The Best Kind of Tie Breaker

Tie breakers, especially in sports, can be edge of your seat, blood-pressure raising affairs. They can also be painfully dull (tennis, anyone?). Tie breakers can also have worldwide impact, and not necessarily in a good way. One need look no further than the hanging chad debacle that was the 2000 Presidential Election for proof of that.

That said, tie breakers can also be a lot of fun. We've seen that play out recently here in the Den. For those of you more eagle-eyed readers who took a look at some of the RM's wedding pictures, you might have noticed that one member of the Den may have looked ever so slightly different. How so? Perhaps you may have spotted a little bump the waistline. Admittedly, that could have been me, given the amount of food I took in while we were behind the Zion Curtain. Alas, it wasn't me.

It was, in fact, Our Lady of Awesome, our oldest daughter, sporting that little bump because she is expecting another baby. If you are counting along, that's Grandbaby #3! We'd known about this prior to last month's wedding celebration but we were still sworn to secrecy. Soon after we left the Zion Curtain, she went to her real doctor and not one of those "only in Utah" mobile ultrasounds out the back of someone's van places (I'm not even exaggerating about this, people), to find out how the tie in their home was going to be broken.

With one boy and one girl, the tie was broken with this reveal:

Jane's reaction is pretty priceless!

It's a boy, arriving in April 2018! Suffice to say, we are pretty darn excited about this new edition to the Den. As we counted our blessings this past week at Thanksgiving, this new baby and his health were things we were most grateful for.

Now that the tie is broken and the word is out, the name suggestions are on the way. Benson wants him to be called Rudy Bear, after Rudy Gobert, his favorite Utah Jazz player. My suggestion, Fred, was once again shot down faster than Dear Leader Despot Wannabe Trump's latest insane desperate lie about being Time's Person Of The Year.

April can't get here soon enough! We can't wait to welcome this new one to our family!

The Hunt for Wed October

Glorious stroop waffles from The Mighty Baker

With apologies (as in 'sorry, not sorry') to the creative masterminds behind 1990's cinematic opus, "The Hunt for Red October," wherein Sean Connery played a hardened Russian submarine commander with an inexplicable Scottish brogue and an even more inexplicable hair piece, in today's post, I give you "The Hunt for Wed October," wherein I'll briefly catch you up to speed on what went down in the Den in October.

The latter half of the month was spent behind the Zion Curtain indulging in culinary goodness, like stroop waffles from the Mighty Baker, tacos and more tacos than are probably permitted under the regime of Dear Leader Trump, and way too many Vikings from Sodalicious. There was also the matter of this little event:

That's the RM, emerging triumphantly from his 21st October wedding ceremony, with his new bride, the lovely MC. His Rockette-esque high kick reflects his excitement, as well as his innate ability to always keep it classy (a quality he obviously gets from his father, natch). And speaking of keeping it classy, no, he is not flipping the bird there. He's proudly showing off his finger that now sports a wedding ring. This little event is what brought us back to the Zion Curtain and it goes without saying that yeah, it was pretty awesome. It was more than awesome. It was perfect. As we went through the events of the wedding, from the groom's dinner, to the wedding and the two receptions, to the weather which was glorious, on multiple occasions, the stunningly patient and mighty fine SML and I would say to one another, 'Could this be any more perfect?' To say that we were blessed would be a foolish understatement. To be surrounded by family and friends, as we welcomed a new member to our family, was joyous.

Proud to stand with our son and his new bride

Our growing collection of children. Turns out
I really, really like these people.

I can't say enough good things about our new daughter-in-law and her family. She is a product of great parents, who have raised a wonderful young woman. We were able to spend some time in their home, meeting their family and friends at Reception #2 in Twin Falls, ID., and these are people who are loved. It was really good to see how the RM seems to fit in as well with them. That's important because when you marry, you get a new family, whether you like it or not. I scored on the In-Law Lotto when the stunningly patient and mighty fine SML married and I think the RM has done the same. We'll see what MC has to say about her in-laws, meaning me since I'm the "handful"...(that test will come at the end of the year after a week with us for Christmas Vacation). That said, she fits in beautifully with our daughters and our son-in-law and as you can see from the picture above, they look great as a family.

As we had our children together, I was reminded of how fortunate I am. Then with each moment I spent with these two, that feeling of fortunate exploded into the incomparable joy of being a grandpa:

I could bang on for days about the fun we had each and every day. These two, who are the lights of my life as if that weren't obvious, were stuck with us for 13 days straight and as far as I'm concerned, it could have gone on forever. We laughed. We created tons of paper spaceships without a single paper cut. We had In-n-Out. Grandpa may, or may not, have let his four year old grandson drive a car around a gated community. Allegedly. We had two nights of Halloween shenanigans. We just had fun every day.

