That shower door though.
almost home
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH


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@mirjamswanson
That shower door though.

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Context-Free Quote From an Interview I Had Today
“It’s a slow cooker; you don't want microwave a new minister."
Context-Free Quote From a Text I Got Yesterday
“How beautiful good friends are.”
Another Context-Free Quote From an Interview I Had Today
I don’t do death well. Funerals and death? Phew. Absolute killers.
IZZO & ARTHUR: Oh, oh yeah.
(Originally emailed Oct. 17, 2015)
Good morning!
I'd like to dedicate this one to the newest reader affiliate, two-day-old Padres fan Kellen Smith, whose much ballyhooed arrival was timed to coincide perfectly with end of the Dodgers' season. But it's OK; Arthur gets it. Presented with a photo of the young Emperor, our resident King couldn't contain his glee: "He's naked! And he has on a hat! Mommy, he's naked and he has on a hat!"
He's telling you, Big Brother Trevor: "Buddy, you're gonna have fun with this."
Just ask Abba and Grandpa, who swooped in for a quick visit a week ago and got to see that Arthur's first priority is, indeed, Izzo.
"You no yell at my sister!" he tells me and Hamlet when we're getting on her case.
Izzo, after all, has taught Arthur everything he knows. (Except for all the stuff he knows or thinks he knows that she didn't teach him.)

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IZZO & ARTHUR: #Hashtags ... #UCCStrong
(Originally emailed Oct. 4, 2015.)
Good afternoon, good people.
Daddy's on his way home and a freshly napped Arthur's gonna want to go play with his friends soon and so, yeah, this'll have to be quick: Izzo's mommy has been making Izzo use deodorant in the mornings. What? She's 8. Since when are 8-year-olds on the verge of puberty?
She's also splitting her time between watching (so far seemingly appropriate, I swear) satires of My Little Pony and reading "I Survived" books about all sorts of disasters -- the Titanic, volcanoes, nuclear meltdowns, tsunamis (she clearly has a special place in her heart for Japan) ...
For a minute, I was thinking these were relatively weird entertainment choices for a third-grader -- until I realized, I was in third grade, I do believe, when I fell in love with the movie "Willow," which was all sorts of violent and scary in a knights-and-magic fantastical way.
Arthur, meanwhile, says stuff like this: "#CatHat," by which I mean, "HASHTAG Cat Hat." Also, "Excuse me, I had a little burp," and "I'm not mad, I'm ridiculous!" (#Truth.)
Context-Free Quote From an Interview I Did Today
“If it is to be, it’s up to me.”
Context-Free Quote From an Event I Covered Today
“When your mom is mad at your dad, don’t let her brush your hair.”
(June 21, 2015)
G'morning.
Will you guys join me in a toast of lukewarm coffee, to this next week. To this next week being not as sad for our country as this past one? Clink, clink-clink.
We've got NRA folks blaming gun control, a governor blaming a lack of gun control, political pundits blaming conservative news, presidential candidates attributing the tragedy to an attack on religion or turning the focus to drugs, friends Facebook-arguing about mental health vs. hate crime, terrorism and racism, everyone pointing their fingers in every direction.
I haven't talked to my dad about this yet, but I remember him once describing an act of senseless violence as evil. Just, evil.
IZZO & ARTHUR: Real talk
(June 6, 2015)
Dear Mamas and Papas! Friends and Fam! My Kids in the Future? My future self? My fellow time-beings ... hey, You!
So I woke up early to write, but as Hamlet left to go hiking, Arthur ordered me back to bed for "more hugs," and who could resist? But now it's 8:30 and, well, we'll see what comes in between visits from the boy who's all into this show-and-tell he's got going as a result of his rummaging through the Playmobile in the next room.
It's the telling that I have to tell you about.

