The Jonas Brothers!

Abra had a real treat last week when the Jonas Brothers came to town. Her dear Aunt Cat is working with the catering crew on the tour, and for the Cleveland concert she came through big time by scoring us backstage passes and tickets for the show!

While Abra is not a faint-at-the-sound-of-their-name fan, she does of course know of them, and know a few songs, and has always been the envy of her friends for all the JoBro flair that Aunt Cat sends her and Thalia from the tour. When I told her Wednesday morning that we had tickets to the show, she was quite excited (and assumed I was joking -- "Mom, is he serious?"). And then when I told her she was actually going to meet the Jonas Brothers, she got very wide-eyed and said "I can't meet them -- they're famous!".

So Thursday afternoon, I ducked out of work a bit early, and around 4:15 we headed down to the arena ("the Q", for you Clevelanders). This would be, of course, Abra's first arena concert ever (a bit of trivia: my first concert was Blue Oyster Cult, with Aldo Nova opening).

Anyway, we got down there and met Aunt Cat, who draped the passes around our necks.


Then Cat took us down and showed us her tour bus:


where Abra had a chance to try lying down in a real live tour bus bunk

Then we walked around the arena for a bit, and during this time we must have met a zillion of Cat's friends and coworkers. They seemed like good folks -- I think she really does like working with that crew. They were all certainly very friendly to Abra and me, even as busy as they were. Here's a shot of the stage layout from high up:

It amazes me how they set that up and break it down all in one day. Those folks work hard!

Then Cat tucked the tickets in my pocket:

Notice one of the numbers on that ticket:

Front row seats!

So after walking around the arena, we went to the JoBro meet-n-greet. (This was held in one of the practice courts at the arena, so I was busy checking out the scuff marks on the wall and trying to figure which ones had been left by LeBron's shoe.) For this, they prepped us with quite a nice spread of food, and I told Abra to knock herself out. She had chips, soda, cake -- and even a little bit of chicken. (I, like many of the other parents, took advantage of the open bar...).

Then it was time to meet the Jonas Brothers. Sadly Nick was tired, and didn't make it, but Joe and Kevin were there. We all lined up to meet them and have our picture taken. The whole time in line, I tried to convince Abra that she didn't want her dumb old dad in the picture, but she was pretty starstruck and wouldn't let go of me. It all happened pretty fast, we got in, I said hi, told them thanks for coming to Cleveland, hoped they were enjoying the wind-down of the tour, we smiled -- click! -- and then we were hustled out. Here's the shot, heh:

(That's Joe on the left and Kevin on the right, and yes I had to look them up on Wikipedia when I got home to figure out which was which....)

After that, we went down to our FIRST ROW seats:

(where I actually was not as waxen as the picture makes it look.) We watched the first of the three opening acts for a while. Cat had given us earplugs for Abra's ears -- this was, without a doubt, the loudest environment she's ever been in -- and she fiddled with them throughout.

Then Cat came by and and we went and had second dinner with her and some of the crew backstage. And that was quite a production, too. In this world of craziness down in the bowels of the big arena, it was like a little oasis. The food was quite good -- complements to the chefs! -- and in fact much better than what was up at the meet-n-greet, I thought. Kitty, what you do is amazing...

Then it was time for the Jonas Brothers to come on. We went back out to our seats, and Abra waited excitedly, waving the lightstick that she had gotten from one of Cat's friends:


And then, up came the Jonas Brothers from under the stage!


And Abra was quite amazed.

It was a lot of fun, and we watched about 45 minutes of the show. We were seated on the aisle, and so for much of the show I had a pack of preteen girls crushing in on me from the aisle, all waving signs and screaming. Abra got in on the action, too, letting out a few screams herself (mostly prompted by all the screaming kids around her, I think...).

Here's Abra with the Jonas Brothers in the background


And here's Kevin, to give a feel for our view:


The show was set to go on until about 10:30, but that was too late for us -- certainly for me! So at about 9:30 I told Abra that it was getting late and we would need to head out soon. She asked to stay longer, but didn't put up too much of a fuss, and indeed by the time we were halfway home, she was getting groggy in the car.

She did wake up when we got home so that she could show Brenna her haul: a program, a tshirt, buttons, stickers, poster, lightsticks, passes, etc, etc. She was truly treated like a queen, thanks so much to Aunt Cat for setting this up, and to her and her friends for taking good care of us.

So that's Abra's first concert: at age 7 she had backstage passes, front row seats, and an opportunity to meet the band. It's all gonna be downhill from here, that poor kid....

