Bbbbrrring. Cackawww! Booooooooooooooop. Hoooooonk. (these are the sounds of canal park. the second one is a seagull)

I took just under 2,000 photos today, but I am in holiday mode and I plum forgot about the blog all day until now, and it's 11:30. Sorry, no photos until tomorrow.

This morning we headed down to canal park. I'm long overdue to drop my backpack at the Duluth Pack store for a zipper fix, so we brought the kids and hung out with them and Grandma and Grandpa. Our timing was perfect for shipping-related sightseeing; right when we got there, the bell sounded and the bridge lifted up into a very foggy sky to let the Tregurtha out. It went back down for only 15 minutes before going up again to let the Presque Isle loose into the great lakes.

The fog was very funky, and seeing the ships all dark and looming lumber out of the bay was kinda unique, even for us Duluth natives. Of course, the kids seemed not to notice much, what with all the seagulls and rocks as distractions.

We tried swimming with the girls post afternoon nap, but whereas the water was rather pleasant when I dove in at 1, it was rather chilly by the time 4:30 rolled around. So they weren't having it. Play time was substituted nicely.

Marj made a fantastic dinner as always. Afterwards, Jen beat me soundly and honorably at Scrabble.

Photos tomorrow, I swear.

Day two hundred and two.

Shortcuts.

It shall be lame tonight, as we just got to Duluth, it's 10:30, and I'm ill equipped to do a proper entry.

The drive was a breeze and the girls were palatable the whole trip through. Their good natured outlook on road trips comes no doubt from the fact that they've had to endure a 13 hour marathon from Cincinnati. Even they seem aware that heading up to the Stalker's is like going out for milk.

So, let's talk traffic for a bit. On an average weekend, heading up at 5 or 6 on Friday will net you some frustrating time in traffic. This is absolutely guaranteed where 35s E and W come together, and will continue sporadically up through North Branch and possibly Pine City. Today is the start of Labor Day, which means the roads should have been absolutely gagging on a constant stream of cars and boats pouring northward.

Had we taken 35, it would surely have been like that.

Instead we took the 61 route. I can't complain, we still made good time. But on 3 different occassions we had the opportunity to see 35. What did we see? Traffic moving near the speed of sound. I honestly, seriously (and I know traffic is the dullest possible topic in the world) do not understand this. There should have been 1.4 million cars on the road, but it looked like 4 am on a Tuesday.

Fed up, we headed back to the interstate at North Branch. It's hard to see the highway from the entrance ramp, until you make the turn. Imagine my complete non-surprise when I started down the entrance to find traffic at an utter stop.

I'm going to stop trying to second guess life and just go with the flow.

Day two hundred and one.

Walking Papers 2: Revenge of the Walkers

Jammie time.

Our wee walker.

Abby has turned the corner on the walking bit. Whereas just a few days ago she could do maybe 5 or 6 steps between us, she's now actively and eagerly standing up and walking around. She went back and forth from me to the blue chest on 5 round trips all by herself; you can see it in the photo above, about 10 feet away. She's walking around by herself. She's getting up with no help from any objects. She's considering cartwheels (I can see it in her eyes).

When Lily learned to walk, I couldn't have thought I could be happier. I think that still holds true; I'm not happier, per se, for Abby. But the happiness comes with this enormous relief, a huge weight lifting that kinda makes it a unique and slightly better experience. Every milestone Abby hits, we don't know if it'll be her last. Parents of regular kids do not know this uncertainty, and it's hard to convey in words. She learned to crawl, but it's possible that might be it. She is so slow sometimes to pick up on things.

But she is also steadfastly determined, so, while we never were guaranteed she would walk, we also never really doubted it either. Like most things we get to deal with, it makes no sense.

Day two hundred.

Pregame. Take a knee, buddy.

Lily v. Door

Bonus video! Well, it's not the best, since I took it on our little purple Polaroid, and it has no sound. But it features Abby giving me a couple kisses (the first one looks like she just tripped into my face, but the second one was very deliberate!), her walking a bit, and an extreme closeup of Lily.

(ed.: I stand corrected by whoever commented, apparently this video does have sound. Apparently I was bested by a volume knob. Having, then, not previewed the sound portion, I apologize if anything inappropriate is said or if I farted.)

Karl....kiss the glass.

This might be one of my new favorite photos ever. I love that she did this to me in the first place. Then, when I got the camera to find she'd put her pacifier back in her mouth, I kissed the glass and she did it again on request.

But what makes it a very cool shot (and this was totally unintentional) is that, if you look closely, her pupils are actually totally obscured by the reflection from the glass. What appears to be her pupils is actually my profile against the outside behind me. Kinda sweet.

