I move forward now to the next decade and a half. They have a bit of me with them now, a clearer, more updated piece of me that they will think about from time to time as they live their "ordinary" (I say extraordinary!) lives.

Remember this when you reconnect with people, and also when you meet them for the first time. On some level, they will take you, and their experience of you, with them on their journey through time and space. What kind of companion do you want to be for them? I know who I want to be, and I enter this next phase of my life with renewed vigor to be that person for you all.

Time traveling Yet Again...

2006-07-12T06:41:00.000-07:00

I have this friend, let's say for the sake of anonymity, his name is Cavid Dopeland. Cavid is a great guy, I love him to death, and he is one of the most serene and "hep cat" like characters I have ever met. He might be the last person in the world to tell you how cool he is, but that puts the cool factor up a few notches, doesn't it?

Cavid spends a lot of our time together walking down memory lane, reminiscing if you will, about things that were done, things that could have been done better, and things that were also done better but not quite as better as the other things that were done slightly better than not done at all. Kickboxing, ever heard of it?

I think about Cavid as I ponder this weekend's activities. I am going to my (gasp) 15 year College reunion. Now, like the "so hip you can hardly see his pelvis" (1) Cavid Dopeland, I also like to reminisce, but my stories are typically from the recent past, and anything referenced to college or before is coloured with "oh, one time, a thousand years ago in college, we..." and whatever comes after. Add to all of this the fact that I never go back to ANYWHERE that I have made connections for any reason, and well, you can see where I might have some bittersweet anticipation or even anxiety about this trip.

All at once, I am H.G.Wellsing it through time and place in the old gooey mass that is my brain. I see college as being SO long ago, but at the same time, the lessons I learned there (all out of the classroom, btw...I barely graduated! ssshhh..don't tell anyone) are still so vital and powerful in me that the slightest hint of association brings forth the emotions and impressions of that time so powerfully, I feel like that same young 20 somethings screwball kid that I was at the time.

Do the math, as in a few weeks I will be a 38 year old screwball kid still trying to make his way in this crazy mixed up world. Do I really want to tour the campus where I loved, laughed, cried, created and hacky sacked my way through 5 years of my life? Do I want to do all of this with the Goodley in tow? She is by far the best thing that ever happened to me, but she happened after this era of my life. I get the impression that I will be acting like a tourguide for her and for my Cousin Amy (now married to an ex college buddy) as we walk through a section of the museum of Robbyblogs' life. How much will I leave out? Those of you that know me understand I have almost no discretionary prowess, and then again, why would I leave anything out? Certainly I cannot be blamed for "grabbing two cocktail waitresses and pulling a Fredo" (2) while at college, as I didn't even know that the concept of the Goodely Wyfe existed. But we shall see what stories are told and when.

I know I never told you all about my Chicago trip (which was fabulous, thank you very much) but I will try my best to let you know how the reunion goes. I am sure, like everything else is life, it will go much better than I expect. One day, I will actually expect things to be great, and they will be, and on that day, I am buying the drinks!

(1) Douglas Adams, Zaphod Beeblebrox referring to himself. Other appropriate quotes include "I am so cool, you could store meat in me for weeks.", and "I find cooler things than you in my breakfast cereal."

(2) Was this Vince Vaughn from Swingers? Referencing of course, the character Fredo from the Godfather

Men, you really have to love us...

2006-07-10T10:25:00.000-07:00

The Goodely Wyfe had a little party for all her young and hot coworkers this weekend, and we all sat and drank and ate and chatted on the Front Porch. I capitalize that because it deserves it. The Front Porch, or Frontizzle Pozizzle, as the kids never say, has become our favourite place in the house, and was lovely and wonderful as one could imagine.

But I am not here to talk about the Front Porch, but more about something that was said and discussed ON the Front Porch. We had just finished eating, and one of the young lovelies said to me, "Robert, the burgers were excellent, thank you!" To which I promptly replied "You are very welcomed." As my usual polite knee jerk reaction.

