theBarnstorming

December 03, 2009

Big Bad City

Today, Robbi and I are headed to New York City to meet with some people about some things. More on that to come. If we do not return by this time tomorrow, please send rescuers. We'll be the small town folk cowering miserably in the middle of Times Square.

If someone can give me a rational explanation for why so many people choose to live in one small place, I would be extremely grateful. It simply does not compute.

Posted by bogenamp at 07:41 AM | Comments (4)

November 29, 2009

Four-Day Weekend

On Thanksgiving, we rested. For the first time in 12 weeks, we spent an entire day without thinking about Idiots'Books. We slept in. We baked bread. We ate a lot of food. We played Nintendo. We went for a walk. We watched TV. No writing. No drawing. No scheming. It was nice.

Our turkey weighed 18 pounds. Alden weighs 18.2 pounds. In spite of this slight edge, she was wary.

When the time came to eat, she trembled with anticipation.

But when her plate arrived, heaped with turkey and other delicious things, her protest resumed.

I had no such reservations.

After stuffing ourselves, we crashed profoundly for a number of hours. When we emerged from our collective stupor, we decided a walk was in order.

Lately, Alden has been quite interested in ducks. In fact, her favorite word is probably "quack," a thing she says with great conviction whenever any duck-like object presents itself. Living on the Eastern Shore, we see lots of ducks about: real ducks, duck decoys in shop windows, and rubber ducks in the nightly bath.

This weekend, we went to see the real ducks, which gather in abundance near the town pier. We have a tendency of forgetting to finish our bread before it turns dry and unchewable. And so we decided to unload it on the ducks.

Alden took her task seriously.

She dug deep into the bag of bread, pulled back her arm to launch some crumbs toward the waiting waterfoul...

...and managed to throw her handful approximately four inches. Poor kid lacks technique. Takes after her old man, it seems.

But the ducks were not to be denied. It seems their interest in the bread outweighed their fear of the 27-inch dynamo. Alden convened with the ducks, proclaiming "quack" repeatedly as the feast continued.

And then, all of a sudden, she lost interest in the ducks and the bread and ran in a new direction.

Which is what kids do, I guess.

It was getting to be nighttime, anyway.

We got back home and Alden crashed.

All that quacking takes it out of a girl.

Once Alden had gone to bed, Robbi and I downloaded Super Mario Brothers 2 from the Wii website. Robbi and I had both loved the game when we were kids and had all sorts of shared memories about playing it. Once upon a time, I was uncommonly good at earning extra lives in the slot-machine style bonus game at the end of each level. As it turns out, I haven't lost my touch.

Yesterday was cold and crisp, but it was also the Chestertown Christmas parade, and so we bundled Alden in her cold weather finery and headed out to see the spectacle. She stood in the middle of the street as the parade approached, completely unprepared for what was coming her way.

With each passing float and marching band, she grew more incredulous.

What in the heck were these people up to?

She is a small town girl with small town sensibilities. She responded with a grim pragmatism, keeping her emotions in check.

But later in the privacy of her own home, she took out her fears and frustrations on her pancakes.

Last night, seeking food comfort in a futile attempt to ward off the reality of the coming end to the holiday weekend, I drove to New Castle, Delaware (about an hour away) for some quality pork ribs.

Seeing the feast, Alden told us she was ready to partake. We decided to let her try, wondering to ourselves how it was going to go. She may throw breadcrumbs like her sissy dad, but the kid can eat smoked pork like a champion.

When not eating and resting, we have been working dutifully on readying the new Idiots'Books web site for its upcoming debut. We don't have a firm date in mind, but we're hoping to launch in the next week or so. We'll let you know when the time comes. For now, enjoy the waning moments of your weekend. I take heart in knowing that the next batch of days off is not so far distant.

Posted by bogenamp at 04:19 PM | Comments (7)

November 22, 2009

Art for Breakfast

This morning Matthew cooked up some apple pancakes for breakfast. I was happily munching away when I heard a gasp over at the stovetop. I rushed over to tend to the inevitable wound/burn/broken glass/disfigurement that generally occurs when Matthew is involved with anything.

This is what he gestured to, breathlessly:

I have to say, I was both unimpressed and relieved. No broken glass? No freely flowing blood? It looked like the pancake-making was actually going remarkably well. Then Matthew grasped my arm, and said, "Look! Look at the one on the right! It looks just like that drawing you did, of the fat guy, with the baggy eyes, and the droopy nose!" I have to say, this didn't really narrow things down. "The guy with the money and the accounting paper glued on it, you know."

Oh. Right.

And, wow, it kind of did.

He didn't get the nose quite right, and I probably could have mentioned how his application of color left something to be desired, but all told, I think he did a decent job, given the materials at hand and the entirely inadvertent nature of its creation. It's not every day you get to eat art for breakfast. And even rarer that it's so delicious. Nice work, Matthew, nice work.

Posted by ribbu at 08:31 PM

November 11, 2009

The Bathroom Complete

It has been some time now since I first wrote about our bathroom renovations. If you wish to refresh yourself on the early stages of our efforts, you may read posts about painting, building cabinets, and hanging cabinets (thrill rides all).

In the weeks since then, a number of delays involving plumbing, ductwork, knob mounting, and track light installation have kept us from feeling truly done with the bathroom. But all that is behind us now.

I had a doozy of a time taking good pictures of the bathroom, so here are some bad ones.

Have another look at that hand towel/houseplant/pottery tableaux. Yes, that is a Seiko Behr original.

And here, at long last, are the new washer and dryer in their glory (shown next to a six-foot adult man for scale).

Alden is convinced that the bathroom exists specifically for her amusement.

After all, it has buttons to push.

Caves to explore.

Sumptuous, loungeworthy surfaces to lounge upon sumptuously.

A nice little bench to sit upon (that happens to get quite warm in the winter months).

Even a pool!

I love the new paint, shower curtain, cabinets, and drawer pulls, but by far my favorite thing about the new bathroom is the instrument panel of the new washer. It's many colorful lights dazzle and delight me.

A pleasing cascade of electronic beeps results when each button is pushed. I find myself selecting highly customized settings just to have the chance to bask in the spectacle of light and sound.

If you have visited us once but not a second time because you were distressed by our formerly uncivilized bathroom, rest assured, you will have a very different experience this time around.

Posted by bogenamp at 10:08 PM

October 22, 2009

The Dangers of Oatmeal

As a mid-thirties male with a love of bacon cheeseburgers and a family history of high cholesterol, I have been eating a bowl of medicinal oatmeal each morning. To make consumption of the awful gluey sludge somewhat less demoralizing, I have been adding frozen blueberries (which also, apparently, have a positive effect on one's cholesterol levels).

I was blithely going about my oatmeal preparation efforts yesterday morning when suddenly this came out of the frozen blueberry bag.

If you think it looks like a green pepper, than we are of the same mind.

I took a closer look.

My suspicions confirmed, I flew into a paranoid rage.

Conclusion: someone in the food service industry is trying to kill me slowly by denying me access to the powerful antioxidants locked inside each blueberry. I thought I was safe from this sort of thing in Chestertown, a kindly burg where, you might have heard, we care enough to keep one another's lips moist.

Posted by bogenamp at 08:18 AM

October 18, 2009

Exhumation

On Easter Day of 2008, Robbi and I drove west across the Bay Bridge to visit our friends the Westbrooks for egg dyeing and camaraderie...and to bury a copy of the Norton Anthology of Poetry in the Westbrook family vegetable garden. I did a post that day, so have a read if you want the entire story, but in short, our friend Matt, lover and writer of poetry, asked us to join him in laying to rest a ruined collection of the greatest poems of Western literature.

In any case, the plan was to return to the garden with our shovels one year later to see how the Norton had fared during its year in the soil. And so we reconvened in March of 2009.

Our party consisted of Matt, Alden, and me. Robbi pledged to stay safely behind the camera lens.

Matt was in charge of excavation. First he had to find the grave.

And then he dug.

Matt found the Norton, and we took a closer look.

It was not in prime shape.

As Matt and I examined our treasure, Alden sat in silent judgment. Although she could not yet articulate her thoughts, she seemed to realize that something strange was afoot and that this was not how grownup men were supposed to behave.

We took a closer look at the Norton. Quite a number of worms or boring insects seemed to have worked their way through its pages.

At some length, Matt found a few intact pages and did a commemorative reading. Appropriately, the passage was Surprised by Joy by William Wordsworth.

So inspired was Alden that she asked if she might read from the Norton as well.

It might have been a beautiful moment if only she were not illiterate.

Our curiosity sated and our respects paid, we returned the sad tome to the earth.

We will dig again next Easter, to gauge the Norton's fate after a second year of interment.

The Norton was originally buried on March 23, 2008. Robbi and I went to bed that night expecting a full night's rest. It wasn't to be. She woke up at 5:30am on the 24th with some startling discomfort. Later that day, this happened.

It makes me wonder what sort of monumental event might directly precede Tarzan's arrival in this world. Unless the baby is two-and-a-half-months late, his/her arrival will not coincide with our next visit with the Norton. I suspect Robbi would not mind if he or she decided to show up 10 days early. She's already starting to get mighty uncomfortable.

Apparently, this child is a real kicker.

Posted by bogenamp at 10:24 PM

October 14, 2009

... and There We Go ...

Well, Comic-Con has come and gone, and Matthew and I are still working on a full recovery. In fact, Matthew is so demoralized he's asked me to write an entry, just to keep those of you who are rabid for news at bay. I know, I know, it's not a fair substitute, but it will just have to do.

So - for those of you who don't know what Comic-Con is all about, I'm afraid I'm not really the right person to ask. Sorry. Though I occasionally read a comic book here and there growing up, I have to say I was mostly interested in the artwork, and it really got on my nerves when artists would switch up and suddenly Wolverine would go from looking like this:

to this:

Call me shallow, but I just can't love a guy whose bicep is bigger than my entire gluteus maximus. So anyway, my interest in comic books was spotty at best, and I never really got into following actual storylines. This is not so for 99.99% of Comic-Con attendees. Much like baseball fans, they know the stats on all the players at all stages of their careers, and fiendishly collect associated memorabilia. Needless to say, Idiots'Books has not yet stimulated such an adoring fan base (I blame it in part on my inability to adequately draw these, and instead can only draw these). Though the following photo would suggest that we did a brisk business this past weekend

please take note of the gentleman on the far left.

That's what most attendees looked like when they passed by our booth. I think this poor guy got suckered in because his girlfriend was excited about 10,000 Stories, and its alluring flip-bookish ways. Luckily, in a crowd of 12,000, there are a few odd girlfriends and moms and dads who are willing to stop and chat, so it wasn't a complete bust. And, at the very least, we got to watch a passing parade of the disguised and famous:

though at times it was suggested we were watching at our own risk:

and sometimes the disguise was almost not there at all:

The highlight of the whole Con was that I finally found Waldo. He is a tricky little SOB. I've been searching for him ever since Christmas of 1993. My search, amongst the 12,000 Comic-Con attendees, finally reached its extremely gratifying and long overdue conclusion.

Thank god I can finally put that one to rest.

We divided the happy-go-lucky comic-mania with a very highbrow evening with Ira Glass, host and creator of my very very favorite This American Life, and a bunch of other NPR listeners. I cannot tell you how much I love This American Life, and, by extension, Ira Glass. This, however, did not stop me from calling him a "puppetmaster" to his FACE in the Q&A session. What is my problem? I could blame it on giddy fan nerves, but really. You could see the poor man visibly flinch at the suggestion that all of his carefully crafted work was just manipulation. I immediately ran home and wrote him an apology, which, if it weren't for damned Columbus Day weekend, would already be well on its way into his mailbox. Luckily he can't block my ISP from receiving his podcast, or I would be in dire dire straits.

Or - can he?

The man looks like he could hold a grudge:

Posted by ribbu at 12:05 PM

September 20, 2009

The Bathroom: Part 3

When hanging cabinets, one has to find a stud in which to screw the hanging rail. Some people have sophisticated instruments that identify studs through sheetrock. Others rap their knuckles against the wall and listen for the variation in sounds: hollow means no stud and solid means stud. Lacking sophisticated instruments, we tried this latter technique, drilling into the wall where it seemed to be solid.

The result was a sort of wild goose chase that left us feeling like rather bad carpenters. When the big quake comes, we know exactly where this wall will split in two. However shoddy our technique, we did eventually find the studs, which enabled us to hang the rail.

While looking up to admire it, I had a near collision with Tarzan, who grows more obtrusive by the day.

We put the corner cabinet in place.

And screwed it to the rail.

Before long, more cabinets found their way onto the wall.

And then we were done:

Once the cabinets were up, we called the plumber and begged him to come install hookups for our new washer and dryer.

Here's how things looked before he came.

And here is our new plumbing.

Are you as excited about the new plumbing as I am? I doubt it. I am very excited about the new plumbing. But feel free to admire the elegant curve of the sewer line. Do not stop yourself from basking in the comfortable contour of the hot and cold water lines. Be not afraid if you, too, want to peer through the hole in the floor. I did. It is very dirty under the barn.

Tomorrow morning our brand new washer and dryer will arrive. Its sleek lines and many elaborate features will hopefully efface the recent pains of so many unnecessary holes in the wall.

Posted by bogenamp at 09:00 PM

September 16, 2009

The Bathroom: Part 2

Once the painting was done, it was time to build the cabinets. As we did when we built our kitchen and studio, we called upon our Swedish friends at Ikea to provide inspiration and materials. Alden, whose paternal great grandfather is Swedish, seemed to feel perfectly at home there.

She was an industrious helper when the time came to construct.

After a short tutorial, she was ready to dive in.

She drew inspiration from her Red Sox bib as she moved from cabinet to cabinet, tightening screws.

She handed me tools when I needed them.

She offered words of consolation when I hit my thumb with the hammer.

At one point, she took a short break to catch up on her pleasure reading.

As each new cabinet was finished, she checked for imperfections.

Although she did not overtly criticize my work, her body language seemed to imply that had she been in charge, it probably would have been better.

When all the cabinets were complete, I discovered the reason for Alden's keen interest in them.

Rather than be hung on the bathroom wall, the cabinets were to remain on the floor, that Alden might dance and preen inside them.

Coy...

...or costumed.

I suppose there's no problem with her continuing to inhabit the cabinets once they are hung on the bathroom wall, though we'll have to contrive some sort of ladder or winch. It might, in fact, solve some of the space constraints that would otherwise be imposed by Tarzan's impending arrival.

Posted by bogenamp at 01:01 AM

September 15, 2009

The Bathroom: Part 1

We woke up the other day and suddenly decided it was time to repaint our bathroom. It has been really bad looking for a really long time. The ceiling and walls were painted in weak, clashing shades of dirty white, and the cabinets were an unfortunate yellow that was probably never in style. We've known for some time that an overhaul was needed, but the thought of actually doing the work had long defeated us. When we woke the other day with unexpected inspiration, Robbi rushed out immediately to buy some paint before we could change our minds.

We started with the ceiling.

Then we painted the walls with a gray undercoating. It was such a startling improvement that we considered stopping while we were ahead.

But then we glanced once more at the godawful cabinets, and knew our intervention had to continue.

Robbi (who is careful and patient) tackled the trim.

When she was done, I (who am hasty and reckless) started painting the walls. We opted for dramatic color change.

Even though I am not a chocolate lover, the paint looked delicious.

It was difficult to keep myself from licking the wall.

Alden, who likes chocolate quite a bit, demanded a piece of the action.

I showed her how it worked.

Almost immediately, she recognized that painting is hard work, and completely lost interest.

It was a short-lived experiment.

I kept on at it in her absence.

When I was done painting all the big, flat, easy parts, Robbi went back with a brush and did all the finesse work (where wall meets ceiling or trim, for example, or in that hard-to-reach place behind the toilet).

The walls and trim are now painted, but our bathroom ambitions have since expanded into formerly unthinkable arenas. For example, we are going to hang cabinets on the walls and have purchased a real live washer and dryer.

With Alden's blessing, of course.

Posted by bogenamp at 12:31 AM

September 07, 2009

Long Weekend

For the most part, our long weekend has been dull and unphotogenic. There has been a lot of sleeping, a good deal of lounging, and a possibly unhealthy amount of television watching. We have punctuated the sloth with occasional bursts of low-grade activity. Expect no inspiration in the following.

Perhaps the most exciting moment of the weekend was when this man (and his dog) rode by the barn.

Have you ever seen a happier (or hipper) dog?

At some point over the weekend, Alden made an important discovery: loose change makes a much more satisfying clink when placed in one's piggy bank (as opposed to one's mouth).

She also learned how fun it is to spin around and around and around.

And how very hard it is to stand up afterward.

Yesterday, she spent some time with Oscar and Lily in their tower.

A place she knows that she is not supposed to be.

Today we went to Lockbriar Farms to pick apples and blackberries.

Alden understands how to locate an apple.

She knows how to pick it.

But she does not seem to grasp the greater goal: that of arriving home with apples to eat later.

Alden wants to eat them now.

Right now.

Sometimes on the run.

Sometimes right off the tree.

She is a savage, savage child.

After taking at least one bite out of every apple in the orchard, we headed over to the blackberry patch.

Alden's fruit vendetta continued.

Have you ever seen such rage?

Such cold-blooded indifference?

Such vicious mastication?

