Ben built an “Octonauts Playset from McDonalds” tonight out of card stock and Scotch tape. It’s a fairly sizeable cube-shaped object with a door cut into it (for easy insertion of seafaring animal explorers, no doubt.)
It’s the logical sequel, I suppose, to his work from earlier today: “How To Make Tree House”, [sic] a “making book” for those interested in the correct methods of construction in relation to arboreal domiciles.
The book details how to obtain and assemble the pieces required to erect the eponymous structure, concluding with a diagram showing the correctly installed project.
I gather that attempts to describe the construction of some sort of three-dimensional object in two-dimensional space proved unsatisfying, so he moved on to modelling the structure with the materials at hand in his immediate vicinity. I know that every parent thinks this of their child, and I think every parent is right in their own way: he’s a marvel!
…to go nearly two years without a post? Should I not have done that?
Using the force apparently causes one to purse his or her lips in a rather pronounced fashion.
It’s vacation 2013! Spouse and I have been off since the beginning of July. Up ’til now, we’ve been stay-cating; we’ve been doing some (but only some) of the (many) chores that need doing around the Juniorvanian estate. That’s been mostly successful – financing arrangements had to be made as the end of a car lease approached and decisions had to be made about whether the National Vehicle Fleet was to be augmented; extensive yardwork needed to be done (the People’s Weed Whacker in particular was called into heavy service); general tidying and decluttering throughout the house was in required, and I even tackled the monstrous mess that was (and to a certain extent, still is) the garage. I have installed an amplifier and an old pair of speakers in the garage, so I now have a rock and roll outdoor work area, which allows me to spend a little more time organizing, sorting through clutter and tidying. I still have designs on using some of the airspace above the garage door to store the rear bagger assembly for the People’s Lawn Mower; there’s a pulley already in place in the general area that is just begging to fly the whole awkward contraption so that it doesn’t take so much valuable floorspace.
But staycations such as these are only so restful, so we’ve packed up the truck and headed off to Sudbury to visit Nani and Appa.
Upon arrival in Sudbury, we took a quick trip over to the golf club to which Nani and Appa belong. Ben was excited to play golf with Apps, and was very pleased to get a putting lesson from him on one of the practice greens. He was even MORE interested, once we got there, in the golf carts. After the lesson was concluded, staring at the carts lined up below the clubhouse deck, he asked me (with his usual hilariously enunciated emphasis on the interrogatory commencing the sentence) “What can we do with those golf carts, Daddy?”
Change: the incremental grows fundamental
And all around is new
I looked away for just a minute
Now looking back at you
I could have sworn you were so much smaller
Now squeaks and sleeps are memories
Setting like the son on the horizon of my mind.
Wow. The more I read of his stuff, the more upset I become that David Foster Wallace is no longer around to think about things and then tell us his thoughts.
From “E unibus pluram“, an amazing essay on what it means to watch TV. It is difficult to put in perspective the clarity of insight in this piece and the importance of its conclusions, but it blows my mind to think that Wallace was writing in 1992 – before the curiously ironic, but undoubtedly atomizing and isolating effects of widespread Internet use had become apparent to just about everybody.
A little bird tells me some folks might be coming this way via Grantland tomorrow. Don’t mind the cobwebs hereabouts, things have been a little slow since (I assume) aliens arrived in the night and used mind control and likely some sort of anal probe to steal all of my free time, come to think of it coincidentally right around the time my son was born.
Anyway, hope you enjoy the Albert stuff. If you’re looking for other stuff to read here, for some reason I seem to do well when writing about the People’s Lawnmower. I know, I don’t get it either, but it is funny. And there’s more.
Am trying to make myself spend some more time on things that aren’t work; you know, things that I enjoy and things that make life worth living.
One of those things is writing on this blog. I do like it, it makes me feel good.
Another one of those things is playing music. I hope to do more of that with this new guitar that I got for Christmas from Spouse. My whole outlook has gotten considerably more rockabilly since I opened it up – it’s a hollow body archtop – I think I might grow long sideburns and a ducktail.
Anyway, been desperately trying to grab ten minutes here and there to practice between The Boy’s naps and meals and diaper changes (he’s been home from daycare during most of the holidays). It’s hard to get into any serious effort to learn a song, or even a riff or a new technique in those quick stolen moments. But I vow to keep trying; I’m working on “Having an Average Weekend” by Shadowy Men From a Shadowy Planet at the moment.
Tonight’s gem from The Boy: Spouse had made cookies and The Boy was aggressively sampling. At one point, he had learned to just liberate cookies from the counter and start eating, a development that was interdicted by Spouse, asking him, “Just how many more of those things are you going to eat, anyhow?” He thought for a few seconds and said confidently, “Three of them.”
Yes, so it’s been a while. [Insert excuses here].
At the moment, I am sitting on the porch in the late Sunday afternoon sun. It is a gorgeous day in May, and there’s a soft wind blowing, just enough to rustle the trees. I can hear the birds chirping and…way off on the distance, Spouse and The Boy laughing as they fill the bird feeders.
Life is good.