We went to our local Verizon Wireless store yesterday to check out the phones I previously mentioned here.
I guess they do this new thing now where you kind of… sign in when you get to the store, and then when your name is called – well, we actually don’t know because we didn’t stick around for our name to be called. Maybe when it’s your turn, you have a personal salesperson to harass you?
The Droid isn’t as bad as I had perceived it. Plus, it has a keyboard, which I think I like better than the touchscreen keyboard. The iPod touch I have is, as you’re aware, a phone-less iPhone. I’ve used the touchscreen keyboard on it quite a bit, and it isn’t horrible. I think that Anna and I agree that we like keyboards better than the touchscreen. The Eris was also nice, however neither of us had any clue how to actually operate the dang things, so they look nice and great, but we weren’t able to accomplish anything of value.
It turns out that Android 2.0 will be available on almost all Android phones, so getting two free Eris’s isn’t sounding like that bad of a deal. Waiting doesn’t sound like that bad of a deal. Buying a Droid doesn’t seem that bad anymore.
So what did I do? I put it up to Anna. She can’t decide if she wants a smartphone or not, but doesn’t want to miss the upgrade opportunity. She’s also very concerned about the touchscreen and gloves, since as you know, it’s always below freezing here in Colorado. Luckily there are stylish offering like these, or as Joe tells me, Marvie knows great gloves that will work with her iPhone.
I could get by with either, but I’d lean towards the Droid simply because it has more power. I could also stand to wait for the N1, or any other myriad of phones that will likely be released between today and “the spring”.
Well, some of them, anyway.
I woke up this morning to play with Owen while mama slept a bit more. He’s crawling and climbing everywhere and anything. This includes dad, his personal jungle gym and obstacle course. He can pull himself up on my pants, and also pull my pants down.
My current favorite is that when I lay on the ground, he’s crawling and climbing on me whenever he can. Sometimes I’m not wearing a shirt.
Did you know chest hair is a really good handle for pulling yourself up? Because Owen has learned that already.
Anna still makes me watch Lost.
I keep finding things like this article, which you’d think would allow me to stop watching Lost, but nope.
At least this year, it will end. And it will be horribly unsatisfying, which would fit the show’s lifespan just fine.
This link is for my minivan coveting wife.
The CRV is twelve and showing no major signs of death. Let it ride!
Not the Obama’s, the Lamb’s!
On 5 December, we went with our friends the Adams’s to get our first family Christmas tree.
For the first few years we lived here, Anna and I went to a tree farm to get our tree. It was a small farm, and they usually had coupons that came in those mailer things that you can’t stop getting even if you opt out. You know, the one with all the pictures of babies on vent and HVAC cleaning ads? Because everybody knows if you don’t get your vents cleaned every day, your child could possibly inhale something.
Last year, we went to our tree farm to find out that it was no longer there, and instead there was a shiny new shopping center. We did what any normal American would do in this situation – shopped in the new shopping center. Then, afterwards, we went to one of those parking-lot tree sales places and got a pretty good tree for not too much money. And it was alive, too!
This year, we did something really cool: on a tip from the Adams’s, we purchased a permit to go into Pike National Forest and cut down a tree. We got a baby carrier from Craigslist, strapped the boy to my back, and hiked into the forest about twenty feet and a climb in elevation of about twenty feet before starting to pant heavily. Not only am I horribly out of shape, but Owen is also quite heavy.
The tree we got – not really sure what it is. It’s pine of some flavor, with pinecones as a natural ornamentation, and no squirrels or birds in it. It’s a little less thick than some of our other trees we’ve had, but it’s cool because the whole family hiked into the forest to get it. Would do again – pictures here.
Have some more pictures for you to look through. Mostly Owen, as is to be expected nowadays.
I did manage to sneak some non Owen pictures in there. Anna took some pictures of the various berries growing in our yard, and I’m making pickles. I’m following Anna’s family’s recipe for dill pickles. Pickles are weird, as they are fermented, and I’m getting to watch them ferment. Lots of scum and gases from the bacteria that do the pickling. They smell great, but they look… like rotting cucumbers. And that’s what they are!
Some of the pictures weren’t taken by us, they were taken by Lindy’s little sister, who has Fashion Photography degree from the Fashion Institute of Technology. Basically, she took the good ones, and the other ones either Anna or I took.
I’m sure the folks reading that are parents will probably smile and nod about the events I’m about to describe. This literally just happened, so it’s almost like breaking news.
It was time to feed Owen. Usually this means we check his diaper, which wakes him up. This time, his diaper was wet and had to be replaced.
Now, changing a diaper with a little boy is a lot like this scene:
And this time I was prepared. I had the kid covered so he couldn’t pee on me, himself, everywhere. It was righteous. Little did I know the clever child is aware when his instrument of destruction is uncovered, because in the two second window it took for me to swap diapers and remove the pee blocker, he saw his opportunity and wet himself, his onesie, his outfit, and the changing pad. It’s happened infrequently enough that it is still highly amusing.
So, mission change: let’s give him a quick bath before feeding, since he’s now covered himself in pee. So I begin to strip him down to his birthday suit while Anna prepares the bath stuff. I’ve got him laying and fussing on my chest while he’s nakie baby, when he decides to poop. On me – but just a little. It was kind of like a warning shot – enough to make me take notice, but not enough for a full blown panic. We wipe him up and he’s still a bit fussy, but we’re figuring, “hey, bathtime, no big deal.”
So I go to the bathing place and set him on a bath towel while getting the water warm enough to wash his head. At the sound of the water, some primitive urge let him know that this time, right now, is the most opportune time to violently evacuate his bowels. And this is precisely what he does – he shoots all over himself, the towel, the floor, and the bathmat. I’m impressed he’s got that kind of velocity!
Our rapid response team (grandma, Anna) got it wiped up right quick, and I was bathing him anyway so it wasn’t a huge deal. It was, however, highly entertaining.
Anna sent me this:
Which yields this:
