Toy Story T-Family Style

Hasbro, Mattel, Fisher Price, whomever – you can all send me a thank you note and royalty check later.  I have four ideas for toys and one for a product catering to parents that I’ve never seen and need to be made.  I have no idea if the goods would ever succeed on the market but I know at least my family would buy each of them, so that should obviously be sufficient grounds to at least launch some focus groups and an exploratory research panel.  Here goes.

1.) A freestanding drawer constructed of real wood that appears to have a truly functional purpose in the real world, as opposed to a plastic version that may fit nicely next to a toy kitchen.  The height would be adjustable but ideally at a level that is at the tippy-toe reach of a toddler. 

When the toddler reaches blindly into the drawer, he/she will find (toy) sharpened pencils and pens that he/she may chew, jam into their eyes, or use as a stabbing implement on his/her unsuspecting sibling.

I'd call it the "Juvenile Delinquent's Junk Drawer."

This drawer exists in real life next to our refrigerator and it’s one of Tilly’s hot spots on any given day.  Unfortunately for all involved, the pens and sharpened pencils are real.  The drawer is now empty.

2.) A freestanding door and door jamb that sits in the middle of a room.  A parent could adjust the resistance to control the level of noise made upon closure, which might range from silent to annoyingly loud slam. 

The door would have to at least have the appearance of genuine wood.  However, the edges would be made of some type of foam so that any fingers getting caught in between a door and a jamb would not be amputated. 

Gus would pay $1 million for this toy.  And it may occupy him for twelve straight hours, so long as an unattended stairway is not within sight.  Let's call this one "All Jambed Up."

3.) Notebooks, sticky pads, or packaging of any translucence that is actually a vegetable or fruit pulp with nutritional value.  The key to pulling off this sham is leaving the item in a location that suggests it was abandoned accidentally, say while attending to the diaper of a different child in the house.

Like a barn mouse, Tilly sniffs out these little gems from miles away.  I’ll stumble upon her as I turn a corner dirty diaper in hand after having just changed Gus and there she is, gnawing away on a grocery list or sticky notes from a deposition transcript I took home from work.  Maybe the product will be called “Edible Papyrus” or something to that effect.

Maybe we could resurrect fruit roll-ups and fashion them into some type of Trapper Keeper.  That would be like Tilly’s Thanksgiving/Christmas meal all combined into one secret snack club.

4.) A toilet bowl complete with water and flushing mechanism.  To ensure the bona fide appearance of this number one Christmas gift in 2013, I don’t recommend locating it in a bathroom.  Instead, I’d stash it in a closet or something with the door left slightly open.

Gus eyeballs the bathroom door in our house whenever he’s doing rounds just in case someone didn’t close it all the way during a hasty exit.  Upon seeing any daylight at the entrance, he charges in there and immediately inspects the john before he promptly splashes his arm shoulder-deep as if digging for catfish in a riverbed.

The "Hideaway Head" could retail for a cool $59.95 at Target on Black Friday.  Could you imagine the unintentional comedy of the television commercial?  

5.) The Dexter edition industrial-size plastic wrap wallpaper for moms and dads.  This product would be a transparent adhesive that lies invisible over kitchen walls, window sills, moldings, and other fixtures to protect them from the shrapnel in any meal involving kids under five within a twenty-five foot radius of the kitchen table.

I swear we painted our kitchen within the last two years even though it's beginning to look like an abandoned dining room from a house in Chernobyl.  We might as well let Crips and Bloods tag the place as if it was a subway car because it would look a thousand times better than the current state of dried-up, partially chewed remnants of fruit morsels and Cheerios that pock mark the vicinity at random locations from five feet and below.

3M is probably working on a prototype of this product as we speak.  Home Depot can set up a nice display at its entrance.  The DIY network might even have an episode to show nincompoops like me how it's so easy to install myself.

And there we have it.  If I see any of these products on shelves this year, I expect at least a free sample.

The Glass is Half Full

I’ve been at a loss for words the past several weeks.  Bad funk.  As for writing, I wasn’t struggling to come up with any ideas.  I just knew that I would likely regret whatever it was that I wrote because my pants were so full of poop. 

There is no dramatic backstory to explain.  No specific incident or anything like that.  Actually, my bad mood (not the first, not the last) developed mostly as a result of the banalities of my daily routines.   

One morning probably in February, my mind suddenly became overwhelmed with the grind of crying/teething/fighting kids, a house crumbling from damage caused by said kids, too much Disney/not enough Hemingway, grilled cheese sandwiches smooshed in hair and wiped on walls instead of meals with peaceful conversations, low energy, winter blues, etc.  And repeat the next day.  Every day.  Every week.  Then start again the following week.  Blah, blah, blah.  The only respite was going to work, but really, how messed up is it that a job becomes the place to recharge one’s energy? 

