This past weekend I was off at PodCampAZ while Claire and Donna were home. Claire was excited because it began to rain on Saturday, which never happens in Arizona. She ran inside, put on her bathing suit and rain suit, and then ran outside. She played for awhile in her play set area where we have artificial grass (the rest of the yard is mostly dirt (err…. mud)). After that got boring, she decided to play in the mud. This continued until she was pleasantly covered in mud. And as she rubbed mud up and down her arms until she looked “brown”, she called out “look I look like “. She repeated that with her other friends who are African American.

When I was in college in multi-cultural education, the professor wanted us to describe people not by skin color but by hair color, etc… If I got a room full of people and thirty are white and one is black, I sure the hell ain’t gonna say “the man with the black hair” instead of saying “that black dude”. That’s crap. I am a white boy and the first to admit it, but see, I get it. I get what “they” think we should say and not say, but little people aren’t with it, yet.

Does it make me insensitive if I describe someone as brown if they are, in fact, brown? Black? White? etc … How’s this different than saying “the red-head” or “guy with beard”.? It’s not. It’s all in meaning. If you’re talking about someone’s race in a negative way and use him or her as an example, then WTF. You suck. If you’re literally describing someone and that’s what he or she looks like, well then who the hell cares? Not me.

But, as I said before, my 4 1/2 year old sure doesn’t know the difference, so how do I balance between her learning stereotypes of race and neutrally describing friends, like the few “brown” kids at school? In the car on the way home, when we’re discussing school, I’ve specifically not talked about color of people. But she sure does know (you’re an idiot if you pretend to not notice!). I don’t have an answer for you, but it’s something to think about.

Yesterday I headed out really early to grade at Lux Coffeebar in Phoenix, and while I was gone Donna made me a “Honey Do List” that got longer the longer I was gone. By 12:30pm I expected a book and got home to two pages of notes. One of the items on the list was to sweep the roof. Yes, the roof. Of the house. We have these huge pine trees that’ve seen better days and were shedding all over our roof. We don’t have gutters here in Arizona but we also don’t have precipitation to help clean off the roofs, so up the ladder I went.

Claire watched mildly amused as I climbed up this A frame ladder with my trusty broom. It was one of those ungodly hot and sunny Indian summer weekends. I climbed to the very top of the ladder, reached out for the edge of the roof, got my knees up, and pulled myself onto the roof. I made my way up and over the roof to where the needles were in large piles.

As I began to sweep, Claire’s little head popped up over the edge of the roof as if to say “what’s up, dad?” In cases like this, the best thing to do is not freak. I calmly walked to her as she stood on the edge of her heels 30 feet off the solid ground. I took her wrist tightly and helped her sit down in a safe place.

As I finished sweeping the roof, I wondered why I didn’t bring my cell phone up there with me. After I was done, I half held her-half walked her to where I could bang the broom on the edge of the patio until Mama came out of the house.

Once she saw Claire on the roof and the space between the ladder and the roof initially, she climbed the ladder and reached out for Claire. We got Claire down off of the roof and reminded her that she was four years old and not invincible.

After spending way too much time in recovery after throat surgery, I had to get out of town. October and November are some of my favorite times living in Arizona because the weather drops from 100 degrees to about 60. Nights drop incredibly and day times are short sleeve weather. After fall break when we return to work, it’s dark when I drive into work and dark when Claire gets out of karate and swim several of the week nights.

Over break I wasn’t really cleared for travelling or even lifting anything but by the third week in October, I had to get out of town. I put on my calendar “getting out of town” and told Donna to get in the truck if she wanted to go. I’d planned a trip to either Willow Springs Lake or Christopher Creek to go camping, and then I contacted the park ranger. She suggested we stay in Christopher Creek because the rim (where the lakes are) were close to freezing temperatures at night.

