Hot & Tacky

Leave it to Seattleites to complain all Winter and Spring about the dreary weather. Then, when the sun does finally show up in earnest, to complain even more about how HOT it is.

Ok, so it only reached 90 degrees Fahrenheit here today, but when you feed that into a normal temperature conversion translator (such a device must exist in a back room of some government warehouse somewhere) it would feel something like 140 degrees to a resident of, say, Arizona or perhaps Southern California. It might even feel slightly uncomfortable to a resident of Hell, but I suppose that would be the point.

Despite the heat, we were out this morning visiting Gas Works Park in Seattle. Even at 10 AM it was already uncomfortable and crowded with work crews. Not what we had hoped for. I'm not sure but I suspect the heat had something to do with the fate of one unfortunate family, the remains of whom are only seen in the photo below.




Bizarre. But the oddities did not end there. As we rounded one hill I was immediately sickened and shocked at what I viewed. All I could think to say was "Dam You! Dam you all to Hell!!"



Yes, it was true. As much as I didn't want to believe it, it turns out Seattle did have a tacky underbelly. Proven by this rather enormous inflatable Statue of Liberty head over looking the park and the television platforms which were being erected to film the local Independence Day fireworks display.

In the end it was all just too hot, sticky, and "tacky" for our taste. We loaded up Lukas, kept a keen eye peeled out for any apes on horses (just in case) and made our way to the car to crank the AC and head home to find a cooler way to keep cool.

Happy 4th of July to all!

The Other Cheek

It took my lovely wife to remind me of one of the longest standing rules which I adhear to. Just another reason why I love her so.

I rarely, and by rarely I mean NEVER, get worked up. Yet there I was last night with an itchy trigger finger sitting on the publish button. I felt I had been wronged. No, I had been wronged and my blood was boiling. So, I grabbed my laptop and penned a beautiful post. Ok, truthfully it was well written, but certainly not beautiful. Topics such as what I was covering never are.

She chimed in. "Give it a day, Sweets. Think about why you want to publish this, and if you still feel like it is necessary tomorrow, let it fly. Just think of the example we, as parents, want to set for Lukas."

As much as I wanted to ignore her, it was obvious that she was right. No surprise. She nearly always is. I decided that yes, I would sleep on it. Give it until today before deciding the fate of the post. Upon waking it was crystal clear that her advice was as valid for me as it is for those whom I often give it to. Though I hadn't writen anything I would later regret, this was not something I would have wanted my son to see some day.

So, just like that I deleted it without regret. And feel much better for not publishing. None of us are perfect. Therefore it is helpful, especially when the going gets tough, to have someone you love close by to remind you when to live by your very own values.

Need I Say More?

Dear Wikipedia authors,

You might consider replacing whatever photo you have under the subject Happiness, with the one above. You won't be able to define it any better than: A crayon candle in you birthday morning Banana Waffles.

Singing Happy Birthday was just the Syrup on top.

Yep, this one will brighten my days for some time to come.

This Many!

Lukas, today you are two years old. Wow! When I stop to think, it’s astonishing to me how two years could have passed since you first arrived in my arms a squishy and squirmy, but unbelievably beautiful, little person.

And, though at times it still seems like only yesterday when I laid my eyes on you for the first time, I reconcile this timeline with the realization that there is no possibility that one mind can create this many sublime memories in a single rotation of the planet Earth.

Son, your mother and I have watched you grow in those two short years from that beautiful baby into an inquisitive little boy with an ever present smile and contagious laugh, capable of brightening even the gloomiest Seattle day.

Watching you develop your empathy and communication skills has been nothing short of amazing to us, as you now can understand much more of what we communicate to you than I ever would have dreamed you would at this age. And your ability to communicate back to us in so many diverse ways, including through an ever-expanding vocabulary, is a pure joy for me to behold.

Lukas, two years ago you opened your eyes onto the world for the first time, and through the haze recognized the two people who will always love you without condition. At the moment of your birth I had a feeling that I could never love you more than at that singular defining moment. At that moment I was a father. But I was also wrong, since with each passing day, week, month, and year son, my affection for you multiplies exponentially, defying conventional boundaries.

Buddy, your mother and I say this several times a day, but that doesn’t make it any less true. The fact is that “You are such a good boy!” and you deserve to have this, and many, many more happy days.

Happy Birthday Lukas!

Love,
Your Daddy

Hope For the Common Man

I love adventure. And, even though I am now a father and thus get little actual adventure, aside from the the emotional and physical highs & lows of raising a 2 year old, I still consider myself an adventure buff. Adventure movies: My favorite type. Adventure magazines: I read these and daydream. Adventure books: Have read more than I can remember.

Stories about braving rugged seas, traveling to remote and dangerous locations, and climbing far off peaks have always held an alure for me that is hard to describe. But, now that I am a father and tend to get worn out simply climbing the stairs after a long day at work, I have been content to let my adventure Jones be filled only vicariously through these mediums.