Road Trippin', Seven Year Old Style

We took the training wheels off the girls' bikes yesterday, and Abra took to it like nobody's business. We weren't sure how she would do, because she is sometimes a physically risk-averse kid, but maybe she's getting over that (she's turned into a pretty good soccer player for example, and has no problem getting into the scrum).

By the end of the first half-hour of practice (which consisted of either Brenna or me running right behind her, hands on shoulders, correcting the wobbles ["Dad, are you getting exercise?"]), Abra pretty much had the hang of it. She biked down the street on her own, with me about 10 yards behind her, running with my arms held up doing the touchdown sign. There was a good bit of wobbling still, to be sure, but by gosh she had it figured out. Here she is on her training wheel-less bike:



Thalia was doggedly determined, too, but at two years younger she still needs some practice. So we worked with her for a while -- she did manage to go a couple yards on her own -- but she was getting frustrated. So I put the training wheels back on her bike, but raised them up so that she can try and balance without them touching the ground. I suspect she will be ditching the training wheels pretty quickly herself.

Anyway, today I told Abra that as long as she told us, she was cleared to ride to the other end of the block and back, without supervision. And soon enough, it'll be time to let her bike to her friend's house a few blocks away. It's her version of car keys -- she's got freedom to ride.

So as soon as she sped off, I started thinking about blind driveways, and street crossings, and skinned knees, and her out on her own out of sight. And I got my first inkling of what I'm gonna be feeling when she's older and really out on her own -- making her own decisions, dealing with other people, driving cars, dealing with life. She's growing up...

Go get 'em, kid.

A First Time for Everything

So today, for the first time in my 12 years as a professor at CWRU, I went over to the university library and checked out a book.

Now before my librarian mom hits the roof, let me just point out that the Astronomy Library is actually located in the Astronomy Department, literally about three steps from my office door. And I get books from there quite often. And also, astronomy is a very technologically oriented field (and one that's always been way ahead of the curve when it comes to electronic resources), so 95% of my "library activities" take place online (literature searches, journal downloads, database access, etc).

But today, for a class I'm teaching on the process and philosophy of science, I actually needed a book. My first thought was to wonder if I could get it at the public library, then suddenly I remembered we had a library on campus. So I headed over to that big building across Euclid, clutching a printout with the book info on it.

(there are rumored to be books in this building)

When I walked inside, I stopped, looked around for a while in confusion, then headed up the stairs to my favorite librarian's office.

Me: Bill, in this big, fancy library of yours, where are the, uh... well... you know.... the, uh..."

Bill: The books?

Me: Yeah, those things.

Bill (clearly resisting the urge to throw a shoe at me): Upstairs, third floor.

So I found my book, checked it out (another helpful librarian had to show me how to do that), and finally went back to my office to read...

Bedtime Poll

OK, Child #1 has filed a request for a later bedtime. Her bedtime, which has been 8:30 for, oh, forever, is now seen as too early.

Being the skilled parent that I am, my response was "well, I dunno, what is a typical bedtime for a second grader?"

Let's ask the intertubes!

So here's your chance to weigh in:

Overheard at Target

Abra: You don't want any of these bluejeans, Dad? They're on sale!

Me: Well, I don't see any in my size.

Abra: Why don't you ask someone?

Me: I'm a guy, honey, guys don't ask for help.

Abra: So you just drink beer, slap each other on the back, and watch TV?


Yep, pretty much.

Poor Cow

People have been asking how I managed to survive Brazil, and so I figured I'd update.

I traveled with a pack of astronomers (several of whom read this here blog and can chime in if they so desire...), and we all stayed down at a hotel in Copacabana.

Yes, Copacabana. No, I did not see Lola, or Tony, or Rico.

Anyway, the hotel was pretty nice, but of course we were hopping the subway up to the center of Rio and attending the meetings like good astronomers. The meeting was fine, there was interesting stuff going on, but perhaps the most amusing thing was watching hundreds of astronomers go through internet withdrawal when the net in the conference center went down for a whole day.

I did take one afternoon off, and sat out on the beach at Copa. Was pleasant and warm, even though it was of course midwinter down there. I sat on the beach and read a book, and all was fine. Then I went up to the beach bar and ordered a beer and sat down at a table -- and the local beach vendors were on me like flies. I ignored them as best I could, but after a while fled back to the hotel rooftop bar, where there actually was a heck of a view:

(picture courtesy Pat Durrell)

While at the bar, I tried a caipirinha, which is evidently national cocktail of Brazil. A very tasty little drink, kind of like a margarita but w/ cachaça -- a sugarcane alcohol -- instead of tequila. I was impressed. If I could find cachaça up here in the US, I'd be game to mix a few up on a regular basis.

