It’s been quite a while since I’ve gotten random – almost as long as it has been since I’ve actually blogged about being a dad.

Lots of interesting things have been happening around these parts. Still, I’ve been struggling managing both kids and keeping up with the blog, unless of course there happens to be a contractual obligation.

Between my column at Digital Dads and my work with Ready, Set, Eat I’m thinking I probably just should have been a food blogger instead.

So, here we go. Random bullet points, just like my life as of late:

• “I want crunchies”. This has been a familiar refrain from our nearly three year old son whenever he claims his mouth hurts him. He has been battling some molars breaking through, but we think he’s gotten a bit too attached to his chewable tablets.
• “You want to do it yourself”. Another far too familiar refrain. Toddlers by nature are pretty strong willed and seek their independence. For the most part our son is like that until it comes time to eat. He’ll feed himself just fine if he’s sitting at the table by himself. But once he has company? Forget it. He’ll gladly inform you that you would much rather feed him.
• Our holy rollers. We had our daughter baptized at the end of November and no more than two days after she rolled over for the first time. At five months old she was a month younger than her brother, but he also rolled over for the first time no more than two days after his baptism as well. Apparently the power of the Holy Spirit compelled them.
• Sorry, James P. Sullivan. Our son has mastered the skill of stop, drop and roll. Whenever it is time for a bath or anything else he isn’t interested in doing he will run like mad to his room, then stop, drop and roll – right under his bed. When we were first training him to sleep in his toddler bed we would routinely check the video monitor and he wouldn’t be in bed. So, we’d go to check on him expecting him to be dismantling something only to find him fast asleep under the bed. Monsters, Inc. won’t be getting anything from this kid.
• End of an era. Our little girl has never been very interested in hanging out in her swing, as she is quite the curious sort and didn’t have a great vantage point as to what was going on around her. And just a few weeks ago she expressed in no uncertain terms that she was finished being strapped into her baby bucket. So, with great sadness we installed her big girl car seat and began preparations to divest ourselves of the bulk of our infant gear via Craigslist. Gone are the swing, the infant carrier and the two behemoth strollers that it fit in. In its place a new double umbrella stroller and an increasingly mobile baby.
• Speaking of Craigslist, that is some prime entertainment right there. I’m thinking of listing fictional things for sale just to capture the responses I get for a future blog post series. I’m pretty sure that will get me a development deal at one of the major networks.
• On a Walkabout. Five days ago we introduced our daughter to her walker. Two days ago she managed to work her way out of the living room and into the hall by the kitchen.  It’s all of about 15 feet in length, but she did have to navigate past a cabinet and a chair. We are in such trouble with this one.
• What’s old is new again. Just like fashion trends lately, toys that have long been archived are new and interesting. Now that our little girl is more mobile and grabby we pulled out some of the more advanced infant toys we had for our son. We knew he’d be curious about the “new” things to play with, but we were gobsmacked that he’d drop Buzz Lightyear like third period French to play with an infant activity table.
• Someone is getting too smart. Little man has mastered the controls on the DVD player. If this were 1990 he’d already know how to make the clock on the VCR stop blinking.
• With the football season in the books all the attention has turned to the tenuous labor situation. And just like all of last season (including the playoffs and Super Bowl) I will not be paying much attention. I missed watching the games, but the rhetoric that is being spewed over how the league and players should carve up their billions is keeping me away. Until these idiots realize they are stewards, not owners, of the game then I have no real use for the NFL.
• BlogHer? I don’t even know her! Yesterday Bumblee Foods announced their 2011 Bee Squad and yours truly is on the team. I hear it’s a lot like the Scuba Squad, only I’ll also be representing the dads at BlogHer. If only the conference weren’t in dreary San Diego this year.
• “We’re all counting on you.” As the only dad on both the Bee Squad and the Ready, Set, Eat Shared Tastes panel I’m starting to feel a little like Ted Striker and every other dad blogger is a passenger on the doomed Trans American Airlines flight. The only question is, which one of you is Dr. Rumack?

This morning was a bit more challenging than most lately as our little girl decided she wasn’t up for going back to sleep after my wife nursed her around 5:15, which is the norm. While she got ready for work I was up attending to the baby trying in vain to get her to fall back to sleep.

Baby girl was still rooting around, so with the primary source of nummies preoccupied with the morning work ritual, I tried warming some of our supply and feeding her myself – nursing pillow and all, except right now we have a sassy green number on it.

