Table Scraps Volume #6: Outgrowing Stuff

I do a lot of writing. Sometimes the words don't add up to full blog posts, even though I like what they have to say. Occasionally, I will put them out as little bits I call Table Scraps.

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I was tucking Sprout in on one of those rare nights when she actually let me tuck her in. I turned on her noise machine--the one that plays ocean sounds that she has been using since she was first born to help her get to sleep. She suddenly bolted up, pointed at it and said, "off". She had outgrown the noise machine.

We took down the last baby gate in the house. The covers have come off of the oven knobs. The colored blocks I used to motivate the Bean to crawl sat in a pile with slightly chewed board books ready to be donated. These are the last vestigaes of my kids' lives as babies. Each milestone we pass and each thing we remove from our house is another piece of their childhood that will never come back. When we dismantle the swing and take the high chair to the curb, I realize that I will never use them again.

We took down the last baby gate. And as the covers are taken off doorknobs and as locks are removed from cupboards, I realize that these are the last vestiges of my kids’ lives as babies. Each milestone we pass, each thing we remove from our house is another piece of their childhood that we won’t get back. The last time we’ll need it. Sprout is the last child I will have and as she grows up and no longer needs baby things, they will be gone from my life forever.

I’m counting the day until we can get rid of the diaper genie.

Table Scraps, Volume #5: Peanuts and Parenting

Table Scraps are little bits of writing that aren't quite enough to be full posts. But just because they are little, doesn't mean they can't be shared. So every once in a while, I dust them off and throw them together.

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I took the Bean to his first sporting event, the Harlem Globetrotters. Sitting in the stands, I taught the Bean to shell peanuts, the way my dad taught me when he took me to sporting events. While he seemed to enjoy watching the game, he was more interested in putting the empty peanut shells on his fingers and entertaining his friend, who had come with us. And it dawned on me as I watched him that I have created a little ham.

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Everyone always talks about how daughters are supposed to loooooove their daddies. Daddies are their world. This has not happened to me with Sprout. Everytime I take what I think is a step forward in my relationship with her, she bluntly reminds me that I'm nowhere close to the center of her world. Right now, she refuses to give me hugs and kisses. Sometimes when I leave in the mornings, but always at night before she goes to bed. Sprout continues to cling to her mommy, just like she always has and maybe always will.  She is an impossibly frustrating child, wrapped up in a very cute package.  

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It feels like I spend my time parenting a pre-schooler being elated and completely mesmerized and entertained by him to being blindingly mad at him. WonderWife™ and I have very different parenting styles. Mine is to get really frustrated and mad at him, which is always a great way to parent.

Table Scraps Volume #4: Comic Con

I was all set to blog about this year's trip to the San Diego Comic Con in the days that followed the event. But then I got the stomach flu and by the time I recovered, it felt like the time had passed to write about it. But isn't that what the feature known as Table Scraps is all about--me posting half-finished blog pieces about the recent past?

Arriving in San Diego was much easier than it was last year. In the lobby of the hotel, I spied a man in his 60's in a Hawaiian shirt. He had the distinct vibe of somebody who was there for the Con. We made some pleasant chit-chat in the elevator. I said this was my 9th con. He said this was his 40th. And that he was one of the original founders of the show. I shook his hand and told him it was an honor, and he disappeared into a sea of nerds dressed as Stormtroopers.

The first few hours of the first day were strangely quieter than in the past few years. But I knew that was about to change, as nearly 150,000 of my chubby, sweaty brethren all packed into the giant building.

Later that evening, I overheard somebody asking a guy dressed as Batman if the Padres were going to be playing that night. Batman replied, "I have no idea." Dude, what did you think the answer was going to be?

There are no pictures of this year's show. Correction, there are tons of pictures all over the internet, but none have been taken by me. Last year's scant photos were an aberration. I usually forget to bring a camera. But I feel okay about that. Most of the traffic on the convention floor is caused by people stopping to take pictures in the middle of a crowded hallway.

I was walking the floor with a comic book writer, who goes to about 5-6 of these shows a year and has lost all patience for convention floor photos, had a solution to the traffic problem. He would plow his way through the crowd, nearly bowling over anyone who got in his way while bellowing, "Move people! Let's move!" It was both effective and cathartic.

There were a few really cool innovations in the toy booths. But the coolest is the toy you play with your mind. Yes, there is a toy that you can play with your mind! Needless to say, I want one.

On the last day, I pulled out of convention floor traffic and parked myself against a wall in order to check my phone. Somebody came up to me and asked me what I was in line for. Although there were people also standing on either side of me, we were clearly not a line. For a moment, I pondered telling this guy that I was waiting for tickets to an advance screening of Avatar or to shake Stan Lee's hand. But I decided to let him off the hook and tell him that there was no line--just a wall. Someday karma will return the favor.