I shudder to think she is my flesh and blood...

...until Robbi reminds me...

...she learned it all by watching me.

Posted by bogenamp at 03:40 PM

September 01, 2009

Bear Truth

You might remember that recently I told you of the bear infiltration of our house in Alaska.

We got some photos in the mail from our friend Vern, one of only four full-time residents of Coffee Point, Alaska. The other three are his wife, Marita, and his daughters, Evelyn and Emily.

Evelyn was the one who noticed the bear damage in the first place. They occasionally patrol our compound in the months that we are here in Maryland. Here is what Evelyn found: the bears' entrance point.

"How does a great big bear get through such a small hole?" you ask.

Answer: I have no idea.

Here is what they did when they got inside. Bob and Seiko left the house quite neat when they closed up for the winter, I assure you.

But they will have a lot of cleaning up to do when they arrive next spring.

Bears: untidy.

Once upon a time, we had nice trim around our windows.

It seems the bear needed a toothpick.

And here's where the bears made their exit from the premises.

Apparently, according to those who have been ransacked by bears in years past, the worst thing about having had a bear in your house is not the things they break and the horrible mess they make but the awful smell they leave behind. Bears do not take showers, and so their fur is covered with a lifetime of oily, fishy funk that they love to rub all over the interiors of the houses that they pillage.

We have a similar problem around here from time to time. Different kind of bear.

Same results.

Posted by bogenamp at 10:16 PM

August 26, 2009

Half-Baked

Yesterday we went to the OB for Robbi's 20-week checkup. Here's how the lady is looking these days.

Manifest destiny is beginning in earnest.

During the 20-week appointment (the halfway point of the pregnancy), the fetus is developed enough for rather close scrutiny, so Robbi's doctor examined Tarzan's tiny body parts from all sorts of angles. We got to see the spine, ribs, kidneys, elbows, feet (in full kick), heart (in full beating fury) and face, such as it was.

Here is my child-to-be. If you're not quite sure what you're looking at, this is a profile of Tarzan's head. He/she/it is looking to the left. The round thing that kind of looks like an eyeball is, in fact, an eyeball. Because the lens of the eye is so dense, it shows up pretty well on the ultrasound. At least I think that was what the doctor said.

If you are thinking that my child bears an uncanny resemblance to Skeletor, you are not alone.

We opted not to have a look between the legs, preferring certain aspects of Tarzan's identity to remain somewhat more mysterious for the time being.

For her part, Alden has just reached the 17-month milestone and seems daily more determined to reach her teen years ahead of schedule. She has taken to pointing at Robbi's bulging abdomen and screeching "baby!" enthusiastically, but I don't think she's really grasping the big picture.

Bigger and bigger each day.

Posted by bogenamp at 08:15 AM

August 23, 2009

Retreat

On Saturday we drove through enthusiastic sheets of rain from Chestertown to Schuyler, Virginia, for my company retreat.

The skies cleared not long after we arrived, and so we headed outside.

Alden got her first crack at a slip n' slide. At first, she didn't seem to grasp the concept.

But she figured it out.

And ended up having a fine time.

After the slip n' slide fun had run its course, we played a wiffle ball version of home run derby. I agreed to participate in spite of my total lack of athletic coordination. The last time I swung a bat in any remotely competitive way was when I was seven or eight, the first day of practice for little league. I had previously been hitting balls from a tee (even under these conditions, I had difficulty making contact). On the first pitch of my first little league at-bat, the ball came in and hit me on the knuckles. It hurt. I wept. That evening I told my dad that I wasn't cut out for little league.

And so I was leery of the diamond. Here I am at my first at-bat. Notice my patented one-hand swing.

Here I am moments later, glowing with pride (or perhaps it was shock) after hitting my "home run", which, we had decreed, was any ball that landed beyond the slip n' slide.

Alden joined me in celebration.

Later, Alden and I relaxed on the porch swing.

Robbi decided it looked fun, and decided to swing a bit herself. With attitude.

After dinner, there were fireworks. Alden let us know how much she enjoyed them by bursting into tears and demanding to be taken inside.

She had a better time during the gift exchange.

Alden decided the lemon wedges looked delicious.

This was her reaction.

You decide whether or not it is best described as outrage or delight.

Robbi, Alden, Iggy, and I spent last night in the back of our van. If you fold the seats down and happen to have a full-size futon on hand, you can make a fairly comfortable bed back there.

This morning, we hiked around a lake and encountered many industrious spiders.

And one unmotivated turtle.

Apparently the turtle was dull.

While others ate brunch, Alden continued her late-morning snooze.

And I spent some time with my new friend Karis.

She is two. I like her very much.

After brunch, we drove home. The rains are pounding Chestertown again. I just checked the calendar, and we actually get to be home next weekend. But once September arrives, a whirlwind of fall activity begins. More on that to come.

Posted by bogenamp at 08:37 PM

August 20, 2009

Unwelcome Guests

We heard some bad news today from our neighbors in Alaska. Apparently, a bear (or possibly two bears) broke into our main house through one of the windows, ransacked the place, and left through another window. When I say the bear went "through the window," what I mean is that it ripped off the piece of plywood we use to cover the window in the winter months and then bashed through the double-paned glass and wood framework. What I'm saying is that the bear was motivated.

It seems the bear injured itself climbing through the window and bled all over everything. And for some reason it also chewed up our windowsills. They are/were awfully nice windowsills.

Although having one's house wrecked by a bear is unpleasant in any setting, our problems are compounded by the lack of a Lowe's or Home Depot anywhere in the vicinity of Coffee Point. Any new building materials we might need for the repairs will have to be shipped in by barge at the beginning of next summer.

On one hand, we are lucky to have eluded bear intrusion for so many years, but we still don't look forward to dealing with the aftermath.

Darn bears.

If Alden had been there, I'm sure she would have given them a piece of her mind.

It seems she fears nothing.

Posted by bogenamp at 10:32 PM

August 17, 2009

Lake George

A week ago today we filled our car with far more vacation-related items than we actually needed and headed off for Silver Bay, NY, a lovely blip that is not even really a town on the Western banks of Lake George.

Silver Bay is an old camp complex (think Dirty Dancing) where families come to escape from the city or suburbs in the summer. There is shuffleboard and a craft room and a yearly musical and various places to swim.

Robbi's grandfather built a cottage on the hills above the camp complex decades ago, and the family has been making regular pilgrimages ever since.

I've previously chronicled several of our past trips to Lake George, including the one last summer when we wound up stumbling upon a war in progress and the one the summer before, during which Robbi and I discovered a previously unknown island.

This year's visit centered squarely around the child (as will all other visits in the foreseeable future, I suspect), and so I did a poor job of photographing any non-Alden-related elements of our sojourn.

As evidenced by the following. (I have the sense that most of you will not complain.)

We took Alden swimming at Oneida Bay. She dragged this little inflatable thing out of the boathouse.

It succeeded in keeping her from sinking to the bottom of the lake.

Later, she sunbathed. With attitude.

We took her hiking up the mountain behind our cottage to Jabe's pond.

Once we got there, she stomped around in the pond like she owned the place.

At the end of her long day, she ate a lot of rigatoni.

We were in Silver Bay for four days, but really didn't take many pictures. Perhaps we were too busy relaxing? I can't say. Not photographed but heartily enjoyed was time spent playing shuffleboard, reading, and sleeping.

On Friday morning, we left Silver Bay and drove east to my mom's house in Andover, Massachusetts. My sister Lindsay (along with her husband and child) was visiting from Portland, Oregon.

In order to get from Silver Bay to Andover, we had to cross Lake George. Luckily, there is a ferry just north of Ticonderoga. As the seven-minute journey across the lake began, we carefully read the signage.

Alas, we did not heed it.

On our way across Vermont, we stopped in the charming town of Woodstock, where Alden dragged us into a high-end toy store and tried as hard as she could to convince us that it was her birthday.

After a beautiful drive through the heart of New England, we arrived in Andover, where I was reunited with my favorite nephew, Orin.

And Alden was reunited with her grandma.

The cousins were inseparable the entire time we were there.

They ate together.

They ran around the yard together eating popsicles.

Together, they enjoyed the pleasing sounds and textures of the garish plastic playtable.

They slid together.

The swung together.

They tried their best to share a cousinly kiss (Alden's aim was a little off).

At the end of a long day of having fun, they even nodded off entwined.

It was a very nice vacation. We are already nostalgic, especially Alden, who misses her grandma.

Of course, I also miss my mother, as a son tends to do. But right now, mostly I'm missing that beautiful lake and the days we recently spent lazing on its shady banks.

Posted by bogenamp at 10:06 PM

August 16, 2009

Paradise Lost

After a nearly twelve-hour drive from Andover, Massachusetts, we are finally back home in the barn. I have made a note to myself to never, ever try driving along the Eastern seaboard midday on a Sunday in August. I could go on and on about the godforsaken wasteland that is Connecticut, but instead I'll share a photo that pretty much sums up our vacation, which is, sadly, now over.

Much more to come, including artful and spirited invectives against traffic in its many hideous manifestations.

Posted by bogenamp at 11:35 PM

August 06, 2009

Bounty

When Robbi set out to plant her garden last spring, both of us were pretty sure it wasn't going to work. Not only does she lack the skill and experience to gently guide growing things on the perilous journey from seed to fruit-bearing plant, but the sorry stretch of soil in front of the barn gets only partial sun. Nevertheless, Robbi was set to try. And who was I to naysay?

Here's what the garden looked like on May 21, right after we poured in the topsoil and planted the tiny plants Robbi had been growing by the window upstairs (back then, before she was bitter and jaded, Alden was oh so easy to impress).

And here is the garden as of a few days ago.

Something happened while we were in Alaska. Tiny gnomes came in the night and built these lush green plants for Robbi's satisfaction. They even left some ripe red tomatoes for her.

Though a few are besotted with the rot.

A minor detail. It is the appearance of success that pleases us. It is the looks on the faces of the neighbors who now admit that they were highly skeptical that any sort of garden would succeed in such an unlovable stretch of land.

As is the case with all things that belong to Robbi or me, Alden immediately declared the garden her own and the fruits contained therein here property to sample and distribute as she pleases.

Alas her tiny mouth, though capable of producing mighty sounds, is not yet capable of opening wide enough to accommodate even a rather small tomato. Her embarrassment was evident.

She now claims that she "didn't want to eat that stupid tomato anyway," and that "gardens are for weenies."

Though once I might have been inclined to agree with her, I must admit that there is something satisfying about our unruly patch of ambitious plant life. It makes this barn a bit more home-like. It makes our growing roots feel just a bit more anchored in the soil.

Posted by bogenamp at 06:36 AM

August 02, 2009

Meanwhile

There has been a lot of fuss about books and creativity and other kinds of dullness here of late. For those of you who have been patiently waiting for photographs of babies, we will, today, provide some satisfaction.

Last week we took Alden in for her scheduled checkup. We were, of course, curious to hear the latest medical opinion on her size. According to the doctor, her head is in the 75th percentile but her weight is well below the 3rd percentile. Based on other indices, the doctor determined that she is, in fact, thriving, but thriving on her own scale that bears little relevance to the norm.

She continues to eat.

Sometimes balanced, healthy meals.

Sometimes cheesecake binges.

When Robbi was Alden's age, she had a beloved rocking horse that she would ride with alarming vigor. We decided that Alden deserved the opportunity to alarm her parents, and so we purchased Lightning, who arrived in a large brown box.

Alden helped with the assembly.

My pace was too slow for her tastes. She seemed to be judging me silently.

Eventually Lightning was ready for a rider. Alden was shy at first.

But wasted little time in taming the beast. She even learned how to squeeze Lightning's ear, which, to our dismay, causes his animatronic mouth to sing a cheerful little ditty called, "I'm a Pretty Pony."

Confident in her mastery of animal husbandry, Alden insisted on being taken to the County Fair.

She made small talk with this horse, who had won some sort of prize.

As we walked away from the stall, she confided to Robbi that she was unimpressed.

Grandpa John, who was visiting from the great Midwest, introduced her to a cow.

Alden squeezed its ear, and did not hear, "I'm a Pretty Pony." Disgusted, she demanded to see the pigs.

Apparently, she liked the pigs, or perhaps it was their filthy sty that she admired.

"Reminds me of home," she mused, as we walked on.

There were live chickens.

And roasting chickens.

There were large, inflatable structures.

Alden and I decided to give the bouncy room a try. First we bounced together.

Then we bounced separately.

Alden did her best impression of a ping pong ball.

Eventually, it seemed, she was done.

Dad and I decided to do some bouncing of our own.

Robbi was inspired to scale the monolith on Tiki Island.

Not bad for a pregnant lady.

Alden relaxed with Grandma Judy.

Did some swinging on her own.

And did some sliding with Grandpa John.

Later on, inspired by the day's inflatable theme, we filled up Alden's pool for her very first swim.

She proceeded with caution.

But before long...

...discovered her amphibious potential.

We grilled some salmon for dinner.

And had some ice cream for dessert.

All in all, it was a very good day. This is how we roll in Chestertown.

Posted by bogenamp at 04:47 PM

July 26, 2009

The Behr Family Compound

Here's the fourth and final post on this year's Alaskan adventures. Perhaps I should have started with the photos below, to give you a sense of place. But I skipped straight to the exciting stuff and now am left with the more mundane material. Without further delay:

This is the "old house", where Robbi and her family lived when they first came to Coffee Point 32 summers ago when Robbi was 18 months old and her siblings 4 and 6, respectively.

The house, basically a wood frame with corrugated tin siding, was even smaller then. The garage you see on the right hand side has been added since the early days. Today the old house is used for storage (tools, nonperishable foods, motor oil, etc.) This is the part that used to be the kitchen.

Here's our propane-powered freezer.

Here's the part that used to be the living room. We use it now to hang wet gloves between fishing periods.

Here's the back room of the old house. The shelves that now hold food used to be the bunks where Robbi and her siblings slept.

Here's the garage of the old house, where we hang our wet rain gear to dry.

And on the wall opposite, vegetable storage.

By contrast, here is the "new house", more than ten years old at this point, but a pointed upgrade on many fronts.

Here's the view from the back.

And here's the back deck (notice the enormous pile of old rope).

Inside the new house, we have everything we need.

A place to eat.

A place to cook.

And a hanging slab of bacon.

What else is there?

Another major building is the Kumajo, another barn of sorts, where we hang our nets over the winter.

The second story is a living space where guests sometimes stay.

Here's our water tower. We pump water from a natural spring up into this tower, which then supplies water for various purposes (washing trucks, washing fish, washing boots, etc).

And here's a house that belongs to our neighbor Vern, who was living on the land when Robbi's parents bought it. Vern now lives in a bigger house not far away, but this house remains.

I think some scholar of architecture should study it.

Here is the "detached palace", a small structure nestled in the alders where Robbi and I used to sleep before Alden got born and ruined our fun by needing to be in a warmish room.

Here are our storage containers. Take a close look. These are the containers that sit on the back of tractor trailers. We use them because they are bear-proof. Grizzlies have no problem bashing through the plywood walls of our other buildings. Fortunately, they are seldom motivated to do so.

We store various things in our containers: lumber, tires, some food, etc. Over the winter, we store our 4-wheelers in them.

Here's the net rack, where we can place nets for mending or cleaning.

And here's our pile of old buoys. Why do we save old buoys? you ask. Why not save them, I counter? There's no way to throw them away, and who knows when an old buoy might come in handy. This is the philosophy that governs all things on Coffee Point: save everything for a rainy day.

Here's the view of the bay from the pile of old buoys.

And here is the gray truck.

What's that you say? That truck is not gray? Oh, but you are mistaken. Robbi once told me to look for something that she had left "by the gray truck." I looked to no avail and came back to tell her that there was no gray truck. Robbi got frustrated, stomped over to this truck, and found the object in question. I was rudely accused of not being a good looker. When I countered that this truck was not gray, Robbi would have none of it. Turns out this truck used to be gray, perhaps 20 years ago, long before the ravages of rust took hold. But in Robbi's mind, the truck is still gray. Apparently, she was persuaded by this label that the truck would not rust.

A closer look.

Perhaps the folks at Zeibart also think this truck is still gray.

I know the truth.

Back, though, to my point about not being able to throw anything away up there. In a normal place, the gray truck would have been put out of its misery long ago. Up here, trucks sit where they die forever. Eventually they are harvested for a usable part. (It must be confessed that the gray truck does still, technically, run, but that when its ignition is turned, a fireball shoots out of the engine block.)

There are other things sitting around waiting for the end of days.

This boat.

These outboards.

This snowmobile.

Here are two of our three working four-wheelers. My dream is to some day live on enough acres in Vermont to justify owning one of these, but Robbi says she knows I'll break every one of my bones.

Here are the propane tanks that run our hot water heater and wall-mounted furnace unit.

Here is the garden Seiko grew in a pickup truck bed liner.

Here is our fuel depot.

We use a hand pump to get the gas from the barrels into the various vehicles.

Here is our generator.

Whenever we run it, we charge the various car batteries that power basic functions around the compound (one runs the pump that makes water run from the spigot in the kitchen; another runs our VHF radio unit).

The tour is almost over. I've run out of pictures to show. But I've saved for last one of the most picturesque (and important) buildings on the compound. Here's the outhouse. The board blocking the path means it's occupied at present.

