Category Archives: Kids

Children, Family, Kids

She’s Killing Me #6

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She’s killing me, I tell ya.

My Little Cake Boss…

But now, it will have to be My Little Cake Boss…DIVA.

That’s right.  My Little Cake Boss Diva.

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Before she became the Little Cake Boss Diva.

After (manipulatively) maneuvering me over several weeks, she entrapped me into taking her and two friends on a shopping frenzy (for them, not me).  My back ached for days.  My fingers developed callouses from having to hold their bazillion shopping bags that weighed over a hundred pounds each.

But I am a slow learner.  Yes, I am.

From about the time of the shopping frenzy, she had already begun her next manipulation.

Hindsight is always 100%, you know.

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“Papa, don’t you think my hair looks nice?  It’s really more bronze, yeah?  Feel it.”

“Yes, its soft and bronze at the ends, just like Robyn’s (my oldest daughter),” I said.

She brought it up again…within a couple of days of the first.

Then…

“Papa, what did Robyn use to highlight her hair?”

WTF?  Her mother (illegally) does hair.  Why doesn’t she ask her?  I said, “I don’t know.”

But I am a slow learner… or a real slow catcher-oner.  (That’s supposed to be a word and it’s in Webster’s.)  Perhaps dense is a better descriptive, especially when it comes to girl jabber.  I mean, girl talk.

Father's Day 2010
My four kids on Father’s Day 2010. My Little Cake Boss Diva is missing a tooth. My oldest son on the right is now pursuing his PhD.

A few days later, “Papa, you know my hair is really a dark, bronze color…  Do you think my hair would look better with lighter highlights or darker red highlights like Robyn had?”

OMG.  Gulp.

But I played coy… I played dumb.  But I texted Robyn so that I could be prepared.  “What did you use to highlight your hair?”

“I used a Groupon deal,” she answered.

Dang it.

So I texted my USAF buddy’s wife, Ms. S.  She’s a girlie girl.  She should know.

“Oh, it’s really tricky to do it yourself.  You should take her to get it done.”

The whole world is against me.

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Her Snow White birthday party and her “bronze” hair.  Oh, she’s the one on the right.

So on Sunday, April 12th (three days before income tax returns are due), I tell her in the morning, “Oooookay, Bu-chan…  Let’s go get your hair highlighted.”

You should have seen her face light up.  It was as if Little Miss Energy got plugged into a 220v socket.  For the first time in her life, she got into the car…somewhat quickly.  Who am I kidding?  She took 20 minutes.  She had to change and brush her hair…and get her iPhone, of course.

I take her to this salon nearby that the gals have told me about.  I drive up.  It’s closed.  WTF?

So we drove across the street to this fancy-schmancy place the WOMEN tell me about (i.e., $$$).  It was a little past 10 am so I was hoping to get her a walk-in.  Parked out in front and the sign said OPEN.  Well, it was not.  What’s with these women places??!  Barbershops are open on Sunday!

So the Little Cake Boss Diva gets on her phone and says there’s a salon open.  I never ask her to tell me where some place is because 30 miles is down the block to her.  Luckily, it was about 15 minutes away.  She calls but the line’s busy.  We go anyways.

Well, they were booked up solid…  She looked kinda sad but I knew of this one other place next to Yum-Yum Donuts that was for sure open…and it was close to the house.

We get there.  They take her.

She sits in the chair.  Out comes her iPhone.  Selfie time, I guess.

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She’s probably texting the whole student body.
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The transformation begins…and the biggest grin gets bigger.
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Still grinning…
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Blow drying.
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“Stop taking pictures, Papa!” Tough.
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The grin is still there at dinner…

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I think she was a most happy camper.

She manipulated me again, hasn’t she?

But I am glad she wanted to manipulate me.

Cooking, Family, Kids

Homemade Meatballs and Spaghetti Sauce

36 Comments

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I wanted to take a better picture but this was all the spaghetti that was left after we ate.

You must all be wondering.

What is a third generation Japanese-American doing trying to make Italian meatballs?

It’s as if you saw John Wayne behind the sushi counter asking if you want yellow tail or halibut.

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Well, the schedule has my kids staying this week for Spring Break…and they are bored.  They are so bored, they again asked, “What are we having for dinner tonight?  The same stuff, Papa?”

Egads.

Made them my killer (but now boring) Fettucine Alfredo with prosciutto and green peas Monday night and beef stroganoff yesterday night (with Jack removing every last mushroom from his plate).

