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…

Since my parents bought a new house and had more room and since we’d not spent Christmas Eve night at my parent’s in years, it was time. Earlier in the day Donna and Claire met us there while I pretended to help my sister cook dinner. Later after dinner, Claire didn’t want to go to bed. She was waiting for Santa, and all I was waiting for her was for her to fall asleep sdo I can drag a crapload of presents out of my parent’s basement to put around the tree. This is the first year where I had to keep two things in mind. 1) Claire would recognize if grandparent and Santa gifts came in the same wrapping paper, and 2) we cannot put any presents under the tree before she goes to sleep on Christmas Eve.

As I always expect with Claire, she never wants to go to sleep. And since it was Christmas Eve, she was even more excited than usual. By 11:00pm everyone was way sick of waiting for her to go down by herself and something had to be done. Uncle Jaime, my brother, decided to climb into the attic and take matters into his own hands.

Over the couch, through the roof, suddenly Santa and his reindeer were loudly walking around on the roof, preparing to come down one of my parent’s chimneys. (Yes, I know she’s smart, so I kept one chimney/fireplace free from a fire that night incase she asked!) Claire, sitting on the couch full dressed, looked towards the ceiling, looked around at her people and bolted to the bedroom. Donna followed her into the bedroom, as Claire grabbed her PJs and threw herself onto the bed.

“Mama, help me get changed! I need to go to sleep now! Santa’s here!” She screamed as she stripped her clothes before throwing herself into bed.

Thank you, Uncle Jaime.

My mother sent the following email out to some people today. Read for yourself.

Well, for the past several days we’ve been going back and forth with the seller of this nice level ranch home on Thomas Road in Peters Township. This morning we finally heard back that they accepted our latest bid!!! Whooooo hooooo!! Apparently there was another bid that came in late yesterday, and there was also yet another buyer who was asking to go back for another viewing. His agent told him to just take the bid, already, cause we’d gone out of way to accommodate what he needed too. Sheesh…. No idea when the closing will be. Getting our house redd up so we can put it on the market. They don’t really do that thing where they wait for you to sell your old house anymore but I think we won’t have too much trouble, even on the main road since we’ve really fixed our place up real nice.

Ok, I think it’s time to comment on this one. One day in 1984 I was walking home from school and my parents drove by. I waved them down and hopped into the car. They told me they were off to look at houses because before that we’d been renting, and it was time to move on. We went to this three story cape code on a major highway. The former former occupant had died on the first floor master bedroom and the basement had nice wood paneling. The next day I wrote the address on my wooden desk at school. This was midyear. Within a month we were moved into this new house on Curry Hollow Road. I finished grade 4-6 at two local elementary schools and spent junior high and high school in that house. I can begin to tell you some of the stories in that house, and some others will never leave my lips. I visited home through undergrad and then moved home (into the dead lady’s room) for all of grad school. My brother has lived there for 24 years now. My sister about 20. I lived there for a good part of two decades myself. The house isn’t the largest, the yard isn’t the biggest, and it’s on a highway. In 1993 I became a man in that downstairs basement. Through the early 1990s my cousin courted his now wife and mother of 3 children while spending most weekends living in that same basement. In early 1994 I got my largest tattoo to date on my parent’s dining room table in that house. In spring of 1995 the house caught fire. The basement was destroyed, half the first floor. That same basement where I was sleeping on a December morning in 1994 when I was informed my grandmother was dead. That same house where I lay in an upstairs bedroom with fever and chills in 1988 and was shortly diagnosed with Crohn’s Disease. The house where I met with my tutors through Jr High when I couldn’t go to school. The same house from which we all three graduated from high school. The home to which my sister headed after a stint in Colorado and, years early, my brother after another in South Bend, Indiana.

My parents are getting older. Dad has bad knees (over weight, skied for four decades). Mom has bad knees (baker’s cysts), bionic hip and a terrible back (sciatic and discs). Did I mention the house has three floors? You can’t even get to the living room without going up a flight of stairs or two… and in the snow and ice, it’s even worse. They need one floor.

Now, I come to say this. It looks like I will never ever be in that house again. Never. Ever. My parents are selling it. They too are moving on like Donna and I did a decade ago. They aren’t going as far. My parents are prepared to put in a bid on a single story (with a huge basement) large home in Canonsburg, PA. We shall see if they get it.

When they talked about moving, we always told them to go for it! Curry Hollow has always been small, too small for two dogs, three children, two parents, a parade of boy friends, girl friends, friend friends, and our own families now. Mum began looking more earnestly after Christmas (now that the economy sucks and you can get a good deal); she liked the Thomas Road house, but I didn’t realize my father would run our the day after tax season to look, too. When he’s ready, my father acts quickly. Too quickly almost for me right now.

My uncle (Dad’s little brother) is in town. They all went to view this Thomas Road house yesterday, and today my parents began packing our house. Yes, Ours, still. I’ve not lived there in a decade, but I am really town now between being happy for them to have the room they need and the lack of stairs, etc… but it’s like I can never go home now. There will be nothing familiar at all with it. No sleeping on the back porch in the summer, listening to New Kids on the Block and getting my ear pierced when I was 12, or the pond where I froze my snapping turtle to death by accident. Nothing. When they say you can never go home again, now I really get it.