But then I paused, ever so slightly, before launching into the following diatribe:

"You know, we men really have got it going on. Seriously, all we do is make a big, big deal out of the easiest and most innocuous tasks imaginable. What, grilling and minor home repair and fishing are so difficult? My dear, I will have you know that my Goodely Wyfe wrote the recipe, went to the store and bought ingredients, mixed, spiced, mangled and separated each patty into precise 1/4 pound portions, each one then hand crafted, lovingly, using the finest Old World Craftsmanship before placing them on a plate, wrapping them with plastic, and chilling them until go time. Speaking of go time, she also came in, told me when it was time to light the grill and when we should eat.

For my part, I basically went into the yard, slapped them onto the grill, and played with my dog for a little while. After chasing the stick, I went back, flipped said patties, and played with the dog some more. After that, the Goodley came back out with a new plate, I scooped the patties off the grill, and she took them inside. For this, my major part in the procedure, you thank me?"

Yes, I do talk a lot, frequently all at once, and perhaps I had prepared this speech while I was playing with the dog, but the point is clear. Grilling, regardless of what has been told to any of you by anyone, is probably the easiest thing in the whole wide world. So is minor home repair, but after any "typical" male does something like wave a chicken breast at a grill or replace a light fixture, we strut and crow like we just untied the Gordian Knot or beat Stephen Hawkin(g)s in Suduko.

And you know what, ladies? You had better darned well offer up the proper level of over exaggerated praise for your mighty fire cooker and home repair barbarian. There is so little left for us "typical" men to actually conquer that should the little victories not be praised mightily, it could lead to things like Corvette convertibles and hootchie mommas. Save us all the embarrassment, would you please?

Not a sermon, just a thought.

I have joined the crew of the S.S. Weight Watcher!

2006-07-06T07:20:00.000-07:00

Ahoy me hearties!

I have signed up with the Weight Watcher's organization in a further attempt to curtail my policy of ever increasing global expansion. The little old lady that set me on my first steps was delightful, helpful and heck, she even guaranteed success, so you can't really sneeze at that! I was going to make her sign that guarantee in blood, using her "real" name, but she seemed like such a decent sort, I will reserve such dire and arcane methods for another time.

So, dear readers, and those who know me, see if any of this sounds familiar: They gave me a rulebook, a sheet of blank lines where I have to create a resource allocation system, and we have weekly meeting to discuss how the system is working. I felt like we were gaming! It was all too familiar, and fun to try to "break" this game system of caloric intake.

Honestly, I thought at one point if I could add a helping of green beans, I could then take the third level of the Dietary Fiber Discipline, allowing me to attain the Status of "He Who Still Eats Bacon", a coveted position in the milieu, to be sure. I am fully immersed in the 24 hour / 7 Day Diet LARP with thousands of people all across the country.

The system, of course is unfamiliar to me. "Cooking" even something as simple as a smoothie resulted in our kitchen looking like the vanilla banana version of a Jackson Pollack painting, were Mr. Pollack also a speed freak. Sealing gasket? Who needs a sealing gasket? Apparently we all do, at different times, one of those times being, of course, during the creation of the smoothie. The maintenence and structure of our Kitchen is a responsibility which falls squarely on the sturdy but shapely shoulders of the Goodely Wyfe, so I hereby apologize to her for the devastation I suspect is only just beginning. Perhaps I will master the blender...perhaps not.

Bringing lunch to work is going to be awful as far as I can tell, as previously my lunch hours were wondrous culinary adventures of shopping, frivolity and spending. Obviously my waistline and bank account will benefit from restraint, but restraint has never been my long suit, and staying in the office to eat my little sandwich just doesn't seem like "me". Perhaps I can knock back my sandwich and go sit in the bookstore or something. We shall see.

I make no mention of alcohol intake at this time, as I can't bring myself to...to...please, just read on, and leave me with my grief...