Fortunately, I maintained perspective.  We have our health.  We have a roof over our heads.  We have food in our bellies.  We have clothes on our backs.  As cliché as that may be, everything else is truly just gravy. 

But being American, I of course want everything, right now, because of my self-perception that I’m the hardest worker I know.  These yin and yang debates raged on mostly inside my head, while I toiled through the daily drudgery. 

I felt myself becoming unlike myself.  Almost like when Jack Butler (Mr. Mom) yells at Kenny for coloring outside the lines and enjoying the same television shows as his one year old.  Although I wish it was that lighthearted in my case.  (Again, no real drama but my heart is guilty for slacking off in the patience department to name one example.) 

Eventually, I think I just annoyed myself into a better mood.  I decided to be Billy Ocean when the going gets tough. 

I’m launching a system upgrade.  Dad version 4.0.  (Greta turned four last month.)  Hopefully, the new software will be the kind that doesn’t wreak havoc on the server causing an eye-rolling, belly aching uproar among the employees and calls every day to Help Desk people named “Joe” and “Bob” in sub-continental Asia.

With that confession out of the way, I’m ready to emerge from hibernation.  I’m re-booting the computer now.

Things That Make You Go Hmmm

My buddy Joe was one of the first to get his driver’s license out of the guys I hung out with in high school.  Whenever I hear C+C Music Factory (which is extremely rare come to think of it,) my mind teleports to riding through the streets of Manchester in Joe’s Mazda 626 while Gonna Make You Sweat blared out any attempted conversation between the passengers.  Ah, the nineties.  I digress.

Tilly has recently transitioned somewhere from Australopithecus man to Homo habilis man.  Assuming the memory serves me correctly from World Cultures class, Australopithecus was one of the more primitive primates from whom humans evolved.  Homo habilis was the first species in the evolutionary chain who used tools.  I think.  Or maybe it was Homo erectus.

 

Irregardless, Tilly has begun mastering pulling herself up to stand.  The other day, I saw her standing at the toy tool table.  She was firing away at the circular saw until Gus came along and nudged her out of the way.  Tilly then grabbed a toy hammer and whacked away at her brother’s leg.  Hence, homo habilis.

Notwithstanding her evolutionary progression, Tilly’s eating quirks are probably more akin to Cro-Magnon man or possibly Neanderthal.  First, the volume of food she consumes is akin to the intake of a Biggest Loser contestant the night before they begin a competition.  Second, her table manners are atrocious.  We basically need a high-powered hose to blast away all the food scraps and crumbs that accumulate between her fingers, in her hair, on her cheeks, and in the folds of her neck after a meal. 

Most entertaining, though, is the sound that Tilly makes once we’ve begun to feed our little beast.  The only way I can accurately describe my baby’s happy hum while eating is well, um, the sound I imagine of a woman taking a bubble bath with several lit candles around her after a couple glasses of Chardonnay as she watches that movie about male strippers starring Channing Tatum and Matthew McConaughey.  I’m just saying. It’s funny and uncomfortable to witness at the same time.

That’s is for this week.  I’m off to download “Gonna Make You Sweat (Everybody Dance Now)” because I can’t get it out of my brain.

Thoughts Too Long for Side Note at Side Bar:

THE WIFE graciously granted me a short parole this weekend so I could catch at least one of the four NFL playoff games.  I headed to Owen O’Leary’s, which is an Irish Pub and Restaurant just over the border between Easton and Brockton.  I’d never eaten there but I drive by it literally every single day, so it’s been on the list of places to check out for a while.

Upon entering, I deduced quickly that the average age of the clientele was somewhere between seventy and eighty years old.  Mind you, I was there on a Sunday at four o’clock, but I was still surprised at how much of a hot spot this was for the “well into retirement” crowd.

So this place is an old school type of family restaurant with very affordable entrees and Keno to boot.  The ambience is kind of dark and sleepy.  The décor is kind of outdated but clean and presentable.  Most of the couples ignored each other and their food because their eyes were transfixed on the monitor to see if they hit on their seven pick exacto.

