Below you will see that we watched Superman Returns the other night, and you know what… IT SUCKED. I just wasn’t it to it, and yes, I did fall asleep. And yes, when I asked my dad if he liked it, he said "it sucked. I fell asleep after 20 minutes." Other than that it was horrible.

Now onto other stuff. Look for my post on dadbloggers in a few days here. It’s about Claire who is talking more and more in complete sentences (albeit incomprehensible sentences).

As for me, I’ve been sitting at this table for two days now on my laptop. Danny and Donna want to exchange music for Christmas, and we’ve been working on that. I am done, though. I am finished. Stick a fork in me. When I important a couple hundred songs, after a while my computer cries. So now I am working on my English 102 class that I am teaching online. I have several pages of developed curriculum to modify, so here I sit. I made a few new accounts recently on sites like pageflakes, del.icio.us and furl. Web2.0 sites are fun.

While in Pittsburgh for Grampap’s funeral, we often congregated at Grandma’s house with the family.  Little kids often lighten events like these, because they innocently are clueless to the gravity of the situation.

Claire was getting a kick out of running around to everyone in the living room and interacting on many levels.  At one point she stood up and ran about six feet – fast – right towards Uncle Ernie.  Now, Uncle Ernie is a big, shall we say teddy bear shaped man.  When Claire reached him, she immediately bounced off his belly and landed flat on her back on the floor.

After the initial daze, and as the entire room was cracking up, Claire stood up and stumbled back to the middle of the room.  As she gained perspective, Claire realized that we were laughing at her and that she must’ve done something amusing.  Loving the attention, Claire quickly turned and ran back to Uncle Ernie and, consequently, repeated her previous performance.

At this point, I’m laughing so hard that I’d damn near peed myself.  I think Uncle Ernie was a little embarrassed, though, because he got up a few minutes later and didn’t return to that chair for the remainder of the day.

We buried Grandpap on Saturday. I think part of the reason it freaked me out personally is because he’s my father’s father. And then we walk into the funeral home and the sign above the door says "Mr. Adams". I AM Mr. Adams. My father is Mr. Adams. Very Odd. I even took a picture. I don’t know what to say, Uncle Richard was the worse off and I heard the story about him spending an hour at his father’s bedside after he had died. I also heard the story how the 14 year old grandson was the one who told Grandma that Grandpap had died. I also saw some family members who I’d not seen in sometime. Grandpap looked fine. There was a military flag in the coffin that they later draped over him, and the Steelers teddy bear that my father bought him for his 90th birthday last month. More than nought we embraced one another and enjoyed the company of everyone, rather than dwell on what had happened.

We carried Grandpap from funeral home to the hearse and got to drive through every red light and stop sign to Port Vue. I’d never seen the Adams’ burial plot before, so that was very interesting. Everyone back three generations was there, and then off to Ciccanti’s for lunch. I had driven past that restaurant probably 5,000 times in my lifetime and never knew how to pronounce it. Well now I do, after asking the owner.

We spent Saturday night and all day Sunday at Grandma’s house with everyone. It was wonderful to spend time with Kimmy and Brian and his family. Uncle Ernie killed me in Cribbage, but that was still fun. And a ridiculously fowl ref call kept us from celebrating further with a Steeler’s win over the Falcons. Then Grandma started going through Grandpap’s drawers and pretty much gave away his entire wardrobe. Some people would think that would be an odd thing to do after burying your husband, but then she has 9 grandsons, and we can all use clothes. So we got ‘em. And Grandma distributed other momentos to us in order of age. I will remember Grandpap by wearing his Seiko watch, his ties, and some socks. Jaime got overcoats, money clip, etc…

People want to say "sorry about your loss" but Grandpap was not a loss. He was a gain. 90 years with a family who Grandma looked out at from the hallway (all of us sitting in our Steeler shirts Sunday afternoon) and commented "look at this wonderful family. We’d not all be here and have each other, if it weren’t for him. We’re all blessed by Grandpap."

