I could not be happier with the fact that there is a new donut shop in my little town. Some might say, “do we need a fourth donut shop in this town?” And my response is this, “Yes. Yes, we do.” And here’s why. I love donuts. So much, in fact, that my business card reads, “painter. donut eater”. No joke. Here, I’ll show you.
Of course, I do have to admit that four is a bit excessive, but the reason I say we need a new donut shop is because the other three aren’t doing it right.
I’ve lived in Paso Robles since the summer of 2013 and have been tolerating the donuts this town has to offer the entire time. In a way, donuts are like pizza. They are both round and it’s pretty hard to find one that I don’t like. That being said, I still haven’t LOVED any donuts I’ve come across in this town. It got to the point where to satisfy my morning sweet tooth I started going to the little Mexican Market down the street to get concha’s, which are those deliciously tasty sweet breads most people simply refer to as “Mexican Bread”.
They were pretty satisfying and I can’t think of a time where I ever came across a concha I didn’t like. But, alas, it still wasn’t a donut. When that phased out I really digressed and found myself at a local gas station buying Hostess Cupcake’s before going to work. Talk about a low point.
Twisted And Glazed opens their door and hits the scene with these!
You’re looking at an animal cracker donut and a S’mores donut. That’s right, a mutha fucking S’mores donut!
This is a not another food or restaurant review blog, so I’ll just end this by saying I’m extremely happy that there is FINALLY a good donut shop in town.
Posted on 21 Aug 2016 - 4:05 am | by jeff | Filed under: Writing
(One of several CCS envelopes I’ve drawn on.)
Working at CCS was awesome. I worked there from the Spring of 1996 to the Summer of 2000. In that time I literally made 100’s of drawings. If I had to try to make an accurate count of how many drawings I made in those four years I’d say it was close to 1500, at least, and there is no way I could have logged in that much time drawing if it wasn’t for my job at CCS. It got to the point where I would bring a giant portfolio to work that could hold 18″ x 24″ pads of paper. I would pull up an empty chair next to my desk, lay the giant pad of paper on it and work on BIG drawings. Sometimes I would even bring in a set of watercolors and make little paintings at work. The only way to get good at something is to do it a lot. And the term “a lot” is actually a huge understatement. To get good at something, and I mean really good, you have to do it more than a lot. It has to be an obsessive compulsion. You have to work at it several hours a day and working at CCS gave me that opportunity. I also played countless games of chess, read a ton of books and made a lot of friends that I’m still friends with 16 years later. I have a small stack of these envelopes and I always love rediscovering them from time to time. They bring back a lot of good memories and remind me that opportunities can come out of really unexpected places. I did not know about the 10,000 hour rule back in those days and although I was obsessed with filling up sketchbook upon sketchbook I did not realize at the time what a great position I was in. I was totally logging in my 10,000 hours and I was lucky enough to be getting paid to do it. My job wasn’t to sit at a desk and draw all day. My job was to sell skateboards and help customers. (At the time, CCS was considered the largest mail order skateboard company on the planet.) The general rule was that as long as you answered the phone and sold as many Tom Penny Mushroom skateboards as you could, you were pretty much allowed to do whatever you wanted in between phone calls. So, in a way, I was getting paid to draw. The point is this. You might be in the middle of a great opportunity right now that you should be taking advantage of because you never know the impact it could have on you later in life. Four years after leaving CCS I opened my art gallery and selling my artwork has been my main source of income since then. If I hadn’t had the good fortune to work at a place where I could make 1,500+ drawings who knows where I’d be right now. I don’t know where I’d be, but one thing I’m certain of is that I’d be 1,500 pieces of art behind where I am now. And let me tell you, that is A LOT of practice I would have missed out on. I’m going to end with this. If there’s something you want to be good at, don’t waste your time not practicing it. Turn off Netflix, put your phone on airplane mode and get lost in the thing. Get really lost in it. It’s the only way you’ll ever find yourself.
Comments Off on So Many CCS Envelopes | Tags: life
First off, carrying a phone in your pocket is such an incredibly ridiculous luxury that’s become so commonplace we totally forget how silly the concept is. To make a complaint about a luxury that is so removed from the list of things we need to survive is totally asinine. With that said, let me be a foolish baboon and complain about this iPhone situation.
