It's Like This

I've always wondered at what point women realize that we (men) actually have no real idea what they are thinking. I think it happens at different ages for different women... maybe, for some, it takes a certain relationship to really grasp that.

I have a hunch that, for many, it never really gets there.

And I think that's why I'm so proud of my little chick. With all the wisdom that four years of life bring with them, she already knows how to communicate to me what she is really needing.

I know, because it happened last night.


We were having story time before getting her ready for bed. She cuddled in beside me, as she usually does, while we read, and at one point, I reached over and picked her up to give her a really good cuddle - one of those ones that just don't work right, sideways. And she got an idea.

"Daddy" she said, her eyes just lighting up. "Let's do this: you tickle, and I'll wiggle".

So we did. And she laughed, and I laughed, and it was wonderful. I'm so glad I knew.

I'm Over Here

The little chick and I have been playing a lot of hide and seek lately. It's been an interesting experience for me... I don't remember playing a lot of hide and seek, but I'm pretty sure I don't remember ever playing it like this.

She is pretty good at the counting, but not great at closing her eyes... not a surprise for a three year-old. She has a habit of hiding in the exact place that she just found me. But I think that part of it is that she doesn't care much about the surprise aspect of it, because pretty frequently when it's my turn to hide she likes to tell me where I should be hiding.

Of course, I don't worry too much about that. And she always finds me, eventually.

She does get bored sometimes, and can kind of forget that I'm hiding somewhere as she finds a book or a toy that takes a little higher priority. That's pretty par for the course, too, with a little chick.

The best part, though, is the goal of the game for her. For most people, it's to find whoever is hiding, or to stay hiding. For her, it's all about the hugs at the end.

So she's not very discreet when she's hidden, but I play the game: I walk around the house, asking where she is, looking into drawers or under cushions, while she "hides". She'll start in the closet, and poke her head out to see if I've spotted her. When I walk by, she'll jump back in, then put her head out again and yell "Daddy, I'm over here!!!". Then she'll be back in the closet for a minute, then out again completely, as I routinely fail completely to find her, even with her hint. Finally, she'll be unable to hold it in any longer, and will jump out, hop around, and call me until I manage to find my way back to her to give her a giant hug.

So the hiding part is a bit sketchy. The seeking is not much better.

But the hugs are pretty great.

The Best Stuff

Caro, please don't tell.

I was in the grocery store yesterday and there was a Dido song playing, and I was thinking to myself, "this is certainly not one of the best songs ever written". A couple days before that, Boys of Summer had been playing as I was being electrocuted in the physiotherapist's office, and I had the exact opposite thought.

So, I think it's time to talk about some of the best stuff. Feel free to pitch in.

Best Songs (at the moment....)
Boys of Summer (Don Henley)
I Hope You Dance (Lee Ann Womack with a great backing band)
most of the Pornografitti album (Extreme)
With or Without You, Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking for, Where the Streets Have No Name (U2)
Anything that doesn't have Sean Paul in it

Best Band Names
Chixdigit
Marky Mark & The Funky Bunch (thanks to Erin for the reminder)
Monday Night Band

Best Delivery of the Word "Tea?" (as an invitation)
British Nathan

Best Foods
Steak
Nat's trifle
Anything deep-fried

Best Sound
The little chick's laugh

Best Articles of Clothing
Depends heavily on the situation, but, in general, a great pair of jeans
Big Red Coat

Best Tire
Front driver's side

Best Picture
The next one...


More to come. Hope you're all well!

Hi - My Name Is Darryl and I'm From the Plane

So, I like it here. And by here, I mean Ireland; Dublin, actually.

We just arrived yesterday and, as the myth goes, the Guinness really does taste better here... not as bitter, and yes, I am sure it is not just my imagination. I was expecting that to be a real hoax, but it's true.

But besides that, the people are so, so friendly. Everyone I've talked to (and, when you get lost as much as I do, you get the chance to talk to a lot of people) has been incredibly helpful and cheery. No one has given me wrong directions just for the fun of it. And a lot of them even smile when we're talking. Plus, they have the coolest accent. And really, really good beer.

And not just the Irish are friendly - as I was shooting today, I had a couple of Italian men (one with a very, very small dog) come up to me to ask about my gear. They knew by site the lens I was using (nerds!) and we chatted for a while about pictures, about gear, and about why everything costs twice as much here as it does in the US. And, on that note, one of them offered to buy the lens from me for as much as I had paid for it (well, it and a few other little accesories). It was pretty funny - I thought he was joking, but he kept offering. I didn't go for it, and thankfully they didn't sic the little dog on me. That could have been a problem.