Until now perhaps. I say this because, last night while reading Wikipedia about Alaska's Mt. McKinnley(Denali as it know in climbing circles), Mrs. LIAYF came across and pointed out to me this little tidbit regarding the first sucessful attempt to climb that fabled peak:
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In 1910, four locals (Tom Lloyd, Peter Anderson, Billy Taylor, and Charles McGonagall), known as the Sourdough expedition, attempted McKinley, despite a complete lack of climbing experience. They spent approximately three months on the mountain. However, their purported summit day was impressive: carrying a bag of doughnuts, each a thermos of cocoa, and a 14-foot (4.2 m) spruce pole, two of them reached the North Summit, the lower of the two, and erected the pole near the top. According to them, they took a total of 18 hours — a record that has yet to be breached (as of 2006). No one believed their success (partly due to false claims that they had climbed both summits) until the true first ascent, in 1913. A later expedition confirmed the existence of the spruce pole at the summit.

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So if I am reading this correctly: A group of buddies back in 1910, with no previous climbing experience, grab some hot chocolate and a bag of doughnuts and head up Denali, one of the highest peaks in the world, only to reach the top in record time. A feat which still hasn't been bested to this day? Amazing.

This gives me hope that my goofy notions about someday climbing Washington's own Mt. Rainier may not be so far fetched after all. Of course, I will still have to train a bit beforehand just to be on the safe side. If anyone else is interested, you can meet me after work at the downtown Krispy Kreme for provisions.

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I'll be the one reading an Adventure magazine.

This Would be Difficult Alone

When you are an involved parent it can be easy to take for granted the role your spouse plays. That being said, it takes only a morning like today to jerk me back to reality, and to realize that without the mother of my child around I would be spinning my wheels and getting nowhere in a hurry.

Mrs. LIAYF had to leave early this morning to catch a short flight to Portland for an important meeting, leaving me nonchalant but confident that I could get Lukas ready and out the door on time to daycare. Hey, he was already dressed and fed when she left. How hard could it be?

Cue the Benny Hill music. . . .

As I look back on the morning, I am still not sure why I couldn't quite make things fall into place. Perhaps it was the lack of a plan? At one point, I realized I was already 20 minutes late. And, Lukas pulling everything under the sun out of his toy cabinet to test their varying aerodynamic attributes from one side of the room to another. So, I handed my son his harmonica to distract him while I got everything else together.

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This appeared to work, so I turned to open the outside kitchen sliding door to grab the one cat who hadn't yet come back inside. I leaned down to grab the cat, who mockingly darted away. #$*#@ cat! Leave it outside for the day? I was tempted, but closed the sliding door and made another foray to grab it. Success! However, as I approached the door, Lukas, still blowing his harmonica, swiftly slid it open leaving me to do a leg buckling side step to avoid tripping on the other cat as it darted underneath my feet.

I thought maybe I was being Punk'd. Eventually there came a point where I had retrieved both felines. It took several other minutes to gather everything else up: backpack, daycare bag, coffee, snack cup, his coat and hat. I then gingerly led Lukas down our front stairs, letting him play with some rocks in our courtyard as I hurriedly loaded the car.

"Uh, oh Daddy" was the next thing I heard, and I glanced behind the car where my son had wandered only to find his arm halfway up the tailpipe. Pulling out his greasy dirty arm, I then discovered a nearly perfect sized stone lodged inside the tailpipe. Benny would have been proud.

Eventually, I was able to find a small enough stick to dislodge said stone and we were on our way, leaving me a embarrassing 45 minutes late to work, exhausted, and with a renewed appreciation of just how much easier mornings go with my wife around to help us out the door.

Therefore, let me just say: "Honey, you rock. . . .and please don't schedule anymore early morning meetings!"

A Decent Man

I haven't written much about my father here on this blog, but thought today would be an appropriate time to do so.

My Father is, without question, the hardest working man I know. An Organic Dairy Farmer by trade he is, at 65 years old, still up at 4:00 AM every day of the week putting in hard labor until nearly 8:00 PM each and every night. Sure, there are meals to be eaten, but during this busy time of year for him, most of those are a quick bowl of cold cereal or sandwhich while on the move.

Do the math folks. That is 16 hours a day of work, both physical and mental (he is running a business). There are few people I know who could pull those hours off in thier prime, let alone at age 65. I left the farm 10 years ago and have since become 'soft' enough that I would drop about half way through one such day, much less one after another.


But what amazes me most about my father is not his physical stamina or the workload he endures. No, what amazes me about my father is what a terrific human being he is. A kind and soft spoken man, along with my mother he raised my brother, sister, and I to understand not only the value of a decent work ethic, but also the merits of lending a helping hand to those in need. Rarely did someone, stranger or aquaintance, stopping by our farm with a story of hardship, not find my father with some good deed to help them out.

Whether it be an offer of work, a loan, or a few dollars to help pay that months rent with no questions asked. Whatever someone needed to get by, my father was always there to help them. It didn't matter to him that word got around our town that he was the person to approach if you needed help, someone still needed a kind gesture, and my father was always willing to oblige. This was often to the exclusion of his own needs.

My own son, on this Father's Day, is extremely lucky to have my dad as his grandfather. As he grows, I am sure I will be posed with many questions about why grandpa is helping one person or another. It will be a perfect opportunity for me to teach my son about empathy for others.

I will just tell him, it's because his grandpa is a decent man, and that he cares about people even when there is nothing to gain for himself. And, that he should grow up to not only be like daddy, but grandpa too. If he does, he will be loved by everyone who knows him.

Happy Father's Day Dad.