From scratch.  None of this sauce out of a bottle or Hamburger Helper stuff.

So….  My son Jack seems to like meatballs for some reason.  He gets it at Subway and at this Italian restaurant in Belmont Shores.  The last time he did, I told him I’d make it.

So I did.

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Just wanted to throw in a random photo… but that pot does have the basil I keep growing for cooking use. When it’s growing good, I use it as a backdrop for my macro pics. BTW, its a picture of a picture of a picture…of chalk. 🙂

I had heard many horror stories about making meatballs.

They were hard like golf balls.

They were just round hamburgers.

So I went to my trusted cooking bible: Cook’s Illustrated.

Their recipes are the Triple T’s: tasty, tried and true and only (old) male buffoons like me can mess them up.  I’ve proven that.

But it turns out their secret ingredient was… buttermilk.  Crazy.  But it worked out wonderfully.  And you used only the egg yolk; using the whole egg does something to the texture, Cook’s Illustrated said.

The ingredients for the meatballs were:

  • 3/4 pound ground chuck (85/15 ground beef can be substituted)
  • 1/4 pound ground pork
  • 1/4 cup buttermilk
  • Two slices white bread (with the crusts cut off) cut into small cubes
  • 1/4 cup grated Parmesan Reggiano (my preference)
  • One minced garlic clove
  • Two tbsp minced parsley (I used the broad leaf Italian parsley to make up for my being Japanese-American)
  • One egg yolk
  • 3/4 tsp table salt
  • Pepper to taste

The ingredients for the spaghetti sauce were:

  • 28 oz can crushed tomatoes
  • One minced garlic
  • Olive oil
  • Salt, pepper
  • 2 tbsp minced basil
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My rolled meatballs. In hindsight, they should have been a bit bigger… and if you’re wondering what the cardboard egg carton is for, it’s a great (disposable) way to drain your fried foods.

For the meatballs:

  1. Soak the bread in the buttermilk for 10 minutes, crushing the bread occasionally to break it down.  Do not drain.
  2. Combine all the meatball ingredients in large bowl.  (I slice through the mixture using a fork to bring it all together rather than using my hand to mix it.  Keeps the mixture loose.)
  3. Form meatballs (without compressing) about 1-1/2 inches in diameter, rolling mixture in hands.  Set aside.  Complete for remaining mixture.
  4. Heat 1/4″ vegetable oil in 10″ skillet.  (I don’t recommend non-stick.)
  5. Carefully drop meatballs one by one into oil; they should sizzle.  If your skillet is big enough, you may be able to do them in one batch.
  6. Adjusting the flame, keep them sizzling while making sure ALL sides are browned.  Perhaps ten minutes. (I made the mistake of having the heat too high and the meatballs too small.)
  7. Drain.

For the spaghetti sauce:

  1. Drain the oil from the skillet.  Return to range.  Pat away most of the oil BUT leave all the yummy crusty stuff on the bottom.
  2. Heat then pour in about a couple tablespoons olive oil and garlic.  Scrape up all the crusties on the bottom as best you can. Do not burn garlic; no more than 30 seconds.
  3. Carefully pour in the crushed tomatoes.  Continue to scrape up remaining crusties then bring to boil.
  4. Turn down heat then simmer for about ten minutes, stirring occasionally.
  5. Add basil and meatballs then simmer for five more minutes.
  6. Adjust seasoning.

They suggested reserving a 1/4 cup of the pasta water.  After draining the al dente spaghetti¹ and returning it to the pot, add back the pasta water and a couple of ladles of the sauce.

Coat then portion out your spaghetti from the still warm pot onto dishes.  Pour a bit more sauce onto pasta, top with three meatballs.  Your kiddies can add Parmesan Reggiano to their liking.

Bon Appetit!

(No, I am not Julia Child.  You are sadly mistaken.)

Note 1: Use ample water; I use more than a gallon for a pound of pasta.  Also add one tablespoon salt immediately before adding pasta.  Stir to make sure they don’t stick together then cover to bring back to boil as soon as you can.  Uncover then rigorously boil for recommended time for al dente.

Family, Kids

Good Friday, a Rattlesnake and Game Boy

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At times, I feel uncomfortable being of the Buddhist faith.  Perhaps I am not as devout as my grandfather was reported to be but my family is Buddhist.  I guess I feel uncomfortable because so many of you – my friends – are of the Christian faith and cherish it grandly.

