Christmas 2008

Amongst our own household there is serious misunderstanding about the Advent.  The problem surfaced the other day when Jeremy stated that Santa Clause would be holding baby Jesus in the Christmas parade, and continued when we learned that baby Jesus’ parents were Merry and Pippin, and he came so that he could turn into bread.  Also the real Santa Clause lives in Ventura.  Parenting is hard.

 Here are some stories that don’t make us look as bad:

 Molly, in her pursuit to begin every word with the letter H, can say Hmismas.  Others include:  Hammy (friend Tammy), Hama (Grandma), Heemup Heemup (Clean up) and HimHuit (Swimsuit.)  Molly accomplishes what she sees fit with nonchalant determination.  She assumes that she also is 4 and will enjoy the benefits whether we provide them or not. Yet she waddles over with her torso twisting, arm- waving walk to snuggle the way only a squishy 1 and a half-year-old can.  I was warned I would be wrapped around her finger.  While I am not trying very hard to avoid that, she does make it easy.

 Ian looked forward all year to being four, because we flippantly told him he could have gum when he was four.  The first words out of his mouth on his birthday after we said Happy Birthday to him in bed were “Can I have gum?”  We are never sure which of our comments will make an impact.  Our requests to get in the car, for instance, do not.  At all.  On the other hand when Megan off -handedly said that most 4 year olds don’t suck their thumbs because it can make their teeth crooked, he quit cold turkey.  Only once, crying at his inability to self-soothe, did he mention that he didn’t want to have crazy teeth.  Poor boy.

 Jeremy in his passion for art and music drew an anatomically correct picture of daddy to share with his preschool teachers.  I expected an intervention from CPS, so being a man of honor I planned to discreetly recycle it immediately. Instead it has garnered much praise from the critics so it is hung with great pride on the refrigerator with all of your Christmas cards.  Jeremy also let us know that dragon’s don’t celebrate Christmas because they would scare Baby Jesus.

 Megan says funny stuff too but not in the same way.  It turns out we are having our 4^th child in May.  Turns out is what you say when you want to imply that you were not fully responsible or aware of something. But it turns out that we are both. Being pregnant is cute the first time, annoying the second, and funny the 3^rd The things that come out of tired, pregnant women’s mouths can be quite funny; Unfortunately unrepeatable.   This all amounts to us having 4 kids 4 and under, which seems stupid; But in a joyful kind of way. While we always wanted 4, we were never quite ready to live up to the reality of a new infant.  Family planning is funny.  We are still working on the planning part.

 The ways that I am  growing and changing are neither funny nor interesting.   But I will say this. This year more than before, we love Christmas.  I am sad for it’s ending before it even begins.  I love pine trees in my living room, bare trees in our back yard, excuses to eat Christmas treats.  I love putting together toys in pajamas, reading user’s manuals and explaining them to family members who don’t.  I like the idea of things that I don’t even really like, like eggnog and rum-balls.  I love kids books designed to make me cry, that actually do.  Even my distrust of colorful sweaters can be suspended.  And if I am a bit confused about Christmas, I am so happily.  It is not the ‘true meaning’ of Christmas that confuses us.  We just feel guilty that we forget what the party was for. Sometimes that happens at a good party. Just the same I am more grateful for the gift than the party.  Whether he comes in a manger or in Santa’s lap, drink up and thank God for the best gift. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Family Photos

It never hurts to have a Brooks Photography student living in your home.  Here are the latest from our good friend and garage-dweller, Jen Turner.

Megan and Molly (1 1/2 years)
Ian, Brad and Jeremy playing airplane (boys 3 1/2 years)

Entries from the "Memorable Parenting Moments" Log

Ian 3yrs. 2mos.
Brad putting Ian to bed at night, talking about all the people who love him and all the things they are happy about. Ian says, “I’m so happy to have an Ian named Jeremy.”

Ian 3yrs 2mos
Ian singing to Molly, who is sitting on the patio, “If you’re happy and you know it sit on your bottom.” Followed by, “Good job, Molly you’re sitting on your bottom.”

Jeremy 3yrs. 2mos.
Following a surprising report at preschool, I asked Jeremy about sitting down during group time, and not jumping up. When asked how the teacher felt when he jumped around, he said, “It made her kind of bumpy. No, not bumpy. It made her kind of grumpy.”

Ian 3 yrs. 2mos
Brad tapping his foot to music. Ian says, “Hey what’s your foot doin’ down there at the end of your leg, Daddy?”