So then that night we went to carnivore heaven, a Brazilian charruscaria called Porcao de Ipanema. Porcao is pronounced "Poor Cow", and I would have to agree, that poor, poor cow. Basically it's an all you can eat meathouse, where they keep coming to your table with meat on a spit, and cut it onto your plate. Beef, chicken, lamb, pork, sausage, you name it. They just move from table to table cutting meat, until you finally flip over the little happy pig tile on your table from a green "feed me" to a red "no mas" symbol (or however you say it in Portugeuse). And on top of that, there is a huge seafood and salad bar -- sushi, shrimp, greens, etc, etc.


To prepare, I had skipped lunch that day, and we walked the two miles to the restaurant. Needless to say, I pigged out. And happily, I'm told that there is a churrascaria here in Cleveland -- The Brasa Grill. I'm looking forward to that!

The next day was our last day -- we were flying out that night -- so we had time to do something touristy. The decision was made to take the cable car to the top of Sugarloaf. (This is the cablecar ride featured in the Bond film Moonraker). That was very cool, and here's a shot (again from Pat) looking up at Sugarloaf:


And then finally, here's a shot of the four of us travelers up on top:

(me, John, Pat, Robin)

(For some reason, I look rather emaciated in that picture. Perhaps I needed to return to Porcao.....)

Anyway, after that it was a long flight back to Atlanta, followed by an flight to Cleveland that got turned back to Atlanta, a long wait, and a second, more successful flight to Cleveland, and then sleep.

Neophobic

So I was driving around last week listening to NPR, and there was a segment about how some biologists were trying to get rid of non-native rats on some distant island. They said it was hard to do, because while they would set out rat poison, rats are by nature "neophobic" and wary and mistrustful of new things (and thus wouldn't eat the new rat poison).

Neophobic. What a great word. That describes me to a T.

This is pretty timely, since tomorrow I head off to Brazil, a country I've never been to, where they speak a language I've never heard, and have a culture I've never experienced. I know, I know, this is the adventure, the excitement of traveling abroad. For me, the night before a foreign trip feels like my last night on death row.

What can I say? I'm neophobic. I'm never thrilled by new trips overseas.

Now, let's be careful here: I'm not xenophobic at all. That is, on my many other trips to other countries, once I've figured out the system, I've had a ball. Australia, Italy, Switzerland, Japan, England, the American South, etc, etc, the list goes on -- all these strange countries have been fun and interesting to me. Once I've figured out the system.

It's just the part of going to them for the first time that stresses me out. Its an environment I do not know. Neophobia. Perfect word. That's me.

Indeed, every time I travel overseas, I think of Steve Martin's great line about trying to make himself understood in Paris: "The French -- it's like they have a different word for everything."

So after hearing this report on NPR, I looked up "neophobia" on the definitive source of all knowledge: Wikipedia. Wikipedia says:

Neophobia is also a common finding in aging animals, although apathy could also explain, or contribute to explain, the lack of exploratory drive systematically observed in aging.

Aging, apathy, whatever. Neophobia is my new word and I'm sticking to it. Heck, at least it keeps me from eating that new rat poison....

(Plus, I'm now mad at Walt for cancelling out of the meeting at the last minute. )

Feline Infestation

These damn cats are everywhere.

In the kitchen:

In my chair:


On my dinner table:


(it looks like i'm having road-kill for dinner. and yes, that is lawn furniture we use as our dining room set, thank you very much.)

ER Visit #2

So we are walking home from the Art Festival this afternoon, and Thalia starts complaining about something in her ear. Brenna stops to look, can't see anything, tries to wiggle her ear and see if anything shakes free, nothing does. We keep walking, Thalia keeps complaining, until finally we get home. Brenna gets a flashlight, looks in her ear, and the exchange goes something like this:

Brenna: yes, there's something in there. (pause) it looks like... like... like a bead.

Me: A bead?

Brenna: A bead. Look for yourself. (hands me the flashlight)

I look in. Sure enough, nestled way back in Thalia's ear canal is a little red bead.

Me: Thalia, how did a bead get in your ear? (This was an honest question at the time, although in hindsight it was pretty dumb.)

(long pause)

Thalia: I put it there.

Sigh.

It's way too far in for me to want to pull out of her ear with tweezers; I have visions of rupturing her ear drum (a phobia spawned I'm sure from reading the Q-tip warning label too many times).

Now, on a Sunday afternoon, where do you get help? It seems silly to go to the ER over this, but I dont want it to get wedged deeper into her ear and really become a serious problem. As I am trying to figure out what to do, I notice our wonderful neighbor Dr. Molly sitting next door on her deck. Feeling dumb, I say "Molly, where should I take her for this?"