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My bud Don during the dedication of the new “ambo” (?) at his church. He is participating in a Good Friday play as I type.

Because I am Buddhist, it is difficult to fathom the importance religiously of today, Good Friday.  One of my most trusted friends of old, Don, partakes in a play each Good Friday at his Catholic church of which he is a most faithful member.  I feel some sadness as I am unable to grasp the deepness of his love for his God or the significance of this day.

But each Good Friday, my mind races back to the Good Friday of 1992.

My oldest daughter was home as there was no school.  She was nine at that time

Playing in her bare feet, she was bitten by a rattler in the front yard of my home.

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My first daughter about six hours after the anti-venom was administered, with her intensely pained left foot resting on a pillow.

Yes, my memory is not all that accurate, Robyn, but it was late morning.  I was working in Downtown LA that day when a call came into my office.

When I picked up the phone, it was her mom.  You have to understand her to appreciate this but she said pretty calmly, “I think Robyn got bit on her foot by a snake.”

“Huh?  Whaaat?  Where?  Are there puncture marks?”

“Ummm…  Let me go see,” she calmly says.  Yes, she did.  OMG!  Didn’t she check already?

After a minute, she comes back and matter-of-factly says, “Umm, yes, there’s two little holes on her toe…”  It was as if she was telling me Robyn got straight A’s again.  Very routine for Robyn.

“Call 911!” I said quite loudly then hung up.  I ran to my boss’ office and said yelled, “I think my daughter got bit by a rattlesnake!  Bye!”

Did I mention I was the opposite of my ex-wife?  I got pretty “animated”.  It was different than being told she got straight A’s again.

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Remembering this was before inexpensive cell phones, I raced home.  It took about an hour to drive the 25 miles, even back then.  When I got there, no one was there.  But a neighbor told me the paramedics took her to Brea Community Hospital.  “Huh?  Brea Community?  Where’s that?!”  No Google Maps, either.

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After the anti-venom drip is started, the waiting begins. Her mom brought along her favorite yellow blankie.

If I recall correctly, I got to the hospital about two hours after the call.  Apparently, the paramedics were going to medivac her when they located this hospital with anti-venom in the neighboring county.

It was the darnedest sight.  Here were these two pretty rugged-looking paramedics in Emergency, rubbing their huge hands together like if they were outside in the snow.  Briefly, her mom explained yes, it was a rattler.  The doctor wasn’t sure what anti-venom to administer at first but after calling a specialist in Arizona, they decided on the anti-venom.  However, the anti-venom coagulates at the top of a suspension liquid in these tiny glass tubes.  The paramedics were rolling these tubes in their hands to warm and melt/dissolve the anti-venom into the liquid.

My daughter, a pretty tough kid, was just laying on the gurney quite bravely.  She didn’t whimper, complain or show fear.  She would be that way for the rest of the night – well, except for a split second.  In fact, the only time she would show emotion was when she pummeled her younger brother – frequently.  He apparently deserved it.

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I believe this was taken nearing midnight. Those faint lines going up her ankle were drawn by the nurse at certain times to mark the spread of the toxins and swelling. You can see the effects of the snake bite; it was really purple.

There was cause for alarm, however.  The first responders were able to locate the snake in the strawberry plants then lopped off its head with a shovel.  But it was a baby rattler.  For those of you who don’t know, baby rattlers are unpredictable in how much venom they would inject for a kill.  Luckily, it had killed Mickey Mouse a bit earlier (or maybe it was Minnie), thereby somewhat depleting its venom supply; you could see the bulge in its body from the mouse (Yes, they put it into a glass jar to show the doctor.  Yes, we kept in the freezer for awhile as a souvenir.  I even took it to show my boss.  Who would believe a nutsy story like this?).  Plus, Robyn was a small girl.  Smart, but small.

They began the drip as soon as possible… but by around 11 pm, you could clearly see the toxins marching its way up her leg, discoloring her skin as it spread.  The swelling got real bad, too.

Then, the news.  The nurse said if the swelling doesn’t subside by around midnight, the doctor will have to make an incision in her calf to relieve the swelling.  Further, they did not know if there would be any permanent tissue or nerve damage.

Talk about feeling helpless…  All we could do was wait.  By this time, her skin began to turn an ugly shade of grey.

