The Hairstyle Hierarchy

       For most guys, there are basic hairstyles to fashion yourself with.  The bald look.  Easy.  You shave your head via clippers or razor and that's it.  No barbers, stylists or the outrageous fees that accompany their visits.  The part.  Whether down the middle or on the side, this is a common classy look.  Easy.  Throw a bit of gel in it to keep the wet look or, if you have better hair, let it dry and it miraculously stays like that until the next morning.  The hat.  My personal favorite.  I have a hat for every occasion.  The work hat, the casual hat and the dress hat (all of which have some sort of Boston sports insignia strewn across the front).  If the occasion is too formal for the hat, I throw in some gel and avoid mirrors at all cost.  To avoid being douchebag bias, we'll include "the messy look".  I don't want any orange-skinned, duck-lipped picture posing gentlemen thinking I have anything against them.  As far as the hair department goes, the average male has it pretty easy.

       Into our life comes baby.  Baby girl.  Beautiful, innocent, loving, with a head full of hair that Mommy and Auntie and Nay Nay have such a pristine vision for.  If you stay-at-home dads do not share, nor possess the knowledge of how to materialize such visions, there are certain staples in female hairstyles that need to be learned if you are to ever be successful in the art of getting them "mommy ready". 

THE PART

       Everyone with hair longer than an inch or two has a part.  Little girls are no different.  The two most common parts are down the middle (yes it's as easy as it sounds) or on the side.  The side part can go on the left or right, with one long side and one short side.  The part is essential for all lengths of hair.  Assuming the child has hair beyond shoulder-length, the part is the gateway for most of the necessary hairstyles.  I must note that, if long enough, the hair can go without a part, but let's just get the basics down before we go striving for Paul Mitchell status.  In the words of the great Mr. Miyagi, "You want learn punch, Daniel-San?  First learn balance."

THE PONYTAIL

       Seems simple.  Pull all of the hair back and throw a band in it.   Voi la!  To some, sure, easy as pie.  To most fellas, no matter what you do, it just doesn't look quite right.  I hate to disappoint, but I have no hidden secrets to divulge.  It's just practice.  No matter the type of part in the hair (or if it is straigh back), just keep brushing it back into your hand, where you should have the rest gathered, and get it tighter and tighter.  This is better practiced when you have ample time on your hands and not before school when you are already 10 minutes late and your child looks like the Bride of Frankenstien.  That, I can attest too.  You also need a patient child.  I suggest a favorite show or movie be put on when in a practice session.  Once the ponytail is mastered, you have begun your journey.

THE CLIP/BOBBY PIN

       If you are like me and have lost the battle of the bangs, you need to learn how to pin those suckers back.  This will help keep the hair out of her face, and the wifey out of yours.  This one is pretty simple.  Once the part is established and/or the ponytail is set, take the loose hair still dangling around and place it tight with the grain of the rest of her hair.  Take the clip or pin and slide it, one side going over all of the hair involved, the other under it as close to the scalp as you can.  In my travels I have found that the clips that snap open and closed, or off and on, work the best.  Open-ended pieces tend to take finer motor skills, which can be developed at a later time, when hair skills have been refined. 

       If your wife/girlfriend comes home to a child who's hair is washed, brushed, parted, pulled back and clipped, she should be happy and borderline impressed.  I might even go as far as suggesting some sort of gratuitous act to show here sincere appreciation.  If your valiant attempt goes unnoticed or is taken for granted, may I suggest that all gratuitous acts toward said significant other be withheld until the hard work, practice and frustration put forth to make your little daddy's girl look beautiful be noticed.  Good luck, guys. 

