World's Stongest Man

Caught a little bit of the "MetRX World's Strongest Man" competition on ESPN this afternoon, which inavoidably makes me think of Cale. Not because he's particularly known for his feats of strength (well, other than his stringent gymnastics regimen, I suppose) but it just doesn't seem like New Years Eve without the World's Strongest Man competition, a glass of gin, and ol' Cale. In my memory, it seems like every New Years Eve from, say, 1972 to 2003 was spent in Las Vegas with Cale and Amy, though I'm sure, in reality, there were only a few years there together for the holiday (and I think one year we "substituted" Dan and Jill for Cale and Amy, though Dan and Jill are a riot in their own way). But still, what big hairy technicolor years they were. Gambling and prostitutes and cocktail weiners and no hotel rooms and outrageous costumes and lord knows what else? (A drive to Area 51, I recall...) That's what New Years Eve is to me – hookers and space aliens and our best friends in one weird soup.

What an absolute joy, then, to have seen Cale and Amy this past week up in Milwaukee on Wednesday night on into Thursday morning. Cale's brother runs a sushi joint up there, and he hosted us for quite a feast. Brother Colin and his gal Amy joined in, as did work pals of Cale's, and it was quite the shindig. Lots of sake, and later whiskey, and later still, cigars. And it was loud, and lively, and it was so good to see Cale and Amy and hear their laughter and to just hang with them for a little time, a visit that's always all too brief.

Perhaps that's why New Years with them always meant so much – life is too short, all too brief, and the turning of the year just confirms it, so what better way to face the fires of eternity and the questions of a new year than with your best friends by your side, laughing like damn fools. And watching the World's Strongest Man competition.

Happy New Year, Cale and Amy. Happy New Year, Iceland's Boris Bittlestrom, heaving that beer keg backwards over your head. Happy New Year, everybody.

So Long, 2006

So that was one heck of a year, huh? If you'd told me on New Years Day 2006 that I'd be waking up in a broken down old house in the suburbs of Chicago – a house that we believe we're ultimately going to on in the new year – on the last day of the year, I would have thought you crazy. Of course, I thought a lot of things were going to be one way at the start of 2006, and things are vastly different now.

I came across the image above about 2 months back, and it really captures the essence of what the past year has been like. I look at that picture and I see Terralee, I see Jason, I see Kris, I see a wealth of disagreeable people and losers and solutions and challenges and struggles. And I think that's what life is just like some years. (Especially, as it turns out for us, the even numbered years...)

Then I look at a picture like this one:
And in that picture I see all that matters – a family that loves each other, loves being together, loves this great city. It's been one hell of a trip to get here to this place today – far away from Minneapolis or the New Years' Eves we spent in days gone by in Las Vegas with Cale and Amy – but here we are, and we're toghether, just the four of us. Together, we're ready for the new year.

Horse Comes with Brush, Hunts Sarah Connor

In the wake of the Christmas holiday, we here at 1219 are all in love – with a horse! Yes, Butterscotch the Robot Horse, operating here under the pseudonym "Sally," has charmed us all. Her tender nussling, her gentle tail wagging, her whimsical whinnying, it's all magical. And just as the TV ad promised, she even came with a brush! Yes, Sally is amazing and a wonderful addition to our home.

Which is not to say Sally isn't all sorts of creepy. Because she is. I'll be sitting here in the office, the girls having gone up to bed, and I'll have forgotten to "power down" the horse for the night ("shut off" just doesn't seem the right phrase) and I'll be sitting here working away when that thing will start huffing and whinnying from the next room, its gears and servos whirring and clicking as it swivels its head back and forth, inviting you to come play with her. I half expect that at some point the horse will come trotting on over into the office while I'm working, or else, it will continue to just sit there in the other room quietly analysing the details of our home, our power grid, our communication channels, until eventually it becomes self-aware, arms itself with little back-mounted rocket launchers and machine guns, links up with the other 'Scotch'bots and takes over the world.

Of course, fighting against a world gone mad with violent robots might be just the thing Eddie Furlong, needs to get his act together again.

Here Comes Santa Claus...

Girls are asleep. Gifts are wrapped. Big gifts are assembled and fully functional. It's fun to be the Santa. Better get some sleep now – I have a feeling Aidan is going to be up early in the morning.

Happy Birthday, Dear Jesus...

