I was recently informed that all of my online pictures of Isla are horrendously outdated. I agree in a hearty fashion and will no longer rest on my laurels. My thanks to Patty for taking the excellent photos.

Patty and I recently took Isla and the dogs for a jaunt through the fields behind our house. We all enjoyed the mild weather, and Indie & Bear got to wear themselves out.  Isla even got to walk the dogs for a bit, although, Indie seemed to have some reservations about taking orders from someone in a penguin hat. I guess I would too.

A lot of people ask how Indie & Bear are with Isla.  Well, they’re both great with her; however, Bear seems to be her protector and is a good sport when she wants to hug/ride/borrow money.  Indie prefers to keep her distance, lest Isla decide to work on her eye-poking skills.  Isla is never alone with the dogs, of course, and Patty & I are good about teaching Isla the proper way to interact with them.

Nothing wacky occurred on our walk, so unfortunately, all I have are adorable photos that’ll treasure forever. Sorry.

Patty & I also want to thank everyone for their incredible support.  Seriously, we’re lucky to know so many wonderful and kind people.  We’re also keenly aware that this surgery is only the beginning of a long and challenging journey. After the recovery and the activation of the implant, Isla will need to learn how to hear. She’s a tough little girl, though, and she has two parents that will do just about anything for her.  I plan to start by teaching her the difference between Mozart & Led Zeppelin and then working our way up from there.

Here are a few Wifey-Approved photos from the big day.

Patty has also given me permission to tell you that she is starting to show.    In other words, if you were making a movie, and you needed to cast “Bubbly Pregnant Lady #1,”  Patty is the one you would call.  Of course, she’s not in the Screen Actors Guild, and she can’t really fly to L.A. right now, so we’d have work around that. I might be over-thinking this entire paragraph.  My point is, Patty looks great…even when she doesn’t think so.

We’ve also tragically magically transformed my super secret 70′s/80′s lair into a slightly less-super secret baby room.  My Mannequin movie poster has replaced by pictures of Teddy Bears, my copies of Dynamite Magazine have been supplanted by Dr. Seuss, and my Atari 2600 has been replaced by nothing…just, nothing, not even a freakin’ Playstation.  The room has never looked better, though; even without the inspirational picture of Dolph Sweet.

Patty & I will be also be joining a new church very soon.  And by “new church,” I mean, “church.”  We’re not currently members of a particular church yet.  To be honest, I learned most of what I know about religion from watching George Burns movies.  According to Hollywood, God smokes cigars, has bad writers, and was a lot funnier in the 1940s.  Seriously though, I know our family will benefit from it, and that’s good enough for me.  Who knows, maybe they need a rockin’ church organist.  I assume I could do that.

We’re also working on getting a new car to replace the aging Jeep Grand Cherokee.  It’s becoming increasingly unreliable, and I’m fairly certain the transmission is being held together with duct tape and Gummi-Bears.  It’s been a good vehicle, though.  That Jeep got me home safely from every gig, every time.  Since we have another mini-SUV to haul around the impending torrent of child-related accoutrements, we are going to replace the Jeep with a smaller sedan.  Also, I’m not domestic enough, and I strongly believe a Ford Taurus can fix that.  Perhaps beige? You kids love beige.

I’ll continue to let you know how the preparations are going.  I’m pretty sure it’ll be uneventful.

My dad was an incredible man who always had an easy smile and an positive outlook.  Even after my sister Karla died of leukemia in 1974, he never became an angry or bitter man.   Dad and I got along great…even when we didn’t. (Anyone who has ever raised a teenager will know what I mean.) My only regret is that I never got to know dad as a friend as I progressed into my 20s and 30s. There were times I could have really used his advice.

Shortly before he died, dad told about something that mad him feel good. This surprised me since the chemotherapy pretty much made him feel quite the polar opposite of “good.” He knew he wasn’t going to make it, but he told me that it made him feel good to know that in the early part of the 21st century, there would be a man who kinda looked him and kinda sounded like him. He knew that man would work his ass off to be the kind of husband and father that he always tried to be. That was a hell of a thing for my 18 year-old brain to process, but I never forgot that conversation.