So there you go, the lazy days of my hummy summer with be played against the counterpoint of baseline control of fat grams and food point allocation. With any luck though, I will be raking leaves in the Fall with my shirt off, driving the neighborhood Goodleys wild with my new physique. One can only hope!

You have to keep them isolated....

2006-06-28T06:08:00.000-07:00

Hi!

Some amazin' things are going on recently in our urban social development. I am sure this is not an original thought, but take a look at this. The proliferation of MySpace and blogging across the interents has grown like a wild west gold panning town, with folks scrambling all over each other to share their innermost secrets, thoughts dreams, etc., all anonymous givers of information across the technoverse.

Meanwhile, in the real 'verse, folks are withdrawing more and more into themsleves, and cutting ties with real human beings all over. I see it everyday. The iPod re-revolution of the Walkman has brought back the microcosm of armoured personal space, surrounding us with a very visible white cord and headphones license to ignore everyone around us.

I see it in the housing designs and model homes, how we provide in our "dream" houses all the things we used to leave the house to do. Home theatres, bars, basketball and sport courts, pools. These were once social events that we would go out into the world to perform, and now, we can do it all from the comfort of our wombs. I mean homes.

I am one of the biggest culprits in the withdrawl from the real world. My favorite videogame is called World of Warcraft, and entire interactive alternate reality where I have friends, relationships, chores, parties and other vents without ever actually interacting in Face Time with another human being. Its positively amazing.

Please...suprise someone on the streets today. Make that eye contact, say "hello" with your best jaunty smile, and see if you can, for just a moment, make a wee connection with the physical and social world. I really feel that like the Butterfly Effect, just this one little gesture can have major rippling effects, socially, physically and financially. Friendlier neighborhoods attract folk, and the property values will go up just from smiling at your neighbors. Good thing too, as those home theatre wombs don't come cheap.

See you in a week!

Robbyblog

Well, I am feeling much better, thanks...BUT..

2006-06-26T14:23:00.000-07:00

It's been a rough time for our little Robbyblogger. I feel like I am becoming a Grump, in that all of the things that give me joy are also tempered with frump, fef, and hurrumph noises coming from yours truly. I get mad at little babies being born, I have problems with the silliness of Spamalot, I get prickly in my social interactions on my World of Warcraft video game..and well...heck. It seems like everything bothers me.

I am off to a gaming convention in a few days, and I have to say that I am not all that enthused. Maybe this lowered expectation thing will allow me to relax and enjoy it more. I hope so. I would hate to think that I was on the slippery slope to "Grumpy Old Man" hood. I am far too young and handsome to be a grumpy old man.

What to do? I would love to get into a detox program for life right about now. Maybe being out and about with friends this upcoming weekend will afford me the psychiatric feeding that I need to reset the spiritual tripometer. I wil interact with hundreds of people this weekend what have no idea that I am appraoching 40, with no kids, faulty credit and weak resolve to improve. This weekend I will be a vampire lord, a magician, a card game player and most importantly, a good friend and companion to some of the finest folk imaginable.

It all starts with a trip to see the SuperDuperPuperman movie. I saw a special about Supes recently, and why he has always been such an icon for America. One reporter put it such that we can all identify with Clark Kent, and wish we could see more Superman time. This weekend will be my Superman time. When is yours?

An Open Letter of Apology to my Nephew, Jackson.

2006-06-24T15:01:00.000-07:00

Hello Nephew.

This is your Uncle Robby here. I am truly sorry and not a little bit ashamed of my feelings today when I heard that you were born, healthy and hale, and smooth as silk. I had been thinking about you for a very long time (to be honest, I thought you would be a girl) and was anticipating your arrival with bated breath, happiness an joyful expectation.