This feels like it’s becoming a reality. We talked about new carpets for 15 years and they are doing it now… to sell our family home. We talked about new bathroom model. Now, they are doing it. The basement acoustic ceiling has been falling down for 15 years, my uncle and brother replaced it today. Today. Took 1 day. I waited 15 years, and I will never see the ceiling, the hardwood, the paint. I will get off the plane at Christmas and go to someone’s weird unrecognizable house.

Last year I had several friends & acquaintances on Flickr join a group called 366photos. This is a group where members shoot pictures every single day for the entire year. The pics could be of any subject. They then upload the photos to Flickr and tag them; then they send them to the Flickr group. Since last year was a leap year, the group is actually 366 but we’re going to just keep going. Yes, we. I have succumbed to another fun, wild, and useless thing to do. No, I don’t really think it’s useless, but hey, it’s fun. Check it out. And feel free to join us!

I almost convinced Donna to play with me, but she’s got that thing called grad school. Although, she did have a good idea. I have some odd obsession about shooting pictures of myself. I have a photo of me at the Alamo and another outside the Louvre. So I think I may try to be in every shot I take this year in the 365 day challenge. Fun?

By the way, just for giggles, here’s picture #1.

Update: Joined another group, too. Twitter 365. This one asks for self-portraits, and then we tweet the post, too!

We flew home last week, and the grandparents sure did spoil Claire this Christmas. For the past several years we’ve stayed at my parent’s house for Christmas Eve, so Claire could wake up and open gifts there. This year Donna wanted a bit of a change, and since now my sister and brother both (including my sister’s boyfriend) were all at my parent’s house, we really didn’t have a place to sleep there. On Christmas Eve we hung out around my in-laws house before heading to my parent’s house for dinner. It was me, Donna, Claire, Dad, Mum, Jaime, Meghan, Jon and Johann (not to mention the ancient mutt under foot and Cheyenne, the orange cow (as Claire calls my dad’s golden retriever who is way TOO Fat!), my mum’s cat, and my sister’s twin black cats. All crammed into a cape cod style house is enough to make my mother demand a new house before Christmas 2009.

After dinner, we three headed to our annual Christmas party at Tom and Paula’s house in West Mifflin where we’d meet up with the in-laws and brother-in-law, Danny. Claire had a great time playing with the little girl who is a year older than her; they only see each other every Christmas Eve and the last two years they’ve been old enough to care about playing with each other. After the group photo and some well wishes, we headed back to my in-laws around midnight.

When Donna and Danny were younger the family supposedly opened presents later, but now that Claire’s here, she was up and at ‘em relatively early (not as early as I liked to open when I was young!). She got some outfits, several toys (mostly educational type things), and some other gear. I bought her a blue and pink Timbuk2 customized tote, which she always told everyone were her favorite colors (until this week, when she says she now likes purple and green! Ugh). Her old swim bag was falling apart, and these bags are so well made that she can use it for years to come.

As for the wife, she’d been asking for a new digital camera. Her old one was a few years old and really sluggish. I’d been searching for the perfect one for a few months, and I finally got a great deal at CostCo. Personally, I’d been drooling over the MinoHD Flip video cameras. Donna had shown interest in one on Black Friday, but I knew for a little more I could get the nice HD model. This gift had been near the front of the pile of gifts since I’d been eager to give her one for weeks! She loved both gifts and the other little things. My in-laws got me Ebay gift cards, which’ll work well for a new sleeping bag. Danny got Donna a gift card for Sprint to buy the new purple Lotus that she keeps drooling over (she’s not gotten a new phone since 2004!). I can’t wait to get him to take her to Sprint.

Later after lunchtime, we went to my parent’s. Claire fell asleep in the car so we all opened “big people” gifts for awhile until she woke up. Donna bought me the Charlaine Harris’ (TrueBlood) vampire books; I didn’t know they came in a box set so I was totally stoked when I opened them. I got her a Timbuk2 gift card so she could order herself a bag, since she really wanted to pick her own. My parents got both of us Apple gift cards (Donna towards a new MacBook and me towards maybe Bose earphones). Claire got dolls, some clothes, etc… She got the blue cat (from Mama) and the pink doggie (from Auntie Meghan via Santa), and she was totally stoked.

Meghan and Jon made out with Wii and Rock Band 2. We hooked up the Wii and played Rock Band late into the night, but we have no idea how to unlock the codes. (Comment below if you do know. We have to cheat codes, but can’t figure out HOW to input them.)

Christmas was a blessed day with thoughtfulness, happiness and family.

Merry Christmas. Here’s my father singing O Holy Night in Karaoke. LOL.

Untitled from Devon Adams on Vimeo.