Unresponsive to attempts to offer her the bottle, she finally crashed after about 45 minutes of full on cranky pants mode. I rested her back in her bassinet and decided to just shower and get on with my day since little man would most certainly be up soon.

As I usually do, I check my blood sugar and was floored when the reading popped up 191. 191! Inconceivable. That’s when I realized that I hadn’t washed my hands first, which I’m supposed to do, and just prior to putting the baby down I offered her the bottle one more time.

Still panicking over my blood sugar reading I realized that I had just wiped up a bit of dribble with my fingers. Quickly I washed my hands and got a second, much more realistic, reading of 109.

So, regardless of all other scientific evidence touting its benefits, I now have first hand proof that mama milk truly is pretty sweet.

A few weeks ago I was asked to join a stewardship effort at our church. Those of you that have been around here long enough know that I’m not a terribly religious person, but we have been going to services regularly for about five years now.

Considering my involvement in the church until now consisted of showing up to services, sitting, kneeling, standing and writing a check for the offering, I figured it might be time to do a little more. After all, I feel blessed to have an amazing wife and two healthy, happy children that complete my world.

At the meeting to discuss stewardship, which I admit I had no idea what it entailed when I said yes, I realized I might have gotten myself in over my head. The pastor wanted each of us to take a week to speak on a particular topic, which were getting snatched up at lightning speed. People and topics were getting matched up faster than pre-teens at a CYO dance and I started having horrible flashbacks.

By the time it got around to me all that was left was “worship” and “giving”. Even though giving was scheduled for a weekend that we will be away for a family wedding, I offered to take it and write something up that would be printed in the weekly bulletin. Thankfully, they accepted.

Giving is an interesting topic, and since cash is tight right now due to our excess real estate situation, I decided to put my time and talents to use instead. I offered up the idea of reworking the churches website, which was sorely needed, and helping them with some social networking stuff.

I was pleased (and relieved) when they were eager to take me up on my offer. As a result, I’ve been off the grid for the past few days trying to pound through the site so that it will be ready in advance of the launch of the stewardship campaign next Sunday. If you’re so inclined, I’d love for you to check it out, it’s about 85% done as of this morning.

Essentially, I’ve been busy building God a blog, so I got that going for me, which is nice.

And, finally, yesterday marked the third week of my Paleo power experience and I am pleased to report that since changing my diet I am down 11 pounds. Combined with the eight pounds I lost since changing my meds at the end of April, I am down 19 pounds in five months.

The adjustment has been surprisingly smooth and I don’t miss a lot of what I’m not supposed to be eating. Probably because what I’m not supposed to be eating is the reason I’m in the situation I’m in to begin with.

There is still considerable work left to be done with several hundred pounds left to go. I have decided that I want to be anti-matter, which will surely end my dependence on all forms of prescribed pharmaceuticals.

Photo credit: bredgur on Flickr

Saturday morning the family and I were headed out on shopping expedition to help my wife find an outfit for a wedding we will be attending next month.

After packing up the kids and heading out of the house I opened up the sliding doors to the minivan. While I strapped our son into his car seat, my wife put our daughter’s baby bucket into its base.

Wanting to get the show on the road I quickly jumped into the driver’s seat and was taken back by what I saw.

Stuff was everywhere. Every compartment of my minivan had been opened and the contents had been strewn about recklessly. I got out of the seat, looked around the ground, then back into the van in an effort to determine what on earth had happened.

There was no broken glass and no marks on any of the doors indicating that someone or something jimmied them open. Still, it was overwhelmingly obvious that the suburban assault vehicle had been defiled.

Absent any evidence of any vandalism, I can only surmise that I didn’t lock the minivan after the last time I drove it and someone who was trolling my neighborhood took a chance on finding something of value. They may have lucked out that the doors were opened, but even stranger than my failure to lock up my vehicle was the fact that nothing appeared to be missing.

Despite the van being in our driveway on our property we don’t keep anything of value in it. There were piles of wet wipes, sanitizer bottles, my ipod cord and coupon books tossed all around the floor.

Then it dawned on us that both our single and double strollers that work with our infant carrier system were in there. Needless to say we were relieved to find them safe and sound in the back.

Apparently whoever ransacked determined that there wasn’t a black market for strollers. If they only knew the street value of those things to parents.

