New Year's Eve gets pretty crazy around the Lindeman household—these pictures were taken as we all prepared to head out to the local Moose Lodge to raise some hell (however at the last second we decided to stay home when we discovered that even that group of revelers planned to actually stay up until midnight).
We all have them. Growing up in the Howard house, our Christmas traditions consisted of decorating the tree to Kenny & Dolly's Christmas album (don't mock it until you've heard it), Erin and I helping dad find the perfect gift for mom and then Erin blabbing what it was before the big day (in her defense, this happened MOSTLY when she was younger), and to top it off, spending each afternoon counting down the days until Christmas with Santa and Toy Boy from Santa's Workshop.
If you didn't grow up in Kansas, or at least in the areas that the local ABC and then CBS channels covered, you missed out on one of the best Christmas shows. Ever. This locally-produced hit featured Santa in his workshop full of the coolest toys of the year and with the help of his little sidekick Toy Boy. (To be exact, Toy Boy was originally Kake Man when the show was on KAKE channel 10. When the show moved to KWCH channel 12, he became Toy Boy ... the one and only.) Craig and I both remember sending in our grade school photos to appear on the wall of the workshop on one episode. And we would listen at the end of the show to see if our names got called from Santa's "good" list. (I'm pretty sure "Carrie" made a more frequent appearance than "Craig.")
Here's a clip from one of the original episodes:
After years of being off the air, the show was back this year with eight new episodes. Santa is played by the original actor's son, and Toy Boy (or Kake Man) is the same actor. Really, no one could ever replace Toy Boy (although Craig can do a pretty good impression). The workshop is pretty much the same, too. Except instead of Cabbage Patch Kids and Tinker Toys they're featuring marble games and lead free instruments.
So now you know why you didn't get a Christmas card from us this year. It was nothing personal, we've just been busy getting caught up with Santa and Toy Boy. But seriously, we wish you all a very Merry Christmas and all the best in the new year.
I've been ignoring the warning signs for quite a while, but now I think it's official.
I'm old.
What started out as a mere repulsion to anything on MTV and an unsatisfiable hunger for fresh-baked bread recently escalated to reading. That's right, reading. In fact, since Carrie and I went on vacation last month I have read a total of four books—all of them non-fiction (which I think I should get bonus points for). And, not that it means anything, but the book Carrie's reading still smells like sunscreen.
I guess the really troubling thing is not that I'm reading, it's why I'm reading—to learn. I think that in a nutshell is the death of youth.
So, what have I been reading?
First off was Bob Dylan's autobiography Chronicles, Volume 1. It offered an amazing look into a virtual recluse who also happens to be one of the biggest icons of the past century. One image from the book that I can't seem to get out of my head is one of a struggling, and basically homeless, Dylan eating free hamburgers in the kitchen of some folk club alongside Tiny Tim.
Next was Sarah Vowell's Assassination Vacation. If you don't recognize Sarah's name, she's a regular contributor to This American Life, and for you parents out there, she's the voice of Violet in The Incredibles. Like a lot of her books, this one took a first-person look at history and traced her steps as she visits various historical sites. For this book, it's sights related to the first three presidential assignations—that of Lincoln, Garfield and McKinley (see, I've already learned something). Fun fact: Robert Todd Lincoln (Abe's son) was connected to all three either as a witness or just in close proximity.
After Assassination Vacation I carried out some daddy duties and read The Guy's Guide to Surviving Pregnancy, Childbirth and the First Year of Fatherhood by Michael Crider. It sucked. It was supposed to be funny. It wasn't. Instead it read like a Jay Leno monologue. Just how bad was it? After I finished it, we returned it just to ensure that this tool wouldn't profit off such a hackney piece of crap and attempt to write again. And no, I don't feel bad about it.
To get the taste out of my mouth, I went back to Sarah Vowell, a real writer, and read her newest book, The Wordy Shipmates. This one was about the settling of the Massachusetts Bay Colony in the early 1600s and while I didn't enjoy it quite as much as Assassination Vacation it was a pretty good read. So much so, that the other night I actually turned off Talledega Nights: The Ballad of Ricky Bobby just to read more about Puritans. If that doesn't say I'm old, I'm not sure what does.
My brother Curt and sister-in-law Cheryl were in town this past weekend and surprised Carrie and I with some early baby gifts—one of which was this cool little flip video camera that we got to test out over lunch today as we played with the dogs in a couple inches of freshly fallen snow. It's not necessarily must-see TV, but here's a peek into how we normally spend our lunch hours.
This first clip is what happens when Luka decides to steal whichever toy Zoe is presently playing with—even though he has absolutely no interest in playing with it himself. He's kind of like that jerky little kid on the playground who runs off with the four-square ball.
In this clip, Luka has completely lost interest—deeming his little game of keep away no longer fun—leaving Zoe with an opportunity to play without being tormented.
