We’ve been working hard in the yard (which is an entirely different blog post) and the gate was opened and closed all day Sunday. Most of the time Dante, our dog, was in the dog run but Claire kept letting him out to play with him. We would tell her to put him away, but … well, we all know Claire.

Around 6:00pm Claire and I ran out for a birthday party and got home late. Dante usually sits under Donna’s feet or under the coffee table, so I barely blinked and went to bed. The next morning Claire and I were out the door early and I started getting the texts from Donna about 8:30am. “Dante’s missing!”

By that time Donna had been driving the neighborhood looking for him. Dante’s a very social dog and so he’d be running out to people who were walking dogs and catching school buses; he was doing none of this.

Donna was pretty upset so I headed home at my first break. Immediately I called our vet to find Dante’s chip number (under his skin between his shoulder blades). They didn’t have the number, which concerned me. I called Maricopa Animal and the didn’t even have him registers (ever). Oooppps. I finally did find the chip # and the company who chipped him said they’d send out a pet apb if we paid the full enrollment. It was $17.00 and we didn’t want to explain to Claire that her dog was missing, so we bought it.

I then made fliers, hung them on stop sign poles and light posts all over the neighborhood. I also stuffed doors and talked to people for two hours. Nothing. It was hot, and I was tired; I also needed to get back to work.

Before I took off, I called the Chandler Police Department. They told me to post on Pets911.com and also on Craig’s List. I headed back towards work, grabbed take away lunch, and then drove towards work. As I got close, my mobile rang.

I said hello and a woman’s voice said “did you get your dog back?” I told her “No”, and she responded that she’d seen my ad on Craig’s List. Then she said she saw another ad about a “Found Dog” that looked just like mine on the same street where I lost mine, half an hour after I lost mine. She gave me the guy’s number and I thanked her profusely before leaving him a voice mail.

Donna quickly found the ad online and we confirmed it was our dog happily posing for the camera in some stranger’s house. Eventually Robert, the stranger, called us back and said Dante was very happy and had had a bath (he was playing outside all week with us working in the yard). We made arrangements to pick him up after work.

Claire, Donna and I went over (about 15 houses away from our own),and I also rid to give him money for his troubles. He refused it and said someone once did the same thing for him when his dog got away. He’s a great guy and gave Dante a huge hug before he left. We did talk to Claire about the gates and listening to her parents, but we sure are relieved that Dante the Dog Adams is home and safe.

Claire, the 4 year old, has a fascination with Farmville. Mama taught her to play and she can navigate the farms better than many adult players. This is a shot I popped off the other evening as she quietly fertilized her neighbors farms by herself while we cooked dinner.

Recently Claire and her classmates were asked what their favorite books are. Claire said her favorite book is “Dante’s Journey”, which is a cute little children’s book we purchased for her in Florence, Italy last summer. It’s a cute little children’s book where Dante’s a little boy and goes through this land with Virgil, his doll. One level includes people who lie and what happens, and so there are these positive messages. She was excited to take this book to class, and at the end of the day, I asked her how it went. She said she wasn’t allowed to share her book “because it’s too scary.” She told me that her teacher said that, then i wondered if her teacher bothered to actually read the book. Perhaps she just saw the darker images or the child walking through a land that was depicted to be hell. Her teacher had the book put away where the kids could not see it.

So now we censor in kindergarten? It’s a child’s book, for God’s sake. It explains why you should not be greedy, why you should not lie, etc… It shows consequences. It’s not the original Dante’s Inferno (which they do teach in schools), so why censor? The kids read Where the Wild Things Art (at this age and younger) with their monsters gnashing their terrible teeth, etc…

So far I have kept my mouth shut, chose my battles and took the book home. But it still bothers me. How much censorship shall my daughter and I go through in her education over the next 13 years?

The day Donna knew she was pregnant one of the first thoughts that went through my mind was driver’s licenses and prom dresses. None of the thoughts had to do with kindergarten. Last week, it was the only thing on my mind as Claire and I went off to register for school. Originally we considered her attending an elementary school near my work but we don’t know what the future holds so recently we spoke to friends whose son attends an elementary school about a mile from our house. They only had great things to say about the school and both are teachers.

So we checked out the school and realized that if Donna were to drive to or from school, this elementary would be so much more convenient for our family. We stopped in one day to pick up the paperwork and we took it home. It was odd to fill it out because it was the same exact paperwork the students fill out at my high school.