After determining that nothing was missing and cleaning up the mess, we realized that since I hadn’t been out with the kids since we got back from our son’s class on Wednesday afternoon that the vandalism could have occurred at any time over the previous three nights.

I’m not sure which is worse, that I didn’t have anything worth stealing or that I hadn’t driven anywhere in nearly three days.

Regardless, this is the second time in three years living in this house that our space has been violated. Our home was burglarized in July 2008 and many things were stolen, but they were all just things and they were easily replaced.

This time around nothing was stolen and no physical damage caused, but I’m getting very tired of the lack of respect for other peoples property.

Photo credit: moohaha on Flickr

Before our son was ever born my wife and I were getting ready for church and in a rush to get ready was confusing her left from right. When she realized what she was doing she told me that it would be my responsibility to teach our child left from right.

In response I told her that that was fine, I would handle “right from left”, but that she would have to handle “right from wrong”.

Well, it appears that my work here is now done. Our son is consistently distinguishing his left hands and feet from his right hands and feet. So, I guess I only have to wait a year or so to teach that to my daughter and I’ll really be done. Who says this parenting stuff is hard?

You’re probably wondering what the heck is on the toast that is pictured above this post. Well, those are candy coated anise seeds and they are ridiculously good, even on toast with a little butter.

My sister-in-law gave us some of these in blue and white for our son, as it is a traditional thing to do to celebrate the birth of a child in Holland. At first we were skeptical of the combination of toast, butter and these candy coated anise seeds. Once we tried them, however, we were hooked and that box didn’t last very long.

As we welcomed our daughter into the world we eagerly awaited a box of these little delights, this time in pink and white. When the package got here we barely got them out of the box before we popped some bread in the toaster.

It is fun learning about traditions from other countries and cultures, especially when they are this tasty.

OK, so maybe I have a little work left to do.

The other day while my wife and daughter were off at an infant massage class, my son and I decided to run some errands. While we were in the grocery store he was pounding his fist on the steering wheel of the carts they have that are shaped like race cars yelling “come on! come on!” as we drove through the busy aisles.

Clearly I am rubbing off on him in the wrong ways.

According to Marie Claire us SAHD’s are the new status symbol accessory for the alpha woman. I guess if I have to be an accessory I want to be like a BMW because I have a strong suspension and a smooth ride. My wife, however, is relishing her newfound status as an alpha woman a little too much.

One of the reasons I haven’t been blogging too much around these parts lately, aside from the sleep deprivation and some personal stuff, I’ve been hard at work with a new project that is coming online soon.

For the past four months I have been managing the Spread Your Warmth campaign for Sweatshirt Blanket, which is a product line of my client Centerfield Sports. Things have gone so well that they have asked me to come up with a new campaign for another product line.

In about a week we will be unveiling the Get in the Game campaign. The focus will be to raise awareness for youth sports and the funding crisis in which they currently find themselves. As I was noodling on ideas for this campaign I read an article that quoted former NFL commissioner Paul Tagliabue who stated that youth athletics have lost nearly $2 billion in funding since the financial crisis began.

While we obviously can’t fix the problem completely, we wanted to do something. Therefore, we will be profiling youth sports teams and athletic associations who will compete to win a package of customized merchandise that they can use for fundraising purposes. Additionally, we will be profiling Dads and Moms who are active with their children’s sports teams.

If you fit this description, drop me a comment and I’ll be in touch soon.

Finally, over the past few weeks we’ve been slathering olive oil on our daughter throughout the day because she has a much stronger case of seborrhea than our son ever did. I know I could just say “cradle cap”, but I just like saying seborrhea.

If I ever get around to starting that speed metal band I’ve always dreamed about I’m so going to name it Seborrhea. I can hear it now:

“We are Seborrhea. Thank you, Charlotte, good night!”

I haven’t gotten random in a while and since sleep depravation doesn’t lend itself to writing coherently, here we go. I’m even using bullet points to make formatting this post easier on myself.