Now that you're done singing along with R. Lee Emery, let's run down the rest of our Christmas Eve day. Got the girls up early to finish off Christmas shopping – we really and truly felt we needed to get Reesie just the right baby doll to go along with her new baby doll stroller Santa is allegedly bringing in the morning (I've seen it here in the house, so I think he did!) Rolled down to the old neighborhood and Timeless Toys, where the girls busied themselves trying on hats, like this fetching birthday number Reese is modeling, while I ran the newly purchased doll back to the car. (Man, when I think of all the years my own folks pulled that one on us...)

Although we have no set church home yet, we rolled on over to the one church we've actually visited once here Park Ridge, St. Luke's, for their 4pm Christmas Eve service. Aidan enjoyed it, Reesie cried, and I spent most of the time with her (and about 7 other parents with 18 month olds) out in the lobby, watching her climb steps and run around. Grabbed dinner out after church, and got the girls in bed at a decent hour, after leaving an appropriate snack for Santa and his reindeer, which Aidan laid out, and Reesie checked twice for quality purposes:


Lots of gift wrapping followed. Lots of gear to put together this year, so we decided to take care of that tonite. The most interesting challenge: unboxing and assembling that robot horse. Granny Kris bought that for the girls at the 11th hours. It was already going to be one of those big, big years for gifts; that horse really takes it to another place.

Following Our Own Star

I had meant to post this up on Christmas Eve "proper," the 24th, but it's been a busy day. Anyway, here goes:
Christmas Eve historically has found me deeply thoughtful about my place in the universe, or watching. Not so much growing up – dim memories of church and more people than I'd ever seen huddled together under candlelight pretty much cover it – but later, say, college, there was a lot of head-scratching and tv-watching. I can remember being home in Sauk on break from college, sitting up watching It's a Wonderful Life on local cable (before NBC snatched it up) or tuning in the Christmas morning broadcast from the Vatican. I remember a lengthy phone call one year, probably my freshman year of college, with a Wisconsin blonde (the younger sister of a student teacher ol' Cale and I had known in high school), and while our "relationship" never amounted to more than some half-remembered drunken whatever at a New Years Eve gathering, the conversation we had that night, wherein she discribed an elegant pastoral gathering of her siblings and extended family that evening, has definitely left a long term set of expectations for me of what Christmas Eve can and should be like for my family.

But back to our place in the universe, or rather, the place of my family. We still are neither here in Chicago nor in Minneapolis. Stuck in a journey, not moving forward or back. But we are together, in our "home town," and that's enough. In some ways, it reminds me of another family that you hear a lot about on Christmas Eve. Traveling from one place to another, fear and uncertainly ahead, but promises of a better future and plenty of hope in the saddlebags. As I recall, they didn't have the best of lodging in town intially, either.

Happy Festivus

Put up your pole! Air those grievances! It's time for Festivus! Bring on the Feats of Strength! Happy Festivus, gang.

At the Movies

We took Aidan to see her first movie in a real movie theatre today – the live action adaptation of "Charlotte's Web," over at the Pickwick theatre (which Aidan had nicknamed the "PIGwick" in honor of the occasion.) A trip to the movies had long been the incentive for her to get fully potty trained, and with that milestone recently, today's trip ushers in a new era for Lawrence family entertainment.

The movie itself was quite pleasant, and little Aidan literally spent the majority of the movie on the edge of her seat, preferring to let her feet dangle, rather than wedging herself way back in the chair in some sort of pike position. She enjoyed a nutritious and pricy snack of gummi bears, popcorn and fruit punch, and when not laughing at the entertainment or looking around at the expanse of the theatre venue, she would rest her head on Cindy or my arm.

It's interesting to note that the movie itself is about friendship and growing up and finding one's place in the world, just as our little Aidan passed a milestone of sorts today herself. It didn't help that the film's star, Dakota Fanning, bears a certain resemblance to Aidan. The scene with "Fern"(Fanning) eschewing her tomboyish overalls for a little yellow dress, donning pigtails with little red ribbons and running off hand in hand across the fairgrounds with the boy that has had a secret crush on her throughout the movie hit a little too close to home, I think. You're so proud that this little life that you help create, that was born out of your love, is growing up, is doing more, her horizons widening, and yet you can't but selfishly wish her to stay this age forever, little hands wrapped securely around your arm.

Still, despite that melancholy moment, there's always great joy at the theatre, and we're relieved to be back. Like a shared dream, the theatre has always been a chance to step outside of oneself, to think about anything but the particulars of your own life. More than escapism, it's a gift, I think, from those that do it well.