And here is Iggy who, in a rare act of courage and agility, managed to catch a ground squirrel one sunny day on the tundra. I made her put it down, which irked her, but ever since that moment, she has been a new dog. Confident, cheerful, and happy to lie for hours in the Alaskan sunshine just waiting for another opportunity to chase.

Posted by bogenamp at 04:36 PM

July 20, 2009

Baby Naming Contest

I hadn't yet decided whether or not to hold a baby-naming contest this time around, but the gauntlet has already been thrown by our friend Doug, who sent the following image along with the suggestions, "Potpie" and "Mac" (as in mac & cheese). Clearly Doug is playing on my notorious appetite and trying to curry favor by stimulating food cravings.

Consider the contest officially begun. The prize will be a Swanson dinner of your choosing, mailed direct to your home via US Parcel Post.

Posted by bogenamp at 10:57 AM

Robbi Shoots the Moon

You are, perhaps, familiar with the moon.

To commemorate the 40th anniversary of our first landing there, Robbi has decided to make herself over in the moon's likeness. Although the following represents a fair start, she still has nearly six months of work ahead.

To those of you who have suggested that I could never take as many photos of my second child as I did of my first, I aim to prove you wrong.

Exhibit one: (the first of many photos of Tarzan Gramangela Gentlyfierce Swanson). May s/he be neither as willful nor as churlish as his/her mother.

I know such hopes are likely in vain. I'll find out for sure on or around January 15.

Posted by bogenamp at 09:16 AM

July 16, 2009

The Fisherman Prepares

I have been puzzling over how best to introduce this year's fishing season. I've posted in past years with photos of the fishing and the compound, and I'll do that again this time around. But although I've alluded to the various layers of rubber that encase us when we hit the beach, I've never taken the time to go into appropriate detail about the true indignity we suffer when we get dressed for work on the tundra.

Without further ado.

The first step (easy to forget) is to apply sunscreen of maximum strength.

This allows the fisherman to maintain the hard-won pasty whiteness he has cultivated from a winter of life in the barn.

The next step is to go outside where the stinking, wet fishing gear is hung in those rare hours when it is not being worn by the weary fisherman.

Behold the fisherman's underlayer: polypropylene on top and bottom (necessary to wick away the constant perspiration of his Herculean endeavor).

I'm sure you're hoping for another majestic angle.

And yet another (please try to refrain from swooning).

The next step is to don the latex hip waders (with badass boots attached) and rubber rain pants.

Ideally these two steps would be separated for your viewing pleasure, but the harassment of getting the rain pants over the hip waders (on account of the attached badass boots) was so great as to make this combined photo a more palatable option. Please forgive my laziness.

Next up, is a latex glove (the kind worn by medical personnel [because the fisherman is a surgeon of the sea]). These gloves are worn beneath the more robust gloves (see following step), providing a limited sort of comfort and protection.

Right hand first.

And then the left.

The latex gloves are followed by the elbow-length rubber glove, meant to protect the hand, wrist, and forearm from the fish, the fish slime, the fish blood, and the abundance of seawater with which said body parts come in frequent contact.

The next step, vitally important, is to place the lanyard containing one's crew member license around one's neck. This tiny piece of paper, purchased for $350 at the start of the season, asserts the fisherman's right to ply his trade. Without his permit, the fisherman is subject to hefty fines from the Alaska Department of Fish and Game.

Next comes the bright yellow rubber rain coat. It is perhaps the most fashionable element of the fisherman's ensemble. (Though you may be sorely tempted, it is not yet time to submit to your nearly overwhelming admiration.)

Next the fisherman needs his hat.

His life jacket.

And his shades (the fisherman recommends the comprehensive, wraparound Solar Shield sunglasses from Wal Mart [just $19.95!], frequently worn by persons who have just had cataract surgery).

It is appropriate to admire him now.

See how happy he looks thus encased, only small fractions of his skin exposed to the unholy onslaught of his prey.

Once he is thus adorned, the fisherman is obligated to adopt a pose equal to his heroic task.

He is sometimes even moved to pose a second time.

It is perfectly acceptable to swoon now if you like.

Posted by bogenamp at 05:21 PM

July 15, 2009

Back from the Tundra

After 24 hours and 4,500 miles traveled, we have returned from the tundra.

All in all, it was a pretty good fishing year.

We have some photos and stories to share, but for now, we are going to bed. More soon.

Posted by bogenamp at 02:05 PM

June 24, 2009

Gone Fishing

If you have come to these pages looking for fresh content or pictures of babies, I'm sorry to report that you will not be satisfied today. Robbi, Alden, and I are on the tundra near Bristol Bay, Alaska, fishing commercially for salmon with Robbi's family. If you want to picture us now, we are in all likelihood dressed in kneeboots, waders, rubber pants, raincoats, wool caps, and gloves that go up to our elbows. We probably smell bad from sweat and fish blood. We are probably tired and hungry, and yet pleased to be in such a strange, distant, beautiful place. Our Alaska is not the dramatic mountainous one you've seen in infomercials. We don't see icebergs floating by. We look out the window and see endless knobbly tundra, scrubby Alders, winding tundra streams, wildflowers, ptarmigan, caribou, and the occasional grizzly. We have no paved roads or public utilities. We drink rainwater that runs off the roof. We run a diesel generator when we need power. We play a lot of Pinochle.

If it is July 1 or after and if you want to see what we were up to before we left for Alaska, go to Tor.com and look for the various sections of Cory Doctorow's Makers, which is being released on Tor.com over the next six months. Every section of the book will feature an illustration conceived by Idiots'Books and drawn by Robbi. We are sorry to be missing the launch, but perhaps you can check it out on our behalf.

With that, we're truly off (this is being posted from the Anchorage airport, the last bastion of connectivity we'll find for the next three weeks). Be well. And enjoy your running water.

Posted by bogenamp at 07:52 PM

June 23, 2009

Tundra or Bust

We are on the eve of departure for Alaska.

Tomorrow, we will be living here.

We will be in pursuit of this.

While trying to avoid being eaten by this.

We will ride on one of these.

And fish in one of these.

There will be moments of triumph.

Moments of manly fortitude (though few and far between).

Moments of exhaustion.

Moments of questionable parental oversight.

And moments of rest.

I'm guessing that Alden will be harder contain this time around.

But we've decided to bring her nonetheless. But how best to get her there? Instead of suitcases, we travel with coolers full of produce (there are no stores in Coffee Point).

But apparently, Alden finds the cooler not to her liking.

And so we are off. Here's the sad news (for you). I have decided to go off the grid while we are gone. No email, no internet. So no posts. The Barnstorming will be going dark for three weeks. We'll be tuning back in upon our return. Which is July 15 for those of you who might be keeping track. Send me an email if you want to be alerted upon our return.

For now, so long. And enjoy the summer, wherever you may be.

Posted by bogenamp at 03:19 PM

May 30, 2009

Why I Struggle With My Self Esteem

My very good friend David has been traveling in Japan. Yesterday, I received this postcard.

"Oh look," I said, admiring the lovely photograph on the front. "What a nice postcard. David must really care for me."

And then I read the back.

On one hand, I am flattered that David went to such lengths to insult me in this manner. After all, he had to purchase an expensive international plane ticket, conduct exhausting research on the Golden Phoenix, navigate the complex Japanese postal system, and find a pen. It is this last step, I suspect, which challenged him the most.

I have been absent from these pages for the last few days on account of my computer being in the shop. But the helpful folks at the Annapolis Apple Store have made it like new. It was interesting, and somewhat discomfiting, to be away from my computer for three days. I realize how deeply ingrained and instinctual my compu-habits have become: the checking of email, the browsing of baseball box scores, the scanning of salacious headlines on the partisan news sites. It was probably good to be forced to pare back for a few days, a needed diet for the cyberfat.

Plus, being away from my computer has given me more time for the things that really count in life. Like reading postcards from a dear old friend.

Posted by bogenamp at 08:30 AM

May 21, 2009

The Garden

I promised Robbi that when the mural was done, I'd help her plant her garden. If you don't know, I'm not really a gardening guy. Both of my parents are enthusiastic about planting and growing and caring for flowers, bushes, vegetables, and the like, but I just can't understand the thrill. Apparently Robbi has caught the bug, and so in the interest of solidarity, I am doing my best to be supportive and participatory.

Because she has no confidence in her ability to persuade young plants to big plants that will actually provide us with food, Robbi purchased the "Fail-Proof Tomato Kit" online. Its name was affirming. So yesterday we opened the large box and Robbi started assembling her kit, which is basically a large plastic tub with a reservoir that holds water.

As long as the reservoir is not empty, the thing will water itself so that you do not have to remember to do so yourself, thus removing one of the most common factors in tomato failure.

Part of the fail-proof tomato kit was two large bags of topsoil. Robbi mixed the soil with fertilizer in our recycling bin.

And then she mixed it again with her hands. This is the part of gardening I have the most trouble identifying with.

Then she filled the special fail-proof trenches with soil. I get the sense that the trenches are a very important aspect of the fail-proofness.

And then she poured in the rest of the soil.

Once the fail-proof was full of dirt, it was time to select the lucky plants that would get to live in it. Robbi surveyed the collection of small tomato and bean plants she has been growing in the window and tried to determine which seemed to have the most promising characteristics.

Oscar observed the proceedings but did not share his opinions.

Eventually Robbi made her selections.

Instead of choosing the most vital plants, she picked a tomato plant with a bent stem. She is a perpetual champion of the downtrodden, a inclination that extends even to the choice of seedlings.

I wonder if it will be appropriate to bring up this flawed selection if the plants fail to thrive. I think perhaps I will keep such observations to myself.

My job, in addition to taking photos of the magic as it happened, was assembling the horrible metal tomato cage.

I very nearly failed, mostly on account of my bad attitude about the whole thing.

But I soldiered on, not wanting to be the weak link that proved the fail-safe tomato grower wrong. I'm sure there is a clause somewhere that voids the guarantee in the case of there being a surly, impatient husband in the mix.

Eventually the cage was assembled and Robbi was pleased.

Today we got the topsoil for the actual garden bed. I poured it into the frame we built the other day.

Alden helped.

She was fascinated with the dirt. Perhaps this gardening thing skips a generation.

For a while, Alden helped Robbi plant.

But after a while she lost interest and just ran around.

Several of you have asked me to post some pictures of the barn from the outside. Here's a shot that gives you a sense of where the garden is in relation to the barn.

If you are one of the many people who apparently have imagined this barn on 300 lonely acres at the end of a long dirt road, we are sorry to undo what must have been a very pleasant daydream. No, ours is an urban barn, smack dab in the heart of Chestertown's sleepy historic district. Our fertile acreage is limited to that little strip of green between the sidewalk and the street, but this is enough, it seems to keep Robbi very happy and Alden in a perpetual state of wonder.

We will chronicle the non-failure of our tomatoes as weeks pass. Or the failure to not-fail. Whichever the case may be.

Posted by bogenamp at 10:46 PM

May 07, 2009

Back to the Ballpark

Dad and I went to the ballpark again the other night. Zack Greinke, coverboy of this week's Sports Illustrated and the best pitcher in all of baseball (so far) this season was on the mound against the division rival White Sox. It was a gorgeous night.

As usual, Greinke was pitching well. The crowd was into it.

The very large scoreboard was still very large.

We bought $5 nosebleed seats to get through the gate, but instead of actually sitting in them, we wandered around throughout the game. One of the places we stopped was a narrow band of seats just above the right field wall. We were almost close enough to the right fielder to reach out and touch him.

Almost.

Another stop was in a new bank of seats in the deepest part of the outfield, just next to the legendary fountains. I was intrigued to find this sign affixed to the wall there.

I could imagine the occasional home run ball landing in these seats and posing a threat to the onlookers. But a bat? I'm not sure Paul Bunyan could have thrown a bat the 400+ feet it would have had to travel to reach those seats. But I suppose it is better to err on the side of caution in such matters?

The Royals won. Greinke pitched a complete game shutout, his third of this young season. For those of you who don't know about these things, that's quite an accomplishment. The Royals lead their division by 3.5 games. There is excitement in the air in Kansas City. My dad, for example, is full of uncommon optimism about his baseball team.

It's very early still, but led by Greinke, this team is proving its detractors wrong, one game at a time.

Posted by bogenamp at 11:12 PM

April 30, 2009

Kansas City

I have not contributed to these pages for a few days because I have been in transition. Alden and I arrived in Kansas City yesterday for a 17-day visit with my dad and Judy. We left Robbi at home. The decision to part was born of sheer necessity. Robbi has a tremendous amount of work to do, and both Alden and I are simply too distracting. And so we are here and Robbi is there and hopefully she will be able to get some things done in our absence. Providing she doesn't sit around moping and eating ice cream all day long.

Alden is very happy to be reunited with Grandpa John.

Her joy is written all over her face.

We have, in fact, had a very nice first day together. Grandma Judy is in New York for a few days, and so it has been just Alden, Dad, and me hanging out, eating, setting up stacks of tupperware, knocking them over, and laughing hysterically. That sort of thing. But that's not what I'm going to talk about. No, I'm just too distracted by something else.

Notice the Williams College long-sleeve t-shirt my dad is wearing in the photo above.

I gave this shirt to him for Christmas during my freshman year of college. I was a college freshman in 1993. My father has been wearing this shirt for more than 15 years.

There is a lesson here, I think, some sort of truth is embedded in this tale. Should we attribute the unlikely persistence of this bygone gift to my father's steadfast loyalty or to the quality of the apparel offered by the Williams Shop, circa 1993?

There will be more tales of Grandpa/baby antics in the days to come. For now, please keep an eye out for Robbi. If you find her passed out on a park bench with an empty gallon container of ice cream beside her, please help rouse her from the sugar coma and lead her back to her desk.

Posted by bogenamp at 11:41 PM

April 12, 2009

True Confessions

A photo surfaced on Facebook the other day. It has forced me to admit to myself and to those who love me that I used to look like this:

It is sad but true. From freshman year of college through the middle of sophomore year, I did not cut my hair. I cannot now explain what I was thinking or whether there was something I was trying to accomplish. I am thankful that I made it through without seriously hurting myself or others along the way. Of course, reminded of that dark time in my life, I'm filled with feelings of anger--toward myself and the various others who failed to intervene and put a stop to the madness.

I have been tempted from time to time to go as far as possible in the opposite direction and shave my head completely bald, at least for once in my life. Robbi has let me know that although she would not stop me from doing such a thing, she also does not endorse the plan. Apparently, I have an ugly scalp, bumpy and covered with odd moles. I'd make a rather unappealing bald man, she thinks.

And so I'll resolve to remain somewhere in the middle.

Posted by bogenamp at 09:21 PM

April 02, 2009

Not Always the Best Policy

The following is a school assignment turned in by Robbi's friend Whitney when she was but a small girl, presumably a report on a book called Last Day of Brightness. (My Google search returned no information regarding author or date of publication.)

I think this stands as an object lesson for parents regarding the importance of teaching children to either do their homework or be more artful in covering their tracks. There is something so appealing in Whitney's unguarded honesty. And if she truly did not read the book, are we to imagine that what details she does offer are purely fictional, based entirely on the implication of the title? If this is the case, should Whitney not be rewarded for her inventiveness, arguably a more important virtue than the ability to read and reiterate the basic plot elements of a children's book?

Let us not overlook Whitney's decision to begin a new paragraph for her admission of non-reading. And that she remembered to indent it. How wonderful that she paid heed to the fine points of how one is to behave when completing a book report while forgetting the part about reading the book itself.

And don't you wonder what the teacher wrote and then blotted out at the bottom? It probably wasn't "Hurrah, you have imagination. Never let it get away from you." But maybe it should have been.

Whitney is an artist (here is her site). And I think her origins as a creator of things is evident here. This book report is far superior to the one that would have better pleased her teacher.

Here is one of her many wonderful illustrations.

Posted by bogenamp at 11:29 PM

March 29, 2009

Miscellany

We used to drive from Massachusetts to Kansas City in one straight shot, switching off every four hours or so, and making it door-to-door in just about 22 hours. No motels. No sit-down meals. No snooping about at petting zoos or other roadside curiosities. We drove until we got there. And when we got there, we felt fine.

Things have changed. I have been so wearied in the wake of our return trek that I have not even had the fortitude to post. Here, then, are some disconnected items from the past week or so, things that will be lost if I don't get them out. So bear with me.

Last Monday, as we took a deep breath in the wake of four straight days of basketball, we went to visit some of my old friends in Kansas City. We stopped to see my friend Alison, who was meeting Alden for the first time.

Ali's daughter Margo was there, wearing an inspirational princess outfit.

Alden was inspired by the princess outfit.

Though she found out the hard way why princesses don't crawl.

Robbi was inspired by the princess outfit.

I was inspired by the princess outfit, but Margo wouldn't let me wear it. Apparently it was time to dance.

After visiting Ali's we headed out for burgers and milkshakes at Winstead's, a Kansas City dining institution.

Note: the following is a recreation and not a photo of our actual meal.

While there, Alden was almost carried off by the mother ship.

Instead she was carried off by Grandpa John.

Who did his best to teach her how to walk.

She seems enthusiastic about the idea of walking, but has not yet committed to the mechanics. She may be getting closer. Today she stood independently for about twenty seconds.

While we were in Kansas City, Alden took great pleasure in standing on top of the Cookie Monster chair.