We did have another little dog who caused a bit of trouble later in the day, though. As we were looking around at a church, Katie and Robyn decided (naturally) that they would like to roll down a grassy hill. Which, given the options you may have when faced with the question of what to do with a grassy hill, in general, is not a bad choice. Anyways, they did, much to the consternation of a small and rather aggressive dog across the lawn. He came tearing over, threatening to nip at the heels of the poor girls, until I stepped on him and killed him.

Actually, I didn't - his owners came over and collected him. But it would have made for a better story. Oh well.

Before that, I was in Munich, again. I worked there for quite a while, a few years ago. And you know what? I never thought I would say it, but it was good to be back. I like the Germans... their food, the way they look, their architecture, the language. Yeah... it's been a good week.

Hmmmm.... we have dinner plans and I need to go. But I'll try to update you a little more on the trip tomorrow. Happy weekend, all!

Oz

I think I wish I was Australian.

The hostel we're at here in Cesky Crumlov has Australian managers (at least for now... they're traveling, and just took the job for a couple months to tide them over until they head to France), another Australian couple there, and a fifth Aussie guy.

And they are all so friendly it just about frightens me.

I've heard "Yeah, no worries, Darryl!" about a thousand times in the last two days. And every time, it makes me smile. They joke around, they smile constantly, they use words that, I'm sure, they are making up on the spot. They have nicknames for everyone, as well as for a good number of inanimate objects, too. They say things like "yeah, mate, I have to go for a run... had some sugar, need to burn it off!" that are just wildly entertaining. Really, if you're planning to just burn it off, why bother in the first place?

When we arrived, I was pissed off. There was supposed to be someone here to meet us when we arrived. There was a sign on the door saying that reception was open until 8, and, at 7:30, there was nobody there, except for a couple of girls staying in the hostel who, kindly, opened the door and let us in. The managers had left a phone number on the door that was, unfortunately, missing a number. Didn't work.

Once we got in, I dug around a little bit, and found a paper on a noteboard with the wifi key, so I logged on, got online, and found the right phone number. So I called, and there was no answer. I left a message. But would they get it? Would they be back? Who knows... at least we were inside. But I figured that between not being there, leaving a phone number that didn't work, and then not answering it when we did call them, these guys had a couple strikes against them in my book when we were to meet.

So when they arrived, I was ready to tangle. But I was almost immediately disarmed by the Shawn and Tamara greeting me like a long-lost friend, apologizing for the mix-up, clearly being mortified about leaving the wrong number, and then treating me like I was staying at their house. They had been bowling, with the other Aussies staying here. Within 30 seconds all was forgiven, I was ready to go for a drink with them, and silently bemoaning my lack of an accent.

Add that to the many other Australians I have known and loved in Geneva, and I think that I want to go there. Other than the heat and the bugs and the seemingly large number of animals, plants, and creepy-crawlies capable of killing you that are native to that big island, I have a humch it might be my kind of place.

Happy New Year

Original, huh? Nonetheless, I hope it's a good one... for all of us. And I'll be updating more, soon. I promise. Until then, have an egg-nog for me. Or, better yet: I'll have the egg-nog and you can do a half-hour run for me. If only it were that simple...

It Makes Me Happy

One of the frequent visitors to TYC mentioned to me a week or two ago that she feels like I hold back here.

It's true. I post some of what's happening with me and the little chick, but certainly not all. I allude, sometimes, to some of the deeper or more challenging things I'm dealing with personally, but I don't (and won't) go into the specifics of the situations. I don't feel like this is much of a forum at all for what is (or isn't) happening for me romantically.

But, at the same time, I can honestly explore how any of these things are affecting me. I talk about what I'm not sure of, what I am learning. I can post about what Christmas really means to me right after I post about listening to an old AC/DC tune; I can put on pictures or words, be funny or serious, self-absorbed or thinking about things much bigger than me.

It makes me happy to be able to have this venue to write, think, and explore. And I deeply appreciate you being willing to join me in it; those of you who subscribe or check in regularly to read, and those of you who click on that little "comment" button. Thanks.

Hooray

When I got home tonight, I did some dishes.

Usually, this is not a reason to celebrate.

But tonight was a good dishes night because I live alone, which is, oddly enough, also not always a reason to jump up and down. But the good thing about living alone and doing dishes is that you can put your mp3 player on, close the door to the kitchen and know that not even the neighbours can hear you sing.

So I put my mp3 player on, closed the door, and sang.

I sang lead. I switched over to harmony and back - mid-phrase - as the urge took me. I sang low, I sang high. I sometimes sang almost high enough. And it was all good.

And here's the thing - not only was it much, much funner than the regular kind of dishes-doing, but my range is getting better. Except for the top couple of notes where she goes into her head voice, I can comfortably sing all of Natalie Imbrouglia's "Counting Down The Days". That's pretty cool.

