It’s Summer time and the livin’ is easy. Ok maybe a leeetle too easy for some 1-year-olds.

you know..just hangin’ out in my Crocs®.

Sorry for the lack of news. Between house guests, house projects and work, we’ve been quite busy. Not to mention, the sun has finally made an appearance; we have been trying to spend as much time as possible outside. And, in case you’re wondering, yes, we’re heavily invested in the sunscreen industry.

He’s finally discovered the true purpose of his tongue.

For you Seattleites who haven’t tried Molly Moon’s Ice Cream in Wallingford yet; I suggest doing whatever you can to remedy that situation immediately.

I’d like to take this opportunity to thank Charlie for making Father’s Day possible. Without you, kid, I’d just be another schmo who sleeps past 6AM and spends his money on useless video games and beer instead of diapers…and…beer. Traditionally speaking, we spend Father’s day working on random house projects. Ok, so this was only my second Father’s day, but so far, it’s been two for two (that’s tradition, right?). Last year, we spent the day painting some interior walls. This year, I got MY father involved and we installed a new front door. It opens, it closes, it latches, it locks..and so far hasn’t fallen out of the frame. Knock on wood…Not the door—it hasn’t been tested for that yet..just find some other wood and knock on it. Thanks. And thank you, Dad(Grandpa)..happy Father’s Day.

Anyway, enough about fathers. Let’s talk about parents. I’m not sure if you remember—with all my grumbling about manual labor and whining about the Seattle weather—that Andrea is pregnant. I’m sure she has a lot to say, so I’ll let her fill you in with details once typing doesn’t make her barf. However, yesterday afternoon it was revealed to us at the 18-week ultrasound that ‘Betababy’ is…

girl.

In related news, Upon her birth, I will be ordering a DNA test to make sure that Betababy’s real father isn’t actually Skeletor.

conquering Castle Grayskull

I sat down last night after putting the kid to sleep to catch up on email and the day’s news. I tried listening to some relaxing music, but all I could hear was the sound of the wind pounding rain against the old windows of our house. It now seems like it’s been far too long since I’ve had a conversation that hasn’t managed to deviate to the subject of the weather and the desire for summer to actually begin in Seattle. I think the biggest problem is that we’ve actually had a few freakishly warm days in the past month or two. <flashback> You wake up that Saturday morning with the sun burning holes through your eyelids; you hop out of bed pack away all of your rain gear, throw on some summer clothing and go dance and sing summer praises in the streets…Then, Monday rolls around and you oversleep. Not because you were up too late the night before soaking your overly-danced feet in the kiddy-pool; but because the sun went back to hiding behind a soggy layer of gray clouds. Sliding your goulashes galoshes onto your blistered feet, you feel utterly defeated—and just a little mad at the world.

So now, I often find myself reminiscing about those gloriously sunny days. Like a few weeks ago when I was tasked with digging a flower bed, but became distracted by Charlie’s love of worms and other critters that happen to live under the ground that I was digging.

Or the time, shortly after Charlie’s Uncle Kevin and Aunt Meghan got back from their trip to Europe. Kevin, a trained culinary master, came over and grilled some heavenly Copper River Salmon for us. It was an incredible meal.

Or the Saturday after the flamingos exhibit opened at Woodland Park Zoo when I towed Charlie in his bicycle trailer up to see them. The zoo celebrated the grand opening with music, pink tschochke, and flamingo flavored Cupcake Royale cupcakes.

Or, last Friday, when the clouds broke just in time for the weekend to begin. We were invited out on our friend’s boat for a cocktail hour and a relaxing ride around Lake Union. We then docked the boat at Dukes and had another delicious seafood dinner.

Perhaps its my fault for claiming that it doesn’t actually rain that much in Seattle; and this is the rain gods’ way of slapping me in the face. Either way, the monsoon must stop. Please. The last thing we need is another grunge-like genre of music to be born from the local group of seasonally depressed angst teens…or thirty-somethings, for that matter. Anybody know how to play the drums? angrily? Pass the heroin; lets ROCK!

I THOUGHT I smelled whiskey on his breath when he got home from preschool that day.

Charlie’s first school picture…at least his finger isn’t in his nose.