Suffice to say, Wed October was a very good month for us. It was so good to see old friends, like the RM's buddies from Connecticutistan or the Boys of the Dirty 630. We had dinner with a couple of friends from our early married days at BYU and it was just like yesterday (also thanks to A & B, the greatest stalkers ever, who once again showed up to say hi out of nowhere!). I had a chance to reconnect with a few friends from freshman year, 1984, that I had not seen since, wait for it, 1985. Thirty two years, people, but what a great reunion! There was more than a little laughter there, let me tell you.

At the end of "The Hunt for Red October," Jack Donaghy Ryan says to the inexplicably wigged Captain Ramius, "Welcome to the new world, Captain," and that kind of sums up Wed October for us.  As the RM married, he entered a new world called marriage. With MC, we gained a new daughter-in-law and she joins a new world called having me for a father-in-law, the poor thing. It's a new world for our family and I like it. I really, really like it.

Product Endorsement Time:

We could not have pulled off our groom's dinner without the goodness of two companies. For those of you behind the Zion Curtain, or for those of you who go behind the ZC from time to time, please support these two:

180 Tacos - their catering team is great! Food is fantastic and they do a terrific job!

The Mighty Baker - I can't say enough good about this place. Pete is great to work with and man, they make great stuff.

Also for those of us on the East Coast who are used to paying $150 for eggs, milk, and bread from the local Quick-E-Mart, you will die a thousand deaths at how good their pricing is. I'm still reeling.

22

Last night the stunningly patient and mighty fine SML was perusing the Facebooks when she insisted that I look at a picture posted by one of her friends. The picture featured this friend's daughter, in a hospital bed (rightfully so as she had just delivered twins), and her OB/GYN standing next to her, holding the babies. SML wanted to know if I recognized the doctor. I didn't, so I assumed it was the new grandfather. 'No, silly,' she decried. 'It's Dr XX!' Dr. XX delivered both CAL and the RM. Apparently I was supposed to have his image seared into my memory. I did not. The last time I recall seeing or speaking to said doctor was twenty two years ago today when he delivered The Boy aka The RM.

That's right, twenty two years ago today, our lives were inexorably changed with the arrival of The Boy. He was more than a week late, finally turning up when he felt the time was right. That time, of course, was when I was right in the middle of delicious burrito that I was never able to finish (not that I'm still bitter) because a nurse insisted it was time for SML to start pushing. It was our third child and he was our smallest. I mean she could have sneezed and shot him out like a cannon. I could have finished that burrito (again not that I'm still bitter).

While I didn't get to finish that burrito, I am forever grateful for the Boy that we got that day. Each of our children have brought their own unique spirit into our home and he was certainly no different. With two older sisters and his mom, he essentially grew up with three mothers. For the most part, he's been a good sport about that. He's never left us wondering why our lives are dull. He's made sure they aren't. From a cavalcade of broken arms to inexplicable dents in his car during high school to his absolute transparency in telling us all kinds of things, he's made sure our lives have been anything but dull. Frankly, I'm grateful for that. Not sure I'd have it any other way, as I look back on his shenanigans over the years, as a parent does on a child's birthday.

You can't help but look forward to what lies ahead on a child's birthday as well. The RM has grown into a darn good young man. He's wading through young adulthood and is making his way through the minefield of adulthood with aplomb, so far. He's found himself a really lovely young woman and they have a lot of exciting things ahead of them.  We're excited for him, to be sure.

Happy birthday, son. I'm lucky to be your dad. It's been an honor and it's never been boring. My gray hair thanks you.

Mistakes were made and I blame 1979

13 year old me on the far left (but clearly not far enough left).
1979...I hate you.

In a post earlier this month, I wrote about my Aunt Robin who succumbed to the heinous monster that is Alzheimer's Disease. With plans now in place for her memorial, my cousin Leigh requested some family photos so that they can be displayed at the memorial. To help me with that project, she sent me the gem that I've included in this post so that I would have a flavor of what she was looking for.

In looking at the picture, one phrase keeps coming to my mind over and over again, "Mistakes were made," and to be fair, those mistakes were made by me. I've not been shy about sharing my long history of awkward adolescent horror that was captured on film and this will be no different. So let's parse this train wreck.

First a little historical context for you. Picture it, if you will...it's November 1979 and for the first time in many, many years, the Lyons/Kramer families have gathered from Florida, where my grandparents lived and Arizona, where we lived, in Durham, North Carolina for a Thanksgiving reunion. The turkey would have been evidence of the time of year but given that its beige color blends nearly perfectly with my suit, it's more than a little hard to see the bird.