I&J 3yrs 2mos.
Ian and Jeremy both love doing crafts. Often we’ll pull out craft supplies at 9AM when Molly goes down for a nap. Ian loves naming the colors he’s using, and coloring as much surface area as he possibly can. Jeremy loves to quietly use an entire roll of tape to tape the crayons to the Crayola box; an unconventionally creative guy.

Jeremy
Often Brad or I will call our boys by the wrong name, “Jeremy, I mean, Ian.” Sometimes if we catch the mistake quickly we’ll say, “J…Ian” to which Jeremy corrects, “His name is NOT J-Ian.”

Ian – age 3yrs. – Complimenting Grandma Alice
“I like you Grandma Alice… you have cute socks.”

Jeremy Potty Training
Jeremy singing quietly to himself in the bathroom, “I am peeping my Lord, Kum Bah Yah. Oh, Lord. Kum Bah Yah.”

Jeremy on Christmas Eve
We kept the kids in the Christmas Eve service with us this year, and heard a man cough in the row ahead of him. Into the quiet sanctuary Jeremy clearly admonished, “Cover your mouth!” and had the entire row ahead of us doubled over in laughter.

Here is a test of my mobile blogging capabilities. The entries will be worse but potentially more frequent.

This message was sent using PIX-FLIX Messaging service from Verizon Wireless!

Christmas 2007

Jeremy 3yrs. Ian 3yrs. Molly 9mos.


Molly 9mos.



Jeremy 3yrs. Ian 3yrs.

Happy Halloween

Flight Crew and Ground Crew


Just Like Daddy


Happy Ground Crew

Pumpkin Patch

Ian left, Jeremy right

Cousin Daniel and Molly

Jeremy

Ian

There is a huge benefit to having a Brooks Photography student living in our home. Jen came with us to the pumpkin patch this week to take pictures for a school project; a brochure on Ian and Jeremy. This will come in handy if we ever decide to sell them. Molly didn't miss out on the action, either!

Cute story of the week: This morning Jeremy was trying to snuggle into Brad but couldn't get comfortable on Brad's collarbone. Jeremy said, "I can't find a parking spot." He nuzzled around some more and happily exclaimed, "I found a parking spot for me!"

I also watched in amazement as Jeremy placed two suction cups on his chest in the bathtub, saying "thump thump, thump thump" then he took them off and said, "Molly, here's some milk for you." Thanks, Jeremy.

Keeping Busy

This morning Brad had to sneak out to the garage to pay bills alone. I got boys dressed, properly disposed of a wayward poop that did NOT go in the hard-to-miss potty located in our kitchen, and got Molly down for her first nap of the day. Washed scrambled egg dregs down the drain, and wiped jelly off of two southernmost chairs at the table. Molly cried to be petted to sleep and as she conked out I sighed with relief and thought, "Oh, how nice that the boys are playing quietly in the living room." They had located the dry pasta wagon wheels and were practicing crunching and spitting them over the edge of the couch.

At least they were playing quietly.

We're really into potty training right now. If you come over, you might catch Jeremy fully clothed, crouched beside Ian and peering into the potty saying, "Nice and calm, Ian, Nice and calm. Good job, Ian." I also recommend that you wear shoes.

Quick Photo Update

Tummy Time Times Three


The Palm Tree Hairdo... last seen in the family in 1975... now proudly worn by 2-month-old Molly Leanne!

Molly Home Again

"Viral Something" is the official diagnosis for our little Molly. She came off the IV Wednesday night and began eating well, and generally feeling better. No new scary things grew in her blood samples overnight, either. So they let her come home from the hospital today. We'll keep a close eye on her, and continue to thank God for answering the onslaught of prayers He received this week on her behalf.

Would it have been better to keep her at home and just give her Tylenol? Seems we could have had the same results without all the drama. But I guess that's why they don't say that foresight is 20/20.

We appreciate your walking through this one with us.

Love,
Megan & Brad

Molly - Maybe Meningitis?

The quick update: Molly took an odd turn on Sunday night, and was admitted to the hospital on Monday to rule out bacterial and/or viral meningitis. Yesterday was a battery of procedures including 3 unsuccessful spinal taps and no firm diagnosis.

This morning (Tues) she woke up looking much better and today her bloodwork shows more leaning toward something viral rather than bacterial. We'll wait another day and if she improves, and no bacteria surfaces in the samples taken on Monday, we should be home on Thursday. Possibly?