Grandma Judy got Alden this and four other headbands for her birthday (in a variety of colors, of course, mean to compliment her many stylish outfits.)

And I completely forgot to mention in the last entry about the birthday: Aunt Courtney got Alden a third eye (to match her own). It is an eerie and disconcerting thing, and fortunately, she does not wear it very often.

On our way home from Kansas City, we stopped in St. Louis to visit our nieces Laramie and Scarlett.

I admire Scarlett's piercing blue eyes.

Somewhere in Indiana, we stopped at a Cracker Barrel that had an Alden-sized rocker outside.

We arrived home and each fell into profound stupor.

The next day, Uncle Donald and Aunt Ann showed up to bring Alden yet another birthday present: a Radio Flyer trike!

Alden's enthusiasm for the trike is evident.

We took her on a ride around the block this afternoon. It did wonders for Alden's sense of self-empowerment and horrible things for my back. Her legs are about three inches too short to reach the pedals and so I must bend over horribly and push her to and fro. This in no way diminishes Alden's sense that she is completely in charge of the tricycle and its motions.

We went to visit Sarah at Bookplate.

Clearly Alden thinks the thing is a Harley and that she is now too cool for the rest of us.

I suppose I ought to get used to this. Now that she is one, it is only twelve years until she becomes a horrible teenager. Several people have advised me to enjoy these years before she knows me well enough to object to the embarrassing things that I do.

From certain looks on certain days, I get the sense that the downfall has already begun.

Posted by bogenamp at 10:05 PM

March 23, 2009

Dog Park

It was another beautiful day in Kansas City.

The flowers were in bloom.

The dogs were content.

Before the fourth straight day of basketball got underway, we decided to go to the local dog park. It was, after all, the birthday of Charley, my stepsister Courtney's very fine dog.

At the dog park, we walked around while the dogs frisked. Grandma Judy was in charge of the high-performance jogging stroller.

Alden was supposed to be wearing this green hat. But she doesn't like it when the hat fits snugly on her head.

No, she much prefers it when the hat sits haphazardly atop her head in such a position that it cannot actually do a bit of good.

She is a contemptuous little cuss. Nevertheless, the exploration of the dog park continued.

Iggy and Charley were particularly taken with the dog tunnel.

Iggy had more trouble with it than Charley did.

But, eventually she made her way through it.

While at the dog park, we let Alden try a few new thrills.

First we tried swinging.

She didn't really like it.

Nor did she think much of sliding.

She wasn't particularly keen on the jungle gym.

Rock climbing, however, might be her born calling.

At the center of the dog park, there was an enormous water tower.

It seemed unlikely that I would be able to jump over it. But the more I convinced myself that it couldn't be done, the more I wanted to try.

Back at home, Alden was attacked by a bear.

After recovering from that trauma, she settled in with Grandpa John to watch the Kansas/Dayton basketball game.

Meanwhile, Charley's birthday party was happening upstairs. Courtney made Charley a special dog cake out of dog-friendly ingredients. Naturally, the cake was shaped like a bone.

Not only did Charley get a birthday cake,

...but he ate it, too.

So far this visit has been overwhelmed with basketball. We have either watched or closely followed 48 games in the past four days. Fortunately, both my team (Duke) and my dad's team (Kansas) managed to advance to the sweet 16, and so both my dad and I are in relatively good spirits as we contemplate three days of no basketball. The powers that be require us to wait until Thursday for the tournament to resume. Good thing, because we are starting to unnerve and alienate the others in our lives, those who do not understand how 48 basketball games in four days can possibly be a good idea.

Fortunately, Alden is not one of these people. She fully understands the importance of college basketball, the tournament, and coming up with novel ways to express one's enthusiasm while cheering for the good guys.

I expect her patented "hand gnaw" move to be all the rage by the time the games resume on Thursday.

Posted by bogenamp at 12:14 AM

March 19, 2009

On the Road

We spent the last 24 hours driving to Kansas. It is so far from Maryland.

We stopped somewhere in Western PA last night. Alden beheld the dawn from the doorway of room 316 at the Motel 6.

We drove and drove. Eventually we stopped to eat. Alden appreciated that the pies at the Blue Belle Diner were, as promised by the billboard, "one foot high."

She was floored by the generous, family-style portions.

As was I. Six hours later, I'm still feeling a little unwell. But we are here, safely arrived at my dad's house. Tomorrow I will watch four Division I men's basketball games. It's what my dad and I do this time every year.

Posted by bogenamp at 01:41 AM

March 12, 2009

Barn in the Snow

It occurs to me that we often talk about the barn but seldom show what it looks like. Many people who come to visit us are disappointed (or at least disoriented) at the gulf between the picture that they have in their heads and the reality that they find when they arrive. Mostly, they are thrown off by the fact that the barn in their minds is in the middle of a field surrounded by open acres and grazing animals. Perhaps at one point our barn was a solitary structure, but now it finds itself smack in the middle of the Chestertown Historic District. It is lucky that the barn is used these days for purposes like making pottery and writing books instead of being part of a grain or pork-producing venture.

We took some pictures of the barn just after last week's snowstorm. Here is our home. And our factory.

In spite of being nestled among other old wooden buildings, the barn is lovely and rich with character. When renovating, we managed to preserve much of the original feel. Please come see it if you happen to find yourself on route 213 with some extra time on your hands. We are almost always home. And if you happen to come by way of Annapolis, please bring a Chipotle burrito.

And here is your reward for three straight days of book-related posts. A picture of two babies in a cat tower.

Not exactly a container, but still...

Posted by bogenamp at 10:55 PM

March 08, 2009

At the Flower Show

Alden and I are here in Philadelphia for the last two days of the Flower Show. She has been very helpful...

...at drawing customers to the booth.

We received several offers from customers wanting to purchase her. But we decided to let her grow for another year in hopes of fetching a higher price next year.

I have taken more pictures, of course, which will be posted when time allows. The show ends at 6:00 tonight and then we pack up the truck for the trip back to Chestertown.

Posted by bogenamp at 05:43 PM

March 06, 2009

Seeking Advice

The Christmas before last, Robbi's parents gave me a set of drinking glasses for Christmas. They are rather nice-looking glasses, and when I opened the box I felt very adult being the kind of person who had a set of matching and nice-looking drinking glasses.

Some months ago, we picked our friend Josh up at his house en route to seeing Tropic Thunder at the Chester 5.

Josh was eating some sort of high-protein homebrew smoothie when we picked him up. He finished the smoothie on the way to the movie and then left the glass on the floor of the car, where it was forgotten when we dropped Josh back off at home after the movie. Over days and weeks, it was gradually covered with sediment, eventually becoming one with the general disorder of the car's interior. When we sold the old car and bought the new one, Josh's glass was unearthed. We brought it inside, nursed it back to health, and gradually incorporated it into our family routine. Although our earnest plan was to return the glass to Josh, I started using it more and more frequently, taking great enjoyment from its sturdy construction, its pleasing contour, and its overall appearance--so prosaically exotic in contrast with my matching set of elegant, adult drinking glasses.

Here is Josh's glass.

Josh came over for dinner the other night, and it occurred to me when he was here that it was probably appropriate to reunite him with his missing glass. I pulled it from the cabinet and ruminated wistfully on the time that the glass and I had spent together, telling Josh how much the glass had meant to me and that, even though I was parting with it willingly, there was a tiny part of me that would perish with the passing of the glass from my life. Josh looked at me as if he understood. He insisted that I keep the glass.

"I couldn't," I said.

"Dude, it's ok," he said. "I think you love the glass more than I do."

"I couldn't possibly," I said.

"I really think you should," he said.

"Ok," I said. And that was that. The glass is mine. Forever.

But there's more. Not only did Josh give me the glass, but he decided to endow it. Placing four quarters on my kitchen counter, he decreed that the money be used to start a fund that would contribute five percent annually to the filling of my glass.

Josh understood that the fund was modest, but that it represented a solid start toward making sure my beloved glass was always full of something good. Josh is that kind of guy.

So my question is this: how shall I invest this dollar, to maximize my options while also guarding against high risk? Given the state of the markets, I'm anxious about making a bad choice.

In any case, I've got the glass itself, which is something these days. Due to the generosity of Josh's endowment, will always be at least half full.

Posted by bogenamp at 02:10 PM

March 04, 2009

Moment of Clarity

Note/Warning: today's post has nothing to do with babies and actually contains subject matter that some might consider mildly offensive. If you have come for cute baby pictures, go here instead.

I was driving to the grocery store yesterday and was stopped at a red light. I looked in my rearview mirror and saw a peculiar message printed on the front of the huge white pickup truck directly behind me. The message read,

BASSIN', BUD AND POONTANG, OH YEAH!

The message itself was astonishing enough, but then I realized . . . given that I was reading the message in my rearview mirror, it was actually printed in backwards lettering. I glanced behind me to confirm that what logic suggested was, in fact, correct.

In spite of being clear, neatly aligned, and entirely legible, the lettering did not seem to be a professionally manufactured decal, but rather a homespun creation. (A subsequent Google search has confirmed my suspicion that "Bassin', Bud, etc" is not a household phrase.) No, someone had evidently decided of his own imagining that it would be a really good idea to write "BASSIN', BUD AND POONTANG, OH YEAH!" on the front of his truck and had summoned the wherewithal and follow-through to actually realize his dream. At no small amount of effort, I venture.

Needless to say, I was awfully impressed. But still, I was left with searching questions:

1) what was I to make of the phrase itself: was it advice, endorsement, or a personal philosophy?
2) what was the meaning of "bassin'"? A Google search quickly confirmed my suspicion that it had something to do with fishing.

3) given the poetic possibilities established by "Bassin'" and "Bud", did the author of the phrase consider "Booty" as an alternative possibility for the third item, for the sake of alliteration?
4) given the evident importance of the message, why did the author of the phrase obscure its meaning by printing it in reverse lettering?
5) did it mean something that I was one of the lucky few to find himself in the exact right spot to read these words and potentially learn from their wisdom? If so, I am still scratching my head, plumbing the depths of my soul for the underlying message. That I may teach others. And understand the wide world just slightly better than I did before.

I was sorry not to have had my camera with me. If I were Robbi, I might draw you a pleasing sketch or use Photoshop to mock up a visual to help you understand how surprising and gratifying the whole thing was. You will simply have to use your imagination. And I must rely upon my memory.

Before I was ready for the moment to end, the light changed, I turned into the Acme parking lot, and my friend the philosopher drove his truck down 213, out of town and on to who knows what adventure.

Posted by bogenamp at 09:10 PM

March 02, 2009

Two Suprises

It doesn't snow much on the Eastern Shore, and when it does, it usually doesn't stay on the ground for long. It was 61 degrees here last Thursday. Dog, baby, and I were out running around in the fields, celebrating the arrival of spring. Winter must have thought our glee premature and unseemly. He has brought his mighty vengeance on Chestertown. And the rest of the East Coast, apparently.

Here is the view down Queen Street at midnight last night.

It was so beautiful and unexpected, I had to take Alden out for a look.

From all evidence, she loved the snow in her face and the strange look of the world.

Every so often she'd catch a huge snowflake in the eyeball and would look up into sky, attempting to see where it had come from.

We had at least six inches at that point, and must have at least four more this morning. Apparently, we're going to get a foot. It must be some sort of recent record for the Shore.

The other surprise? We had a mystery visitor yesterday, who rolled into town just before the snow began to fall:

Apparently news of my reckless, inadequate single parenting had made it all the way to Philly, and Robbi rushed home as quickly as possible to rescue Alden and me from the depths of sloth and gluttony. The baby and I are sorely disappointed. Who knows how long these snows will keep her in our midst...

Posted by bogenamp at 09:10 AM

February 26, 2009

Yesterday

Robbi has been trying to finish up a big project, so yesterday Alden and I decided to get out of her way. We had been looking for a good time to go visit our friend Sarah, who recently had surgery that has rendered her bedridden. We picked up some sandwiches and drove out to her house in Kennedyville, a little town a few miles from Chestertown.

Alden encountered a new cat and her first cast. It was difficult to tell which impressed her less.

On the way home from Sarah's, we stopped by the road to watch a huge flock of birds take off and land and take off and land.

They were so beautiful that I took a bunch of photos, but none of them are satisfying.

I feel like showing two, hoping that somehow two photos will do a better job than one of capturing the spectacular movement of this wall of wings. I know that I am only being hopeful. The dramatic flights of many birds moving wordlessly in concert is one of the most incredible things I know of to experience in person.

And one of the lamest things to look at in a photo.

The project Robbi has been working on is a short film that is one component of a larger project we are doing for the website tor.com. We have been commissioned by the folks at tor.com to creatae a series of "stories" that can be downloaded from their site and constructed into physical books. We came up with an idea which allows someone to fold and make one cut in a single sheet of paper and in so doing create a "book" that can be recombined (pictures and words, both) into ten separate "stories." It's kind of the same idea as our books Ten Thousand Stories and After Everafter, but with a single piece of paper.

Anyway, the act of folding, cutting, and recombining is somewhat complex, so Robbi made a short movie, which will be downloadable from YouTube, to show the reader how to build and manipulate the book.

By setting our video camera on a chair atop our flat table, Robbi was able to capture an eagle-eye view of the action while watching her work on the little screen.

It's a nice little movie, and now Robbi can add "filmmaker" to her list of unexpected powers.

There will be four stories in the series, and they will be posted every two weeks starting in early March. I'll be sure to let you all know when the first one is available.

Robbi leaves tomorrow morning for the Philadelphia Flower Show, leaving me, the baby, the dog, both cats, and the fish alone to fend for ourselves. In spite of the lean economy, the Chestertown Taco Bell will experience a dramatic spike in sales over the next ten days.

Posted by bogenamp at 12:16 AM

February 22, 2009

When Technology Goes Too Far

I am a Mac guy and have been since my freshman year of college. This means I have access to the wonderful application iChat, with which I keep in touch with various friends, either by typing messages back and forth or by having conversations via video. Alden's two sets of out-of-town grandparents make regular appearances on the other end of the video chat. Usually the session consists of watching the baby drive her plastic car or watching her eat or watching her throw things and yell. Really grandparents have no high standards when it comes to the subject matter of a video chat. But tonight we took the grandparent video chat in a whole new direction. Let me set the stage.

Tonight was the second matchup of the season between the Duke Blue Devils and the Demon Deacons of Wake Forest. Wake clipped Duke in the final seconds of a hard-fought game three weeks ago in Winston Salem. Alden and I were keenly interested in a different outcome in the rematch.

We put on our Duke garb.

And I had on my Duke slipper sneakers.

My keen interest in Duke basketball stems from the keen enthusiasm of my mother, who, as a dancer at Duke, was once asked to fill in as a Duke cheerleader for the ACC tournament one year. We always "watch" the games "together." In the time before iChat, this meant calling one another on the phone during commercials or at halftime, and sometimes even for the final minutes of a particularly tense or important game. More recently, we have chatted with one another on iChat throughout the game, making such insightful comments as "nice three!" or "terrible call!" or "boy oh boy do I hate UNC." But tonight my mother could not get the game on any of the hundreds of channels available via her satellite cable package. I, being in ACC country, was able to watch it. What to do? How to reconcile the inequity?

By placing my mac on stack of books set upon a stool...

...and pointing the screen at the TV...

...we were able to project the game from the TV to my mac to my mother's screen in Andover.

In this manner, three generations of Duke fans watched the game together.

During commercials, Alden and I visited with my mom.

It turned out to be serendipitous that we were all together, as the game was a tough one to endure. Down by 22 points early, Wake rallied to pull within two. My mom and I exchanged groans of agony when Wake scored and cries of joy when Duke did. All the while, Alden struggled to grasp the import of what was happening. My carryings-on probably constituted the most baffling behavior she has witnessed in her life to date.

In the end, my team won, racking up 100 points for the first time in five years. Alden and I were incredibly excited. After saying good night to mom, Alden requested that I jump, a thing I have not done for many months.

In honor of Duke's victory and because I was wearing my lose-fitting comfortable penguin pants, I decided to give it a go.

Who am I to disappoint a child?

Posted by bogenamp at 11:22 PM

February 18, 2009

In Defense of Summer

I woke up early this morning and couldn't get back to sleep, so I stopped trying to fight it and came over to Sam's, our little coffee shop on Cross Street, to do a little writing and watch as Chestertown woke up. As I walked over from the barn, the tops of the buildings were bathed in rich amber light. I wish I'd had the camera with me so that I could show you.

Something in the way this morning feels, takes me to Lake George, where Robbi's family has a cottage.

It's up there nestled in those trees, closed down for winter with its water turned off, waiting for the thaw and the new leaves.

We'll head up there at some point for at least a long weekend on the banks of that beautiful lake.

I'm usually a cold weather, dark skies kind of guy, preferring rainstorms and gloom to sunshine. But something in this morning's early light reminded me that there's a place for summer, too.

Posted by bogenamp at 07:56 AM

February 17, 2009

Dog Days

Iggy used to get a lot more love on these pages. And a lot more love in general. She is a good and patient dog, resigned to her demotion. Instead of dwelling on her fate, Iggy chooses to focus on the scant pleasures that remain in her life since the arrival of Alden.

Like going outside.

We had spectacular weather over the weekend.

Blue, cloudless skies.