Together Claire and I drove the paperwork over to the school; as we exited the car she took the packet from me to take inside. I shot a few photos and followed her in. We met with the attendance clerk and turned in all of her paperwork. The woman said Claire needed to take a placement test, and we asked what it entailed. She said Claire would be asked to identify her colors; Claire’s response was “do you want me to spell their names, too?” Very very fun.

Some of you may have read the previous post about my turtle, Baby Einstein Buddy Killer George Cooter I about a quarter-sized Painted Turtle a friend handed me in 1996 upon our return for the Fall semester. I kept the turtle in a small fishbowl in the dorm, hiding it from the RA and others. For lack of a better name, I called it “Baby” and later added Einstein after my favorite dead guy. Others who helped care for the turtle chose different names, then, a few years back, my male turtle laid an egg. Shortly thereafter, all other names were disbanded and she’s been Georgia (or Georgia Girl) ever since. It’s only fair seeing that we’re pretty sure only girl turtles lay eggs.

So, as the distance between college life and adulthood passes, my infatuation with Einstein has subsided. I’ve always had a thirst for knowledge and enjoy the challenge of learning new things. This trait has been passed to my child, who incessantly asks questions and actually retains my responses for future conversation. Today I taught her the numbers 1 through 1 quadrillion in tens and how to properly place commas in large values. We also did a subtraction problem which she got right! OK, she used her fingers, but did so on her own accord. She also completed her first Soduku (kid’s version) puzzle, so today was quite intellectually successful.

It seems that despite my attempt to mature beyond childhood idols, the past has a sneaky way of creeping back into the present. And so it happens that my daughter has acquired a new title as the family’s budding Einstein.

Clooney is Clooney. He’s good, he’s natural and he can act. I was hesitant to see Up in the Air as it just looked like a romantic comedy for him to bring home a paycheck; and most of the way through the film I still felt this way. Frankly, I only saw this one because it is up for six awards including Best Picture and two Actress in a Supporting Role noms for Vera Farmiga and Anna Kendrick. Of course, it’s also up for Writing, Directing and for Clooney.

Sitting through a good portion of this film, I was pleased by the concept of single man whose real “home” is on the road flying around the USA firing people for a living and then Kendrick, fresh out of college, comes along to his company and flips Clooney on his head. At first she’s annoying, but she grew on me. I’d seen Kendrick in other things like (God forbid) The Twilight films and she was forgettable, but here, she’s good. Really good. Perhaps it’s because she plays against Clooney or maybe because she was given a role where she could actually act. I bet by now, you realize Kendrick, for me, is the shining exception to a ho hum film.

Farmiga worked very well as the love interest for Clooney, and I couldn’t take my eyes off her of look. There’s something just classy and traditional about her without being too usual.

***Spoilers below.***

But I did say, I saw these things through most of the film. Then we his the big climax and give away. What I liked about the scene where Clooney finally realizes his “love” for Farmiga and rushes off to her home (a brownstone in Chicago, much unlike his hotels and airplane seats) is that the audience doesn’t expect it. Seconds before he knocks on the door, I knew it was a bad idea.

As Farmiga puts it the next and last time they speak, he was her escape. She escaped away from her family to him while ironically she finally is the realization for him that he could be grounded happily. Beyond that Kendrick rushes off to pursue her real dreams with Clooney’s blessing, and his boss puts him back in the sky (played with some aplomb by a bearded Justin Bateman).

Clooney’s chances of winning against Jeff Bridges will be though since he really didn’t do much with this film other than play himself.

As for what it’ll win. We’ll see. Precious has too much hype for Mo’Nique to not be in the running, and two actresses for the same film make this problematic. Precious also butts heads with Up in the Air for both Screenplay and Best Picture, so personally I think Up in the Air will be grounded before the race even begins.

Had Farmiga and Clooney lived happily ever after, this film would’ve been as stale as a mid-America hotel room.

cc licensed flickr photo shared by Daniel Semper

My name is Salmon. Like the fish. First name Susie.

Ah, and with those words, one of my most beloved novels has come to the big screen.

Gotta tell you that with all my film reviews, spoilers may occur. Deal with it. If you’ve not already read this wonderful book, go do it and then come back.

In 2005 I wrote a novel about a dead girl living through the lives of those still alive in her high school. A book where you don’t even discover how she dies until the waning pages. At the time, several people mentioned a little book to me called The Lovely Bones that I should read since it sounded like I was copying Alice Sebold. I assured them I wasn’t, wrote my entire book, and then picked up this gem.