Imagine my surprise when the news of your arrival brought not the above said mentioned happiness, but almost unendurable pain. I cried, I raged with silent screams and felt not a small amount of outright animosity towards you, your mom and your dad. I will say now that you are very lucky to have them as your parents, as two more loving and faithful people i have yet to meet, but even with that, I raged against them, and against you.

I am so sorry, little Jackson, that I could not open my heart to you immediately on your arrival. Please know that this is just a temporary thing, and I just need some time to get used to the idea of you, and re-used to the idea that I still do not have a child of my own. It hurts, little babe, more than I can put into form here.

The guilt that I feel creates a spiral of sourness that I cannot escape from right now, because what right do I have to deny you and your new family every erg of positive energy that I can muster, especially after what your mom went through with her last son. There is no one on this planet more deserving of a beautiful baby boy like yourself than she is. Not even me. Not even her sister.

So, although my heart is not joyous, still please know, dear nephew, that it is 100% yours, from this, the first day of your life, to the very last day of mine. I pledge my loyalty, my strength and my love to you always. Even if my angst is in the way I am still very pleased, very honoured, and very proud to be your Uncle Robby.

Forgive me.

Happy Anniversary!

2006-06-23T06:07:00.000-07:00

Yes,

It was a year ago today that I started the Robbyblog. I am averaging a post a week, which really isn't all that bad, especially when you compare the frequency to things like, er....flossing.

Looking back at the blog, we have had some really good times, and some really sad ones. I thank you all for reading and keeping up, and taking this little journey with me. I am not sure if we learned anything or grew even a little, or if we were just killing time together. Sometimes though, time needs a killin', so I consider it all an accomplishment.

I am surprised to come to this anniversary without the usual pledges to post more, be better, faster & more as time goes on. This bloggy is working really well, gives me an outlet, and a chance to flex my literary muscles. I think those muscles are called the flactoids, but I am no doctor. Hitting a milestone without "rededicating" myself to change it "for the better" by redoubling my efforts is a pretty significant thing for me, and I am quite proud. Maybe other things in my life are just fine as well the way they are, without my mucking about in them like a hippo with an overactive pituitary gland in the marshes of Louisiana. Muck muck muck.

Again, thanks for hanging out, checking in and leaving a comment or two. Let's see what the next year brings!

Robert

One of the Little Secrets

2006-06-19T08:02:00.000-07:00

It isn't like the Goodely Wyfe and I are using Ricky Ricardo beds, but we have fallen into a habit this year of taking separate vacations. I know we didn't plan it this way, but here we are.

The GW is off to California to visit her sister, who is due to pop a baby any second now. In fact, was that the splash of the embyonic waterfall I hear? No, no, just the pipes again. Oh well, I shall have to wait a little longer for my niece or nephew to arrive. Not much longer, but still.

At the same time that the GW is warming up the birthing pool and limbering up her diaper changing form, I am off to the DjorkFest, or the GeekCon, or whatever the fine folks at the Origins Gaming Convention are calling it this year. Eight or so of my like minded friends, and a few thousand of my like minded peers will be convening in beautiful Columbus Ohio for a coupla-two-three-days of gaming, costuming and various discussions of everything sci-fi and fantasy. This will be a great time for me, and would have been a horrible time for the Goodely.

Would I have enjoyed a trip out to California to see the new (hawt) mommy and her offspring in beautiful panoramic "please come romp naked in me" fields of their homeland? Yes, most likely, but mere seconds after the baby comes? Hmmm....let me get back to you on that.

So there you go...we take separate vacations. Nothing wrong with that, but there seems to be a slight disconnect in my mind about it. It seems that the things that The GW and i have in common are becoming fewer and fewer, with maybe television, sex and eating being our common denominators. Our other interests are so divergent, but at the same time cross pollinating. Would the Goodely have been inclined to treat herself to a marathon of Firefly while I was away on business were it not for me? Would I ever had read any bok what didn't have vampire sex in it if it weren't for her?