Brown, flaky grass.

Crisp, early spring air.

It was enough to make a dog feel like a puppy again.

While Iggy and Robbi romped in the athletic fields up at the college, Alden and I (and the BOB off-road jogging stroller) navigated the perimeter.

But the day belonged to Iggy. She was a dog in her element.

For an afternoon, at least, she was out from under the oppressive thumb of that miserable baby.

Posted by bogenamp at 09:19 AM

February 06, 2009

Returning the Favor

On a lark, I checked the Barnstorming tracking software yesterday and saw that traffic had been through the roof all week. My first thought was that this was a clear referendum on the post Robbi put up this past Monday when I was in New York. This made Robbi swell with pride. But then I dug a bit deeper into the submenus and found that we had been besieged with hits from Ephblog, a blog where various Williams graduates and profs post on all things Williams. They were good enough to do a post on the upcoming Idiots'Books tour event in Williamstown next Monday night. If you take the time to check it out, be sure to read the message string below the post, in which an amusing debate about the merits of the Williams English major transpires. The following comment is perhaps my favorite:

Lawyers help people (see, e.g., pro bono work). What do english majors contribute, aside from extra foam on on a latte? (NOTE: the two errors in the second sentence are not mine.)

Clearly, I have been missing my calling. I'm off now to apply for the open barista position at the Annapolis Starbucks.

Thanks for the ink, people of Ephblog.

And for those of you who only read to see photos of babies, here's one from the vault.

Posted by bogenamp at 08:55 AM

February 02, 2009

Gone Daddy Gone

So, today Matthew up and left for the big city. New York City, that is. He lit a shuck for New York City, as they used to say in the wild west (we've been watching Deadwood on Netflix (trying to squeeze it in before Alden starts to imprint the f-word) and it's put me in the mind of all those sappy Louis L'Amour books I used to read (and still drag out on occasion when I'm feeling the need for a predictable plot line and a happy ending) (not the kind of happy ending that seems to happen quite a lot on Deadwood, I mean the other kind, the kind that happens at the end of a story)), one of my old favorites being this one, mostly for its title). Anyhoo - this is all to say that Matthew is gone today. Which means everyone got depressed.

I mean, EVERYONE.

Iggy spent the whole day looking woefully out the window:

Oscar could barely stay on his cat tower, so strong was his urge to fling himself off:

And even Lily - crabby, unsympathetic Lily - considered the allure of the noose, even more deadly when made from live wire:

I mean, it doesn't get any more pathetic than this.

Unless, perhaps, you consider this:

Alden refused to move from this position for the entire morning. She said, "Mom, I'd rather spend all day looking at the floor than having to suffer you trying to live up to Dad's entertainment value. Please, please stop singing like that."

It was a long morning.

By mid-afternoon, she started to sway, and the combination of too much blood to the head and low blood sugar soon led to collapse. I took advantage of my upper hand, and threw her into a pile of paper trimmings, thinking it might cheer her up and remind her of the good times she spends with her dad, getting thrown into piles of things.

She took it calmly, but did not sway from her resolve to be sad. She spent the rest of the day trailing around the big pile of trash, much like Pigpen and his cloud of dust.

All I have to say is, thank goodness he gets back tomorrow. It's exhausting trying to keep this carnival running when the ringmaster is off waxing his mustache.

Posted by ribbu at 10:08 PM

January 29, 2009

Two Degrees of Barack Obama

This morning Christian sent me a link to an article announcing new additions to Obama's White House Counsel staff. Among them, I am pleased to announce is friend and college classmate Jon Kravis, who has been named Associate Counsel to the President. Jon is one of those eerily smart guys who is, at any given moment, capable of saying something brilliant and remarkable, and yet he is also nice, funny, and talented in other ways. In short, Jon is awesome. And now he's awesome AND Associate Counsel to the most powerful man in the world. Does this mean that Jon is now more awesome than he was before? I'd argue that it isn't possible. If you add "awesome" to "infinity" it's still just infinity, right? I argue that the same holds with Jon, who was already as awesome as a guy can be. But now he's awesome in an entirely new way.

Here's the little bio on Jon published in the article I linked to above (in case you are the type who doesn't like to link to things).

Jonathan Kravis
The President has named Jonathan Kravis to be Associate Counsel to the President. Mr. Kravis recently served as an Assistant United States Attorney in the United States Attorney's Office for the District of Columbia. Prior to this, he was an associate at Williams & Connolly in Washington, D.C. Earlier in his career, he served as a Law Clerk to Justice Stephen Breyer of the Supreme Court of the United States and to Judge Merrick Garland of the United States Court of Appeals for the D.C. Circuit. Kravis received his bachelor's degree from Williams College and his J.D. from Yale Law School, where he served as an editor of the Yale Law Journal.

And here is a photo of Jon and me at dinner a year or so ago, just the two of us in private conversation, discussing important things with far-reaching impact, and basking in the overall wonder that is Jon.

We are proud of you, sir. Go be just. And if your boss wants to be an Idiots'Books subscriber, we'll totally put him on the list for free.

Posted by bogenamp at 02:18 PM

January 28, 2009

The Monk by the Sea

I was an English and religion major in college and so I did a lot of reading and writing. At the time, I had never thought much about art and had no idea what a big role it would play down the line. Not only do I work for a design firm and spend a lot of my time as Robbi's sounding board and editor on the illustration front, but now I am an art professor.

Robbi and I are teaching a course called Pictures and Words through the art department at Washington College. It is a semester-long version of the course we taught at Williams College last January. We have a handful of writers and a handful of visual artists (though a number of our students write and draw), and together we are examining the act of collaboration, specifically what it means to work with a partner in another medium on stitching together a coherent, compelling artwork involving both image and word.

Our class meets weekly (from 7:00pm-9:30pm) and is going well so far. We have a great group of students, all of whom seem genuinely interested in exploring the questions the course is asking. At the end of the semester, we will have a public presentation/reading of their work. Rest assured, you will be invited.

Because my college was known for art history, I did manage to squeeze in the two-semester introductory art history survey course, or at least one-and-a-half semesters as an auditor. I saw a great many slides from that seat in the dark auditorium, many of which I admired. But one painting has always stood out for me as my favorite. And now that I am an art professor, I feel qualified to share it with you.

This is The Monk by the Sea, by Caspar David Friedrich.

I really like it and stuff.

Posted by bogenamp at 09:35 PM

January 26, 2009

Weekend in Baltimore

We drove across the bridge last Saturday to visit with Christian, Emily, and Iris. The girls are getting bigger and slightly more aware of one another.

For example, they were playing together happily on the floor when Alden picked up a plastic rattle and whacked Iris in the face. The expected wailing ensued. Alden looked around guiltlessly, as if to say, "What? That was nothing. What a weenie." I did not photograph the episode.

We did all sorts of things: playing Sorry, playing Wii, cooking and eating, watching basketball, walking for five minutes in the park before deciding that it was too muddy, and going to brunch. For most of it we forgot to pull out the camera. But we remembered to bring it to brunch.

Alden had to sit next to Christian, which she hated.

He tried to get back into her good graces by helping her with the menu.

But the puny little grouch rebuffed his kindness and indicated that she preferred to read it herself.

She decided on the eggs Benedict.

But upon being reminded that she was still a tiny baby, decided instead on bananas and peach flavored rice puffs.

We used the occasion to celebrate our 12th Christmas of the holiday season by giving Iris a gift.

It was a jack-in-the-box, something we expected to terrify her. We were worried as we cranked it: Would she cry? Would she scream?

The clown popped out. We waited for her reaction.

Nothing.

Apparently the terror of clowns does not set in until sometime beyond the eighth month. Or perhaps the rattle incident hardened her to the realities of life in a world occupied by Alden.

Posted by bogenamp at 09:35 PM

January 15, 2009

Alden and Spud

We saw Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull tonight. It was horrible. Horrible. My pleasant childhood memories of Indy's bold adventures have been dashed against the jagged rocks of this awful, awful attempt to revitalize the franchise.

Indiana Jones does not deal with aliens. He does not have an illegitimate son. And he does not get married and live happily ever after. Perhaps the first three movies were just as bad. But they are safely locked in the sanctum of my memory, where Indiana Jones is cool and funny and where his adventures are exciting and suspenseful and not about aliens. Or matrimony.

If you have not seen the movie, don't. Don't let nostalgia get the better of you.

I'm too demoralized to write anything more. And so I'll share another photo of Alden's visit with Spud the other day.

In the child's opinion, Spud is what a pet should be, an absolute whore for attention, and not a nervous Weimaraner or a diffident cat.

Posted by bogenamp at 11:58 PM

January 09, 2009

New Word

Robbi just brought a new word to my attention, or rather, a new name for a common word, or rather, a very old name (new to me) for a common word that I have known for a long time.

The word is octothorp, which is the printer's traditional name for the pound sign.

This information is unlikely to help you in any way, but perhaps it will give you some small moment of delight as you count the minutes to the start of the weekend.

Posted by bogenamp at 02:59 PM

January 04, 2009

The Greatest Gift of All

If you think this entry is going to be about babies, you are a sentimental sap who completely misunderstands the purpose of this blog, which is to talk about cars, guns, and babes. And cats.

Robbi, Alden, and I ended up having ten Christmases this year, the first of which happened way back in October. Seiko came up to our studio early one afternoon and asked us if we'd be willing to come over to her and Bob's house that evening to receive our Christmas present. I was puzzled by the timing, but nevertheless delighted. We showed up at the appointed hour.

There were two reasons for the early gift. The first became apparent as soon as we entered the living room. The box containing the present was enormous, and Seiko didn't want to have to put up with it for two extra months.

And so I opened the box. Inside, I found a large plastic orb that bore an uncanny resemblance to the Death Star.

I continued to explore the yet-unempty box. The orb had a stand.

I had absolutely no idea what it was. And then I read the accompanying literature. We were proud owners of the Litter Robot, the final word in self-cleaning litter boxes.

Our spirits soared as we reflected on the end of an era. Would we ever scoop malodorous clumps of cat yuck from the litterbox again? It seemed that we would not. We hastened home to try the thing out.

Here is a schematic of the orb.

Basically, the Robot's orb sits on the stand. The orb is full of litter. When the cat enters the orb, the weight of its feet activate a switch deep within the orb. Seven minutes later (which must be the maximum time possible that a cat can possibly spend making yuck) the orb turns 270 degrees counterclockwise. In the process, the good litter is separated from the yuck and saved in a special compartment while the yuck goes into a hermetically sealed, soundproof chamber in the base. The orb then returns to its proper orientation, full of nothing but the freshest, most wholesome litter.

And folks, it works! All you skeptics may watch this very nice animated movie that shows exactly how the miracle happens.

Cat in:

Cat out:

I wish you could have seen his face as this picture was taken. He was so very happy.

Once a week we open the base and remove a pre-bagged pile of yuck. We take it to the trash. In the interim, no foul odor emanates from the Litter Robot. This, we learned, was the second reason for the early Christmas gift. Bob and Seiko reasoned that there was no earthly reason to endure two more months of stinky litter box if our lives could all be made complete and sweet-smelling by bringing the Robot into our lives mid-October.

We have been happy and sweet-smelling ever since.

Needless to say, I am tempted to put Alden into the orb. Not only would this provide another entry for the Babies in Containers contest, but it might save on diapers. So far, her mother has yet to consent to the scheme, but I sense her resolve may be weakening. More on that front to come.

Posted by bogenamp at 10:18 PM

December 31, 2008

Call Me Biff

I wrote an email to a friend of mine today, telling her how excited I was about my recent acquisition, a BOB Ironman jogging stroller.

The Bob Ironman jogging stroller is not the point of this entry (in spite of its being an exquisite, appealing, and altogether useful piece of parenting equipment), but you may click here to see an animation of it spinning provocatively 360 degrees along its vertical axis.

The point of this entry is that, upon hearing about my enthusiasm for the BOB, my friend wrote back with unkind words: "BTW, you do realize you're becoming a yuppie, don't you? First the minivan, then the super, duper jogging stroller. It's just a matter of time before you start showing up in chinos, Izods, and penny loafers. Can I call you Biff?"

I'm not much of an Izod man, and I don't think I'd know a pair of chinos from your standard khaki. I do have a ten-year-old pair of woebegone penny loafers Robbi will only let me wear indoors. But I must confess to truly loving my minivan. (It's so spacious, so convenient.) And though the BOB is still en route from the factory, I anticipate loving it very much. With its adjustable tracking, quick-release wheels, one-handed easy-folding design, adjustable suspension system capable of three inches-travel, near flat reclining seat, stainless-steel spokes, aluminum hubs and rims, high pressure 16" road tires, 5-point safety harness, fixed front wheel, 1-step folding, alloy hubs, and footbrake, how could it fail to delight?

If my minivan and BOB make me a yuppie, I suppose I'll have to embrace the mantle. Call me Biff, if you must, but when you see me out running along Water Street with my baby in tow, try your hardest not to stare.

Posted by bogenamp at 08:54 PM

December 30, 2008

Christmas Recap

Having already enjoyed five Christmases, we drove north to Andover, north of Boston, for Christmas proper. My mother lives there with Dean, and each of my three siblings flew in from points distant to share in the holiday cheer. Things were festive in the expected ways.

There was a large, well-decorated tree.

Beneath which were presents.

Next year Alden might understand the concept of opening presents. This year, her chosen approach was climbing on top and trying to intimidate them.

One of the presents retaliated.

When Iggy saw this, she resolved not to open hers, in spite of being very, very tempted.

We had Christmas cookies.

Which were, apparently, very delicious.

And traditional Christmas Eve spaghetti and meatballs.

And Christmas Day cinnamon rolls. My mother only made two plates of them. And yet, as it turns out, I was expected to share.

My sister Andy, home from Haiti, where she lives and teaches, gave Alden this hat that resembles an old-time football helmet.

Alden, who is accustomed to being able to grab her ears at will, was unnerved by the hat.

My sister Lindsay, visiting from Portland, showed up the day after Christmas with my nephew Orin in tow.

Orie is a good little man, about seven-and-a-half months old.

Alden loves Orie. To demonstrate her affection, she beat the crap out of him.

Despite being two months younger, Orie outweighs her by a good six pounds. But she's quick. And mean.

The cousins made amends at mealtime.

Alden was so relieved to have her ears back that she forgot her conquest to dominate Orie and make him cry. Isn't that, at essence, what Christmas is all about?

Posted by bogenamp at 11:27 PM

December 29, 2008

Demoralized

I accidentally closed the Barnstorming admin window without saving the blog entry I had been working on for the past hour, and so I have nothing for you but a mighty heaping of self-pity. I will leave you with this photo I likely would have posted on some other day. It is the first documented evidence of Alden's teeth. You can see them when she yells. Here she is dismayed because someone has taken the liberty of rubber banding her favorite drawers shut.

I will try to recreate the lost narrative of holiday cheer if and when I can summon the energy. For now, I will say that we are home and determined to enjoy the last few days of the year before the new one arrives and asks us to be better, try harder, etc.

Posted by bogenamp at 12:40 AM

December 23, 2008

Five Christmases

I have lots of family in many different places. Which means that Christmas is not so much a calendar date as it is a series of events. So far we've had one Christmas in Flowery Branch, Georgia and three in Chestertown. In a few days, we'll have another one in Andover, Massachusetts.

We're about to head out now to drive there, but I've been remiss the last few days and so will post a photo of Alden hanging her first Christmas ornament (a sugar cookie) on the grapefruit tree, with help from Auntie Maiko.

Here's hoping that all of you will have a safe and happy holidays.

Posted by bogenamp at 10:09 AM

December 18, 2008

My Favorite Birthday Card

Reflecting back on the first day of my 35th year, two moments stand out as particularly wonderful. The first happened not long after I got up and dressed for my day at the office. Robbi presented me with a warm bowl of macaroni and cheese made as a birthday breakfast by my pal Christian, at whose home we spent last night.

There is no better way to kickstart one's birthday. I blew out the candle. And went to work.

The second moment happened not an hour ago, when I opened my email and found this photo attached to a birthday message from my sister Lindsay.

My nephew Orin in his birthday suit.

At the risk of stepping away from the birthday theme for a moment, I'll share a few pictures from last night. Here are Christian and me with our babies in front of the Christmas tree.

And here are Alden and Iris sharing the limitless pleasure of the Exersaucer.

A friendship is brewing, I think.

A third moment of this day that bears mention is my extraordinary gift from Bob and Seiko: The Amazing Nose Whistle. It is, as the name suggests, a musical instrument powered by air expelled from one's nose. I was incredulous at first, but after a few extravagant failures to make the thing work, I was, in a few minutes time, able to toot out the tune of Oh Susana (no thanks to the sheet music provided in the box). When time permits, I will post photos of The Amazing Nose Whistle in action.

But for now I am off to celebrate the waning moments of this birthday by going to sleep.

Posted by bogenamp at 08:21 PM

December 14, 2008

On the Road Again

We are minutes shy of embarking for Atlanta, where we will visit my grandparents on my mother's side and introduce them to Alden for the first time. It will be our first long foray with the minivan, whom we have recently named Pepe Steve II, or PS2 for short. The benefits of a roomy interior have already been realized in the packing phase. Instead of the frustrating cramming that has accompanied every attempt to pack for a trip since this wretched child came upon the scene, I tossed our various suitcases, pillows (I travel with six), and assorted articles of baby accessory into the back with careless aplomb. Basically, we can bring everything we own and never have to worry that we might have forgotten anything.