I ordered the shepard’s pie and a stout.  Neither disappointed.  Good stuff.  Rumor has it that OO’s has a younger crowd during Pats’ games and when Stonehill’s students are back in session, but I’ll believe it when I see it…

I caught the Seahawks-Redskins game and just before it began, Erin Andrews (formerly of ESPN, Dancing With The Stars, and the unfortunate victim of a peeping Tom with a camera as she changed in a hotel room) came on the screen with a Fox pre-game report.  I couldn’t help but notice that everyone in the place all took a brief pause to look at the gorgeous woman.  I forgot how attractive she is…

I ask this sincerely because making fun of health issues just isn’t funny.  Has anyone heard Boomer Esiason’s voice lately?  Somebody give that guy a lozenge.  Just listening to him gives me a sore throat.  I’ll feel like a complete jackass if he genuinely has a throat sickness or something, but assuming that’s not the case, he needs to take some time off from work like yesterday.  Every time I hear him on the radio, I crave a hot toddy…

Speaking of the radio, the best report I heard after leaving the restaurant went something like this, “Thanks Jim.  I was just standing near the bench of the Seahawks and [the field goal kicker I think] was having his groin stretched feverishly.”  Personally, I’m pretty sure I know how I’d react to someone stretching my groin.  For said person to stretch my groin feverishly, well, I’d probably start making sounds like Tilly does when she’s eating a nice meal…

The Next Pollock?

Although the dark lit room of my art history classroom almost always lulled me to sleep – that is assuming I actually made it to class - I remember how several of the artists had groups of works inspired by a particular theme.  Goya’s black paintings, Gauguin’s Tahitian pieces, and Monet’s haystacks come to mind, for example.  In keeping with such a precedent, I present to you a collection of works by aspiring young artist Greta Teravainen. 

The Early Years: 2012 Holiday Gallery

My Family

Title: Tilly When She's a Big Girl

Date: December 4, 2012

Type: Sparkle and glue on paper (8.5" x 11")

Location: T Family Institute of Art - Kitchen

Title: Nana

Date: December 4, 2012

Type: Sparkle and glue on paper (8.5" x 11")

Location: T Family Institute of Art - Kitchen

Title: Gus

Date: December 4, 2012

Type: Sparkle and glue on paper (8.5" x 11")

Location: T Family Institute of Art - Kitchen

Title: Mom

Date: December 4, 2012

Type: Sparkle and glue on (stained) paper (8.5" x 11")

Location: T Family Institute of Art - Kitchen

Title: Greta

Date: December 4, 2012

Type: Sparkle and glue on paper (8.5" x 11")

Location: T Family Institute of Art - Kitchen

Title: Dad

Date: December 4, 2012

Type: Sparkle and glue on paper (8.5" x 11")

Location: T Family Institute of Art - Kitchen

Winter

Title: Snowballs a/k/a The Map

Date: December 8, 2012

Type: Sparkle and glue on paper (8.5" x 11")

Location: T Family Institute of Art - Kitchen

Title: Snowmen

Date: December 4, 2012

Type: Sparkle and glue on paper (8.5" x 11")

Location: T Family Institute of Art - Kitchen

Title: Our Christmas Tree from Last Year

Date: December 8, 2012
Type: Sparkle and glue on paper (8.5" x 11")
Location: T Family Institute of Art - Kitchen

Title: Untitled

Date: Undated

Type: Sparkle and glue on (stained) paper (8.5" x 11")

Location: T Family Institute of Art - Kitchen

The G Series

Title: G Path
Date: Undated

Type: Sparkle and glue on paper (8.5" x 11")

Location: T Family Institute of Art - Kitchen

Title: Big G Path
Date: Undated

Type: Sparkle and glue on paper (8.5" x 11")

Location: T Family Institute of Art - Kitchen

Title: Bigger G Path
Date: Undated

Type: Sparkle and glue on paper (8.5" x 11")

Location: T Family Institute of Art - Kitchen

Still Life

Title: Banana
Date: December 8, 2012

Type: Sparkle and glue on paper (8.5" x 11")

Location: T Family Institute of Art - Kitchen

Title: Rapunzel
Date: December 4, 2012

Type: Sparkle and glue on (stained) paper (8.5" x 11")

Location: T Family Institute of Art - Kitchen

Title: A Design (Bird in Flight)
Date: undated

Type: Sparkle and glue on paper (8.5" x 11")

Location: T Family Institute of Art - Kitchen

_____________________________________________________

We hope you enjoyed this collection from Greta.  Come back again for an exclusive interview with the artist...

A Little Summer in Winter

Back in fourth or fifth grade, I had a buddy whose family took me with them to a house party in Manchester on one July Fourth holiday.  Parents pretty much socialized inside the hosts’ house, while the kids ran amok outside.  I don’t recall whether the parents were not watching us closely or simply didn’t have much concern, but we ten or eleven year-olds were left to entertain ourselves.  To my utter shock and delight, it dawned on me that my peers were playing with lighters, matches, and – most importantly – fireworks.  When I look back on this occasion, it was probably one of the highlights of my short life up to that point. 

My parents were reasonably lenient about letting my brother and me engage in those “boys will be boys” activities, which were inherently dangerous but almost impossible to prevent unless they stood watch over us constantly.  You know, I’m thinking about things like climbing trees that were tall enough to kill or maim us, should a branch snap and we fell.  Or riding bikes helmetless while trespassing in the sand and gravel pits with signs clearly marked “Keep Out.”  Or hanging around the train tracks to put pennies on the rails before an engine came rumbling by Robie’s Store as we ate penny candy.  You catch my drift.

Still, my parents had their boundaries.  And handling flammable exploding projectiles was definitely off-limits.  Naturally, when the opportunity arose to handle this contraband unsupervised, I jumped at it.  Fortunately, this is not going to be a story where someone was terribly burned or lost an eyeball.  

The reason that I mention this memory is because Tilly has transported me back to that Fourth of July long ago.  The coolest part to me of playing with fireworks that day was lighting bottle rockets.  I would place the long and narrow red wooden stick with my right hand into an empty twelve ounce bottle that I held with my left.  Then, I’d light the wick until I saw the yellow spark and accompanying hiss.  Next, I’d hold the bottle up over my head at an angle to ensure maximum height until eventually – a sudden *whoosh* sound occurred and the rocket would lift off leaving a trail of sparks.  The moment would culminate with a loud, high-pitched *eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee,* then a pause, and finally – the denouement – an exploding pop that temporarily rang in our ears.

Tilly makes almost this exact same noise when she is feeling ignored.  Typically, we’re at the kitchen table and we’re not feeding her fast enough.  Or, we may have left the table and abandoned her in her high chair, so she signals that we’ve left her behind.  When you turn around to acknowledge Tilly and confirm that you, in fact, heard her loud and clear, she smiles triumphantly and kicks her short sausage link legs.  I can’t help but laugh and smile back at her.  Or kiss her beautifully chubby cheeks.

As a result, I’ve re-named Tilly as the “Bottle Rocket.”  Greta, formerly known as the Pterodactyl when she was the same age, seems to like the name, too.  I hope it sticks. 

Now just in case my Bottle Rocket is ever at your house for a July Fourth party, or any party for that matter, she is definitely not allowed to light any fireworks – at least until I go first.  

Quick One

Music fans, please check out my cousin's recent blog post. 

Great stuff: http://peculiargentlemen.blogspot.com/.

Belated Cornucopia

For the last few weeks, I’ve started writing a blog typically too late at night (on a weekend night only, of course) and almost assuredly after that last unnecessary glass of wine.  In any event, most of the ideas were weak and not what I’d consider up to snuff for THE READERS. 

For example, I launched into a 769-word exegesis regarding the songs “I Will Wait” by Mumford & Sons and “Rivers and Roads” by The Head and The Heart.  I hypothesized how the rhythm and crescendo of each song were like snippets of varying sexual escapades.   Once I started to re-read the post, it became clear that there was no real connection to fatherhood other than discussing the process in which a couple may produce a baby.  Consequently, that diatribe did not make the cut - though I’d be happy to discuss the theory with anyone if we cross paths at a party or something.

Then, I started writing about how the kids have become picky when eating meat proteins as of late, yet I discovered that all three of them are huge fans of bacon.  (I never realized this until a breakfast that I made a few weeks ago - I know, inexcusable.)  But then I admitted that bacon seems to get a lot of air play these days, so I got gun shy when I couldn’t think of a cool spin on swine.

A different draft that I threw away was inspired following a night out with the guys when we were commiserating about our honey-do lists.  We weren’t complaining about the chores at all.  We were just laughing about how our wives think that every project takes sixty minutes or less.  We called it the “magic hour.” 

Mow the lawn?  Her estimate - 10 minutes.  His estimate - 90 minutes if you include weed wacking, 120 minutes if you include raking, engine maintenance, clearing debris from the walkways and driveway, etc. 

Assemble something from IKEA?  Her estimate - 30 minutes.  His estimate - 60 minutes.  For me - at least three hours, which includes the inevitable call to customer service about a part that seems to be missing. 

Anyway, the draft started off kind of funny but there wasn’t enough material for a complete blog there.

