A Flashlight That Is Set Upon a Head Cannot Be Hid

Halloween again. Which means I continue my tradition of creating a costume out of cardboard and duct tape to be fitted on my head.

This year, the idea for my costume came from Lora, who said one day in July, "Dad, you should be a flashlight for Halloween."

And so I was. (And with a headlamp affixed, I was a fully functioning flashlight...)

Ian was an Orioles player, Lora was a candy corn, Isabel was Tinker Bell, and Tess was a ghost. And Heidi was the cranky lady who stayed home to give out candy.

NEXT STOP: Ian Goes to War

So They Think They Can Dance

Scenes from Lora and Isabel's dance classes this past spring. Tess managed to steal some camera time, too.

NEXT STOP: A Bright Idea for Halloween

In Six More Years, It Won't Be So Cute When Ian Speeds

Ian is only six years away from obtaining a driver's license. If these shots are any indication, we should all be afraid -- very afraid.

NEXT STOP: Dancing Queens

My Wife, the Unabomber

I took the summer off from blogging, as you can see by the five-month gap between posts. Now I return to the blog with the shot I am most proud of. Ever.

My wife, the unabomber.

This was snapped at Boondocks. What makes the shot scrapbook-worthy -- beyond the hoodie pulled suspiciously low and the nefarious sunglasses -- is Heidi's primal scream.

Chilling.

NEXT STOP: Ian Drives Fast and Flashes Gang Signs

Faces at Boondocks

We took the kids for a day at Boondocks about a month ago. Boondocks has two go-kart tracks, miniature golf, bumper boats, batting cages, rock climbing, an arcade, laser tag, and other assorted noisy things that kids love.

At the park, I was approached by a man who said, "You look really familiar. Have we worked together?" He said his name was Rod Williard, and in a moment, my memory clicked. He had grown up in the same stake as me in Maryland. He had attended the Rockville Ward and I was in Potomac South. He was best friends with the son of one of my mom's friends, Lou Fisher.

In any case, we stood there and yapped for about 30 minutes, catching up. It's nice to run into blokes from Maryland who grew up there at the same time. I don't have a photo of him to add to the blog, but we exchanged numbers, and vowed to get together for dinner. Perhaps he and his family will appear in a future post.

In this post, I feature close-ups of the kids. In the next post, I will feature a few action shots of bumper-boating and go-kart racing.

NEXT STOP: The Uni-Bomber! and Other Stuff

H.R. BunnyStuff -- Reflections on the Easter Bunny that Visited My Kids

For Easter, our kids attended an Easter egg hunt at their cousins' house. While at the house, the Easter Bunny paid a visit. And for some reason, the Easter bunny creeped me out. Maybe it's the hollow eyes. Or the serious, almost perturbed, purse of the lips. This is a face that says, "I'll visit your house while you're sleeping, sure, but if you don't take precautions, I may maul you."

This is a bunny spawned from the psychedelic surrealism of Pink Floyd's "The Wall," or from the whacked-out world of Syd and Marty Kroft ("H.R. Pufnstuf" -- see image above).

Thankfully, my kids were charmed by the Easter Bunny rather than unsettled. And my reaction is more a reflection upon me than upon the bunny. (Although if I woke up in the middle of the night on Easter Eve, stumbled sleepily into the living room, and discovered this particular bunny standing there in the dark, I do believe I would shriek, do a cowardly little dance, and knock myself out on a corner as I sprinted wildly away from the dead-eyed hopper.)

NEXT STOP: A Day at Boondocks

An Interlude with Hannibal Lechter

Before I blog about the psychedelic Easter Bunny, I needed to embed this link from NBC's "The Office." It is a scene that marries two of my favorite characters: Dwight from "The Office" and Hannibal Lechter from Silence of the Lambs.

(Now that I've typed that, I'm wondering if it is a misstep to admit publicly that one of my favorite fictional characters is Hannibal Lechter. Contrast this with my wife's favorite characters from Jane Austen and my mom's from Anne of Green Gables. Oh well. Up with cannibals.)

My Son, The Creature

There are some things in this life that must be dealt with immediately. Like ingrown toenails. And flat tires. And infestations of break dancers. And occasionally, your son -- if he happens to be a werewolf.

Ian is showing all the classic signs of becoming a werewolf: Claw-like nails. Ravenous hunger. And during the full moon, his face transforms into this snarl (see photo above).

Creepy.

For now, instead of shooting silver bullets at him, I find that throwing chocolate at him seems to keep him at bay.

NEXT STOP: A Visit from the Easter Bunny (If the Bunny Were Visiting from Pink Floyd's "The Wall")

Heidi Works the Kitchen Catwalk

Heidi, on the way to church, strikes an alluring pose. (Her "alluring" face looks eerily similar to her "annoyed with Chris" face.)

NEXT STOP: What Ian Looks Like During the Full Moon

Sabbath Zombie

Whoa.

And just like that, nearly two months zoomed by between my blog posts. Although, frankly, blogs are passe now. Apparently, the new thing is to live-feed your Twitter posts onto your Facebook using your iPhone.

(This is a sentence that, two years ago, would have been considered gibberish in English; I'm not so sure it isn't gibberish to me now. Twitters and tweeting and all the rest -- bah. It is strange that we now think of e-mail as a good-old-fashioned way to communicate. I'm not sure which is more disturbing: the fact that technology has passed me by or the fact that I'm ranting about it like a cantankerous old curmudgeon. When did I become a curmudgeon? And should I be alarmed that I find myself enjoying curmudgeonhood?)