I have an iPhone 4s. It’s great, but I was totally fine with my 4…until I dropped it. The iPhone 4 was my first smart phone and my mom gave me her old 4s when my phone shattered to bits. Thanks, mom! When the 6 came out I thought it was way too big for my liking and the 6 Plus made me laugh out loud when I finally saw one in person. I know a lot of people love their 6 Plus and that’s great. It’s just not for me and I’ll tell you why. I carry so much shit in my pockets that Coral and my sister are both convinced I should carry a man purse like Zach Galifianakis in The Hangover. So…
you can imagine my delight when I found out about the new 4″ iPhone SE. It’s like Apple read my mind, which is amazing. And here’s where my complaint comes in. I was looking at the specs and came across this list of included apps.
That’s a lot of apps and you can’t delete them, which makes me so mad. There are 33 of them. On a 4″ phone that would take up two whole home screens worth of stuff. I know you can put all the apps you don’t use in their own cozy little folder, but if I mentioned that it would totally invalidate my argument and why would I want to do that. I’m trying to make a point here! So, out of the 33 apps that you get whether you want them or not I know I would only use 19 of them, which is being generous because a couple of those I would only use because they are on there. I would never be all, “I NEED A VOICE MEMO APP!” Not to mention, I need a health and stocks app as much as I need a pickle growing out of my forehead.
The thing that really gets my goat about this BS is that these phones aren’t cheap and to be forced to deal with so many superfluous apps taking up valuable screen and storage space is, for lack of a better term, messed up. For a company who’s design philosophy includes the “what can we remove” concept it’s just mind boggling that they’d put so much crap on a product.
End rant. Thank you for listening and let’s hope I don’t suffer a fiery demise for wasting so much time on something that doesn’t matter.
Did you see that SNL skit about the iPhone design flaws?
For some reason I was home alone on Saturday morning, which doesn’t happen often. I think I even slept in a little, which happens even less. These two things made for the beginning of a great day. It got even better when Coral texted that she was coming to pick me up. That sounds weird considering we live together, but it was exciting because normally when one of us comes home that is exactly what we do. We park the car and go in the house. This idea of getting picked up seemed so spontaneous. Romantic even. Visions of hot cocoa and chocolate chip croissants filled my head. Where could she be taking me, I wondered. Feeling like an excited little boy on his way to the candy store I grabbed my backpack and camera as I ran out the door. Whatever cute adventure she had in mind I wanted to document it.
This photo was taken in May 2015 and has absolutely nothing to do with this post, but since I’m writing about Coral I should really have a photo of her. Anyway…
I get in the car full of excitement and as she begins backing out of the driveway I ask where we’re going. She very naturally says, “Oh, we need to put gas in the car and I need you to pump the fuel because I don’t want to.”
I’ve been walking around in a lifeless zombie like state ever since. With a single solitary tear running down the side of my face.
Comments Off on Coral Totally Took The Wind Out Of My Sails | Tags: coral, family, wtf
I’ve been home from my NYC trip for ten days. That means I’ve been home longer than I was gone and I am finally getting around to editing my photos. I have a lot of video too that I would love to make a little movie out of, but I cringe at the thought of video editing. Let’s get started, shall we? Day one is mostly a travel day, but I sort of had a pre-travel night. I hit the road for Los Angeles around 8pm the night before my flight. My good friends, Justin and Cassidy, let me park my car at their house while I was gone and Justin even woke up at 5:30 in the morning to drive me to the airport. That’s a friend, people. With a boarding time of 7am I avoided an insane line at security. I’m not one that travels regularly, but I’ve heard people can be in these lines for over an hour or more and I got through in about 12 minutes.
Unfortunately, I was “randomly selected” for an anal cavity search. Just kidding, but a TSA dude did “randomly select” me to rub a cloth on my hand that he then took to his little booth and held under a light. I’m sure that my wearing dark glasses and a hoodie probably had nothing to do with it. I must have passed because I was able to avoid all unwanted searches of any of my body parts. Thanks, TSA!
This digital boarding pass made me feel super fancy, as if I’m the only bloke on the planet with an iPhone. For some reason airport personnel are not allowed to touch your phone, so I had to wave my phone under the little laser to get scanned, which means I did half of their job for them and didn’t even get paid for it. I would have gladly accepted a free upgrade to first class. Hint hint, Virgin America. When it came to booking a flight my first thought was Jet Blue. No good reason why except that I had flown with them once before and it was fine, but then I came across Virgin and thought it would be awesome to fly in something that looked like a nightclub.