To celebrate that long awaited reunion, I chose to showcase my own poorly developing sense of no style by sporting a three piece suit/explosion of beige. The short sleeve dress shirt and tie combo was a minor league error but an indication of things to come. I mean who was I? Sipowicz? Also, the tie, which looks like it was sewn into the suit for convenience but wasn't (I swear!), was of my own choosing. The jacket, mercifully unseen here, as I recall (but remember repressed memories may not be 100% accurate), had brown faux leather patches that every painfully awkward, late in puberty adolescent boy wants to have in order to pull off that "I'm a professor" look that was sure to make him a hit with the ladies. The best part about this suit was that it was made of, wait for it...corduroy. This was 1979 corduroy which meant it when you walked the corduroy rubbed together loudly enough to make noise as well as emit smoke from the friction. Awesome!

As I was trying to achieve that professorial look, it was clear that I was trying to adult the heck out of this event. I can tell that from my expression captured in the picture. You may see it and think, 'That's what happens when you try to pull a face in a family photo.' I say nay. I recall trying to capture something of a je ne sais quoi attitude about the gathering and you can see how that worked out for me, which is to say not well. Speaking of expressions, I've got to hand it to my sister for not hiding her feelings that day at all. When I shared this picture with her, she said, "Ha ha! I was mad at somebody here." I think she may have had a side order of rage with Thanksgiving dinner. To be fair, this has given us more than a few laughs in the past few days.

Now you may be wondering where I procured the suit featured in today's mini-lesson in my "Learn From My Mistakes" series. I've blocked it out, if I'm honest, but I'm going to go out on a limb and blame the good people of JC Penney and their 1978-1979 catalog. Methinks the travesty in beige I was wearing was found on page 247 of that catalog. Looking back on those catalogs is an invitation to some kind of post-traumatic psychotic event. That said, if you want to bust a gut laughing about that catalog, you need to read this right now. This legendary post is now nearly 10 years old but unlike the catalog that it skewers, it has not aged one day. It's genius!

Since 1979's epic fail, I've learned a thing or two. I've tried to avoid self-emolating by not wearing corduroy. I've steadfastly avoided short sleeves and ties, with the exception of two years on a bike in Miami as a missionary. You try trotting around Little Havana in long sleeves in August...I've learned that you can survive the horrors of your teenage years, no matter how awkward, and find someone who thinks you're pretty darn OK (it should be noted that the stunningly patient and mighty fine SML is a saint). I've learned family forgives things like that a beige suit.

To my family that I'll be seeing in a few weeks at Robin's memorial, rest assured, the suit will not be there. You're welcome.

A Farewell

My father and my Aunt Robin during World War II

One week ago, an insidious disease that our family is all too familiar with, claimed our Aunt Robin. As my cousin Leigh wrote so beautifully of her mother's long fight against Alzheimer's, Robin's fight was dignified.

Dignified. Classy. Kind. Loving. Those are just some of the words that describe my father's sister. Loving is the one that frames my memories most of Robin.

From my earliest days, I can recall my father speaking in the most glowing of terms about his sister. He called her "Pud," (rhymes with 'good'), and to this day, I wish I knew the origin story of that name, but to him, that's who she was. Because we lived in Arizona and Robin's family was in North Carolina, we didn't see each other frequently. I do know, though, that when we did get together in their Durham home, we were never strangers. We were family and even in my peek dork years - 13 years of age - when we all gathered for Thanksgiving, that feeling of family that my aunt worked so hard to create was ever present. As I got a little older, I had the opportunity to visit North Carolina several times as my late grandmother, Grandmommy, was in Robin's care. I have fond memories of attending church with Robin on those trips. She loved music and she was in her element, singing in that stately choir loft in that Presbyterian church in Durham. I was unfamiliar with some of the Presbyterian traditions and she always so kind in explaining how it all worked. Kind, welcoming, warm. Shortly after the stunningly patient and mighty fine SML and I married, I was thrilled that we were able to travel to North Carolina to see our family there. Again, Robin welcomed my sweet wife into the family, as if she'd always been a part of it. I have never forgotten that.

When my father died almost eight years ago, Robin was already fighting the monster that would one day take her life but she was able to travel to Phoenix for his funeral. I will never forget seeing her and my mom, sitting on the couch, holding each other by the hand and reliving memories of my father. The bond my aunt shared with my dad, even though he was now gone, was evident and clearly unbreakable. Family chains don't break and now they are celebrating their reunion, along with their parents who had gone on before them. Their family is together again.