And my dishes are clean, which is also cool. It's going to be a good night.

Cover Me

This morning I was playing with the little chick - we were playing catch with a balloon. She came over and bonked me on the head with it, so I tumbled over onto the floor. She started giggling and came over and jumped on me, giving me a big hug. "Oooohhhh" she said in a voice that I can't hope to capture in writing, "Daddy-daughter day!" (that's what we call it) and just snuggled right in.

After a minute, she got back to her feet and looked a little concerned... then walked over to her little pink chair where Mrs Cow (who is almost the same size as she is) lives. She pulled her out of the chair and brought her over to me; lifting my head, she pushed Mrs Cow underneath. "Daddy needs pillow," she explained. I'm not sure how it was for Mrs Cow, but it was a whole lot more comfy for me.

Then she realized something was still missing - she ran off to where all her supplies are for her baby, and came back with a blanket... a blanket that is more symbolic than functional, even for her baby: it's about one foot square. "For Daddy's feet," she said. She stood by my feet and considered. Then, straddling my legs, she decided against the feet and waddled up until she was at my belly, and spread the blanket out over me. "Now," she said, sitting herself in her pink chair next to me, where she could keep an eye on my condition, "close eyes and go to sleep."

Well, the sleep only lasted about 15 seconds before it was time to play again, but it was wonderful to see her learning to stop and get outside of herself, to think about what I (or anyone) might need, and to want to care for those needs. That's the kind of little chick I want to raise.

I'm a pretty happy guy.

It Doesn't Mean I'm Fussy

I cleaned out my bag this morning - the one I carry my PC in and (when I'm traveling for work) more or less everything else, too. It wasn't that messy... I had a couple old chocolates in the bottom, a few pieces of paper I don't need any more, and some stuff to put into different pockets, but it felt good to get it organized. Really good, actually. And I realized that the amount of pleasure I derive from organizing something insignificant like that is completely disproportionate to either the amount of effort required or the real-life impact of the activity.

That's pretty cool. It's like some kind of vending machine where you put in a buck and it spits out three.

Plus, now I know how to plan my weekend.

Oh, Happy Day

I found my sunglasses. I had bought some new jeans, and tossed them into the bag on the way out of the store. It's happy, happy news. Not only do I have my favorite sunglasses back, I can maintain that I don't lose stuff like that. Pride and cool shades: what else could I possibly ask for?

Thanks For Helping

We were emptying the garbages today, and I asked the little chick to put her garbage can back in her room. She trotted off, and I turned on the hall light to make it easier for her to see what she was doing, and she turned around and said, "thanks for helpin' on the light" and then went to put her garbage can away. Then we walked around town a bit with her on my shoulders, singing at full volume the whole time, mostly with words I didn't recognize, with the occasional "daddy", "popcorn", "Bible" and "belly" thrown in to make the rhyming work.

It's going to be hard to go back to work.

The Coolest Thing Ever

I wrote about the Eurovision Song Contest here, and here, and here, and especially here. There are a couple other places, too, but you get the point.

I'm a fan.


And I just saw an add for the coolest thing ever. It's here. And that's all I'm going to say about that, for now.

*rubbing hands - the gleeful way, not the devious way*

My Favorite Compliment

The best one I've had in the last while was from a woman who was with me when I was listening briefly ("grooving" is probably a better word) to some recordings of a jam session I had played at. After a while, she told me, "I like watching you listen to music."

I thought that was pretty cool, especially since I can imagine that my particular version of "active listening" could be annoying. It was nice to hear.

[EDIT] Oh, and for the record, she's closer to my mom's age than mine, and wasn't hitting on me, which maybe doesn't make it count double, but it is different.

Tonight

You are probably curious, but didn't want to ask. And I don't think it's in either of our interests for you to be in a socially uncomfortable position. So I'll just come out and say it.

I'm going to make rösti tonight. With cheese. And a fried egg or two. It's going to be greasy, and really, really good. I took pictures instead of eating lunch, so I'm pretty ready for it. Mmmmmmm....

I Just Feel Like Dancing

Yes, as it turns out, I am the exact opposite of the Scissor Sisters. The problem is that I can't find my Jackson 5 CD anywhere. Oh well... it would probably lead to my neighbour calling the police, anyways.

Happy Thought Of The Day

From Veggie Tales, an animated series about a group of vegetables. They don't have arms or legs, manage to get around pretty well anyway.

Larry the Cucumber (in tears, to Bob the Tomato, after a particularly touching story): "That was beautiful: hold me, Bob."
Bob the Tomato (also in tears): "I would if I could, man. I would if I could."