Commander Christian

So here's a story as imagined by Christian. Commander Cody played by Christian. Princess Amidala - Erika. Photos - Yours Truly.



Alone, Commander Cody is dropped off by a troop transport and attacks Ziro the Hutt's lair. It is his mission, and his mission alone to save Princess Amidala from Ziro's clutches. Out numbered 10 to 1 by battle droids, Cody jumps from building to building picking them off one by one.

Having dispatched the tenth battle droid, he moves toward Ziro's lair. He is cautious, taking cover where he can find it, surveying the landscape in front of him for more battle droids. He hears the air move above him and sees a surveillance droid almost directly overhead. He turns and shoots it square in the center, likely disabling all of its comm links. Did he fire before the droid transmitted his position? He could not wait to find out.



Cody runs inside the lair and finds Amidala sinking into Ziro's private quicksand pond. "Behind you!" Amidala screams. He turns to see Ziro bearing down on him with his blaster. Cody spins. They both shoot. Ziro is struck in the midsection while Cody's thigh suffers a glancing blow. Ziro shrieks and ducts away. Cody is hurt but focuses. He pulls Amidala to safety while scanning the door. Is Ziro dead? Or is he merely lying in wait? He looks out the window and sees the coward Ziro speeding away.



Satisfied with his rescue of Amidala, he surveys the landscape from atop the lair. A transport has just arrived. He is tired and needs a rest, but he cannot stay. If the surveillance droid pegged him, then more battle droids would be arriving shortly. He must move Amidala before they arrive. He boards the transport and stands near the large door. The sun is setting. He hopes he never has to return to Ziro's lair again.

No Really, It Was A Happy Birthday!

Our good friend Scott celebrated another year's passing last Friday with some good sushi, some extra olives, and some terrific company (me).

The Most Incredibly Likelike Baby Monkey Eh-Verrrrr!

Under the stimulus plan Americans are expected to receive a whopping $30.00 reduction in their payroll taxes each month. What will you do with your windfall? Might I suggest stimulating the Ashton-Drake Galleries' economy by purchasing a "Little Umi" of your own? Yes, for just $27.99 for the next five months this precious gem can be yours. The manufacturer promises "you'll want to cuddle and nurture [her] the moment you see her" gair-ohn-teeed.

Heather has a knack for finding odd things in plain sight. I clip the coupons each week and this precious doll just slipped right past my radar. Yes, I love clipping and using coupons. I'm always trying to beat my personal best - saving 60 bucks on a 100 dollar food bill. Concerned that I had missed a $1.00 off Pampers' Swaddlers coupon, Heather perused the paper again and found Little Umi. Between the latest offering from the Franklin Mint and a super deal on Calcutta Cloth slacks lay this "masterpiece of amazing realism."

I love the finger-wagging in the fine print - "This baby orangutan is not a toy; she is a fine collectible to be enjoyed by adult collectors" - as if an inspector from Ashton-Drake will visit your home to make certain you're not playing house with this vinyl monkey.

Monkeys not your thing? Then might I suggest Ashton-Drakes' collectible alien babies. Think I'm kidding?
http://www.collectiblestoday.com/ct/product/prdid-301281001.jsp?RecentlyViewed
I kid you not.

Nausea - Now In IMAX

Yesterday we took the kids to the Reuben H. Fleet Science Center. The kids loved the "Tinkering Exhibit" which allows hords of children to leave sticky fingerprints on do-it-yourself science experiments. Christian loved the powered-paper-plane-launcher which was both shiny and gooey from all the young boys handling it. Christian made a classic paper plane with a pointed end and proceeded to launch it right into Erika's face. She laughed and ran out of target range. Erika giggled with delight at the beach ball floating on a cushion of air until a boy took the ball and began a soccer match with his older brother. And Juliet mostly ate and slept.