Monday was hard. Today has been better. Tomorrow Great Aunt Debbie is coming up to be the twin parent, and Brad is going to fly. We hope to wake up to an even healthier Molly, and while we may never know what has hit our poor little nugget, we rest and hope in the hunch of the hospital pediatrician that it's a "viral something" that will pass soon.

We feel your love and prayers. Thank you! (Megan posting - sorry for the lack of creativity for all those who were expecting Brad!)

Vote For Chris Mundell

My good friend Chris Mundell entered a competition to be the VP of Pizza. He is in the top 3. The winner is decided by votes and it is a very close race between him and one other. Winner takes $25,000 and a lot of Pizza.

Please do a good deed and find time to vote for his entry today. I won't even begin to say all the reasons he should win, but trust me he should.. And his entry rules.

He is the one in the middle, playing guitar.

Here is the link. Please tell a friend.


VP of Pizza Contest

Furball

Average Post

I am supposed to be asleep. I should know better than to write while supine, worse to publish when my BS detector is so compromised. Some things that I write look so good in the dark:

The cars out on Turnpike have all gone home and parked, and my family has fallen happily asleep at the other end of that dark hall I am looking down. I am here, on our couch in the glow of my laptop listening to the grandfather clock ring through numbers I should only hear during the day. It is quiet except for that and the squeaks of my daughter swinging next to me. I think I came out here because she wasn’t sleeping, and here I am awake writing about how she is asleep. I am sure it will make perfect sense in the morning.

She looks like the pope; all wrinkled, hunched and peaceful. She spends most of her time looking that way…Or pissed off that we are trying to disturb her perfect baby sleep. She is shrouded in mystery. She is my daughter. My only one. I have no idea who she is. They say I will be wrapped around her finger, and somehow I don’t doubt it. I am an easy target. But for now I sit around looking at her, thinking that she will reveal something about who she is going to be. Something more than: Molly Leanne, 9 lbs 1 oz, lots of black hair. I look expectantly as though she will look up and make eye contact and say “Hi daddy I love you.” But she just sits there looking like the pope, grunting and going cross-eyed smelling like a vitamin store*. I am in love with who she will be; In spite of, or especially because of the fact that I have no control over who that is. I know that in three weeks I will know so much more, in 3 months even more, and in 3 years even more. For tonight, nine nights old, she is all guess work.


*Author’s note: While all U2 fans know that it is true that “Freedom has a scent like the top of a newborn baby’s head” Bono gave us little info on what the other end has a scent like. Compared to the scent of a toddler diaper, I am happy to call a newborn diaper "freedom."

Then There Were Five.

Molly Leanne McCarter, Born 9:43 AM March 16, 9 Lbs, 1 ounce, 20 inches.

She weighs a pound and half more than Ian and Jeremy combined at birth. She is very happy,healthy and sleepy. (And hairy)

Pink's not so bad.

More on that later.




Molly & Megan & Brad in Operating room.





Mommy & Molly






This picture only proves how hard it is for a family of 5 to share a hospital bed. (with post-op mom.)

Christmas Letter 2006

I have never heard those sleigh bells jingle-ing or ring ting-tingle-ling. But I have heard a couple toddlers running down the hall with bells hanging on their ears - and I am pretty sure that it is better. I have noticed that our heater is running a little bit harder lately and that we are running a bit easier. I have noticed that our family is putting on the winter fat. Or maybe it is the baby growing in Megan that is doing that. As for mine I would like to believe it is ‘sympathy’ weight. Sympathy for uneaten Christmas cookies.

Here are a few things we learned this year:

1. Don’t attempt conversation with toddlers present.
2. A whole new language. For instance caterpillar = peeler pilauer.
3. Family planning is a waste of time.


News brief: We are currently exactly average. We have 2.5 kids. Megan is making our daughter and doing a nice job of it (due in March.) Brad upgraded to captain and is still based in Santa Barbara. The twins just turned two and can tell you so, but don’t know what it means. Ian likes putting oranges in gopher holes. Jeremy wants to hug busses. Neither is sure whom they are looking at when they look in a mirror. They are able to sit still for up to 20 seconds at a time. Not a day goes by that they do not say something to make us laugh out loud.

This year was full of reminders that we are guaranteed nothing and entitled to nothing. The fact that Jesus showed up in a feed trough and died in his 30s is just one more reminder. So from the comfort of our overstuffed winter bed, our bellies overstuffed with interestingly shaped colorful cookies, we can only be grateful. In the light of ever-present suffering, it is our only option. For our bed, our boys, electric Christmas lights, cookies, our girl on the way, winter weight, forced air gas heating, Christmas music to remind us that she bore to us a savior, and for each other, still happy. Of all the 1000 ways that things could be different by year 3 of our marriage I have nothing but gratitude. Pure gratitude.