I spent some time last night appreciating the gift that was the original "Rocky" movie. You forget, with all the claptrap that followed – the Mr. T and the Thunderlips and the Ivan Drago and so forth – that the original "Rocky" wasn't a cartoon, but a genuinely well-written story, with fascinating characters and real emotions. And of course all that whoop-ass at the end. Life goes better with an uplifting sound track, I suppose.

Things always seem a little better at the movies.

For Our Friends Having Babies in the New Year

Look, I'll be honest with you: having a baby is hard work. Granted, I had to basically stand around and take pictures during the actual delivery of both of our girls, so I can't honestly say I fully understand the hardest part of the job. However, I'm willing to bet that as hard as it is for any mother to deliver one baby, it has to be easier than having 3 babies born out of two wombs all at the same time. Yowza.

Yo Ho Ho Ho

One final entrant for this year's "Magical Holiday Greetings" comes from local pals Tom and Kristy, and their son Aiden (with an E, or "Aiden V" as he's known in our house to prevent confusion...). Capturing some wonderful pirate-y goodness, their holiday photo is the essence of the pirate spirit, harrrr:
UPDATE:I've been informed that at the last minute, more cautious elements of Aiden V's family may have opted to go with something cuter, less "flipping-you-the-bird"-y. Still, nice outfit, Pirate Santa.

Letters from Harry

Letters from Iwo Jima hit the theatres yesterday, and the early word is that it is spectacular. The companion piece to Eastwood's Flags of Our Fathers, (which I am loathe to admit I have yet to see), "Letters" tells the Iwo Jima story from the Japanese point of view. While one review I've read suggests that the film is such an achievement it will actually have you rooting for the Japanese by the time the Americans land, it is no doubt at least in part a testament to the accomplishments of the Marines who fought and died at Iwo.

Some of those Marines are shown here in this picture I received recently in an email from Harry Anderson:It's best to let Harry describe these three in his own words:

"Here's a shot taken two weeks ago at the local cinema of three guys who served combat duty on Iwo. At the left is Fatso Anderson. Amidships and seated is my buddy from the Fifth Tank Battalion, Colonel Dwight Naylor, and on the right (but not playing with himself) is Matt Blakely, a Japanese-speaking intelligence officer (first looey) in the Fourth Division."

The accomplishments of these men are captured elsewhere (Harry's book "Once More," for instance) but what I know of them, they have earned every bit of respect due to them and all of the men at Iwo.

Turning from the frontlines on "The Porkchop" to the action on the homefront, we uncovered more "Letters from Harry" this past week. Moving a piano that had sate ensconced in the basement at 1219 since whenever they'd had it "finished" back in the day, we found some scribbling on the unpainted wall:
Documenting Harry's seemingly frequent attempts to rescue the basement from flooding (much as I'd do recently) the letters indicate a man taking a long view of history, even with mop in hand:

Still, a pleasant and unexpected little holiday gift from the much-younger-then Harry.

Holiday Hubbub

One of the finer recent holiday memories I can recall with some clarity is the "Holiday Hubbub" we hosted with the Target interactive marketing cats a few years back. There was bowling and boozing, I believe, and I remember Brien Grant dressed as Santa and taking down a lot of deer playing Buck Hunter or something. And later, there was a lot of karaoke and other things Santa shouldn't have been seen doing.

From left to right, you've got Chad Gourley, Ollie Bauer, me, Colleen Callahan and Chris Swenke (wearing my jacket, no less). A story to go with each on of those faces. Dan Hosteteler sent the whole batch of photos our way today, so go get into the spirit of the holiday with the Easter Bunny.

UPDATE: One of the elves present on that night in the Country Bar (seen above) also dropped us a line to share this Santa video. Yes, Virginia, there is no on-key Santa Claus...

Another Look at Holiday Greetings

In yesterday's holiday greetings appraisal, forget to identify a third category that's been making a strong showing for itself lately – the online holiday greeting. The best we've seen this year comes from design titan of the north and one of the most talented cats I've had the opportunity to work with, Mr. Jamey Erickson, on behalf of his design studio. So here, enjoy Jamey's holiday greeting. Not a lot of billable hours last month, we think. But what dedication to a bit.

Also, as the many kind remarks continue to come in concerning this Chicago Lawrence card (one couple tells us they've hung it in the center of their card display so its the first visitors see when entering the home), but as with anything in life, the final product is really only the culmination of repitition and dedication. Consider this outtake from our shoot over Thanksgiving weekend:



Temperamental actresses. A hunky male lead. This one's got it all! Aidan has that very classic three year old stance, Reese looks like she's asking for her motivation, and I seem to be looking for a sandwich.