In the coming weeks, we will gather to celebrate her life and to honor the legacy Robin has left in my cousins and their children. We will love, honor, and celebrate a woman who left a positive impact on every person she met.

I'm forever grateful for my Aunt Robin and the life she led. Would that we could all live in such a way that every one you met felt better for it. That's an incredible way to live.

Our family - the last time we were all together. Sweet memories.

Alzheimer's is a horrendous disease. If you'd like to donate to the fight to find a cure, go here.

On Christmas Eve

The ghosts of Joan Rivers and Rabbi Krustovsky are a touch of genius!

It's Christmas Eve. It is on this night that we prepare to celebrate the birth of...well, let's see what Bart Simpson had to say about it:

"Aren't we forgetting the true meaning of Christmas? You know...the birth of Santa."

Suffice to say, Bart missed the mark on that one. But who can blame him? In our consumption soaked society, the real reason for the season, the birth of Jesus Christ, is, at best, an afterthought.

His birth for millions around the world is not an afterthought. It truly is the reason for the season. Tonight families and friends will gather in churches, in homes, or wherever to honor Him and prepare further for Christmas Day. In Little Havana, pigs that have been slow roasting for days in backyard pits will shortly appear on plates, laden with yuca, frijoles negros, and plantains and those people feasting will celebrate loudly and joyously. As a result, Christmas Day is the quietest day of the year in Miami. In our home, we dined on brisket and roasted green beans among other good things. We didn't celebrate as loudly as my Cuban friends but we did rejoice. Two of our children are home with us and it has literally been years since that has happened.

For that and so many other things, we are especially grateful this Christmas Eve. No matter how you celebrate, may this Eve be a special one in the lead up to an even better day tomorrow.

21

It's another day of celebration here in the Den. One of our Den-izens is celebrating a birthday. Today it's The RM who we celebrate. He turns 21 today and suffice to say, we are celebrating a fine young man.

Those 21 years have gone by in a flash. I remember each of our children's births for very different reasons and can go back to them as if it were yesterday. Our Lady of Awesome's birth is associated with many firsts including a whole lot of terror, as she was our first-born (duh!); CAL's birth is associated with peace because A) I wasn't the one doing the birthing and 2) due to an odd set of circumstances and the fact that it was Christmas, it was just the nurses, doctors, and the stunningly patient and mighty fine SML and I in the room as she came into the world; and The RM's birth pretty much set the stage for how he rolls.

He was several days overdue and determined to make his mother just a little crazy. Finally, a bed opened up at the hospital and we were on our way down there for the induction festivities. Of course, by the time we got there some other woman had the testicular fortitude to go into labor on her own and our bed was gone. This news was not well-received. So in my most calm and soothing manner (go ahead and believe that), I explained to the hospital staff that we were not leaving and that they were welcome to find us a place where my wife could being the miracle of birth. Sensing we weren't leaving, they literally dumped us in a large, fairly barren closet-like space and induced SML. Meanwhile, The RM seemed completely non-plussed by all this and still didn't seem in any hurry to leave the comfort of the womb. In the meantime, I found out that some friends of ours from Church were in a room a few doors down, having had a little girl the night before. I sauntered down to their room, greeted the new parents with the following greeting, "Hi Rob and Rhonda! Congratulations on your little girl! Now get out. We need the room." As I recall, her parents, whom I had never met, seemed a little shocked. Suffice to say, that didn't work. So my father had the presence of mind to get me a burrito from Filbertos (he apparently knew the dangers of being hangry before it was a thing and I labored over that thing while SML labored over The RM. Right as things were getting good with the burrito, The RM decided it was showtime and like Moses parting the Red Seas, the Miracle of the Found Room occurred and we were whisked out of the birthing closet and into a real room. In no time flat, again says the guy's who's contribution to this whole process was minimal, The RM made his arrival. It was fairly drama free and full of joy. That's how he started life and that's how he rolls today.

Over the course of these last 21 years, he's made us a little crazy on more than one occasion, but it really has been a drama-free, joyful 21. That's a pretty good way to live, if you ask me. Like his sisters, he's been a joy to us and I can't imagine our world without him. He rounds out our family well.

Happy birthday, mijo!

He loves his Mom and he'll still hug her.
He'll never outgrow that.

So this happened on Mothers Day

Those smiles. Those faces. 

During the years that a missionary for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints serves, they are permitted to call home twice a year. They call home on Christmas and Mothers Day. With the advent of the interwebs,  it's safe to say that the vast majority of those calls are on the Skype or one of its competitors. So we were pretty excited about the chance we had to see and hear from TMFKATB.

