January Snow!

Balloon Heads

MO! YOU BE MEAN! Every parent has their “goofy-things-kids-say” story, hear one you’ve heard ‘em all. Nevertheless, for conformity’s sake, here’s mine. Our little Kaya had problems with certain vowels. For the longest time she couldn’t say the letter “N.” Instead she would say “M.” Thus “no” became “mo.” We’d tell her it was time for bed and she’d run crying, “Mo! Mo! Mo!” How effin’ cute is that? Kaya’s sisters started picking it up, and even Mom & Dad started saying, “Mo!” These days, though, Kaya no longer has this problem. She also has added vocabulary. Her mantra now is, “No! You be mean!”

Sledding

Do You Know How Miserable I Can Make You? Is my wife, Terry, the only wife who, whenever she wants to persuade me to shop or do some other unpleasant task, unholsters and fires the quasi-rhetorical, “Do you know how miserable I can make you?” Is this the right way to be persuasive? Lately I’ve become a little defensive. When staring down the barrel of this query, I batten the hatches and fire back, “Yes, I do…unfortunately. Why not ask me how happy you can make me?” Touche! Fortunately, we both appreciate the importance of repricocity, and have the prerequisite sense of humor.

Hiding

Custard vs. Crème Anglaise : My wife is a foodie. Or a food snob. I suggested I’d make custard for the kids, and my wife came back with this, “I don’t like custard, it’s crème anglaise or nothing.” What? That’s like not drinking coke unless it’s served in a champagne glass.

Sled for three!

The $3 Mafia Lunchroom Bill: What is it with Seattle Public Schools? We put in money in a school cafeteria account so our daughters can buy milk for lunch. Inevitably, we get this left on our phone: “This is a message from Seattle Public Schools. Our records show that you daughter, Gia Powell, is delinquent 50 cents. It is very important that you settle this account as soon as possible.” Are they the mob? I let the bill go up to $3 before I paid, my way of sticking it to ‘em. I would have let it go further, but the daily calls really started to annoy my wife.

VIDEO of the MONTH:  The girls make snowmen!

THANKSGIVING OR ALL-INCLUSIVE? This year we left Seattle on Thanksgiving morn and headed to Mexico. I love holidays, but missing Thanksgiving stress not entirely a bad thing. Nevertheless, Christmas lurked around the corner, so it would not be total escape.

The Girls Paint

THE LOST SHOES: Kids lose things. Usually they turn up. My wife, however, does not wait for missing things to appear. When anything of the girls disappears, an inevitabillity, chaos ensues. Me? My “Don’t worry, they’ll turn up” attitude does not console. I figger – My wife works hard, why spend time searching? She figgers – an afternoon spent ransacking the house because a $10 hat is missing is time well spent. The latest tragedy concerned Gia’s shoes. It was the theme of Christmas week, as if we don’t have enough going on. No rest for the shoe-misplacers.

The Lost Shoes

My wife spent three days looking, every minute when she wasn’t working, eating, or sleeping. Not only that, she wouldn’t let anyone else rest until those damn shoes popped up. “Caleb, we must find those shoes. Everyone, we’re not doing anything until those shoes turn up! Caleb – search the car. Ava and Gia, get your butts downstairs and find them shoes!” Aaaaaargh! Turned out nephew Elliot wore them home last time he was here. We picked them up at Grandy’s on Christmas eve.

Kaya drinkin

Ava & Gia

GENDER CONFUSION – HOW vs. WHAT: Why do people talk endlessly about nothing? Yes, I’m not innocent, yet I’ve learned to keep my boring thoughts to myself, for the most part. Others? Maybe it’s just a me vs. everyone thing, because my dad and father-in-law have their moments, gab is a human affliction, not just a female one, but as a sexist with an inferiority complex regarding women, I’ll focus on the ladies. When a sister or wife calls, I need to be careful to ask them “how” they’re doing, but no matter how much room I give them for a short answer, I’m in for a detail-laden screed about kids eating/playing/related chores/ or a gallery of shopping and work-related detritus.