This Week in Holiday Cards

Okay, people, the holiday cards are starting to find us and we sincerely appreciate it! Lots of holiday love coming our way, even from those of you that didn't sign anything or write us a message – we know you still love us! We're sure of it.

Of course, as mentioned earlier, the annual Chicago Lawrence holiday card love fest is currently winging its way to you (if you don't have it by now, you may be in the second run, which should get out this week – sorry. It's not like we love you any less...) And while historically we've shown a predilection for the "original" or "homemade" (that's 'ho-made' if you're in the Dells) card and have traditionally cast a questioning eye towards store-bought box cards or those Walgreens-special photo cards, we've got some early favorites and stand-outs again this year.

Leading the pack in the Store Bought category for at least the second year in a row comes holiday greetings from Rhonda and Joe Kottke! Their thoughtful card reads "I've come to wish you a Merry Christmas!" on the exterior, and has an "old-timey" illustration of a man in winter clothing being savagely mauled by a polar bear. "Here come the Holidays" the inside of the card reassures us. Last year they had some sort of office-pool elimation-round sports-tournament type bracketing structure for holiday characters or something, also very good, especially if I could remember the specifics. Still, always a nice hit on the holiday crackpipe from those two. (Truth be told, we consider any holiday greeting from Rhonda a true blessing, and we can't pass the season without thinking of seeing her in the Dominick's parking lot that one time and then everything that came after and how super glad we are to get holiday cards today from her and Joe. That last sentence there? Mostly for Rhonda and Joe. But true all the same. Happy Holidays, guys.)

Now, in the Photo Card category, where things can get notoriously dodgy, two stand-outs have emerged this year that nicely reflect the spectrum of what's possible, and how these cards can reach a higher standard of excellence. The first comes from our pals in Minnesota, the Levenhagens, whose holiday photo is just so delightfully composed and well-lit, and the family looks just so great in the warm light of the image, that frankly, we'd just hang this photo in our home, possibly over the fireplace, just to make us look like we knew fancy-folk. It's the sort of picture that sometimes comes with picture-frames, reminding you that your family is probably never going to look this golden or good. Really, nicey done guys. Here, take a look:
Equally magical is the photo from Reedsburg, Wisconsin residents and friends of the family, Eric and Erin Schultz, who sent us a cheery holiday greeting with this image attached:Looks like their boys have had more than enough holiday cheer for the year. Somewhat the spiritual antipode to the card above, but no less magnificent in its goals. Nicely done, guys!

So congratulations to our winners, and keep those cards coming.

Back to the Future

Okay, enough of this over-the-shoulder-thoughtful-holiday-ruminating stuff. Time to get back to the regular cheese.

Before we move on, I will add this: the holiday weekend with the family was very lovely. The Highway 12 rehabilitation, now completely complete to the casual observer, is a dream to the out of town visitor. The Tom Jones classic "Green Green Grass of Home" captures a lot of the emotion of the hometown visit, minus the obvious prison references, of course. Oh, and the home I grew up in at 226 Franklin Street in Sauk City, Wisconsin, is currently for sale -- no doubt historians and preservationists and time travelers are clamouring to get their hands on it. You should hurry though, lest the current owners make it more fugly.

On Wisconsin

I've been spending a lot of time lately thinking about the small Wisconsin town I grew up in. Perhaps it's because of the holidays and going "home" to Mom's for Christmas (as much as her apartment is "home" to any of us). Perhaps it's my interest in this one alumni website that's been making the rounds, which for the life of me, I can't figure out why it's so damned captivating (it may be that with our life here in Chicago temporarily unable to move forward in any way at the present time, I've thrown it in reverse, looking over my shoulder, like a car stranded in snow, hoping to rock things back and forth until I can get moving again.) Hell, it may just be good old fashioned maturity -- the recent death of another classmate, a complete stranger to me in life (and death, I suppose) got me reexamining a number of my long held beliefs and perceptions of where I grew up. A lot of those beliefs were, I think, no more fair to the people I grew up with than actor Michael Richard's recent comments about African-Americans were to black people, and that collection of thoughts just didn't seem worth holding on to any longer. Maybe I'm just trying to find a way to reappraise a vanishing youth that went by much too quickly to be shrouded in such seeming negativity and stereotypical silliness.

