steve happens

2012-01-06T20:01:00.004-08:00

2011-06-29T21:45:00.000-07:00

Another year.

Quite frankly, I'm getting rather tired of this. Today Berlin celebrated her seventh birthday. That should be fine and dandy right? Well the problem is, she made me a promise, swore to me, when she turned four that she would stop growing. She looked me right in the eye and promised me that she'd stay four forever. So she could always be my little girl.

Well, clearly I got hoodwinked.

2011-05-31T09:48:00.000-07:00

Bolder Boulder 2011.

Yes, it's that time of year again. The time of year when Hailey guilts me into running the annual Bolder Boulder 10k with her. This year, to prove that I actually did it, I strapped a camera to my chest that took a picture every five seconds. The footage proves a couple interesting things. 1. Yes, I actually passed a few people. 2. I had to jump over a few piles of puke. 3. I rewarded myself with a very healthy breakfast afterward.

(Note: I edited out the porta potty trip. You're welcome.)

2011-04-21T05:37:00.000-07:00

Dear Graham,

Hey little chunk. Today is your first birthday. I wanted to let you know just how special you are to our family. Your calm demeanor and big toothy grin have blessed us in ways you'll never know. You have an overprotective older brother and a sister who thinks she's really your mother. I know it can feel like you're being smothered, but it's just because they really love you.

We got you some gifts. Jamison has already opened most of them. Berlin got you a cake. Everyone is excited to have your party this afternoon. You'll have no clue what's going on. But it won't matter, because you'll just be laughing and smiling like you always do. Graham, we will forever be grateful that you joined our family. Happy Birthday dude.

2011-02-17T16:43:00.001-08:00

A year of my life.

As told through the lens of my camera phone.

2010-12-02T09:55:00.004-08:00

Happy Holidays.

2010-11-23T20:06:00.000-08:00

Here's a little teaser.

Been working on a new little side venture in the children's book industry.

Check out hookiebook.com and sign up. Tell your friends.

2010-09-19T21:29:00.001-07:00

What happens when Dad doesn't have to work the weekend?

A Sunday Walk from Steve Babcock on Vimeo.

2010-09-13T14:54:00.000-07:00

Today is Hailey's 33rd Birthday.

I've been spending WAY too much time at work lately. So I needed to come up with something super special for Hailey's Birthday. But how do I do that when I am gone so much? Enter the world's first Facebook Gift Opener. Enjoy.

To experience the innovation, click HERE.

2010-07-22T18:00:00.001-07:00

My newest endeavor? PadHeads.

2010-06-21T21:00:00.001-07:00

My maiden in-flight wifi experience.

I realize in-flight wifi has been around for some time now. But, for some reason, I've never experienced it. Until right now. So I thought I should document this moment by making my first-ever blog spot from 34k feet.

2010-06-14T20:31:00.001-07:00

Ten incredible years.

Today, Hailey and I celebrate ten years of marriage. And as we attempted to have a romantic dinner tonight in celebration, a small newborn quickly reminded us that ten years is just the beginning. Much to the dismay of the other restaurant patrons, Graham stretched out his vocal cords despite our plan for him to sleep through the meal in his car seat.

But, ten years of marriage has taught us how to improvise. So while Hailey calmed Graham down by holding him in her arms, I cut up her dinner into little bite-size pieces (like what I do for Jamion) so she could eat with her one free hand.

Of course, the night was short as we had to get home to relieve the babysitter. Two hours later I finally had the kids in bed. I can't help but wonder what this night will be like in another ten years. Then I realize Berlin will be 16 years old and able to babysit Jamison and Graham while we go out. But then again, she'll also be old enough to date.

Hmm. I think we'll stick with where we are now.

2010-06-08T19:06:00.000-07:00

I'm not gonna lie, I'm pretty proud of myself for building this lemonade stand.

2010-05-29T17:30:00.000-07:00

Advertising show and tell.

2010-05-14T05:43:00.001-07:00

Another year.

2010-05-07T21:50:00.000-07:00

More advertising show and tell.

Follow this link to see a spot I recently finished for Best Buy's recycle program.

CHECK IT OUT HERE

2010-04-26T13:25:00.000-07:00

The dude in the middle.

Needless to say, this past week has been rather eventful for us. With much anticipation, we welcomed the newest (and most likely last, consider this foreshadowing to an upcoming vasectomy post) child into this world. After much deliberation, the powers at be decided his name would be Graham Joseph Babcock.

We brought him home on Friday. I walked him around the house to give him a little tour of his new digs. I believe they were satisfactory as he spit up on me and then closed his eyes and went to sleep.

The first couple of days were spent trying to remember what this whole baby thing is all about. It has been nearly four years since we brought Jamison home so standard things like diaper changes and burping took a little remembering.

On Sunday, I took Berlin and Jamison to church so mother and Graham could have some much-needed nap time. The Bishop announced our new arrival. "The Babcock's have had their baby. His name is Graham and he was twelve pounds, seven ounces." A very sudden and audible gasp exploded from virtually every woman in the congregation. To which the Bishop squinted and replied, "I think I read that backwards."

Later that night, we were winding down from the day. Jamison had fallen asleep on the couch next to me. I picked him up to carry him upstairs to his bed. As his sleeping body dangled in my arms from walking up the stairs something hit me like a ton of bricks. His weight and body was in stark contrast to the new little body I had been carrying around for the past three days. And I realized that my little dude's entire role in life had been changed. He was no longer our baby. My heart exploded in hurt for him and I couldn't figure out why. I imagined him feeling less special and I couldn't bare the thought.

I laid him in his bed, fully clothed and pulled his sheets up. He squirmed around until he found a comfortable position. I sat down next to his bed and just stared at his silent face. And then the tears came. I don't know if they were tears because I didn't want him to grow up or if they were tears because I didn't want him to feel any less special or what. I mean, I know that it's rather standard for the mother's emotions to be all over the place after a pregnancy and that roller coasters and no-reason-breakdowns are fully expected. But fathers?

Well, hopefully I'm allowed at least one random emotional breakdown mulligan as a father.

Yesterday, the feeling still lingered inside me. So I took James on a full day of "special time." We went to the gym, then to the park and then to his favorite place for lunch, Buffalo Wild Wings. We ordered fried pickle slices and had "fun drinks" (Sprite). Then we followed it all up with a hefty bug hunt, bagging many worms and an occasional rolly polly that hadn't been washed away from yesterday's rain.

During the day, a few distinct impressions fell upon me. The first was that lil' James would be okay. And that this new little brother would actually help him feel more special than he is now because he has someone to help take care of and to be an example to. He will rise to the opportunity and grow in ways I could not imagine.