In case this is the last chance I have to post before we get back to town next Thursday, I'll leave you with the latest installment of the baby wars.

Here is the latest from Orin, who is almost a dead ringer for a piece of china.

And Garcia. Apparently Gina didn't want to spring for the extra plane ticket.

She swears she poked some holes in it.

And, to make sure Garcia was taken care of en route, Diego came along as well.

And here is Alden, doing her best imitation of a flower arrangement.

Or is it performance art?

Remember that if the prospects of Christmas shopping are getting you down, there is no gift that says I love you (or that requires as little personal energy to bestow) like a subscription to Idiots'Books.

Or a diamond. That works, too.

Posted by bogenamp at 09:23 AM

December 04, 2008

Another Hat in the Ring

Apparently inspired by the spirit of competition, my sister Lindsay sent me a few photos last night, expressing her desire to join the fray of the Cute Pictures of Babies in Containers competition recently launched between Gina and me.

Here is Lindsay's first contribution: Orin in a pot.

Apparently, he is a very critical cook, and kept tasting the broth as he simmered, suggesting new ingredients to the consternation of the chef.

At some point, we'll resolve this competition with a proper vote, but for the time being, I invite those of you with small, defenseless children to join us in sharing pictures of them in preposterous situations with the world.

Think how very useful photos like these will be some day when we need blackmail material to rein in wayward teen behavior.

This morning's contribution from our camp is Alden in Bob and Seiko's new pug mill, a machine used to reconstitute old, dried-up clay.

Apparently, Alden didn't want to be reconstituted.

Kids today...

Posted by bogenamp at 08:16 AM

December 03, 2008

This Weekend in New York

First off, a bit of business. This coming Saturday and Sunday (December 6 and 7, Robbi and I will be standing behind a table at the 21st Annual Independent & Small Press Book Fair, selling and signing books and engaging in other related activity.

Here's how the folks who run the Fair describe it:

"Celebrate publishing's independent spirit with over 100 indie publishers from around the world, all under one roof, selling books you can't get at your big box bookstore. The Indie and Small Press Book is one of New York City's favorite annual literary events. It's free, open to all, and packed with an exciting line-up of public events. Donations encouraged."

And here is the relevant information, should you be in the NYC area and interested in stopping by.

Book Fair Date/Time: Saturday, December 6, 2008, 10 AM to 6 PM and
Sunday, December 7, 2008, 11 AM to 5 PM
Book Fair Location: The New York Center for Independent Publishing
in the General Society for Mechanics & Tradesmen Building
20 West 44th Street between 5th and 6th Avenues
New York, NY 10036
Telephone: 212.764.7021 Fax: 212.840.2046

On to other business, Robbi and I have been trying periodically to recreate the iconic shot of my dad and me lounging in bed when I was but a wee thing.

Here's our most recent attempt.

Still not quite right, compositionally and otherwise, but I like the shot. Alden is turning into a bit of a ham. When she's in a good mood. When she's in a bad mood, she's turning into something of a terror.

As demonstrated in this shot, taken a few minutes later. Am I wrong, or does it look as if she was aiming to knock me out?

We'd love to see you in NYC this weekend. The child will be with us, most likely driving us, and other exhibitors in our vicinity, up a wall. Anyone interested in spending QT with Alden may come claim her and take her on long, exhausting walks around the city. We'll provide the baby carrier, binkie, and freeze-dried yogurt snacks. And gratitude in no small quantity.

Posted by bogenamp at 10:27 PM

November 30, 2008

Soccer Mom

Yesterday we took our trusty Sentra Steve in for an oil change. When the guys at Geno's called to say that it was time to pick up the car, they shared the bad news: Steve was not thriving. Apparently, his exhaust system was one trip down a bumpy road away from falling off entirely. Additionally, the struts were shot and the axle was about to break. And the clutch needed replacement. It was a sad conversation.

For point of reference, here is Steve in his glory:

Robbi and I reflected on our situation, trying for the first time to see Steve not as the beloved family member that he has surely proven himself to be these past five years, but as the warty, bruised, imperfect auto that he has become. To Steve's litany of ailments, we had to add the following:

1) driver's side window that will not go down
2) broken glove compartment that will not shut
3) leaking trunk that, consequently, reeks with mildew and damages anything placed therein
4) rear bumper held on with rusted wire
5) various deep gouges/scratches on interior
6) various superficial scrapes and dings in body
7) "check engine light" stuck perpetually in "on" position
8) broken light in radio, rendering it impossible to see what station you are looking for at night
9) stains and wear throughout upholstery surface
10) multiple dog nose smudges on every window surface

It was a depressing calculus. We made a tough decision. And spent some time on the internet. Yesterday Robbi found a car that seemed to fit our new baby/dog/bookmaking lifestyle. It was, alas, a minivan.

Today we drove across the bridge to Laurel and set eyes upon the yet-to-be-named newest member of our family.

She is a Nissan Quest.

An enormous vehicle, capable of seating seven adults comfortably.

Or of seating two adults, one baby, one 82 pound dog, and crates of books quite comfortably.

It even has a nifty space-age control panel.

But it's a mini-van, you say.

True, I admit. But it is a sexy one, according to the experts.

As excited as we were about the prospects of the new, roomy, functional car, we were both feeling pretty blue about losing Steve. He was our first major purchase together and has taken us to and fro so reliably for the past five years. From Williamstown to Savannah to Baltimore to Chestertown. With many sidetrips along the way. Robbi took it especially hard.

It was difficult saying goodbye.

Eventually she came to the conclusion that Steve was moving on from us for positive reasons. He was headed not to the junk yard but to college, where he would learn how to be a better, more fully self-realized car.

And really, given that the new car is a Nissan, we're really keeping things within the family.

I am pleased with the new car.

When we got back home, we brought Iggy out to make the introduction.

She was wary at first, but soon warmed to the car on account of the ample room it provided. Iggy is an antsy traveler. She will now have the option of running laps as we drive.

Farewell, Steve. You've been an outstanding car. Hello, middle age. We are slightly more prepared for you now than we were just this morning. We will try to embrace you as graciously as possible.

Please do your best to return the favor.

Posted by bogenamp at 12:34 AM

November 18, 2008

Virginia

With the aim of resting ourselves for a few days, we headed out for Virginia last Thursday morning. We drove across the Bay Bridge. We headed west to Lovettsville, Virginia, where our friend Wild Bill lives on some dozens of wild acres. He cooked us lunch on top of his woodstove.

My plate was piled high with things that Bill had either grown (collards, beets, turnips, zucchini, sweet potatoes) or butchered (a fine pig).

Well-fed and wild, we headed south toward Schuyler, Virginia, where our friends Bernice and Armand live. While visiting with them, we took a walk around their lake. Armand carried a machete. It's what he does.

Armand's otherwise happy life is complicated by the presence of a particularly ruthless thorny weed that grows enthusiastically around the lake. Armand has no compunction about dispatching it with the machete.

He is also aggravated by beavers.

And bucks, who thoughtlessly rub their antlers against the trees.

As fearsome as a machete may look, it apparently does little to deter beavers. Or bucks. But in spite of the pervasive menace, we managed to have a nice walk.

Afterward, Armand let us ride his off-road Segway.

I had a quick lesson.

And then was off and rolling.

Iggy smoldered with resentment at not being offered a try.

Robbi, however, would not be denied.

While visiting with Bernice and Armand, we took the opportunity to place Alden in a plastic box they had.

After a very nice day and night at Schuyler, we drove further south and further west to our ultimate destination, Douthat State Park in southwestern Virginia.

We had a lovely little cabin nestled in the trees, not far from a lake, in the bottom of a valley.

We had a large stone fireplace.

And a completely uncomfortable couch.

We had a kitchen and a bedroom and a shower and a thriving heating unit. We were very comfortable.

They even folded the towels up into fancy hotel shapes.

On Saturday, we took a hike up into the mountains.

We came upon a terrifying spider.

I carried my child in the green backpack.

My child is heavier than she used to be. Eventually, we reached the top of the mountain.

As we were climbing down again, Robbi suddenly threw a nut that hit me in the eye.

"Ha ha," Robbi said, "That was supposed to be funny."

I hereby vouch that it was not funny.

But the world was beautiful, and I quickly forgot the funny nut incident.

Iggy loves nothing more than being in the woods.

That night we had a feast. Spaghetti, coleslaw, and bad biscuits.

I put my baby in a large plastic pitcher to celebrate.

I put her in the Baby Gap bag to celebrate some more.

And then I put on Alden's hat and did some freestyle rap, which is Robbi's favorite thing.

Or is it her least favorite thing? I can't remember.

The next day we took a hike around the lake. We came to the playground where Iggy first learned to use a slide four years ago on our first visit to Douthat.

Alden demanded to be included in the fun.

She then further demanded that she was "too old to be going down the slide with [her] stupid dad" and that she wanted to do it by herself. Who are we to stand in the way of her fledgling independence?

We walked up the long set of stairs that leads to the top of the dam.

Robbi found a tree that reminded her childhood summers herding cattle in Montana.

When we got back to the cabin, she made a big fire.

While Iggy and I tried our best to take a nap on the bad couch.

Later we ate dinner, and eventually went to bed.

In the morning, we drove home.

As it always has, Douthat revived our spirits and gave us occasion to rest a bit. At the risk of seeing our little slice of solitude overrun by the lot of you, I heartily recommend it should you need a place to get away for a few days. And if, like me, you are generally grouchy about big crowds of people, may I recommend a November sojourn there. We have never yet encountered a single soul on the paths. The valley was ours to do with as we pleased.

Posted by bogenamp at 11:28 PM

November 17, 2008

33

Today is Robbi's birthday. She is 33. To commemorate the occasion, Seiko made Robbi's favorite kind of birthday treat, jello sponge cake.

It is remarkable stuff. Alden had her first taste of this delicacy that she will come to know so well. At first the raspberries were a mystery to her, but she figured it out.

We have been camping and hiking in the woods of southern Virginia for the better part of the last four days. There are many stories and pictures to share in days ahead.

But for now, Happy Birthday, Robbi. It has been a very good year.

Posted by bogenamp at 12:18 AM

November 10, 2008

Five Years

Saturday was the five-year anniversary of Robbi's and my wedding day. We might not have remembered the occasion had not my dad called up a few days before to ask what our plans were. Our plans consisted of sitting in our studio waiting for all of humanity to come by to see our books. And come they did. The place was jammed with visitors from 10:00am straight through to 5:00pm. Later that night we handed the child off to Bob and Seiko and went to Andy's, our local pub, to watch a band with our friend Emily (not Piendak).

The band in question, Bombadil, is a Durham, North Carolina-based group of guys who put on a really good show.

They are extremely inventive and energetic performers, fantastic songwriters, and incredibly versatile musicians, continually swapping instruments throughout the show. They all sang. They all played percussion. They rocked out at times, but also knew how to spin a ballad. They wore fantastic hats and weren't afraid to use them. We had a grand time, a fitting beginning to the first day of the second five years of our marriage.

Here is Bombadil's MySpace page if you want to have a listen. You can buy their album on the iTunes store.

We went to bed that night tired and happy and woke Sunday morning to more crowds in the studio. We were pleased enough with the fact that people were buying our books and saying nice things about them, but imagine our delight when none other than Bombadil (all four of them) showed up in our studio for a visit. They had heard about our books, and had come to have a look.

They hung out for a while, generally being awesome and nice, reading our books, and making us feel good about ourselves. I might have been content to merely bask, but could not resist the temptation to suggest that we all play a song together. The very generous fellows of Bombadil were gracious and accommodating. I pulled out my harmonica and we jammed.

It was unquestionably the high point of a very fine weekend. I mean, how often does one have real live rock stars visit one's home?

In parting, it's worth noting that the thing we really like to celebrate on November 8th is that it is also the anniversary of the day that Christian and Emily met and decided that they probably liked each other a whole lot. They did, in fact, stumble upon this conclusion at Robbi's and my wedding. It's like an improbable plot from a bad movie. And yet it's true.

Posted by bogenamp at 11:06 PM

November 07, 2008

Breaking News!

Robbi has just posted to her blog Idiots'Box for the first time since May! You may read her entry here. Or if you are too busy right now, be sure to check in sometime between now and April, when she will be making her next post.

Posted by bogenamp at 12:59 AM

Scooter Palin

Some of you may remember our good friend Supi Loco.

Some of you may remember the interesting photos her dad took.

And some may remember the great "Does Matthew more closely resemble Niles or Dwight" controversy spearheaded by Supi.

What you may not remember is that every late October Supi dresses her pal Scooter up for Halloween. Past highlights include "Trainwreck Britney Scooter" and "Hasidic Jew Scooter".

This year's costume did not disappoint: "Sarah Palin Scooter".

The similarity is uncanny.

Perhaps you recognize Scooter Palin's fetching pink shirt? Scroll down to the next entry. Yes, as is the case for the former VP candidate, Scooter's campaign clothing has been subsequently donated to the less fortunate. In this case, a small child struggling to make ends meet on the Eastern Shore of Maryland.

Posted by bogenamp at 12:29 AM

November 06, 2008

Meaning of Joy

What do these two things have in common?

Both brought me to tears (the good kind) in the last 24 hours.

And it's funny how much bearing the first might have on the fortunes of the latter. I wish Alden was old enough to understand what an important day this is. Though looking at that smile, I get the sense that she might have a pretty good idea.

Posted by bogenamp at 12:18 AM

October 22, 2008

Back in New England

We headed north the weekend before last to attend the wedding of our friends Dahna and Sarah.

They were married by a lake in Connecticut, and though we took I-95 north through Jersey, once across the George Washington Bridge, we veered from the loathsome Connecticut corridor of 95 onto a winding back road that felt like New England, even before we officially crossed the Connecticut line.

We caught up with old friends, including Kenny, who some of you might know.

Kenny officiated by the lakeside.

During the ceremony, Alden and Iris were relatively attentive.

We headed for the reception. Fortunately, Alden and Iris were seated at our table.

Unfortunately, so were Rich and Brian.

We have been getting bored with being Alden's parents lately. Fortunately, Christian and Emily have been feeling the same way about Iris. And so we switched.

At first it was great.

And then Robbi got all pouty and decided that she wanted her baby back.

When Alden was returned to us, I asked her to dance.

It was, I hope, the first of many.

While in Connecticut, we drove up to southern Massachusetts to visit with my brother, who was on a short leave from his Army training. We shared our traditional breakfast: half-pound rare cheeseburgers, milkshakes, and a platter of nachos supreme.

I love my brother.

On our way back south, we drove through Sheffield, Massachusetts, where we pulled off to see the covered bridge.

Since returning to the Barn, Robbi has been busy painting the illustrations for our next book.

Alden, meanwhile, has learned how to stand up against the side of her crib and rattle the bars like a rowdy prisoner. It's too bad for her that Robbi and I find it so endearing to see her howl.

Posted by bogenamp at 07:50 PM

October 20, 2008

Waiting for the Spring

I post tonight to bid farewell to the Red Sox's bid to repeat as World Series champions. For those of you who do not know or do not care, they were dispatched by the Tampa Bay Rays in tonight's game 7 of the American League Champion Series, falling just short of completing yet another epic comeback from the brink of ignoble elimination. Although I am obviously disappointed at the loss (and regretful for the many long, anxious, white-knuckled hours I spent watching them play over the past seven months when I could have been reading or sleeping or otherwise living a productive life), I must admit that along with the sadness comes no small degree of relief.

Watching playoff baseball is really hard on a person who cares. I'm ready to get back to living my life again.

Yes, it's time to turn my focus on the only contest that really matters, 15 days and counting. For those of you who don't know about Five Thirty Eight, it is an outstanding blog by a statistician who provides a daily analysis of polls and really insightful analysis of trends and happenings in the presidential and congressional races.

Apparently the author of Five Thirty Eight is a baseball statistician. Not long ago (on the Colbert Report, in fact), he suggested a statistical parallel between the Tampa Bay Rays' season and Barack Obama's campaign for the presidency--dark horse to win it all at the beginning of the race/season, but coming on strong as the finish line approaches. If the Red Sox losing tonight is an integral element of some cosmic statistical scheme that also results in an Obama victory, I'll take it.

Baseball, after all, is just a game. The rest of it is for Alden.

Posted by bogenamp at 01:06 AM

October 16, 2008

In His Defense...

I feel the need to interject, here. It's me, Robbi. Not Matthew. Yes, you haven't heard from me in a while because, well, I have better things to do with my time than twiddle my thumbs and write silly "blog" entries. But after seeing the photo in the last post, I was struck, as I often am, with how human people are. And how very sad, sometimes.

So, in defense of Senator McCain (and, to be honest, I don't often find him defensible), I would like to say that we all have moments when we don't know the cameras are clicking away, and are caught looking, well, like we feel inside. Now, Mr. McCain probably suffers this a lot more than I do, what with all the media constantly clicking away. But frankly, the media probably only takes a few hundred more photos a day than Matthew. So here are some shots that show us all at our not-so-best:

Mid-chew and mid-guitar hero:

Mid-nap (right, so this one crops up a lot):

Even my baby (who some people claim is cute) has her lesser moments:

And even my dog, who has the benefit of generations of good breeding on her side:

All this is to say, Mr. McCain, I'm sorry that that picture was taken. It makes you look less presidential, and, well, more like the rest of us. However, I think that we can all agree that you are steps ahead of this guy who will, thankfully, never be running for president:

Posted by ribbu at 04:24 PM

Defining Moment?