While waiting in line for IMAX's Wild Ocean to begin, I struck up a conversation with an off-duty mall Santa. Yep, white beard, spectacles, and a red shirt. He explained the difficulties of working the malls, and how he preferred to do private parties. I actually thought he might be angling for some business but Christmas is still, let's see, 10 months away. I whispered to Chris Kringle that Christian received Legos for Christmas. He leaned over to Christian and said, "Don't tell anyone, but I'm on vacation. Did you like the Legos I brought you?" Christian, suddenly wide-eyed and shy, said, "Yes, I got them" and slinked away from Santa's greatness never taking his eye off him.

San Diego's IMAX is the dome-type which completely envelopes your view. We found good seats next to the projector in the middle of the dome however an usher told Heather that she would have to sit down front if she was going to hold the baby. Off she went. I spent the next 30 minutes monitoring Christian and Erika to make certain they weren't kicking the chairs in front of them. They were constantly fidgeting, changing positions, and scanning the dome as dolphins, seals and sharks swam by. It was, well, maybe a little too realistic. Suddenly, my eye detected a sudden stillness to my left. Two seats over laid Erika on her back, saucer-eyed and still. Her arms and hands formed a bowl over her chest and tummy and her pink sweater wasn't pink any longer. I leaned over to Christian and said, "Don't move" and I whisked Erika out of the theater.

I rushed into the restroom with Erika. Actually, it was the lady's room. Oops. I politely excused myself and then cleaned Erika up in the men's room as best I could. The pink sweater was a complete loss so I ditched it. Two minutes later I went back to drag Christian out of the theater. There were only a few minutes left. A crack cleaning crew was waiting at the door with their cleaning kits at the ready. They were old pros at handling seasickness. I felt like I was going through a triage as they asked "Sir, where is it, aisle or seat? Large or small? Will people step in it? Shall we go now or after the crowd has left?" After the debriefing I went inside and motioned Christian to come with me. The movie was nearly over. We went straight to the car, stripped Erika, buckled her into her seat and turned up the heater. Heather called soonafter with a "Where are you?" I didn't tell her what happened. "Just meet me at the car." I thought I would surprise her with the smell as she opened the car door. Surprise!

PS - Erika's stitches from her accident last week have been removed. As shown in the picture above, she has a bit of surgical tape on her forehead. She's healing very well.

Valentorino

Heather and I spent Valentine's Day watching an old racist wax his vintage muscle car. Yes, we saw Clint Eastwood's Gran Torino. Apparently, by the size of the audience, a lot of couples thought watching GT was a good way to spend a romantic evening. Actually, we celebrate both of our birthdays and Valentine's Day between February 8 and 14th and by the time Valentine's arrives our constant expressions of love and appreciation begin to fall on numb ears.

I love movies. I love talking about movies. But I've resisted writing about movies because let's face it, no one really wants to read what I think about movies. That ends today. Clint Eastwood is one of the finest, limited range, one-note actors in American history. He's not alone either. Many actors strike the same note over and over again with great appeal. Ever watch a Cary Grant movie? Clint's movies are usually good (not great) but after watching GT, I'm recategorizing some of his past work as mediocre. The use of the same plot devices and delivery are becoming a little hackneyed.

Our post-movie wrap-up (the ride home) was spent criticizing the movie rather than philosophizing about its content. GTs greatest flaw is in the casting. Heather accurately described the supporting actor's ("Toad") performance as "worse than community theater." There was an almost audible clunk as Toad's lines came out of his mouth and hit the floor. I speculate that Clint and his crew have bought the hype that surrounds his movies so much so that they said "Nah, we don't need to review the dailies this time."

If you want to see a good movie, see Doubt. My fears that it would be anti-Catholic or a gutwrenching tale about child molestation never materialized. Instead, it was a perfect script, with perfect performances, perfect staging, and perfect photography. It also led to many interesting discussions about compassion vs. the rule of law, the importance of faith, and the importance of doubt. Yes, doubt is very important - you have five minutes to discuss amongst yourselves.