Throughout the week, Donna became sicker and sicker to the point where she and Dante decided to stay home. (I sure didn’t want them in the tent breathing on me!) Friday Claire and I headed north up the Beeline Highway through Payson, stopped at Subway for lunch and then headed into the woods. Christopher Creek campground was pretty dead, and we wanted to be close enough to the pit toilets that she could go alone but far enough so it didn’t smell too bad. We ended up at the same campsite where we camped the first time she’d ever gone in Oct 2008. We set up camp, paid our $16 (??!) a night, and hung out. As the sun dipped behind Christopher Mountain, it got chillier outside. We made a nice fire and hunkered down in our warm clothes. Claire just kept asking over and over again for Smores, but I told her we had to eat dinner first. We had hotdogs and then later Smores. At about 8:00 o’clock she said she wanted to go to bed so I took her into the tent, but I suddenly realized that there were no adults there so I didn’t have anything to do after she went to bed. I read my magazine in the tent for a little while but it hurt by back so I too went to bed at 8. By 7am we were awake and frigid. Sleeping didn’t bother me in the cold, but it was waking up cold that sucked. I had Claire climb into my bag with me and we told each other stories for an hour before braving the even colder air outside the tent.

We made a small fire to make our oatmeal, and we hung out around camp. I wanted to hit the General Store in Christopher Creek but didn’t think it’d be open too early. We headed over there after 9am and the lady was talking to Claire. After discovering she was 4, she said they were having a Halloween costume parade and trick or treating that night at the local fire department. I said we might be back.

Claire and I wanted to see some fall color, so we drove up a dirt road to some trails where there were Red Maples with leaves still. I was worried that we were about a week late for the leaves, but we definitely saw some back by the creek. She complained about walking even though we were going through a flat meadow, until I realized she needed to go to the bathroom. She freaks out with outhouses but when you gotta go, you gotta go. She finally dropped trou and went on the side of the trail. I buried it and put rocks over the area before we crossed the creek to climb what I thought was a small hill. Turned out it was more like a small mountain. We headed up this thing and I had to toss Claire on my head so she wouldn’t roll down the hillside. The problem was the leaves were very slippery, so we made it about 10′ and found a spot where a blanket of red leaves rolled down the hillside. She and I made like we were sledding and got back down near the creek.

We eventually made it back to the car, salvaged some wood from burn piles that night’s fire, and headed up to the top of Mogollon Rim to Woods Canyon Lake. We got some worms and hoped to fish. After about two hours of not a single bite we decided to head back to camp so Claire could change before the trick or treating. The fire hall was pretty empty when we arrived, and I told Claire to just tell everyone that she was going as a “camper” since she had no costume. After we grabbed some free hotdogs more people began coming, and it turned out that this evening was a big deal. Many people like us were valley people who drove up just for the evening. After the costume parade, they loaded the kids into trailers behind fire pickups and drove us through Christopher Creek to all the cabins. We were out there for about three hours, filling a large bag with candy. Claire loved it, and I’d consider taking her back next year (with a costume this time!)

I had an Arizona Highways magazine at home about cool drives in Arizona, and one of those drives was the 300 Rim Road between 260 and 87. It’s a dirt road that literally runs parallel to the top of the Rim for about 55 miles, and I figured we might find some nice photos of yellow Aspen at the top. Donna and I had made the drive years ago but only part way in to camp. This time I was determined that Claire and I were going all the way across.

Sunday morning we packed the tent and got on the road north after a nice breakfast at Creekside Restaurant. On the 300 we passed right by the Woods Canyon Lake cutoff, which is usually as far as we go. This time I was determined to drive all the way. The road immediately went from paved to dirt and gravel. ATVs and dirt bike riders flew by, and I put my zoom lens and camera next to me on the seat of the truck. Claire was half preoccupied with hiding some of the night before’s candy in the back seat, but she kept putting her window up and down to watch the dust and trees. Occasionally I stopped to get some photos along the Rim and ended up at several key points along the way. I almost drove back to Knohl Lake to check it out, but I wanted to get to Strawberry at a decent hour to see my friend Alan.

There were several campgrounds along the way that we checked out, but I like sites that have a creek or lake close by. I was also hoping to see elk or coyote but we barely even saw any birds. I think Claire enjoyed the ride, and we did find a few stands of yellowed leaf aspen. I shot a few hundred pictures before we pulled onto 87 towards Strawberry.