Molly offers to try and get it out herself with tweezers (heck, she's a doctor, she doesn't worry about the Q-tip warning), but it's just really wedged in too far even for Molly's steady doctor-hands.

So off we go to the ER. I drop Brenna and Thalia off at the front door, and then take Abra to go park the car. While walking back in to the hospital, Abra says "Dad, how come whenever we come here, it's always for Thalia?" and I have visions of my future.

Anyway, long story short, the ER doc calls the attending physician, who calls the ENT specialist who comes down and pulls the bead out of Thalia's ear. She's good while he does it, only complains a couple of times. Then the ENT doc checks Abra's ears for good measure (nothing stuck in there, thankfully).

On the way out, Abra asks if we get to keep the bead. For what we just paid to get it out, I would hope so.

Wonderful.

Aunt Connie sent along these pictures of Brenna. They are magical. I love the expressions. And the cats.

Lemonade Stand Tycoon

Thalia came running downstairs after counting the money she and Abra made from their lemonade and cookie stand the other day. Luckily I had the camera right next to me when she burst into the room....


Really there's not much more I can add to that picture.

Girls Sing Stones

So my master plan to brainwash the girls is that I have all my Rolling Stones CDs in the car, and that's the only thing I listen to when I am driving them around. (And as Brenna will attest to, I have quite a few Stones CDs...). So they are learning, particularly Thalia, who sings along with all the music.

I've tried to record Thalia, but she has proved very shy about singing into a microphone. Finally tonight I got her to do so, and I've posted the tracks below. Note that sometimes you have to put up with gaps in her singing because she doesn't know some of the words -- keep listening, though, because she does know the refrains! Also, on some tracks you have to put up with my voice leading her through certain parts -- I apologize in advance for subjecting you to that....

So here are our selections:

• As Tears Go By (she does well in the refrain on this one -- wait for it)
  
• Satisfaction (she belts it out on this track!)
  
• Sweet Virginia (thankfully she changed the lyrics on the fly at the very end!)
• Tumbling Dice (she loves the "roll me"'s...)
  
• Jigsaw Puzzle (this one didn't turn out so well, which is strange since it's one of her favorite Stones songs...)

And as a bonus, when Abra came home, Dad and the girls teamed up to do Sympathy for the Devil -- you really have to excuse my voice, but the girls do the hoo-hoos quite vigorously.

Politician Kidlets

Abra just can't get enough of writing to President Obama:

(you'll have to click on the image so it will resize to a readable version)

The drawing is great, but personally my favorite part are the questions. Particularly the "do you have problems, and if so, name a few, ok?" I can just see him writing back, "yeah, you know those asshats on the Senate Finance Committee are really dogging my tail, Abra, and don't even get me started about the GM situation..."

Meanwhile, as Abra writes to politicians, Thalia is starting a campaign of her own. First, she butters up the parents:


And then, to make sure we know who made that picture, she adds on the back


Yes, that's right, it's from our best doter! Not that other one that only writes to the President....

More Bad Parenting

Evidently we make our children sleep in small cardboard boxes:

Bobby

OK, now that I have a scanner in the house, it's a lot easier to scan a whole bunch of random stuff without having to remember to take it into work to use the scanner there. So here's the first item from the great archive of nonsense that is lying around the house.

This dates from last year, when Abra was in kindergarten and still working on getting her letters right. She brought this drawing home from school, and I suddenly was worried that I had been replaced by a better dad/husband. Some guy named Bobby:



After scratching my head for a while and trying to figure out if I should start packing up and make way for Bobby, I suddenly realized that I was ok, and that Abra has simply reversed her "d"s.

At least I hope that's all it was.

Adoption, Part Two

...and today we had Abra's adoption finalized. We are very pleased.

The morning started with me getting into my suit. Keep in mind I haven't actually been in a suit in five years (my wedding tuxedo excepted) and it is only by virtue that I've been on a low fat diet for the past three months that I got into it. Nonetheless, I did manage to squeeze into it, without any buttons shooting off and putting anyone's eye out.

We trundled the girls into the car, and took Thalia to preschool. We would have taken Thalia to the courthouse as well, except she had a field trip to Purvis Park today, and we figured that would be more exciting for her than sitting around some old courthouse.

After dropping Thalia off, we went downtown. Abra stayed with a nice Sparty law clerk while Brenna and I and our wonderful counselor Becky Blair went and talked to Judge Gallagher for a while. It turns out the judge is an amateur astronomer, and had actually been to Kitt Peak before, so we chatted telescopes and Saturn and stuff, and that made me relax a bit.

