Ok, it’s not just me. It IS hot in here.

It’s 104º degrees.


Air Conditioner:  Damn, it’s hot!

Me:  Well, that’s why you’re here.

AC:  Hell no, you don’t pay me for this.

Me:  Well, actually…  Yes, I do.  This is the San Fernando Valley, you knew what you were signing on for.

AC:  Nuh uh.  I’ve been on your roof for 15 years.  Keeping you cool.  Keeping you warm.  Cleaning your air from LA smog….  When’s the last time you changed my filters?

Me:  Uhhhhh.  You have filters?

AC:  See!  No respect.

Me:  But…  But… Hot.

AC:  So, you want me to keep you cool today?  I’m busting my ass on your roof.  It’s even hotter up here, by the way.  Fact.

Me:  Well, I didn’t…  I mean…  But…  I thank you for your service…?

AC:  So, no.  Not today.  Not tonight.  Not tomorrow.  I’m out.  Have a good day, dear sir.


So, yeah.  Our air conditioner is out.  But look!   It’s only going to be 93º today.  But the Heat Index says it’ll feel like 92º.  A cooling trend.   So, yay, I guess.

(I am ever the optimist with silver linings around every cloud.)

Also, we have a pool.

Check in with me later, and let’s see if my mood has changed.  I just bought a new thing of deodorant, so that will help.


So, Julianna (she’s 9) and I are watching some Finding Bigfoot show on TV (hint: They never actually find one. Surprise.)

J: Well, Daddy, maybe it’s just a guy in a mask.

Me: Maybe.

J: And, he pretends to be a Bigfoot.

Me: Uh-huh.

J: And, he has big shoes like a clown to make the footprints.

Me: So, he’s a clown?

J: No. I’m saying “Like” a clown.

Me: Does he have a big red nose? “Like” a clown.

J: Daddy, stop that.

Me: Does he come out of a small car with his other Bigfoot friends?

J: No, Daddy. You’re confusing me.

Me: Does he have a make-up smile, or a make-up frown.

J: Daddy, I’m being real here. About Bigfoot.

Me: Really? You’re being real. About Bigfoot.

J: You know what a Yeti likes to eat?

Me: What, Sweetie?

J: Spa-Yeti.

Me: Ha ha. Can we watch football now?

J: No, they might find one.

Me: In the four years that this show has been on the air, they haven’t found one. And, we have to sit through 7 minutes of commercials to discover that, no, they didn’t find one.

J: Maybe this time they will.

Me: I give up. You win with your wide-eyed optimism. Football can wait. Let me know how this ends. I’m getting a beer.

J (from the other room…): No, they didn’t find one.

Me: Surprise.

Girls Marrying Girls

Isabella (she’s 6): Daddy, you know sometimes it would be better if girls didn’t marry other girls.

Me: Umm… Why, Honey? Because they will face a life-long struggle against discrimination? They will be shunned by their friends and family, fired from their jobs for no reason, be denied housing opportunities, and be relegated to a second-class existence in the eyes of many, while living in the land where all are created Equal?

Iz: No, because the girls may have too many babies. Girls have babies. Two girls could have lots of babies. Too many babies.

Me: Yes, Honey. Well.. Good point. Not usually how it works, though. But, yes. Girls can sometimes have lots of babies.

Am I over-thinking things?

Birth Control

I know that the subject of Birth Control has been a big topic in the news over the last few months. Even in the 21st century. But, here’s some advice even the Catholic Church can agree with:

The best form of Birth Control is: Having children.

You should sense a story coming on…

The other night, Julianna (7) and Isabella (5) are hunkered down at the dining room table watching some kid thing on the iPad. Mommy and Daddy are in the adjoining Family Room watching “Chopped” on the big screen TV.

A commercial comes on. Somehow, Mommy and Daddy start kissing. Seriously. Romantically. (Perhaps it’s the broccoli rabe.)

Mommy glances toward the bedroom..

Mommy: You wanna…?

Daddy (that’s me, for the record): Can we get away?

Mommy: We can try.

We tip-toe, and close the door… 15 seconds later:

BAM! BAM! on the door.

Isabella: Mommy, I need you!!

Daddy: How do they know?!!

Mommy: Isabella, please! Can’t we have 10 minutes alone?!

Daddy (to Mommy): 10 minutes?… That’s optimistic, thanks for the vote of confidence. (but I digress.)


A couple more pleas from Mommy and Daddy to leave us alone fall on deaf ears. So, Mommy sets the girls up with whatever they need. Milk. Juice. A 401K. It takes a while. The girls are contented.

Eventually, Mommy flips on the Hot Tub…

Mommy (to Daddy): You wanna?

Daddy: Can we get away?

Mommy: I dunno. Let’s see.

We slip outside and into the hot tub.

15 seconds later… Four eyes are staring at us through the screen door.