Enjoy, my Goodely Wyfe, enjoy your sister time next week, as I will most certainly enjoy my Boticellian Klingon babes, dice rolling, and the geenral stank of the geeky unwashed. Ah, its better than new card smell, which, by the way, you wouldn't even had known about were it not for me.

"The end of an error...."

2006-06-01T07:19:00.000-07:00

That title line made me laugh, as typed by my cousin Michael over the IM. What he meant, of course, was "End of an Era", and by that, he was talking about Memorial Day Weekend.

We celebrated Memorial Day Weekend 2006 (MDWy2k6) recently as we have every summer for many, many years. The whole crazy family trots down to my parents house at Long Beach Island NJ and celebrates life, love, and most importantly, Gramma Torre's birthday. This year the little scamp turned 95, a date celebrated by her statement "I am so ready to go!".

I have heard her say this before of course, but this time, it was pretty final. No, dearest compassionate reader, she is still with us, hearty and hale, but what has fallen under the chopping block is the big Memorial Day Weekend celebration.

My parents are tired, my gramma is tired, and it is finally time to put this kid to bed. Its a crazy, crazy weekend, and we always have a blast, but enough is enough, and it is time to stop partying like a teenager, buckle down, and admit that we have beat this dead horse into the ground like an over zealous carny pounding the stakes for the big top.

Okay, who is writing this blog? Of course this isn't the end! Hang up my bang up? No way! Just like it is now up to my generation to shoulder mighty burdens and responsibilities, it is also
our responsibility to take the fun and exciting things that we like to do, and continue to do them, bigger, better and more good naturedly self destructively than ever before! How can I possibly get through a year without:

1. Being intergenerationally drunk at 9:30 a.m.
2. Actually talking to teenagers and finding out that I am still "Cool Cousin Robert"
3. All night all male cousins trip to Atlantic City
4. Sharing Hot bagels, hot coffee, and dvd cartoons with my cousins' children.
5. Buying gigantic sunglasses part in an effort to reinforce #2 and part to stare at bikini babelettes on the beach.
6. Needing a vacation from my vacation.

This tradition wil live on! Mothers, keep your sons and daughters locked up, for come MDWy2k7.....its all about the Cousins!

Technological lifespans...

2006-05-17T06:16:00.000-07:00

I am outliving technology at a rapidly and increasingly disturbing rate. Many years ago, when we were first trying to get pregnant, my parents gave us a video casette recorder. It was an amazingly compact piece of equipment that we used once or twice, then left in the closet. I know where it is, but I imagine it is as outdated as last months' newspaper.

Unlike last months' newspaper, however, I have no idea how to recycle these fringe items of technology. It seems an anathema to just chuck an old laptop, computer, video camera, cell phone and now digital camera out on the curb. Is it just me? I have thousands of doallars (at time of purchase) worth of computerized whoodigy woodigy laying about The Estate Home, all gathering dust and completely obsolete. I woud do the eBay, but frequently the cost of shipping the item is going to be more than the "worth" of these items.

Yes, I have owned my camera for four years before getting the dreaded Canon E18 error mesage. I hear it wil cost more time and money to fix it then get a new one. My television remote control doesn't work on the television anymore, and thus we cannot put it on channel 3 to play dvds or videos. It isnt a problem with the remote, its a problem with the television itself. Off the television goes! Bye Bye!

So perhaps you can all come over to my house, hold my hand, and together we can load the station wagon up with all this "junk" and take it to the dump. I will be hard pressed, however to part with my top of the line laptop and desktop though.

Ah, the give and take.

2006-05-05T05:43:00.000-07:00

I would like to think that the Goodely Wyfe and I have a successful marriage. July 4th we will celebrate, what, 8 years of this, and the future looks pretty bright. We have had our laughs, and also weathered our storms.

Eight may not sound like a long time, but it isn't like we have settled into a routine of mutual co-dependency or a comfortable rut that we can while away the years within. These first 8 years have been years of constant growth, constant change and constant adaptation to each other's changing personalities and interests.