The second was that I needed to remember to always discipline with love and kindness. Especially during these tender months. I have found myself from time to time getting frustrated with his typical shortcomings after a stressful day at work and this random emotional breakdown was a great reminder to me about what's really important in this life. So as James poured a bunch of little rocks from the rock pit (our ghetto version of a sandpit) on to the cement patio, something I have asked time and time again for him not to do, instead of getting angry, I smiled and politely asked him to help me clean it up.

He promptly smiled and said, "Okay dad, let's do it!"

As simple as it sounds, it was a really great and profound moment.

Truth is, he's an amazing little kid with a huge personality. He's extremely tender and sensitive. He's still a typical rowdy boy, but he's no stranger to kindness.

He'll be an incredible father someday. And, thanks to Graham, he'll get a little practice on the way.

2010-04-22T21:53:00.000-07:00

2010-04-21T22:07:00.000-07:00

It's been a very long, yet very rewarding day.

Today, at around 6:18pm, our third child was born into the world. 7 lbs 12 oz, 21.5 inches. Happy and healthy. However, we have yet to figure out his name. It's become quite the conundrum. We cannot leave the hospital until we've agreed to something. In the meantime, here is a quick snap of the lil' dude with no name.

2010-04-09T19:38:00.000-07:00

I can't seem to hold her back.

As much as I try, I just can't seem to keep Berlin from getting older and bigger. I want her to always stay my little girl. But today, I came home from work only to be met with a huge smile. A huge smile that was one tooth less than the smile I'm used to seeing.

After I shared in her excitement for such a milestone I asked her to promise me she would never leave. She gave me a hug and promised that she would always live with me.

Even after she gets married.

Which, apparently, is going to happen when she's ten.

2010-04-05T10:07:00.001-07:00

Three years.

2010-03-26T19:00:00.000-07:00

Our very first full-fam vacation.

Well, we finally did it. We finally loaded up the kids and had our first vacation as a family. Of course, the only logical destination was Disneyland. So that's what we did. We were joined by our good friends, the Jacobs. Despite staying in the most ghetto motel ever, Castle Inn and Suites, I'd have to say the three-day jaunt was nothing short of success. Below are a bazillion photos from the experience. Enjoy.

2010-02-11T12:29:00.000-08:00

Man, I suck at blogging these days.

There used to be a time when one could expect daily updates from me. Sometimes even multiple posts in one day. Oh, those were the days. But I want you to know that I'm committed to bringing those days back. In the meantime, here is a picture of us with our new car that we bought on ebay.

2009-12-17T07:24:00.000-08:00

Happy Holidays.

2009-11-30T09:32:00.000-08:00

Number three is a boy.

Looks like Berlin will be the only sister in the house. We had the ultrasound done this morning and discovered (quite clearly) that our third and final installment into the family is, indeed, a boy. Jamison went with us to the ultrasound. He was confused because he thought the baby was going to come out. He didn't seem to see what all the excitement was about. But when we told him that he was going to be a big brother to a little brother, a huge grin crossed his face. He'll be happy to not be the littlest in the house anymore.

2009-10-30T06:21:00.000-07:00

More advertising show and tell.

2009-09-28T08:44:00.000-07:00

Family fun at the pumpkin patch farm.

2009-09-10T09:32:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was a good day.

2009-08-23T21:06:00.000-07:00

This is what happiness looks like.

2009-08-20T07:24:00.000-07:00

School's in.

Yup, it's that time of year again. School. This year, Berlin is entering Kindergarten whilst her little sibling, James, is rockin' Preschool. Berlin did two years of Preschool, so this makes her third school year. She's practically a first-day-of-school veteran. But today marks the very first day of school for lil' James. Monumental indeed.

2009-08-09T17:50:00.000-07:00

Playing house.

So today I sat down with Berlin and James to play dinosaurs. Berlin wanted to make it a family theme. So she was the Mommy dinosaur, I was the Daddy and James had two dinosaurs that were the big sister and baby brother. The following scenario ensued.

BERLIN: Okay, Daddy dinosaur is going to stay with you two kids while I go to pilates.

2009-08-03T08:51:00.000-07:00

The Boulder Country Fair is upon us again.

Every year, Hailey and I like to subject our kids to a brutal lesson in true American culture. Otherwise known as the country fair. We loaded up on cotton candy, bought unlimited ride wristbands and went to town. Much fun was had by all.

James sported a righteous blue cotton candy beard for most of the night.

While this year was not nearly as eventful as last year, and DEFINITELY not as eventful as the year before that, it was a fun-filled time nonetheless.

2009-07-09T10:57:00.001-07:00

Happy Birthday, Jamison.

My littlest dude turns three today. He's potty trained. He sleeps in a big boy bed. He's just all grown up now. One of my favorite things about Jamison is how tender he is. Sure, he spends the majority of his days hitting the neighborhood girls with his plastic shovel, but he's so quick to hug them afterward and say sorry.

My other favorite thing is that he can't say his C/K sounds. He replaces them with T sounds. Just like Tweety Bird. "I taught I taw a puddy tat." It's exceptionally funny when it makes him accidentally swear.

Our favorite activity together is to go on Bug Hunts. We get a jar and head out into the field across the way in search of rolly pollies, ladybugs, grasshoppers and whatever else we can find.

Happy Birthday dude. Love you!

2009-07-08T10:35:00.001-07:00

There certainly is no shortage of Michael Jackson talk going on right now.

But I realized something yesterday as I got caught up emotionally in all of this. Michael Jackson was not only the best entertainer/king of pop, but he represents a very strong sense of nostalgia for all of us. When we think of Michael Jackson, we undoubtedly go back in time in our minds. And that gets us emotional. To go back and think about all that this man has accomplished and created during his life and where we have been during those many cases of impact.

For example, I vividly remember the night my family gathered around our living room TV in Jerome, Idaho to see Michael Jackson moonwalk across the stage for the first time. It blew us away. Instantly my older brothers began trying to figure out how to do it. All of us. Moonwalking across the living room.

I remember the first time I saw the Thriller video. I'd never seen anything like it. It was so big. So beyond. Literally contagious.

I remember when Michael Jackson rode the log ride right behind us at Knotts Berry Farm. We were so excited because he almost decided to actually ride in the back seat of our log. So close. We concluded our family vacation with a single photo of him in his crimson uniform and silver glove among the excited crowd. I took that picture to my third grade show and tell.

I remember seeing his movie in 3D at Epcot Center with my big sister.

Michael Jackson puts me back in the 80s. Back when I was the youngest of four older siblings. I didn't have any cares. Life was always an adventure and full of fun. No stress. No pressure. And Michael literally is the soundtrack of these better days. The soundtrack of memory lane.

So as I watched the memorial service all I could think of were all of these moments in my past. And it hurt because it felt like, somehow, those memories were being erased.

There is much awe in the story of one man having such a profound impact on the world like he did. And such tragedy in seeing the adversaries in life slowly decay and eventually dethrone him.