Julianna: We heard the water sloshing. We did NOT know you were getting into the hot tub.

Isabella: Can we get in, too?

Of course. Sigh.

Isabella: Daddy, can I sit in your lap like Mommy was?

Mommy and Daddy (in unison, emphatically and in stereo): NO!!!

A rare Southern California summer light rain begins to fall. Mixed with the heat from the hot tub, the cool summer rain begins to lull us all off to drowsytown.

Eventually, Mommy carts the kids off to bed. She returns to the screen door some time later, groggy-eyed. I’m nearly asleep amid the bubbles.

Mommy: You wanna…?

Daddy: Go to bed?

Mommy: Yes, my words exactly.

Mommy slips into bed while I head off to brush my teeth, check for emails, and make sure the doors are locked. Out of the corner of my eye, I see movement in the shadows. I follow the thump-thump pitter-patter of little feet to my bedroom.

Isabella: Mommy, can I sleep with you?

Mommy: Of course. Climb up.

Looks like “Junior” will have to wait to get his start in life.

Rock ‘n’ Roll Hall of Fame

Julianna (she’s seven) and I are watching the Rock and Roll of Fame concert from 2009 on the Palladia channel. Paul Simon is singing with Crosby, Stills and Nash. They’re doing “The Sound of Silence.” It totally rocks.

J: Daddy, is this a good song?

Me: Oh, Honey. One of the best songs ever written. It is beautiful.

They finish. My eyes are welling up.

Then, Art Garfunkel comes out. Simon and Garfunkel do “The Boxer”… “Just a come-on from the whores on Seventh Avenue.” Glorious song-writing. Perfection.

At this point, I’m crying like a two-year-old.

J: Daddy.. Don’t be sad. I will have Lady Gaga and Nikki Minaj when I grow up.

Me: Unfortunately, yes you will.

Then Art Garfunkel takes center stage. I plead: Please don’t do “Bridge”…

Garfunkel: “When you’re weary, feeling small. When tears are in your eyes. I will dry them all.”

Dude… I’m a puddle in my own living room. In front of my second-grader. “Shhh.” I tell her. “Please let me have this…”

She backs off.

Then: Daddy can I have some ice cream?


Do You Want Fries with That?

Daddy/Daughter Fun Time goes to a restaurant for lunch.

Waitress: What can I get ya?
Isabella: Um… A corn dog.
Waitress: With…?
Isabella: French Fries!
Waitress: And you, sweety?
Julianna: Chicken Nuggets.
Waitress: With…?
Julianna: French Fries!
Waitress: And you sir, what will you be having?
Me: I’ll have the French Dip. With (cringing) French Fries.
Waitress: Ok, French Fries it is. (Adding a little judgmentally, while glancing at my mid-section,) I see where they get it.

Inching Closer to “The Talk”

This time, it was seven-year-old Julianna instead of her younger sister. On the drive to the grocery store:

J: Daddy, before I was born, I grew in Mommy’s belly, right?
Me: Yes, Sweety.
J: But, before I began to grow, I was already in there, right?
Me: Um…. Yes, in a sense.
J: Well, what made me begin to grow? Was it food? Did Mommy eat something?…
Me: Well, not exactly. You see…
J: Well, but… How do babies begin to grow in their mommy’s belly.
Me: That’s a great and complicated question. But… Ooo, look. We are at the supermarket. Who wants to get in the Race Car Shopping Cart?!
J: Me!!!!!!

I’m not trying to avoid the discussion. It’s just not a discussion I want to have in the parking lot of a Ralphs.

(By the way, I didn’t need to pick up any chicken at the market… There was already a huge one driving the car. Bwaaak!)

Big and Strong vs. Small and Cute

How to get your kids to eat healthfully:

Isabella (The five-year-old): Daddy, Looook… I’m eating carrots because Mommy said they’re healthy!
Me: Nooo! If you eat healthy food then you will grow up Big and Strong!
Iz: I know. I want to be Big and Strong.
Me: But I need you Small and Cute, not Big and Strong. Noooooo!!

(hours later)
Iz: Daddy, look, I’m eating SPINACH!!
Me: Nooooooooo! Small and Cute, not Big and Strong!
Iz: Daddy (flexing her arms), I’m Big and Strong.
Me: Nooooo!

Looks like my plan “backfired.”

Bubble Heads

It’s so early on a Saturday morning, but the Comedy Gods have already struck gold.

Seven-year-old Julianna: Daddy, can I go to www-dot-bubblebutts-dot-com?

Me: Excuse me? Where?

J: Oh, I mean BOBBLEBOTS-dot-com. They’re toys. Part of the Moshi Monsters cartoon.

Me: Ok. Because I’ve been cruising the Internet long enough to know that “bubblebutts” is an entirely different class of bubble than you might expect.