Day Two

12:00-much later-By the time S and s nod off the movie on the plane has started. I miss the first thirty minutes of Thor, but it got like in the seventies on rotten tomatoes, so I decided to put the headphones in and enjoy the ride. S asked me how I remember all the rotten tomatoes scores, and I think it's because I no longer watch baseball. I've freed up a lot of room in my head that used to be filled with baseball statistics. For the next hour and a half or so I get to enjoy S and s having a nice sleep while some very buff man with long hair fires hammers into ice beings. I mean, it was a fantastic respite from what was to come. I was really only troubled by Thor's place in the human realm since it seemed that being the God of Thunder would make him damn near invincible in any upcoming Avengers movie and way more dangerous than Captain America and his crummy shield, but I suppose those meandering are for another day. It was a satisfying and sort of weird action movie.



The woman sitting in the aisle was somewhere in the 25-35 range. I didn't really get a good look at her but s sure did. When she wasn't crying, she would crawl across my lap and just stare at the woman, who was either a) sleeping b) and probably more likely putting on a fantastic display of fake sleeping to make us not feel so bad about our crazy crying baby.

Which is to say, s wound up crying for about 2 of the six hours we were en route. And not whimpering mind you, full on screaming. I'm just glad everyone gets headphones on an airplane. No one has the right to complain now. Just put in your damn head phones and jack up the music. The baby will go away. I spent the time awkwardly being passed s periodically while my wife attempted Ric Flair wrestling moves to try and get s attached to her chest. It was a rousing success. At one point we decided to get drinks and s promptly knocked them both on the ground and doused us both in Sprite. I'm not saying don't take your baby on a flight. I'm just saying don't take my baby on a flight.

The next few hours were random fits of sleep for me as s cried, and I felt guilty enough to not actually watch any more of the shows being aired, that and the shows being aired were terrible things like How I Met Your Mother. I don't give a shi- who says that show is good. It is only good because your standards for humor have been driven so low by the drivel that passes for comedy. I'd watch Doogie Hauser MD ten times a day before I'd watch that trite bs once. Rant complete. I've got to get back to watching the Big Bang Theory. You see....

It was kind of like a horror movie except the killer is roughly 29 inches tall and weights like 19 pounds and also doesn't kill people but just cries. I think we can get at least twenty million for this idea. We disembarked last. S claimed it was because it would take us time to get ready, but I think it was just to try and hide from our fellow passengers.

When we arrived at baggage my dad had our bag and said he'd asked several other passengers if they'd seen us in flight.

Person: Oh, that couple. With the baby?

Dad: Yeah.

Person: Oh yea. We saw them. We certainly all heard them.

He spared us the details but that's a pretty good guess. We then proceeded into the CA night, which was, well, CA, so awesome. Goodbye humidity. Hello random job hunting for the first two weeks back until I get sucked back in.

M: Look at the stars. (Remember it's roughly four A.M. or so now for the family)

M: (Waits) S are you looking at the stars? Look at how many of them there are?

M: S?

S: I see the stars. (sleepily).

M: Sighs romantically trying to evoke a little bit of John Keats.

We rolled in to my dad's house and hit the hay about 4 A.M. or roughly 7 A.M. our time. I can't remember the last time I had less fun staying up until 7 A.M. I mean, I guess we closed down the airport, which is kind of like closing down the bar for parents of small children.

We rousted ourselves out of bed at around 2 P.M. the next day because we're the type of folks who like to get an early start. The early bird gets the worm but the early bird only gets and effing worm, and I'll just keep sleeping thank you very much if that's my only reward. We had big plans to go the SF zoo, but my dad informed us that it closed in half an hour or something and that s would just have to go home without being eaten by a tiger. We broke the news to her carefully. She cried a bit, but I think it might have just been because she's a baby, and babies cry a lot. It's unclear.

The truth of the matter is that I'm a better person than S, note here, that a better person is someone who wakes up earlier. That means people in New Zealand are constantly kicking our ass and getting shi- done way ahead of schedule. Anyhow, I stumbled out of bed around noon and saw a wonderful hat on my dad's dresser that said Lake Tahoe on it. Naturally as that was the express location that our vacation was taking us I asked to borrow it. This thing was a dad hat to the core. Curdoroy or some shi- like that except easier to spell. His head is roughly nine times the size of mine, but I didn't bother resizing the damn thing because it was my vacation hat. I then stumbled outside in my Jesus is my Homeboy shirt with the red hat and some ripped jeans that I'd decided were my vacation pants to grab us some coffee because I'm a good person. Anyhow on the way over to the coffee shop some older gentleman rolled up on me in his car and asked me if I would like to join him on a trip to Saratoga after he finished filling up with gas.