2009-06-29T08:37:00.000-07:00

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BERLIN!

I can't believe my littlest angel is already five. She promised me this morning that she would still live with me after she gets married. Incidentally, she's planning on getting married when she's 11.

Happy Birthday, Berlin. I can't wait to meet you at iHop tonight for Birthday breakfast for dinner. Love you!

2009-06-14T00:22:00.001-07:00

Why is it a miracle that Hailey married me?

EXHIBIT A: Just look at this dude. Hunkster McHunk. He's all handsome. Confident. And you know he probably drove a jeep.

EXHIBIT B: It's just a miracle this guy didn't seek me out and kill me.

EXHIBIT C: A Ferrari? Seriously? I was no match for this. I drove a Honda CT-70 scooter.

EXHIBIT D: While I considered myself quite the rock star, clearly my rock status could not rival that of Ed Roland from Collective Soul. This fact manifested itself bright and early one morning as I confronted Hailey whilst she was sneaking out to her car.

ME: Hey, how was the concert last night? And where are you going?

HAILEY: Uhh, we won a sweepstakes.

ME: A sweepstakes?

HAILEY: Yeah, we won a sweepstakes to go see them again tonight in Denver.

ME: A sweepstakes to see a show you already saw?

HAILEY: Yeah, a sweepstakes. Gotta go.

EXHIBIT E: I made a card for Hailey that featured pictures of me wearing shirts with different days of the week on them. The card said, "I love you every day of the week." Yes, seriously. I would've broken up with myself right there.

EXHIBIT F: My hair had serious issues.

EXHIBIT G: Apparently I was completely comfortable with dressing like a total wiener.

EXHIBIT H: Even after I proposed, Hailey was hesitant. Just see our wedding announcement photograph.

But somehow I did it. Somehow I emerged from the dust victorious. Despite problematic hair. Despite a mode of transportation commonly associated with the word "dorkus." Despite a schizophrenic wardrobe. Despite all these things, she said yes.

And, as with every miracle, the people celebrated.

Hailey, Happy Anniversary. It's been nine years and I still can't believe you actually married me. I love, love, love, love, love, love, love, love, love you. (Yes, that's nine loves. I still got it!)

LOVE SONG.

2009-05-24T21:48:00.000-07:00

The Annual Memorial Day Weekend Pig Roast.

Nothing says honoring the nation's fallen like a giant roasted pig. This Memorial Day weekend we headed up into the mountains to pay our respects.

To the pig.

Berlin was a good sport about the whole thing. I was surprised. I thought the whole ordeal would be a bit more traumatic for her. As it turned out, I was the one who couldn't stand to eat directly from the carcass. But I wasn't the only one with a sour stomach for the concept. Check out the kid in the background of this image. He clearly did not sign up for this.

2009-05-14T06:31:00.000-07:00

Hello 32.

2009-05-13T10:52:00.000-07:00

Appreciating the handy work.

It's been over two years since I packed up the family and moved us all to Colorado. And in those two years, I have constantly found myself mesmerized at just how beautiful this area really is. Hailey always jokes with me for pointing it out so much. But I've never experienced anything quite like it.

The other day as I was driving home, the setting sun lit the sky ablaze. I tried to capture the moment.

2009-04-28T23:20:00.000-07:00

Another ichat conversation with Hailey.

I stepped away from my computer tonight just long enough to miss this brief conversation. Interestingly enough, the conversation is very telling of my life these days.

2009-04-16T08:47:00.001-07:00

One of these things in not like the others.

I was recently put into a new creative grouping with two other guys. Can you guess what we don't have in common?

2009-04-12T18:52:00.000-07:00

Easter morning.

2009-04-08T07:36:00.000-07:00

2009-04-07T11:43:00.001-07:00

MixHappens 6.0.

That's right, folks. The sixth installment of Mix Happens is here. Smooth jams await you.

Download. Unzip. Enjoy.

DOWNLOAD HERE

2009-04-03T03:01:00.001-07:00

Hey, I'm at work right now!

2009-03-31T19:41:00.001-07:00

Steve Happening.

You all know that Steve happens. But, have you ever wondered what was happening right this very second? Well, now you'll know. Introducing Steve Happening. Real-time broadcast of Steve, well, happening.

Yes, it's boring. Yes, it's creepy. Yes, you will feel less intelligent for tuning it.

But hey, what can I say?

2009-03-29T16:48:00.001-07:00

More advertising show and tell.

Here are a couple new commercials for your viewing pleasure.

And this one was aired during the NCAA March Madness.

2009-03-27T08:31:00.000-07:00

Arena rock in a venue much smaller than an arena.

This past weekend, I treated myself to what was probably the most explosive and energetic music performance I have ever seen. Metallica took a break from their big arena tour to play an intimate venue in Austin at this year's SXSW. And I was front and center to take the audible beating. I managed to grab a few decent snaps amidst the chaos and carnage.

After the dust had cleared and the war was over I reached down to check my phone. Nothing. It was gone! Oh no. Somehow in the hysteria of the moment my phone separated itself from it's rightful owner. In a panic, I began scouring the dirt floor. It was littered with plastic cups and debris. But no phone.

There was no way a Blackberry could've survived the trampling of 2000 Metallica fans. As the floor cleared out and even remnants of the phone were nowhere to be found, reality set in. My phone was gone.

All my contacts. Gone.

But I couldn't give up. I ran up to the stage and quickly asked the MC to announce that I had lost my phone.

MC: Hey, this stupid bald guy up here lost his phone. Anybody have it?"

Awesome. Thanks.

Unfortunately, no one responded. That was it. I had to live with the reality. I lost my phone. Oh well, worse things have happened, right? So I set off into the Austin night air to hail a cab to take me to my friend's house where I was staying for the night. One pulled over and I got in.

CABBY: Where to?

ME: 2202 Garden Street.

CABBY: Where is that?

ME: I don't know.

CABBY: Well can you call someone?

ME: Crud. No, I lost my phone.

CABBY: Well, out you go.

Strike one. For the next hour and a half I failed to get a taxi to take me into this residential area. I even offered to pay double. No dice. As the night grew older, I began to realize something.

Holy crap. I'm lost. Lost in Texas. I'm 31 years old and completely lost in Texas. I have no way of getting ahold of my friend. He can't get ahold of me. I can't look him up.

Then I got an idea. I went into a hotel and asked the clerk if he wouldn't mind printing me off a google map from the hotel to my friend's house. No dice. I tried another hotel. Again, because I wasn't a guest they wouldn't help me. Finally, a nice chap at the Hilton printed me off a map. Perfect, now I just need to find a cab that will take me to residential and then I'll use this map.

