Category Archives: Photos

Dec 28 2009

School Photos 2009

One of my favourite days of the school year is picture day. The usual rag-tag group of kids suddenly shows up at school with shirts tucked in, hair combed, and a noticeable absence of milk mustaches. A has taken it pretty seriously for the past couple of years, going shopping weeks in advance for a nice shirt and sweater to wear.

One frustrating thing about getting the school photos is the weird sizes you end up receiving. I spent a fair amount of time trying to find a nice hinged 4 x 6 photo frame, and nearly lost it on Christmas Eve when I found out the actual photo size is 3.5 x 5. What the hell is that?

Last year’s school photos were a little disappointing. There was something odd about A’s photo – I can’t exactly put my finger on it, but it just didn’t look like him. They also had him pose with his chin resting on his hand, and that became his default photo pose for the next six months.

I think this year’s photos are much better. A & K look like little Alex P. Keatons in their sweater vests, but that’s O.K. – I totally wanted to be Alex when I was in grade 9. Enjoy.

K, Junior Kindergarten

A, Grade 1

Mar 10 2008

14 Feet and Counting

In a post from December 17, I wrote the following:

“There’s the feeling that we’re witnessing something special, a once-every-thirty-years kind of winter that people will talk about for years to come. Come on, Mother Nature, show us what ya got.”

Three months later, I’d like to apologize to the poor citizens of Ottawa for taunting Mother Nature – I completely underestimated her wrath.

This is a winter of mythic proportions. The city has almost become unrecognizable, with streets reduced to narrow canyons weaving between towering snowbanks. Driving has become a game of chicken, with head-on collisions narrowly avoided when one driver squeezes over to take refuge at the end of a driveway. Snow is the only topic in Ottawa (well, that and “What the hell happened to the Senators?”)

Now some of you may be thinking “hey, we’ve had snow, too”. No, you haven’t. Toronto? 190 cm. Waterloo? 246 cm. Montreal? 346 cm. Vancouver? Please.

After the 56 cm we received this past weekend, we’re at 410 cm, or almost 14 feet of snow. When I say I’ve never seen this much snow, it’s true – the record was set during the winter of 1970-71, just slightly before my time. We still have another foot to go to set the record, and I’m hoping it happens. Second place is for chumps, and I didn’t strain my back shoveling for the past few months just to finish behind some lame measurement from the Nixon era.

I’ve embraced the new Ottawa landscape. Our backyard, untouched for the past two months, has become an awesome playground, with trenches, tunnels, and forts of stunning size. As I played with the boys after dinner tonight, I was also struck by a sudden sadness. This wonderland is fleeting, and I don’t have long to enjoy it with Aidan and Kieran before it disappears, perhaps never to return.

So, Mother Nature, now that you’ve dumped all this on us, would it be too much to ask to let it stay around for a while? I’ve got a few more forts to build, a few more holes to dig, a few more muscles to pull from shoveling.

Orleans Snowwall

FYI, our snowbank isn’t quite this high. Luc Guertin from Orleans built this 16 foot monster by hand over the past couple of months.

Feb 4 2008

The Wife

B commented the other night that you wouldn’t know she exists by reading my blog. I think she must have missed the 51 previous posts that include at least some mention of her, but in any case, I thought I should devote an entire post to her to make up for any perceived shortcomings on my end.

You know those long-running sitcoms that have two characters who drive you crazy by taking years to finally get together? That was us. We both liked each other for a long time, but circumstances (i.e. other relationships) stood in the way. Eventually we were single, and I started to find ways of getting to spend time with her, including signing up to play in an amateur production of The Music Man (the infamous farting flutist version [EDIT: B asked me to clarify that it wasn't her who farted. She doesn't do that.]). After six months of chickening out, I finally found the nerve to kiss her, and that was all she wrote.

Just six short years later we got married. I wanted to do it much sooner, but B wanted to wait until she was 28, which she considered to be the perfect marrying age.

Over the past few years, our duo became a trio and then a quartet. B was amazing during labour and delivery – you should have seen her in action. Actually, that probably wouldn’t have been good for anyone, but take my word for it, she has the birthing thing down. How many women have woken up at midnight, gone to the hospital to have a baby, and then been back at home by 8:00 am with a new baby and take-out from McDonald’s?

I could go on and on, but my battery is running low. I’ll leave you with a photo I took of B at Winterlude on Sunday morning. She always looks good in pictures, but this is one of those really good ones. Ciao.

B Winterlude

Feb 3 2008

Daddy, Can I Ask You A Question?

With two boys under the age of five, I probably spend about thirty hours a week answering questions. Some days, it seems like I’m faced with a constant stream of queries about totally unrelated topics. One minute K’s asking me if I know where his puppy is, the next second A is asking me how God created the Earth.

A seems to be picking up a lot of information from his friends at school, which has resulted in some interesting questions at the dinner table lately.

“Dad, have you heard of Punta Cana?”

“Dad, have you heard of the Nintendo Wii?”

“Dad, have you ever seen R2-D2?”

“Dad, can we buy a Mercedes?”

“Dad, what’s a bikini?”

This morning, with no prompting whatsoever, he said “Dad, boys don’t have boobs.”. I almost choked on my Cheerios.

It’s hard to keep a straight face at some of his comments. The other night, in the middle of a huge temper tantrum, A repeatedly yelled “This is the worst night of my life!”. B and I both got the giggles, which was not the reaction A was hoping for.

K has his moments, too. The other day, as he was sitting on the toilet, he looked me in the eye and said “Poop is my friend”. I was left speechless.

In all seriousness, I love how inquisitive children are at this age.  They are just so curious about how everything works, and you can see their little brains working overtime to figure things out.

I’ll leave you with a picture of the boys that was taken earlier today at Winterlude.

A & K Through Ice

Dec 31 2007

Guitar Hero 3

As a consumer of popular culture in all its various forms, I have an acute sense that I am missing out on something significant by not owning a gaming console. The last time I had a video game in my house was back in 1995, when Patrick had a Sega Genesis and the 308 Boys played NHL ’94 for hours on end. Apparently things have changed considerably since then.

There are times I regret not having a machine in my house. I have never punched a hooker (Grand Theft Auto III), tortured a prisoner (Manhunt 2), scored the winning touchdown (Madden NFL), designed clothes for a girl (Barbie Fashion Show), or raised a family (The Sims). Actually, I guess I have raised a family, although something tells me the video game version is a lot easier than the real life version.

Over the holidays, I had the opportunity to try my hand at Guitar Hero 3, a little-known video game that was recently released without fanfare. It was awesome. After the first ten minutes, I was immediately reminded of the first time I tried cocaine – that feeling of euphoria, hyperactivity, and gnawing paranoia.

The amazing thing about the game is you get the sense you’re actually playing guitar. Of course, that’s ridiculous, as it takes at least an hour to learn how to play a real guitar while you can be up and running in just five minutes with GH3 (that’s what the cool kids call it). Guitar makers should take note, though, that brightly coloured buttons are much easier to use than those pesky strings and frets.

I would love to play GH3 again, but it would cost about $600 for an Xbox, the game, and two controllers. Call me old-fashioned, but for that kind of money, I think I prefer the real thing.

Aidan and Kieran entertaining the family with their version of Suck My Kiss.

My little Yngwie Malmsteen.