Alas, I'm back. I had left off ready to post about a rare day off from the usual,hectic Sunday routine of prepping the family for church, herding all to church, and then surviving the miscellaneous and sometimes tedious adventures at church. Tess was sick that weekend, the last in March I believe it was. I drew the duty to stay home with her. Just before the other kids departed with Heidi to head to church, one of them, Lora or Isabel, snapped this shot of me.

What was I doing? Apparently I express the joy of an unexpected day off from church by zombie-shambling through the kitchen in search of brains.

NEXT STOP: Heidi's Sexy Vibe

Freebasing on a Train

In Holland, where Heidi served a mission, the country is much more permissive about drug use. In fact, marijuana is legal, and while the harder stuff ain't, Heidi tells me that the laws prohibiting harder drugs are not rigorously enforced.

So, while Heidi and her companion were commuting one day, they discovered a passenger in the seats behind them freebasing. You can see him and his crew behind the fortuitously posed (and mocking in a coke-snort sorta way) Sister Thurston.

While the drug use photo had been my favorite from Heidi's mission, she discovered this other one in the process of searching her big box o' photos, and now this is my new favorite: Heidi all dolled up in tradtional Dutch lady-wear. (Ooh-la-la).

I dig her crazy Oompah-Loompah hat, the barrel-shaped candy-cane colored skirt, and the elfin-pointy wooden clomper shoes. It all screams "HOTTIE." Who needs drug hallucinations when one can see someone dressed like this?

Mea culpa to all of Heidi's Dutch friends who may read this and be offended by my off-handed remarks about the traditional dress of their culture. Forgive this ugly American.

NEXT STOP: Ferris Bueller's Day Off from Church

A Friend from Holland

In January, Heidi's friend from her mission in Holland, Paula Achuo, stayed at our house for a weekend. Her daughter, Chantal, and our daughter, Lora, hit it off rather smashingly.

And speaking of Heidi's mission, on the next post, I shall share my favorite photo of her missionary days in the Netherlands.

NEXT STOP: Heidi's Holland

Various Unflattering Photos of Myself, Part I

This entry will be the first in an ongoing series. Certainly I have no shortage of raw material -- bins of various unflattering photos of myself -- to draw on. I'll try to zero in on the mildly amusing ones and veer away from the nightmarishly hideous ones. Of course, some might argue that all the images in this series are simultaneously amusing AND hideous. I'll grant that there's probably some merit to that argument.

Today's freak show is courtesy of Brigham Young Univeristy, where I teach part-time.

Twice a week, eight months out of the year, I teach a night class of Freshman Composition at BYU. BYU maintains strict dress and grooming standards. For example, men cannot have long hair or goatees. Because Heidi prefers me with long hair and a goatee, I allow my mane and chin to grow shaggy in the teaching off-season (summers and the Christmas break between semesters). However, I need to hit the barbershop once I'm back in class.

These photos document the night before a haircut. For the occasion, I muffed up my hair and tried to look like an uber 1970s-era disco schmuck.

At least I got the schmuck part down.

These photos also reveal that middle age is creeping across my face: you can see the birth of a well-fed waddle between chin and neck; the flesh beneath my eyes beginning to sink in; the perma-creases on my forehead.

In my mind, I still feel fairly spry; but after looking at these pix, it's not so difficult to believe that 2009 marks my 20th year since graduating from high school.

NEXT STOP: Dutch Invasion

Father Falls Best: The Family's First Ski Adventure

Thanks to the immense generosity of my nephew, Johnny Graham, and his wife, Kaley, we were able to take the kids (minus Tess, who spent the day with Aunt Ruth) skiing at Snowbird.

Johnny snagged us free passes that he has access to from his work, discount ski clothing, and free equipment rentals. We would not have been able to afford this otherwise. Then, he and Kaley accompanied us and worked with our kids, freeing Heidi and I to make a few runs of our own.

It's been over a decade since I last skiied. "It can't be THAT difficult to pick up where I left off," I thought to myself.

As it turns out, it WAS that difficult. For me, anyway. Heidi zoomed back into action, elegantly and deftly zig-zagging her way down the mountain. I zoomed, too: a tumbling zoom of flailing arms, legs, skis, and poles as I wiped out at various points on the slope. Heidi found great amusement in this and snapped a photo of one of my upendings (see above).

Things only got worse for me after Heidi and I took a wrong turn, and the only way back to our lift was down a black diamond slope. Fortunately, Heidi went first and was unable to photographically document my awkward, freakishly absurd descent, interrupted by multiple, powdery mishaps with gravity.

The kids, however, picked up skiing quite quickly, and Ian was really cruising.

Perhaps if we're lucky, we'll make it back to the slopes before another decade passes.

NEXT STOP: Hair Gone Bad

Chef Lora and Chef Isabel Boil Stuff

On Sunday, Lora and Isabel, hungry, commandeered the kitchen like they were hosting their own cooking show. They needed help getting the water boiling for hot dogs, but after that, they faithfully watched the food, asking every 10 seconds, "Are they ready?" This was cute the first five times.

Next week, we'll try boiling something else.

NEXT STOP: Eating Snow and Fearing Death--Or, How My Body Forgot How to Ski