Merry Christmas
Brad, Megan, Ian, Jeremy, and baby sister

Punk Punks

Because I am a thoughtful and compassionate husband, I wanted to bring Megan to a water park this summer. We would have been the oldest people there who were not chaperoning a youth group. Perhaps, also, the whitest and flabbiest, except that we would have gone to a water park in New Braunfels Texas - we might have looked pretty good. Everyone thinks that they would go to Europe for the weekend if they had free airfare. But they wouldn’t. They would decide that the flying time would be a weekend, and would end up going to New Braunfels instead. It is the home of the Schlitterbahn, which is, as far as we can tell the best water park ever. It is also where Leigh Nash from Sixpence None the Richer worked on the “Coke float” when she was in high school. That truth singularly proves that anyone can be a rock star.

We didn’t go there though, because being, (or getting) pregnant at a water park is not advised. It could also be embarrassing and weird. Rather, we attended an event at which we were the youngest who were not being chaperoned. And so it was that we found ourselves last night in St Paul in the fall. Indeed our vacationing standards are different than they were. Vacation is not a destination anymore - it is an absence. We felt comfortable about being in the twin cities, but were really just happy eating meals without cutting anything into squares. When we sat in the plane, delayed for four hours, we were probably the happiest people on the plane. There were people bringing us snacks. It was really very relaxing.

Outside it was colder than Santa Barbara ever is, but inside we felt quite at home. Warmed by sweaters and stories, folk music and an old guy in a suit and red sneakers who talked 2000 adults into singing “you are my sunshine.” Megan and I saw Garrison Keillor on our second date and have listened to his live radio show many times. I will admit an impressed chill ran down our spines when he quietly stated, “We’ll go live in 10 seconds there is nothing to stop it” and seamlessly the music built as he welcomed America to the Prairie Home Companion live from the Fitzgerald Theater in downtown St. Paul. I have heard the phrase so many times. It means something different when you are in the Fitzgerald Theater.

And so I know that it is fall, Minnesota sends a message to let us know. Maybe the time will change soon, maybe we will find a leaf or two in our drought resistant landscaping to rake into our compost piles, maybe we’ll decide to wear a sweater only because it seems like we should. We won’t be hauling the docks in off the lake, or installing snow tires but we will look for our shadows to grow in stature, the lighting to change on the mountains and soon the sun will begin to set over the ocean again. I know it is fall because, in spite of my efforts to cut back on sugar, we already polished off a bag of Baby Ruths. Megan says our baby needs them. Mostly I know it is fall because the twins broadcast it for us. Not a decorative gourd escapes the all-seeing eyes of Ian or Jeremy. Not a real, plastic, painted or cutout pumpkin eludes them. It is their job. Everywhere we turn, “punk punk, punk punk.” I love the fall. Here are the pictures.


Ian 


Jeremy. Right after this we discovered he had a 102 fever. He hides it well! 


Ian throwing hay. 



Nice pose Jer. 

Left over summer pics

Here are a couple pics long over due from summer. We'll be posting the punk-punk extravaganza '06 soon (read "pictures from the pumpkin patch"). Stay tuned.

Jet Puff 1. Jeremy left. Ian right. 

Jet Puff 2. J left. I right. 

Jet puff 3. Jeremy front. Ian back. 

Oh the wonder! Ian 

J-bear sleepin. 

Jeremy 

Check it out 3 posts in one day!

Or does this one make it 4? As usual read from the bottom up for most accurate chronology.

Why God is Funny

Usually the funniest things happen when you are not allowed to laugh about them. I am not sure if the things are really more funny or if it is the guilt in laughing that makes it feel so good. I only know that I don’t laugh to tears about a mispronunciation of the “prophet Amos” except during a sermon.