About an hour later I succumbed to the reality that the cabs in Austin completely blow and that I was probably going to have to sleep in the park. The SXSW crowds were dissipating into the night air. Oh well, I guess I have no choice but to walk. I stepped into a corner store and purchased me a gatorade and begin my journey.

I felt a little like Red Riding Hood walking through the scary forest on her way to grandma's. Only, this scary forest was lined with shady bars and mexican dives. The street was lit just enough for hoodlums to identify me as an out of towner, clutching a google map. Oh great. I'm going to die. I'm going to die in Texas. I'm going to get jumped and kicked in the neck with cowboy boots. Great. Just great. Stupid lost phone! Why! Why! Family, I love you!

Before too long I found myself not but a block away from my friend's house. I had made it. Unharmed and un-killed. Just then I felt something mushy under my foot. My stepping on it released a fowl odor into the air. I looked down. Oh great, a dead cat. Stupid lost phone!

Once I arrived I relayed my night's adventures to my friend. And before retiring I thought I would make one last effort to call my phone. This time, however, somebody answered!

GUY: Hello.

ME: Hello!

GUY: Who's phone is this?

ME: It's mine! Oh thank you heaven, it's mine!

He then explained to me that if I could get down to where he was in the next ten minutes he would wait and give me back my phone. My buddy and I jumped in his car and drove like the wind. We found the guy and he returned my phone. Suddenly, the entire night's drama had a happy ending.

I didn't die. I didn't sleep in the park. I didn't have to pay for a new phone.

I must say, looking back, the whole thing was rather heroic.

2009-03-24T17:49:00.001-07:00

Update.

Just a quick update to let you know that the Lululemon items mentioned below have already been returned and exchanged for other items.

2009-03-12T21:30:00.001-07:00

This is what happens when subtle hints materialize.

2009-03-12T09:16:00.000-07:00

Subtle hints.

My much better half has never been known for her sense of subtly. But nevertheless, that doesn't stop her from trying. I've been on the road for a few weeks and am in LA for a little while. My hotel just happens to be a few blocks from the Santa Monica Lulu Lemon store. Last night the light on my phone started blinking, informing me that I have an incoming message. I look. Woo hoo, it's from Hailey! I open it up expecting something sweet like "I love you" or "I miss you."

Nope. Just a link. This link.

2009-03-07T12:02:00.000-08:00

Karma.

The emotions displayed in the post below were quickly replaced as I was invited to fly in a private jet back to LA. Leather seats. Fresh fruit plates. Gold seat belts. Filet Mignon. All at 43,000 feet.

Yes, I tasted the good life. And now I shall never return to Economy Plus again.

2009-03-03T19:09:00.000-08:00

My letter to United Airlines.

Dear Important People at United Airlines,

Hi. My name is Steve. And first of all, I'd like to say that I like your airline. And by like I mean, I'm too far down the road with your miles program to switch to anybody else. But suffice it to say, I'd probably hang out with you if we were neighbors.

Moving on.

Yesterday you intended to whisk me along the friendly skies from Los Angeles, CA to Raleigh, NC. It was going to be magical. I was going to properly stow my carry-on luggage and you were going to thrice offer me a ginger ale and once a snack box for $9.99. Correct change appreciated.

Total travel time about five and a half hours.

At 7:55AM I boarded your 767 and promptly settled into 24A. I plugged my white ear buds into your arm rest and tuned in to channel 2. Yes, I realize this is the Top 40/hip hop/rap station. What? What's the big deal? Can't I have a guilty pleasure that I indulge in only when inflight? Look, stop it. Stop looking at me that way. I can see the way you're reading this. This is my letter to you. So back off. But seriously, why is every rap song about "making love in a club with a thug"?

Moving on.

I cracked open a book (Adrift. A thrilling tale of a man left to survive among the open seas.) and settled in. It was at this point that I was informed by one of your pilots that, due to mechanical issues, we were going to be delayed. But hey, that's okay because the East coast was getting blasted with bad weather and we would probably end up being delayed in the air anyway. Pretty good justification. I bought it.

One hour later.

The mechanics (your best mechanics, by the way) were still trying to resolve the problem. But rest assured, we'd be on our way soon. No worries. I'm a cool guy like that. Cool as a cucumber.

Two hours later.

Still working on the problem. At this point I started to get the bum cramps. You know, when your butt starts to hurt from sitting in your incredibly comfortable seats. You should know, you can find very temporary relief by shifting cheeks. But when you only have two to choose from, your options for relief get very limited very quickly.

Three hours later.

Okay, seriously? I was trying to maintain my cool level of cool levelheadedness. But I was weakening by the second. Meanwhile, the guy from my book, Stephen Callahan, had already gotten rescued. Seventy six days at sea and he was rescued. Meanwhile, I remained trapped. Finally. Finally we pushed back and headed toward the runway. Sorry, I mean taxied. We taxied toward the runway. I know how you guys are about your lingo. And I respect that. I can get behind that.

Just before we were to take off, there was a radio problem. So we sat there. Again. Fortunately, this issue was resolved relatively quickly and we were on our way.

Once in flight, you offered me a screening of The Express. I didn't know it was possible to make another movie about racial segregation confronted and conquered through collegiate football. But someone did. And you blessed me with it. Then we landed in Washington DC and you blessed me with something else. A cancelled connecting flight.

Fortunately, I was able to book myself on another one of your connecting flights from the other airport in DC. I had just enough time to catch a car over and get onboard. I arrived in the nick of time. Oh, wait. I mean, I thought I arrived just in the nick of time. You see, that flight got delayed five hours. Scheduled now to leave at 1:40AM.

Oh well. At least I'll get to Raleigh in time for my TV shoot the following day. Hey, guess what! After sitting in the airport for three hours, you cancelled that flight too.

I scrambled down the hall to see if you had any other options for me. You can imagine my utter elation when your virtually animatronic customer service representative informed me in the affirmative. After listening to her ridiculously long and ridiculously fake fingernails tap ferociously on the keyboard, she handed me a ticket. Somehow, this flight was leaving at 12:45AM.

Hey, now we're talking! Now I'm saving time. Woo hoo!

With my new boarding pass in hand, I settled down in the terminal and waited for the magic moment when I would actually get on a plane, take flight, land and then crawl into my hotel bed. While I waited, the entire airport cleared out. In fact, some workers showed up and started painting the halls.

12:45AM came and went. But, on the bright side, I learned a few dirty jokes from the painters. So hey, I have that going for me. Which is nice.

1:40AM. Your representative told me to take an escalator down, hang a left and walk directly out a door into the frigid night air to board my flight. What she didn't say, however, was that I wouldn't directly board my flight. Instead, I would walk out and get on a bus. She also failed to inform me that the bus would be turned off and completely frozen. And that it would have its doors wide open the entire time. After about 30 minutes of shivering the enamel off of my teeth, your bus took me out to a small airplane.