Alan lives in the woods, and he’s never really home; this weekend he just happened to be there so Claire and I stopped at his cabin for a bit before driving into Payson where our friend’s have a cabin (it’s more like their second house). They weren’t there and later said we missed them by minutes (but I know I drive faster than them and we take the same highway home). We rolled into Chandler a few hours later, after our 350 mile, three day adventure together.

We’re sitting around at dinner, eating our pasta, and Claire blurts out, “My friend, Hannah’s name is a palindrome!” Then Mama asked her if she knew what a palindrome even is, and she said matter-of-factly, “Yes, since Hannah has two Hs, two As, and two Ns in her name.” Yes, Claire, of course. Of course.

My wife and I decided to take Claire, our 4 1/2 year old, and her 6 year old friend to see Where the Wild Things Are today. Wow, I think I would’ve rather stuck hot nails in my eye sockets. I won’t posit to suggest I am not about to give stuff away; read at your own pace. The whole opening sequence was really hard to watch and disturbing. The mom, played by Catherine Keener (who I can barely stand in anything), works long jobs and seems clueless, except when she has Mark Ruffalo over to dinner (for frozen corn?!) and to snog with. The only mention of Max’s dad is a globe that’s engraved from him, but there’s nothing about him at all except that this kid comes from a broken family. The sister, named Claire, and her friends have a snowball battle with Max (who by the way instigates it). He loses the battle and cries about it, as Claire leaves with her friends. Big deal. Then kids freaks out because Mom is snogging Ruffalo and bites her on the shoulder. You know what he needs? A spanking and maybe a therapist. Instead, he runs away.

He gets to a land Where the Wild Things Are, and they have cute human names like Carol and Donald. They also sound human. He arrives as Carol is having his own temper tantrum and tearing down everyone’s houses because his girlfriend left the community. (Wouldn’t you if your man threw temper tantrums?). Max brings a new element to the group and of course he pretends to be almighty, so they elect him “king”. He runs around with them for who knows how many days (there are more sunrises and sunsets in the film than stars in the sky; the beat each other, rip trees out of the ground, and are annoying. KW, the girlfriend comes back, and everything is all happy-like for about half an hour in the film. Then Max is paranoid that Carol is going to discover he’s not really a king, so he wants to make a secret compartment where he can hide while sleeping, away from his “friend”. Of course Carol gets pissed off and rips Donald’s arm off!! Yes, a kids movie, everyone. I sure bet the kids love that part. In this big fight KW decides to leave again (sure, sure, she’s said that before), and in the morning Max decides to go home. He leaves a heart made from sticks for Carol (which I suppose means, it’s ok that you’re an abusive asshole). He leaves the group and they just stand there as he floats away (no, there is not any resolution with the group). He goes back across the “seas”, lands, and runs home to his mother. She, of course, is waiting. She cries, feeds him, and she falls asleep at the table while he’s stuffing his face. The end. Ugh.

Side note. Later in the day, my daughter threw her own temper tantrum, bit a huge hole in my wife’s wrist, and yelled that she was going to run away from home to where the wild things are. Great, Spike Jones. Awesome. Thanks a lot.

Claire and I drove over to Changing Hands Bookstore today to pick up a copy of the new children’s book by Peter Yarrow of Peter, Paul and Mary fame. He’s going to be at Changing Hands on Sunday signing and singing. This conversation below is a true story.

As we walked in the door:

Claire, “Dad, what’re we doing here?”

Me, “Getting you a book.”

Claire, “Awesome! I love books. Which one?”

Me, totally clueless, having no idea the name of the book. “Dunno. Can’t remember the name. Let me find someone to ask.”

Claire, stopping me in mid-aisle, “Is the book Day is Done? Is that the one, Dad?”

Me, floored. Finding my voice and suddenly remembering the title, “Why, yes Claire that is the book.”

Claire, “ok, there it is.” Pointing to the poster selling Peter Yarrow’s new book Day is Done.

Not only did she read the title, she then proceeded to get in line to go ask the cashier for a copy housed behind the counter.

My response to her mother when I got home. “How ’bout I just give her my wallet and car keys, too.”
Claire listening in and needing the last word, “Yes, and I already read it to myself in the store.

