Category Archives: Abby

All things relating to Abby

Labor and Delivery Video

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No, I don’t have one. Yes, people are hitting my site whilst searching for the term on the ‘Inkernet.’ Who, in their right mind, wants to watch that? If you are pregnant, looking for that video, please consider going to a pregnancy preparation class or checking your local library. Labor and Delivery is often long and if you downloaded a real time video of that on the Internet it would take a long time. Secondly, being in the same room with my wife as she labored to get our little pumkin girl was really intense – you wouldnt’ want to see that.

In fact, while my bride was huffing, puffing and blowing the hospital down she got this look so intense on her face that I was litterally scared. I thought, “Self, if you ever see that look on her face in a non-labor and delivery situation – run. FAST!” This is because inside of Jessica muscles were doing things that were so intense that only Arnold Schwarteneiger and a small handfull of body building men could possibly understand: she was pushing with all of her might. Of course it was all worth it when the Abigator came out – but dont’ look for those sorts of videos online. If you have to check out Yahoo’s nifty online video search.

Axitude

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Yesterday morning after her swimming lessons Abby came in and said, “Daddy, I have an axitude.”

Which is totally right, if you don’t go the Abby way, she cuts you off 🙂 Apparently she’s been using an ax the whole time.

Bird: Feeders and Poop

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So we got a bird feeder a couple weeks ago and the birds didn’t touch it. Mostly because we got a song bird feeder and the song birds apparently run the same circuit and our house was not on the map. Then one day a bird, who was lost and didn’t want to go home anyway, found our bird feeder. He and a few of his buddies, being the kind of gluttonous birds that birds can be, started singing songs in our neck of the woods for food.

So we bought more bird feeders.

Dumb.

Now there is bird poop all around the feeders and I have to ask the birds to keep their language clean so that Abby doesn’t pick up any fowl mouth stuff**.

** I so crack me up.

The Piano Movers are Coming

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The Piano movers bring with them an old piano from the year 1372 and a half, predating all other pianos by several hundred years. Actually, it’s not that old. It is however the piano I composed quite a few original tunes on – none of which I can play any longer because its been so long since I had a piano in my possession. The piano was given to my parents by Christopher Columbus upon arriving in California. They traded it to him for some corn, wheat and fish. He said, “Though canst have mine pinano [SIC] if thine food doth sustaineth me.” Which, for a Italian was pretty good English. My parents, being 20th century metropolitan folks said to each other, “This guy must have been hanging out with all of the other hippies – I can’t understand most of what he is saying.”

And so the piano became a family heirloom.

I am looking forward to having this piano in my home until my parents get another dwelling that they can store such things in. It will give me a chance to polish up my chops so that I can sound like ‘Fats’ Waller, ‘Fats’ Domino and many other Adkins diet inspired piano players. I also hope to play a little Tchaikovski, as Victor Borge said, very little.

You see, I’m a lazy bum when it comes to playing sheet music. My sister-in-law Becca plays very well and is quite accomplished. I measure my accomplishments differently simply because if I look that far up in the piano world I get a kink in my neck and I have to go immediately to Boardwalk, pay $200.00 passing ‘Go’ and then head straight to the Chiropractor. So, I play, I have fun, and I mash up my favorite Beatles Piano hits with the mirriad Beasty Boy piano hits until no one recognizes it… then I call it Jazz.

I’ll try to record some of this ‘so called’ music some time.

Update: It’s hear, and in as sound a coundition as this piano can be. The movers were quick, courteous, and tried not to make fun of this shabby old ‘pinano’.

Post Script: Abby calls it a ‘pinano’.

Two Abby-isms

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This morning Abby got the ‘unk.’ That is to say she used two words that had ‘unk’ in them. The first was that she wanted peanut butter on her toast, but without the ‘junks.’ That’s chunks for you readers who were concerned with junky peanut butter (read:partially hydrogenated vegetable oils).

Then, she listened to our discussion about paint in the kitchen and she said, “That’s a good color. It’s funky.”

I can feel the James Brown coming on my iTunes now.

EEFFOC SKCUBRATS

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This morning while at Safeway buying food stuffs Abby started reading off the letters of the Starbucks sign… backwards. She still has a bit of a time identifying K’s and X’s and Y’s because they all have ‘crossing lines’ [or so I guess]. However, she’s just so smart it’s amazing.

Also, while at Safeway looking for cocoa powder we walked past the coffee section. Of course a large sign says, “Gourmet” over the section. And, of course, the sign is over the Folgers, Sana and ‘Cheap Cup ‘O Coffee’ brands. How can they put that sign over the cheap stuff? That’s like saying a Yugo car is a fast car just because you put it up next to a model-t Ford! You can find a worse cup of coffee, but ‘Gourmet’ by what standards? My taste buds are defended offended.

Short Tales

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This morning after watering the flowers with me, Abby asked me to sit down with her on the front steps because she wanted to talk. This of course if most father’s dream come true. I hope that we have ‘talks’ for years until Jesus returns or I die. She of course didn’t want to talk about boys, the meaning of life or breakfast, but instead she proceeded to tell me stories. She told me about a little girl names Abby, a story about Grandpa and Grandma (no last name given, so if you’re a grandparent reading this, pretend it’s you), and one story that started like this:

Once upon a time there was a little boy called my daddy…

Which she never finished, but it tickles me to be that boy 🙂

Enough of the Negat’ism

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Well, the last couple posts have been rather negative. For that I apologize. It is now time for something completely different:

Abby likes jumping. A lot. More than a lot. I think that today she might possibly have burned enough calories to lose me a pound or two. She’s just a jumping little girl. When she gets excited she jumps, when she gets upset because she’s not getting her way she jumps and then slumps. When she’s playing she jumps. Sometimes when we’re praying she jumps. If this were green eggs and ham she would eat them jumping without a question.

I think in the end though, she likes jumping because temporarily, for just the slightest fraction of time she’s suspended in the air and that’s quite a feeling when a fraction of a second is a longer part of your life than when you’re 27 🙂

Killer on the Loose

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Abby is now a violent killing machine. Every time ants, bugs or pretty much anything moves on the patio she must stomp on it. Frankly, it cracks me up. I think that her bug smashing is good clean fun… except for the bottom of her shoes.