Eight Crazy Nates

(click to view full-size)

This photo was inspired by a few my cousin created last year. For reference, I also considered calling it "Eight Men Out," "Eight Is (More Than) Enough," or "Hot Damn, Feet Freeze Fast When You're Barefoot in the Snow." (I was barefoot for about two minutes at the end of the shoot, enough for four back-and-forth trips to the camera — three takes, followed by the retrieval of my equipment.)

This is just a hunch, but I suspect it's much easier to do this type of shot indoors, with fixed lighting and non-freezing temperatures. Though of course that way you don't get nearly the same sort of looks from the neighbors.

The final tally:
26 - degrees Fahrenheit (-3.3 degrees Celsius)
10 - hours before all pain subsided from my toes
9 - photographs layered into one
8 - Nates
7 - visible goatees
6 - pairs of pants
5 - hats
4 - shirts
3 - jackets
2 - sweatshirts
1 - pair of shorts
0 - footprints

Not Getting the Full Experience

This is my 300th post (fact). And since I haven't shared anything about my son in over a year (exaggeration) I thought I'd do that now to start the year off right. Not only is he the smartest kid ever to wear diapers (hyperbole) and a half-decent negotiator, but come February he'll be the youngest U.S. Senator in history (outright lie).

He just turned two-and-a-half, loves animals and books and letters and Muppets and is so well-behaved my cousin remarked that as parents we're "not getting the full experience." No, we're not. And it is awesome. Here are a few snippets from recent months:

Conversation at dinner between 2-year-olds (who had spent all day together):
Him: "Hey, you have a robot on your shirt."
His cousin: "I have pizza." (pause) "I have pizza."
~~~~~
Reading an alphabet book to himself:
"J is for juggling. J-U-G-G-L-I-N-G. Juggling.
K is for kite. K-I-T-E. Kite.
L is for drink. L-E-M-O-N-A-D-E. Drink."
~~~~~
At some point he found a 2-foot piece of string. Every once in a while, he'll pick it up, hold it between his hands, and twirl it while jumping non-stop from room to room. As he says, "I'm jumping rope."
~~~~~
Talking into a toy phone:
"Hi, Grampa. Are you too busy? Okay, bye bye."

Our house contains several burrows' worth of stuffed rabbits. One morning, my son dug through a couple dozen of them and found the only non-bunny in the basket — a small stuffed bison — and immediately claimed it as his own. They were inseparable for a week, including at bedtime, so it became the first thing he slept with. The following week he added a lion cub to the mix. The week after that, a dog. Then Cookie Monster. Now his bed also holds a rubber skeleton, a bookmark with clownfish on it, a long-expired glow stick, an alligator puppet with hard rubber teeth, a seal, a small plastic Oscar the Grouch, and a little striped cat from IKEA. Every night and naptime he confirms each item is still there, gathers them all under the blanket, and hugs them tight.

If you ask him, he'll say he loves our cats Penny and Schrödinger. But not our dog, Sonya. Last time he told us this we asked, "Why not? Sonya loves you." The tears started flowing, and he wailed, "I don't want to love Sonya!!!"
~~~~~
He finally knows to say "I don't know," meaning we've reached the end of his Yeah Phase. What was the Yeah Phase? Let me demonstrate:
"Do you know what this is?"
"Yeah."
"Okay, what is it?"
"Yeah."
"What is it?"
"Yeah."
~~~~~
He wanted a cookie. We'd told him repeatedly he needed to eat his dinner first. He responded with, "No. Cookie first, then dinner." This went on all meal, and he ate one solitary bite of pasta. After Denise had finished and stepped into the kitchen, he handed me his plate and said, "Here. You eat it. I get a cookie." I tell you, the kid is quick. I didn't learn that gambit till I was six.

I often have his stuffed animals and puppets talk to him. Then one night, with a puppet in his hand, he asked me to read him his book. I pulled out the book with his picture on the cover (and photos of our family inside), but he said, "No, my book." He repeated this over and over, getting more and more agitated, until I finally realized he was speaking as the puppet (who has no mouth) and asking for its book. Namely, Where the Wild Things Are.

Now he regularly talks for his animals/puppets and has conversations with them. He even has a designated puppet voice, lower and more gravelly than his own.¹ And he uses his mittens as puppets.² Or, if he has no puppet or mittens, he simply talks with his hands.

¹ He's Batman.
² Lately, his left mitten is a shark, his right one a train. Because of this.

~~~~~

Well, that's my son. Click on any of the above photos to see them larger. Or, if you're inclined, you can view all of his latest photos on Flickr.

Have Yourself a Very Little Christmas

I have now celebrated the Coming of Claus for six years (going on seven). I've had my macro lens¹ for the past three.