Perhaps you can appreciate then, how incredibly alone I felt at Costco the other day when I experienced this: There at the end of my aisle next to the meats and cheeses was a karaoke professional. Let’s call him Dave. I am not joking. Neither was he. Hired by Costco to boost sales on the Kirkland home karaoke system, there stood Dave in his everyman jeans and white tennis shoes, looking like any mildly overweight American middle manager type on his day off. Except, that this was not his day off. He was standing in the concrete aisle with his Costco nametag on a lanyard singing Knights in White Satin, and he was really good. I could not look him in the eye. Neigh, I could hardly lift my head for fear of him knowing what troubled joy his predicament was causing me. I mean he was really good. All I could wonder was how did this happen? I wondered if this is one of those jobs that no one knows how to get. Like being a blimp pilot. No one has a friend who flies blimps. Airships were on my mind because of the recent crash of a Hood Dairy blimp in the northeast. I watched the coverage on CNN who could paint a tire blowout as a catastrophe of epic historical proportion, and they said that the disaster involved the blimp resting on the tree tops while the pilots tried to determine if they could simply repair the problem and fly away. I wouldn’t mind being in that air disaster myself. “I crashed the blimp again today” I would say as I loosened my tie and took off my blimp captain’s hat. Almost anything you could hit would involve bouncing or floating. All of that has little to do with Dave’s job except that both jobs are full of mystery to me. Was Dave a Costco greeter with a gift and nothing to loose? A hidden talent that was discovered at a company holiday party? Or is he a Karaoke consultant, hired to make it look easy to the bulk buying masses? Or worse was Dave the guy who meant it when he said “I’ll do anything to do what I love.” Be careful what you wish for. You might end up next to plastic Christmas tree in September singing Bob Seeger songs to people looking for the right salami pack.

All of this was going through my head, except a lot faster while I was looking at a shelving unit to store my own baggage in, and I kept looking up hoping for anyone to make eye contact with who could share all of these thoughts about Dave’s problem/job by sharing a quick laughing glance. But no one, and I really wanted to commune with someone about this, would look up. People were walking by him looking at the futon next him, discussing the price, a worker was assembling a display and everyone thought this was all perfectly normal. Knights in White Satin… loud enough to be heard throughout the store! I can not possibly be alone on this. I thought less of every person who passed without acknowledging the depth of the dark comedy unfolding at the end of the cheese aisle.

And what I really wished was that my friend Matt was at Costco today. Matt would have bounced with inexpressible wonder as he tried to figure out how best to capture the moment. It is things like this that make me happy in the face of the sorrow of losing Matt this week. Happy not only because it reminds me of Matt’s own dark gift of sarcastic criticism which made me laugh so many times. Not only because it causes me to share something with Matt in my mind which I know he would have appreciated. But mostly because it makes me think about where Matt is now. I know that he is in the all encompassing presence of the most creative being that is. Not just creative like he can make a monkey or an elephant, but like he made up the things that are funny about monkeys and probably thinks its weird that elephants can pull stuff to their mouth with this really long nose/arm/hand like thing. It has made me think a lot about Matt’s new residence. I think God is funny. I can’t really think what kind of jokes are funny to God. Like I am not really sure if the Amos thing was funny to God or not. But it seems like someone taught us to laugh at stuff. And someone created us funny and not funny, in his own image. I am pretty sure that Matt made God laugh and even more sure that it is reciprocal. That makes me happy, even while I miss Matt every time I notice him missing.


Here is a slide show of Matt and his family.

Cap'n

My return to normal life has been far less dramatic this time through. Camp Skywest is as numbing as usual, and home life is as relieving, but this time I did not cry on my bacon. I collected my fourth stripe and my starred wings and commenced making authoritative but relaxed sounding P.A. announcements. The biggest difference is that I now sit where the passengers see me while boarding. Which means that I need to visually exude the same relaxed confidence for the one in five passengers who looks up with the examining look, who is trying to determine whether or not they ought to trust their lives into these hands. It would make a very interesting psychology study, to see which pilots people felt would be good pilots verses which pilots were actually good pilots.

More importantly I am back to full time parenting my poor sons who still apparently think I live on the other end of the telephone. Of course they also think that the remote control is a phone.

A guy who I used to fly with, who has 5 kids and is overly wise for a pilot said that if you got dropped into parenting at any point except where you do, you could not possibly handle it. True. You start with a few cells, no needs, and no skills, yet, you are a parent. Though the rest of your life will be influenced by and centered around the outcome of those cells, for now you only need to incubate. And for now our boys’ needs are simple. Simple enough for me to handle. For now.

This is the part that is so incredibly intimidating. When I am 60 something they could look at me with the same anticipation and need for my approval as they do now. It just won’t be so obvious. When I used to play music more, there was this kid who kept showing up at our shows. He would stand directly in front of me in the front row. He would not look at anyone else. He would watch me. He also played bass. He watched my hands, and I could feel the intensity of his watching. My hands would sweat because I knew he would spot all my mistakes. He did not blink. Eventually his band opened for our band, and he showed up with my exact make and color of bass, my exact amp. Obviously it was creepy, but that’s not really my point. I could only keep thinking, “I am not that good”.