The Girls at the Pool

Gad-friggin’-zooks. There is beauty in simplicity. When they ask me about my kids or life, I’ll say, “All’s fine.” For the most part, you hear one kid/life story you’ve heard them all. It’s not that I don’t care about family & friends, it’s just that I don’t care about minutia. When I ask my wife about her day, unless there is actual news, I’m looking for a one-word answer, or at worst, a sentence. I treat as I wish to be treated, and this is a problem, as my wife could talk all day about coffee and clothes, so there’s a disconnect. Do men and women interpret the meanings of “how” and “what” differently?

Mom & Ava

So I phrase the question as a yes-no, using the interrogative pronoun “how”. It doesn’t matter how the husband (stay-at-home dad) phrases the question, though, because the woman (hard-working wage earner) will answer in essay form.

Husband: Did you have a nice day?/How was your day? (The correct answer is either “yes” or “no” or something like “nice”)

Wife & Father-in-law

Wife: It was okay, it started off fine, but now my flight home is delayed a half hour so I thought I’d call you while I wait at the airport, I’m so tired. I think I’m going to have to buy new shoes. These shoes started to hurt my feet, but maybe it’s just because I’ve been standing a lot all day. I really worked hard today, but when I was driving to the airport there was this accident and traffic was blocked for about five minutes, but at least the flight coming here to San Francisco was smooth. And the weather was good, too, sunny, although it wasn’t that warm, maybe 60 degrees. I arrived to the meeting early so I had time to prepare, and that was nice. But even though traffic was bad the line at the airport was pretty good and I was happy to get through and then I was major disappointed because the flight was delayed. (By this time husband is chewing on his gums) Then she’ll ask me:

Christmas at Grandy's

Wife: What’d you do today?
Husband:It was fine.

That being said, truth of the matter is, I love hearing my wife chirp about her day, especially at the end when we’re winding down, but when you’re a hard-working stay-at-home dad (don’t roll your eyes) long, endless conversations need to end.

Nephew Julian loves his Tofurkey & Gravy soda

Even Grandpa Gave It a Try

TOFURKEY & GRAVY SODA: My wife works with retailers, and Jones soda gave her a free case of this holiday season’s brew: Tofurkey & Gravy Soda. I guess I’m late to the game as this concoction has been out for a while, but it just shows people will buy anything. It is a gag, but it’s been successful, and evidently sells out every year around the holiday season. Go figure. So…with that, happy holidays to all!

From the Powell family...Merry Stressmas! And for those who do not believe in stress...Merry Christmas!

My father in a canoe, Terry & Gia watching

Ready for school!

Who took the noodle from the noodle pan? Kaya!

THE SHORT BLOG: This is a short blog. October has been extremely busy and I had to put something together in order to maintain my quota of at least one blog post a month. The following is a tribute to all those women who love football.

Mother & Daughters

FEMALE FOOTBALL KICKERS: It’s fall, school has started, as well, football season. Every now and then we get a kick in the pants in the female-male gender battle during this time of year because some girl at some high school put on the pads and kicks an extra point. This grabs a headline or two. However, is this really news? This only illustrates gender inequality. Look no further than the Kate Hnida college fiasco, with tragic footnote, a story of “women can’t play

Kaya's Private Table

Schnerds

football and men are pigs” and then she ends up writing a memoir.That’s called cashing in. Talk to me when there’s a female linebacker or running back. Hey, women are superior in everything except physical feats, and us men need to retain this last vestige.

PHOTO of the SUMMER PAST:

Family at Lake Chelan

At the Rose Garden with 三朵金花, or "Three Petals Golden Flowers"

Nai-nai teaching Ava & Gia watercolors

Carnival

This summer has been busy, busy, busy. Family in town, side projects, and the usual kid drama. As they grow older my wife and I are learning, by a form of trial & error and conventional wisdom, about discipline. As usual, the male and female clash. Dad would rather use a hammer, and mom wields a feather.

Kaya, Ava, & Cousin Gemma

My friend Layne on his birthday w/Ava & Leann

CRIME & REWARD: The modern parent lives in an age where punishment is seen as “mean.” Drug crimes get the offender more time than rape, murderers help sell sh*tty clothing, posing as martyrs in moronic ad campaigns ala United Colors of Benetton, and society blames crime on society, not the individual. How can the parent discipline? Corporal punishment? No chance. Thus we are left with timeouts and deprivations of treats and privileges.