I figure, most people focus on the big things at Christmas — the giant tree, huge gifts, a jumbo ham or turkey — but we shouldn't forget the little things that make the holiday what it is.

So, to get everyone primed for Santa's Glorious Gift-Giving Extravaganza™, here's a selection of ornaments and decorations I've photographed from mere inches away. The smallest of the bunch (i.e. the pink bunny slippers) are only ¼" high, and most only show 1-2" max.

You can click on an image to embiggen. Or if you're interested, you can view the entire Flickr set (44 photos).

¹ A macro lens allows you to take pictures from reeeeeally close up. You can capture very fine detail on very small things. Unless those very small things are part of larger things that want to lick you, claw you, or push the camera button. Then it becomes significantly more difficult. (Also wet, bloody, or whiny).

...He's Going to Ask for Some Sour Cream

Clearly, I've done such a good a job in my past three Jew & A sessions, all your Judaism questions have already been answered. I'm sure that's why, after 15 questions last year, I only got 2 this time around. Surely that's it. It can't have anything to do with my lack of posts this past year, which has caused my readers to go the way of the dodo.*

Anyway, because questions were in short order, I've cooked up a few of my own. Don't worry; they're Kosher.**

* They've all become animated sea captains.
** I wish. Apparently, tying up a rabbi and forcing him to oversee how the questions were made does not guarantee a Kosher label. All it guarantees is that G.I. Jews will break down your door and accuse you of rabbi-napping.

Alex J. Cavanaugh asks:
Have you ever visited Israel?

Yes.

Oh, you want me to expand on that? Very well. When I was 14,* my family traveled to Israel to sight-see and visit relatives. Our van broke down in the middle of the desert, I got the worst sunburn of my life after swimming in the Mediterranean Sea for five hours, and my mother was finally unmasked as the charlatan we all knew her to be.

Oh, you want me to expand on that? Very well. We were in Old Jerusalem, and my mom took a couple photos of the Dome of the Rock. As soon as she did, a man ran over and chastised her for taking pictures of the Muslim women in front of the building. She said she was just taking pictures of the mosque, but he was not fooled so easily. "LIAR WOMAN!" he yelled, loudly and repeatedly. "You are a LIAR WOMAN!"

We'd assumed as much ever since she'd claimed she wasn't the Tooth Fairy, but finally we had proof.
*In other words, still a Jewvenile.

Li asks:
Why is it sometimes spelled Hanukkah, sometimes Chanukah? Which one is correct?

I already answered this question in my Hanukkah primer, but of course I was lying. (I am, after all, my mother's son.) Here's the real truth...

Each of the eight days has its own spelling. Let me break it down for you:
Day 1: Hanukkah
Day 2: Chanukah
Day 3: Hannuka
Day 4: Channukka Shmannukka
Day 5: Hanuqqah
Day 6: KHAAAAAANukkah
Day 7: Hanukkah II: Dreidel's Revenge
Day 8: Bob

The Guy Who Writes This Blog asks:
If you could bring any Jew from history back to life to talk to, whom would it be?

My uncle Morty.

Nah, I'm kidding. I may be Jew-ish, but I don't have an Uncle Morty.

Jesus. This is a tough one... but I'm still going with Jesus. I've always been curious how much of what we've heard really happened, and how much was just drunken ramblings by a bunch of monkeys on typewriters 400 years later.* Plus, that turning-water-to-wine trick would finally make my whinery a success.**

But really, after I bring him back to life (during a lightning storm, of course), I just want to teach Jesus to perform a wailing "Puttin' on the Ritz." It would be sacrilegiously hilarious.
* "Monkeys" is, of course, long for "monks." And "on typewriters" is merely the modern translation for "with quills on parchment."
** What? It is too called a whinery. We're Jews. We whine. For reference, our beverages are made from the fermented tears of grapes who are distraught over the thought of their daughters marrying outside their genus. ("What about that nice Welch boy from down the street? Oy, you make your mother worry.")

The Man Behind The Wheel asks:
What Jew talkin' 'bout, Wilson?

Jew talkin' 'bout how amazing Thanksgivukkah was: We thought there would only be enough turkey for one meal, but the leftovers lasted eight whole days! Based on that success, we're figuring out which holiday hybrid to create next year. In the running so far are Arborukkah (planting trees for 8 days), St. Patrikkah (everyone gets sloshed for a week), and Lentukkah (you give up something for 40 days, but get a gift each day as a reward).

Of course, that last one would require one hell of a menorah.

And finally, Uncle Nate (Wholly Unsubstantiated) asks:
What's your favorite part of the Torah?