And I was right, it was awesome. There were pole dancers and midgets doing magic tricks. It was amazing. Slightly less amazing was the in-air internet.
I have now since learned that if you “buy before you fly” you can get the 24 hour pass for $16, which is way better, but I’m not totally sure I can justify that since you can’t stream Netflix with the service. On the other hand, is not being on the internet for five or six hours really something to be concerned about? I was totally happy to sit back in my leather seat, relax and read without any interruptions. When you have a four year old reading a book is utterly impossible during the hours they are awake. I guess this is a good time to mention that this was a solo trip. Yes, Coral stayed home and took care of three kids while I went gallivanting around the big city. She’s awesome. Thanks, honey! She also got me this New York themed book to read on the plane.
I guess free meals on planes are a thing of the past.
This Chicken Sandwich looked pretty tasty, but I saved my $9. Also, $4 for Chex Mix…yikes. On the plus side, I was able to drink all the ginger ale I wanted for free, which was great. I’m a sucker for ginger.
Tracking the flight is always fun. There was a bunch of stuff you could do on the touchscreen, like rent movies, listen to music and even join a chatroom with other passengers. I started a chat and nobody responded for the entire flight, so as much fun as it sounded I remained alone and friendless in the sky. Here are a couple of mandatory “look at me, I’m in a plane and you’re not!” photos.
It’s always nice to land without exploding.
I did not make any plans on how to get from JFK to my hotel, so once I got off the plane I had to wing it. I trusted that the city would take care of me and it did. There is a plethora of options that don’t require any pre-booking. Subway, taxi, Uber and my personal favorite, helicopter. Yeah, for about $1000 you can catch a helicopter into Manhattan. How baller is that? Once I walked out of the airport I saw a sign for a shuttle that was only $16. Like I said, I don’t travel much, so the idea of a shuttle hadn’t even crossed my mind. When I saw Uber was going to cost something in the $60+ range I couldn’t get on that shuttle fast enough. Thanks for the awesome deal, GoAir Link! I ended up using them to get back to the airport too and that was cool because they came right to my hotel. For the drive into the city they have set drop off spots, which worked fine for me because my only luggage was a backpack. I hopped off the shuttle, found a Citi Bike and rode to my hotel.
I found this cool artsy “boutique” hotel called The Pod. They have two places in New York. Pod 39 and Pod 51. I stayed at Pod 51 and it was great.
Hotel room selfie.
Next time I go to New York though, I’d like to stay somewhere in the West Village or Chelsea area. I kept finding myself in those neighborhoods so it would be cool to not have to bike 30+ blocks to get there. The hotel was awesome though. Super clean, free wi-fi, awesome little lobby/lounge area (with a foosball table) and even an outside patio that proved to be a great escape from the craziness of the city. Since I opted out of the $9 chicken sandwich on the plane I was sufficiently starving by the time I checked into The Pod and was so stoked to find a Thai restaurant just a few doors away called Sukhumvit 51.
Check out that Thai iced tea! It comes in a fancy ceramic mug! Fanciness and exclamation points aside I do not like drinking out of straws so, although the ceramic mug was a nice touch, it wasn’t for me. The food and Thai tea were incredibly delicious. I had the Pad See Ew with beef and loved it so much that I ate there two more times before I left town. The plan was that it would also be my last NYC meal, but I got sidetracked and missed out. And when I say “sidetracked” what I mean is that I fell asleep and woke up after they closed on my last night.
Anyway, after dinner and unpacking and all that stuff I ventured out. There was a Citi Bike station two blocks from The Pod and I had already signed up for a 7 day pass, so I chose bike riding as my main mode of transportation. Here’s the deal with Citi-Bike. A 7 day pass is $25. The bikes are available 24 hours a day. Every time you get a bike from a station it’s yours for 30 minutes. If you go over the time limit you get charged a couple bucks, but with 330 locations it’s usually pretty easy to return your bike to a station within the 30 minute time frame. There were plenty of times I would park a bike and then just unlock it again and keep cruising. The system makes you wait 2 minutes before you can take another bike, so you have to sit and wait, but it’s not that big a deal since people watching is so much fun. So, I biked around with no destination in mind and ended up in Times Square, where I saw one of the creepiest things that has ever creeped.