The reason I bring this up is that 2009 also saw some some unexpected challenges in my family. Patty had a miscarriage earlier this summer. Unfortunately, there were complications that took several months to work out. Patty wrote a nice post over at her own blog. During the difficulties, Patty needed my help. At first I wondered what I could do.  Let’s face it, when people are facing adversity, they don’t immediately start looking for a keyboard player who watched too much TV as a kid.  Then I considered how dad would have handled a similar situation and the answer became clear: I would do everything.  Everything I could, plus a few things I couldn’t. I would drop whatever I was doing to be the kind of husband…the kind of person my dad would have been proud of.   Patty is doing great now, and I’m just glad I could be there when she needed me.

Nice to know the old man can still teach me some things 20 years later.  Thanks, Dad.

Patty & I then went over to her folks’ place for lunch. We were running late because I needed to comb my hair and pick up my accordion. What, you don’t think I have an accordion? Have you read this blog? Trust me, THIS geek has an accordion. I love spending Easter with my family. Plus, I continued the time-honored tradition of biting the head off of Patty’s chocolate bunny when she’s not looking. (Why yes, I am 8 years old, why do you ask?) OK, I was just joking around and I did give her my untouched bunny in exchange, but I’m still gonna need a place to crash until this whole thing blows over.

Other than that, it was a good day to just relax and read the paper. Unfortunately, I read a rather disturbing story about a local cab driver who was stabbed by his 15 year-old passenger when she couldn’t pay the $22 cab fare. You can read the story here. Luckily the driver is going to be OK. According to the article, “The driver was stabbed with a kitchen knife in the neck, leg and buttocks.” At first I wondered how he got the buttock wound; then I realized that if someone is attacking me with a knife, at the very least, I’m farting on them.

I bring this up for two reasons. First, people love reading blogs where idiots talk about the weather, and second, Monday is the day I should have gone grocery shopping. We’re dangerously close to running out of food. Unfortunately, Monday was too nice of a day to go grocery shopping (what with all the golfing, water-skiing and log-rolling,) and today is the kind of day where you don’t immediately realize you’ve lost fingers as you, oh I don’t know, walk to the mailbox. As a result, Patty and I are trying to use up the food we have before requesting an airlift from Anchorage. It’s amazing what you will consider eating for dinner when you just don’t want to venture outside: crackers, soup, popcorn, emergency pizza, and hey, that can of pulverized bacon shards is looking pretty good. We’re actually hoping to go shopping on Friday…unless the weather is either too nice or too lousy, of course.

And by the way, I freely admit how ridiculous all of this sounds. My grandpa worked a farm and raised 8 kids in Central Minnesota during the Depression and World War II, while I get tired if I have to go to the gas station and the bank in the same day.

“Hearty Minnesotan,” my butt. Maybe I could take a class, or something.

Have you ever tried explaining blogging to your non-techie family members? They look at you like you’re nuts…even when you’re NOT stuffing your face full of day-old brisket. I love the responses I get:

• “How do they let you do that?” (“they?”)
• “It sounds expensive.” (“Yes. Yes it is.”)
• “How could you be a writer? You’re an [Accountant, Attorney, Idiot, etc.]“
• “What do you write about?”

OK, the last question is legitimate: “What do you write about?” I ponder the question while I grab another cup of holiday fish. “Well, I write about, ah…er, uh, well, I wrote about how there’s no such thing as Orange Pie, even though there is. Um, I wrote about the time Bear & I killed a squirrel in the front yard, or how I’m a freak who never played Monopoly. I think several of the stories involve pet vomit…” As I trail off and look around the room at the blank stares, I wonder why I’m the one in the hot-seat, while Uncle Elwin, the “professional ventriloquist” with the Grover Cleveland-mustache gets a pass. What a rip! Luckily, I had the presence of mind to succinctly explain that blogging is simply a creative outlet that doesn’t frighten my loved ones…unlike being a musician. Plus, I get to swear repeatedly, just like that one time at Godfather’s Pizza.

My mom quickly caught on. “So, you’re like a newspaper columnist?” she asked. “Well, if you’re implying that I’m an irrelevant hack, then yes, I’m exactly like a newspaper columnist,” I replied. I added that there are literally thousands of blogs out there that she might enjoy, but she replied that she really doesn’t want to bother anyone.

Um, OK.

Anyway, Patty & I, plus Indie & Bear (and to a lesser extent, the cats) hope the two of you who are reading this had a Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, and an Awesomely Awesome Boxing Day. Peace!