Then for the first time that day, Robyn understandably let out a tear or two.

So did I.

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Fortunately, about an hour afterwards, the toxins stopped its march up her leg.  The anti-venom was finally taking effect.  Soon thereafter, the swelling began to subside, slowly but surely.

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Robyn in the morning chowing down on one of her favorite foods at that time – bacon. Mine are much better, of course, fried up perfectly.

By late morning – and while the skin was still an ugly shade of grey – a physical therapist came in.  Oddly, she was the owner of an interior decorating store at the base of our hill; she had sold us all our new furniture and interior stuff like wallpaper and window treatments five years earlier.

She had Robyn get out of bed then try to walk.  Although she had a bad limp from the pain and tenderness, the therapist said there was no nerve or tissue damage to her foot or leg.  Whew.

And the Game Boy?

I thought she earned it for being a tough kid so I got her one.  She got pretty good at it, too.

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The new Game Boy… the start of endless fighting between her and her younger brother who she beat up all the time… and who now benches 400 pounds.

Oh…  Although Robyn’s name wasn’t mentioned, her mom told me later that she made the news on KFWB news radio.

They didn’t mention her new Game Boy, though, or how brave she was.

Darned media.

Children, Family, Friends, Kids

She’s Killing Me #5

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My Little Cake Boss on the right as her friend snaps a selfie. They’re looking into a mirror in the Lancome cosmetics section in Macy’s.

She’s killing me, I tell ya.

Big time.

This time, my Little Cake Boss literally left me holding the bag(s)… for over an hour.

My knees crumbled under the weight.

Two vertebrae were crushed.

But I persevered.  I mentally made myself to be one of our heroic Marines, carrying a wounded buddy to safety… while on the receiving end of an enemy barrage.

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I had the kids for ten days this time; I’m guessing their mother got another invitation to travel with a certain “somebody”.  The fact she didn’t take my son to piano tells me it must’ve been some trip.  She didn’t even tell her own kids where she would be going.  Unbelievable.

Maybe it was court ordered community service.

Nah.  Wishful thinking.

But the Little Cake Boss had been asking me for over a couple of weeks if I could take her shopping with her friends.  She said she was loaded with greenbacks and gift cards.  She even remembered how much she got from whom.

See.  Women never forget.

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So I often asked her during those ten days, “When?  Saturday or Sunday?”

Forget even asking what time.  She uses an hour glass that she forgets to turnover.

Or even the logistics.  “How many of you are going?” “When am I to pick them up…and from where?” LOL

And when I ask again, she gets mad…again.

Well, I guess I should be happy she asked me and not her mom.

______________________________

So Friday evening comes…and OMG.  She has a plan…kinda.

“Can you take us on Sunday, Papa?” she asks.

“Sure, Bu-chan (my nickname for her).  Who and at what time?”

“I don’t know yet,” she says.

Double OMG.

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The Three Musketeers soon after arrival.  Notice their hands are empty…

Long story short, I end up picking up one of her BFF’s, “N”, at her house on Sunday at 10:45 am…  and this is after the plans changed once again that morning.  Her other BFF, “A”, is now having her mother drop her off at the mall at 11:00 “in front of Nordstrom’s”.  She tells me this as we near the mall.  (Never mind I was forced to clean the WHOLE house Saturday as “A’s” mother was supposed to be dropping her off at my house… Grrr…)

“In front of Nordstrom’s, Bu-chan?” I ask.

“Yessssss,” she annoying answers as I apparently interrupted the two girls I am chapperoning.  They are the paying customers, you know.

“Bu-chan…  I think there are five entrances to Nordstrom’s…” says I.

She doesn’t answer.  Cha-ching.  Got her.  Finally.  “Have her meet us in front of Lazy Dog Cafe then,” I say.

She still doesn’t really answer because her old man got her.  She hates that because she’s the Boss.  I can see her hurriedly texting “A”.  She’s a text queen, you know.

___________________________________

Anyways, I can’t remember how many stores they hit… Translation: how many HOURS… and while she knew I would have to tag along, she “hinted” I didn’t have to stand “close” to them.  Sheesh.

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They were in there for a month, you know…  Well, actually, about five minutes.  How can three girls spend five minutes in there taking a selfie???
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…and she wouldn’t let me see the pictures. Hmmpph.
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Reaching for her first Rolex at Tiffany’s.
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Their hands are filling up.
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Can’t run low on sugar.
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Still whippin’ out that cash. Aren’t they tired yet? Isn’t it time to call it a day???