Suffice to say, our 45 minute call with him was the highlight of the stunningly patient and mighty fine SML's day. Breakfast in bed and me cooking dinner paled, and rightly so, in comparison to getting to spend some time with TMFKATB. Even better was being able to patch in the Awesomes and CAL. Being all together, even it was via Skype, was truly a little bit of heaven and sure made us excited for the time, which is rapidly approaching, when we will all be together again. We had a lot of fun talking to him. His accent is, well, pretty Cholo / Ese, if I'm being honest. That, of course, led to a lot of good-natured teasing. He also informed us that his beard is now fierce and that he almost has to shave twice a day (hyperbole..yes, please). He also informed us that since being in Utah, his GI system has never betrayed him or, how do I put this delicately (let's face it, I don't), his underwear. Good to know.

In addition to those gems, he told us of his love for his service and the people he's working with. He smiled continually as he spoke of what he's doing. It was good to see him so happy. He followed that up today with a brief letter, given that we'd spoken last night. In this week's letter, he mentioned some of the challenges of keeping his zone focused on goals and his faith that this week would be even better work-wise. He believes that they will see miracles. He's a young man of enormous faith. I trust he'll see success.

What a great way to end Mothers Day. We saw our boy. We had our family together virtually. We gratefully counted our blessings as we called it a very good day.

On Baseball

Wrigley Field...hallowed ground

As a child, I wasn't much of an athlete. Let's be honest, I've never been much of an athlete in the true sense of the word at any point in my life. I'm fine with that. Athletics just didn't come naturally to me, except water skiing, which I was pretty adept at, but that's hardly a team sport. The only sport, team or otherwise, that I really tried as a kid was baseball.

Ah...baseball. I can still remember my three seasons of Little League spent in the furthest reaches of right field. My playing position should tell you something about my skill level. I remember the excitement / fear of stepping into the batter's box. The anticipation of that moment could be overwhelming. My memories of hearing the crack of my bat as it connected with the ball are a bit fuzzy. That is not because of my solid middle age, but the reality that my bat connecting with a pitch was a rarity. It was clear I was never going to the big leagues and I'm not talking about the MLB. I wasn't going anywhere beyond Little League.

My lack of baseball aptitude never quelled my love of the game. Am I a numbers-mad fan? Can I quote a player's stats, chapter and verse? No and no. Does that diminish my love of the game? Absolutely not. It's a game I get. It's a game I really like watching, whether it be at a minor league field, a Spring Training Mecca, a big league stadium, or on my TV, I'm happy to take in a game.

That said, there is something wonderful about taking in a game live. Over the years, I've been fortunate enough to see games in several pro stadiums across the country. I've been in the cheap seats (you haven't lived until you've watched the Cubs play from the general admission seats above the ivy at Wrigley) and in more than a few suites (the sushi at Yankees Stadium absolutely does not suck). Regardless of the seat, there is something uniquely American about a baseball game. Around the world, we Americans are known for our arguable inflated sense of exceptionalism and that sense translates to hope in the baseball field. There's always hope there. Even when your team has yet another terrible season, you go away saying, "There's always next season." Believe me, as someone who proudly adopted Chicago as his hometown and hence the Cubs as his team, I know of where I speak when it comes to hope for the next season.

I've really liked that as a family, we've shared this love of baseball. Seeing my kids hanging out with Manny Mota on the field at Dodgers Stadium was a highlight. Watching my daughters ask Ron Cey for his autograph when they had no idea who he was was a lot of fun. Taking in a Texas Rangers game in Arlington last year with CAL was a memory I'll forever cherish.

Opening Day was just three days ago. Baseball is back. Some people complain it's a boring game. I'm not one of them. Baseball, to me, is good memories. It is fun. It is family. It is hope. Yeah, I'm a fan.

26

26

Is not the name of the next Adele album.

A rhombicuboctahedron has 26 sides (please, nerds, can someone tell me what that rhombi thing even is?)

The atomic number of iron is 26.

God gave the Torah in the 26th generation since Creation. Who knew?

The 26th letter in the English alphabet? Z.

The age at which males can no longer be drafted in the United States is 26.

But most importantly, 26 is the birthday being celebrated today by Our Lady of Awesome, our eldest child and first-born daughter. For 26 years, I have been in awe of her (as I am all my children). She somehow managed to survive me as a very young, brand-new dad. As a newborn, she had to listen to countless versions of my senior thesis on the role of grace in Southern short fiction (try writing the paper of your life for the only Catholic English professor at BYU). She had to listen to They Might Be Giants' album Flood from the minute she came home from the hospital as I was completely obsessed with it. She did it all without complaint. She's always had a way of looking at me too, even from the time I held her that first week she spent in the NICU. She's had a look that tells me, 'Dad, I know what you're up to.' Suffice to say, she's not one of suffer fools gladly.