I adored the irony of the conclusion to the novel and subsequent film, but I was hesitant to push this one towards my wife. See, my own daughter was just born and the rape scene before the murder still haunts me. I suggested that my wife never read the book because of that scene, and I sure have read some wild stuff over the years.

I had no idea how Peter Jackson, director, would handle this early scene, which, in part, was based on the author’s own experience in college. Fortunately, it was unlike my novel but anyway I still fell in love with such a wonderful book. After hearing it was on its way to the silver screen, I waited patiently. And waited. And waited. Wow, did I wait for a long time. But today I got to see it.

That rape scene? Cut out and barely even implied (and maybe I only thought it was implied because I knew the narrative beforehand).

Awards season is upon us and art direction stood out for me, to the point where it didn’t stand out which was perfect. There were a few scenes where I paid particular attention to the authenticity of the frame and I was pleased. The costumes (especially Ronan’s outfit) worked very well for me, and this “era” just worked for me.

People always talk actors when reviewing any film, and I went knowing that Tucci has been getting rave reviews for this film (and has been nominated in several awards so far). I didn’t realize quite how wonderful his performance was until he spoke in the film. He almost fell into the character to the point where I no longer watched Tucci. I watched a sad, depressed killer. He played it perfectly subtlety.

Even the subtlety of his lightened eye color, whose similarity to Ronan’s mesmerizingly pale blue, didn’t escape me. As for Ronan, I was lost in those eyes, albeit I’ve never seen her previous work for which she’d been nominated for an Academy Award. While Ronan’s performance here has the critics talking, for me, Rose McIver as Lindsay Salmon, Susie’s younger sister, stole the film. McIver began as the younger child like sister but after Susie’s death Lindsay matures into a woman, almost as obsessed with finding the killer as her father Mark Wahlberg is. Her onscreen transformation worked very well through the development of the plot, and I am eager to see her future dramatic work.

I enjoyed Wahlberg’s performance perhaps because I too am close to my daughter, Sarandon was hilarious as Susie’s boozy, chain-smoking grandmother but I never stopped wanting to shout “Damnit, Janet!” at the screen. Weisz and Imperioli round out the class. I enjoyed Imperioli’s role (no matter how small it was) but Weisz’s talents were terribly under used. Having seen much of her former work, I expected more from the role although I did understand that Susie’s mother’s healing required her to fall into herself.

I agree with the critics that Peter Jackson could’ve done more with the film and the special effects were well done (more than half of the film was a blue screened Susie-styled purgatory) but the film, if nominated for an Oscar for special effects, cannot beat Avatar in this category.

As with any book made film the critics will lambast certain perspectives and lack of development, and my only concern really lay in the characters of Ruth Connor and Ray Singh. If memory serves Sebold gives more time to these two characters, and while Singh moves in and out of the narrative as Salmon’s almost first love, his relationship with Ruth and then Ruth’s posthumously relationship with Susie could’ve been more fleshed out. Here was my single disappointment with the film. Albeit Jackson’s subtlety of the relationship of the two living teens works well and did well to not overshadow Susie’s tale. Moreover, while the irony of Tucci’s demise is not lost on Sebold or Jackson, some audience will leave the theatre scratching their heads; hopefully, to only return again and again to see this wonderful film.

Back when I was in high school one of the cool things to do junior and senior year (read: after I got a car) was to hit local shows. I knew several guys in bands back then, and Friday night’s usually found us at the Lithuanian Country Club. What it really was was a small track of land off a windy road near a highway owned by some Lithuanian club (think Elk’s Club but scarier) of old guys. They never used it at night and would rent the basement and barn out for shows. So come the weekend we’d find ourselves in the smoky basement or out in the chilly barn (where there was more room for more talented acts.. & bigger audiences).

After two years of this and bands coming and going, I went off to Penn State and began following bands like Velveeta and Jealous Sun (my first website I ever developed was for this band, now way defunct. Look for Jeff VanFossen, the lead singer, online). More smoky bars (no more basements for me!) and good, raw music. Then I grew up. I moved to Arizona and Dan and I hit the local scene. At first, it was supposedly all about Scottsdale (sorry! Don’t sue us. We weren’t locals then.) We saw Rock Lobster, and they were cool. Then we saw Roger Clyne and the Peacemakers, and I was really confused because wasn’t that a Refreshments song they were playing, and then I finally got to the point where it didn’t matter; Roger rocks, and that’s it.