We’re in Pittsburgh now, and we took the red eye with Claire Wednesday night. I don’t think I ever want to give her Benadryl before flying again. She and her mother become hyper on it, and in her case, she cries and screams all night. We touched down in Charlotte in the early morning fog. It was about 2AM our time, and 5AM EST. We took off again at 7AM and we all conked out until we hit Pittsburgh.

We drove down to Grandma’s house last night. Grandma’s siblings stocked the fridge and we all descended upon the house where she hadn’t stayed since she called my uncle in June and told him to come get them since she could not take care of grandpap alone anymore. They’d been at his house since.

The only grand child who can’t get back for the funeral is Sean, who for some reason couldn’t get off of work. So Uncle Ernie and Aunt left Cocoa Beach, FL at 3AM and drove straight through 16 hours to Pittsburgh and everyone else flew.

Today’s the viewing all day, and tomorrow is the funeral. We, the grandsons, are the pall bearers. I try not to cry. I doubt I will make it.

As usual on vacation, Claire acquired new language skills.  In her repeated stumbles this past weekend, she began saying "owie".  After tripping, Claire grabs her knee "owie".  Music too loud in the car, "owie"; bumps her elbow, "owie"; bored and looking for attention, "owie". 

Additionally, Claire communicated more heavily regarding bathroom phrases – literally.  When asked, "Claire, did you go potty?", she’ll shake her head yes and respond "pee-pee" or "poop" or "poopy" or a combination.  Then she’ll grab herself or reach her hand in to help out.  She has begun laying down or going in search of diapers when I tell her that we need to change her diaper.  Claire tries to flush the toilet when in the bathroom or wipe herself when on the changing table.  Of course that is not a good thing when toilet paper is not involved or when only one parent is in the room.  She has been really entralled by the whole potty process lately.

I’m now waiting for us to start potty training so that we can combine the potty experience with "owie!" when she learns to push out her first load…

Things will never be the same again.  Not that they ever could be, but I am occasionally a dreamer.  Especially when I’m being lazy and it is easier to dream about something than to actually do it.

But to imitate Devon, I digress.  Last week, Devon and I returned from a wonderful two week vacation in Pennsylvania.  It was relaxing and joyful.  The weather was wonderful.  Only two humid days and one day of rain.  (Athough Devon would have loved the weather even if it had rained each day).

Mini-trips to Conneaut and Warren were made to visit relatives.  Philly relatives made the trek to PGH at the latter part of our vacation.  We packed the time between trips by getting a mani/pedi (me and mom), attending my 11 year high school reunion, seeing Pirates of the Carribean 2 AT THE THEATER, visiting the zoo, going to the mall, celebrating Meghan’s 25th birthday, taking a Ducky Tour of the city and doing a few other random things.  Claire had a great time with her peeps and learned to speak a few new words – all of which are acceptable at daycare, so no damage has been done – yet!

We returned Sunday afternoon after a day of travel to 94 degree temperatures.  No, not outside (it is over 100 in AZ right now).  The AC at our house broke while on vaca and we had to vacate and stay with Ryan, Laura and Emma.  Thank you, thank you, thank you for your hospitality!!  Devon and Claire battled it out in the heat temporarily on Monday while the AC guy replaced the transformer and wiring.  Good news – it didn’t cost too much.  Better news – AC is now working.  Woo-hoo!

While Devon and Claire were home, I spent my first day back at work.  Now considering that my job is the same, it shouldn’t be too different, right?  Wrong.  Gail is gone!  ….  (I literally cried about this many times since she announced her retirement in May).  Now Jim is in.  OK, Jim is a nice guy, but he is not Gail and I quickly note MANY differences.  It has been a rough week back at work and I am now crossing my fingers, legs and arms that I’ll make it through the year.  Same job, different boss actually makes the job very different when your title is Administrative Assistant.  Your job is to assist the boss, so the actual person in the position has a HUGE effect on your job.  Well, I guess I’ll survive.  If you want more details, you’ll have to ask me in person because I don’t want to pull a dooce.

