Choo choo! Look who's two!

It feels weird to say we're parents of a two-year-old. How can that be? It seems like just yesterday we brought this little guy home from the hospital, when in reality, just yesterday we celebrated his second birthday. I know what they say about time flying, but sometimes I just wish it would slow down a bit. Then again, life with a toddler is anything but slow.

While the weather may have ruined all of our birthday plans (which included a picnic at the park to see the ducks and a visit to the zoo for a train ride), we didn't let that keep us from celebrating in grand toddler fashion.

Cars.
Trains.
A dunking contest.
A walk with the dogs.
The annual tradition of tree planting.
How much birthday fun could one little boy take in a day? We found out - quite a lot.

The boy is slightly obsessed with cars (or really anything with wheels) so we started off the day playing cars and surprising him with a parking garage that goes with the road/rail set we started at Christmas. I considered it a big hit since he couldn't tear himself away to watch his favorite show, "Dinosaur Train."



And speaking of trains, I had made train cakes the night before for us to decorate together. So much for that idea. After taking two bites of a cake and sampling a few of the candy decorations, he was done. I tried my best to channel my inner-Martha Stewart but she must have been on vacation.



Does it really matter what the cake looks like when there's icing?



Craig may have a little coaching to do now that Park is running full speed and testing his athletic abilities. After a good nap, Park was ready to take dad on for a little one-on-one basketball. While he's a pro at dunking, Park hasn't figured out how to shoot just yet. (I see a Shocker jersey in his future.)



Life has sure changed dramatically since Park joined our family two years ago. We are so stinkin' lucky.

Meanwhile back in Marwencol …

A while back, I shared the inspirational work of Vivian Meir. Today, I'd like to share the equally inspiring world of Mark Hogancamp … and when I say "world," I mean it.

The Reader's Digest version of Mark's story is this, eleven years ago he was severely beaten and repeatedly kicked in the head by five men outside a bar in Kingston, New York. Awakened after a 9-day coma, he had no language, couldn't walk and couldn't eat without assistance. For twelve months, the ex-Navy shipman received state-sponsored physical and occupational therapy and regained many of his motor skills. However, without medical insurance, he was soon unable to afford the treatments.

That's when Mark created his own therapy.

As a way to cope with his new life after the attack, Mark built Marwencol, a Nazi-besieged, World War II-era town in his backyard. He populated the model town with miniature alter egos of him and his friends. Each one is a personality in his anachronistic narratives, which he tells through staged photographs that read like frames in a comic book.

For more on Mark's story and to see stills of his work (which are absolutely incredible) go here.

In the meantime, here's a trailer of the move that's been made about his life and the world of Marwencol.

Enjoy.

Feeling sucker punched

They say bad things happen in 3's, and after the last two weeks I believe it. I've heard enough bad news about loved ones (and even a complete stranger) to last a long time.

It started with having to put the family dog down we've had since my junior year in college. Brutus. Such a big name for a little guy. Even though he was 45-pounds smaller than Zoe and Luka, he didn't seem to notice. And he got so excited when Park came to visit.

The same day we said goodbye to Brutus, we got a call that my aunt (my dad's sister) in Phoenix had had a stroke. And today we learned that my great uncle (grandma's brother) has inoperable cancer. In the midst of the Howard family crisis, I learned that a little girl (5-years-old) I only met through a friend's blog is losing her battle with cancer. It's all so heartbreaking and such a good reminder not to take a day for granted. Hug your loved ones. I know I will.

Being productive? Here, let me take care of that.

Recently (the past two to three years or so) I've become pretty passionate about the world of social media. I truly believe it's the present—and future of … well … everything (for better or worse). And as weird as this may sound coming from an advertising guy, I'm convinced that it has effectively killed advertising. There's no getting this genie back in the bottle, no one is ever going to want to be less connected than they are right now. It's all about engagement from here on out.

OK, enough lecturing, instead, let me just do what social media is all about and "share."

Through all of the stuff I read in books and online, I'm constantly stumbling upon new (or at least new to me) social media outlets. The latest of which is appropriately named StumbleUpon. Basically you tell the site what kinds of things you're interested in and then it feeds you websites, or just pages within sites, you never would have found on your own. It's kind of like a mix between a search engine and Pandora. Sure there are some misses but more often than not, you'll find something that's right up your alley and before you know it … crap, it's 5:00.

Here is a sampling of what StumbleUpon pulled for me this afternoon.

Ah … pretty … and inspiring.

Four dogs napping in a sunbeam

… like it.

Always looking for a new recipe (to pass on to Carrie).

So what is the deal with the chocolate grinder?

Good in concept, but if Train came on my iPod I would probably run into traffic.

We really, really need to plan a vacation.

The not-so-bionic man

Apparently I'm a genetic freak. Unfortunately not in a good way. I've started going back to physical therapy this week for the Iliotibial band (IT band) syndrome that has been dogging me ever since my last long training run for the Houston Marathon—an affliction that made me feel like someone shot me in the side of the leg at about mile nine and every step thereafter (to accompany the bone contusion I had in the same knee). Anyway, on my first day at therapy, my PT called someone else over just to show off how messed up I was—never a good sign. On Tuesday I went back, and this time my therapist marveled at the size of a boney knob I have on the side of my knee as well as the fact that he could actually see my IT band sticking out of the side of my leg—again not a good sign. Supposedly I was just born this way (much like Lady Gaga, or not). This wasn't the first time I've been told that I'm a little messed up. A couple of years ago I went to the doctor to check out some shoulder pain I had been having and after some X-rays I was told I had an extremely large "hook" in one of my bones. At this rate, I'm starting to get the impression that if he was still alive, Michael Jackson might be interested in purchasing my skeleton to sit alongside the Elephant Man.

Probably the most interesting thing that came out of this week's therapy was the fact that I spent 24 hours with a battery-powered, anti-inflamatory-containing bandage strapped to my leg. Oh, and I had to shave a patch of leg hair off for the next time.