Young Old's First Sand Picnic

During our not-so-recent trip to California, Young Old enjoyed his first sandy coastal experience at Ocean Beach in San Francisco. Simply put, he was ecstatic, practically giggling the instant his squirmy little toes touched icy damp sand. He reveled in the usual beach activities we all participated in as children, i.e. forgetting to watch for sleeper waves and getting his pants soaked, dining on a scrumptious meal of sand and seaweed, and the classic favorite...digging for China. You need to work on your technique, little buddy, as you barely made it through this side of the Earth's upper mantle.

A few snapshots:
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"This is very important, Young Old. Remember to never turn your back on the Ocean, as She is a vengeful creature. Oh, hey there, sleeper wave!"

Young Old sets out on his expedition to the Far East. With so few provisions, no wonder it ended in disaster.

Seriously, what happens to the dirty, care-free and adventurous creatures we all began life as? Society sure crushed my little inner fun boy, as there's no way in hell I'm getting sand in my latte. Seemingly, this sentiment is apparently genetic, as neither GrandPops or Uncle Danpa traded in their well-cared for appearances for cold gritty wetness.

"Um, Mom and Dad...can I eat this?" Sure thing, son. Whatever makes you happy. Just try to munch around that decaying seagull.

This unbridled joy is what makes all those sleepless nights and explosive diapers pencil out, though I must admit his joie de vivre was short-lived once we aimed the water hose his way. Sorry, pal, no sand in the car seat.

A Star is Born

Young Old recently discovered Guitar Hero while visiting his Nana. After a few minutes spent observing the awesome shredding skills of his Mama K and Aunt T (you ladies rawk!) and randomly picking away at the buttons, he burst into flames (hairspray and cigarettes don't mix, my son) and was born anew into a Metal God.

Observe:


While I must admit that his new lifestyle is not without its discomforts (all night parties, diseased groupies sleeping on our couch, and rampant heroin usage), it does have its benefits (all night parties, diseased groupies sleeping on our couch, and rampant heroin usage).



Rock on, little buddy, rock on.

Young Old, The Movie XXIV

Life, it seems, has gotten the lion's share of our time yet again, leaving little energy for the blog. We've slept in our own beds for a grand total of three weeks this summer, and have recently attended our seventh wedding out of eight for the year. Not much of an excuse, but I'm rolling with it. Anyway, got another week and a half before Mama K heads back to work, so here's to hoping I'll have a few extra hours to play catch up for y'all. Seems that once again, we're almost two months behind with photos, videos, stories, and the ever-popular lunar updates. A seemingly insurmountable challenge, I know, but I've got to do right by my boy and make him proud of his Papa someday. So here we go...

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Young Old says howdy to all his fans out there in WWWville.

Year One

Happy Birthday, son.

It's a big day for you, Young Old, though I'm sure you won't grasp the importance of it for years to come. You've chosen a life with us, and we welcome you with caring arms for the remainder of our time with you. You've graced our lives with your presence in our family, and for that, we are eternally grateful to you.

With forever and always love,
Papa Old and Mama K

[B-day bash photos to follow sometime in the next week or so.-Ed.]

3...2...1...Liftoff

And the moment you've all been waiting for...

Young Old took several steps not but 20 minutes ago, greedily reaching for another delicious sip of my world-famous Good Earth sun tea.

He then repeated his stutter step 3.72 minutes later, proving that, indeed, this is not a fluke.

All systems go.

That's one small step for The Boy, one giant leap for parental responsibilities.

Wish us luck...

Cali Travels v.3

Okay, one more Cali post, this time detailing Young Old's Uncle Danpa's wedding, and then on to some other shit, I swear. Loved the weddings, folks, but I gotta tackle this mounting list of the Young One's more recent activities ASAP.

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One very excited Uncle Briguy, snatching up Young Old during a lull in the festivities. The excitement quickly withered after Young Old burped a good one out his butt shoot.

Three generations of the Old Family. I'm probably thinking what you're thinking...I sure got screwed in the hair department.

Young Old somehow sneaked into the "siblings" photo, radically altering the theme. We struggled for weeks determining what category this photo would fall into, finally settling on "etc."

Young Old and his (sorta) newly-wed Uncle Danpa (they married last year, but held the formal celebration on their one-year anniversary). Soon after this photo, we caught my brother teaching his nephew about the wonders of pond scum and the crunchy texture of dragonflies. Thanks, dude...I was avoiding that particular lesson.

Young Old taking a much-needed break from the 106 degree weather, as well as all that ridiculous cheek pinching. Seriously, what's up with that tradition?

Behold Sir Young, who doth acted the part of a most chivalrous knight, did keepeth a distressed Damsel K from feeling yon effects of a truly hellacious atmosphere.

All a man needs in life, is this right here:

The Cult of M__________ gathers 'round. Young Old proceeded to devour Auntie Marie's bouquet. We're still wiping pollen chunks out of his butt crack and fending off honey bees almost two months later.