She's made a good life for herself. Watching she and Awesome parent their two children is a joy. They are good partners, good to one another, and good to our grandchildren. She'll celebrate this birthday surrounded by the things she loves most, family and sunshine (given that there is sunshine you'll know immediately they're not here in Connecticutistan). She deserves it.

Happy birthday, Princess, and thanks again for these two:

Blessings

As far as weeks go, this has been a good one, dare I say a very good one. Seeing CAL graduate and hearing her talk excitedly about her post-graduate internship has been so rewarding. The stunningly patient and mighty fine SML and I found ourselves counting our blessings with two of our children now official degree carrying college grads.

We continued counting blessings today. We are holed up with Our Lady of Awesome and her family for a couple of days before we move on to Phase Two of Vacation Shenanigans 2015. We joined them at Church for our sweet baby Jane's blessing. For those of you not of the 'peculiar people' faith (us Mormons), the blessing of a baby is like a christening, minus the baptismal part. What an honor it was to join my son-in-law Awesome in the blessing! It was particularly sweet that Jane wore the same dress that her mother wore when she was blessed as a baby.

It should come as no surprise that I let the man tears fly when the little church choir and congregation closed the service with "Silent Night," accompanied by both the piano and organ. Surrounded by family, a new baby, and the spirit of Christmas made it easy to count our blessings. Hence, the tears o'gratitude.

And now our day is winding down. I'm listening to my daughter negotiate dinner options with my two and a half year old grandson. From what I'm hearing, he has a bright future in hostage negotiations. My son-in-law is holding his daughter, our sweet granddaughter, and all seems right in the world.

Grandfathered

Grand, indeed.

With the arrival of our granddaughter, Jane, nearly three weeks ago, we upped the grandchild count to two. Those are not gross Duggar freakshow family numbers, but for the stunningly patient and mighty fine SML and I, two is pretty much perfection right now.

I was able to spend this past weekend with my grandchildren, my daughter and son-in-law, and as an added bonus, CAL came down. With TMFKATB just minutes away in his assigned area of missionary service, it was the closest thing to a perfect virtual family reunion that we've had for awhile. If I had to sum up the weekend in one word, it would be this: JOY.

It started as I drove down the I15, my heart swelling with joy, knowing my son was nearby, serving God and the Spanish speaking people that he has grown to love with all his heart.

The joy overflowed when I got further behind the Zion Curtain and held these two in my arms:

Happy

Holding Jane, this beautiful blend of her mother (my daughter) and my son-in-law, was awe-inspiring and life affirming. As the Boy Awesome climbed up (it was more like an assault, if I'm being honest - this kid is ALL boy) on me so we could get the picture above, my joy was complete.

Being grandfathered, unlike the unwatchable Fox series of the same name (seriously, it's hideous - Stamos' best work was on 'Full House' - and I literally just threw up in my mouth as I wrote those words), is pretty much the best thing ever. Having the Boy Awesome use me as his personal tackling dummy for the entire weekend was great. Taking him on a Grandpa/Grandson only trip to my alma mater, BYU, so we could get him a "Go Cougars!" shirt was awesome. Learning that he insisted that his sister wear a BYU shirt the day after we left made me smile from ear to ear. Here's the proof:

Never too early to be a Cougar fan!

While we were on campus, I ran into several kids from our days in Chicago. It was great to see the Boy Awesome interact with them. He particularly liked playing football in front of the Wilkinson Center with this guy (he's an elementary ed major and is going to be an amazing teacher - read more about his exploits here):

Barely got them to stop tossing the
ball to get this picture

There was also a bit of joy because it was Halloween and Grandpa got to walk around with the Boy Awesome with his dad as he worked the neighborhood in pursuit of the usual Halloween treats.

The Cowboy - the horse lasted about
half a house.

With his buddy, Captain America

Negotiating a trade with the Man in the
Yellow Hat from his favorite books,
"Curious George"

The Cowboy and the Pumpkin

Suffice to say, it was a delightful night. I suspect my smile matched the big ones carved into the pumpkins throughout the Awesomes' neighborhood. I smiled broadly later that night as I watched my daughter and her son-in-law negotiate bedtime with a two year old who was determined NOT to go to bed. As I listened to them talk to their boy, I was transported back to my own mostly futile attempts at negotiating with my three children when they were that age. These kids are a lot more skilled than I, I can tell you that.