When I saw Elmo I knew Elliott (my 4 year old) would love this, which I’m sure is something Elmo hears all the time when he poses with tourists. He might hear it all the time, but since he didn’t appear to speak English he may not know what we’re saying.
Eventually, I made it back to The Pod where I took an extremely long shower and passed out.
Seriously, this pumpkin thing has gotten out of control. If this overabundance of pumpkin spice everything is a precursor to the madness of what this year’s Black Friday will bring than, as a society, we are up pumpkin spice creek…without a paddle. Or a latte.
On the other hand, let’s just eat (pumpkin spice), drink (pumpkin spice) and be merry! If you shop at Trader Joe’s it is extremely easy to hop on the PS bandwagon. Personally, I don’t do the grocery shopping for my house because my contribution is to sit in the car and read instead of scrutinizing the price of everything that gets put in the shopping cart. It works out better for all parties involved. However, I do help unload the grocery bags once they’re in our kitchen and here are some of the seasonal items I noticed. Despite Coral and I making fun of the pumpkin spice craze she couldn’t seem to get enough of it.
I’ve never heard her say, “If you can’t beat em’, join em'”, but some things can go unspoken and there is that phrase about actions speaking louder than words. After I took that photo and put all the items back in the pantry I noticed we also had a box of pumpkin waffles in the freezer and in the fridge I found their cousin, a bag of pumpkin bagels. I contemplated redoing the photo, but talked myself out of it because I have bigger pumpkins to fry. I’ll pretend that joke works here. Anyway, Trader Joe’s isn’t the only one shoving delicious pumpkin flavored goods down our throats. Just loook at what the fine folks over at Durex have concocted.
Besides Durex there is a whole slew of companies pumpkin spicing up your life this season. Jamba Juice has their Pumpkin Smash smoothie. Starbucks is pumping out more Pumpkin Spice Latte’s than you can shake a stick at. Or throw a gourd at. Either way, it’s a lot of freakin’ latte’s. If you’re looking to get your pumpkin spice fix here are some things you can try out.
Still prefer the good ole’ fashioned chocolate kisses. Everybody does.
As if boxed wine wasn’t good enough already.
You know, after eating all of these goodies and washing them down with your box wine you’re going to need to brush those teeth and freshen up your gross pumpkin breath. What better way than with Pumpkin Spice Crest?
As if toothpaste wasn’t enough and if nobody poked a needle through your pumpkin spice condom then you might find yourself, if you’re a woman, picking up these the next time your “time” comes around.
Yeah, those are just wrong, but don’t fret because if the thought of the pumpkin spice tampon makes you sick to your stomach, we’ve got you covered.
Seriously, this could go on and on, but I should probably stop or else I’ll be writing and google image searching until the cows come home. Or at least until the Gingerbread Latte hits Starbucks this winter.
And yes, I’m totally sporting the pumpkin spice self tanner all month.
P.S. – There probably is a pumpkin spice self tanner out there for all the weirdos that want to walk around looking like Oompa Loompa’s.
P.P.S – Everything you find on the internet is real!!! Including this donation link, which will afford me all the Pumpkin Smash Smoothies I need to sooth this sore throat.
P.P.P.S. – I can’t believe it! Coral finally found a photo of me with my high school punk band from back in the day.
Posted on 30 Sep 2015 - 12:29 am | by jeff | Filed under: Writing
This morning I noticed a guy driving alone while wearing headphones. Of course, I’ve seen this dozens of times, but today it triggered the “is that really necessary” response in my brain. I’ll be honest, I love headphones as much as the next guy. Probably not as much as Del The Funky Homosapien, who has not been seen in public not wearing headphones since 1981*.
The thing is, aren’t the car speakers good enough? Also, you are alone. There are literally no distractions to keep you from your music or podcast or whatever you are listening to. Not to mention the fact that it is illegal to drive with headphones on. As a quick little aside: isn’t it awesome to literally have access to knowledge at our fingertips…and then not use it? Case in point, I don’t know if it’s illegal to drive with headphones on and I refuse to dedicate any of my precious time to find out. I mean, all it would take is a quick search on google. Anyway, let’s just say it is illegal to prove my point. What is my point? I don’t even know, but all of this headphone talk is leading me down the path to memory lane.