That plane ride was excellent actually. I couldn't be more complimentary. Up and down. Just like that.

Eventually, I walked into my hotel room. I collapsed onto my bed, too tired to even remove my clothing. What was supposed to be a simple five hour day of travel turned into....wait for it...wait for it..18 hours of sheer bliss and awesomeness. So thank you for those 18 hours, United. I shall forever cherish them.

PS: Thanks for making everything right by offering me a complimentary granola bar. No, seriously. How did you know cinnamon is my favorite? Loves!

2009-02-24T00:49:00.000-08:00

Meeting childhood heroes.

I remember, as a little kid, sneaking into my big brother's room to borrow some music. Little did I know, the cassette tape I would randomly snag would have such a profound affect on me. Then, years later I would go on to pick up the bass guitar just so I could join an Idaho garage band that played Metallica covers. Then, years later, I would go make a commercial with the band. I tried my best to contain my excitement. I think I failed.

2009-02-16T14:55:00.000-08:00

My first glamour model shoot.

Being the young gun, aspiring photographer that I am, I figured I had best get some glamour model experience under my belt. And who better than my better half. In actuality, she needed some photos taken for her pilates profile, so we headed up to the mountains to see what we could do. She was quite the natural, I must say.

2009-02-11T13:18:00.000-08:00

For all of you who are about to bake a cake.

Might I suggest a decorative cake topper? Oh, I don't know which one exactly. You know, just whatever.

2009-02-06T10:52:00.000-08:00

If you like SteveHappens. You'll love it with a side of BACON.

2009-01-27T23:13:00.000-08:00

Random Photo Installment #1.

I recently became the proud owner of a new camera. I've always loved photography but have never had the time nor means to turn it into a hobby. But now that I have the means (certainly not the time), hopefully I'll be able to explore it. So, occasionally, this blog will feature a random photo from me. This is the first installment.

"Happy James"

2009-01-22T07:52:00.000-08:00

I'm feeling pretty manly these days.

Lately, I've experienced a profound transformation. I've gone from a reserved, unable, meek male to a hardened, domesticated, sturdy MAN. It all started this weekend when I decided to install some shelves in my garage.

I headed down to the ol' Home Depot to check out the storage systems. The aisle showcased several options. Fully assembled, easy-to-install options. The price tags were a little more than I wanted to swallow, however. But what other options did I have? I inquired of a sales associate.

ME: Excuse me, are these all the garage shelf systems you have?

HOME DEPOT GUY: Sure are. Unless you want to just build your own. Lumber is in aisle 45.

It was at this point that I realized the Home Depot guy wasn't really being helpful. He wanted to take a jab at my void of manliness. He saw a scrawny father of two standing amongst the wire shelving units (one row over from the decorative hanging lights, mind you) and he took his shot.

Well, the shot stuck.

I curled up my bottom lip, puffed up my chest and headed for aisle 45.

It was like a whole new world. A completely different culture. It was filled with real men. Everywhere. I mean, these guys came to Home Depot wearing their own gloves and everything. Everywhere I turned, guys were haulin' lumber. Taking measurements. Casually swearing. The whole nine yards.

Upon entering this world, I was quickly spotted as an outsider. I'm sure my lack of leather tool belt and gloves gave me away. So I quickly turned my focus to the stacks of lumber, pretending I knew what I was looking for. But after about 20 minutes of this facade, I realized I was in over my head. I had to make my escape. I coughed up some minor fit, like they didn't have the exact kind of wood I like to work with or something. I tossed my hands into the air, said something involving the words "hell" and "damn" and stormed out into the parking lot.

Once there, I snuck into my 1999 Honda Accord and returned back to my home. But, I never made it back home. At least not to the home I remembered, the home where I wasn't a real man. I now had a new resolve. I was a changed "man" as it were.

But I still had a problem. Like any changed hero, I needed to cross over the threshold. I needed to conquer the shelves. Through means of real wood, real hardware and real power tools.

I retired to the privacy of my bedroom, where I secretly googled "How to build garage shelving." My search results took me to a site called ExpertVillage.com. And wouldn't you know it, they had a five-video tutorial on how to build some simple storage shelving. As I soaked in the tutorials, an amazing sense of excitement overcame me.

I can do this. In fact, this looks really easy.

I watched the videos a second time just to make sure.

I swept out any remaining doubt, found my hardly-used work gloves in the garage, fastened a measuring tape to my hip that was part of a simple man's toolkit I was given as a wedding gift and returned to Home Depot. Without hesitation, I confidently obtained a lumber cart. I even entered through the contractor's entrance.

This time I blended right in. I strutted around, throwing lumber onto my cart like it was nothin' doin'. And it felt awesome. Just then I spied a feeble father entering into the area for his first time. I could see the pain and confusion in his eyes. This world was so desirous, but, at the moment, unobtainable. I offered a hardened scowl as I passed. I was going to spit by his shoes to show him just how desensitized this world was, but a painful canker sore held me back. So the scowl had to suffice.

I confidently lined up in the contractor's checkout line sharing company with society's most calloused.

I returned to my garage. With the tutorials still fresh in my mind, I went to work. I turned on the classic rock radio station and let ACDC take the lead. With a power drill in one hand and a two-inch deck screw in the other, it began.

Two hours later I emerged from my garage. I had done it. I had crossed over. I had become a real man. I had built, perhaps the finest garage shelf Longmont, CO had ever seen.

And from that moment, I have been forever changed.

So now, as a real, manly man, it really doesn't bother me that the rental car we were given from our insurance company while our wrecked car is in the shop is a BIG, HUGE, HONKIN', EXTENDED CAB, MONSTER OF A TRUCK.

I'm probably gonna use it to haul some stuff to the dump this weekend. Or maybe even pick up some landscaping boulders.

Or maybe even both.

2009-01-19T09:04:00.000-08:00

Burned by a four-year-old.

I was brushing the knots out of Berlin's hair before school when the following conversation occurred.

BERLIN: Daddy, it hurts!

ME: Just hold still and it won't hurt.

BERLIN: No!

At this point I decided to use some good ol' fashioned parent judo.

ME: Berlin, if you don't hold still and let me brush the knots out of your hair, your hair will fall out.

Berlin paused for a moment.

BERLIN: Is that what happened to you?

2009-01-08T09:00:00.000-08:00

This was the week of tragedy here in Colorado.

Yesterday, a downed power line sparked what would become a massive wildfire in the foothills of Boulder. Several were evacuated and some homes were destroyed. Winds gusts throughout the day were clocked at over 100 mph, thus aiding in the fire's spread.

Then, just when you think it couldn't get any worse, this happens. A man somehow began to fall from the ski lift at Vail, but caught himself. By his pants? Luckily he was rescued. Unluckily, camera phones exist.