Claire’s been working really hard in all of her classes; I don’t know which she likes (will like) the most, but she was really excited last Friday for swimming. The week before Mama and I got to watch her attempt to pass up and graduate from her beginning freestyle class. She was pretty close, and the deck manager gave her and her teacher some pointers to work on. Claire and I discussed them all week, and she went into Friday’s lesson with them in the forefront of her thinking.

She got up there and didn’t a helluva job. The deck manager wanted to see her try again before the class was over, so both deck managers talked and they decided she was ready to move forward! Claire was so excited to ring the bell and get her medal. She is not moving into Silver class where she will learn advanced freestyle before moving towards breast and backstroke. By next summer, she should be on the team!

Last night Claire and I were running out to grab dinner, and I asked her to grab my shoes for me while I finished something else. A moment later she’d run back into the room with my leather sandals I keep near the door in our living room. I don’t usually wear them unless I need to run out onto the rock yard. As she dropped them to the tile, something wiggled under one of them. We’ve had geckos in the house recently (and we always let them live cause they’re cute and eat bugs), so I went to pick up the shoe to show Claire. But when I picked it up instead of a cute little gecko there was a scorpion under my shoe.

Now I’d not seen a scorpion in my house in almost a decade and there he was! Claire shrieked and then immediately calmed down. She had this look like “what the hell is that thing?” I explained to her it was a scorpion and tried to figure out how to put it in my Claire context. I told her it was kinda like a “bad lizard” that hurts you.

I grabbed a glass and put it over the scorpion, and then went to find my Leatherman. I grabbed him up by the stinger and showed it to Claire, then I shot a few pictures before she and I went outside to crush his skull with a stick.

cc licensed flickr photo shared by Roadsidepictures

On the way home Friday from work in the car.

Claire: Dada, what are we doing this weekend?

Me: I’m not sure. We’ll ask Mama. Maybe we’ll go to the mall.

Claire: Dada, I want earrings.

Me, trying not to react: Why do you want those?

Claire: Cause Kaitlyn has them.

OH BOY.

This morning we Devon and I were busy in the kitchen, making breakfast and cleaning up. Claire had been playing in her little tent this week and pretending there were wolves and monsters and such around, requiring her to “hide” in the tent and play games.

Well, as I’m cooking I hear her scream bloody murder and run towards the kitchen. Knowing my kid and her standard volume, I barely flinched and continued my chore, concerned, but not panicked. Devon, however, caught on a bit sooner, shut off the faucet, and met her on the edge of the living room.

Claire screamed “there’s something in the cave!”. I’m thinking there is a bug and am still not too worried, but I take over hugging duty while Devon investigates the beast.

A moment later Devon exclaims “it’s a bird!”. A what?

I edge closer, still holding a hyperventilating Claire.

A dove, sitting on the other edge of our fireplace guard, calmly sits and looks over its surroundings. I pause, knowing that the flue was closed this winter, and wonder how this bird managed to get down the chimney and why it brought so much dirt into my house.

Then another thought occurred to me. How are we going to get this bird out???

I throw open the sliding glass doors as Devon removes the guard and I begin calling to this bird as though I speak the language.

It flaps wildly around the room.

So does Claire and Devon.

He runs to the garage. I run to the kitchen. I mean, I need to check on breakfast to – live goes on.

Then the bird comes into the kitchen and I scream. (It was aimed at my head, of course).

Devon charges in with a fishing net.

Seriously.

My screams panic the bird, who reroutes its course into my office. Drat! Why weren’t the other doors shut?

Devon chases after the bird; I reach for the camera.

The dove is released on the porch, flies away, and directly into our brick fence. It bounces off, lands on its back, feet in the air, and doesn’t move.

I grab a stick and flip it over, take a few pictures, leave it with a few parting thoughts, and return to the porch, happy the dog has been safely locked in the dog run…

After scrubbing our hands, eating breakfast, and going on about our day, Claire approaches me.

Mom?

Yes Claire?

I know what we can call the bird.

What?

Santa Claus!

[insert lightbulb above Donna's head]

Why Claire, that’s a great idea.  You know what mama thinks?

What mom?

I think Santa sent the dove to be sure you were being a good little girl.

No, it’s not Christmas yet.

It’s halfway there Claire; this is when Santa checks on kids.

Ah, man…