Someone give my daughter some beads.

Abs and Moms.

Thanks Lori for the reply yesterday. I hate to beat a dead horse, but seriously...I mean, seriously...how can they just unilaterally decided that us people with normal ratio tvs are dinosaurs? Bah! Meh!

This morning, we went to watch our niece Kyla play soccer. This turned out to be more of a practice than a game, which in turn turned out to me more a massive game of "Duck duck goose" when the coach and/or the balls did not turn up for a while. When they did, it became clear that our niece is actually pretty good at footy. Go, girl.

The highlight (for our kids, at least) was when Lily waddled over to a bunch of people and stared at them from a few feet away. We watched. The other people looked at her. There was uncertainty thick in the air. Then Lily layed her cards on the table and flashed them. Yup. Lifted up her shirt for all to see her gleaming white belly, "Girls Gone Wild" style.

The rest of the day was a blur of chores. A chorey blur. A chlure.

Tonight Chris, Emily, and Ella came over for dinner. We made a quick foray into the park for me to nab a Poho365 photo, where there was an alfresco performance of a play called "The Buddha Prince". Good stuff.

Day two hundred and fifteen.

My little runaway. Run run run run runaway.

A rare glimpse of Lily actually running at me.

Scouring the powderhorn hillside for things that are only known to her and her alone.

This post is much gripier than I expected it to be.

85% of all horsey ride accidents happen in the home.

I feel a rant bubbling up inside of me. It hurts to hold it in; it must be let out. (it'll be short. Sit tight.)

We certainly don't let the kids watch too much tv. Most days they watch none at all. When they do managed to turn it on (they both know how to do this now, but I'm proud to say it doesn't happen often and they don't complain when we insist that it be off), we usually go right to PBS and enjoy whatever they're offering. Unless it's late at night and it's some interminably odd Cockney comedy from 1980's-era BBC. Sorry, Andy.)

However, the educational shows that they air are now broadcast in widescreen. We don't have a widescreen television. We have a perfectly good television from 1999 that works great and I have no intention of deserting it for a newer model. What this means is that all the numbers and letters that Sesame Street (or whoever) is touting that day are cut off on the side. Guess where they almost invariably put the letter/number graphics when they come up? The side. My kids are going to grow up never being able to speak or write the first 1.5 letters in their words.

Seriously. I want to give a big finger to television in general and PBS specifically for just assuming that everyone has a widescreen television. I don't understand this thinking, I'm truly flabbergasted.

Oh, and I've had it with all the pointless construction in this city, too.

And and and (last one)! Why is there a solid 3 hour block of Sex and the City programming aired every night on two channels (two!!) right when I'm writing the blog? Since that puts Jen in charge of the remote, that's what I perpetually get to listen to. For the rest of my life, I won't be able to hear Sarah Jessica Parker's voice without knowing that I desperately need to type so I can get to bed before 1 am.

Grandma Marj came down from the the fine city of Duluth today. We took advantage of her and ran screaming from the house when her back was turned, tore off in the car, and drove to uptown to watch The Informant! It wasn't that exciting...the movie name actually ends in an exclamation point. It was funny, pretty directly so; it did not lack in the subtlety, rather choosing to play up the slapstickiness of the story. Pretty good. I give it a 4 out of 5.

Wish I had more girly news. Check back tomorrow, as I'm certain we'll have a day chock full of twins tomorrow.

Day two hundred and fourteen.

Setting Abby loose in the wild.

Snuggly Snugglersons.

Ah yes; the forgotten Gels.

Maybe my favorite photo of Abs ever.

Hey hey!

(alternate caption: "Hello, Jerry, it's Uncle Leo!")

Another nighttime bike ride. Eager to mix it up and strike out for more varied environs than just the greenway, I headed south to the Minnehaha trail and turned west for Harriet. This seemed like the bicycling equivalent of a slam dunk, since I love the trail and figured it would be sublime at night.

It turned out that it's actually quite treacherous at night. Dark is fun. Pitch dark, not so much. My piddley little Serfa headlight really didn't cast much light around, and that trail heads into some surprisingly - given the dizzying array of affluent houselights all around - woodsy areas. Transiting the echoey dark underbelly of 35W is notably sketchy, what with the trail actually turning to dirt and the 8,000 places from which anyone could jump out to mug the bike out from under you. Even heading around Harriet and Calhoun is astoundingly dark at times.

Ah, but it's not a bike blog, is it? So let's talk children. Ours are madcap lunatics.

They had a good day. From the looks of it, they have settled nicely into the daycare drop off routine. Last week, it was a rough go every day. Today, no sooner had I eased Lily to the floor than she was shooing me away with her hand. "You go now," she said. With her eyes.

Way back before daycare, during the morning routine, Lily stunned us all by singing for what we think might be the first time. We were playing a cow/music box (what a wonderful world we live in), and Jen and I were singing along to the tune. "Doo do doo doooo," we sang. In no time, she was singing along with us, and solo after we'd stopped to listen.

Abby is ridiculously realistic with her roars. I asked her what the lion says right at the outset for our drive to daycare. She roared the entire 3 miles there. "Rrrooaawwwrr!"

Tonight was the annual Powderhorn meeting. We spent the entire time chasing the kids around, but it was okay since there were lots of other kids and it was in a gym and everybody seemed like they were enjoying the spectacle of Lily wandering up to them and babbling nonsense.

One of the highpoints came when councilmember Elizabeth Glidden asked me to watch her kid while she got up to talk. "Sure," I told her, now making myself in charge of Abby and her 11 month old girl while 10 other kids played around us. During her speech, Lily managed to put some distance between her and Jen, and ended up 2 feet away from Elizabeth, staring at her during the entire speech.

Lily was great. She loves watching people give speeches.

Abby was great. She liked to walk around and grab random people's pants.

Day two hundred and thirteen.

C is for cookie, that's good enough for me.

Mmyum yum yummm...curry chicken.

Lily all wrapped up in grassroots neighborhood politickin'. Typical toddler.

Biking at night is keen.

I've dropped the ball on photos. This is a great photo of the Midtown Greenway bridge over Hiawatha Avenue by Tony Webster, resident of Minneapolis.

The girls had a good day today. The daycare drop off was the best since we've restarted their matriculation, with nary a peep or protest from either twin. According to Jen, the pick was similarly enjoyable.

Before dinner, while trying to distract them from their barren stomachs (it'd been an hour since snacks), I filled up an ice cream bucket with soapy water and took them outside. Success! This turned out to be a rock star move. It worked a little too good, since Lily went out of her gourd when I pulled her away from dinner. But, since they were having a banner day, her tantrum lasted only a few seconds.

Lily had a nice first today. While playing with the water bucket, she pulled out a plastic hippo and made a "roar" sound and brandished it at me. That is, as far as I know, the first time she's made a play move like that. I almost didn't realize it for the milestone that it is, until I considered for a bit. Isn't it? Does it not mean that she's not projecting herself into a third person situation (ie, the hippo) and making it attack me? I'm very proud. My kid can project.

After bedtime, I went on a bike ride. It's been far too long since I've been on the bike, and I need to make it a priority again. It's easy to forget how surreally cool the midtown greenway is at night at 18 mph. I can't say enough about how awesome biking at night is. My ride tonight took me up to the greenway, then east to the river and back, which is pretty short. I was psyched to head down the river to maybe the Ford Parkway, but they've torn up the path there. Thought about the street, but people drive like a-holes on that road.

The ride took me twice over hiawatha bridge in the picture above. I love that bridge.

Day two hundred and twelve.

How to flush $286 down the toilet and be able to watch it go 70 feet into your yard.

I'm in a bitterly foul mood. It's one of those cancerous states of mind where you suddenly feel like the entire world is hell-bent on destroying you completely.

It's not always clear what brings these moods to the surface. Tonight, however, it was absolutely Mr. Rooter. Mr. Roto-Rooter to be precise.

Let's back up a step (and in doing so, better illustrate my current mode of thinking) and talk about trees. Where the hell do trees get off sending roots through sewers? What is in it for them? I would think a nonstop deluge of urine and feces would be caustic enough to keep trees' grubby little feelers out of our pipes.

"Ugh," the tree ought to say, "...oh, my, that's gross. My bad." And with that, it would kindly retract himself and be on his way.

For you see, there is a ton of dirt in my yard. There is probably 20 metric tons of dirt in my yard (I have no clue, I made that up; suffice it to say: there's plenty). Go play in my dirt, trees. Go nuts.

That's not good enough for these trees. Notice, if you will, that I call them "these" trees and not "my" trees. That's because they're all happily lined up on the south side of my northerly neighbor's property, joyously giving them shade and a blissful quality of life. These givers-of-shade-to-other-people are directly responsible for the surprise arrival of pools of our own excrement on the laundry room floor. Thanks, trees.

But let's share the blame, shall we? How can they have made pipes in 1914 (assuming they're original to the house) that can't fend off tree roots? Didn't we (humans, I mean) pretty much nail down plumbing, like, 2,000 years ago? Surely tree roots should have been licked by now? Not so much.

Since we've become accustomed to our current quality of life - ie, not having fetidly festering filth in our basement - we called the pros. Two and a half hours older and $286 poorer, I still have no clear reason to think these roots won't wreak havoc again within the next 6 months. Say what you will about the price, it was almost worth it because I got to see the camera snake view of the pipes. This would have been much more fun if it wasn't for him to show me all the root balls that he couldn't get out.

Whatever. I'll stop here, because I could go on for ages. Anyway, it's Gelses vs. the World today. I can't complain; Jen just brought me ice cream, and she's great and the kids are great.

On another tangent: I've always meant, or thought I would eventually, reply to people who comment on the blog. Thank you if you comment, it's always fun to get feedback. So here are some brief replies to recent comments:

- Christy: we miss you too.
- Lori (aka, commenterus emeritus): thanks for liking the pictures. And I still love that you called me Kevin once.
- Kate J: it's seriously touching and fantastic to hear from other parents like you. Thank you for the post and the advice
- Jennifer (aka, the Lady Riposter): don't worry, the cat has gotten his fair share of bites in on the kids. Guinness bites really, wickedly hard (ask my family who've cat sat), and what's great is that it doesn't dissuade the girls in any way. Dogs make great pillows, too.
- Whoever wrote that bailiwick is a great word: absolutely. I'm shuffling that one into the deck.
- Holly: you may be right, I think Abby's already made some dance-like moves. Which is great, because dance-like is as good as I can get. Lily, meanwhile, dances like Elaine from Seinfeld.
- Everyone else who wrote during The Great Miscarriage Debacle of 2009 (Yeah, I'm still using humor to deal with that): your posts and sharing of similar experiences truly helped a lot, thank you.
- Whoever wrote that I look like someone hanging outside the Cozy Bar: thank you? I like the Cozy Bar, despite it's lack of any outright coziness. I do look so haggard in that photo...
- Ruben: loved your tornado story. Thanks for being another crazy person who ignored the sirens. Don't worry, thunder and lightning season is almost to a close.

Alright, that went back a while, so I think I've made a dent in comment reciprocation.

Day two hundred and twelve.

Riding Rowdy

She's graspy.

With all the talk these days of CCD (colony collapse disorder), it's nice to see an industrious little honeybee traipsing through my sedum flowers.

Ah, cottage cheese. Food AND entertainment.

Ducks love hand-thrown bread.

Me and the childrenators.

As today's pictures will clearly illustrate, we went to the park today to feed the ducks. I have to credit Jen for this winning idea for a great use of bread. The girls were certainly intrigued by ducks, these crazy water-based creatures who have a lust for bread ends. Lily got pretty good at throwing pieces at them; Abby ended up eating most of her bread and just watching them anyway. At first blush, this might seem a failure on her part, until you realize that she got all the entertainment Lily did and scored a snack in the process. Go Abs.

I got really excited when I got one duck to catch a piece on the fly. All the others let theirs get wet first.

After this, we started the trek home. As all activities that afford them some modicum of control (in this case, the ability to walk and therefore choose a direction in which to go), it was an unmitigated disaster. They took off in opposite directions (Abby west, Lily east, in case you need to know) and resisted most attempts at gentle steering. This is when the good things with them turn foul. The simple act of trying to walk through the park turns into a massive contest of wills. Either of them will fly off the handle for the slightest provocation. It's pretty maddening.

When I finally picked them up to carry them or put them in the stroller, there was chaos. Backs were arched to the utmost degree. They flailed. They made a scene. And when they were back in the stroller and had a fistful of animal crackers, it was as if none of it had happened and we were all old friends again.

Kids are tiring.

Day two hundred and eleven.

"Quaaaaack!"

The altogether thrilling experience of duck feeding.

Jen feeding Abby to the ducks.

A list of pros

Two road weary monarch butterflies stop in our yard to freeload off our Mexican sunflower. Apropos, since they are likely headed to Mexico.

Busy day. Hung out in the morning with The Harpies (I had to look up that word just to be sure of its meaning. The word "harpie" is from greek and literally means "that which snatches". Considering their propensity for wrenching objects from one another and causing general mayhem and crying, this then seems like an altogether apt reference.)

Spent the lion's share of the day working on the deck. I got a bit done. We have a step now, so there's no big step/little jump down to the ground. And I got part of the railing up too. Ah, sweet delicious progress.

After the girls' nap, we decided that the beach at Lake Nokomis needed a serious dosage of us, so we headed to the lake. Last trip there, we were squeezed for time and our leaving was not taken well by either of the kids. This time, we decided to go as long as they wanted. This worked out much better. After an hour and a half, they started to show some signs of fatigue (extra hugs, slightly shorter tempers, a handmade banner saying, "Mom. Dad. Enough. We're tired", etc.) and we packed up to not a single cry of protest.

The kids are doing lots of crazy things these days. For the record, here is a concise list of what our kids do that we like:

- Both of them scream "airplane!!!!" whenever one flies over the house.
- Lily knows to say "more" and do the sign when she wants something; however, she usually cries for at least 30 seconds first. It's hilarious when she cries and cries then stops and, in a perfectly normal, ridiculously cute voice says, "more?"
- Abby loves to say "up", "down", "on", "off", amongst many other words. Oddly enough, they both figured out "applesauce" today during dinnertime with no effort from us. We spend hours trying to teach them some words, and they pick up "applesauce" without even trying. Curious.
- Lily continues to run directly away from us in public.
- Oh, and Abby figured out the word "kiss". She doles out kisses with reckless abandon.
- Abby loves wearing shoes. She will often come at us with both of them, whining incessantly, begging to have them strapped onto her dogs.
- Both kids enjoy stealing from the other (see the harpie comments from earlier), but Lily does a fair bit of trying to give Abby things.
- They've learned to say, "Boooongg!" everytime the church bells toll from across the street. They learned that from Daddy.
- Both of them refuse to allow themselves to be videotaped. As soon as that thing comes out, they turn into zombies.
- Abby loves when I sing (she's the only one who likes my singing), and every time I finish a song she yells, "Yaaaay!"
- Lily is scared of the vacuum. Abby goes right for it.
- Lily has started bossing the pets around. This is not going to fly with the animals. She tells the dog "No!" all the time.
- Both kids love to say "No", actually. Come to think of it, I've never heard either of them say yes.
- They've started screaming things at the LeapFrog videos.
- Lily loves to sit in our laps when we sit cross legged on the floor. She will normally stand a couple feet in front of us, then start backing up slowly.

I'm sure there are more, but it's getting late and it's hot as the sun with this laptop on my lap.

Day two hundred and ten.

Another look at the flutterbies

From our walk yesterday.

Coolest. Dad. Yet.