• It is amazing at how much you can forget in two short years. Now that we are dealing with an infant again we have had to really rack our brains to remember what we did when our son was first born. My sister-in-law had to remind my wife what we did with our son to help him work on understanding the difference between day and night.
• Despite all of that, things are going very well, which, of course, will now come back to haunt me. Our little girl is eating well and, for the most part, sleeping well. We’ve only had a handful of nights that turned to early morning where one of us got next to no sleep.
• The Miracle Blanket is our friend. We didn’t know about these until our son was about three and a half weeks old and it was a godsend then. Sure, they look a little like a straight jacket for an infant, but they work and we will do anything to preserve our sanity.
• Milk protein allergy redux? At four months old our son was diagnosed with a milk protein allergy and my wife turned her diet upside down to enable her to keep nursing. She made it about 11 months stripping down her intake to nothing but meat and vegetables and forgoing dairy, eggs, peanuts, tree nuts and soy (which is ridiculously difficult to avoid, FYI). With our daughter my wife initially took a cautious approach with her intake, but it didn’t take long for us to realize that whenever she had dairy of any kind – even the tiniest bit of cheese – our daughter would spit up after feedings. No dairy, no spit up. As a result, adios dairy once again.
• The fact that our daughter has much less spit up than our son and has only vomited once during her short two weeks in the world leads us to believe we completely blew it with our son. We feel like we missed obvious warning signs that made him unnecessarily uncomfortable until our famous emergency room visit cleared things up.
• I’m not sure if parenting is like riding a bike, but we feel much more comfortable the second time around. We aren’t as stressed about every little noise baby girl makes, and that may be contributing to her sleeping better as well. Also, with our son we were so focused on the pregnancy and labor and delivery that we didn’t do as much due diligence on what do once the baby was here. Sure, we went to the classes and knew that if he cried he was either hungry, needed to be changed, tired or just being a cranky pants, but there were a few times that we kind of felt like “ok, now what?”. Our daughter is definitely benefitting from us being more battle tested.
• Even things like knowing the difference between a baby’s cry has become more apparent to us. With our son we couldn’t always discern the difference between an “I’m wet” cry and an “I’m hungry” cry. However, with our daughter we know exactly when she is hungry, as she quite loudly (and repeatedly) proclaims “La!”.
• Feeding times have definitely been a time of great interest for our son. He is absolutely fascinated by the fact that baby sister gets “Mama milk” and he is very eager to help Mama when she is trying to feed our daughter. Usually this involves him picking up her nursing stool and walking around the room with it, which, contrary to his stated intentions, isn’t very helpful at all.
• One of the funniest things was when he asked for Mama milk as our daughter was finished nursing early on. My wife looked at him and in no uncertain terms explained to him that Mama milk was only for babies without teeth.
• As for me, during nursing time I am provided with an excellent opportunity to train for a position in a NASCAR pit crew. It didn’t take me long to return to Pro Bowl form with the mid feeding diaper change and burping. Unfortunately, my wife has declined to time me so that I can post my impressive stats.

That’s all I got. Now it’s time for my mid day nap

At the tender age of two my son is already firmly in the clutches of corporate America. I’m not talking about the plethora of shows and characters designed to captivate children and annoy the living hell out of parents.

No, I’m talking about brand recognition in it’s scariest form. Sure, my son knows Elmo and Mickey and Caillou, but we haven’t had satellite television for about three months now, so his exposure is limited to those types of things. That’s right, my son goes bonkers whenever he sees a Target sign, or anything that resembles one.

When I ask him to get his shoes as we are getting ready to leave the house his reply to me is always “Papa, Target sandals?”. During our latest adventures in trying to get him to take his medicine for an ear infection, once he saw the Target logo on the syringe he readily opened his mouth and proclaimed “Target medicine?”.

Just yesterday while my wife was reading a story on the Internet about how Starbucks is going to be offering wi-fi nationwide, little man pointed to Starbucks logo in the story and said “Target!”. The first instinct she had was to tell him “no, that’s Starbucks”, but then she thought about it for a second when she realized that there is a Starbucks in the Target we go to regularly.

Clearly, I need to start shopping somewhere else, or I should target dressing him exclusively in khakis and red polos and make some money off of this.

Yesterday my wife hit the 38 week mark and at her latest check-up she was about 1 cm dilated. Obviously, this did instill a slight sense of urgency in us, but weren’t sweating it because we’ve known people who were 1 cm dilated weeks before they ever delivered.

That all changed when a good friend of ours who was due six days before my wife had her baby this past Friday. Needless to say we have contact mission control and have initiated the starting launch sequence.

In reality we really don’t have a lot left to do, as we’ve been pretty diligent in taking care of the big things. I’m pretty sure that it is an innate trait for dads to love to assemble things, so the crib and other assorted baby gear were put together as soon as the boxes arrived in our home.