Yes, definitely a devastating week to be had here in Colorado. But perhaps some good can come from all of this. Lessons learned. So, may this post be a reminder to all you out there to be careful. Watch out for wildfires and always, always, always wear long underwear when you go skiing. This is SteveHappens reporting. SteveHappens News. Back to you, SteveHappens.

2009-01-05T17:07:00.001-08:00

Love > Economy.

Hailey and I have concocted a little scheme. A scheme of love, as it were. You see, from now until February 14th, we are selling all the stuff around the house that we no longer use on ebay and craigslist, with all proceeds going towards Valentine's Day gifts. Because, nothing says love more than clearing out a pair of old size ten snowboarding boots and a Kenmore range hood.

Speaking of, anybody in the market for some Bebe clothes or perhaps some Playstation video games deemed by mother to be too aggressive for a house with little kids?

So who's with us? Any other couples out there interested in partaking in this little challenge? It's a great way to clean out the house and score some extra loot - all in the name of love. And money. But mostly love.

And money.

2009-01-03T21:51:00.000-08:00

Cleaning it up.

This week, Hailey charged me with the task of cleaning out and organizing the garage. For years, we've both had boxes upon boxes of random memories take up valuable real estate. And while Hailey definitely takes the crown for Pack Rat of the Century, I also had some cleaning out to do. In one of the many boxes, I came upon a photo repair project I did in a photoshop class over eight years ago.

ORIGINAL IMAGE
REPAIRED IMAGE
Now, the question here isn't whether or not my repair job was any good. It's where in the heck did I get such a random photo? Of all the possible photos to use, I chose this one? Well, this classic visual ditty is of Hailey amidst her teenage wonder years teaching some homely onlooker the basics of cheerleading. "Ready? Okay. The first thing you're gonna want to do is pull your sweat shorts up four inches higher than normal. Go! Fight! Wedgie!"

2009-01-01T09:20:00.000-08:00

Well, hello there 2009.

2008-12-31T22:22:00.001-08:00

So long 2008.

2008-12-25T20:18:00.000-08:00

Merry Christmas 2008.

Well another Christmas came and went. This year was great. The kids went nuts. Hailey got spoiled by way of Lululemon and I got the best gift in the world (see below). But perhaps the most miraculous thing about this year is the fact that I was able to completely remove and pack every trace of Christmas decor by 1pm.

About two minutes in, name tags on gifts failed to contain meaning.

Let's hear it for a fist full of chocolate at seven in the morning.

The classic pose with gift shot.

Hardwood floors + skateboard = need for helmet.

Behold, the most amazing gift in the world. The iSqueez. Now, don't let the jovial name fool you. This sucker is 100% business. With three different settings of intensity, the iSqueez magically transports you to a world of relaxation and euphoria. I sat in it for about an hour straight and now I can't feel my left foot. But I'm pretty sure if I could feel it, it would feel incredible.

Of course, I have to share.

2008-12-22T13:21:00.000-08:00

Happy Holidays.

I know what you're thinking. "Steve, you can't just post a picture of your kids and call that your official holiday card." I know, I know. What about all the time and effort and love that goes into sending out cards to all of your friends, neighbors, kith and kin? Well, don't you worry. Below you'll find some simple instructions on how to turn this simple blog post into a bonafide holiday greeting from my family to yours.

1. Right click on above image and select open in a new window.

2. Ctrl + P

3. ✂

4. Use a small strip of Scotch tape to hang next to all the other holiday cards.

5. Step back and admire.

6. Fold your arms and smile.

7. Think to yourself, "Those Babcocks sure are thoughtful."

2008-12-22T07:08:00.001-08:00

Heaven help me if I have to hear this one more time.

2008-12-19T22:05:00.000-08:00

Plural party like it's 1999.

When it comes to celebrating the holidays, nobody does it better (or perhaps more twisted) than my place of employment. You see, our holiday parties are themed costume parties. This year's theme?

Super Heroes.

And while it would've been perfectly acceptable for Hailey and I to attend as Superman and Wonder Woman, we opted for something a little less conventional.

Introducing The Polygamist Avenger.

2008-12-16T12:18:00.001-08:00

Have you ever wondered what kind of super hero you'd be?

Well, thanks to some fancy super hero creating technology, I no longer have to ask said question. Behold, The Intimidating Soaring Jedi. As you can see, there are many facets to my alter/super ego. But one thing's for certain. I rule pretty hard.

Make your super hero HERE.

2008-12-15T16:50:00.000-08:00

H2NO.

We awoke this morning to quite the pleasant surprise. Dare I even say an early Christmas miracle.

Frozen pipes.

Hopes were dashed as we eagerly raised faucet handles and turned shower knobs. All attempts were met with a pathetic hissing sound that quickly petered out into nothing. A very dry nothing.

Unfortunately, we did not prepare for last night's record breaking low (-17°) by leaving a small stream of water running in the sink. Even after this same thing happened to us two years ago in Utah, you'd think we would've learned our lesson. But alas, no lesson was learned. Showers were skipped. Teeth brushings were replaced with mouth washings. And happy feelings were replaced with angst and irritation.

Ten hours, more record low temperatures, and one plumber visit later, the pipes are still frozen and water is nowhere to be found. I wonder how long this will last.

UPDATE 8:46PM
I called a plumber who told me to apply a hot blow dryer to my water valve outside. So, while I was outside doing that (low and behold I was actually holding the blow dryer up to the gas valve. Long story, I'll save it for another post) Hailey came screaming out the front door. "It's fixed! It's fixed! I hear water running everywhere!"

FREEZE IT.

Water running everywhere? It's fixed? Umm.

Yup, you guessed it, the frozen pipe had taken all it could muster and finally gave in, bursting wide open, gushing water all over our basement. We ran downstairs toward the sound only to find an extremely soaked carpet and water streaming down the drywall. We quickly shut off the water and sat in silence just surveying the damage and feeling sorry for ourselves. Hailey broke the silence with an attempt at encouragement.

HAILEY: Well, at least it didn't happen while we were asleep.

Albeit true, somehow the words didn't do anything for me. As I stood in an area I thought wasn't affected, I begin to feel the water seep up from below the carpet and soak my ankle socks.

ME: I'll get the wet/dry vac.

HAILEY: This blows.

ME: Yep, this blows.

2008-12-03T19:20:00.000-08:00

The day the music died.

For the last eight years I poured every ounce of my heart and soul into my band, Hudson River School. And as many of you know, this past weekend, we officially said farewell to our friends, family and fans with one last performance in a small theater in Midvale, Utah.

I fully expected it to be an emotional venture. But, thanks to my eldest brother and his family and my second eldest brother who surprised me by jumping in his car and driving all day to attend the show, it was far more than I could have ever imagined.