In July 1994 I stayed in my in-laws basement late on the 3rd of July, way before they were my in-laws. I had been dating their daughter for approximately 25.2 days, and the next day we were going to visit her paternal grandparents in Warren, PA. For those people who have no geographical expertise of middle-eastern-northern PA, it’s about 60 miles east of Erie, PA (you know, of Great Lake fame). And about 27 miles from the hometown of Psycho-hose Beast (of whom we do not generally speak). Anyway, we were headed up there in the back of my now-mother-in-law’s blue car, while Meatloaf sang about homeruns and stealing bases.

Warren is a small town near other cool places like Todioute and Tionesta and Kinzua Dam, places where my dad took me hunting, fishing, and camping when I was a wee lad. Near where he worked in the state department early in my parent’s marriage when I may have been a kidney bean, kumquat, and other embryonic fruits and veggies.

In 1994 the whole family was there, including all of my father-in-laws brothers and their families. This time there were less people, but cousin Wendy came down, who is the most ripped chick I personally know. And her man from the winery who makes the nectar of the gods from crushed grapes. And her boys.

We all planned to go the fireworks the other day and beforehand walked around the carnival. Zambelli put on a fab show, and we all sat up in the pickup with Yeungling and cotton candy. I took several pics, and we were there for the weekend. I just love walking around Grammy’s neighborhood. It reminds me of when my dad took me to Potter Country archery hunting when I was a teenager. We’d go up the first week of deer hunting season in October every year with his best friend, Bill. Grammy’s house is near the highway, but it’s like you’re in the woods. Oak and Pine trees line to roads and there small one bedroom house has a huge basement of which I am totally jealous. And several of the trees around there were seedlings with Grampa planted them years ago.

I miss green.

While in PA we wanted to visit my grandparents who decided to move in with my Uncle’s family in Pymatuning, so we decided we were coming here for the Fourth of July fireworks display at Conneaut Lake park. Last night several of us fished in a private pond in the back of my Uncle’s property and hauled out dozens of Blue Gill and several Bass, and tonight we were off to the park. We were so excited to show Claire the fireworks that we were disappointed when our bubbles were burst because their fireworks were the other night.

We still went to the park with Grumpy, Grammy, cousin Rachael and us, but the park has long since had it’s heyday. It’s a park of old like Palisade’s, and now sits with peeling paint and dilapidated carousel horses who can no longer pump their little legs up and down with the weight of the paucity of small children who still climb onto their back for a buck fifty. Our disappointment grew when they announced the park would close at 9PM tonight after we arrived at 8:15. We threw wiffle balls at cups, shot water guns at hoses, and looked longingly at the funnel cake fry cookers, before throwing in the proverbial towel and pushed Claire’s new umbrella stroller toward the exit.

This morning my mother sent me a text message telling me that Ben Rothelisberger, the Steeler’s Quarterback, was seriously injured when his motor cycle was hit by a car outside Armstrong tunnel in Pittsburgh. I was not too happy since it’s the hometown team and Big Ben got us one for the thumb in February at the Superbowl. Of course it irks us all that he wasn’t wearing his helmet, but what can I say? I’d like to say "told you so" since so many people did, but on the other hand, the most important thing is making sure he is ok. The only time today I wasn’t wearing my Steeler’s Superbowl locker room cap, was when Claire wore it for a trip through Lowe’s tonight when she was paying tribute to Big Ben, who she loves almost as much as her daddy since we both wear beards.

I followed along on WPXI.com all day while they were working on Ben, and the young woman they interviewed said that she thought the lady from Maine must’ve busted through the intersection and made a left turn on red. I bet she was a Pats Fan.