Off to the State Cap'tul

Like so many other domestic responsibilities, I've recently thought, "hey, I need to catch up on that blog." But we've been busy. A and B are getting a lot of sun time in at the beach with Mom and the cousins. B has apparently lost his aversion to all things water, and the reports are that it is hard to get him out of the ocean.

Dad is off to State Cap'tul. The powers that be there desire to test his prowess in all the kinds of law that he will never practice. It will all be over in 60 hours. Unless he has to do it again in February.

So in less than a week, we'll have peeling skin, we should weigh a little more, and we'll put up pics.

Falling down on the job

I can't help but notice our ratings have been declining. Many of you are wondering 'what's the point with checking a blog that can't even post once a week'? Accordingly average hits have fallen from 19 a day to 15 a day since we moved to the Dash. Why would you trouble your left click with us, when, for example, one of Mom's favorite blogs posts 79 times per day? (leading to an excitement and expectation causing Mom to stand by the computer, constantly refreshing the page).

I can't argue. And Dad won't help me make an argument. He is too busy trying to figure out who is a life in being for the purposes of the Rule Against Perpetuities. Or exactly what the difference is between equal protection and due process. Or how he did relatively well in law school, given his dearth of substantial legal knowledge.

So above is a picture of B and Cam, from this past weekend. In the tradition of what is presumably the most viewed Twin City blog, I'll give a free apple core to the first person to name the location.

Cousins

Connor, Tyler and Uncle Sid came for a visit last weekend. Barritt and Connor celebrated Tyler's first birthday (without Tyler) by decorating and eating some cupcakes, then spent the rest of the weekend running naked through the backyard. Those pictures are tucked away until I can maximize their embarrassment potential.

This shifty-looking kid is about to bite into one of the first fruits from our vegetable garden. Somehow, the very first tomato was eaten without proper ceremony...Matt snuck it into pasta salad last Friday without telling me what he'd done. Since I know the one pictured above came from our garden, I'll be sure to savor it on my BLT tomorrow.

Not pictured above is the black and blue big toe on B's left foot. A very heavy gate fell on his foot this morning. We consulted a pediatrician and a trauma surgeon in the neighborhood before we decided that it isn't broken and will likely feel better after a popsicle and a nap. In the mean time, the swelling has gone down but the bruising is impressive. We are very thankful for our neighbors and their expertise!

We love Barritt, we really do. But at this stage of his development (heretofore called the Tasmanian Devil stage), he is difficult to capture on camera. And when he is awake, taking pictures is one of the last things on our minds - we are more preoccupied with disciplinary measures, property protection, and fire prevention.

But in these slow days of summer, Annabelle is a visage of irenic bliss. Sure, she throws most of her food on the ground, bites her parents, and falls on the floor screaming when she is not allowed to climb in the pantry. But she sure is cute.

Annabelle wears the pants in this household, most of the time

The header is misleading - Annabelle is always in charge, she's just not always wearing pants. If there was any doubt as to who is in charge now that we've moved, one sidelong glance from her will set you straight. She doesn't care if she is too big for the tricycle, or if she is not really supposed to be on the stairs, or for that matter, if she is even wearing clothes on her bottom half.

Foodways from the new house

We know people want updates. People are clamoring for pictures of Annabelle's swollen gums, which are barely holding back molars. Or pics of B playing in the yard, perilously close to our bumper crop of poison ivy. Truth is, we are having technical difficulties with our cameras. Such difficulties as, "Where the heck is our camera?" Or, "hey, I found the camera! But where is the battery charger?" The answers to these questions is often an unhelpful "In a box."

Regardless, we have squeezed out a few pics of the culinary adventures of the season. Beet greens and some kind of field peas that were oh so satisfying to shell yet not so satisfying to eat. Lesson learned - next time, ask the lady at the farmer's market to let you taste the peas.

Then there is an extra pic which seems to have been an accidental inclusion (here is the point where the biblical critics among our readership raise their eyebrows).

 

 

 

 

Our Last Picture from Athens

Taken six minutes before the start of my last law school exam - the exam I was five minutes late to. From the breakfast counter at the Bread Basket gas station, corner of Chase and Boulevard, Athens, GA.

Our Other Awesome Musical Experience Last Friday

The Emmanuel Episcopal Year-End Review was held last Friday, and guess who the star was. Go ahead, guess. Yes, Barritt. Well, he was like 1/30th of the star, the star properly being the combination of the 2-day-2's and the 3-day-2's.

Any shakiness in the camera should be attributed to what must have been minor earthquakes in the Classic City that day. Or to mom's laughter.

Tramps Like Us

It's not that good of a picture, I'll admit. But the haziness of the picture, taken by dad's cell camera, from the top deck, rear of the stage, is fitting. Seeing the Boss for the first time is a haze-inducing experience. Additionally, the event was such a solemn and transcendent experience, I felt somewhat sacrilegious in even these feeble attempts to make graven images of it. We cried, we danced, we sang out loud, we cried some more. For 2 hours and 40 minutes. And it ended, as I imagine it often does, with Thunder Road into Rosalita into 10th Ave. Freezeout into Born to Run. At some point thereafter, dad swooned, and woke up a few hours later, eerily refreshed, in his bed in Athens.

Bottom line: if you live within 500 miles of Charlottesville, you better be there on Wednesday. Just like Second Cousin Once Removed Katie and dad's friend Drew will be. Otherwise you will have to go to Europe to experience the best public event since the Sermon on the Mount.