Photographing Children

Not to blow my own horn, but I'm a pretty good photographer. Better than good. So good in fact, people actually pay me to do it. I get compliments on my work all of the time and people are amazed by some of the shots I manage to capture of their children. I am frequently asked by friends, family and other parents many different questions with the number one question being "what is the secret?" Well hold onto your horses cow pokes because I am about to give away the biggest secrets a baby and child photographer has. You all knew there was a secret, but nobody ever blabbed about it; like a secret button on the camera or a program that is super secret that has to be passed from professional to professional. Well I assure you that there are no magic or secret buttons, nor is there a program to make all of your photos look professional, though there are some that come very close but are mis-used by amateurs. The real three part secret to taking incredible children's photographs is as follows:

1. Know how to work your camera. 
When I say know how to work it, I mean you should be able to make adjustments on the fly, without looking. Your kid could not care less that you really want these pictures to come out better than your pretentious asshole brother's Christmas card photo, so you have to be able to make adjustments quick to get the shot you are looking for. The best photos are lost in the moments you are looking at your camera and fumbling with the buttons, so learn to work your camera with the same skill and ability as you have when you wake up to piss at 3 in the morning. If you're the type who can's take a piss on auto-pilot without peeing all over yourself or the floor, especially if you're a woman, you have bigger issues than taking pictures and should be back in the group home for a little longer before tackling society. 

2. Keep the camera up to your eye at all times. 

You child, unless he/she is a lazy little fatty who will do your bidding for candy or gravy in a sippy cup, has the attention span and energy of a coked up hummingbird. They stop occasionally and 90% of the time, its when you take the camera away from your eye. If you want their attention, employ a friend or an assistant. Don't be a hero, as it will just result in shitty pictures. 

3. Be lucky. 

No, really, be lucky. Photographing children is like roulette. You are the player, the child is the casino. The house wins 99% of the time. If your kid saw something that he didn't like moments before the shoot; the session is going to suck!  Sees something behind you that distracts him? The session is going to suck! His outfit is itchy? Knock knock...who's there? Its going to suck! Truth be told, there are untold numbers of ways that a child can non-verbally tell you to fuck off when you ask them to "sit still" or "hold on for just one more good shot". If you are truly lucky, you can parlay one of those instances into a cute photo, but the odds are completely stacked against you! Luck comes into play if you want to have a go at making a living as a children's photographer. Were you born with a penis? If so, you may as well just give up and focus on photographing food in a dark warehouse. Don't want to do that? Well, You are going to have to get married and have children, or at the very least, have children of your own with a willing female that you can practice on. Shoot them morning noon and night. Every landmark occasion, every dumb activity, and every stupid face they make. Build a portfolio that way and then you can move on to your friends' children if you prove to be good enough. I should also mention that even if you are a man with children and thousands of great photos of them; if your children are ugly, you're back to the warehouse with your fruit. I'm an overweight, bald, loudmouth, but because my girls are freakishly adorable, people who hire me to shoot their children look past those qualities in hopes that I can make their children appear as beautiful as mine. Once you have clients, you need to be lucky to get the ones who have cute kids. So far, I have been lucky on this front too. Cute kids make better pictures. Better pictures make more people want to hire you! 

Those are the secrets! Get out there and make me proud!

Pervert Elf

I knew he was a pervert!

In the summer, he runs a youth football camp at Penn State

The Scumbag Photographer

I'm going to make you a star!

"You know what would look good?
If you took your top off slowly.
The lighting will make them wicked artistic." 

Scumbag Elf 4: Worst of the Worst

Never date a Flyers fan; even if she shaves her mustache.

Indefensible Mr. Elf, indefensible. 

Scumbag Elf 3: The Extremist

Oh Elf, how could you?

Ironically, he's not edible pork until he's dead!

Scumbag Elf: Father of The Year

"Just shut up and act natural sweetie and you will
get your precious dolly back in one piece."

Presenting: The Adventures of Scumbag Elf

Its every Space Ranger's worst nightmare!

Sweetie? Are you back there? Surpri... Oh god... Oh god!
You're a whore! You're a dirty whore! And you! I trusted you! 