Which means, he was either a) concerned that I was homeless. The hat and the jeans probably werent' helping. b) thinking that I was probably a really great conversationalist. c) A worker in the sex trade.

M: I think I'm just going to stick around here.

Guy: Okay.

Later:

M: I wonder how much I could have made.

S: With that hat? Not much.

The whole thing was really strange or a giant compliment. I mean, it's nice to know that I can just put on some new clothes and people assume that I'm homeless/great car company. Plus the real find was having this awesome vacation hat to wear for the rest of the weekend and doing things like getting annoyed at my mom and S and saying, "This is my vacation" and putting on my vacation hat and just sitting in the yard looking awesome or homeless or whatever.

We went out to Henry Cowell State Park and ambled around the redwoods instead. The redwoods were created by God and placed in CA to remind people that the east coast sucks. At least that's what my guidebook said. Anyhow, I basically just stared up at light filtering through trees and tried to gather everyone around for family pictures while my dad grifted guidebooks from unsuspecting grandparents who then had to listen in with their grandkids while I pedantically read descriptions of various trees. If you ever visit CA I'd suggest going to see them because they are truly awe inspiring. Also you should take me. I am considerably less awe inspiring but I can keep reminding you of how beautiful everything is until I drive you so far up the gd wall that you can climb up into the canopy of one of those beautiful redwoods I keep telling you about. Lil s loved the walk and basically just did this kind of odd screaming thing that she does and everyone thought was cute because she's a baby and babies get away with all sorts of crazy stuff like pooping themselves and singing when everyone is just trying to enjoy the majesty of the redwoods.

M: s. Do you notice that you are the only one making noise?

s: (silence)

M: I think this counts as defiance. Can I spank her?

s: Sings

S: No.

After hotfooting around the 1/2 mile track in roughly three and a half hours we grabbed some ice cream because we were so effing worn out from all the beauty. Except the albino tree and the particular type of redwood that they thought were extinct both of which turned out to be small and ridiculous looking in comparison to the real stuff, and if I wrote the guide I've have takne both of those stops out and just had something reminding people to look up and enjoy the majesty before I punched them in the face. I guess I've never really written a guide book before. Did I tell you about the weather?

We got home and had a nice home dinner prepared by my father. I think we tapped out at like nine or something. In the meantime I read a few stories from The Barnum Museum, which is yet another collection of stories by my main man Steven Millhauser who pretty much kicks ass. Anyhow, the real point of this day is how amazingly dry the weather is in CA and how they've got stars and redwoods we should all move there together and live in a commune until someone ruins it by falling in love.


Picture Time

Father and son looking good on the trail

I know what you're thinking and yes that is just one tree. One big gd amazing tree. Look on my works yet mighty and despair or whatever. Or you're thinking what an amazing looking family you're seeing. It's okay. That tree pales in comparison and that's why it got cut down.

Oh look, some light is coming through trees. Remember how Saint Patrick converted the Irish? Light through the trees. Read your how the Irish saved civilization.

Does this guy look like some easy cheap sex worker to you? Okay, but only a little bit.

Why yes, that is just one tree. One giant effing tree. Am I scared of that tree? No that's why I stood inside of it's heart with my family. Do trees have hearts?

I know what you're thinking now. You're thinking, I bet light is coming through those trees really nicely, and I'd like to see ten photos of it. Too bad. You only get one or two more. Buy your own camera

Some dude from oldin times actually lived in this tree. You can stand up inside the thing completely and stretch your arms out. It's kind of scary. I bet that guy didn't have this awesome hat though.

This is how I feel about trees. Go buy a gd hybrid and stop whining about your iphones and inability to have a tv in every room in your house. Hug a tree you pansy.

We asked my dad to watch s for a minute. They both looked kind of scared.

We saw this really pretty glen or dale or hollow or whatever and took like nine thousand pictures of it. None of which did it any justice, which is why photography is middle brow art. Just put the camera down and enjoy it. Or go take a picture of light coming through trees.

When I'm wearing my vacation hat I don't abide by rules in state parks. I climb up fifteen feet into trees to take pictures of other trees with light coming through them. I paid ten bucks and this hat don't take no prisoners.

Look at this tree and despair you lazy hipster. This tree got to twenty two and it didn't grow a mustache and start whining about some garage band it just saw last night.No. This tree grew two other effing trees out of it like a man. So put down your pabst and that other shit-- drink that is even more popular now that I don't even know because I'm out admiring trees and admire some trees.

This baby could give a crap about trees. She was more excited to chew on the straps of her stroller. She's a bad ass.