that it was

I learned this morning that my grandmother had a stroke, and that she was in the ICU, and that it was one of those situations that it was important to see her right away, just in case.

When I saw her, it was as if I was not seeing her; she looked like her worst prognosis, and yet when I held her hand—her one working hand—she spun my wedding band on my finger and looked at me with her intense blue eyes.

Let’s just say that I thought she was trying to tell me something, and the message was loud and clear.

Week 150 Pictures

This week's pictures are ready for viewing here.

Your picture of the week:

She's a guppy

Reilly has been taking swimming lessons with a local woman who does intensive ten minute sessions five days a week for four to six weeks. I was skeptical about this style of learning, and after two days of Reilly crying for ten minutes straight, we were all wondering if this was the right thing for her. Then, on day three, she just started swimming--just like that--and now we can't get her to take her bathing suit off.

Gorilla Pod

For father's day, Shawn bought me an accessory for our camera. It is called a Gorilla Pod, and is basically a more flexible version of a tripod.

It comes in handy when you want to take a timed shot, or a slow shutter speed shot, or if you want to look really cool in front of other people.

My, how far we've come

While we lived in The City, there was a time that I watched Reilly two days a week as a Mr. Mom type fellow, and on those days, when I needed to take a shower, I would load Reilly up in her Exersaucer, put on some Barney, and head to the head.

Reilly loved that Exersaucer, and so did I, so it was of no surprise when she asked to be put in her little friend Lila's Exersaucer while we were over visiting her this past weekend.

From the picture above, one would think that Reilly is still a little tot, that she is merely a sprite, a small child who still endearingly fits into the small plastic business centers designed for toddlers and parents alike--but then you would be mistaken, for the shot above is only from the waist up, whereas the photo below tells the true story:

Boo!

On Friday we went out to eat pizza with our friends Kristi, Cassius, and their son, Max (who spent the whole time playing video games with Reilly sans quarters).

After dinner, we asked Reilly if she had fun with Max, and she nodded her head, and then exclaimed, “We played the ghost game!”

It took Shawn and me a second to figure out that the game she was referring to was Pac Man.

Week 149-150 Pictures

Another batch of photos has been uploaded to Smugmug. Click here to view. Below are your pictures of the week:

Photo Assignment #15

This week's assignment from Minna's blog was to simply post your favorite photo. Tough assignment. I've decided to post two photos, both of which would have satisfied the earlier assignments of "self-portrait" and "backlighting."

Without further ado:
An oldie:

A goodie:

Swimming Lessons

Reilly is taking swimming lessons this week, and so far, she has performed admirably.

I vaguely recall my own swimming lessons, a fuzzy image of the pool, of a woman instructor, of water.

What is more clear is how knowing to swim saved my life, at age 5, when a young friend who was angry pushed me into her pool—I’m sure without considering the consequences—and I was able to swim to the steps and pull myself from the water.

Time for a wax

While in the pool yesterday afternoon, Reilly jumped in and grabbed onto me in a gentle embrace. She pulled back, staring intently at my chest, and then tried to pull a hair off my skin with her intent little fingers, saying, “Daddy, you have Leia’s hair on you.”

Leia is our dog.

Happy Father's Day!

_ _ _ ck off

"Okay, Reilly, when Dora is over it is your bath time."

"Snack off, Daddy!"

(Anyone want to claim this one?)

-sht

I spent the last couple of days at a conference, and at that conference I heard a presentation presented by a woman who had a speech pattern so unusual that I figured I’d put it on this here blog.

The woman pronounced the word “most” like “mowsht.”

I’m not trying to make fun of her, especially if this is a result of a speech impediment, but it came off as some sort of regional pronunciation, except I don’t know of any region that adds a consonant between the ‘s’ and ‘t’ of a word, and also—she didn’t add the letter ‘h’ in words such as “blasting” and “yesterday,” which made this mispronunciation all the more strange.

From the mouse's mouth

Today I got to hear Abigail Disney give the keynote speech at the Planet Philanthropy Conference. She said a few things in her speech on the nature of privilege that really struck me, but none more so than this: “I am to America what America is to the world.”

She deconstructed the concept of privilege all the way down to who goes to bed with their shoes on versus those who don’t, and her speech was so profound and moving that it got a spontaneous standing ovation from the crowd, and honestly, when was the last time you saw that happen (State of the Union speeches not included)?

You WHAT?

Yesterday, Reilly kept saying what I thought was “You bitch!”

After some deciphering over the course of the day, I determined that she was actually saying, “You betcha!”

Now, who she got that saying from is another mystery—anyone care to claim it?

Week 147 Pictures

A photo taken before I locked my keys in my car. The expressions would change later.



