Fritzi Tree

This post is a poll of sorts.

When is it time to take down your Christmas tree or shrub, whatever the case may be?

We put up our tree/shrub/potted plant in mid-December and named him Fritzi. All through Christmas we'd sing to him "O Fritzi Tree." We decorated him with lights and mini candy canes.

After Christmas we began eating the candy canes.

Now it's February and our little Fritzi Tree is naked save for the lights. He is also growing. He sits in our window, gets light all day and loads of water and is sprouting new growth. Seems a shame to put him out in the trash. He's still alive. He still smells like pine. And I love him.

But, really. February. It's getting ridiculous. Not to mention tacky.

Perhaps I can tell people he's a ficus plant?

It's All Fun and Games

...until Ryan loses an eye (or a head or a nose).

This was a grand Christmas. One filled with love and laughter and friends and family.

Sadly, it was also filled with grave injury. First, I was nearly decapitated by a Path train. It was as unpleasant as it sounds. I'm sure one day I'll find it funny, not as funny as a certain someone who shall remain nameless but who was supposed to hold the door and keep it from shutting on my head, but still.

Fortunately I was able to make a swift recovery from nearly losing my head. As you can see from the photo below I regained my usual high spirits and was in fine shape for round 2 of Carlton Christmas Piggy Back Ride Races:


We even got a little creative and added a 3rd party to our race:

All fun and games until the post-race victory celebration got a bit out of hand. I turned cartwheels cross the floor and, feeling rather seasick, decided to take a break and engage the nearest 5 year old in a tickle fight. Said 5 year old retaliated by smashing his noggin into my nose.

I suppose it's just not a family holiday until someone has to go to the ER.

In Hoc Signo Vinces

Turns out, writing papers about French anti-Semetics and "sh*t" is a pretty good way to go.

Our Funny Valentine made dean's list this semester.

Her figure may be less than greek and her mouth a little weak but when she opens it speak, she's certainly smart.

Way to go, Smarty Pants!

Pomp and Circumstance

A big and hearty congratulations to my favorite professional student, the Cantabrigian.

Way to go on this your 3rd (? I kinda lost track around the end of your first year of law school) post-graduate degree.

Always a gentleman, perhaps no longer a scholar.

Now maybe you'll get a job like the rest of us.

Way to go, Smarty Pants.

Family Tradition

In the fall of 1970 my grandfather called my father, a senior in college, demanding to know just what he was doing up there and why he was, as Poppy put it, " pissing my money away."

I received a similar phone call from my father in the spring of 2001.

Yesterday, when asked how her term paper is going, my sister, a sophomore in college, responded thusly:

"Uh, I don't know. I am just comparing the two Jean-Claude Grumberg plays we read and then I was going to talk about how the French were actually pretty anti-Semitic and other sh*t"

I believe I can say without fear of successful contradiction that my sister will be on the receiving end of a similar phone call in the not too distant future.

Good to know she's keep the family tradition alive.

Now We Are 60

Today is my dad's 60th birthday.
If I were more with it and on the ball, I would have set this to post at 3:13 AM, the minute he was born. Frankly, if I were with it and on the I'd have his actual present finished and ready to go. Oh well, it's the thought that counts.

So now, without further ado, 6 things I love about my dad, 1 for each decade of awesomeness.

6) He calls me every year at the exact minute I was born and says the following:

"'Betty Bear was so excited she could hardly sleep. It was her birthday.' Happy Birthday Betty Bear!"

(Betty Bear's Birthday was my favorite book when I was very small. I don't even remember reading it but he still knows the whole thing by heart. )


5) He is at once ridiculously proper and totally irreverent.
He uses phrases like "daily ablutions" and "ladies foundation under garments," he stands when a lady enters a room or leaves the table and always carries an extra hankie.
Then there's the side of him that does things like turn to you in the middle of a family wedding and whisper:

"Your mother and I didn't light a unity candle. We used a Bowie knife and had a ritual blood letting on the altar."

And then, because he's so well mannered, he's able to turn away and watch the rest of the ceremony while you're sitting there biting your tongue, holding your breath and digging your nails into your thighs in a desperate attempt to keep from laughing.


4) He's a triple threat. He can sing, he can dance and he can act. He's amazing. And intimidating. He also knows more about music, dance, theater and film then you do. No. Really. He does.


3) He's got style. Serious style. People stop him on the street. Style, panache and charm. It takes a special kind of guy who can pull off shocking pink trousers with green elephants. My Philadelphia lawyer father is perhaps the only man who can them look dignified and understated.


2) He is the reason we got the Disney Channel as kids. It wasn't so we could watch it, it was because they played the old Zorro and Davy Crockett TV shows at night. He loves Zorro and Davy Crockett.


1) Five years ago, in a conversation that lasted one minute and 37 seconds that he probably doesn't remember and I'll never forget, he gave me the biggest vote of confidence I've ever received. It's his voice I hear now when I have to drown out the voices that say, "you're no good," "you can't do this," "who do you think you're fooling?"

Happy Birthday! I love you!

Snow!

Okay, I suppose it's technically a "wintery mix," but there are actual flakes in there with the rain.

But still! Snow!

Love it!