avery

Happy birthday, little Freda. Good times. Thank you for sharing it with us.

One of the things to which one has to be sensitive is that many folk do not approve of you posting pics of their young ‘uns willy nilly. Fair enough. There’s a world full of crazies and it’s safe to assume that the mere fact you’re here, reading these words, makes you a prime candidate. No pics of other people’s babies for you. And let me assure you, there were many many babies there. I trod carefully. Treaded? Strode? Treed?

Apologies for calling you a crazy, there. We both know you aren’t. Are. Aren’t. Are. Not. Is.

Moving on.

So here we have a few pics taken at today’s birthday smash for little Freda. She’s a doll, you’ll just have to take my word for it. The party was large and fun, and I had a beer placed in my hand within fifteen seconds of arriving. So, full marks there. Many terrific costumes, and some of them even on the adults.

Da-da dressed up as a Canadian, complete with hockey stick (not pictured) and proper manly beard (hard to miss). Avery was the obligatory bunny (with which she will be stuck until she sets us straight) and Mama was Mama Bunny (never mind that the ears and bow tie are traditionally situated above considerably more revealing clothes). We had a quality good time, and once again I wished I had more time to spend with all these fine folk.

Brace yourself, fine folk. You may be roped in to Sunday BBQs all winter long.

Speaking of wishing for more time, I’m dying to update y’all about Avery. She invented her own sign for helicopter. Genius. It took me a while to figure it out, because she hears them long seconds before I do. And she chucks out the “Dada” and “Muma” whenever she’s got incentive. “That” with accompanying pointer (or more accurately “dat”) is a constant. She digs pizza. And Daniel Tiger’s Neighborhood. She likes to share. And hug. She understands exactly what I’m saying when I suggest we go to the recycling room, and she’ll confidently lead the way; and when I ask her to turn on the lamp (the one with the foot switch) she’ll try with her hand, and then I’ll suggest she stomp on it with a foot, and she’ll do just that. She knows “foot” because she knows “shoes”. I have no idea how she knows “laugh” but last night when I read the line to her, “…what made you laugh today?” she giggled on cue. Not a coincidence. None of them are anymore. And if you ask her what a lion sounds like, she gives you the most tear-your-heart-out-adorable little roar.

Thirteen and a half months old. Sharp as a tack. Two tacks.

We are well into the brain-sponge zone, people. Watch your language, and be on your classiest behaviour. This girl is taking notes.

I’m working on a megalithic project – trying to catch up on the last 7 months of pictures. In a purely survey-esque fashion. Just skimming the cream. Only the choicest cuts. We are at 221 items so far. Still got three months to go.

My bias will be my undoing.

But dude, come on. LOOK at her. And my lovely wife. And my fascinating life. It’s all so ridiculous. I feel like I should really tip somebody huge on the way out, because my life makes me feel like she looks.

Clearly, the key to frequent posting is keeping the momentousness out of it. I’ve been working (read: not working) on the draft of “Avery at 1” since I before I mentioned it in the last post. And she motored past 13 months a few days ago. So. Yeah. That doesn’t work.

Writer’s Tip #1 – Write. A lot.

Writer’s Tip #2 – Epics are for people named Hemingway or Homer or Guy Gavriel Kay (seriously, read The Fionavar Tapestry).

Writer’s Tip #3 – See how easily you get distracted?

So let’s not worry so much about setting down words fit to be scribed in stone. Instead, here’s my Sunday:

The Plan, for the last few weeks, was to jump a train today, or possibly a boat, and to head upriver to see the leaves. The leaves in New York State are evidently a sight that must be seen. So that was the plan. The leaves, however, are not cooperating. They are behind schedule down here at sea level. Also, Marjorie slept in. So that voyage, whether it be by rail or by sail, will have to happen maybe next weekend. Nevertheless, I had already moved heaven and earth to get the day free (family time!), so by all the gods, we were going to see some leaves or die in the attempt.

Off to Central Park we went.

Now, the 7 train isn’t running this weekend. Line improvements, you see. You have to take the shuttle to the E train. Of course, other lines are getting improvements this weekend too. But I will not drive you mad with the inglorious details. After all was said and done, it took us an hour and twenty minutes to get to Central Park.

The leaves are still green there too. Mostly.

BUT! Sun shining, breeze mild, and we had the whole afternoon. We made the most of it – by doing not much at all. We strolled. We lollygagged. We dillydallied and we dawdled. Very satisfying.

p.s. Pine cones, while not anywhere near as delicious as one might expect on first discovery, still make perfectly terrible hairbrushes.