Very Pissed Daddy

So this evening, after my wife came home from work, I took a shower and then sat down at my computer to a slew of open messages. The unifying topic: "did you make a Facebook page for your girls?" This was followed by the same question from my wife who added, "I just got a friend request from our girls." I checked it out, and sure enough, there was a profile set up in my daughters' names, featuring photos of them, intentionally misspelled status updates and open friend requests to everyone that I know. The person responsible even went as far as liking Whiskey Nap on Facebook. At this point, I was fuming and could only think about choking-out whomever was responsible.  My first order of business was to report it. To my surprise, FB had taken the profile down immediately while someone reviewed the report. This would later become a full removal of it all together. My next order of business was to update the privacy settings on my account; nobody aside from my "friends" can see or, more importantly, download any of my pictures to use in such a way ever again. I suppose now the only thing left to do is sit and wait till whom ever the dip-shit is cops to being responsible. I have a few theories.

The sad thing is, it was not a bad idea: a profile in my kids names to provide "their point of view" on the shit they put me through on a daily basis could have been pretty damn funny. If only the person had given me the idea or at the very least gotten my blessing. (That's assuming that this was the work of someone that I know.)

Toy of the Year!

This weekend, the family and I took a day trip with some friends to Kringle Candle in Bernardston MA. (Its a real town, I swear; in the part of Massachusetts where it is more important to have a truck than a full set of teeth or a grade school education.) While there, the kids and I had a blast going through their on-site toy department. The place was set up to look like a functioning Santa's Workshop, with all of the toys for sale looking like they could have been manufactured by the Jolly old elf himself. Very few things for sale there required batteries, in fact, a large percentage of the toys for sale were high quality wood or composite. They did have some modern toys, but they were mostly along the lines of Melissa and Doug... Toys that fed the kid's imagination as well as their insatiable need to be entertained 100% of the time. While we were there, we made a discovery so awesome, that we purchased it on the spot due to both of our girls being fascinated by it. Had we bothered to do a quick search on our phones, we would have found it much cheaper than they were selling it for, but that doesn't change the fact that I am naming it My toy pick of the year.
Presenting the Buddha Board. Available in several colors, the BBoard is a great way to keep your little brats entertained while ensuring they don't make a mess. It's a slate board and bamboo brush that uses water to "paint". It's laptop-esque design makes it great for travel and it dries quickly enough to keep them painting over and over, but not so fast that their art disappears before they can finish.
I must admit, the BBoard has become a favorite of mine to play with as well as it is strangely settling to my ADHD brain! Like their website says, Buddha Board is based on the Zen concept of living in the moment.  I'm a big fan! (oh, the girls like it too!)

I'm not receiving anything for this glowing review of this product that we love, but if anyone at the Buddha Board company is reading this...do the right thing! ;-)

Why it's so much easier to go to work than stay home with the kids!!!

The following is an account of one of the worst evenings in memory through the eyes of my wife Heather.
The names and locations have not been changed to protect us, as we are not worthy of such protections.

I had great plans for this week.  Had Monday and Tuesday off, leaving a blissfully short week at work.  A working dinner Wednesday night, paid for by my manager (with Booze), off site meeting on Thursday with free breakfast and lunch (I like food and free is my favorite) leaving only Friday as a boring normal work day.  Unfortunately, The girls and Jimmy's stomach had other plans.  I start getting text messages as soon as I arrive at dinner.  They go as follows, J's are Jimmy and H's are me:

J  5:00 - Can you pick up some powdered Miralax on your way home? I'm getting sick of Sloane constantly smelling like shit.
J  5:01 - Oh, when you get the Miralax, get a Powerball ticket too
                               H  - OK

J  5:05 - Still nauseous

J  5:15 - I'm actually sick
                               H - Want me to bring home some soup or something, or leave the meal now?
J  5:17 - No

J  6:02 - How far are you from home?
                               H - Maybe 45 min to an hour
J  6:03 - Forget the laxative and the Powerball, just get home as soon as you can!
                               H - Food hasn't come but I will leave as soon as I get it.
J  6:04 - Seriously?
                               H - Yes, I'm sorry, I'll leave really soon, the girls OK?
J  6:05 - Quinn is crabby, Sloane is being obnoxious, smells like shit and refuses to clean herself and I'm throwing up.
                               H - So sorry, be home as soon as I can.