For more, click here.

The day that OCD let me down

Today, after a nice canoe trip through Ft. DeSoto’s mangrove trails and the ensuing hour playing on the beach, I told Shawn that I would pack up half of our stuff and make the first trip back to the car.

After loading various fishing rods and beach chairs into the trunk, and at about the point that the lock clicked securely shut closed, I realized that I had just locked the keys in the car.

It is hard to describe the feeling that one gets when this happens—I think it is one of those things that if you’ve done it, you know—but at once my body filled with adrenaline, my instinctual bad mouth said “SHIT!”, and my philosophical side thought, The keys are in there. They are not in there.

Santa, you're next

For all those who were wondering, Reilly’s favorite food is Cheetos. I know all of you out there are flipping out to hear this, that granola-crunchy-nutrition freaks Shawn and Brian are feeding their kid puffed and fully processed corn snacks with a side of artificial coloring, but FEAR NOT, people. We have actually convinced Reilly that low-fat Cheez-Its are Cheetos, and until the day that someone gives her a real bag of Cheetos and she realizes that her parents are lying and that maybe the Tooth Fairy isn’t real after all, that is the way it is going to be.

Perhaps she took me a bit too literally

This morning, Reilly told me that she wanted to turn on the light in the pantry, and I offered to pick her up to reach the cord, but she insisted that if she had a chair to stand on, that she could pull the cord herself.

I tried to explain to her that she would not be tall enough to reach the cord—even with the chair—but my daughter likes to learn through her own experiences, so she climbed up on the chair and put her hand out for the cord but was woefully short of reaching it, which caused her to lament, “Daddy, I need to grow faster!”

I told her not to worry, that she was growing at this very moment, and she looked down at her feet to verify my claim.

Photo Assignment #13

This week's assignment was to do a self-portrait. Self-portraits are an aspect of photography that I have never taken seriously, and yet, when I went back into the archives to look for samples, I had plenty. Below, I'll post two self-portraits, one serious, one obnoxious, and I like to juxtapose them because it shows two opposing sides of my personality.

I think that the key to a good self-portrait is finding a way to define yourself in one shot, one frame of your likeness that sums up the whole person. I'm hoping to take some photos through Saturday in an attempt to find that person, but I know it's a long trip uphill to do so.

In the meantime, here is "pre-black tie dinner Brian," and The Inspector:

Oh, so that’s what time it is

I didn’t know what time it was when she first started yelling, but it was dark, so I knew it was very late or very early, and in this confused state of mind, I got out of bed and stumbled to Reilly’s crib, where she was crying that she had a boo-boo on her toe and that she needed a Band-Aid.

I carried Reilly to the bathroom and then to our operating table—I mean, BED—where Shawn, who was also awake, took the Band-Aid and peeled it open, causing the wrapper to emit two blue streaks of static electricity.

She said something along the lines of, Wow, did you see that? and I said something along the lines of, Yeah, I’ve seen that before—it’s static electricity, to which she replied, The things you learn at 4:00 in the morning.

Give me uh…

This morning I decided to take I-275 to work, which really meant that I decided to give myself an automobile enema. As I was coming over the Howard Frankland Bridge, the person in front of me, in the left lane—mind you, was traveling at a fairly good rate of speed, which would have been fine, except he (yes, it was a “he”) would tap his brakes for no discernable reason every thirty seconds or so. This reminded me of a saying that I think my Uncle Peter mentioned once (though perhaps it was his son, Mike): “If you know how to drive, you should never have to use your brakes on the Interstate.”

Great Explode-ations

On Friday I took Reilly to Great Explorations, a local children’s museum. Reilly loves “GreatEx” so much that when I told her that we were going her smile nearly broke her jaw, and that thrilled expression remained fixed on her face for about 90 minutes, at which point I told her that it was time to return home.

Reilly turns three in a month, but it feels like she’s three already, and that was clearly apparent in her ability to defy me, to physically and mentally fight me when we tried to leave GreatEx, and to raise a scene so embarrassing and so powerful in its mirth that I was actually paralyzed and afraid.

Imaginary argument

Reilly's imagination has expanded exponentially of late, and she invites me to join her in those made-up worlds; to have imaginary tea--to pet an invisible kitty.

Yesterday we pretended to grocery shop together, and after purchasing our groceries we sat down at a table to eat.

I decided to have some grapes, but apparently they were not my grapes because Reilly raised up her voice that I should put them back, and I smiled about the deliciousness of it all, to be arguing over imaginary fruit.

Week 146 Pictures

It was a short week for taking photos, but I did manage to capture a dozen or so. Below is a photo of Reilly playing with chalk in the sprinklers. For more, click here.