Young Old, enthralled by our corrupting lessons of mischief, mayhem and general roguishness.

Aunt T gave us a break from The Boy, allowing us to finally gulp down some vittles and bits. Thanks, yo. We owe you one.

Young Old, escorting Second Cousin M around the reception grounds. And no, he's not walking unassisted yet, so stop asking. You'll be the first to know, believe that.

Oh yes, we get down.
Thanks for the party, Dan and Marie. Good times, and again, congrats.
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[Thanks to The Bruce for most of these fine photographs.-Ed.]

Cali Travels v.2

Finally, we've made it back to civilization. It was an adventure-fraught journey, full of long waits for delayed flights, greasy diner food, cramped seats, one seriously pissed-off child, ridiculously anal security agents, grumpy airline staff, long shuttle rides, and about 3.5 hours of sleep (punctuated at 12-minute intervals by Young Old repeatedly climbing down from the bed and attempting to program the hotel room's electronic safe...BEEP BEEP BEEEEEEEP). As I'm sure you can imagine, it was awesome. Anyway, give me a few more days, and this thing should be back on something approaching a normal schedule. Thanks for being the darling little patient readers that you are...

Anyway, here's the second batch of photos from Young Old's first trip to Cali. This series, along with the next set, concern the 17 weddings [Only three, Old the Exaggerator.-Ed.] we attended in seven days.

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A dazed Young Old, wondering what all the fuss is about. I think he's still attempting to figure out why daddy tried to hang himself several times that week with all those fancy silk ropes.

Young Old, representing at his Uncle MattyMatt's wedding at the Oakland Museum, posing up with his Uncle Green and Uncle Arturo. He acted like a champ during all three ceremonies/receptions, but in his own little act of rebellion directed at the week's chaos, he steadfastly refused to look at the camera.

"Okay, I can do this. One down, two to go. Oh, but it's sooooo meltingly-hot outside! My Portland-made body just doesn't agree with 95 degrees Fahrenheit," The Boy muttered. Sensing an imminent case of heatstroke, we retreated into the cavernous safehouses of nearby wineries for refreshments and A/C. By the way, Young Old loves his new complementary wine corker.

Mama K, striking as always, helping the Young One keep cool at my Cousin J's wedding at the Kunde Winery. Lovely setting, and we all had a great time. Sadly, all this sun bleached and damaged Young Old's silky-dark, flowing curls, leaving them crispy, blond, and thin. His hairdresser Auntie Ren was so not pleased.

Aunt T and Nana assisting Sir Young in his attempted removal of the Sword from the Stone. Needless to say, he was unsuccessful in his attempt at finding something more meaningful to do with his time, like slaying dragons and uniting Britannia, resigning him to a lifetime of scrubbing dishes and massaging our feet.

Our hot, sweaty little family.

Young Old getting in some quality time with Papa Old's brother Danpa. Note the trashy absence of his pants. Nothing like rocking the diaper at what was likely a $40,000 wedding. Truly classy, my boy.

Young Old, bored by the traditional Christian ceremony (no offence, God-fans, but the thing could use a bit more spice), hit the snooze button, missing out on a great second half, a modified Hindi wedding ceremony. It was wonderful, Cousins J and A, thanks for the invitation.

Our little Sweat Monster sliming it up with his Great-Grand-Papa. Great-Grand-Nami not pictured, but still loved.

The Funky Young One showing Mama K how to "Get on the Good Foot."

Mama K and Aunt T, barely containing a Young Old rearing to literally dehydrate himself from dance overload. The kid's a natural. A few more years and he'll be hitting the child star circuit, finally earning his keep around these parts.

Young Old getting in a brief visit with the J Bride and trying very hard not to stuff that delicious-looking spiderweb she's wearing on her head into his slavering maw. Thanks for exercising your restraint, little buddy. In fact, you were amazing all week, and I hereby officially nominate you for the category of Best Behaved Baby Boy. You done good, son.

[Thanks to Aunt T and The Bruce for several of these photos!-Ed.]

Word Received from the Old Family

Hi gang, John here. 

As a friend of Young Old's father, living nearby in Sitka, Alaska, I was given the solemn duty of updating his readers on the status of their family out there in The Bush. Via smoke signal, Papa Old wanted all of you to know that the Internet has officially refused to function, precluding all further posts until their return to civilization. Furthermore (and the signals became a bit illegible here, Old's survival skills obviously suffering from a bit of rust), it sounds like the weather is so terrible that the float plane operator they're relying on to extricate them from their fishing village is paralyzed with fear, and incapable of flying out to the rescue until things clear up. I couldn't pick up from Old's scattered wisps of smoke whether or not they had any semi-definite plan in place, but there seemed to be mention of a 300-mile cross-country triumphant return via grizzly-dodging bushwacking, or alternatively, some attempt made at harnessing a polar bear and rafting home. He did make it abundantly clear that all was well with Mama K, Young Old and Grandpa Alaska.

I'll be sure to keep you in the loop as the smoke drifts my way.

Best,

John