J  6:42 - Your daughter wiped her shit all over the side of the bed.  I'm not referring to Quinn.

J  6:50 - I'm done.  Fucking done.  The girls are no longer in my care for the night. And they are no longer allowed in our room. Period.


Made excuses to my Boss and coworkers.  I grabbed the steak I ordered and ate it in the car (with my hands) on the way home, leaving a barely touched glass of wine and dreams of a nice dessert.  I got home around 7:20 (after driving the fastest I've ever driven on windy dark back roads) and actually stopped outside the front door.  I really didn't want to walk into what was sure to be a war zone, but I sucked it up and opened the door.  Surprisingly, it was quiet.  That scared me more than noise and yelling would have.  Don't turn around and run away, Don't turn around and run away, Please let them be alive ...

Living room - no people, Play-doh everywhere
Kitchen - no people, pickles everywhere
Hallway - finally see Jimmy, white as a ghost.  He looks like he is either going to kill me or pass out from exhaustion.
Bedroom - Quinn, in her usual way, comes running up chipper and happy, yelling Mommy and gives me a hug as if nothing happened.  I note that she is not clothed.
Bathroom - Sloane, I find out, has locked herself in to avoid Daddy.

What followed is a blur.  Keep children away from Daddy, Clean up poop with kid's help (must teach lesson), clean up child, talk to child about why poop should only be in the potty, start load of laundry with child to clean sheets, feed children, keep children away from Daddy, clean children again, dress in PJ's, have children apologize to Daddy, attempt to put them down to bed, run out to buy Miralax, ginger ale and a Powerball ticket, console Daddy with a cold glass of ginger ale with a straw, get ready for bed, have child wake me up at midnight because of nightmare, put them back to bed, Child up again at 2:30, screw bed and put child on recliner in bedroom with blanket to sleep, other child wakes up at 4:00 calling for her sister, change diaper, convince both kids it's still night time, put them back in bed.  Alarm goes off at 6:00, try to wake up Jimmy, 6:30, try to wake up Jimmy, have to leave by 7 am at the latest to make 9AM meeting south of Boston, 6:50, try to wake up Jimmy, Give up and call in sick for work.

I honestly have no idea what I did with my time before I had children.
The previous story is true, to the best of my recollection, I couldn't make that up.
Thank God I get to go to work every day!!!

Fatherly Pride

My friend Zach has a 4 year old daughter, and like myself, isn't afraid to expose her to topics that some would see as inappropriate for children. Below is a recent conversation between the two while on a drive.

Irie: "daddy we have to prepare for the zombies."
Zach: "ok how do we do that?"
Irie: "I know how to kill them."
Zach: "really?"
Irie: "you have to destroy the brain"

Thank heaven for little girls,
for little girls kill walkers every day!

Knowing Zach, this was the equivalent to the level of pride one would take in their children if they were to ask to give away their toys to the poor. I can picture his eyes welling up and a single tear rolling down his cheek, because if my oldest had said this, that's exactly how I would react.

This has nothing to do with a 4 year old,
but boy oh boy what a zombie hunter!
JINKIES!

Aspirations

I blame the Toys-r-us catalog and their McDonalds kitchen play-set for the outcome of this conversation.

"Daddy, when I grow up, I want to be a doctor who saves babies from cancer."

"Wow Sloane, a pediactric oncologist is a noble profession."

"Yeah, I know. Maybe i'll work at McDonalds instead."

"Gee Sloane, you really know how to knock a guy's pride down a peg."

On the plus side, at least she's keeping her options WIDE open

Dah, dah, dah, dah, dah... oncology!