It's fair to say I am a HUGE fan of this grandfather thing. There's a little less pressure being a grandfather, but like a father, I know I've always got to be my best self with my grandchildren. I've got to be there for them. I've got to be the grandfather talked about in this quote:

To a small child, the perfect granddad is unafraid of big dogs

and fierce storms but absolutely terrified of the word boo.

~ Robert Brault

So, to my grandchildren I say bring on the boo! Grandpa's ready to be scared

Presenting Our Baby Jane

Our Grandbaby Jane

In 1962, an American film about two not aging well has-been actresses, starring two not aging well leading ladies whose collective celebrity had long since gone the way of, oh I don't know, the Titanic, was foisted on the public. The two leading ladies? Joan Crawford and Bette Davis, just a couple of broads who detested each other, both of whom would later be remembered for their highly questionable approach to motherhood. The movie, you ask?

Whatever Happened to Baby Jane

If you've not seen it, you need to. It is a tour de force in scenery chewing. Seriously, it's an 11 on the over-the-top meter. We're talking DefCon 5, but seeing a completely nutty Bette Davis still thinking she's her child star alter ego, Baby Jane, is pretty funny stuff. Her Jane is a train wreck.

That's scary.

See what I mean? She a mess.

So why the 'Baby Jane' references? Because we now have our own Jane and she is perfect!

Our granddaughter was born yesterday, October 16th, entering the world just before 1PM, weighing 8 lbs., 3 oz., and measuring 19 inches long. She came in a pound lighter and two inches shorter than her brother, so the delivery for her mother, Our Lady Of Awesome, was a whole lot easier (spoken like a man who A) was not even there and B) has never experienced childbirth, so my editorializing is 100% worthless).  Our sweet Jane also came into the world with a whole lot more hair than her brother did. She came into this world with three generations of mothers waiting for her: her mother, her grandmother, the stunningly patient and mighty fine SML, and her great-grandmother. Although she won't remember it, Jane has been already been so richly blessed by having the three of them in the room as she was born. These amazing women will be Jane's examples, support and they will love her fiercely. Also waiting right there was her father. He will be her protector, her shoulder to cry on, and he will love her just as fiercely. Jane's brother, at two years and change, seems pretty fine with her arrival. He will soon wonder why she can't play with him yet and why he is not allowed to push the baby swing like it's a battering ram (this may take some delicate negotiating on the part of his parents). He'll soon be the one to not let any bully mess with his sister. He will love her fiercely.

I won't get to meet our sweet Jane for another two weeks (curse you, stupid, stupid work commitments!). For her, though, that's probably for the best. Let her get adjusted to this new world before Grandpa shows up, crying uncontrollably at the sight of his new granddaughter (the crying is a lock, so why pretend it's not going to happen?). Also, since 'indoor voices' is a concept I'm not a big fan of, at least she'll have had two weeks preparation before I turn up.

In the meantime, I'll just revel in pictures like these that are coming fast and furious:

Mother and daughter,
heart to heart

Sweet Jane, working the Utah do' rag

Welcome, sweet Jane, to our family. We are so glad you are here. Our joy is overflowing!

Notes from behind the Zion Curtain

Not a bad view from behind the Curtain

Thanks to a pilot who must have traded his soul to that she hag, Mother Nature, what was going to be a two-hour plus delay was only 30 minutes today, getting me back from the Zion Curtain with time to spare earlier this evening.

It was a great three day trip for me, although the stunningly patient and mighty fine SML gets eight days. I don't want to turn this into a horrible blog version of your Aunt Shirley's three week trip to the Holy Land with her friend from Bingo, Ruth, you know the one who's husband had the thyroid...you get the point. So here are the highlights:

Week Two from the Zion Curtain
Most importantly, it's Monday, which means our weekly update from TMFKATB. This week's letter was great to read. He's settling in well and is very busy. Health-wise, he feels really good and we are so grateful for that. Service opportunities abound and he's getting to work with Spanish speakers. He doesn't like arepas (he's working with several people from Venezuela and Colombia now) which was a blow to me. They are delicious. It was very odd for me to drive by the exit for the city in which he's serving on Saturday morning. When I saw it as I hurtled down the I15, I, of course, started to cry. I knew he was out there, getting ready to go to work. I resisted the urge to veer off the freeway and go find him. He's got better things to do.

The Greek Wedding
The purpose of our trip was to attend the wedding of the stunningly patient and mighty fine SML's cousin. SML grew up close to her cousins and we couldn't miss this event. Our daughters joined us so it was a mini-family reunion. Alison's wedding was in a Greek Orthodox church and it was amazing. Alison was a beautiful bride and it was so fun to see family. The whole shindig was somewhat reminiscient of "My Big Fat Greek Wedding" in a lot of ways. If I'm being honest, though, I was saddened to not see a tidal wave of Windex. The homemade Greek pastries at the wedding dinner more than made up for it. Here's some scenes from the event:

Just missing The Boy and The Grandson

The women in my life - how did I get so lucky?