It was probably 1996 when I bought my first real pair of headphones. At the time they were THE headphones and even now I believe they are highly sought after. I’m talking about the Sony MDR-V600’s.
They were pretty much standard issue to every DJ that ever touched a vinyl record. Dropping $109 on a set of headphones seemed quite frivolous. Remember, this is 1996 I’m talking about. Nowadays you have teenagers walking around wearing $400 Dr. Dre Beats connected to a $300+ iPhone, which is absolutely crazy.
If the late 80’s saw dudes getting mugged/killed for a pair of Air Jordan’s it’s a miracle we don’t find ourselves zig zagging through piles of teenage corpses while walking down any sidewalk in America.
Those Sony MDR-V600’s treated me well. $109 is not so bad considering they lasted 18 years. They travelled with me across the country and even as far as Paris. They were strapped to my head when I lost my virginity. Just kidding, but wouldn’t that be hilarious if I was all, “look lady, I NEED music while this is happening.” They were with me, hugging my ears ever so lovingly, during 100’s of painting sessions and let me experience music the way music should be experienced. Well, that could be argued. Music should be experienced live, but through headphones is a close second. Yes, some of the padding in the ears was fully exposed and falling out (my 4 year old is at fault for that), but the true demise of the headphones happened when I dropped my ipad and the plug broke off inside the headphone jack. Please, hang your head in a moment of silence.
Ok, this was not intended to be a farewell to the headphones that were with me for more than half my life. I just wanted to make a little comment about how silly and dangerous it is to drive alone wearing headphones. I mean, afterall, it is illegal for a reason. Oh yeah, I also wanted to make what I thought was a funny reference about Del The Funky Homosapien. All this other stuff just sort of happened.
Speaking of other stuff…
This blog (me) is now accepting donations. We’ll say it’s to keep this blog alive, but between you and me it’s because I want one of these.
*Sadly, a google search for Del showed me that he actually has ventured out in public not wearing headphones. When I found out my heart broke a little bit.
I know it’s not much in comparison to google searching “nail in eye”, but it still was kind of an ordeal.
That little metal shard was stuck in my eye. It had been there for hours and I thought it was just dust from being on the ranch with my Dad yesterday. When I finally decided to investigate around 1am I was like, “WTF is that?!” I am one of those people that can not touch my eyeball. Is that a thing? Yes, it is. There are people out there that have no problem touching their eyeballs. I try to and my lid involuntarily closes faster than you can say, “I’ve got a finger in my eye.” So, I attempted several times to slide my finger over my eyeball in hopes of snagging the metal shard, but failed at every attempt. Then I tried to flush it out by keeping my eye open while dipping my face in a bowl of water. Fail. Back to eyeball touching. A couple of times I was able to hold my eyelid back and when I ran my finger over the shard I realized it was not just sitting on the surface of my eye, that bitch was STUCK in my eye. That’s when I panicked. Not a lot, but enough to know that I could not go to sleep with a shard of metal sticking in my eye. In fact, it wasn’t even a panic as much as it was one of those, “Shit…now I have to deal with this?” kind of sighs. Also, there was no way I was going to the emergency room for something that didn’t involve a bone poking out of my skin. That’s when I got the bright idea to perform self surgery with a pair of tweezers. After a couple of attempts I successfully grabbed that sonuvabitch and pulled it right out. Like most things stuck to your face it felt A LOT bigger than it actually was. All in all, it was a typical night in The Claassen House.
I could count on one hand the number of times I’ve been inside of a BevMo. The first time I was overwhelmed at the insane amount of alcohol they had. It didn’t stop there, I was also impressed with the selection of weird soda’s, root beer and ginger beers I had never heard of. The second time I went in there I was again overwhelmed, but not so much so that I didn’t walk out empty handed. I am not much of a drinker, *except for the Kahlua and milk I have every night before bed. Naturally, my first purchase was Kahlua, but because this was BevMo they offered Kahlua in flavors I had not even imagined. The one I chose was a French Vanilla flavor. With my first purchase at BevMo I was asked, as you often are at every freaking store, if I wanted to be part of their club. Since I have no friends I quickly said yes, daydreaming of all the club meetings and outings I’d be going on with my Kahlua drinking BevMo buddies. But alas, all I’ve gotten out of it are these offensive coupons.