Still, there was the matter of getting a bag packed for the hospital, cleaning up the baby bucket and doing the whole car seat shuffle in the swagger wagon. As we headed off to bed last night the last item on our to do list was to reassemble the infant carrier whose padding was air drying after having washed it.

We both rested comfortably knowing that at this point we are as ready as we can possibly be.

You know what really grinds my gears, when people use the term “free of charge”.

The other day our local gas company informed us that there was a gas leak in the line going to our house. The leak was coming up from a connection that was under the sidewalk next to our house. They told me they were going to have to fix it by tearing up the section of sidewalk, but that it would all be good by the end of the day.

As little man and I headed out run some errands (at Target, ironically enough), I checked in with them as I was leaving because they also had to do something to the meter attached to the house which resulted in them digging up some of the landscaping I had only recently planted.

Just as I was finishing up my conversation with the guys doing the work, a supervisor appeared and cheerfully proclaimed to me: “Don’t worry, this will all be fixed up in a few, free of charge to you.”

Really? Free of charge, you say? I immediately looked at him and had the following conversation:

Me: “The leak was under the sidewalk?”

Supervisor: “Yes, sir”

M: “And the sidewalk and the land underneath it is city property, right.”

S: “Uh, yes”

M: “And the pipes delivering gas to my home are the property of the gas company, right?”

S: “Yes, sir”

M: “So, how exactly would this ever have been something I would have been charged for directly?”

S: (says nothing)

M: “Nothing is free of charge. The expense of you and your crew being out here is paid my gas bill and any cost the city might incur for this work is paid by my taxes. So, how again is this free of charge?”

I didn’t even bother to wait for a response as I headed towards my van to get the day’s errands out of the way. Stupid thinking like this gets me so riled up that I start seeing red.

The reality is that nothing is free. A free lunch isn’t free. Someone is paying for it in hopes that their message is heard.

A leaking gas line most certainly isn’t free. Someone has to pay for the materials and the man hours required to fix it whether they pay the direct costs because of personal liability for the situation or if the costs are built into the monthly gas rate that consumers pay.

No matter what it is in life we all end paying whether it is directly or indirectly. So, please, for the love of all that is holy, don’t ever say something is “free of charge”.

Photo credit: j.reed

I am officially dubbing my son’s generation the “Touchscreen” generation. It all began innocently enough as I would download kid friendly apps to my iPhone in order to keep him entertained while stuck waiting in places likes doctors offices.

Sometimes he doesn’t even need an app to entertain him, as he happily swipes his finger across the screen of the phone to switch pages or scan through the multitude of photos I have of him on the phone. Now he has taken to swiping his finger across any screen he comes into contact, especially my MacBook.

He also gets quite annoyed when the screen does not obey his command, so he swipes even harder. This is almost as funny as him responding to my every question with “Otay!”

So, I got some spam the other day at my real men drive minivans gmail account from realmenlovejesus2. According to their email real men apparently also love vicodin.

Little man has this new habit of scooping up some of his bath water with one his bath toys and swallowing it. He then proceeds to proclaim it to be “Yummy! Yummy!” Interestingly enough he is refusing to eat the things I cook. I’m sure I should be greatly offended by this.

Yesterday I was named one of three finalists in the Purdue Verifiably Good Video contest. Needless to say I’m pretty excited to have made it this far given that this is first cooking competition I’ve ever entered. I’ll also admit that if I don’t win at this point it will be as disappointing as the Sopranos series finale.

The other night my son was following the cat around calling him “Yogurt” much to our bewilderment. Now he likes to offer the cat his yogurt cup when he is finished with it, but then it dawned on us that he got to watch some television that day and was probably trying to say “Gilbert”, which is Caillou‘s cat. Yet another for me to continue hating Caillou.

Finally, if you didn’t see my post about it on Friday, my client, Sweatshirt Blanket, is running a campaign called Spread Your Warmth. Through this campaign they are profiling charitable causes on their blog and each month one will be voted the winner of some customized sweatshirt blankets that they can use in their fundraising efforts.

If you are passionate about a certain cause, I invite you to check it out and fill out a nomination form. Just as a disclosure I am being compensated by Sweatshirt Blanket to promote and manage this campaign.

What did that say? In the title, what did that say? Did it say that there was a monster at the end of this post??? It did? Oh, I am so scared of monsters!!!

On several occasions I’ve noted how my son is a fussy eater. We have our good days and our bad ones. Yesterday was firmly in the bad category.

