The Joys Of Homeownership: Heat Doesn't Rise

If only we knew then what we know now. Count me among the legions of homeowners who have said that countless times. We moved into our house in June 2008. Before then, we were apartment, then condo, people. I have documented before how I am not handy. So having a landlord and then a management company to take care of things was heaven.

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My March-October Bromance

"All summer long, we sang a song and strolled on golden sand. Two sweethearts, and the summer wind." -Frank Sinatra

The days are getting shorter. The air is getting colder. And once again, my days of wearing cargo shorts are over.

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THE PEANUT GALLERY: Reaching New Heights

I am a feet-on-the-ground kind of guy. But when faced with a death-defying stunt that would force me to push my limits, overcome my fears, and teach my daughter something all at once, I was all-in. Ok I admit, I was a little in. You see, I am not one to back down from a challenge. So I'd be lying if I said this story doesn't start with some good-old fashioned hubris and machismo.

My Director, Peanut, and I spent  a long weekend in Lake George, NY with two other families over Columbus Day. One of the days we spent at Fright Fest at an amusement park called The Great Escape. Fright Fest is appropriate because after a few rides with the kids I found myself face to face with this:

Zoiks

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I'll Pick Nothing and Like It

"Millions saw the apple fall, but Newton was the one who asked why." -Bernard Baruch

What's the big idea?
(This guy was on to something.)

What is it about this time of year that turns parents into gluttons for punishment? Maybe it's the need to squeeze every last ounce of outdoor activity out of the beautiful autumn weather before the relentless chill of winter descends. Maybe it's the lure of deliciously picked fruit to serve as healthy snacks and turn into scrumptious desserts. And maybe, just maybe, we're under the delusion that as soon as summer ends, our house absolutely must be decorated with pumpkins this very second. What other reason do we have for wasting a perfectly good Sunday afternoon picking apples or pumpkins or - for heaven's sake - both?

My Director and I gave up this trivial pursuit a long time ago. It sounds good on paper. It even looks good on paper, or in pictures. But in all honesty, it's not nearly as much fun as we think it's going to be. And all we really want is a cute picture of our child with a pumpkin. You know it. I know it. So we should stop doing this to ourselves. 

First of all, you're never going to get good weather. If you get a perfect fall day, play the lottery because you're on a lucky streak. Chances are it's going to be so hot that it feels more like summer. But you're dressed for fall anyway (for the pictures), sweating your a$$ of in jeans and a sweatshirt. If it's not hot, it's muddy because it recently rained. The weather makes dressing for this adventure an adventure in and of itself. It's bad enough I never know which wardrobe combo to go with this time of year: cargo-shorts/long-sleeve t-shirt or jeans/short sleeve t-shirt? And footwear? It could range from boots to sneakers to flip flops. I love autumn but sometimes the wardrobe anxiety makes me yearn for winter just so I can put on a coat and be done with it.

Vehicle required to take your family "picking."

No matter what you wear, you're going to feel filthy from sweat or actually be filthy from mud. If it is muddy, you're definitely getting your minivan stuck in someone else's tire track trench slop when you park. That will force you to call one or two of the strapping young farmboys on the payroll to help you push your swagger wagon free. This will make you feel less manly because a) you drive a minivan and b) you're unable to navigate it out of a tire track mud trench. 

In between docking and freeing your minivan from the slop, you're waiting for a glorified tractor-pulling-a-flatbed that they have the nerve to call a "hayride" because they throw some bales of hay on there for you to sit on. You can't hear a word your child is saying because the tractor engine is humming so loudly you're sure you're never going to hear properly again. Yet you know whatever she is trying to tell you is life-altering because she hasn't spoken until that point. You see, she's decided to mask her enthusiasm about this supposedly pleasurable endeavor. Either that or she just knows.

This is a pumpkin dumping ground, not a "patch."

You arrive at the pumpkin patch only to realize what you knew all along: there is no pumpkin patch. This isn't where they grow pumpkins. It's a field where they dump a bunch of pumpkins for you to pick. They bring the pumpkins out here on the same deafening tractor-flatbed that you just paid $10 a head to ride out here. And they overcharge you for the pumpkin too. Maybe your miserable little angel realizes this as well because she suddenly decides to be uncooperative. She's tired. She's hungry. She's hot. (Because the weather never cooperates.) She doesn't want to get messy. She not only refuses to smile for a picture, but she is throwing the godfather of all hissyfits in the middle of the pumpkin patch Superfund site:

Ok I'll come clean: This may have scarred me for life.

You finally have your apples or pumpkins or both and you're so exhausted and filthy you can't imagine having enough energy to carry all of this crap that's going to spoil before you get it back to the car. You realize at that point that you have so many apples and pumpkins and they took so much physical and emotional effort to pick that you'll never eat another apple or carve another pumpkin as long as you live. The line for the fake non-hayride tractor-pull back to the parking mud pit is 3/4 of a mile long and you're behind the two kids who are fighting with each other and the two dads who are paying no attention to them because they're checking their fantasy football scores. That's another thing: I'm missing a day of football for this. Just because my favorite team is on a bye doesn't mean I don't have football to watch. It's appointment television no matter who's playing.

Do yourself and your family a favor. Just go to your local farm store or garden store and buy some pumpkins and apples without all of the production and drama and be done with it. Spend quality time with your family some other way. Buying pumpkins retail and watching football at home.  Get your picture on the front porch and be done with it. How do you like THOSE apples?

To read the full story behind the Peanut-crying-in-the-pumpkin-patch photo, and why I'll never go "picking" again, click here. 

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THE PEANUT GALLERY: S'mores Surprise

Yesterday I left work an hour earlier than usual knowing I would be solo with the Peanut for the evening. My wife had her once-a-month rendezvous with her friends in the city. (That is not a euphemism. She actually meets friends for dinner once a month.)

So I sat at home relaxing for a few minutes after walking Luna and before going to get the Peanut at daycare. I mapped out our evening. Since I was getting her early, we'd have time for something fun. But what?

Well, I love the fall. I love the sports and activities the temperatures allow us to do. I love long-sleeve t-shirts and roll neck sweaters. I love the fire pit.

That's it... S'mores. Who doesn't love S'mores? So that's what Peanut and I did after dinner. She was ecstatic when I told her in the car ride home. And was a good girl for me all night because she knew this was her reward:


We always keep these supplies stocked

It's scary how good I am at starting fires

She's a pro already

"Daddy I love it so much I have to taste it." 

A handful of awesome

Nomnomnom

When we were done and it was time to go inside and get ready for bed, she asked, "Daddy can we do it again tomorrow when mommy's here?" Absolutely. Fall rules.

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