BorkUncle

What can I say, BorkUncle is one of those things that tends to defy explanation. Like the words Jamey and I used to use to elaborate on “dibs”. Remember Clickitat? Anyway, BorkUncle morphed from one thing to the next, between one 3 year old mind and the other (mine), from one game to another such that you don’t know how you got where you landed but damn it feels natural at the time and it’s funny like a 5 minute tummy tickler.

Let me ‘splain, partly for a peek into “a day in the life” and partly for posterity.

The Bork:

I was singing Abby’s Alouette song about 3-4 weeks ago but I didn’t know the French words. So I filled the gap with nonsense and my imagination (lack of) quickly degenerated into nothing but Borkish ala The Swedish Chef.

Two days ago, while playing Buttercup and Wesley (running down the hall at full speed into my arms and knocking me over) Abby and I fell back on the old standby of tickle-letmego-tickleme-letmego-tickleme-letmego. Something she was saying in mid-tickle quickly got mushed together and she said ‘Bork’ instead. I laughed out loud at the ingenious application of Borkish…but then it changed again to the point where I questioned whether she was asking for mercy.

The Uncle:

Do you want me to stop?
BORK! [affirmative tone]
Okay. [I stop]
BORK!
Were you, like, crying uncle or…?
Bor….Whadyou say?
I asked if you were “crying uncle”. You know, asking me to stop?
Uncle?
Yeah, Uncle.
[pause then at the top of her lungs] Bork!…[and then]….UNCLE!

The BorkUncle:
I was cracking up. Since we had already backed down to tickleme-letmego and my laughter momentarily disengaged the tickleme part she tried to tackle me and, naturally protecting my vitals from ‘V is for Vitalslayer’, I pushed her up over my head and she flipped her legs over her own head and well, describing it just doesn’t do it justice. But because I was laughing so hard, the last words she said ‘Bork Uncle’ became the thing she said before the maneuver and, well take a look for yourself and observe the newest game for three year olds sweeping the neighborhood. Behold the BorkUncle.
BorkUncle High Res (1.7MB)
BorkUncle Low Res (868K)

Car Accident

To begin with, we are fine.
Angela and I were coming home from the Opera (sounds so cliche) which was my birthday present from Mom and Dad (Monya and Bop-Op) tonight and it was deja-vu all over again.
Angela 5-6 mo’s pregnant
Coming down Renton Ave and the pregnant genes want french fries.
So I slowed down to take the right turn into McD’s and she warned me “Ahh ah” because she thought I might enter the turn lane too soon. There is a right-only turn just before the entrance to McD and when she was pregnant with Abby at 5-6 mo’s she was hit in that same spot by a guy travelling down that lane in error.
So I let off the brakes, continued my signal to the right and coasted to the correct place to turn right. My rearview mirror flashed with headlights and I saw a car coming too fast behind me from the left rear and he was immediately out of view as I turned. I said “WHOA!” and immediately thought, ‘Whew! He went past on my left side’ …about the time Angela did her version of “WHOA!” as he struck the passenger side front door of Petey (Short for PT Cruiser). He also struck the curb and flattened his right front tire as well as slightly damaging his left front quarter panel where he swiped me.

Got out, exchanged information as best as my adrenaline-addled mind could muster and in the end I didn’t get his address or an insurance policy number.
Got his name and phone and license plate number.
With no cell phone and no apparent pay phone I waited to call the police till I got home.
Turns out he had a suspended license, probably doesn’t have insurance and I have two doors, a fender, and the decorative underbody/frame to repair.
Sure glad I didn’t change my insurance coverage last week to increase all my deductibles etc. 🙂

Angela seems fine and I seem fine, it really was a glancing blow, but I know that we had better go see someone first thing tomorrow just to make sure. Just tensing our muscles and then having an impact is enough to strain a thing or two. Just physics.
Car impacts are nothing to sneeze at unfortunately…and we get in cars everyday like drinking water or having a meal.

Something like that always makes one contemplative and glad to have all that we do.
Abby is still screaming her blinkin head off, after a long night of stories, fun, and play with Monya and Bop-Op, trying to get herself to sleep and tonight her screams are like music.