No matter what I offered to him, even if he specifically requested it, it went uneaten. This went on from breakfast, which until recently had been his best meal, through to his mid day snack.

So, when he started running around the house asking for a burger and fries around dinner time we ran with it. We headed out for our favorite little burger place where little man can ordinarily eat his body weight in fries.

Even as we were opening the door to walk in he was practically chanting ‘meat!’, ‘fries!’. And just as quickly as we ordered him a little burger and some fries he promptly went on to eat absolutely nothing.

In a desperate attempt to salvage this meal we began offering him just the cheese from the burger that, thankfully, he readily consumed. Taking advantage of the situation I approach the guy at the counter and asked him if I could buy a few slices of cheese off of him because that is all my kid was eating.

Generously, he tossed me a few slices free of charge and I returned to the table in hopes that the moment hadn’t passed. At first little man was resistant to the cheese slices until he started sticking his straw in them and making tiny little circles of cheese.

Since it is overwhelmingly obvious that stacks of cheese circles are much more fun to eat than boring old slices, I did what any dad in my situation would do. Forty five minutes and two straws later little man ate a whopping slice and a half of cheese that I cut into tiny circles.

Why are you still reading? You see if you keep reading it will bring you to the end of this post, and there is a monster at the end of this post

A few days ago I got the cover of a cooking magazine emailed to me by a good friend of mine. Now, magazines in general are excellent at stating the obvious, however, he was a touch incredulous by one of the revelations it boldly proclaimed. I’ve taken the liberty of blowing it up for you for your amazement:

Seriously? Bacon isn’t just for breakfast anymore? Well that is surely a relief! In my house household bacon is a vegetable and, sometimes, it is even dessert. Even my picky son will eat it whenever it is offered to him.

You kept reading! Seriously, I don’t think you understood me, there is a monster at the end of this post.

Have you seen this? Allegedly some school allowed a re-enactment of Scarface for the school play. I’m the furthest from being a moral compass, but this seems a bit wrong. All I can say is “What the fudge?”

The next part is the end of this post, and there is a monster at the end of this post. Oh, I am so scared!

And you were so scared! See, I told you there was nothing to be afraid of.

If you read my guest post over at Clark Kent’s Lunchbox yesterday, then you know that Dr. Seuss stories are a fixture in my household. So much so that now I catch myself lost in thoughts that are Seussian in nature. The other day I was having an issue with one of my blogs and it got me wondering…

Do you ever have the feeling there’s a bugin your plugin?

Perhaps there’s a jinks in the links?

I’m pretty sure there is a gettings that has messed up my settings.

Every once in a while there is a lomments that screws up my comments.

I’ve checked out that zashboard in my dashboard.

And I’ve fixed the blidget in that widget.

Still, I get the feeling that there is a vaptop on my laptop.

Just when I think it’s the yost in my host.

It turns out it was just the slouch on the couch.

Move over CN Tower and behold the CJ Tower. It is quite majestic, or should I say at least it was. In an unfortunate turn of events a Godzilla like toddler creature leveled it shortly after it’s grand opening ceremony.

I’m not the most religious person, but it drives me absolutely nuts to see kids wearing flip flops in church. That never would have be allowed when I was an altar boy.

One of our son’s favorite things to eat are pancakes, but the other day he wasn’t so interested in them so we tried something new. Unbeknownst to us they are more fun when you dip them into syrup, rather than have the syrup poured on top of them.

Do we really need the government to waste the money on mailing us a notice that we will be getting the census form in about a week? When I got mine in the mail yesterday it was all pretty clear what I needed to do, especially with the giant “Your response is required by law” stamp right on the front of it.

We’ve had our son’s toddler bed in place for a few weeks now and we’ve tried to get him acclimated to it so we can complete the transition. This past Friday he would go from playing with his blocks in the living room to laying down on his bed and informing me that he was “seeping”. Apparently, he does not realize that there is no talking during sleepy time.

Have you ever thought about your blog’s carbon footprint? Neither had I. Yesterday I put together a piece for a client that runs a green and sustainable living blog that details the “My blog is carbon neutral campaign”.

If you have an interest in participating, check out her post on carbon neutral blogging and write a post of your own about the program. For every blog that participates a tree will be planted in Plumas National Forest in Northern California.

And this week, I’ll leave you with a fond farewell to the late Peter Graves with this cinematic classic.