Dad & his girls

Grandpa, Tra-C, San-J & Ava in the Kitchen

EFFECTIVE? It depends on how willing the parent is to be “mean.” Enter: The Spider Room. We have three spooky corners, a closet, storage space under the stairs, and the “wine cellar”, dank and dark formers stairs that led to our backyard from the basement, until our remodeled covered it up. It’s grungy, it’s dirty, and appropriately terrifying to a kid. Put them in (closet “spider room” for mild offense, egregious merits the “wine cellar spider room”), turn the lights out, and they learn quickly what happens to varmints that throw food, take crayon to sofa, bite each other (they’ve lefty nasty teethmarks on skin), or lie about leaving a “present” in the toilet (happens all the time, it’s the lie not the no-flush that’s the problem).

At Lake Chelan

DETERRENT? Our daughters, 6, 5, & 2 1/2, and nephew Elliot, have all done hard time, and the mere mention of “spider room” gets them to behave. Yet my wife (and sister-in-law Tracy) have different methods. When the kids are naughty my wife gives a hug, kiss, and explanation of right and wrong. Eeeeek! That’s not deterrent…that’s incentive. Let’s look at a hypothetical situation:

Gia graduates from WIS

WHAT MOM SAYS: “Ava and Gia, you know you are not supposed to play with peanut butter and milk in the backyard. That wastes food. Look at all these dishes and this mess. So now we have to clean it up. Okay? Mommy loves you, but mommy doesn’t like it when you girls are naughty. What should you do? That’s right, you have to put the food back in the refrigerator. And the dishes, where do they go? In the sink. Do you want to make mommy happy? Or do you want to make mommy sad? Good. Now you girls don’t be naughty, and mommy will show you how to clean it up.”

My dad takes pictures of his grandchildren

WHAT KIDS HEAR: Ava and Gia, blah-biddy blah blah neeter natter peanut butter and milk. natter natter chatter chatter hubba wubba lova wubba food gibbledy gloo biffity bop. Dishity messity food deener dorf differ dibbledy biddle gorf Mommy loves you hoinchy hoinchy hoinchy mommy will clean it up.

Mom at the Coupeville Festival

WHAT DAD SAYS: I see you girls are making a mess with food and dishes again! Spider room! Five minutes!

WHAT KIDS HEAR: Roarrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!!!!!! Spider room! Aaaargh!!!!!

As to deprivations, or the “No cookie for you!” schtick, who relents? Mom can’t bear the thought of kids not getting the cookie. Dad sadistically eats, in their face, the cookies of naughty kids.I think my way produces tangible results, however, funny thing is, our kids behave under the tutelage of mom. Perhaps better. Hmmmm?

PHOTO and ART of the WEEK: A vase my mother did for me when I was in high school – the Judas Priest!

Canoeing with the girls on Penn Cove

THE GROUCHY CHEF: There’s a chef in Mukilteo, a Mr. Masumoto, a real life version of the Soup Nazi of Seinfeld fame. The guy loves food and hates

Mom & Ava

Eagle

mankind. Or does he? A while ago my wife and I decided to try him out.

From the Seattle Times:“While this guy makes the Iron Chef look lighthearted, you’ve got to hand it to him. He’s proud enough of his social defect to design his logo around it (tall toque, big frown), put his crotchety motto on his business card (“What you see is what you get!”) and trumpet the grouch factor on bold red signage (“Grouchy Chef, Eat In or Take Out”). But lest you think he’s the Shogun of Schtick, think again: Masumoto means business, and he’s quick to point out that he doesn’t need yours.”

Three Girls in the Kitchen

The Grouchy Chef restaurant had signs in rudimentary English, “No picture no photo no camera!” “I learn very hard to speak English. You make fun my English we talk in my language. We see how good your Japanese.” “I only buy fresh vegetable, meat, and fruit to make good dish. No Costco food!”

Grouchy in my "Grouchy Chef" T-shirt

I noticed these black “Grouchy Chef” T-Shirts, I wanted one, but noticed a sign: T-Shirts Not for Sale! I went to the counter; told Mr. Masumoto that I’d like to pay for the shirt. He said, “Shirt not for sale!” I said, “C’mon.” He said, “Not for sale! Read sign!”

At this moment a customer leant over and whispered, “Take one, they’re free.” And so I did. Mr. Masumoto just ignored me and kept his eyes on the knife.

Kaya Loves Her Guacamole

The menu was European cousine, schnitzel, salmon, rice pilaf, salad with strawberries and gorgonzola, very simple, refreshingly few selections for entrees (a good thing), and all satisfactory. My wife and I ordered and sat. Then this young man and his female companion stood up to leave and pay.

I'm a Happy Chef

As the man waited he started taking pictures of the signs on the wall. Mistake. Mr. Masimoto said, “You read sign? No photo!” The young man shrugged and smirked, and then handed over his money. Mr. Masimoto took the bills and threw them back. ”Get out! I don’t want your money. You get out!” Terry, my wife, said, “I’m scared.”

Ava's Last Day of School

Other signs, though, said that Mr. Masimoto and his family came to America, and that he is proud to be an American. He works hard, and prepares the best food he can. Military personnel who show an I.D. card will get a free meal. My wife and I had a tasty meal and an entertaining experience, although it’s not the place to relax with children. Bottom line: Good and inexpensive food. A rare combo. Ambience on the eccentric side, but nothing wrong with that.

JOKE TIME: What do you call a man who hates giving women backrubs? 

A Massage-ynist.

Artwork of the Month: Another painting by my mother -

 

The original Sanjay photo has been replaced on grounds of taste, as even this blog has standards. Therefore, instead, here's Grandpa at the ruins of Tulum. Not as funny, perhaps, but classier.

Sanjay with his father and two fathers-in-law, Jim & W. Macy

FIRST COMIC SITTING: Who’s the least funny comic? This blog, using the fore and aftermath of the San-J/Tra-C wedding, honors all those wannabe comedians who think they’re funny because friends and family laugh at their lame jokes. I’ve got news for these clowns: people like to laugh because they like to, not because they have taste. Just look at the success of Friends. Comedy? No. Entertainment? Hardly. Hope for amateur comedians? Definitely.

Grandy and her four granddaughters, introducing new arrival Gemma ala Aunt Melissa and Uncle Danny

I AM NOT FUNNY: Now, before I proceed, I am not a comedian, nor do I aspire to be. This art best left to the professionals. However, I seek quality humor. Unfortunately, even the supposed masters suck. It has been ten years, at least, since Robin Williams told a funny joke, and he was no monkey in a barrel during his best years…Mrs. Doubtfire? Ha ha ha hee hee hoo. Yet, like stated, I certainly am not capable of doing better. My M.O. only demonstrates how failed jokes sometimes are funny. Whether the joke accidental or intentional, laughter always is in the “sense” of the beholder.

Sanjay with Second Best Man Juice Jones

SHOULD HOMOSEXUALS BE ALLOWED TO MARRY? What is all the controversy? The real question should be: Should heterosexuals be allowed to marry? Rife with divorce and infidelity, bozos like Bill Clinton, John Edwards, Newt Gingrich, Rush Limbaugh, Mark Sanford, Arnold Scharzenegger, and Eliot Spitzer give ample fodder for the argument that a study should be commissioned to determine whether or not heterosexual marriage should be prohibited. Thus here’s to all those couples who’ve maintained successful marriages, my wife and I, Tra-C and San-J and their recent nuptials, our family’s, and all the couples that, despite the horrors of marriage, and horrors they are, have powered through to enjoy the fruits.

Gia from the balcony

PORN FOR WOMEN: There has been a recent onslaught of sexist books mocking men, not that men are bothered by being ridiculed. Titles like Everything a Man Knows About Women, Everything a Man Thinks About When He Isn’t Thinking About Sex, and so on…the punch line? A book of blank pages. Har har hoo hoo heh heh ho! My knee is turning red because I’m slapping it so hard. And then there are some gruesome stories…here I’d like to warn sensitive readers, you may not want to read further.