Then, the 1-1/2 hour nightmare…   It’s the equivalent of a woman having to stand for hours on end in the Craftsman Tool section at Sears while the man drools…

They hit the cosmetics section.

Lancome, even.  Criminy.

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Lancome?? I didn’t deserve this.

I didn’t know twelve year old girls could get so giddy.

They were crazed.  I think their brains stopped working.  They went from “thing” to another “thing” in there.  I have no frickin’ idea what the stuff they slathered on their faces were called.  There were just a bazillion colors.  They would put it on then wipe it off.  They used a bazillion black or white sticks with stiff little bristles at the end that they took to their eyes while standing millimeters away from the mirror…all whilst contorting their faces.  They stood so close, they blocked out the sun standing in front of those full-length mirrors.

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If a girl is confused, imagine how her dad felt.

Oh…and don’t forget…  I indeed got stuck holding the bag(s)…

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They were so heavy, my fingers went numb.

But I persevered… for over six hours.

Think about it.  I could have flown from JFK to LAX on the Spirit of St. Louis in less time…and stopped to refuel.

Oh…  They went back to the opposite end of the mall afterwards… to hit Sephora.

That’s another makeup place for you guys.

Ewww.

Cooking, Family, Kids

She’s Killing Me #4

22 Comments

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Taken in 2009

Well, I got in the last word tonight.

Kinda.

After we came back from her dance class tonight, I began to clean up the mess in the kitchen from making dinner. I was taking a pan off the range.

Little Cake Boss: “Papa, the stove top needs to get cleaned.”

Me: ………Silence… while I raise my eyebrows and stare at her… You know, the YOU clean it stare.

Little Cake Boss: She turns around and quickly prances away, doing some kind of ballet thingy.

Me: Priceless, I thought to myself. I got the last word in for once…

…until I realized she left, leaving me to clean the stove top.

Darn that girl.  She got the last word in again.

Cooking, Kids

CPK’s Pesto Creme Penne Pasta

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Waited too long to take a picture – the kids were hungry.

For many months now, my two littlest ones have been asking me “to make” California Pizza Kitchen’s (CPK) Pesto Creme Penne Pasta.

Although I’ve seen my Little Cake Boss eat it a couple of times, I never really looked at it; besides, the dimly lit interior rivals that of the Pirates of the Caribbean ride at Disneyland.  So the first time I made it, it was not what they expected; it was just plain ol’ pesto…but they ate it.  They always eat what I make…when they like it.

For my Little Cake Boss’ 12th birthday earlier this month, I took her friends to CPK.  This time, I looked at it real good and had a sample.  Well, let me tell you – “Pesto” should not have been the first word in this dish’s culinary description. 🙂

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The redness fades quickly… but why the city requires mulch for cactus and succulents is beyond reason. My back and knees wondered why, too.

Red Spike Succulent

Well, in between the birthday and the pasta, there was:

  1. Changing out my green lawn to a drought-tolerant yard (above),
  2. Trying to write a novel while investigating new facts about my Uncle Suetaro’s death in the Philippines in 1945,
  3. A paranoid aunt freaking out (big time) about a new cell phone she asked for,
  4. Big Bear Lake, and,
  5. A really messed up oil change at Walmart (which they promptly took care of),

but I dared to try this dish again.

I did start out with my pesto but for this attempt, I just cut down the amounts and used my Cuisinart Mini Coffee Grinder to process it.

The base was a variant of my Alfredo sauce:

  • Some olive oil
  • One garlic clove, pressed
  • Maybe a 1/4 to a 1/3 stick butter
  • About 2/3rds cup heavy cream

And

  • Maybe two BIG tablespoons of the pesto
  • Maybe a third to a half cup (?) of sun dried tomatoes
  • Half cup of shredded Parmesan Reggiano
  • Salt, pepper
  • Penne, al dente

Heated small sauce pan, dribbled in some olive oil then quickly warmed through the pressed garlic.  After maybe ten seconds (don’t want to burn the garlic), tossed in the butter until it melted, then added the cream.  Brought it up to good simmer (don’t boil), stirring often.  Lowered heat and continued on low simmer for ten minutes, stirring frequently.

Threw in the sun dried tomatoes and after a couple of minutes, added the pesto, Parmesan cheese, salt/pepper to taste, then poured it over the penne in a stainless steel bowl.  Mixed it up then sprinkled the plated pasta with more Parmesan.