I intended to write a blog post about the band and this experience, but I received an email notifying me of an article in the Salt Lake Tribune today that I think sums up the band experience much better than I (or anyone else) could ever imagine. And wouldn't you know it, another surprise from my brother Matt.

The article can be read here. But I'm also cutting and pasting it below.

Please enjoy.

"School's Out"

So I did something I'd never done before. And sadly, I won't get the chance to do it again. In retrospect, it's something I probably shouldn't have done (the timing was bad) but I couldn't have stopped myself if I'd wanted to.

Last weekend, at the tail end of a rejuvenating Thanksgiving Break (when I should have been doing other things, like seeing to the needs of my pregnant wife and four young daughters), I drove south from Idaho to Midvale, Utah, to see my younger brother, Steve, and his band play their farewell gig.

At the outset, my weekend fling was nothing more than a chance to say howdy to Steve, a University of Utah graduate and former Salt Lake City resident who not long ago entered the corporate machine in Colorado so he could feed and house his own brood. Steve didn't know I was coming, and so by the time I soared all 75,000 miles of my Dodge minivan over Malad Pass, with "Road Trip," a track from Hudson River School's debut CD, Scenes from a Vinyl Recliner, melting the copper from my feeble dashboard speakers, I began to laugh out loud. Why? Partly because I was looking forward to surprising Steve, but mostly because what I was doing felt so ridiculous but so sublime. The prospect of driving for hours to see an obscure rock concert in an even more obscure venue, Midvale's Main Street Theatre, had unhinged my spirit, and perhaps rattled a few bureau drawers in my psyche. It was a curious feeling. Innocent fun fueled on euphoria. The high-octane grandeur of small epics.

So why did my solo excursion to see America's final River show leave me feeling so melancholy once I returned? It's Monday morning, and I'm still trying to figure it out.

Despite the guilt I felt about abandoning my wife and kids, I drove to Salt Lake intoxicated with a sense of liberation, even destiny, as I traveled down to dedicate my holiday weekend to a littered but deserving back-street episode in Rocky Mountain rock history. Thirty minutes before the show, I cruised into Midvale, passing through the neon-spangled gauntlet of bodegas, tattoo parlors, late-night hair salons, and pawn shops that has usurped Midvale's once picturesque nineteenth-century Main Street drag. Unsure that I had found the right place, I gaped around as I drove slowly through the tree-shrouded shadows. Across from Midvale's impressive historical society museum, which in the company of so many shanty-town facades stuck out like an eyesore, I found a parking space, grateful to step into the placid late fall air and stretch my legs. As I walked south in search of the refurbished vaudeville hall in which my brother would unleash his swan song, I was reminded of how much of the world's history is made every day in the forgotten buildings and down the tin pan alleys that few people visit.

If I returned home from my impromptu junket with feelings of sadness, it clearly wasn't the show's fault. The warm-up act, The Trademark, a Provo-based metal band and long-time HRS devotees, rang the modest crowd's deci-bells with a spine-warping original set, complete with stage dives and audience shout-outs. Despite their rough edges, The Trademark displayed admirable energy and stage presence, especially in the face of such sparse attendance, which included one socially maladjusted scrooge who mega-heckled them in the silence between numbers.

"You suck!" the girl bellowed.

"Hey," The Trademark's stocky bassist countered. "Just so you guys know, I don't think you know how important this show is. This is for Hudson River School. We were just starting when, around here, they were the thing. Up there."

By the time Hudson River School was setting up and preparing to rain sparkling thunder from the rafters, the tiered hall held somewhere between fifty to sixty assorted fans. There could have been as many as one hundred (I can't remember, I didn't take my eyes of the stage for most of the night).

As Steve and his bandmates maneuvered casually around the floor, mixing with fans and family and hoisting their kids in the air, a visual montage of the group's history, assembled by guitarist Spencer Jacobs, eased across a screen at center stage. The pastiche of snapshots told the story of the band's colorful nearly ten-year trajectory of musical experiments and experiences: the live show from the Superdrag tour in L. A.; the late-night recording sessions; and shot after shot of the four lads ("dads" is more accurate now for more than one band member), all sleep-deprived with "road bedhead," eating burgers for breakfast in greasy spoon restaurants. A series of enhanced black-and-white promo pics showed them piloting Big Wheels and other kiddie bikes down a parking garage ramp. These last pictures reminded me of an image currently preserved on one of the band's You Tube "mood pieces" (the guys aiming their expressions at the camera with classic Lennon/McCartney sang-froid as they stand and straddle kiddie bikes on a crosswalk, a la alternative Abbey Road). During the slide show, the room fell silent. It felt as if I'd stumbled into a wedding reception or college reunion instead of a rock concert. The palette of visual memories recalled for everyone the band's signature X-factor: four offbeat guys in perfect synchronicity.

After a few clipped prefatory remarks from Bobby Brinton, the group's lead man, the River crew released a torrent of delightfully amplified melodies. For most of the show, I remained to the side, balanced on a railing, so I could get a good view of Steve and his bass guitar. As the show progressed, raising the mercury in the rock thermometer with every punchy backbeat and swooping power chord, I removed my hooded sweatshirt and proudly displayed my "HRS" T-shirt in the purple glare of the ultraviolet lights. Looking around, I saw many other fans, both old and young, wearing similar T-shirts. It may have been at that moment that the first inklings of sorrow struck me. It was over, I realized, before it had begun. Here I was, grooving to this fabulously soul-elevating sound with so many strangers who felt like family, and it was all because we had come to say goodbye.

If rock concerts can have themes, that may have been the one for the night: family. At times, I was struck by the make-up of the motley mob that had gathered in Midvale and adopted me for the night. Next to the guy with egg-beater hair and pierced nose, a grandmother in loafers and lacy vanilla sweater was getting jiggy, her ears corked with yellow foam ear plugs, her fingers tapping the cover of a library book. The girl in denim skirt, fish-net stockings, and Pat Benatar coiffure was careful not to skewer her stiletto heels through the toes of the tow-headed eight-year boy in collared shirt and jeans who kept banging his head against the air and throbbing his body like a trout taking shock therapy. It truly was a case of mulligan stew for the American soul. And I thought to myself, as I failed repeatedly to control my body's contortions, what other band in America could have drawn all this diversity under one roof on the same night? In the sold-out Vanity Fair of America's self-indulgent, absurdly nuanced, and overly niched music market (in which you are only a cowboy, skinhead thrasher, or Satanic misanthrope) where can you find artists whose appeal welcomes all age groups, cultural arenas, and musical tastes?

At Midvale's Main Street Theatre last Saturday night, that's where.