The rest of our lunch hour pretty much just consists of Carrie and I warming up leftovers and the usual "how was your morning?" crap. The magic of those moments just can't be captured on camera.
Our friend Molly had her fifth annual cookie swap this weekend, and every year I go home with a plate full of various cookies and my hopes high that maybe next year will be the year I'll go home with a prize for one of the best cookies. The cookie swap is always a fun time to get together with the girls, load up on sugar and participate in a little friendly competition for one of the elaborate prizes awarded for three categories: best tasting cookie, best decorated cookie and most unique cookie.
After we all go around the table and sample bite-size pieces of everything from the traditional sugar cookie to aunt Betty's fudge, we cast our votes and then fill up on more food and warm drinks. This year, when it was time to announce the winners, I never expected to hear my cookie called. I tried a new recipe I found online earlier in the week and there was some stiff competition. But in the category of "most unique" cookie, my chocolate candy cane entry won! Now, I'm not sure if "most unique" is exactly a good thing or not, but hey, it's a win. And I owe Craig a big thanks for helping shape the cookies and drizzling the icing with perfection. Lucky for him, he gets to help me make more next week for family and friends.
I hate to say it, but I think our poll has been compromised. Someone who must have had some sort of insider information (and you know who you are) changed their vote to feel better about their apparent lack of baby picking prowess.
Therefore I guess we have no other option but to now reveal the results of yesterday's sonogram.
While we had fully intended on having the technician write the sex of the kid down on a card so that we could open it at a later, more intimate time, all of that went out the window as soon as the jelly hit Carrie's belly.
First of all, we're very happy to say that everything looked good. All of the necessary parts were there and appeared to be working just as they should be. In fact, the images were extremely clear and the technician spent several extra minutes just "playing around" to see what she could see. (Apparently Carrie swallowed a quarter when she was three.) As for the big question, we're happy to announce that little baby Gertrude will have to be born to someone else because we're having ourselves a little boy.
The following pictures don't provide any photographic evidence, you'll just have to take our word for it.
OK, this last one is a little scary, but so is the idea of us having a kid.
Alright, it's way too cold for a garage sale so we're going to try and have our first-ever blog sale. Here are some items we're ready to part with in our attempt to make room for the baby. If you see something you're interested in, send us an e-mail (lindeman3@yahoo.com) and we'll make you an offer you can't refuse.
Let the bargain hunting begin!
Yamaha Keyboard with Stool - 76 keys - Over 250 voices and 100 styles - Like-new condition (it obviously didn't get practiced on much)
Lane Recliner - Gently used: fabric is in perfect condition but feet have a couple of scratches
Black Sony Trinitron 27" TV - Great condition; comes with remote
Black Magnavox 13" TV - Great condition; comes with remote
White Round Table - 23 1/2" tall - could use a fresh coat of paint
White Wicker Table with Glass Top - 30" L x 17" H x 18" W - Could use fresh coat of paint
Queen Mattress, Box Spring and Bed Frame - Sealy mattress set - Like new condition
During our vacation in the Keys, Carrie and I routinely hit the sack around 7:30 (remember there is a time difference, so in our defense it felt like 6:30). However one night we got a little crazy and decided to watch some TV to let our fifth helping of Bob's Buns settle a bit before setting out to shake hands with Mr. Sandman.
Big mistake.
Because as it turned out, I got sick to my stomach anyway. But the icing wasn't to blame … it was all TLC's fault.
You see I was in charge of the remote and opted to watch an episode to "Little People, Big World" over Spanish infomercials and public-access fishing shows. And for a while, it was a good choice. Then the show ended and a new one began. One called "17 Kids and Counting." As the title would suggest, it's a show about a family with 17 kids (all their own) who are expecting yet another bundle of joy. The opening of the show started with the mother (who looked like she belonged on a compound in rural Texas) introducing the family as follows.
Her husband Jim Bob and her kids:
Joshua Jana John-David Jill Jessa Jinger Joseph Josiah Joy-Anna Jeremiah Jedidiah Jason James Justin Jackson Johannah and Jennifer
I think I just threw up in my mouth a little bit … again.
I'm putting my money on #18 being named LaQuisha.
As you might guess, these people were a tiny bit religious, not that there's anything wrong with that. It just all seemed a little hypocritical. Instead of worshiping the Golden Calf it seemed they were worshiping her Golden Uterus. Oh and don't forget that they don't let their kids watch TV yet it's OK to have their own TV show and take a check for doing it.
More than that, I was insulted as a tree-hugger. With the world already over populated, the last thing we need is a family with 18 kids—each with their own carbon footprint and apparent addictions to Aqua Net (not to mention the rock band touring bus and the five cars they need to haul their sect around town). Oh and did I mention that they're not stopping anytime soon? They're going to continue to have kids as long as they are blessed to do so. Now I'm about the most sqeemish person you'll ever meet, but given the opportunity, I'd tie her tubes myself.
The bright side? After watching one episode, Carrie and I can now return that book of 100,001 baby names!