Did the kids eat it?

Yes.

Did they think it was like CPK’s?

Nope.  They thought it was better.

Well, actually, as their provider of food, shelter and flu shots, I encouraged them to think that.

Family, Kids, Marines

She’s Killing Me #3

21 Comments

She’s killing me, I tell ya.  My little Cake Boss.

She is never, NEVER ready on time.  Have I said never yet?

This morning was no different.  I plead with her to be ready at 8:45 am, five minutes earlier because it is pouring outside.  Raindrops the size of watermelons.  And that means the world’s supply of crazed mothers and grandparents in their M1A1 battle tanks in desert camouflage will be assaulting the three or four dropoff places at school – all at 8:55 am.  Our Marines should be embarrassed these mothers can assault the beach head on time – every time.  But unlike the Marines, its every mom for herself.  Damn the others. 🙂

As usual, my son is ready.  He is always ready.  Sometimes he forgets things like his homework – but he is always ready.

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Jack is always ready – this morning at 8:45 am as I asked… The lunch box and water bottle belong to the child who always keeps us waiting…til PAST the last minute. Notice the girl shoes with the feet missing from them?

Then I begin to yell at her.  “Brooke!  What are you doing??  Get in the car!”

Then she procrastinates even more…  She’ll do the exact opposite – like my ex does even today.  She’ll run to the bathroom or decide to wear a different pair of socks or whatever. I yell at her even more as I will have to drive like a NASCAR driver just to get near the school that is a bazillion miles away.  Tokyo’s closer.

It’s 8:48 am and Jack is waiting in the car as usual…for his sister.  Reluctantly, I haul her 100 ton backpack to the car.  It must be filled with Walmart’s entire inventory of nail polish.  Well, there are books in there at least.

She finally runs to the car – in her bare feet – in the rainwater left by the watermelon-sized raindrops –  while holding her socks, shoes and… hairbrush.

We get to the school as the bell rings.  Jack jumps out…but not Brooke.  Of course not.

Brooke suddenly remembers her mama didn’t sign an assignment sheet that was due yesterday.  Crazed Marines (aka as mothers) are honking at me…while my Little Cake Boss struggles to put her Converse on while searching for that paper.  I sign it.  She finally jumps out but her shoes are still not completely on. Criminy.

I get home.

I see something pink and white on the back seat under her hair brush she carried into the car instead of her backpack I lugged for her.

It’s the Text Princess’ iPhone.

iphoneSo I go back…to take the Text Princess her phone.

They page her.  I wait in the hallway.  She comes.  I hand her the phone.  “Papa! You didn’t have to bring it-aaah…” in her trade-mark Valley-girl way of talking… but she knows she’d have a heart attack without it.  It’s like the little notes girls used to pass around in class when I was her age.

Watch this…  The first thing she’s gonna do is lecture me when she gets picked up…after she’s the last one to leave the school, of course, texting as she walks.

America, Children, Family, Kids, Photography

A Volcanic Week

29 Comments

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The Little Cake Boss doing her dance thing out in the middle of nowhere. Notice her iPhone? The Texting Princess was not too keen about having no signal.

It indeed turned out to be a volcanic week.  The end began the night before on Saturday at 10:30 pm when my son asked, “Papa, can we go to the Mojave Road tomorrow?”

Mojave Road??  In the morning??  Egads.

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The week was already in shambles… full of surprises.

My 13 year old son requested one of my apples pies so I baked one on Tuesday night…from scratch.  Crust included – never mind it looked like a clone of Shaq’s head. The pie turned out pretty darned good if you ask him.  Can you hear it sizzling as it came out of the oven?:

My 11 year old daughter has multiple dance classes every week night except Friday plus 2-1/2 hours on Saturday – right in the middle of the day.  On Thursdays, although she has a two hour window in between two classes, she chooses to stay to chat up a storm with her friends…except last week.  As I take her to her 4:30 pm class on the 4th (late again as she is never ready on time), she asks me to pick her up at 5:30 instead!  Plus, as she exits the car, she manipulatively says, “…and today’s National Cookie Day, Papa.  Can we bake some chocolate chip cookies later tonight?”  Geez.  Rushed across the street to Ralph’s to pick up more brown sugar and some walnuts then headed home…

As I was pre-mixing the dry ingredients for her cookies, Jack rushes into the kitchen at 5:15 pm all excited.  He said, “Papaaa…  I forgot to tell you but there’s an orientation night at the high school.”