But then it was less and less about the shows and more about the music. We got old. Fridays and Saturdays were about sleeping after 4am mornings all week, and we had kids. Kids who didn’t understand that 4am on Saturday or Sunday was still 4am!

Now, it’s 2010. I am going to be 36 this year, and a few months ago I had the opportunity to see Roger Clyne & the Peacemakers of the first time in a few years. I almost blew it off, but something dragged me out there. I took my camera and shot the whole show, and I loved it. Something about being up there, the music, the people, everything.

When one of my students asked me to come out to his show, I actually didn’t give a lame ass answer of NO. I considered it. This was a cool guy who I knew has so much potential, so I checked when, I checked my calendar, I checked who could go with me, and I paid for the tickets. I asked if I could bring my camera, and I eagerly agreed to shoot the show. The band is young and needs promo pics and a demo, so I was willing to help out (didn’t even consider asking for money, as I know they don’t have any… hell, maybe they’ll make it big and pay me in 10 years).

Friend backed out but I was still on for the show. It was a strip mall store front. Looked like the place, called The Clubhouse, in Tempe bought a few stores and broke down the walls between them and then painted the front glass black. Not too much to look at, but for $10 and five bands, I was there to support. In line, I felt like a sore thumb. I could tell who was a parent pretending to not know the dark dressed emo/skater/thrasher/whathaveyou kid nearby. The kids behind me were pulling half smoked cigarettes out of an ashtray and burning the butt ends to get rid of germs before smoking them. (Was I ever that lame in highschool?)

I got in as the band took the stage. Sick But Beautiful is the name Alex picked for the band, and he told me he played guitar and back up singer. It was more like screamer, but it wasn’t that Screamo crap I hear about. This was more like way edgier Linkin Park with Shinoda and Bennington upfront. I was surprised. Not because I didn’t have faith in Alex, but because I was actually enjoying the music. This was one of their first gigs and they went on first of the night, so they only had about four songs. I shot straight through their set through some terrible lighting (had to punch down the iso to 3200 just to get some shots), and I even leaned against the stage so the moshers who kept running into my back wouldn’t jar my shots.

After the show, I hung around and pretended to care about the next band. They were in the same vein but I didn’t have anything invested in them, so I snuck out. Then I remembered who I was. I called the wife from the car to see if the kid was asleep, and while I did that, club security knocked on my window to make sure I wasn’t some kid doing drugs between sets in the parking lot. Ah, how fun it was to drive back to adulthood.

So, one day I was sitting at my desk studying and freezing my butt off. Apparently wearing coo-lats and a t-shirt don’t suffice in an Arizona winter with the ceiling fan stuck to ‘on’. I went into the bedroom and grabbed a pair of knee high rainbow striped toe socks. Then I remembered that I’d be picking up the neighbors an hour later… Oh, well I thought, it’s not like I’ll have to get out of the car or anything…

So, I drive to Sky Harbor Airport and use the cell phone connection to determine my neighbors’ whereabouts. After their baggage is corraled, we meet up outside the south entrance. There is a struggle as the stuff goes in the trunk and I realize my neighbor is in a bit of pain. I hop out to help lift the larger bag and support the old foggies and such … then notice the dude fiddling with his phone. Odd. Oh shit, he’s taking my pic. I look down, then hop back in the car quickly.

The conversation on the way home encompasses my choice of sockwear and we have an interesting discussion regarding fashion faus paus. Yeah, mine. Just. Mine.

My pic ends up posted on Twitter and there is an inside joke circulating about my affiliation with knee high socks. Joy. Pure joy ensues…

However, I am one to see the silver lining amongst the, well crap, I suppose. After a few jokes appear on Twitter, I notice I’m being followed by Chrissy @kneehighsocks09. Awesome! fashion followers.

Shortly thereafter Chrissy sends a direct message that she’d like to send me free socks to review on my blog. Hell yeah! No contest. Free shit rocks! Plus, I collect socks. What can I say. Warm feet rock. Cold feet make me want to shake and cry and huddle under a rock. Essentially, I said yes, please and got notice that the socks were en route.

Now, let’s note that Donna rarely gets packages. Also, let’s note that Donna never gets free stuff in the mail. Both of which make Donna happy. So, let’s just imagine Donna hopping around the house, through the entryway, down the hallway, into her office, etc. with pure joy eminating from her inner being when the package came. You can’t ask for much more than free stuff you actually like and can use.

So, next came the unveiling. One pair: pink and grey. Cool colors, alright, moving on. Next pair: green with white stripe at the top. Alright. also cool. Tube socks are a bit of a worry, but the color is spot-on with my inner Irish chick. Third pair: black argyle with RED accents. Crap. Red. Should’ve mentioned to Chrissy that red is my least favorite color. But, well, I kinda’ like them. (Don’t tell al the people who know I hate red, it will ruin my reputation). The argyle ones also have a foot shape, which is appealing.

Now, when to wear them. Hmmm. Work this week. Nothing to match. What to do?

Priorities overwhelm. Work interferes. Etc. What can I say?

A week passes, then I’m sitting at my desk planning the weekend and wondering how all will get down with the activities I have planned. Then I look to my left and notice the socks. They stare at me with a power I cannot decribe in words. I know that I am behind in what is to be a regret if I do not comply in an appropriate manner. Yes, folks, this is an inside conversation that few with recognize because few of you understand Type A behavior with an obsessive compulsive hook.

Anyhow, I realize that the zoo is a perfect opportunity to wear my first pair of Chrissy’s Knee Socks. I plan my day, move on, and get some sleep.

Now, I must say that in the pandemonium that ensued the next morning, I had doubts and slipped a spare pair of socks into my female-purse (you know, man purse, but for chicks). It was not needed. See below. I rocked the socks. Pink and grey with my pink “Ciao Bello” shirt from Italy. Love it. Was worried about the tube sock shape, but it was not an issue. Also, they stayed up! I did not expect them to. Granted, they did not exactly reach my knees, but they did go pretty far up the calf. Additionally, the socks did not have that elastic that sucks the blood flow out of your extremities. The comfort was perfect. After a couple hours, the one started to be affected by gravity, but it was not an annoyance. I jerked it back upright and all was well. The tube shape was not a factor and, quite frankly, I’m still wearing this pair as I write. At this point, they’ve been keeping my ankles company, but I don’t care. I’ve enjoyed my socks today and that’s not something I get to say on a daily occasion.

Chrissy, you rock! I can’t wait to wear my next two pairs. More to follow…

Before Christmas break I informed Claire’s karate instructors that she would be out for two weeks for our trip back east. Since I knew tip testing was right when she returned, I asked her instructor if i could video record the steps. We video taped it, and it looks really hard. She had to do a jump kick and something that looked like a flying front kick. It looked terribly tough.

The first week I forgot about the video, but then I sent it over to Donna and I’m not even sure if Claire’s papa really saw it. Claire just wanted to be silly over break and would only kick and hit to mess around. So, mostly she didn’t practice.

When we returned this weekend, I resigned myself to the fact that she’d probably not get a tip this month and definitely wouldn’t have enough time in to get a new belt. Today I took her home early so she and I could watch the video and try to practice before class tonight. When watching the video, Claire kept trying to do everything backwards because she was standing towards her instructor’s video. She couldn’t get the whole concept of the reflection of the video.

I kept trying to get her to let me show her how to do it, and she kept getting frustrated. She began getting irate and was yelling about how she knew how to do it. I challenged her to show me the moves, but she kept refusing. I finally just took her to class and stopped trying. We had a few errands to run before class, so we got there very early. She was able to watch the classes before hers but she rather played. She kept telling me to leave her alone and she was being really stubborn. I tried to get her to watch the tip testing in the class immediately before hers, but she was yelling and kept trying to get away. I was so mad I was going to spank her and drag her out of there before her class or I’d just let go.

I let her go and she ran onto the mat for her class. I didn’t even watch at first, but then they were practicing the moves. She kept screwing around and her teacher had to stand there with her. Then it was finally tip testing time.

She got up there when it was her time, jumped into position and immediately did the entire routine almost perfectly. Her teacher asked her to repeat her kicks, which she did as best as a 4 1/2 year could. He congratulated her (and not everyone was passing!), gave her high five and sent her back to her seat. She immediately flipped around and gave me a look that said, “What was the worry?”

As she smirked, I couldn’t help but chuckle under my breath. After the last kid tested, they all came out to get drinks, and she walked up to me with her hand on her hip and literally said “See Dada, I told you so.”

(Epilogue: It also turned out she has enough hours in to belt test for her white/blue/white belt this weekend.) Oh boy.