You know, I've always liked that part at the end.

Well, that'll do it for this session of Jew & A. I hope you all had a wonderful Bob, and we'll see you again next year!

If You Give a Jew a Latke

This year, Hanukkah starts the night before Thanksgiving.¹ Why is it so early? I'm glad you have an inquisitive mind, dear goyim and girlem, since it's time for my 4th annual Jew & A! And you know what that means...

I will answer any question you have about Judaism.

It's that simple. Just post any questions you might have about Jews or Judaism in the comments section before the end of Hanukkah (sundown on 12/5), and I will answer them for you.

Perhaps you've always wondered why so many Jews' names end in "berg" or "stein." Maybe you want to know Moses' thoughts on gay marriage. Or maybe you're simply hoping to find a good local deli. Whatever your query, send it my way. Even if it's been asked before, don't let that stop you — like the Jewish calendar, the answers to such questions are in constant flux.

So, what do you want to know?


Past Jew & A's:

• Uncle Nate's Wholly Unsubstantiated Hanukkah Primer
• One Crazy Guy Explains Eight Crazy Nights
• Your Chosen Questions About the Chosen People
• Judaism's Deepest Secrets Revealed

¹ That's the American Thanksgiving. Canadians celebrated theirs last month, because they're always one step ahead of us on things like holidays and healthcare.

Don't Do the Rhyme If You Can't Do the Meter

National Novel Rhyming Month (NaNoRhyMo) is back for the fifth straight year! And by "fifth straight" I mean I skipped last year so it only happened in my head but that still counts.

Just like every year, I'll be handling this one a little differently. Instead of manipulating existing rhymes to describe novels (my favorites are probably still It (Fresh Prince) and Hunger Games (Take Me Out to the Ball Game)) or creating new rhymes for novels' titles, this year I'm going even more basic.

This year, I'm rhyming NaNoRhyMo itself:

If you're a writer who is at all rational,
Of course you'll fashion all words and your passion will
Help you to catch and haul phrases, then cash in all
Of them to gain some great fame international.
That is the hope as you live in your hovel
And craft divine sentences while you still grovel
To agents and editors, hoping they'll gobble
Up every last word, since success would be novel.
You're tired of all of this nickel-and-diming;
Your writing's superb, what you need now is timing.
Just one little nibble and then you'll be climbing
Up out of the slush. (Okay, now I'm done rhyming.
No, really. I mean it. I'm finished. I'm dunth.
I know that pretending to be Seuss is funth,
But whether your first try or your trilli-onth,
There is no good word or phrase that rhymes with month.)

Happy NaNoRhyMo, everyone!


Past NaNos:

• NaNoRhyMo 2011 (National Novel Rhyming Month)
• NaNoRhyMo 2010
• NaNoRhyMo 2009
• NaNoRyeMo (National No Rye Month)
• NanoRhino (Microscopic Rhino)

What You're Saying When You Talk Like a Pirate

It's that time again: International Talk Like a Pirate Day! In past years, I've helped you with the how. How to talk like a Jewish pirate, like numerous international pirates, and like assorted other pirates. There's not much more to cover on that front, so this year I'm skipping the how and giving you the what.

When you say the stereotypical pirate phrases, what are you actually saying? The phrases are old, and language gets muddied over time. Meanings get muddled, pronunciation mottled, and things stray a bit from their original intention.

I've done extensive research into pirate historic linguistic patterns (all without leaving my brain) and here's what I've found.

Avast, me hearties!
This is pirates being deep. In essence, it means "the world is a vast place, my friends." And of course, "hearties" comes from the fact that all pirates had those MOM heart tattoos.

Shiver me timbers!
The "er" in shiver is actually a corruption of "arrgh," which pirates were always interjecting into everything. Thus, that leaves us with "shiv" (a makeshift knife) and "me timbers" (my peg leg). It is akin to a challenge to other pirates. As in, "Go ahead, just try to stab my wooden leg."

Ya scurvy dogs!
This one just shows how mumbling and poor grammar can lead to misinterpretation. It's not "ya scurvy" but "you's curvy." And "You's curvy dogs" is roughly comparable to "You're sexy bitches." Just one of the many things a pirate captain would say to try to keep the crew's confidence up on those dreary long voyages at sea.

Walk the plank!
Um... yeah. This one's pretty much what you think.

Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum!
An easy one. It's a call to the ship's first mate — on most vessels, the first mate was affectionately referred to as Yolanda, or Yo for short — to bring the captain another delicious Ho Ho and the aforementioned bottle of rum.


And there you have it. Now instead of going around today spouting these sayings in stereotypical fashion, you can sound like you really know what you're talking about.

Yarrrr welcome.