$10 off, seriously? This coupon is offensive on so many levels. The phrase “$10 off” in bold lettering is somewhat enticing, but then you see that it only applies to wine purchases and after that you see that to receive the $10 off you have to spend $100. I’m no math expert, but that is only 10% off and giving people 10% off is such a joke I’d rather not be part of your dumb club. End rant.
Switching gears now…
Believe it or not I did a load of laundry last night and, like a little kid, I totally forgot to empty my pockets beforehand. When my kids clothes get washed you find gum wrappers, pennies, a pencil eraser and all sort of other little kid debris in the wash.
When I forget to empty my pockets you find super shiny screws and a quarter, which means I carry way more money than my kids.
So, let’s recap what we’ve learned. Club BevMo does not have Kahlua get togethers and their sales suck. And if you want shiny screws just throw them in the dirty clothes pile.
* I don’t really have Kahlua and milk every night before bed. Just every other night.
Comments Off on C’mon BevMo And Some Super Shiny Screws | Tags: bevmo, kahlua, screws
The title says “something I don’t understand”, but when it comes to James, I don’t understand any of it. I might be going a little too far by posting a photo of his underwear, but oh well. This kid kicks lazy up to a whole new level. Actually, kicking takes too much energy. This kid drops lazy to a whole new level. It’s literally been years of telling him to remove his belt from his pants before putting them in the wash. I didn’t even realize this was something I would ever have to tell another human being. The underwear intertwined in the pant legs is just a bonus for all of our viewing pleasure. Speaking of bonus, there was a Starbucks and Taco Bell gift card in his pocket. Which is now going in my pocket, cha-ching! I’ll admit, occasionally I forget something in my pockets and Coral fishes a screw or bent staple out of the washer, but I literally found the same Starbucks card in yesterday’s wash. I told James he forgot it in his pocket when I handed it to him just last night. You’d think that a Starbucks and a Taco Bell card would be like gold to a 14 year old, but James seems to dismiss it like yesterday’s dirty laundry. And today’s dirty laundry. Did that joke land? I’m not quite sure, but I’ll leave it.
Anyway, Here are a couple of “Jamestories” I’ve collected this month.
James: I don’t like peanuts/peanut butter or cashews or almonds.
Me: I don’t like cashews either. (In my head I’m thinking, “Awesome, father-son bonding over the hatred of cashews.)
Then Coral walked in and I said, proudly, “We don’t like cashews.”
James (to Coral and I): Do you know where cashews come from?
Me: They grow on a tree.*
James: No, they come from papayas.
Coral and I shared a look we often share with each other when James is being James.
Me: What are you doing in our room?
James: Using the mirror.
Me: Use the mirror in your room.
James: But I can’t see my socks in my mirror.
James: You wouldn’t understand.
And he walked out of the room. Kind of unrelated, but the next day he wore a Rasta shirt with matching Rasta earbuds. I should mention that I have never seen him wear earbuds to school before. And I should mention that he hasn’t worn them since. This is where the sock conversation comes into play. I know he has a pair of Rasta socks somewhere. I guess he just couldn’t find them in time to wear with the outfit he orchestrated for the day. This reminds me of one of my earlier posts from when James was 12. It’s called, “James Prefers Fashion Over Function” and, although I’m biased, it’s totally worth a read.
* As it turns out, cashews are very interesting in that they are actually a seed to the cashew apple. Personally, I think they’re kind of weird looking because the cashew nut is on the outside of the cashew apple. So yes, they do grow in a tree, but they are attached to a fruit. As much pleasure as it brings me to make fun of my kids, I have to say that in James’ defense, although the cashew does not come from a papaya, it does come from another fruit.
James really wants to pursue acting as a career. Unfortunately, we don’t live in Los Angeles, but we’re going to do what we can to help him. Coral’s working on a website for him and wants to start submitting head shots to agencies. And if that means impromptu trips to The City Of Angeles, so be it. We hired our longtime photographer friend, Richard Fusillo for James’ photo shoot and I tagged along taking some of my own photos while keeping Elliott away from the action.
Elliott stole mom’s camera and took his own “behind the scenes” photo.