The secret to our success, you ask? Well, I think a lot of it has to do with the fact that we don't really have all that much in common when it comes to our interests. On a fundamental level, we are very much the same, and see the world through similar lenses. What we choose to look at, howe'er, is a as different as midget vampires and the Maryland Sheep & Wool Festival.

That's right, dear reader, prepare to eat your hat with green eyed jealousy once you take fully into your cerebellum how I plan to spend my weekend. I am off to the land of wooly sheep, and sheepy wool. Ah, there may e'en be the rare llama, or perhaps a brace of alpaqua. Yes, dearest, dearest reader, this video game playing science fiction enthused djork loving cyber vampiric architect is off to the farm to take in the sights, sounds and dare I say smells of all that is the Maryland Sheep & Wool Festival.

"But Robert, for the love of the jumpin' Jeebus, why?!?", I can hear you ask, incredulous that this fantastical farm foray forms frivolity for folk. Why aren't you just whisking her off with some of her like minded friends to trip the yarn's fandango?

Well, the easy answer is that I love this woman with all my heart, and will do pretty much whatever she asks me to (boom chikka wa waa nonwithstanding), but more significantly, because this is something that she is interested in, and wants to include me in her joy. I am not going to look at yarn and sheep, no, I am going to look at yarn and sheep through her dazzling eyes, share in her wondrous smile, and feel her enthusiasm.

Hell, it beats mowing the lawn.

No, really. This is the give and take that may seem like a chore to some, but is an opportunity for growth and change in our relationship. All kidding aside, I am going with an open heart, a quizzitive mind, and hopefully the wonderment of a 7 year old. I intend to partake in free demos ('aven't gotten paid yet, don'cha' knew?), pet the sheep, llamas, etc., ask lots of questions, and will most likely end up with a t-shirt or mug or something, because to be honest, that logo is really cool.

Yes, I will be distracted, my mind will wander, and I will be grilling my share of fetching yarn spinning-maidens, but my main focus, my devotion, will be for the woman that was silly enough to decide that I was worth spending the entirety of her interesting and many faceted life with. Honestly, faced with the enormity of such a wonderful prospect, this really is the least I could do.

Baaaaaaaaaaa!!!!!!

How fleeting...

2006-04-21T06:02:00.000-07:00

Just a followup to yesterday.

I went home a bit early, and stopped by my local gaming store. In true Brodie fashion "They love me there!", and were more than willing to help me hone my Pokemon skills for what I assumed to be many, many battles.

I raced home, pockets overbrimming with monsters both new and old, the new card smell wafting around me like the spirits of former Pokemon Gym Leaders before me, and calling to the fore promises of great victories.

I sat, pensive and twitching, eager to engage my diminutive prey in another classic clash of cards, then...lo! He comes. I see his form ascending the hill to his house, acting quite the casual dandy, half skipping, half walking....is that a murder of crows that follows him? No, just a passing cloud, just a passing cloud.

He plays the game well....he pretends to ignore me, as if I wasn't sitting there on the porch, fixing him with my best game face, poring all of my tension and competetive malice into my icy stare....look at me, 1st grader...look at the face of your doom.

The Goodely Wyfe steps into the fray, beware woman! This is a fierce match between Alpha's of the neighborhood. Undaunted, she calls out her own challenge...

"Hi Adam, how was the park?"

How dare she! He has won this round, and he knows it. He stops, looks right at me, smiles his loathsome smile, and declares,

"Good, beautiful day! Hi Robert and Talley"

Hi Robert and Talley indeed. Wait, where is he going? Surely he sees the deck of cards that I shuffle..shuffle..cut..shuffle, incessantly shuffle. He must know its on, he must! This boy is good, so very good. But no matter..I will....

He turns, and before I can shout my defiance, he disappears into his house! A ha! He must be going to grab whatever malnourished and neglected "pocket monsters" he can find to rush back and battle me...surely.