Tearjerker

Okay, you all just better take care what you wish for…I may just pull out a tearjerker to balance the scales.
Take this for example:
Friday night Angela, Abby, and I drove to Vancouver, WA for Jamey G. and his 5th birthday party on Saturday! It was quite the affair, lots of swimming and presents and cake. It was a lot of fun. You can see more of it at Jamey’s Flickr Site.
The uncommon excitement for us started at 9:45 Friday night. We rolled into the Salmon Creek Motel, booked online with 2 out of 5 stars. Budget room for a budget trip right? We got more than we bargained for.

Rolling up it was obviously a cut-rate affair. Abby was being extremely good but it was two hours after bedtime and she was just getting wound up.
We get our key and move the car to the back of the glorified shack, under the stairs, next to the dumpster and the abandoned car. The rain dripping like a Shakespearean tradgedy. Hopped up on Monster Energy, I dutifully unpacked my girls.

Thinking to myself.
Hm that’s funny, the smell in here reminds me of the FourPlex in the Highlands?
Keep unpacking, ignoring my animal instinct to flee.

Oh wise one, keeper of the crystal ball and bearer of enough common sense to know when enough is enough (ala Joe Lake hiking trip circa 2001).

We are not staying here.

One thing I have learned in the last 5 years is when you hear that command in her voice, something is really wrong. It has a period at the end of it, not a question mark or ellipses. It just is. (For those of you doing the math…that is right, I only first learned it 2 + years in).

Abby, dopey and tired: Where are we going?
Daddy, just plain dopey: We are going to change rooms honey.
Why?
Cause Mommy has a crystal ball for things like this.

I didn’t really say that, mind you, but I am the one telling this story now so I can festoon it with whatever clever witticisms I came up with 10 minutes after the fact that I wish I would have said at the time. To be clear, I was thinking that, at least.
So I approached the front desk and used the best line in the book. They never tell you this perk comes with the package when you marry, but I am telling you now, if you aren’t married, it is one of the best perks outside of…well…children. The Blame Shifting Perk.

My wife is really creeped out by that room back there. Is there any way we can get switched to a compar….
Oh sure, (she hastily shot me a knowing look)
Room 26, right next to the office.

I thought to myself, ‘She is so kind. She knows what it is like to have a wife who gets creeped out easily by abandoned cars. Or she at least knows about The Blame Shifting Perk. And no charge! I am such a great negotiator.’
Again, there you go ignoring the instincts Dopey.

Right next to the office, all lit up, next to the friendly lady that stays up all night next door to meet wayward travellers. What could be better?

What could be worse. It is fortunate The Crystal Ball never lets down it’s guard.
A quick round trip to the bathroom in this gigantic, incomparable upgrade is met with a sneer.

Abby: “Can I jump on the bed?” more of a statement really as she is already actively partaking.
Daddy: Unpacking the car.
Mommy: Straight from bathroom reconnaissance performs due diligence on the sheets.
Daddy: Just setting down the last bag and closing the door.
Abby: b O u N c I n G

There are HAIRS in the sheets.

There it is again, that sound? That surety of position that ends in a simple, unstated period.
I lean in for a closer look and notice more. Only a three year old can add the necessary clarity.

there’s HAIRS and BOOGIES in THEBED!

Angela says: What are we going to do?

Now this, as approximately half of you know, really means ‘what are YOU going to do because I have done my part, I have paid attention to my crystal ball, I haven’t ignored my instincts And there is no way on this green earth I am putting my baby in either of these ginormous beds And I will take action if necessary but I am allowing you this one chance to atone for your cheapness.’

I weakly offer some options.

“We can sleep on top of the beds?”
“Or maybe the floor?”
Abby: Again a small voice of reason. She must get it from her mother. Like it’s a game she says:
C’mon Mom! Let’s get ANOTHER hotel!

Shake it off. Listen to yourself. Listen to Abby. The window of atonement is rapidly closing.
Dopey? Hello, McFly? You are not backpacking across Europe. If this is grossing YOU out think about what it must be like in reality.

Without another syllable I strode out and back to the front office where I laid it on the line, no blame shifting this time (maybe I am growing?).
I got a refund.

Maybe it was the look in my eye or maybe it was the true knowledge behind that previous ‘knowing look’ the lady had launched only minutes before.
If she was a good at poker she would have read my tell. She could have kept her $45 and I would have taken it as a cheap lesson. There was no way we were staying there that night.