In June my family & I took Claire to Disneyworld in Orlando, FL. My sister had her Sony camera with her that my father gave her. After clicking the first photo of Claire with some random person dressed up like some random Disney character, Meghan dropped the camera to the asphalt. It immediately jammed and would not zoom. I understood the problem and explained to her that she was out of luck. Meghan was annoyed that her camera was destroyed, but I explained that we all had cameras and she’d still get photos. I also told her that I would send it away to fix it. I’d sent two other cameras in for repair over the years, and I had an idea how get the company to fix a digital camera.  She finally agreed.

I took the camera home and quickly forgot I had it for about a month. I then remembered it was there, called Sony, got a repair code, and mailed it in. At the time I was buying somethings online, so lots of stuff was coming in and going out. Consequentially, I forgot all about Meghan’s little Sony digital camera.

About five weeks later I was tucking Claire into bed and suddenly remembered the camera. I went out and asked Donna if she’d seen a box from Sony. Something sent back to us from the Laredo, TX repair center? She said she hadn’t. I was pretty worried about the $300+ camera, and I knew that Sony ships via UPS. Wanna know what I think of UPS? I can only say the company’s color is not a coincidence! The checked GMAIL and found an email from a month earlier from Sony saying it was being sent back. I get 100+ emails daily, so I just must’ve missed this one. I put the tracking number into the UPS site and it said it was delivered several weeks ago.  I went to bed that night unhappy and worried. I wanted to call Sony immediately but it was late. The next day I called UPS and they weren’t any help. They said it was Sony’s fault not there’s. This made no sense since Sony said they sent it, and they had a tracking number. UPS told me that Sony had to initiate any lost package claim. So I called Sony. Sony said they had no idea what I was talking about, and if it was anyone’s fault then it was the Laredo, TX repair center’s fault. The lady put me on hold and tried to call them. She quickly came back and told me they weren’t answering and I’d have to call them myself. I don’t even think she had time to dial a number in Texas.

I quickly thanked her, scribbled down the number, and thought about how I would nail them on the customer service survey. I didn’t care to talk to anymore Sony idiots today, so I shoved the number in my pocket and went about my job. Later that day, I pulled into our driveway and walked around the front sidewalk. I pushed back the edge of our bush next to the front door. Low and behold, a tattered, moist, dirty UPS box sat under the bush near the door. Oops.

My mother was an artist when she was younger. For years I had a sculpture she made in high school, I remember paintings she use to do, and in the ’70s she use to airbrush Harley gas tanks (yes, for motorcycles. yes, my mother). Her artistry rubbed off on me, albeit my medium of choice is oils. I love the way I can mix the colors on the canvas and create whatever’s in mind. I am unsurprised that Claire’s got the same flair. Don’t get me wrong her Mama’s got some, too, but Claire’s beginning young. Yeah, I know, all kids play with crayons and such, but there’s something a bit different with how Claire does her art. Something more familiar like watching yourself from outside your body far far ago.

Last week we were in my classroom, and Claire drew across my entire board as high as she could reach. She then turned to me and asked how to spell her friend Eli’s name. I told her, and she proceeded to write "Claire" and then "Eli". I even love the little stick man in between the two. This amazes me. She’s three, folks. I don’t remember doing quite this well in ‘77.

I suppose all of us are mortal. When I was 12 I began getting sick, to the point where I could not eat without vomiting. No, it’s not the most exciting thing to discuss, but that’s me. My doctor swore I had Leukemia (because my iron was so damn low), and they wanted to admit me to the hospital immediately. I obviously didn’t have Leukemia because that was 22 years ago, and I’m still here. I also didn’t have health insurance (Dad’s self employed and mom was a stay-at-homer).

Needless to say I went home that day, and my mother went straight to college to get a degree. My sister was 6 at the time, so it wasn’t like there were little ones at home anymore. They diagnosed me with Crohn’s Disease later that fall and thus began my life with illness. Medical technology and age has been good to me over the years, but I truly am defined by illness.

I never really even understood the mortality of my parents until my father had a heart attack. I cried and cried and cried. I was already living in Arizona at the time and my perspective on time is a pendulum. I always either, A) believe I have all the time in the world to be with him, or B) want to drive back "home" now and stay put.

In the last week both my father and I have had chunks of skin and flesh cut from our bodies. Dad had some sort of carcinogen cut from his forehead, and I joke with my mother than he probably looks like Harry Potter now. I’ve had moles since I’ve been in AZ (and no it has nothing to do with the sun, since I don’t get that much), and I was finally referred to a dermatologist. Today she cut the largest mole from the area that I can only refer to as my "boob". Yes, I am not skinny. Yes, I’ve got man boobs. Deal with it. Dad does too. So this lady’s there cutting away at a large mole (think pencil eraser diameter and go a little larger) from my boob while we’re making small talk. Don’t quite remember the discussion. But it reminded me of James Morrow’s book Towing Jehovah when God fell into the ocean, dead. They towed his body to the Arctic so he didn’t decompose, but along the way the people got hungry, so they cut large chunks from his chest (talk about communion!). This is how I felt (no I don’t have a God complex…. atleast I doubt it) today in the doctor’s office.

I just wish I had a camera with me!