Signs of Our Domestic Tranquilty

Courtesy of Dad's camera phone. Our daily routine is to go out into the yard, let Barritt excavate his dirt mound, and watch the vines and weeds grow over Annabelle (making the most of the mantra 'It's a rental'). There is also a sublime comfort from being in the presence of our Be-dwettin' Prayer Flags.

Dino-mite!

As promised, pics of Mom's cake. Note how the dino-cake is made from two round cakes. Then watch has evolution and extinction reverses itself, as the dino-cake comes alive. The real reason the dinosaurs were wiped out: they were made of cake, ganache, and mint icing. At least that's why the dino-cake was extinct from our fridge in short order.

Happy Birthday Bonus Media

Who is really blowing out these candles at my school party?

Happy Birthday to Me! And Hef!

Yes, that's right, a 3d birthday has rolled around for yours truly. Where has the year gone? I can't claim to know. But celebrations are afoot. As are plans for new sleeping arrangements: today I woke up in a crib. Tonight I sleep in a big boy bed. Supposedly.

Also, today is the 82nd birthday of a certain magazine mogul, known for wearing pajamas all day and publishing a magazine people read primarily for its book reviews and interviews with John Updike and his ilk. However, I do not read this, or any other magazines.


Come back later to hear a report of first night in said bed, and to see pictures of the killer cake my mom made me. And I mean killer literally. You'll see.

For now, here are some pictures of my birthday party at school. Annabelle came to help us throw down.

Newsflash: Cousin Tyler Walks - Film at . . . now

March 31, 2008
The Triangle

Not content to sit around all day in a Bumbo seat, watching March Madness and eating sausage balls like other North Carolinians, Cousin Tyler busts a move across the living room rug at 8 months old.



When Annabelle Chambers, first cousin and recent walker herself at 14 months, was asked for comments, her response was surprisingly curt:

"Great. That's wonderful," Chambers said. "Yeah, really terrific. Would this have anything to do with the fact that I still sleep in a pack'n'play and Tyler has a real baby bed? Anyway, I mean, I guess I am happy for us. We both walked in March right? I think that is how you measure it these days - by the month of the calendar year, not the month of your own life. I saw something in Parents Magazine. Yeah, you know, I was going to start walking in, um, December, but I was afraid of slipping on the ice and snow and hail in the Winter."

When reminded that she lives in Georgia, where there is no ice or snow or hail, Chambers promptly threw a partially eaten banana at our cameraman and shouted "well then get the hail out of my kitchen!" and slammed the door.

Other Chambers, Barritt, and Long family members, who could not be reached by the time of publication, were more supportive, and even proud of young Tyler.

Happy Birthday Dad!

We have a tradition around here of writing silly poems as a way of revealing a birthday surprise. I'll spare you this year's effort in its entirety, as it included rhyming "Birthday Bomb" with "grace and aplomb," and just tell you that we took a little road trip. We drove to Social Circle, Ga, to eat at the Blue Willow Inn, an antebellum mansion turned all-you-can-eat Southern buffet. It was a Birthday Bomb, indeed, and I mean in the best way. Happy Birthday Matt!

The other Chambers kid

Upon perusal of recent posts, it is evident that Annabelle only has the slightest of exposure. So here is a new picture of her, courtesy of YiaYia and her baby-friendly lens . . .

She looks sneaky because she is hatching plans to guarantee that she will be in more pictures in the future.

The Roanoke Weiner Stand

Dad has for years wanted to go to the Roanoke Weiner Stand. However, no one would accompany him, and he is loathe to eat tube steaks alone, especially in a town where he is only a guest.

But in April of 2005, a scion was delivered. One who would not remember a day that he did not want to go to hot dog restaurants. One who, as soon as he could sit on a swivelly barstool by himself, would accompany his father hither and yon to roadside eateries, kiosks, taco trucks, and above all, restaurants solely dedicated to America's favorite hot beef injection - the hot dog.

So, yesterday, Barritt joined Dad at the R.W.S.



















It wasn't very good. But that isn't even really the point. The point is that he located himself in history, becoming one of the thousands served in the half century the Roanoke Weiner Stand has existed. And from what we judged, he might have even experienced one of the RWS's last days - if the Health Dept. has anything to say about it.

Come thou long expected biped (v. 2.0)

We got it on tape! Maybe it is only one or two steps, but (enter cliche of choice here).

Now that it is 20 degrees with 30 mph gusts, we are on Spring Break. While we are in South Padre, you can warm your hearts with this little montage.

"I thought chickens were food, not animals"

Mom has been getting ready for our new yard by establishing a seed wish list on Burpee.com. Even though we won't move in until late May, there are ambitious plans afoot for the 2008 crops.

So Mom has apprised Barritt of the plans for swiss chard, chioggia beets, okra, Kentucky Wonder pole beans and so on. When asked what else he would like to grow in the garden, his first request: Eggs!
mom: Eggs? Where do eggs come from?
B: Chickens!
Mom: Can we grow chickens in the garden? I don't think so.
B (thinking for a minute): I thought chickens were food, not animals.

A related conversation:

Mom, reading from a book: "Feel the silky-soft red tulip"
B: what kind of flower is that one?
Mom: a daffodil
B: is that a daf-flip?
Mom: no, that's a tulip.
B: Which one is a daffi-do?
Mom: This one is a tulip.
B: No, its a one-lip.

One other thing. After waiting for months, we witnessed Annabelle take her first steps on Wednesday night. Not just a first step, but five in a row before collapsing on the hassock. But, like hundreds before us trying to document the Yeti, the Lock Ness Monster, and WMDs in Iraq, we have thus far failed to get this on camera.