Ladies and Gentlemen, Mark Wahlberg

Guy Fieri Sucks

Anyone who knows me well, or even casually, probably has heard me voice my disdain for the Food Network's experiment in douchebaggery that is Guy Fiery. I call him an experiment because that clearly the only explanation for this man. One day, a focus group comprised of 40+ year old southern and Midwestern housewives was locked in a room with sacks of body parts, assorted foodstuffs and a deep fryer, then told to create a man and a menu that "the kids would go crazy for". After 34 excruciating hours, their mission was complete: They gave him attitude, but the right kind of homogenized family-friendly attitude that stood up to the status quo, but only within reason... Leather studded bracelets, lots of rings and a gold chain. They wanted him to be "in your face" like the kid's say, but approachable and harmless. His original hair style was to be a Billy Ray Cyrus mullet, but a phone call to Phyllis' 8 year old granddaughter shifted their mindset towards "frosted tips" because she had a crush on an older boy at school with that haircut. His personal style came next, but unfortunately, the focus group was only supplied with a few boxes of left over clothing from Chess King, the now defunct Times Square WWF store and a bunch of Jeff Gordon merchandise from his DuPont years.
Finally, there is his "food". I cannot do any better than New York Times restaurant critic Pete Wells, so I'll simply provide a link to his recent review of Guy's great big times square sparkling turd. http://www.nytimes.com/2012/11/14/dining/reviews/restaurant-review-guys-American-kitchen-bar-in-times-square.html?pagewanted=1

EXTREME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

If Guy Fieri were a headlining rock band, his openers would be Nickel back and Smash mouth.

Those days

Every now and again, I experience days where I feel like I have no business raising my kids. Sometimes, those occasions are so demoralizing that I just throw my hands up in surrender like a Frenchman, turn my kids over to someone who knows what they are doing, and spend the rest of my life living under a bridge under the assumed name of Javier the Tramp, whose days consist of shouting matches with rats and perfecting my recipe for hobo chili, and avoiding getting shanked for my shoes at night... A relatively stress-free life when compared to raising two girls.
I often think to myself, "how do the 'perfect' parents do it?" (More realistically, 'perfect' moms... We stay at home dads are still a very small minority) what is the secret to living a life that would appear to have been plucked directly from the pages of Pinterest. How does one keep a child entertained while using television as a 'rare treat' reserved for milestone occasions, and only then for a half hour at a time? How do these moms get anything done around their houses? If it weren't for the Busytown Mysteries and the various programs on Disney Jr., my house would look like it belonged in an episode of hoarders.
Aside from TV related questions, I often wonder how they, not only get their kids to eat their vegetables, but also have time to do creative and fun things with their meals to get their kids to eat them?
I've gotten so off track that I had to go back and re-read the beginning of this post to remember what the hell I was writing about! Looks my Adderall has worn off! To my original point, raising kids is a really f##king difficult job. Anyone who tells you otherwise has never really had to do it.  There is no time off, even if you are out and the kids are with a sitter, your mind is still with them more than 50% of the time. You're always on call, and there is always a part of your brain that is thinking about a worst case scenario and how to deal with it if such an event arises. The worst part of the deal is what seems like a complete lack of respect from your societal peers and even your family.

Wow, I feel like I have just wasted your time! Sorry for the incoherent ramble session. It's been a long day and as I stated earlier, my Adderall has worn off.

Guest Entry

Today I am offering up a nugget of funny from an equally twisted and funny woman-daddy (some people know this species as a "mommy") I first met Cassy and her husband Chris, long before they had their adorable daughter Charlotte, when they tapped me to photograph their wedding and engagement. We often ask ourselves "why do we not hang out with these awesome people?" because they are very similar to us in many respects. Well, we have formed a long-term facebook-exclusive friendship with them because Cassy doesn't drive (she grew up in the city where a car is just an unnecessary expense) and when Chris is around, they have a life. (damn show-offs) Oh we also live almost two hours from them, and even our closest friends will only make the trek 2 times a year! OK, that's enough of the storied history of the Paquette-Morin connection, time to get to the point. This morning she posted something on facebook that hit home:

Since Charlotte watches very little TV, it proves to be a great distraction when I take a shower because she is always so engrossed in it. However, the past few days she has had the need to come into the bathroom every few minutes to let me know what's going on. Here's what she said today:
- Oh no mommy, water fell off the couch!
- Mommy, watch me go potty!
- Abby Cadabby's on!
- Mommy, look, an eyelash!