So yeah, I did a sleep study last night. This came about because I have been absolutely exhausted for the last 8 months. Even if I get a good night's sleep, I wake up to feel like I've been hit by the light rail. It's not good. If it didn't come on so fast, I would just chalk it up to old age. Maybe it is old age. I am getting old; why would it not happen quickly?

The other option might be that I have sleep apnea, since Jen has witnessed me stop breathing during the night on many instances. Plus my dad has it. Plus I grind my teeth at night. I could go on.

The study went well, except that I had a bear of a time actually slipping into lala land. I read for a while, and the nurse technician had the bright idea to tell me that, "...we need you to fall asleep soon to get a good study." Perfect. As anyone can tell you, there's no better way to get someone to fall asleep than by commanding them.

Thanks to the circumstances and roughly 1,300 wires I had hooked up to my body, I didn't sleep too tightly. Today, I'm damn tired.

Jen did a lot with the girls today. I'll speak for her, I have no problem with that. They met friend Jess and her daughter Avery for story time somewhere around Har Mar. I remember this well, as Jen had to call me at work from the road to ask: "Where the hell is Har Mar?" I had to look it up.

After I got home, we walked the kids to the park and hit the playground for a bit. This was a good thing. The slide, the swings, the sand...all major hits. Leaving the playground was the poison pill that almost undid all the good. Granted it was kind of a short trip, but they were not on board the leaving train.

This is the trouble with everything good; it always ends. It's a hallmark of parenting (or at least my bastardized version of it) that I am already planning on how to terminate something good before it is even begun. Maybe that's too negative a thought process. Maybe it's just pragmatic.

Day one hundred and ninety nine.

Yaaay!

Whoopitydoo!

Gaah?

Night Night. Night Night. Night Night.

Dave's dad, or Papa as he is known to the grand kids, recently showed the girls how to use his legs as a slide. Abby thought it was okay, but Lily thinks it is the most fun ever. At her current rate of sliding, Papa's legs will be bald before October.

Dave isn't here, he's busy having doctors watch him sleep tonight. So it's another night of the mom's perspective on what was a pretty ordinary day.

I brought the girls to the little courtyard at the church across the street this morning. Abby practiced walking (still clutching to my hands, but moving much faster). Lily practiced not listening (she's a pro). Realizing that there will come a time when I will need her to pay attention to what I'm saying, I attempted to play a game of "Go" and "Stop". Lily got the "Go" and ran around and around chanting it. "Stop" was another thing altogether. This girl is going to be a challenge.

Papa came to babysit when I went to school for a couple hours today. Dave's brother Steve and his kids came over too (plus one extra that he was watching). Steve must be an amazing storyteller because he had five children captivated while he was reading to them when I got home. I've never seen my kids both sit still for the same story at the same time before--it's nice to know it's possible.

The beautiful part of everyone being here while I was gone was that the kids didn't nap until I got back. I hate being gone during their nap. Nap time is when I clean up, eat something, make necessary calls, and sometimes even relax. For me, missing out on nap time is the equivalent of working on the weekend. If you're a parent, you know what I'm talking about.

Lily read "Goodnight Gorilla" to us before bed tonight. It went like this, "Nigh Nigh. Nigh Nigh. aargusha ya frapicha Nigh Nigh. Nigh Nigh. Nigh Nigh." Abby joined in too. A chorus of night nights. And on that note...night night.

Day one hundred and ninety eight.

Three yahoos. Meow.

Oh that face. I can't say no to that face.

Art by daughters (mommy might have helped)

Horses do not use pacifiers. Good to know.

Oh how the lowly cucumber has been hoisted to such lofty heights.

I shared with Jen a couple weeks ago - as the fetid smell of horse feces started to waft over from St. Paul and local news celebrities began trotting out the usual corn dog references - my utter lack of interest in going to the fair this year.

"But the kids can see the animals! They can touch the animals! They can taste the animals!" Truer words have never been spoken, and yet I was still unmoved. The cost concerned me. The cost tends to spiral to unpredictable realms at the fair, leaving me with the yearly idea that someone could make a killing by opening a restaurant that sells only fair food, doesn't charge $11 to get in the door, and makes at least a passing attempt at scraping the cow poop off your booth.

When Chris and Emily were awesome enough to offer a couple free passes to breach the gates of Minnesota's Big Ol' Get Together, my argument had lost its edge. So off we went today...fairbound.