Table Scraps Volume #3: Cooking & Movies as Gambling

There are so many little pieces of ideas that aren't quite enough for a full post. Seeing as being "green" is trendy these days, I like to recycle them every once in a while in a thing that I call Table Scraps.


I love to cook, though these days I don't do it very often. But when I do, I am not only compelled to tell people that I've cooked a meal, but also what I've cooked and how. I don't know why I do this. Conversing with me should not be like reading a menu. I'm confident that people don't care that the other night I made ahi tuna seared in sesame oil with edemame and garlic sautéed broccoli... (See, I'm doing it again.)

I know all of this, yet I pathologically keep doing it. Maybe it's because I watch too much Food Network, and have been conditioned by the chef/hosts to explain everything I do in the kitchen. Or maybe it's just a lame attempt to get attention by making something ordinary, like cooking food, seem extraordinary.

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Being a fan of blockbuster movies is a lot like going to Vegas. Sometimes you’re going to win and sometimes you’re going to lose. The key is that you have to set it in your mind that you're going to walk away a loser. The hope is always that you’ll win, but more often than not, the house will take your money. Something very important to remember with the summer movie season fast approaching.


You may have noticed that I've started Tweeting. Yes, I know that I've said it a few times that I didn't have time for Twitter, but it's hard to be geeky and ignore something that's infiltrated pop culture to the degree that Twitter has. I've never claimed to be anything more than a mindless follower. And speaking of following...why don't you head on over there and become one of mine?

Table Scraps Volume #2: Galoshes, Doh and Marbles

Most of the things I write wind up as full posts on this here blog. But every so often I'm find myself with bits and pieces of ideas that aren't enough of a meal to be served on their own. Here are a few more:

Since we’re at the beginning of what passes for winter here in Southern California, which is marginally chilly weather and about 4 inches of rain spread out over five and a half months, the Bean has had occasion to wear his new galoshes. They each have a dragon’s face covering the toes. Now he wants to wear them wherever he goes…raining or not.

The boots are big enough that he can put them on himself and he has the uncanny ability to put them on the wrong feet every single time and stubbornly refuses to switch them. He marches out the front door (into public mind you) with the boots pushing up his jeans, making them look like puffy director pants, and boots on the wrong feet, which cause him to walk with a wobbly gait. He looks like a demented soldier.

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Who is the bigger kid: the Bean, who loves to play with Play Doh and his marble run, or me, who loves to play with Play Doh and the marble run?

The Bean got some awesome gifts for his birthday. A Play Doh sized tub filled with an insane amount of accessories (I’m serious…more than I ever had as a kid combined). There is something insanely satisfying about playing with Play Doh. It smells amazing. Plus, I get to show the Bean how to make “hair” by squishing it through some of the molds that came in the tub. And did you know that if you mix every color of Play Doh together, you get sort of a dark bruise-like color?

The marble run was given to the Bean by the sons of one of my best friends. But when my buddy gave me a wink as his boys handed over he present, I knew that it was really a gift from him to me.

Table Scraps Volume #1: Football Season

In order to maintain the high quality level you've come to expect from this blog, I end up writing a lot, nearly every night. The majority of the stuff I compose is posted here. But there are always some stragglers--rough bits and pieces that don't quite have a home or aren't quite finished. Since it's trendy to be green these days, I figured I would recycle 'em by sharing them with you. They're somewhat raw and unrefined...but hey, aren't we all?

I wrote this back in August, but am posting it now in honor of the Super Bowl.

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It’s football season again. A time when I’m filled with good intentions, like when you make a New Year’s resolution or start a diet on a Monday after a weekend spent gorging BBQ and fried food. I go into every fall thinking that this is going to be the year that I follow the entire season. That I’ll get into football. That I’ll know enough to be able to have a conversation with an actual football fan.

But like I said, I’m filled with good intentions but very little follow through.

I really like football. But when push comes to shove, I just don’t have a lot of time to devote to it. To really follow football takes a great deal of time. A single game lasts around four hours. That’s time that I just don’t have. I’m juggling multiple children and a wife I barely see. I usually have a few hours worth of work on the weekends. There’s usually a movie that I need (okay, want) to see, TV to watch and an ever-growing list of places to surf on the intertubes.

Though none of this actually stops me from wanting to follow football. So while I promise myself that this year I’m really going to pay attention, I never do. As a result, I’m inevitably left out of a lot of conversations with other guys from September till January.