- You okay, Mommy?
- I'm watching Sesame Street!
- All clean, mommy?
- Tissue please!

- Mommy, watch me go potty again!

I am taking the time to write this to reply to her with a sad reality: This may be a new thing for Charlie, but know that it is only the beginning! Soon she will discover the art of flushing the toilet while you are in the shower, sneaking up on you and scaring the hell out of you, and of course, announcing that she is doing something destructive, thus forcing you to do a nude 40 yard dash through the house to avoid the repercussions of whatever it is she decided to destroy!.

Good Luck!

I Need A Play Cafe

If you were to ask me what I miss most about living in Massachusetts, I would seriously put The Great Escape Play Cafe at the top of my list. Now, there are a lot of places in the area around me that cater to young kids, but they seriously do not compare. Why, there is a place less than a mile from my front door, but it has no real amenities; its basically a retail space with pastel walls filled with a few toys and art supplies, yet they still manage to charge $8 per kid for admission. I'm sorry, but I'm not paying $16 bucks for my kids to play with the same toys they have at home.

Welcome to Kidz Fun Zone.
(all patrons must sign a waiver as there is broken glass, literally, all over the place)
Please don't expect much from the staff, they're not "all-there" if you know what I mean

---

The other popular option, of which there are about a dozen in the area, is "inflatable playgrounds". Yup, bounce houses; indoors. The nicest of these places in this area has a seating area in the front, with a rather depressing "Cafe", while the worst of these places is THE SAME EXACT THING! As an adult, you're paying $10 per kid to develop a nice pounding headache.

I would happily punch a baby to make the pain stop

"Where does the headache come in", you ask? Well, for those of you familiar with how an inflatable bounce house works, you know that there is a big blower that constantly supplies air to what is essentially a large semi-porous balloon that smells like plastic and vomit residue. That blower isn't really all that loud when you are near one that is outdoors, however, move that same blower indoors, into a space with some type of sound reflecting walls (because it would just kill the owner's bottom line to put up a little g-damn sound dampening, right?), and multiply it by between 10 to 20 blowers, and you have a very loud mid-tone hum that permeates your skull and pokes at the part of your brain that headaches are made. On top of the sound, there are the children shrieking in either horror or excitement depending on the exact moment in time. Another down side is that these places are popular with day camps and other large groups of kids, usually between 8 and 12 years old, and as the father of the two year old who just wants to go up and down the slide, I am constantly finding myself holding back the urge to punch a child squarely in the face for not paying attention and stepping-on, knocking over, or landing on my little bean. Don't even get me started on the "caretakers" or "counselors" that accompany these little beasts. I think what I don't like most about these places is that they might as well be rolling in field that has been flooded by an overflowing cesspool. Lets be realistic for a minute; these places host birthday parties on weekends. Birthday parties where kids are filled with pizza and sugar and then told to "go jump up and down for a while". Yup, that sounds like a great idea to me! I think its safe to assume that every square inch of these places is as clean as a men's room floor.

This doesn't occur in or near the restroom
at an inflatable playground  

---

The final location for indoor play that I will talk about is the ever popular, ever crowded mall play area, or "the yard" as I like to refer to it. At any given time, of any given day, this squishy-floored oasis of mid-mall rumpus time is full; usually with kids who are too old to be there. Late Wednesday morning on a school day; there is an unsupervised 9 year old in the corner with a pack of smokes rolled up in his sleeve and a cold icy look in his eyes that just scream out "I've seen some shit go down in my time." You want to ask him why he is not in school, but you also don't want to be knifed in front of your children by someone who won't face jail time and will probably hunt you down after the fact to finish the job.