Imitation may be the sincerest form of flattery but I am not sure it translates when it is genetic. Ian and Jeremy had little choice but to inherit the bad with the good from dear old dad. Similarly they may have little choice but to learn from the actions of my life. But here is my growing audience. Ian and Jeremy with front row seats to my average little show. My hands are sweating.

Excuses of Bad Bloggers

I didn’t mean to go three months without writing. I didn’t mean to, yet that is what happened isn’t it? Let me explain. In July, Megan had 3 part time jobs, then my dad said we could move into his other house on July 5th. Then Skywest said I could go be a captain if I started class on July 10th. Then Megan sent me a text message while I was in Salt Lake with a picture of a positive pregnancy test. Then I got home and unpacked some boxes. Then I was ready to put up a couple posts but then our good friend Matt died from the brain cancer he had been fighting for the last 2 plus years. Then, I’ll be honest, I could not write a thing that seemed right. I only wanted to write about what was happening with Matt, yet I wasn’t really good enough to say anything that wasn’t trite or dark or some other thing I didn’t want to subject anyone to. So it has gone that I have so many things to write about that I don’t have time to write. So what follows is a string of things that I meant to post, or meant to write better, or meant to put in a better order at a more appropriate time or something, but instead will just be spurted out now rather than never. Forgive, or at least understand, the confusion.

Props Are For Boats

Clearly I have not been writing about the boys recently. It is not for lack of material. Or desire. It would just be much easier if I could observe and write about them from a safe distance. For instance, I could install a two-way mirror in our home so that I could be in range but out of reach. I would be Brad Goodall, observer of the playful and social climbing human toddler. As it is, if I would sit down with my laptop on the couch, like I used to, and begin to watch them and type, this is what my entry would look like:

“Ian is walking towar…. Stomp… waddle…asdvassssssssvvsssssssss” At which time I would be looking for the ‘s’ key on the floor between bits of cracker, blocks and sippy-cups. After unsuccessfully searching for the key for several days it would be added to the long list of items lost in the Toddler Relocation Program (TRP). A few items recently recovered from said program include: one sandal in a baking tin in the cupboard, a pair of kitchen tongs under the dresser and the remote control in the diaper can.

Regardless, our life as often suffers from cute overload as it does from TRP. I know it is a parent’s job to find their kids cute regardless of their slobber and snaggle-toothedness, but that is not the kind of cute I am talking about. It is that after a year of double the workload we are beginning to reap the benefits of two-ness. I don’t know what we would do with one. What is better than two mop heads starting a game of peek-a-boo with each other around the side of a chair, and getting themselves laughing so hard about it that they lose control. Or when Jeremy goes pacifier hunting in the bedroom and brings back two with the express purpose of giving one to Ian. Or when Ian sees Jeremy and excitedly shouts Jay Jay.

In the news:

I received word today that I have been ‘awarded’ a new position at SkyWest. I have been a ‘First Officer’ for the last two and a half years and will now be a Captain. Initially I will be based in San Luis Obispo, until a Captain leaves Santa Barbara. This is very good news, and again very unexpected as far as timing goes. I will go back to the Brasilia: the smaller, louder, slower airplane that I flew in my first year at SkyWest. It is considered an upgrade because of the job position even though it is a ‘lesser’ airplane. It is kind of a little-fish/big pond vs. big-fish/little pond kind of situation. If you end up on one of my flights please don’t make any jokes about where first class is, or ask if I wound up the rubber bands or include any phrases about props being for boats. It is good to remember that one of the things that you should not tell a man is small, is his airplane. Your cooperation with all uniformed crewmembers is appreciated.

Beach Babies

"Hey, what's in your bucket, Ian?"


Jeremy on his makeshift cell phone


Ian

Baja Babies

Here are a few pictures from our last-minute trip to Baja. I had a week off work and airline priveledges. We had two stroller/car-seat combos, one roller bag, a day-pack and two toddlers who seemed to think Mexico would be as much fun as the toys on the living room floor. The idea was to find a "fishing village" on the Sea of Cortez side and stay in something with a thatched roof. We found it several hours up the coast in La Ventana. Here are the pics.


The Ideal. 


The Real! 


Jeremy front, Ian back. 


Why we love Super Pollo! 


Jeremy enjoying the view.