So, I decided ultimately to revisit the “hodgepodge” concept.  It is a lazy man’s way of writing a proper entry.  Basically, each of the following would be good fodder for “Side Bar” or “For the Record” entries, but I’ve got nothing else to go on and I don’t want to go a whole month without posting.  Without further ado...

~~~~

For better or worse, my awareness of things chic and hip arrives at a glacial pace.  For the last few weeks, or maybe months, I’ve heard both the phrase “Gangnam Style” and the actual song itself.  However, I never connected the song’s title and the song itself until very recently, which made me feel like I was an octogenarian.

When my epiphany occurred and I linked together what were previously two separate concepts, I felt a bit euphoric in knowing that I would be able to google the lyrics.  For the longest time, I’ve been singing “Woke up condom star” in lieu of “Oppan Gangnam Style” and it’s been killing me because I knew I was way off base.  (You laugh, but I dare you to sing “Woke up condom star” next time you hear the song – it’s on all the time – and tell me you don’t think I was at least in the neighborhood.  

Anyway, here is a link to the lyrics if you care:  http://www.lyricsfreak.com/p/psy/gangnam+style_21031735.html.  I anticipate Gangnam will ultimately go the same way of “Who let the dogs out?,” “All I want to do is a zoom, zoom, zoom, and a boom boom,” and “I wish I was a little bit taller” but let’s just enjoy it while it lasts.

Speaking of songs whose words I don’t know, can someone please tell me what “Some Nights” is about by the band “fun.”?  I’m not sure if it is a happy song or a sad one.  The beat tells me it’s happy but then that part in the song towards the end when the singer talks about looking into his nephew’s eyes gets me all confused.  I know I could google these lyrics but I want to figure it out for myself if possible.

~~~~

Recently read Full Dark, No Stars by Stephen King.  It is a collection of four novellas that published in 2009 or 2010.  I really loved it.  All four stories were dark.  But each of them were dark for different reasons.  I believe one of them is currently in production for a film.  While I wouldn’t say this collection of novellas is anything close to Different Seasons, which included “Shawshank Redemption,” “Apt Pupil,” and “The Body,” (titled “Stand by Me” at the movies) I recommend it for anyone who enjoys horror fiction.

While we are here, I wanted to quote a blurb from what King wrote in his afterward.  I feel dorky saying this, but I found the message really inspiring.

 “From the start … I felt that the best fiction was both propulsive and assaultive.  It gets in your face.  Sometimes it shouts in your face.  I have no quarrel with literary fiction, which usually concerns itself with extraordinary people in ordinary situations, but as both a reader and a writer, I’m much more interested by ordinary people in extraordinary situations.  I want to provoke an emotional, even visceral, reaction in my readers.  Making them think as they read is not my deal.  I put that in italics, because if the tale is good enough and the characters vivid enough, thinking will supplant emotion when the tale has been told and the book set aside (sometimes with relief.)”

Fucking brilliant.  Couldn’t have written it better.  And that part about setting the book aside with relief – I felt that way when I finished Full Dark, No Stars because the stories made me feel uncomfortable in a good way, if that makes sense.

~~~~

Lana Del Rey?  I don’t deny that she’s talented.  In fact, I do like her voice.  But I’m not sold on her style of music.  At least, just not yet.  And I can’t say that I know anyone who has ever said they are a fan of hers.  Does anyone care enough to try to convince me otherwise?

~~~~

As made abundantly clear by my Gangnam discussion above, I’m one of the least qualified to ever discuss what current fad is now or suddenly passé.  However, I am amused and equally appalled by the sudden resurgence of two trends I’ve seen on the streets recently, which harken back to the late 80’s and early 90’s: flat top hair cuts (a la Kid-n-Play) on African-American men and pegging the pant legs.  I can’t say that I am surprised by the hair style, but the pegging is a shocker to me.  While I fancied myself a pretty good pegger, I couldn’t hold a candle to the peg-skills of my buddy Noonan.  I’m praying that he embraces the fad’s resurgence. 

~~~~

November, 2012 in my household will go down in my book as the bodily secretion trifecta. 

Exhibit 1: Tilly has pooped in the tub three times.  It’s like Caddy Day At The Pool from Caddyshack except I don’t have an assistant groundskeeper to clean up the doodie. 

Exhibit 2: Gus has developed a knack for nailing me with a golden shower when changing his diaper. 

Exhibit 3: Greta puked all over me and sort of into my mouth a few weeks ago as I carried her from her bed to the bathroom.  Perhaps due to my pledging days at Kappa Sig, this did not bother me as much as it probably should. 

All three of them have colds as of tonight, so add mucus and phlegm as a wildcard to the list.  Fingers crossed, they'll be back to normal sooner rather than later.

I’m really looking forward to December, 2012.