Of course, no sooner do you say that then you come across an article like his one: "Hermaphroditic deer with seven legs 'tasty'." reads the headline. Came across that just now tonite. Actually, it's the second or third instance of that story I've come across in the last few days -- one version had a photo of the hunter holding several of the legs. In that article, he also described all of the legs as fully functional, though some were smaller than others, functioning more like "giant crab claws." Of course, the linked article here was the only one I've seen so far where the hunter described this freakish abomination of nature gone awry as "tasty."

Yessir...that's my home state.

The Importance of Being Earnest

Spending a lot of time concerned with choosing the "right" words lately, both as part of Allstate assignment and in trying to craft a synopsis of the last 20 years of my life for some high school alumni portal online that's been making the rounds. In each, the challenge: how to convey the most meaning with the fewest words? (If you've ever received one of my emails, you're aware brevity is not one of my gifts.) Makes one think of the classic Hemingway story, the one he allegedly considered his finest work, just six words long:

"For sale: baby shoes, never worn."

Nice, hey.

Though speaking of literary devices AND high school alumni, I'd settle for writing a good synecdoche joke.

Taco Bolt

Another day out at the Allstate factory. There's a long line in the lunchroom today, all the parts of the machine lined up, shuffling forward to pay. The gal in front of me -- grey, shapeless, slightly out-of-focus, possibly a parrot printed on her shirt -- approaches the register. "Taco bowl" she says to the cashier in a lifeless monotone, forking over her money. "Taco bowl" says the cashier. The whole transaction has the air of the cow moving through the line at the rendering plant, knowingly requesting the steel bolt they'll use to kill it moments later.

The Holidays Licked

Got the annual Lawrence holiday cards licked up, stamped up, and out the door today. Glory be. Still, easier than the years we made all those CDs. Or that time we had to borrow that baby, remember? Sure you do. Personally, I'm still a big fan of "No El." Lower production values, but one of our better seasonal puns. Anyway, cards in the mail. Didn't get one? Aw, c'mon, don't be like that. We still love you. Send us your address. And a ham.

The Lushinas Make a Memory

You really have to admire the Lushina's technique. Unlike our drama from a few weekends back, note how tightly orchestrated their presentation of the child to Santa actually is. Callie coaches little Eloise into position, while still maintaining a control grip on young Klive (not pictured), while Hans swoops around, and to the left, to find the optimum photo angle. They posed this a couple of more times to ensure verisimilitude, and from what I observed, not only were the kids behaved, Santa behaved as well. At least he avoided vomitting on them, which seemed entirely possible looking at him closely.

All this from our adventure with the Lushina's to the Lincoln Park Zoo Lights last night, The kids had a blast, with Aidan and Eloise running hand and hand through the park, enjoying the lights and the animals. Reesie got into the action later, pausing to personally kick each misplaced chunk of snow or ice she encountered. There was even something for mommy and daddy -- the chimpanzees were all quite asleep up in the new exhibit, passed out right up against the glass. Really a site to see, those sleeping apes. Reminded me somewhat of days gone by. But when else would you get to see that? Certainly not during the summer with all the damn out-of-towners visiting.

Which reminds me -- we still have our Minnesota plates on the Jeep and really should switch those over. Still, there's a great freedom in those plates -- people expect you to drive like absolute shit when they see those plates coming, so you can get away with a lot of bad ideas you wouldn't normally even consider. And isn't that memorable.

Ballerina Update

So as not to lose this in the mucus of the weekend: Friday was "Parents' Day" at Aidan's Ballet Class. Though one imagines this is not Ms. Dawn's favorite day, it sure was cute. Aidan tapped and danced and gran jettie'd her way through the class quite well, though stopping at several key points to blow her nose. There'll be a short hiatus, then its back in January to begin work on "the big spring show." In some sort of cosmic synchronicity for Aidan, I believe the girls are to be dressed as peppermints in the show.

The Sounds of Sick

Three days at home, sick, something sinus-y and blecch-colored, the feeling of an old shoe found in the gutter next to a roadkill squirrel. Came across the video of Reg Kehoe and the Marimba Queens today, and it makes think I should have been in a band like this. The bass player reminds me a little of ol' Cale.Ah, but such is life. No band for me. For my brother, however, there's always Linus. Guy I knew in high school is in this band . Even ol' Hans Lushina gots a band now. Rock on.