So for the third time that night we ( I ) packed the car, we drove up the road to The Shilo Inn and a mere two hours after we rolled into town Abby was sleeping soundly in a clean and comfortable bed, her soft little blonde hair strewn on a clean pillow.
In May she will share a clean pillow with her baby brother or sister.

There’s a Fiesta in my oven

Lessons in pizza making.
Immutable Lesson #1 – Natural Gas is flammable and explosive
Immutable Lesson #2 – Even two year old girls have more common sense than two adult males.

My gas range/oven combo recently stopped working; the oven flame wouldn’t light, I couldn’t eat dinner and we smelled gas. Being less adventurous on my own I called BopOp to bolster my courage. After a bit of brief phone-detective he said “Maybe I should just come over?” I said ‘Yes’, already feeling the magic.
Forty minutes, one drill, eight wrenches, two flashlights, one green dental mirror, one black fluffy feather, and a ten gallon hat full of confidence later the oven is somewhat apart and attention is focused on the offending natural gas nozzle.

Abby: (Resolutely referring to her dental mirror on the floor)That is for in your mouth not under the oven.
All: (Distractedly) We know honey. Thanks for letting us borrow it
Abby: Its for in your mouth. Can I have it back please?

With the lower drawer extracted so we could get at the important bits BopOp is on the floor on his side with the black fluffy feather purposefully perched over the nozzle to indicate flow when the nozzle is asked to perform. The rub is that the nozzle isn’t asked to perform by the overly complex circuitry until such time as the small electrical element located very near to the nozzle reaches the appropriate operating temperature somewhere around 1200° F
At this point Angela is in the adjoining room on my laptop looking at new ovens.

Angela: We can get a cheap one for $250!
Abby: (of Angela) Mommy? Can I have my mirror back now? It is on the floor.

Despite the fact that we brimming with Zimmerman and our confidence is riding a wave of success BopOp and I are acutely aware of the power inherent in the combination of natural gas and extreme localized temperatures so we are taking every precaution. For instance, I took it upon myself to make sure the door was mostly closed while I observed at close range the performance of said nozzle and I took the important step to ensure my finger was poised adroitly over the Set/Cancel button should the unlikely need arise. And I mean he has a feather for chrissakes. ‘Safety First’.

Abby: (still from the other room) Daddy!? Can I have my mirror back now? Don’t step on it cause it’s on the floor.

Just then, element glowing proudly, my finger poised skillfully, Abby’s black fluffy feather positioned neatly by BopOp incapable of retreat, the nozzle which previously had responded to no small amount of cajoling by the cowboys in ten gallon hats sprang to life with a menacing and unsociable “BbBbBbBbggggggggggPOW!”

‘Gas? Welcome to the party. Allow me to introduce you to Twelvehundred Degrees and his best friend Oxygen.’

BopOp: Whoaaa! <incoherent> TURNITOFF! TURNITOFF!

Quick as a catnap I deactivated the source of the yellow flame prancing it’s way around Angela’s oven. Quicker than that Abby, toddler extraordinaire and momentarily abandoning her unrequited longing for the forlorn green dental mirror, calmly and skillfully closed the door/firebreak to the adjoining room saying to Angela:

Abby: That was polite. That’s OK right?

The result?
One charred black feather
At least One hairless finger (BopOp)
One green dental mirror returned
One fixed oven, not the worse for it’s hotflash and
Immutable lesson #3: One smallish and disagreeable MexiFiesta Taco-Pizza is certainly not worth the wrestle.

All I needed to hear

Last night Angela and I had a night off. Abby went to Gramma Nana’s house eyes wide and full of energy while we went to a movie and then a party. The movie, Flightplan, had a 6 year old character in it that made me want to call Abby, I don’t mind saying it made me miss her. So when we arrived at the party I grabbed a phone and called Nana’s.

“Can I talk to Abby?”
“Sure.”
<pause>
<noise like a phone in the dryer>
“HIIIIII!” (no patented Lenhart singsong lilt to this one)
“Hi honey, are you having fun?” (a reasonable question considering her vigorous hello)
“Yeah, and we’re getting ready for bed and so YOU CAN’T COME!”
“Don’t worry honey, I won’t come over.”
“Okay. you can’t come. b-bye.”

Not even three but that was all I needed to hear.