Jenna's Quote of the Day

We were sitting downstairs, still revelling in our post-Yuletide haze, opening selections from the mountain of toys that has collapsed in our living room. I decided to open one present for each of the kids: for Riley, I chose his 1:18 scale Abrams tank, for Mason his Twist and Learn Monkey dumbbells, and for Jenna, her Baby Dora the Explorer.

I opened each, ignoring the dull ache in my fingertips (an injury of repetition, from continuously untwisting those metal wire ties that hold the toys unnecessarily snugly into their packaging), and giving the toys to each child. When I finished the Dora, I announced, "Here's your Dora Baby, Jen."

Her reply: "I not Baby Jen!"

That's My Girl!

Anyone who knows me well knows I've been a  huge Star Trek fan for years. When I was a teenager I lived for "Star Trek: The Next Generation," just about wet myself every time a new Trek movie came out, and watched the shows (mostly TNG and its contemporaries) religiously.

I've managed to sneak "Trek" into the lives of my kids over my wife's objections (mostly to Jenna, about whom she said "let her be a little girl! Ease up on the sci fi stuff!" to which I retorted "she IS a little girl. There's room in her life for Star Trek and My Little Pony and baby dolls.").

Anyway, it's my daughter who has latched onto the new Star Trek movie. She especially likes the beginning, where Captain Kirk is born at the moment his father is sacrificing his life to save him. She always says "Mommy's tummy!" while his mother is giving birth.


If you know your sci fi, you know there's a bit of a rivalry between Star Trek fans and Star Wars fans. I of course fall heartily on the Trek side of things.


Riley and Jenna have drawn their lines in the sci fi sand as well. Riley likes to taunt his sister (and father) by asking "Are we watching Starwors?" knowing that it's Star Trek coming on.


Jenna popped back at him, "No, it Car Cack!"


That's my girl.

Christmas Shopping in the Digital Age

This year marks a change of sorts for us when it comes to Christmas shopping.

Living in Noblesville, relatively isolated from our trusted family, along with a schedule that leaves us little open time, we've taken to doing our Christmas shopping this year guerrilla style, one at a time, at odd hours, and have taken advantage of the technology at our fingertips.

Of course we've done some shopping online, but that's not exactly what I'm talking about (and there's still nothing like the tactile sensation of loading a shopping cart with presents). For instance, last night a late-evening trip to Wal-Mart for bottle inserts turned into an impromptu gift-buying excursion.

Crystal was at home with the kids, who were asleep at 10:30 when I left, and while we have something of an idea of what we want for our munchkins, of course there is still some element of spontenaeity to gift giving.

My chief tool (other than my trusty PayPal card, loaded with cash specifically set aside for Christmas shopping) was my new cell phone. I was able to check my PayPal balance, which was handy, but of course I really took advantage by texting Crystal ideas with photographic accompanyment.

We were able to pick out a few things for Mason, and I could get real-time input, where she was able to see what I bought and offer feedback.

And she even got to share in some of my signature snarky asides, specifically that a I saw a doll that looked exactly like one of Crystal's friend's daughter, and the fact that being in the "Christmas patio" (actually the repurposed lawn and garden center) is awfully creepy to be at 11 p.m., alone, with an army of dolls staring at you with their dead glass eyes, waiting to blurt out their evil baby talk at random intervals.

All in all, it was almost as fun and adventrous as shopping with the wife, and in some ways moreso.

Do I still wish we had a few hours to get some shopping done ourselves? Absolutely.

But these Christmas memories spend just the same as any other.