“Oh…OK.  When?” I ask.

“Toooo-night…” in a shy voice…

Holy crap!!  I never got a notification of the orientation but it turns out he had taken something home to his mama; of course, she didn’t bother sharing that with me!  Then double crap!  (There’s a triple crap coming.)  I had to pick up my daughter in 15 minutes but the orientation started at 6:00!  Arrgghh!

Throw some snacks into a bag, load my son hurriedly into the car, then zip off to her dance studio.  I was a few minutes late and she was waiting outside.  I am NEVER late when it comes to the kids and especially with my little girl.  As I hand her the snacks, I tell her she has to stay because…..  😦  Boy, did she get upset at my son…from a distance!

We get to the auditorium in the nick of time.

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We transitioned to a classroom later listening to the IT department head give his presentation when… the triple darn hits.  My phone starts vibrating…  It’s 6:45 pm…  It’s my little girl calling from the dance studio.  She forgot a piece of her dance clothes for her 7:30 class.  Geez.

I couldn’t leave Jack alone so I had to pull him out of the orientation and rush back to the dance school.  I picked her up to take her home as I have NO idea what “thing” she needs.  I take her back by 7:20 only to have to pick her up at 8:30.

With all the excitement, I had forgotten how many 1/4 cups of brown sugar I had put into the cookie mix.  Criminy.  Anyways, four batches of toll house cookies emerged… And the Little Cake Boss – she’s the one who wanted to bake the cookies for National Cookie Day – didn’t help…  She said she was too tired…  Arrgghh.

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Yielded about 40 cookies.

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Ah, the volcanoes…

I had been asking Jack where he would like to go on a Sunday especially since the last two months have been Brooke’s dance, dance, dance for competitions and dance “conventions” every weekend.  Saturdays and Sundays. Get up by 5:30 am.  Criminy.  I felt bad leaving him home but I had no other choice.

So at 10:30 pm on Saturday, he brings up the Mojave Road.  He would like to go there.  I looked it up.  It was a dirt road that makes the Baja 500 look like skateboarding on a sidewalk.  Sadly, I said we couldn’t go because it’s 4 x 4 terrain; plus, the rainstorms had made some sections really rough going.

Then he says, “Papa, isn’t the Subaru 4WD?”  Gadzooks.  I had to show him photos of the road damaged by flooding and how raised monster off-road vehicles even get stuck.  Besides, the car only has cheap two-ply street tires.  He was disappointed.  I asked him to pick somewhere else…after I had said to pick a place.  He decided on “Hole-in-the-Wall” in the middle of the Mojave National Preserve.  It’s roughly 240 miles from home… One way.  Man, you should have heard my daughter moan and groan while chomping on the toll house cookies her PAPA baked for HER.  She did NOT want to go!

“Jack!!  What are you going to do when we get there! Duh!” she asked, then stormed to her room.  Oh, man.  I feel sorry for her future boy friend.  Did I write that?  Where’s the backspace…

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Believe me, I’d rather fight Godzilla rather than getting the Little Cake Boss out of bed early on a Sunday.  Braving an apocalypse, I cracked open her door at 7:30 am; I escaped with just one black eye and a broken arm.  But we all managed to get into the car by 8 am.  Drove like crazy as it gets awfully cold and DARK real quick out in the desert.  We got there a little after noon.

Hole-in-the-Wall is an area where volcanoes spewed lava over millions of years.  Geologists theorize that uneven cooling of the layers of lava aided in creating pockets of trapped gasses within.  Through the eons, time had eroded away the lava layers, exposing these “holes”.  The plateaus surrounding the area were what remains of the tops of the original lava flows millions of years ago. It has also been rumored to have been a hideout for outlaws in the days of the Wild West.  Their saddles must have had built-in GPS to have been able to come back to this forsaken place.  If it weren’t for Sparklett’s making door-to-door deliveries, they wouldn’t have had water, either.

As this story is getting too long, some snaps by my son and I from Hole-in-the-Wall:

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Avoiding cacti and other thorny stuff… as well as tarantulas that wouldn’t fit in a dog cage.
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Some petroglyphs.

I encouraged Jack to take photos as there is an art show at his school early next year:

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Me bending down is out of the question so I encouraged Jack to take a photo of this dead plant.