A minute passes, slowly, inexorably as only time can. Two minutes...three, where is this boy? Where is this demonic incorporation of the unholy feud? He doesn't appear...was my game face enough? Have I cowered him?

I spot his mother, a tall dark slyph of a woman, gliding up from the park with her daughter, the heir to the pokemon throne in tow. She stops, the mother of my Foe, and fixes her smouldering gaze upon me, envious, no doubt, of my lofty, prominent porch position. She smiles, that cruel, evil smile, and spits out,

"Hi guys! Great day! Oh, Adam got a new game today...Heroscape! Ever hear of it?"

Like a crudely formed obsidian spear, this harpy casually pierces my heart....Adam will not be coming over to play Pokemons with me....he has already moved on, and my window....

is closed.

Pokeymans...

2006-04-20T12:34:00.000-07:00

Hello!

My neighbor came over the other day to show off his Pokemon card collection. This seven year old scamp was all bright eyed and shiny faced as he showed off one pocket monster after another, boasting on how many cards he had.

Now, as you all know or can safely assume, I have been a Pokemon master since before this fresh faced young tot was even born, so I casually remarked, "Oh, wait here, I think I have a few cards as well". I proceded down to the basement where all of my games go to die, and came back with, oh.....just a few thousand cards. All of a sudden, as we went through the "basic set" of Pokemon, all the memories came back to me, about how silly we were, all grown up, but debating the attack prowess of Hitmochan or the somnabulant karaoke stylings of Clefairy.

Soon, this young whippersnapper had the audacity to challenge me, ME, to a duel of pocket monsters. We began our pitched and furious battle on the front porch of our house, a soft wind blowing, sun shining, and the monsters pocketing.

It doesn't matter who won or lost the duel (alright, he won....grrr....) what matters is that I was actually handing down the fine traditions of collectible card gaming to another generation. I am glad to see that his parents are adding on to their house, and have plans to live there for quite awhile. I have many, many fun games to bring up out of the vault and teach the neighborhood kiddies.

For now, though, you have to excuse me, as I need to go buy more Pokemon cards....a few thousand just doesn't seem like enough.

Robbyblog, I choose You!

Displaced in Time

2006-04-13T07:18:00.000-07:00

Hello folks!

Considering we will all live (borrowing accidents) to the ripe old age of 100+, its seems utterly foolish to me that we still cling to this outdated sociological model of modern middle class life. If I live to 100, why is it that I only get the first 18 years to screw around? By the time I am one fifth into the mix, they tell me I need to know what it is I am going to do for the next 80 years! Anybody else find this crazy?

The Hobbits had it right. They had a system where age 33 was coming of age, and you were considered an adult at 50. Bam, perfect. Right there in what we now consider a mid life crisis, they have made that the arrival into adult hood. And why not? Aren't your "tweens", what the hobbits refer to as the wild years of your 20s, the proper age to be running around like a maniac, with some nowhere retail job living in a shack with 12 other folks by the beach? Instead, we power educate ourselves when we aren't prepared to learn anything, end up in a job that we may or may not truly enjoy, and getting divorced and marrying bimbos (or mimbos) in our 40s and 50s wondering what the heck we are doing with our lives.

A few questions:

1. How many of us are in jobs that are totally unrelated to what we studied in College?

2. Why is it that everyone who goes "back to school" does wildly better and gets much more from it than when they were knuckleheaded kids?

3. How many times have you heard "If only I were 20 again, I would do things differently."

My sister in law and my wife seem to have done it pretty well. Both of them are delectable 30 somethings, and have just not too recently embarked on their true careers. They were able to carve out the time for themselves to do some soul searching and find out what it was that they truly wanted to do, a process seasoned by time and benefitted from experience. This seems like a good model. I think I could have knocked around making cheesesteaks or working in the mailroom for a few more years while actually studying architecture as a hobby. As it is now, practicing in my profession takes up so much time that actually being interested in it after work seems so daunting.