Nelson Baby Photos For Sale

Star Magazine? US Weekly? Parade? Here's a sample photo of 3 month old Juliet. The rest of the roll can be yours for a mere 1.5 mill. How is Juliet doing you ask? If you love babies who eat, spit up, and giggle then keep reading. Juliet eats, spits up and giggles, and we love it!

Human Tailoring

Upon leaving an asylum interview Friday in Anaheim I received two matter-of-fact but slightly panicked voicemails from Heather - "I’ve been called to the preschool because Erika split her head open" and "We’re at the emergency room now, call me." I called and Heather explained that the doctor had just stitched an inch long cut on Erika’s forehead. Mind you, I had just spent several hours presenting medical evidence to prove that the visible scarring on my third world client’s forehead was caused by a persecutor’s rifle butt. I imagined Erika as a young adult having to explain her scar in social settings, "This one? Oh yeah, preschool playground." That’s okay for a boy. I expect our boy to sit around with his buddies and compare scars, but Erika? Not so much.

I worried that a recent med school grad (who’s only experience with suturing was watching Rambo; First Blood) had mistaken dental floss with #00 sutures and stitched my daughter’s forehead with all the care of Dr. Frankenstein. I said, "Take her to a plastic surgeon." Heather’s brief silence said, "How do I find a plastic surgeon at 4:30 on a Friday afternoon?" But, as usual, Heather makes things happen and within minutes she called back to report she had found one. Fortunately, the plastic surgeon was impressed with the stitchery and gave Heather some tips on how to keep the scar from turning into "train tracks."

I finally made it home through the rain soaked SoCal traffic. I ached to comfort a sulking little girl. I opened the front door and Erika stuck a sticky, heart-shaped lollipop in my face and grinned with cherry-stained teeth. She was oblivious to the large flesh colored bandage on her forehead. The blue sutures protuded slightly above and below the bandage. Finding no reason to ruin her good mood, I ignored the stitches and just asked her how she was doing. She looked at her sticky fingers, grinned again, and ran off.

Erika hasn’t complained a bit. She’s as happy as she's ever been. Today I peeled back the bandage to reveal the blue sutures. I expected to see the finest tailoring but sutures are never pretty. Erika looked in the mirror. Then she smiled and raised her eyebrows as if to say, "Like my new threads?"

UPDATE: Heather was not as amused by the Frankenstein photo. Here's the real "after."

Feeling Orange, Feeling Blue

Here are some recent random Polaroids. Nothing spectacular. The orange photos were taken one minute before sunset, the blue photo taken one minute after. The sun sets quickly where we live. There are no trees or homes to obstruct our view, just the hard line of Point Loma's peninsula spread before our windows. I like observing the contrast in light just before and after a sunset. The warm, citrus light which illuminates every West-facing surface suddenly disappears into a blue dreamy calm. The B&W on the bottom is from Sofia Rose's baptism at Mary, Star of the Sea Catholic Church in La Jolla last week.

ArtNet Keeps Calling

How many times must I say my children's art is not for sale before the Getty, Gugenheim, Norton Simon and the Thomas Kinkade Galleries stop calling? Rather than restrict their enlightening and sometimes controversial pieces to the confines of a museum, we have opted to share their work with the unwashed masses through this blog. Erika's latest maestroverk entitled "Juliet; A Study in Contrasts No. 1" (abstract; medium - Hammermill 20 lb white and Crayola brand ink) evokes the anguish of middle surbubia and its relationship with the shaping of every infant's id.

Christian's "Indeanu Jon's" (photorealism; medium - Dunder Mifflin 24 lb cardstock and non-toxic Marks-A-Lot ink) implores the viewer to examine Hollywood's evolution of the 2 hour analog celluloid adventure into today's never ending 64 bit, self-involving digital gameplay.

If you dismiss these pieces as merely the musings of children, then let me speak to you in your own vernacular - "ya jus' don't git it and never you mind tryin." For the rest of you, send your donations to Erika and Christian's business manager (have you seen the price of paper lately?)