"You bitches see the big tree, the turtle and the bunny? That's my corner and you best remember that less you wanna get cut"

If the threat of aggravated assault at the hands of a pre-pubescent boy doesn't scare you off, the overall sanitary conditions should. The first thing you notice is bare feet; dozens of bare feet on kids who will likely be, or have been, sent home from school  due to "hygiene issues." These little petri dishes that they call feet come in contact with every surface in the play area. EVERY SURFACE. This ensures that if your child didn't enter with a fungal infection, they are sure as shit leaving with one!

"Mama calls it my sexy feet spray to make my itchies go away!"

---

This brings me to my happy place. The Great Escape. There are many reasons that we love this place, but I have narrowed it down to three major points. They are as follows:

The People 

For some strange reason, most of the people I met there, especially Olga, were more receptive to me than any other place I have been around here. I'm a large bald man with a full beard. Most moms see me on the playground and peg me as a walking Amber Alert. I never felt that there. I would often be invited into conversations with complete strangers on a wide range of topics. Here, it seems, speaking to me or at the very least, eye-contact for a brief moment, is too much for most to handle. I end up being like the kid on the other side of the fence watching the other kids play. Lucky for me, that side of the fence is the direction the walkers will be coming from and I'll have ample time to escape and plan my next step in survival! (In a zombie situation, always, ALWAYS befriend the first person with a beard that you see. He is manlier and your chances of survival improve ten-fold)

Ron Swanson WILL be the last man standing in a zombie apocalypse.

---

The Barrier

TGE has a large windowed wall separating the play area from the cafe. When you have kids that are old enough to play on their own in there, you could let them run free while you sit back, drink your latte and dream about days past when you didn't have these little parasites sucking the life out of you at every chance they got. It is peaceful, relaxing and just plain good. Even on a bad day, all is still good. The most you have to worry about is telling your kid to "get back in there and play." They even have monitors keeping track of the kids at play.  You really can't ask for more.

Daddy can't hear you sweetie pie, he's in his happy place now

---

The Cafe

Ok, I was wrong when I said you can't ask for more, because if you're there, you're going to order a coffee or a latte, or a cappuccino the size of a bath tub. And its all damn good too! They have a bunch of snack options for the kids that are, wickedly, placed in their line of sight, but aside from that minor "daddy-can-I-have..." flaw, It's perfect. They make great panini for the grown ups, and plenty of kid-friendly options for lunch time as well, but if your kids are like mine, you can order them whatever you want to eat because you're going to be the one finishing 90% of their meal. Aside from the great coffee and food, there is just a nice vibe about the space that makes it ideal to read a book, get a little work done, play a board game or just stare at the wall in relative peace without your kids tearing at your psyche!

From my experience, the answer is always "not enough"

---

That should give you a good idea of why I truly miss TGE, and why, one day I hope to emulate their vibe in a shop of my own where I rule with an iron fist or an indifferent shrug, depending on what mood i am in that day. 

Politics as Unusual

Every so often, someone that I know does something so amazing that I am almost duty bound to share their work with the world. Today I am excited to share an incredible and adorable personal project of a very talented and very good friend of mine, Ashley Pizzuti of Pizzuti Studios Photography. Her "political" project is a welcome change to what has been a particularly nasty election season.

Select here to visit the project gallery. 

"I'm Chase and I approve this message"
Photo used with permission of Pizzuti Studios. 

26 lbs of Adorable Destruction

A silent child is always up to something they shouldn't be doing. I'll write that again because it bears repeating: A silent child is always up to something they shouldn't be doing.

I'm afraid you dont fully understand what I said.
A silent child is always up to something they shouldn't be doing. 

15 seconds is all the time she needs to create havoc. I turned my back on Quinn to make space on a shelf for a pan I had just finished cleaning and in this time, she went to town on a loaf of bread. She impressively poked a hole in every slice of what was a brand new loaf this morning, and she did so silently, a mere inches from where I stood. I blame myself for underestimating her destructive awesomeness. Now I have to go to the grocery store once again for more bread.