Glad my hair is as gray as my suit

The Grandson
One of the bonuses of having a family wedding in the Zion Curtain is that we get to stay with The Awesomes. This means hanging out with our grandson. It doesn't get much better than that, I have to tell you. He's just turned two and has become incredibly verbal. One of my favorite parts of the trip was to hear him hollering, 'Bampa! Bampa!' Each time I heard it, his wish was my command. Whether it was riding his bike, walking his neighborhood and finding every ant on the sidewalk, swimming, or sneaking fruit snacks, we had a good time. I had to say goodbye to him last night and again, I shed a tear or two, allegedly. As I drove to Salt Lake, I muttered repeatedly to myself, 'I can't keep doing this.' It's tough to be this far away from him. From the Awesomes. From CAL. I'm turning into an old softie in my middle age. I've got to do something about that.

Riding dirty

A gift given a day early

So this just happened...

For the stunningly patient and mighty fine SML, Mothers Day came a day early. We just got off a joyous Skype session with our daughters, our grandson, our nearly twerking son-in-law, and TMFKATB, our missionary son! As he is currently in the mission office, Sunday is pretty much a work day, so he was able to call his Mom and family today. It was, in a word, sweet.

Delighted to report that he is still The Boy. He, along with four other missionaries, kicked the call off serenading his mother in Spanish with a song dedicated to moms. One of them was even playing a guitar. I can assure you that they will not be replacing One Direction or their ilk any time soon, but they were number one in the heart of TMFKATB's mom. She loved it. His spirits are good as is his attitude and outlook. He had us laughing with his singsongy accented English and his inability to remember certain English phrases. His Spanish is quite good. He has declared my Spanish, well, bad. Apparently, my Cuban Spanish and its delightful dropping of certain consonants with abandon is an offense to his Mexican-infused ears. I see a language showdown in our future.

Suffice to say, it was so good to have us all on and able to see and hear him. He is at peace. He said that time and again. We needed to know that more than words can express right now. Knowing that he is at peace, he has given his mother the best Mothers Day gift and he doesn't even realize it. It's one of those tender mercies that we are sometimes given unexpectedly. I'm going to cherish it.

Cinco de Mayo y la segunda nieta

I'd say he was fairly non-plussed by today's news

Cinco de Mayo is one of my most favorite days of the year. Even though it's not really a 'thing' in Mexico, unless you are from Puebla, and I defy you to find an American who knows what the day really stand for (and no, it has nothing to do with excessive indulgence of enchiladas and margaritas), it has been a day worthy of celebration for many years in the Den. Until we moved here, where the Iron Fist of Martha Stewart looms large and makes celebrating this day an event that must be secluded in secrecy, if at all. So I was kind of glad that I was in my Manhattan office today. My office is a block away from the Mexican consulate so I was hopeful that the infamous Tamale Lady would be out front, but she wasn't. Instead, a ridiculously good taco truck, Tacos Juquilita, had set up shop. I was able to enjoy three Mexico City street-style chorizo tacos, at Mexico City prices, not Manhattan. So it was truly a celebration all the way around.

As I was walking back to my office, reveling in the goodness that was my lunchtime celebration, I got a text from Our Lady of Awesome with the following announcement: GIRL. It was quickly followed an announcement on the Instagrams, starring a completely non-plussed almost two year old. As his mother put it, 'He doesn't know what's about to hit him. Baby GIRL coming in October. We are soo excited.' Given his expression, I think the excitement is currently reserved for his parents. And us, this baby's maternal grandparents. We are delighted to know our second grandchild is on the way and so happy that we have a little girl joining our growing crowd. Even though he doesn't look too excited, that boy is going to be an amazing big brother. One thing is for sure, that little girl will have a built in body guard with him. At the rate he's growing, he should be the size of a five year old in October and he only turns two at the end of this month!

The stunningly patient and mighty fine SML and I are so excited for our oldest daughter and her husband. It's more fun than I could have imagined to sit back and watch your own children parent. You wonder, 'Did she get that from me?' when she says something to her child. Then you wonder, 'Did we do enough to prepare all of our children for the role of parent?' Because I chose very, very wisely and married up, I rest a little easier when answering those questions.

Well, October can't get here soon enough. Can't wait to welcome that little girl into our family and to hold her and say, 'We are glad you are here. I think you're going to like it a lot!'