Like I Need to Be Funny

Tulum

I’m talking about “faux porn,” especially the new dirty books for women. These rags show men cleaning, cooking, and gardening. Gadzooks! Is this what men need to do to please women? Yikes, yikers, & yikest. However, after reading this article,  What Turns Women On, I discovered that I do have one “kinky” habit. I arrange my books alphabetically, separating fiction and nonfiction, although my wife would trade this for me vacuuming twice a day. Is this what women’s lib has brought on? Whatever happened to women who swooned after men who killed farm animals with their bare hands? Men, we’re screwed in a bad way.

Grandpa Jim just told a joke, see by Kaya and Elliot's faces how funny it was.

THE COMPETITION: Are you ready for the 1st Annual First Comic Sitting Competition? Previously I blogged about comedy & gender (Who’s Funnier? San-J or Christopher Hitchens…or Women?), with solid evidence to back my argument. However, my wife and sister-in-law think they’re funnier than the guys (specifically, me).  Thus, the contest. Sanjay Chopra Winfrey, the favorite, lost, as seen by the photo that was above (Sanjay’s antics will be kept in house, but let’s just say he’s had funnier nights). So the men were represented by Rick “William H. Macy” Newell. His rival? Tracy. Let’s see who can split whose sides:

Gaea, Anu, Jarett, Tonya, San-J, Tra-C, Juice

INTERLUDE: Please remember this is an amateur competition, that being said, Tracy’s joke not so bad, although the theme not too original. Is there an upset in the making? It’s left for Rick “Two Whales Walk into a Bar” Newell to decide. Though Rick knows how to install cabinets, bevel an edge, and use a circular saw, he’s rather shaky with a punch line.

The Maids-of-Honor & the Bride

The Wedding Party video above! Anu Anand, Juice Jones, Tonya Goward, Dottie Perkins, Janice Newell, Tracy Perkins…minus groom-to-be Sanjay Chopra. San-J is cooling down after a wild first night that saw him lose some privileges. Ask San-J for details.

The Kids

 

Kaya the Flower Girl

 

 

 

 

Best Sister Terry & Best Man Cousin Anu

Bride & Groom

 

 

 

  

 

 

The Wedding Begins

The Little Four

 

 

 

 

 

  

The Big Four

 

 

 

 

 

Eight

The Knot Has Been Tied!

Left to Right: Rick Newell, Janice Newell with Ava & Gia & Kaya Powell, Elliot Perkins-Benson, Juice Jones, Jim Perkins, Dottie Perkins, Caleb Powell, Sanjay Chopra, Tracy Perkins, Terry Powell, Anu Anand, Tonya Goward, Gaea Ray, & Jarett

Gia on Second Base

ABOVE: Me with doofy ”Bon Jovi” hair doing Walk This Way, January, 1990. 28 seconds.

BELOW: Me in Zimbabwe, with beard, bungeeing off the bridge at Victoria Falls, January, 1998. 1 min. 26 seconds.

HAPPY MOTHER’S DAY! To my wife, mother, sisters, sisters-in-law, and all the mothers out there.

And now…a few photos of Ava and Kaya playing for their T-Ball team, the Catfish.

Easter Egging with Elliot

Though I am the baseball enthusiast, my wife gets credit for signing the girls up for T-Ball. I thought the idea ridiculous, and said it would be better to wait a few years. My reasoning: the girls are cute, but they have no idea about baseball, nor interest. This has been confirmed after the first few games. Despite hours of playing catch they have yet to actually catch a ball mid-air (by chance, a ball once wedged in Ava’s glove, but that doesn’t really count). The concept has yet to sink in, and at home they have to be coerced to throw the ball around, or hit off a tee, namely “hit the tee.” However, to Ava & Gia, T-ball is not baseball so much but playing with friends and running airound, and that…they seem to love. T-ball may only be mock baseball, but for the girls it’s a good first step toward figuring out the national pasttime.

Ava Behind the Plate

Little Catfish

Teamwork!

This shot demonstrates Ava's batting skills. Pops takes a picture from the right.

Angels in the infield