This is his result:

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Jack’s photograph. Pretty darn cool!

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A billion cacti meant a gadzillion thorns.
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On the three mile desert hike that nearly killed me.
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Canon, baby.
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Another one of my son’s photos.
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There must be a zillion people smarter than me as we didn’t see a single car for over 20 minutes… but then we were trying avoid potholes the size of the Meteor Crater. Taken by Jack.
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Natural cotton gin.

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A last one from my son.

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Family, Kids, Uncategorized

She’s Killing Me #2

7 Comments

I’m telling ya, she’s killing me.

My little Cake Boss.  She’s become a girlie.  Totally.

Nails.  Brushing her hair for dance classes.  Face timing.  Trying on different clothes just to go to a supermarket.  Spending 15 minutes in a soap store and not finding a single one she likes.  Never ready on time.

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My little Cake Boss on the right with two of her BFFs, K and N.

All summer long, she asked if it was OK to go to the beach or something with her friends.  I said no problem; just don’t do it at the last minute.

I even took her to two stores to buy a new bikini.  Egads.  She even asked me what color she should get to which I replied, “A warm color; I think purple looks best on you.”

So she buys a pink one.  Why ask?? See, she’s killing me.

Oh…  I said to get a beach towel since she had her pink Disney princesses towel since she was three.  Plus, they were on sale.  She said she didn’t need one.

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I had my kids for two straight weeks this time…  but she has dance five days a week plus the last two Saturdays were all day rehearsals. I had also promised to take my son to the range but my ex ruined my plans once again by interfering.

So this last Monday, my little Cake Boss – with the days now getting cooler – asked if she and two of her best friends could go to the beach.  Again, I said sure but let me know now so we can be ready.

On Tuesday, I asked, “Brooke, so can your friends go?”

“Papa, I asked, OK?  Just wait, OK?”

On Wednesday, I asked, “So Brooke, are they coming?”

“Papa…  They haven’t gotten back to me so wait, OK? Sheesh!”  Never mind they are classmates, BFF and spend all day together.

On Thursday, I asked, “Brooke.  So what’s the story with the beach this Sunday?”

“Papa!  I’ll let you know, OK??!”

On Friday, I asked, “Brooke…  So is it on?  Sunday’s the day after tomorrow!”

“Papaaaa!”

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GZ

So guess what?  After picking her up from rehearsal Saturday night and after eating dinner, she says, “Papa.  So they’re coming at 11:30 TOMORROW (caps added) and we’re going to watch Godzilla afterwards… but K needs to be home by 6:30 PM.”

Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

SO SUNDAY MORNING at 9:00 AM…  Guess what?  She coyly asks, “Papa…  Can we go get a beach towel?  Its kinda old now. Heh heh, heh.”

We’re off to Target to get a beach towel with her friends coming a little over two hours…  October 1st is just a few days away.  Who’s gonna have a beach towel let alone a one she likes???

We can’t find one, of course…and she gets mad at me.

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We then we made a mad dash to Stater Bros. to get stuff to make hamburgers and BBQ for them afterwards… “Papa…  Why do you have to rush?!

So her  two BFF arrive and at 12, I say, “Brooke, you said you all wanted to watch Godzilla afterwards and K needs to be home by 6:30 so we need to go.”

“Papa, OK!!  Just wait 30 seconds, OK?!  Sheesh!”

Five minutes.

Ten minutes.  I’m waiting outside with the car loaded up.  I go back inside.  I find they’re still in her room… yakking away.

“Brooke! We need to go,” I yell through her door.

“Papa!!!  We’re trying on clothes so just wait!”

WTF??

Fifteen minutes.  Sure is a long 30 seconds.

After 25 minutes…  They are finally ready to leave and come out… but then she realizes she needs to “use the bathroom” and runs back into the house.  Criminy!

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BFF… with my ringleader Cake Boss in the middle.

Well, we finally made it to the beach around 1 PM…  But in a little over an hour, she says, “OK, Papa.  We’re ready to go home now because it’s getting a little cold.”

She’s killing me, I tell ya.  But at least they saw three dolphins just 40 yards off the beach… and they had a great time.

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Three dolphins just off the beach and right in front of them.

BFF…

Family, Kids, Photography, World War II

Generations

44 Comments

Like in “Souls of Wood”, generations continue…

Meet my granddaughter Emi, born just now.

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