Then the judge called Abra in to talk with her for a bit. That's where I wish I had a camera: Abra, all four feet of her, standing in the court looking up at the judge high on her podium, and answering her questions. Abra did that little swish-swish she does when she's self-conscious, which totally charmed the court. Judge Gallagher asked Abra about her sister, and if she shared her things. Abra said yes, mostly. Judge Gallagher asked her if Abra had things that were just hers, and Abra said yes, the things she hid from her sister. That earned good courtroom laughs.

So after that, Judge Gallagher approved the adoption, all was done, and we took Abra back to school (since there was a school carnival in the afternoon). Mom and Dad took the rest of the day off, and we celebrated.

Life is good.

The Facts of Life

So I'm walking back from the library yesterday with the girls, and out of the blue Abra asks me "Dad, how do animals mate?"

(Uhh, isn't Brenna supposed to handle this question? Well, I'll give it the old college try.)

So I explained that animals try to find a suitable partner, and then they get together and nest and have babies.

Abra: Yes, but how do they mate?

Hmm, no avoiding that question really. Straight-up question deserves a straight-up answer. Luckily Thalia is half a block ahead looking at flowers.

So I explain the biological activity: "Well, the boy animal puts his [censored] into the girl animal's [censored] and that's how they make a baby." (I didn't really say "censored", it's just that I still can't quite type those words knowing that my Mom reads this blog...)

Abra: Eww.

Long pause.

Abra: Do you do that to Mom, too?

Long pause.

Me: Uh, well, yeah, sometimes.

Long pause.

Me: Hey, let's go catch up with Thalia.

Bailout, Abra Style

So recently the girls and I were chatting about fiscal responsibility ("Dad, why can't we go to Disney World?" "Because I'm CHEAP!") and finances ("How much money do we have, Dad?" "Can't we just go the bank and get more?"), etc.

I made the comment that the girls were doing very well, that their piggy banks were stuffed with cash (which they were, at least until Abra went on a recent book-buying binge).

Anyway, when we went to bed later that night, I found this on my pillow:


If it hard to see, at the bottom there is a dollar coin taped to the page, surrounded by the words "Keep it, Keep it, Love Abra"

Yes, I'm so cheap I'm now receiving a bailout from my 7 year old daughter....

Media Update

Yesterday evening I came home from work as usual and am wandering around the house, thinking of dinner, and suddenly the phone rings. Caller ID says "WEWS" and so I hand the phone to my dear wife to answer. She answers it, and I hear "Yes. Yes. Yes he is, may I ask who's calling?"

Uh oh.

She hands me the phone and says "WEWS news for you."

Uh oh.

I'm instantly wondering if Carl Monday has been digging through my trash. (ok, yeah, i know -- different channel).

"Hello?"

So as it turns out, it's one of the very nice local anchors, wanting to talk about Hubble. As you may have heard, astronauts are in the process of upgrading the Hubble Space Telescope. This is a good thing, since its been many years since the last servicing mission, and Hubble is seriously in need of some attention.

After chatting with him for a bit, he suddenly says "Can we come interview you on camera? We can be there in 30 minutes." Uh.... okay... sure.

So I quickly get in touch with the college's ever-helpful communications director / media relations person who says a) "WHAAAT??", b) "Have you been drinking?" (well, yes), and c) "you should totally wear one of your hawaiian shirts". So I go change into a hawaiian shirt.

A few minutes later, a white van pulls up and the anchor and cameraman get out. Abra runs up, looks at the van, and say "Are we getting a new car?" No such luck, kid.

I ask them where they want to do the interview -- inside or out? They come inside, look around at the house, and quickly say "Let's do it outside." OK, yeah, good call. And so we go outside and do the interview.

These things always throw me off (particularly when I am "off duty" and at home). I feel like a babbling idiot on camera -- I'm not good at talking to newspeople on the fly. Anyway, here's the link to the video. You have to sit through a short ad, and then the story -- I'm close to the end. Evidently there wasn't much useful in my babbling, since they used a very short clip. Don't blink or you'll miss it.

Adoption, Part One

So we just got back from the courthouse downtown. Thalia's adoption is complete, and I can now drop the "step-" from my stepfather title for her. Abra is up next -- her adoption will happen later in the summer.

So what did we do to celebrate? Well, we took the girls to Bob Golic's Sports Bar and Grille, where we celebrated with lemonade and french fries. Do I know how to treat my girls, or what? Sadly, Bob was not there to celebrate with us....