Here at the Barnstorming, we are seldom accused of having much to say about the world of politics. Indeed, one might argue that we dabble almost exclusively in the unimportant.

Further, our usual approach in conceiving of our books is to comment generally on the failings and foibles of humanity at large and not to take shots at a given individual, belief, or political entity.

However, I simply could not resist taking advantage of the opportunity that presented itself when a friend sent me the following photo in the wake of last night's debate.

I must admit I missed this particular moment as the debate unfolded. But here it is, and so what else is there to do but cringe and feel human?

Please consider this post not an endorsement of either candidate but an opportunity for all of us to share a moment of pointed empathy. Cameras are cruel observers.

Posted by bogenamp at 07:44 AM

October 14, 2008

A Minor War

We were in Lake George, NY a few weeks ago, visiting with Robbi's Aunt Mimi and getting away from it all for a few days. We were walking in an open field and suddenly came upon a row of tents.

We were intrigued, but also puzzled. We continued on. A few moments later, some Indians ran by.

Followed by a phalanx of Redcoats.

Puzzlement gave way to genuine concern.

A war broke out.

Alden was at a loss for words.

Without warning, she was captured by the enemy.

Who loaded her into a cannon.

But somehow she escaped and commandeered her own canon.

Though she seemed to lack a grasp of the fundamentals of its use.

After the war, we stopped by Robbi's grandma's grave to say hello and introduce Alden.

It is a beautiful cemetery.

There was a lovely sunset over the lake that night.

After loafing a while on my lap...

...Alden wrestled with the bearskin rug.

But eventually subdued it.

The next day, we took a hike up the mountain behind Robbi's family's house to Jabe's Pond, a place Robbi used to visit as a little girl when she was a "Chippy" at the YMCA camp at Silver Bay.

Living in Maryland, I miss the forests of New England and upstate New York.

We found some strange little pods that ejected puffs of spores when touched.

We saw a tiny orange salamander.

Toward which Alden made a rather unfriendly gesture.

At the pond, we waded and had some snacks.

Later that afternoon, we went down to Lake George and took a swim.

Note Alden's swanky one-piece, yet another gift from our friends Jose and Luciana.

After swimming, the ladies enjoyed the last rays of afternoon sun.

All weekend long, we worked on assembling a jigsaw puzzle. Robbi maintains a set of draconian rules that govern the assembly of said puzzles, one if which is that one must never look at the image on the box. This makes putting the puzzle together a lot harder.

But also, I must admit, a lot more gratifying once the thing is finally done.

If you've never been to Lake George, I recommend the trip. Just steer clear of the tourist-ridden Lake George Village at the south of the lake. Head north to Hague or Bolton Landing, or all the way to Ticonderoga, where Lake George meets Lake Champlain, and where the good people of Fort Ticonderoga occasionally stage a minor war.

Posted by bogenamp at 11:30 PM

October 06, 2008

California Coast

We have spent the weekend in Bethesda at the Small Press Expo, where we sold a bunch of books and talked to a lot of very interesting people. More on that to come.

I am headed to Baltimore early tomorrow morning, and so will just post a photo or two from our California trip before turning in. After the wedding, we spent a few days driving along the coast.

We stopped by the side of Route One along Tomales Bay, intrigued by this sign.

Alden tried very hard to eat my barbequed oysters.

And very much enjoyed her first dip in the Pacific.

The day was spectacular.

We stopped at the Point Reyes lighthouse.

We marveled at the whale skull.

We photographed the birds.

And the seals.

Apparently, the seals were hilarious.

We stopped at La Taqueria.

I enjoyed the burritos.

Alden enjoyed being the center of attention.

She was handed around for about 20 minutes.

Which left plenty of time for enjoying my dessert.

The next day, we drove south.

To Pebble Beach.

If anyone knows who created these wonderful little piles, please let me know.

We saw that iconic tree and, in spite of ourselves, felt compelled to take a photo.

We drove south past Monterey, where the coast gets hilly and curvy.

And even more spectacular.

We stopped at Pfeiffer Beach at Big Sur.

Where Alden enjoyed the sunshine.

On the way back through Montarey, we stopped at Point Lobos to see the cypresses.

Robbi (Kato Behr) found a gas station very much to her liking.

And then, miraculously, one that pleased her even more.

We drove back toward San Francisco as the sun set.

Of all the wonderful things we saw in California, perhaps my favorite was this, Alden's latest discovery.

In other news, she has just begun to crawl, a development that, while most exciting, is not easy to capture in a still photo. I invite you to stop by and have a look the next time you are on Queen Street.

Posted by bogenamp at 12:06 AM

September 29, 2008

San Francisco

Last Thursday we arrived in San Francisco. Promptly upon landing, we satisfied Alden's lifelong dream to see the Golden Gate Bridge.

She was mostly pleased, but mumbled something along the lines of, "I thought it would be bigger."

Robbi tried to cheer Alden by showing her Alcatraz through the viewfinder thing.

About which Alden mumbled something like, "Even a baby could break out of that place."

She is getting harder and harder to please. So I went for broke and attempted to jump over the bridge.

At which point Alden declared herself satisfied for the time being and content to go on with the rest of the vacation.

We had lunch at a Mexican diner. I gave Alden some guacamole which turned out to be a bit too spicy and got in trouble with Robbi.

It was worth it.

We kept driving north toward the Russian River, where Robbi's brother was to be wed. We saw a sign for Muir Woods. Robbi has always wanted to see the redwoods and so we decided to stop. The approach was a windy affair. I had to drive slow. California is not straight and flat and predictable like the Eastern Shore of Maryland.

But eventually we got there. As we entered the park, we came upon the First Amendment Area.

Both of us were compelled to seize upon the opportunity to speak our minds free from persecution, but neither of us could think of a worthy cause to promote or outrage to express. It was just too nice of a day. And they cleverly place the First Amendment Area out of view of the tallest redwoods. And so, desirous of seeing them, we continued on our way.

The redwoods are very old, apparently. One thousand years old, some of them. They are also tall. And grand. And rather awe-inspiring.

We walked around, filled with awe, struck silent by how small we felt.

The silence was enveloping, affirming. I felt the kind of peace I seldom experience in my busy life.

I was glad to be there among these ancient trees and was just saying to myself, "This is what vacations are all about," when Alden decided that the trees were not grand and affirming and worthy of awestruck silence. Instead, she decided the time had come to holler like the damned. We rushed back through Muir woods to our waiting rental car, trying our best not to disrupt the peace as our tiny baby shattered the reverential silence of other would-be vacationers.

After leaving Muir Woods, we followed our GPS onto Route 101, but found the road so clogged, that we asked the thing for another route. The alternative was Highway 1, which was longer and slower, but offered the prospects of less traffic. We chose wisely. Highway 1 is a preposterous road if you aim to drive straight and get there on time. But it is an excellent road for meandering north on the first day of a vacation. It twists and winds and follows the coast, offering breathtaking views and a tour of small towns you'd never see from the main highway.

We drove through the town of Tomales, for example, and found this building, which is apparently not a bank.

Arriving finally at our hotel on the Russian River, we settled in for a fine weekend of festivity, which did result in the marriage of Robbi's brother to my very fine new sister-in-law. Photos of all of this to come. Robbi, along with Maiko, was conscripted as wedding photographer and took 40 gigabytes of shots. I have neither the time nor energy to go through them right now. But I did meet some new family.

Here are my nieces-in-law,

Scarlett, Chloe, and Laramie

And my new friend Ryosuke.

He is Seiko's sister's grandson. I'm not sure how to describe his relationship to me, but we had a fine time playing catch, cars, and harmonica, so I don't really care.

Posted by bogenamp at 01:04 AM

September 23, 2008

Cover Girl

As those of you on the mailing list of the Williams Alumni Review must already know, one of Robbi's illustrations is featured on the cover of the current issue. This is American educator and theologian Mark Hopkins, in case you didn't immediately recognize him.

What's more, six more illustrations appear inside, all caricatures of people featured in an article on famous quotations by Williams alums (George Steinbrenner, Stephen Sondheim, and Jay McInerney among them).

The article will be online soon, and when it is, I will post the link. But for now, I wanted to shout from the rooftops about Robbi's first magazine cover.

Posted by bogenamp at 12:50 AM

September 21, 2008

Fat and Happy

The diet has ended and my stomach is full. If the scale is to be believed, I lost two pounds in the course of my long week of self-denial. Perhaps this disappointing result can be explained by the slightly premature breaking of the fast. Last night around 7:00pm, Robbi and I started fantasizing aloud about food, along the lines of, "If you could eat anything in the world right now, what would it be?" We traded visions of melted cheese, butter-soaked garlic bread, gooey brownies as our spirits fell knowing that another joyless evening stood between us and the promise of a morning free of dietary restrictions. One of us, I can't now remember which, brought up the fact that as adult humans with innate free will, we could, in fact, opt to call Pizza Hut immediately and order one of every item on the menu. One of us, I can't remember which, did just this. Both of us drove to said Hut, and when we arrived, Robbi remained in the car with the baby while I walked with great patience and restraint into the restaurant.

What did we order? I can't remember. Something light and low-calorie, so that we might ease back into "normal" eating gently.

We drove home, I think. It is all a blur to me now. Suddenly we were sitting on our couch. Food was on plates.

The smell of it enveloped me like a hug.

How could I not return the embrace?

For those of you who scoff at cardiac health, I wholly recommend Pizza Hut's new macaroni and cheese and bacon and cheese dish with garlic breadsticks, caesar salad, and chocolate-covered breadsticks with chocolate dipping sauce.

We ate without a trace of guilt. Afterward, we promptly passed out, even the baby.

Apropos of nothing, don't you wish that you could sleep like this?

The rest of the weekend was consumed with this and that.

We walked across the Chester River bridge to take Iggy to a nail-clipping clinic.

We spent some time looking in the mirror.

Today, we drove out to Kennedyville to take a walk through the cornfields.

We arrived to find that the corn had just been harvested. Most of it was loaded into the backs of trucks. But someone had left a pile of it right by the path.

Far across one of the fields, Iggy spotted a threat.

We went to investigate.

It was, as I suspected, a terrifying inflatable clown. At first, I tried to speak kindly to it.

But it tried to tell jokes and squirted me with its trick flower, which understandably made me unhappy. And so I took matters into my own hands.

Never let it be said that I'm afraid to punch a clown.

Or put a clown in a headlock.

Or hold a clown upside down by the foot.

Or give a clown a pile driver.

When the situation calls for action, I will even kick a clown.

He went up, up, up.

And did not come back down.

Iggy looked at me fondly, her eyes brimming with gratitude. We walked on.

Eventually we came to the cliff.

We walked down the path, past the bamboo patch.

And down to the beach.

Where Alden put her feet into the bay.

It was just that time of day when the light is right.

On our way back to the car, Iggy discovered an enormous mushroom, which she proceeded to corner and intimidate with a great deal of barking and raising of hackles.

She was feeling justifiably emboldened as we walked back through the corn fields. We were all feeling grand when suddenly, we saw it.

That damn clown was back for more. No longer willing to endure its torment and wanting my daughter and dog to know that I would and could protect them from this and any future clowns who might attempt to make us laugh, I took matters into my own hands.

It is my strong belief that I had I not prematurely ended the diet last night, I would not have had the strength to defeat the clown today.

And where then would we be?

Posted by bogenamp at 09:51 PM

September 18, 2008

The Morning After

Here's what greeted us at the break of dawn.

It's lovely to behold, this pile of peels. Unless you happen to have eaten eight bananas the day prior, one third of an unnatural medley that also included milk and vegetable soup. For me, the peels induced vivid flashbacks of dietary confusion, hours of unspecific longing, passages of bewilderment, angst, and darkest despair. In case you were thinking otherwise, milk, bananas, and soup does not a proper day of eating make.

At least, I thought, it couldn't get worse. At least today was the day of meat. The alluring prospect of 20 ounces of chicken, beef, or fish awaited me. Plus six tomatoes, at least one bowl of vegetable soup, and ten glasses of water.

I started the day with an 8-ounce chicken breast cooked on the Foreman grill and served cubed with cubed tomatoes. Delicious and a welcome change, but within 30 minutes I was hungry again.

Late morning, the UPS guy brought an added bonus to distract us from our grumbling stomachs.

In preparation for some serious hiking we are planning on doing with Alden in the months ahead, we purchased a Kelty kid pack. Alden slid right in and got happy.

After some morning meetings, we headed over to Bob and Seiko's house for lunch.

On the menu? Steak and tomatoes.

Alden and I took charge of the grill.

While the food cooked, Robbi got industrious and mowed the lawn.

I was not displeased when the time came to break my four-day monogamous relationship with vegetables and fruits.

Robbi, too, approached her first bite with great hopes.

But both of us admitted that something about the meal was not quite satisfying. The steak was good and the tomatoes were roasted to sweet perfection. But both of us craved a side dish of rice, a warm slice of bread, a bit of pasta salad on the side. I've always been a carbohydrate enthusiast, but the past five days have confirmed how much I rely on the sugars they provide for the bulk of my energy. I have felt depleted all week, and the large piece of steak I ate for lunch did nothing to help as the afternoon began.

I was in a low place, exhausted from calorie deprivation and weary with the prospects of two more days without my blessed carbs. Alden, feeling my pain, had a rage reaction, targeting a hapless bush.

Before we could stop her, she showed that bush who was boss.

We went back inside and I tried to get some work done. But I felt weak and shaky and couldn't concentrate. Eventually, recognizing that the sun was about to set, I decided that going outside would be more pleasant than stewing in abject self-pity at my desk. And so we walked along the water, talking amongst ourselves about anything and everything except soup.

Tomorrow is another day of meat, this time with veggies thrown in. The prospect is exhausting. And so I, like Alden in her great wisdom, am going to sleep.

Posted by bogenamp at 09:40 PM

September 17, 2008

Milk and Bananas

Never have I awoken more delighted at the prospect of eating a banana. The past three days have been horrible beyond compare. I feel a newfound respect for...or is it bafflement toward?...the diets of my vegetarian friends.

Robbi and I both felt awful all day. Weak, irritable, despondent.

Even Alden, who is nourished by the principles of trickle-down nutrition, was unhappy with the developments.

But happily, we have arrived at Day 4 of The Diet, which is described thus:

DAY 4: Bananas and skim milk--eat as many as 8 bananas and drink as many as 8 glasses of skim milk.

I was cheered to find bananas on my countertop this morning.

But on closer scrutiny, was unhappy with what I discovered.

Notice that there are but 15 bananas on my counter. The diet calls for each dieter to eat "as many as eight bananas," which to my way of thinking, means "no fewer than eight bananas." There are two adults participating in this diet. Now, I've never been a math whiz, it does seem to me that there is a fundamental problem brewing in that it is physically impossible for both Robbi and me to consume eight bananas when only 15 are available. I am so glad to be bigger and sneakier than she is.

Here is the rest of today's offering.

And, of course, as much soup as we can eat.

Ah vegetable soup, how I am tired of thee.

So here is the triumvirate of today's malaise.

Perhaps I'm not approaching this diet with the proper attitude?

Or perhaps this diet is bunk. My good friend David Turner who is somewhat a student of health and nutrition, has gently informed me that our current regimen falls into the category of "fad diet," appealing for its outlandishness, but otherwise unwholesome to our health, given its failure to provide a nutrient balance. Perhaps this is true, but halfway up this mighty hill, I refuse to give up before I reach tomorrow, with its glorious promise of twenty ounces of steak for breakfast.

Speaking of David, his Golden Girls/Election 2008 video has become an internet sensation (8,700 hits and counting). If you haven't watched it, you probably should. It's damn funny.

Posted by bogenamp at 09:20 AM

September 12, 2008

Bea Arthur for President

Here is my pal David Turner, star of the Broadway Stage.

Those of you who know David might associate him with the Golden Girls, and in particular, with Bea Arthur, the progenitor of his patented wry deadpan. He is able to easily summon Golden Girl zingers appropriate to any situation and can watch an episode of Golden Girls with the mute button on and speak the lines of each character in perfect time. I kid you not. I have seen him do it.

I tell you this as context for the following video. It may also help you to know that David is a filmmaker who has made several outstanding films (including a promotional documentary for ASTEP, a non-profit that brings arts education and art therapy to kids living in poverty), a feature-length film, and a number of not half-bad sock puppet dramas (The Baby and Getting Closer).

In any case, I will delay no more the matter at hand. David has taken a clip from a favorite episode of the Golden Girls and has made some interesting substitutions. I will let the video speak for itself, but I will tell you that it has a very timely subject. Watch it. It's hilarious. And only five minutes long.

In closing, I will tell you that David learned the hard way the full extent to which people associated him with the Golden Girls. On the day Estelle Getty died, he received dozens of consolatory emails from friends, family, and seemingly tangential acquaintances.

Lord knows what will come to pass when Bea herself kicks the bucket.