She's crafty

One for the digital fridge – Aidan whipped up this festive little Christmas tree in her Monday morning art class today:Allegedly, the cut paper and buttons were provided, but Aidan handled the painting, placement and glueing chores. She's got a good eye, I think. And better than half the "crafts" over at the "old lady whimsical tchotchke store" down the street.

I Can't Decide...

...which of these "monster roars" goes better with our picture of Santa from Saturday.

This one? Roar One

Or this one? Roar Two

In the meantime, the Chicago Tribune webiste has photos of other happy children enjoying their visits with Santa.

Nightmare-y Christmas

A beautiful December morning, sun shining on all that new snow, so let's head on downtown to see Santa girls! It'll be great!Okay, first of all, it's too cold. Sub-30's temps, especially in the shade, making the German Holiday Cristalmarketsplachenheffer thing down in Daley plaza a bad idea, despite how cute it may seem, or how wondrous with the giant tree tucked in amongst all those great buildings. Fortunately, some hot chocolate warms up the girls just...oh, wait, wait, it's too hot, Aidan's burned her tounge and lips and face. At least Reese is warm in the blankets we've wrapped her up in and...oh wait, she's thrown those in a puddle in the street. And her hat and gloves too.

What should we do to save the day? I know, how about visiting Santa at Fields (to heck with you, Macy's...that building on State Street is always going to be Fields). Yes, that's it, let's go see the "real" Santa at Fields! I know we mailed your letter to Santa in Park RIdge this morning at the big Kiwanis-sponsored mailbox, but we've got a spare, right here, so let's take it to the man himself! Won't that be fun?! Yes, yes, I know you cried and cried when we saw Santa last year, but this year you're so excited and ready to meet the man! And we'll have a photo with him, won't that be grand! Sure, sure, we're waiting an hour and a half (literally) from the minute we enter "Santa's Village" to the time we see him, and it's hot and stinky and you're tired and hungry, but we're going to see Santa! Santa! Won't that be fun! It will be?! Here we are, the elf is letting us in!!! Do we want a picture, sure we do!

Here's the only picture we got this year:
One look at ol' Kris Kringle there and you can begin to understand why Aidan never entered the room, Reesie began crying instantaneously, and Mommy and Daddy needed a drink immediately.

Truth be told, he was a very nice man, and very understanding, and really played his Santa very cute and kind. I'm sure he was even saying something very sweet to Reese at the exact moment I took that picture above -- a lasting image of a seemingly angry, crazy man in a furry suit screaming hell and damnation at small children. Be good for goodness sake indeed -- otherwise, the Santa in this photo will pummel you.

It was an exhausting, funny, silly afternoon. There's lots of those when you're a parent, I think.

Now about that drink...

You Can Lead a Horse to Water...

So we're watching a little holiday movie with the girls on the ol' TV last night, kicking back after another celebrated meal featuring Cindy's great-great-grandmother's secret Italian gravy recipe, when an ad for Butterscotch the amazingly lifelike horse comes on the screen. Aidan becomes visibily excited as images of a little girl brushing and hugging this thing play across the screen. And frankly, I don't blame her. It's a cool toy. Allegedly, the horse is all but fully mobile, it's head and neck move in response to your interaction with it. It can neigh and whinny in response to various commands you give it. It's like a real pony in most of the non-pooping and feeding ways (though there is a pretend carrot you can feed it). It reminds me a lot of the walking, talking, psycho-analyzing toy bear from Spielberg's A.I. and everytime I see it (there's one on display in a Target store near you right now!) I think we're heading towards a real evolution in the way mass-market toys interract with our children. It's crazy.

Still, Aidan was understandably excited, and the advertising had done a good job of reaching out to its target market. Still, for all the bells and whistles and amazing things this horse does, the "action feature" that Aidan remembers the most, the most exciting part of this incredible toy for her, the one thing she turned to us immediately following the commercial with big excited eyese and a giant smile and screamed for joy with magical knowledge of this one fact?

"Mommy! Daddy! It comes with a brush!!!"

Snowpocalypto

Woke up this morning to something like this out the front door:Aidan alerted us to it first, up at first light with some inate child's awareness of new fallen snow and delayed winter drive times. "Snow! Snow! Snow! Snow! Snowwwwww!!!" she shouted. Yes, snow. Unfortunately, despite having, oh, a hundred different opportunities to purchase one in the last two months, we do not have a "snowsuit, snowsuit, snowsuit" for her yet. I believe that was on the to-do list for the weekend. Should be an interesting day here at the house.