The only real difficulty that I have in my new social order is women's biology. You all know I am totally pro-woman, but something has to give here. All you broads need to get together and switch up your baby making apparatus so it goes online at age 20, and works perfectly to your early 40s. As of right now, from what I understand, you are ready to make babies at like age 16 or earlier. That's just crazy considering our current average life expectancy. I still want you to go through puberty and be ready for the "lower cuddling", but just adjust some of the other plumbing, and we will be all set. Okay?

Yeah, its not a great plan, and it has some major flaws, but it does seem like the human race is a little out of sync with our physiology and our temporal journey. If I retire at 65, I will have 35 years, thirty five years, to screw around and slack off. What I would like is to be able to get 10 or so of those years NOW, when I am still borderline young and hot, and screw around and slack off.

Is that so much to ask?

Happy Hour

2006-04-06T05:33:00.000-07:00

I understand that one of the best things about British pop music is the often seen or heard juxtaposition of upbeat and catchy tunes snuggled up next to some pretty harsh lyrics. If these cockneyed thugs were out there lampooning "the man", then I am afraid these days, they are reaching out H.G.Wells style and lampooning Yours Truly.

If you have never heard the tune, check out the Housemartin's "Happy Hour". Its a catchy little ditty, and one of my favorite tunes. Do yourself a favour though, and try not to listen too too closely to the lyrics, as they are characteristically dour, and a little pathetic. Curse you British pop artist, curse you to the Inferno!

Kind of a long intro to get into the meat of my post, and that is: Happy Hour season is here at last! The sun is shining, the skirts are rising, and the booze is flowing. My office does a great job of rolling out the plush red carpet of the company credit card now and again and taking us all out for an afternoon on the town, and on their tab. There is a buzz about the office on Happy Hour day, more smiles and smirks, more folk wearing their sunday best, and an energy of chicanery that permeates our designs and our psyches, knowing that there will be interaction, booze, food and glorious happiness.

I love the Happy Hour format. Drinking all sorts of wondrous concoctions in the middle of the afternoon is one of life's greatest joys. Rubbing elbows and other body parts with the fabulous and beautiful younglings of the greater metropolitan area is icing on the alcohol laden cake. I loves me the drinking, the socializing, and the (to my addled brain at least) witty banter that often ensues after the "unwinding" takes place.

Odd how even though tonic water is a terrible stand alone beverage, and gin even worse when taken solo, get these two crazy kids together, and you have what can only be described as the pure, delicious taste of summer itself. Ooo...add that twist of lemon or lime, and you will be transported to the Pleasuredome of Kubla Khan.

The dangers and pitfalls of Happy Hour are, of course, legion. Starting a bender at 4:30 in the afternoon can easily result in one Robbyblogger being a complete and total wreck by 9:00. Those herculean efforts of the past where we have been out drinking for 8-10 hours after a simple "going out for a drink or two after work" is a trap your humble author falls into fairly easily, especially when surrounded by my trusted team of enabling supporters. The mindsplitting and compleatly crippling hangover what results requires convalescence that I am infrequently prepared to handle, avoid, or deal with. Hitting on the boss' hot wife, the office manager, or your subordinates is also a danger to be entertained, but not taken to a too uncomfortable extreme. Ne'er 'ave I been the subject of a heiny xeroxing episode, but I have been carried home baggage style from previous H-hours by trusted life partners.

Perhaps that is why we have winter, to insulate the episodes of the previous drinking and carousing season in ones mind from the potential for moral shenanaghans and hijinkery of the immediate future. Winter is the palate cleansing sorbet of the minds cotton mouthed palate, and this year it has done its job well. With my palate cleansed of all past sin, I am ready to embark once again on the trail of the elusive "Ultimate Happy Hour Experience". Come, hook your wagon up to my star, blow some mud up my skirt, and lets get this thing going!

Cheers!