Posted by bogenamp at 10:58 PM

September 09, 2008

Bodies of Marvel, Monsters, and Women

Here is a heads-up to all of you in the DC metropolitan area. Robbi's work is appearing in a group show currently under way at H & F Fine Arts, a gallery in Mount Rainier, MD, just outside the D.C. line.

The show, titled Bodies of Marvel, Monsters, and Women, features the work of eight female artists, each of whom, according to the press release "explore ideas of the grotesque and otherworldly, the monstrous, the unimaginable, the uncanny, and the strange."

The show runs through September 28th. There was a really nice artist's reception with cheese and other appealing snacks on September 6th, but I forgot to let you know in time. Here's the press release, if you're interested.

Robbi's idea was to do a series of portraits that played on the idea that women who fall outside of society's strict definition of beauty and feminine propriety as relates to personal grooming decisions are viewed as circus freaks.

For example,

The Astonishing Plus Size

The Amazing A-Cup

The Great Unshaved

The Unpainted Lady

H and F is also the home of Robbi's enormous illustrated mural inspired by one of the pages in For the Love of God For those of you who missed the chronicling of its creation, you may go back to April of 2007. For those of you who don't want to go back to April of 2007, here are a few photos to give you an idea.

Robbi worked on this sucker around the clock for a few days.

By the end, she was beat.

But I think it turned out pretty well.

In any case, if you happen to be in Mount Rainier in the next few weeks or if you are merely motivated to go see some grotesque, otherworldly and monstrous things, swing by H&F. It's at 3311 Rhode Island Avenue. If you ask nicely, they may even give you some of the leftover cheese.

Posted by bogenamp at 11:24 PM

August 27, 2008

Local Pride

We were walking in the park the other day, as we often do. The park lacks public restrooms, but it does have a port-a-potty.

Since we only live two blocks from the park, we don't really use the port-a-potty. But we often admire it on account of its very clever slogan.

What imagination! What pizzazz! Who expects such confidence and pride from our friends in the waste removal business?

Way to go, Pierson's. May your comfort group live long and retain its sense of humor. When it comes to portable toilets, I'll always think of you first.

Posted by bogenamp at 12:28 AM

August 17, 2008

Over the Weekend

As she continues to grind through the illustrations for Volume 16, Robbi spent most of her weekend hunched industriously over her painting table. But we still managed to have a bit of fun here and there.

For example, Alden discovered her feet the other day.

A few minutes later, Robbi discovered hers.

Alden cooked dinner.

With a little help from her dad.

And then she did the dishes.

Alden and Robbi were unexpectedly awakened from a nap.

Alden sat in her little plastic eating chair for the first time.

Robbi told Alden a joke, which confounded her, initially.

But suddenly she got it, and all was well.

My brother Alex paid a visit.

It was his first time meeting Alden, who seemed to think highly of her uncle.

Last night, we went to a swanky wedding at a swanky estate.

My favorite part was the driveway.

They hung lanterns from the trees.

After paying our compliments to the blushing bride, our friend Katherine...

...we walked down to the water...

...and watched the sun set.

As midnight nears, Robbi is back to her brushes and I am off to wash the dishes, this time with no help from the baby, who had the nerve to fall asleep.

Posted by bogenamp at 11:40 PM

August 12, 2008

More Sock Puppets

Today I am angry with those who spam. It was the infernal spammers who flooded the Barnstorming's "comment" feature with such an astonishing volume of junk that we had to disable the comment feature altogether. My anger at the spammers has been acutely felt these past few days as I am terribly curious to know how the readership felt about the first installment of Sock Puppet Theatre. The tracker on YouTube suggests that to date 113 of you have taken the time to watch it, but the story it does not tell is whether or not you enjoyed the experience or whether the Sock Puppet Theatre has driven you from the Barnstorming forevermore.

Emboldened by the enthusiasm of those of you who took the time to email me with words of praise and enthusiasm for the sock puppets, I will share Episode Two with you now.

I apologize in advance for the various times in which I forget to move my puppet's mouth, for the various times in which David and I cannot control our "backstage" laughter. Episode Two is uneven at best, but I think at base it has an important message. I will leave it to you to determine what (if anything) there is to be learned from it.

And now, in a gesture that may well become a regular feature of these posts, I am happy to present a photo that has absolutely nothing to do with the general theme of the entry. Here I am at the Dead Sea in the West Bank a few winters back.

The mud was quite lovely and the water tasted not unlike battery acid. They told us not to drink it, but I couldn't help myself from trying just a bit. I mean, wouldn't you?

Posted by bogenamp at 12:12 AM

August 09, 2008

Another Prompt

Those of you who enjoyed Episode One of Sock Puppet Theatre may be disappointed to learn that Episode Two will not be broadcast today. Those of you who found the sock puppets off-putting and bizarre may be pleased to see a rather nice illustration by Robbi instead.

The other day, I sent Robbi the following prompt:

Jennifer turned ten and decided the time had come to really start living. "It's time to really start living," she wrote in her journal.

Later that day, she took out the atlas and marked all the places she would go. She ran out of ink.

To which Robbi responded:

We have spent the day dusting and sorting through books. It has been a demoralizing yet necessary endeavor.

As I often do on days like these, I thought of better times, specifically January 1 of 2005 when I woke on a deserted beach on Cumberland Island, Georgia, inspired to jump.

How lucky that Robbi was there to capture the moment. Here's hoping that viewing it now provides you even a tiny fraction of the pleasure it does me.

Some day I will no longer be able to jump like that. It's sad, but inevitable. Got to get that jumping in now.

Posted by bogenamp at 08:14 PM

August 07, 2008

Sock Puppet Theater

Our friend David Turner, star of the Broadway stage, has been in town visiting for the last few nights. There are certain standby activities to which we usually resort when we get together: playing Celebrities, playing Primary Representative Pictionary (the revolutionary three-person version of the popular parlour game), making "Primitive Beef" (glorified version of American Chop Suey) and eating it in gratuitous quantities, and making bad, strange movies that puzzle our mothers.

Last night, on the eve of David's departure, we had worked our way through almost every item on the list. But we hadn't yet made any bad movies. So we got out the video camera and tried to improv a decent scene. Fifteen minutes later, we had to admit to ourselves that it wasn't working. We were about to give up entirely when we had the idea to try our hand with sock puppets. An hour later we had completed three impromptu scenes, none of which is fit for prime time, but two of which I'll share with you anyway.

Here, without further ado, is Episode One of Sock Puppet Theater, The Baby.

Tune in tomorrow for Episode Two, Getting Closer.

Posted by bogenamp at 09:53 PM

August 01, 2008

What the...?!

It has been an illuminating day here on my sick bed.

Let me count the ways:

1) Reader Doug Plummer correctly solved yesterday's puzzler with "abstemiously." In addition to being a canny wordsmith, Doug is a fabulous photographer. Visit his site or blog.

2) Reader Brandy D. correctly solved yesterday's puzzler with "abstemiously" and with "facetiously", earning my utmost respect in the process.

3) In the course of the subsequent email exchange with Brandy D., in which I conveyed my utmost respect, I shared with her the fact that I harbor dark, unkind feelings about exclamation points. To which Brandy D. inquired about my opinions regarding the interrobang. Which made me take pause. The "interrowhat?!"

4) Which is precisely the point. The interrobang is an ingenious piece of punctuation invented by adman Martin K. Speckter in 1962 as a means of telegraphing a "surprised rhetorical question," obviating the need for the inelegant, inefficient "?!" or "?!?!?!?!?!" as the case may be.

Here is the interrobang. Isn't it lovely?

If anyone knows how to make my Mac keyboard type an interrobang, please let me know immediately.

As I contemplate ending this entry, I realize that I may well have succeeded in blogging about something other than Alden for the first time in four months. I find myself asking if I am ready for such a paradigm shift.

And yet the subject of interrobangs has no relevance to my young daughter.

Or does it?!

Posted by bogenamp at 03:53 PM

July 31, 2008

Correction

Congratulations to readers Virginia D and Peter E, both of whom wrote in today with a solution to Monday's puzzler that is actually one letter longer than the one I offered.

"Breastfeeders" is 13 letters long; "stewardessess" is only 12.

Reader Kate B offered "sweaterdresses" (14 words), but I suspect that some readers will question the legitimacy of this compound version of a word, which is often written "sweater dresses."

I trust that no longer words are out there, but if you discover one, by all means, let me know.

I have been sick as a dog for the last three days: fever, shakes, lack of appetite (this is how I really know I'm sick) and therefore not generating much in the way of worthy blog material.

And so I'll list the only other word-related puzzler I know.

What's the only word in the English language that contains all five vowels in the "correct order": A, E, I, O, U? A variant of the word can even end in "Y".

Here is a cute photo of a baby, to redeem the entry.

Posted by bogenamp at 10:48 PM

July 28, 2008

Puzzler

My friend David taught me an interesting fact yesterday. I'll pose it to you as a puzzle: what is the longest word in the English language that can be typed with just one hand, assuming one is employing proper typing technique (meaning, the "H" would not be typed with the left hand, for example)?

Clue: We saw many of them on our journey to Alaska.

Update: Robbi solved the puzzle in 45 seconds. There is a reason I've never liked her.

Posted by bogenamp at 09:09 PM

July 27, 2008

100 Buckets of Gravel

Almost without fail, July 4th marks the height of the red salmon run in Bristol Bay, Alaska. The week before is generally a daily build in the catch, and the weeks that follow are usually a gradual decline. The general curve held for this year's fishing. Our biggest day was a bit later than usual, and the "run" which some years means tens of thousands of pounds in one 24-hour period, never came with the force that yields a good harvest. Our overall catch was somewhat disappointing, but no one got hurt, the weather was mild, and Alden was not eaten by a bear. So I count it a successful summer.

Robbi and I stayed past the end of fishing this year to help Bob and Seiko pack up the compound. In addition to the usual chores, which I have described somewhat in earlier entries, we had, this year, the issue of the back deck of our cabin, and the fact that the winter freeze had caused frost heaves. Our deck was terribly uneven when Bob and Seiko arrived in May to set up camp. And so Bob dug enormous holes around the offending posts, that we might create a more stable mooring and thwart further heaves in future winters.

Bob in one of the holes.

How does one fill a big hole on the Alaskan tundra? Cement, you say. No sir. Up here, we use gravel. Which we have to harvest from the beach, shovel into buckets, load onto a cart, and haul up the hill with a four-wheeler.

Which does have a way of making one feel heroic.

But once up the hill, the work is not done. The gravel must be carried to the hole,

And poured in.

Bucket after bucket after bucket. Until finally, after many buckets, the holes are...

...nearly half full.

Being a not very mighty man, I could only haul twenty or so buckets in a day, and so the project stretched out across our final week. On the off days, I engaged in such pastimes as:

Introducing Alden to the pleasures of Dream Whip

Taking her for a number of rides on the tundra

Which I'm sure will make our pediatric social worker friend Veronica blanch.

But look at that smile, Veronica. See how much she likes it?

We hosted a gyoza (Japanese fried dumpling) party for some fellow fishermen.

They arrived in a very impressive car.

Which Alden politely requested to drive.

We made some smoked salmon (shown here drying (or glazing).

Here it is after five days in the smoke house, getting vacuum-packed for the trip home.

I taught Alden how to play Pinochle.

Correction: I taught Alden how to lose at Pinochle.

Turns out, I'm not much of a Pinochle player.

I spent three days in a state of stunning intestinal distress and, as a result, had to eat bread and water while everyone else ate extravagantly.

Watching lasagna being eaten by everyone but me was worse than my actual symptoms.

We monitored the activity of the grizzlies, who left ample evidence of their nightly gallivanting on our access road.

We found out that Alden is not yet ready to eat pickles.

I don't have photos of many of the more pedestrian things that occupied us that last week. Pulling in lines, cleaning and mending nets, changing oil and putting jacks on blocks, burning trash, and taking winter inventory of canned goods...these things are not photogenic. Not captivating blog-fodder like...photos of gravel.

I kept at it, bucket after five-gallon bucket, and as I poured the gravel from bucket 100, the final hole was filled.

I might actually have stopped at bucket 99, but why deny myself the poetry of the even hundred?

Iggy tried to take all the credit.

It rained for most of our last week on the tundra, and as many of the tasks at hand must be done outside, we kept playing Pinochle at my expense, waiting for a nice day. Finally, on the evening of our next to last full day we were growing desperate for some sunshine. Seiko took decisive action.

She summoned up this little dude (Teru Teru Bozu), a fellow who, according to Japanese lore, has the power to influence the weather.

Seiko sang a song to remind the Bozu of the terms of the deal: if the following day is sunny, the Bozu gets silver bells and sweet treats. If, on the other hand, it rains, the Bozu's head gets cut off.

And lo!

The next day there was sun.

We briefly debated whether or not to keep the silver bell for ourselves, but decided that it was wise to stay on the Bozu's good side, in case we had to call on him again.

The clear skies lasted most of the day, enabling us to finish most of our chores and even enjoy the sunset.

And the late afternoon sun on the stained glass window I made for Seiko's birthday a few years back.

And another, made by a friend of Maiko's, depicting the famous "run."

After nearly 40 hours of traveling, we finally made it home to Chestertown, relieved to be home and ready for bed, but not before attending to a few matters of personal grooming.

It's good to be back, but there is no time to rest. Volume 16 looms, hovering like a threat in the humid air of late July.

Posted by bogenamp at 10:51 PM

July 25, 2008

Heading Home

We are sitting once again with dog and baby and assorted bags and infant accessories in the baggage claim of the Anchorage airport. Waiting once again for hours upon hours for the departure of the plane that will take us from here to there. This time our destination is home, and though we leave the tundra with some wistfulness, we happily anticipate the return to our barn, in spite of the insulting wet heat that is waiting to receive us.

We had a quietly uneventful week, one that will be better documented in a day or two when I'm feeling a bit less bleary. I was awoken before dawn by Bob, who had a full slate of projects for us to accomplish before the bush plane arrived to pick us up at 8:00. We disconnected propane lines, winterized the plumbing, boarded up the windows, and packed up the coolers of fish.

I leave you for now with a photo that really works best out of context.

Alden is growing peevish, and so we are off to see the grizzly bears, the ones mounted safely behind glass, and the rare, majestic albino beaver.

We'll be back to the barn by dinnertime tomorrow, if you want to send flowers...or a powerful hose.

Posted by bogenamp at 10:14 PM

July 18, 2008

Packing Up

I have been unable to get online for days, and now that I have once again found the elusive signal, I have learned that this will be my last chance to post from the beach at Coffee Point as the folks who generously let me steal their signal are packing up shop tomorrow noontime.

I am happy to report that the fishing is done for the year. We are in the process of pulling the ropes and washing the pulleys, putting the trucks on blocks, storing all the food inside the bearproof metal shipping container, readying the skiff to survive the winter storms, boarding up the windows, washing all the rain gear, and making long lists of supplies to ship up on the barge for next year.

We've been doing our best to steer clear of grizzlies, actual ones, which have been prowling the premises with increasing frequency of late. Poor Bob came out of the outhouse the other day only to surprise a bear coming out of the alders about 20 feet away. Neither Bob nor the bear were particularly interested in spending much time in the company of the other, and neither lingered long contemplating the situation, Bob scurrying quickly back to our cabin and the bear hurrying back into the thick of the alders, where bears are more welcome.

Still, fresh tracks lace our driveway every morning. As we come and go throughout the compound we shout or sing to remind the bears that we are coming.

And speaking of bears, Marcy of the rottweiler/grizzly controversy, has returned to Chestertown and has emailed me the following photo as evidence to support her case. The footprints in question are, indeed, those of a grizzly bear. Marcy contends that they are the prints of the beast that startled her and Alden while walking that fateful day. I turn the matter once again to the court of public opinion.

I will post more stories and photos when we return, and may even post a movie of the extraordinary explosions we witnessed the other night when veteran fisherman and demolitions expert Pyro Dave detonated 8 cardboard boxes full of dynamite and 10 buckets filled with gasoline. It was loud. And bright. And riveting. Not much happens up here, so things that blow up are prime time entertainment.

For now, I leave you with a photo of my child, posed, per her grandmother's request, to imitate the pose of the Sumo Soap Seiko got for her birthday. I think the likeness is uncanny. Perhaps we have discovered the child's calling.

Check in again on Friday night when I will post from the airport at Anchorage. We have an 18 hour layover to endure.

Posted by ribbu at 08:27 PM

July 08, 2008

The King and I

There are various types of salmon. The one we're after, commercially speaking, is the red, or sockeye salmon.

Our nets are gauged to fit neatly around the gills of your average sockeye, which weighs in around 6 pounds.

Occasionally, however, other kinds of fish find their way into our nets. Most frequently we snag unwanted flounder, in all likelihood the ugliest fish known to man.

Other times, we catch a kind of trout called the Dolly Varden.

The worst is when we snag the horrible, terrifying Irish Lord. I have had nightmares about the little bastards and their ugly, spiny faces.

When I see one in the net, I leave him there and pretend that the net is clean. This way, when Robbi next goes out to check the net, removing the Irish Lord will be her responsibility. She is the veteran, after all.

Our favorite accidental catch by far is the King Salmon, large, lumbering, and full of delicious fatty meat. He is large but sluggish. Moving his massive body up the river system has so tired him that he hits our nets and collapses with exhaustion, sometimes snagged only by a tooth. Such a beast found its way into our nets today. Here he is, for your enjoyment.