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IZZO & ARTHUR: We came back with an 8-year-old
(May 30, 2015)
You guys. These kids.
"Are we there yet?" So almost 8-year-olds really ask that, do they? Every 10 minutes on the minute (or so) for the 3.5 hours it took us to reach San Diego's La Jolla Shores last Saturday. "How much longer?" And then, finally, after adhering to Uncle Google's advice to allegedly save some time navigating sticky surface traffic instead of dead-stop freeway traffic, we exited (the freeway) for good. Onto Genesee, but instead of turning up toward Torrey Pines Golf Course, as Mommy had dozens of times as a sportswriter, we stayed straight and that's when something inspired Izzo, so clearly delirious from the journey, to instruct, "Spell I-cup, Mommy."
"I-cup? What's I-cup?"
"Just spell it!"
"I-cup? I-C-U.... P."
IZZO & ARTHUR: A sidebar... an almost EIGHT-year-old?!
(May 23, 2105)
Hi, hello, hola, hollllaaaaaa!, right quick.
I once wrote a sidebar from a college football game in 12 minutes. Let's see if I can pull a similar stunt here, this morning, before the dye on my head requires washing out. Yeah, random, I know.
We're goin' on a trip, goin' on a trip. A quick dash down to San Diego on account of Izzo turning 8.
Eight.
EIGHT.
Couple weekends ago enjoyed what felt like a sneak preview of this weekend with a Sunday afternoon jaunt to Venice, where Izzo played -- alive and free and spritely, her thin, longer-all-the-time legs and quick feet skittering in a way that doesn't happen on normal land -- in the waves while Arthur knelt, teeth chattering, in the sand, filling one buck after another with "sand castle," before meeting my gaze and announcing, "FREEZING, Mommy."
They're a living, breathing opposites act, these two.
Dinner followed. Izzo discovered edamame. And Arthur's presence in the world rocked the world of our waiter, Arthur, who said he'd lived on this planet for 47 years and never met another Arthur that wasn't related to him.
****
OK, for the record, that race to meet deadline at the USC game once upon a time didn't include Izzo's sing-yelling in the next room about "I'm the queen of the sea, Prin-cess Splasha!/I'm the queen of the dogs of the century, Prin-cess Co-co-nut!" (Harry Belafonte would approve?)
***
Grabbed a Toblerone bar (and, seriously, the best coffee I've had in months) for the dessert at the convenience shop across the street, piled us and our stuff in Hamlet's car for the drive home and then got on the road, at which point, Daddy Hamlet asked for a piece of chocolate.
Oh, I'd put that in the bag that was in the trunk. Quietly, and purely as a tease between teammates, Hamlet goes, "What the f---, Mommy?" And, without missing a beat, Mr. Ears in the backseat chimes in, "The f---, Mommy! The f---, Mommy!" And, of course, Izzo gets to giggling, as do the parental units up front. And that was Arthur's que: "THE F---, MOMMY! THE F---! THE F---, MOMMY, THE F---!?" We pulled over before we reached the freeway to retrieve the chocolate and to try to stop laughing while trying also to explain to the sweet baby boy with the sweetest little voice that that wasn't actually an appropriate thing to be yelling at your mommy...
Context-Free Quote From an Interview I Had Recently
“I probably taste like a Starbucks trash can.”
IZZO & ARTHUR: Living the dream
What was I going to tell you? One of those mornings here at the keyboard.
Well, there's this: Sending love your way, you guys. Hope your week behaved itself and that you're feeling well and bless your hearts for putting up with me and my stories, like this one, I guess I'll tell, about Open House.
Surely, you read that, just "open house." But I hear the movie guy, Don LaFontaine, in all his rich, cheesy, ominous voiceover glory, sounding it out: "Open House."
In a world where parents are free to torment their children, even the happiest little ones are forced rebel.
Dunh-dunh-DUNH.
My boy. My sweetheart. My charmer. My gazinik. My, my, my I needed a drink after all this....
IZZO & ARTHUR: Booful, trrble Thinking & thanks!
(April 25)
Hey, hey, my monkeys are downstairs staring, with permission, at the television ("Jessie") so I can quick-punch some letter keys and make an update (actually, my heart is warmed by the clicking and clacking of Duple blocks I'm hearing along with the cheesy dialogue of Izzo's favorite show) ...
Fairly recently, Arthur saw a picture Izzo drew of a fairy and brought it to me: "Booful!" He requests "moosk" now, too, either coming to find me with the Beats pill in hand or while we're driving to or from Tatik's -- "moosk, Mommy, moosk!" And if I think of playing anything beside his four favorite "Mini Gaga" songs during those car rides, well, I'm going to hear something other than "moosk" form my boy, who might actually prove partial to the heavy stuff, the really, really loud stuff, the headbangy, moshpitty, let-out-a-monstery-growwwwwl stuff. That's all Daddy, whose son stops and smells the flowers, sniff-sniff... sniff. That's Tatik. And sometimes, life is just "trrble." Like when he drops a half-spoonful of his oatmeal between his bowl and his mouth, that, in Arthur's developing lexicon, is "trrble, Mommy, trrble."

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IZZO & ARTHUR: Friends
(April 11)
Hello again! How, dear friends, are YOU? Sorry for the extended intermission; life and Easter egg hunts getting in the way of chronicling life.
So it's been about a month and they're all grown up now. Well, they're growing.
Arthur told me dinner was "terrble" a few weeks back and I asked him who taught him to talk. But I wasn't offended because I realize the kid can't know what words fit until he tries them on and, in this case, he ate all of his apparently not-so-terrble salmon.
The sunlight sticks around longer so the complex kids do too, and Arthur loves it. After work and especially on weekend eves, dinner gets delayed because a pack of wild horses couldn't drag him away from the wild horses charging through our building.
In the scene, our boy plays the role of everybody's little brother, fitting snugly under everyone's wing, and semi-remarkably so. The kids who should order Arthur to scram, they let him in, let him play, allow him to give chase and kick the ball, shoot the ball and zig-zag between them as they float bubbles or aim their bows... and so he does, seemingly totally unaware that he's smaller than the others because he's so One Of Them.
Context-Free Quote From My Neighbor
The shit you have to put up with when you’re perceptive.