The bus ride was a smash. We parked in the U lot, and were astonished to find ourselves picked up in a fancy dancy Greyhound-style lounge machine. Before we even boarded, multiple drivers were curbside helping us load the stroller in the belly of the great fairbusbeast.

Easily the greatest benefit of this style of bus is the fantastic visibility it affords all passengers in general, and 19 month olds specifically. They enjoyed that, standing on our lap and looking at the world go by ("Look girls! St. Paul! It's so different!"). Is the safest bus riding method for a toddler having her stand on your lap? No. No it isn't.

Once at the fair and inside, Lily began laying the groundwork for what would end up being an afternoon of solid crankiness. In all, it could have gone a lot worse; but she seems to be running a small fever, and because of that she was very determined and ornery.

First stop was the MPR booth. I wanted to show Mary Lucia to the girls, since they used to (and will again starting next week) listen to her show during the daily slog home from day care. We arrived to find a lot of people milling about and a live act strumming some tunes. 'Crap,' I thought to myself, 'this sounds a lot like Halloween, Alaska.' So I asked the girl next to me. "Halloween, Alaska," she said. Amazing luck, I didn't even look to see who'd be playing, and here it was one of my favorite bands. We stuck it out for a few songs, then took off, never having had the chance to point Mary out to the girls.

After a little time dodging rednecks and hipsters alike, our foody scorecard tallied thusly:

- 1 batch fried pickles (Jen was jonesin' for these, which were sold in the most deviously unforgiving place to bring a doublewide stroller - the food "tent". Luckily, they were actually worth the headache. Pretty damn good.)

- 1 serving corn fritters. (also good, a little dry but with the honey butter they were perfect. And corny.)

- 2 pronto pups. (kind of a cliche, but they sounded good. They were okay.)

- 1 glass chocolate milk (for the girls)

- 1 vanilla shake

Pretty puritanistic, really, compared with previous years' gluttony. We certainly didn't seek out the more enigmatic and interesting in foodstuffs.

I wish we'd gotten a picture of it, but we eventually had to let Lily run around. Jen got her a little backpack today that has a clip-on leash, which we put on her. For the most part, she was kinda okay with it and it did a good job. But being on edge means not dealing well at all with demands of your parents, so when we had to carry her or made her hold our hand (which she loathes), it got very ugly very fast.

At the end, we made it at long last to the animals. First the horse barn. We went in, found a horse stall complete with horse (sometimes you can be hardpressed to find the titular animal in these barns), and held the girls up to the bars for a good long look. Lily was amazed...so much so that she opened her mouth and let her pacifier drop into the hay. "Oh crap," Jen said. "For the love of god," I said. "Neigh," said the horse.

I was primarily concerned with the welfare of this enormous and undoubtedly very, very expensive beast. I trotted over to the two ladies who appeared competent in horsery, found that it was indeed their horse, and pleaded my case. I pointed out that it was a rather humorous thing, but I don't think they saw it quite that way. They were okay about it, but you could tell they thought we were city-fied d-bags.

I wanted so badly for that horse to bring his head up and have that pacifier in his mouth. It never happened.

Next up was the cows. They were nonplussed with the cows. How this is possible, I have no idea, because every time I see a cow I almost shit myself because I forget how gargantuan and bony and impressive they are.

I should mention that they both did the appropriate animal noise for every animal we saw. "Mooo!" "Baaa!" "Eeeee!" (That last one is a monkey. They're geniuses, our girls.)

The sheep went well. They seemed moderately interested in the shearing, and they both enjoyed petting them, which they did respectfully and gently. We were kneeling by a sheep at one point, and the thing let out a bleat that made me jump out of my pants (those guys can be loud), but neither one of the kids was very upset about it. Like their indifference to cows, I found this strange. It's like my kids have loads of farmhand experience that I'm not privvy to.

I want to note, for posterity (and to climb on my "twins are hard" soapbox), that I had in my mind to take some cool pictures of the girls at their first fair. Maybe a shot by the big fair sign, a bunch with the animals, etc. It's just nearly impossible to do this. Lily is poised at every moment to sprint away from us and into whatever danger exists nearby, and Abby is equally poised to jam something toxic into her mouth and crawl into some situation just as dangerous as her sister's. It just doesn't work sometimes. People who've only had one kid at a time, you just don't know how good you've got (or had) it.

Day one hundred and ninety seven.

I did, of course, have time to climb a bench and get a shot of Halloween Alaska. From what I could tell, Dave King is playing drums on a hot plate. It sounded amazing.

Cure for crying = 13 cheese poofs in your piehole. Thanks, Dr. Spock.

Back at home, Abby makes a point in her argument.

We are parents once more

Unfortunately, I spent tonight's prime blogging time trying to wrest my internet connection back from whatever computery hobgoblin stole it. I think - and to admit this is to admit a staggering level of stupidity on my part - it might have just been a loose connection on the ethernet cable going into the computer. I feel like one of those people that IT departments joke about between ComiCon conventions.

So, I'll recap the day in brief. I slept away most of the morning, which turned out to be very necessary. As for my slight drunkeness on Saturday, I lay almost all the heavy blame on Klocker and Phil, two flask-bearing coworkers who are far too young to understand what tequila and vodka do to a 33 year old.

After breakfast, we headed up north to Hinckley in order to wrest control of the girls from Jen's parents. This drive was notable for a few really, really dull reasons that I'll mention anyway:

- We took Hwy 61 almost the whole way up, which is amazingly the first time I've driven that way. Some of those tiny towns I perpetually whiz through on 35 are actually somewhat interesting. Somewhat. By Minnesota standards.

- I got pulled over on that very Hwy 61 for passing in a turning lane, which I really shouldn't have done since I saw the cop passing us, but I thought it was one of those passing lanes that you use to get around people turning left. It should have been, because who needs a right turn lane on a 55 mph highway? Anyway, she let us off, possibly because of my rather clean record, good breath, and super attitude about never using turn lanes for passing again. In the most utterly shameful part of my soul, before she'd let us off, I was desperately trying to formulate a way to work the miscarriage into conversation in a really, really (really) unforgivable ploy at getting some sympathy.

- We pulled off in Hinckley and called Neil at the top of the offramp. As it turned out, he was passing right in front of us after exiting, meaning we'd managed to get there within about 8 seconds of each other.

Dull, huh?

It's great to be basking once more in the lovely glow of our moron kids. They are so much bigger! Lily looks ready for college. Abby seems so much smarter. I feel like we missed out.

I have to say thank you, once more, to Jen's parents for taking the girls during this entire week. That was a monumental show of generosity and kindness, and I just can't say thanks enough. You guys are awesome.

Day one hundred and ninety six.

Here are some photos from the wedding on Saturday.

The Gels Boys Travelling Troubadors and Pool Cleaning

I'm a big fan of imperfect photography, especially when it involves interesting lighting. When it comes to the craptacular camera we got as a bonus at Sun Country (which was used for this shot), it is always imperfect photography.

I kind of think it's a sweet shot, since Jen's laughing and we're way high up in downtown, but then I almost look like I'm gnawing on her face, so minus 32 points for me.

More imperfection.

A non-sober entry for your consideration.

She's all business.

Cracker in a windstorm.

Alrighty right, let's blog, people. I have to say...I am not in my right mind, vis a vis my level of alcohol intake... Should i even be blogging right now? Do I have a choice?? No. 365 days of twins waits for no sobriety.

Strange day, in a very cool way. I slept way in, which was a super start. It's not even that I got to sleep in, it's that I got to wake up slooowly. I woke up totally naturally - no kids crying, no alarms, no surprises - and repositioned myself so that my head was square in the middle of a sun soaked part of the bedspread. That is a lovely feeling, isn't it, lying there in bed with sunlight pouring onto your face, after you've slept 9.5 hours? Pure delight. I miss the kids, of course, but that is quality time.

The morning, I worked in the yard. I kinda screwed myself for time, and went and had to go do a Powderhorn 365 photo in a very tight window, which kinda stressed me out to be honest. I biked 5 times around the park before I found a guy. I wasn't sure about asking him, I don't know why, I just wasn't sure, and then I asked him cold if I could take his picture, and sure as hell this guy was gangbusters for it. He went on and on and on about an enormous variety of film related subjects (he's from LA, and is in the industry) and it was one of those sublimely strange and awesome moments that reminds me how cool this project is. How many times do you (that's right, I'm talking to my audience) walk up to people and ask them to take their picture and give you their life story? It's hard as hell. It's intimidating. And I get so worked up and worried about it, so stressed, and then I go and do it and it inevitably (almost 100% of the time) ends up being this surreal and cool experience. As it was with Andre, a very lucid and palatable fellow who was quietly reading a book in the park today when I accosted him out of nowhere.

Tonight, Tobler's wedding downtown. Steve and I played some guitar type music for it, which went fairly well, I think. People told us we sounded good, and I'll have to believe them because it's hard to hear yourself when you play. I think the best praise I can give us is that we didn't bring the ceremony to a screeching halt...success!! And then there's the reception, which is why I'm rather unsober in the first place.

Now..off too bed.

Day one hundred and ninety fouriveish.