After walking around downtown SLO for a couple of hours we drove down to Shell Beach. I wasn’t around for all of the SLO locations they shot at because I was keeping Elliott busy strolling him through the rough and tough streets of SLO.
A RARE SIGHTING…Coral in front of a camera! She’s so cute. She’s also very demanding. I don’t know how she talked James into getting into the water. And not just walking a few steps in the water, but getting fully immersed.
He’s such a good sport. Or he’s just straight up loco en la cabeza. Probably a little of both.
We are so lame. Yes, this is a photo of Coral and Richard both taking photos of James. If only Evelyn was with us, she could have stood back and taken a photo of me taking a photo of Coral and Richard taking a photo.
Typing that last sentence made my brain hurt.
Elliott was not too excited to be on the beach today. Last time we took him to the beach he was running, tripped and landed face first in the sandy water while fully dressed in jeans, sweatshirt, socks and shoes. This was on New Year’s Day, so the water was pretty cold. Needless to say, I carried him almost the entire time we were at the beach today.
Homeboy’s getting heavy and I had to set him down from time to time so my arms wouldn’t fall out of their sockets. As soon as I set him down he would start reaching for me, yelling, “Catch!”, which in Elliott language means, “Pick me up, dude!”
Daddy selfie. Fake smiling through the arm pain. Check out that ninja grip he has on my hoodie. He was making it very clear that there was no way I was setting him down again, which bummed me out because I really wanted to stack rocks. There were a couple of rock stacks where we were and they were beyond sad, standing at about 12 inches tall, if that. As soon as I saw them I was like, “I eat weak stacks like you for breakfast! I will murder you!” but I never got the chance to show off my skills thanks to Mr. Lead Butt Elliott.
Luckily, I managed to pawn him off on Coral for a couple of minutes. Not long enough to stack a pile of rocks, but long enough to get some of the feeling back in my arms.
Coral turned her phone away from James dunking himself in the freezing water long enough to catch Elliott and I heading back to the car.
When we got to the top of the stairs we ended up sitting on a bench to watch the sunset, which was quite spectacular.
And that’s how you spend a Sunday afternoon. I hope you all had a good weekend.
This photo doesn’t have anything to do with this post*, but I like it and have never posted it before because I am so awesome at procrastinating. Anyway…
Today, the first day of 2015, was spent at Cayucos Beach for the annual Polar Bear Dip. It’s also our oldest’s birthday so this has become his yearly tradition. He is 15 today and this marks his 10th year in a row as a Polar Bear Dipper. After the gazillion crazies emptied out of the surf Coral and I sat on the beach. We have yet to participate in the “freeze your genitals off” frenzy that so many others enjoy so much. Some day we’ll do it, but that day was not today. So, there we sat. Coral had just bought me an amazing pulled pork sandwich. As soon as I finished licking my fingers clean (because why waste a napkin, right?) she handed me the last half of her burrito scrambler thing-a-ma-bob which was also a culinary delight. At some point after I inhaled that treat I made a comment about being “well taken care of”. That one little comment sparked a whole train of thought in Coral’s brain and a few minutes later she said very definitively, “You ARE well taken care of.” I shook my head in agreement. After all, I had, just moments before, made the very same statement. She took it a step further, laughing as she said, “Look, you’re not even wearing anything that you bought for yourself.” Then she went down the whole list of what I was wearing while sitting there on the beach. “My dad gave you that hoodie. I bought you those pants, belt and socks. Your parents gave you those shoes last Christmas (as in Christmas 2013). I even got you the hat you’re wearing.” Proudly, I was able to prove that not everything I was wearing was given to me. I bought the T-shirt. As it turns out, Coral even bought the fancy polka-dot boxers I was wearing.
I am very thankful for being taken care of so well. It’s funny though, because my family knows me. I mean, they really know me. They know that for me to look somewhat presentable they need to step in otherwise I’ll be walking around with faded and torn jeans, a 4 year old hoodie worn down to the thickness of a piece of paper, a dirty misshapen hat and shoes with holes in them.
Here’s to another year of being a spoiled brat well taken care of.
HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!
* Come to think of it, the above photo totally relates to this post because Elliott is the next generation of being well taken care of. If I think I’m well taken care of it’s nothing compared to this kid. I mean, seriously, he doesn’t even wipe his own ass.