With each song, the band became more loose, animated, and unified. And with each song, we roared our approval. However, even as I hopped in happy chorus with my fellow tribesmen, women, and children, I looked around and saw that, despite our boundless energy, a nagging unsatisfaction still plagued us. We all seemed to be asking the same thing: Why didn't somebody sign them? Why hadn't they landed a major recording contract? It was the question that, along with every snappy River riff, lingered in the air. At one point, this shared undercurrent of proletarian angst erupted between numbers from a back row.

"Clive Davis is a fool!" someone shouted.

Those in attendance understood this fan's reference. Over three years ago, Clive Davis, a Sony recording executive, flew Hudson River School to New York for an audition. The trip resulted in a studio-produced single, the infectious and hip track, "Useless," and the possibility of a full CD contract, depending on how "Useless" played on American airwaves. For whatever reason, Davis chose not to sign them, and they returned home to finish self-producing Rise & Fall (so aptly and tragically titled), their professionally packaged follow-up CD, which they recorded in drummer Andy Patterson's studio and sold for six dollars the night of the Midvale concert.

On stage, however, the band only smiled at the bitterness expressed by its most vocal fan of the night. Uninterested in treading sour grapes through the winepress of the past, Bobby Brinton thanked us all for coming after each number, only once commenting on their hard luck.

"We almost made it," he said during a pause in the action.

In fact, in the Rise & Fall liner notes, the philosophical four thank Clive Davis for the chance to record with him at Sony. The words to one song they featured in their farewell set, "Don't Keep Me Waiting," a track not included on either Scenes or Rise & Fall, but released to fans via the Internet, summed up a moment of Zen enlightenment for the band and us. In this driving, exuberant celebration of future hopes, Brinton sings, "Don't waste time / Expecting what you had / If you give it up now / You'll never reach it / Stay in line / Forget about the past / If we live it up now / We'll always feel it." And as Brinton and his band advised those of us who gathered to witness the send-off, we lived it up and are still feeling the exhilaration of what we saw and heard in that backstreet theater. To end the show, Brinton played a solo acoustic version of "Rise & Fall" (a mesmeric folk-rock ballad that serves as an anthem for the band and, in many ways, the American quest for meaning). "They tell me it's part of the territory," Brinton sings, "Well, I don't know why you'd be sorry / Believe in me / When the hope we carried / Is broken, buried / Please keep me in your sight."

To my brother Steve and Hudson River School, I say you have nothing to be sorry about. You gave us more than we deserved, and you got far less than you should have received.

At the end of the show, which featured a pillar-shaking rendition of "The Great Mistake," the lights showered the hall with pale brightness, and we all squinted and looked around like homeless pets, not wanting to leave. Yes, the great mistake, I thought, as the band mingled with the fans on the floor like marines through a village of refugees, was that those who were in a position to didn't sign these guys. Reluctantly, we said our goodbyes, got our autographs, and trudged out of the Saturday night smoke and rubble of a dream unrealized. In the lobby, I took a moment to talk to Steve.

"So how's it going?" I asked, masking the rising whimper in my chest.

"All right," he said. "We made enough tonight to pay the rent on the place, so that's good."

Ah, little brother, the corporate dad. Here's me, blubbering like a dumped teenage crush, rending my T-shirt in sackcloth-and-ashes because of the demise of one of Americaâ€™s most innovative mini-meccas, and he's concerned about keeping the ledger tidy.

On the drive back, I thought about Steve's cool reaction and wondered why I had become so emotionally involved in something that had started out as a simple favor to my brother. Listening to "Rise & Fall" again in my car, I realized why the tune had sounded so familiar, and I remembered that the Midvale show had not been my first River gig. Years back, when they were just starting out, Hudson River School played at Craigo's Pizza, a college hangout near the campus where I work. With a flash of recognition, I realized that Bobby had played "Rise & Fall" as an acoustic number there as well, that the song had to be at least a decade old, and that, after the Craigo's gig, the band had crashed in sleeping bags on our living room floor. The theme? Family.

Aficionados of nineteenth-century American art history will tell you that the Hudson River School, which included such painters as Thomas Cole and Asher Durand, became known for their sweeping landscapes that inspired awe and filled viewers with a limitless expanse of vision. Somehow, these painters walked out into the world, which for them was the pristine Hudson River Valley, and found that art was a matter of recording what you saw, and that what you saw in the outside world could enhance your inner life. Then, at the onset of the twenty-first century, a group of upbeat twenty-somethings in T-shirts and skatepunk shoes lugged their amps around the urban plateau of the greater Salt Lake area, and beyond (all the way to the Hudson River, as fate would have it) and splashed their rock canvas with a similar blend of inner and outer landscapes. In my car, past Pleasant View, I made the mistake of playing "Road Trip" again, to take me home. In this song, Brinton dabs minimalist notes and words like a plein air enthusiast cracking open his portmanteau of pigments at roadside on a desolate American highway: "Faded lines / Stretched to the sky / It's just the same design / Forever / Say your goodbyes / It's time to return back / To our former lives / Endeavors." At which point, I pulled off onto the shoulder and wept like a child.

At home, I sat in the car and listened to as many songs as I could before my wife came out and made me come in the house. Somewhere out on the road, I realized why I had felt so despondent.

It just wasn't fair.

We all know that the storage units and basements of the world bulge and rattle at every moment with the hopeful earthquake of garage bands that deserve larger audiences. But Hudson River School is not, and never will be, a garage band. When an amateur band forms and gives it a shot, we cheer from the aisles and wish them well. But when a band tries for nearly ten years (through college, work, marriage, family, and children) and when the music that band produces is really good, somehow we question the ethics of the universe. Anyone who listens to Hudson River School's music will conclude that their failure to secure a record deal is a reflection of the perverse and capricious standards of the popular music industry, rather than a commentary on the band's lack of creative talent. It's hard to say this, but in the end, Hudson River School might be better off not lumped in with the cookie-cutter, mail-order cliches that festoon and undermine contemporary music in America. Perhaps it is best that they won't share air time with all the moussed boy bands, cross-eyed emo jump-monkeys, and people who, rather than learn to play their instruments, feel the most musically remarkable thing they can do is streak buck naked through a ghetto in front of a prurient army of digital cameras.

So I've done something I've never done before. I've turned off my radio. All my Hudson River School CD's and EP's are set to perpetual autoplay in my car. Perhaps this is the final guerilla action that can deliver a breath of lasting justice. By not listening to the industry that wouldn't listen to my brother's band, I will replace the music of the moment with a river of enduring tunes.

Though much of what Hudson River School accomplished lies broken, buried, I will still believe in them and keep them in my sight.

2008-11-30T20:56:00.001-08:00

It's time for another edition of WHAT IN THE WORLD IS GOING ON HERE?

Whoever comes up with the most accurate answer will win free* family photographs courtesy of Jamie.

*Actual prize may vary. No purchase necessary. Offer good only if Jamie agrees to it. So most likely, offer is no good.

2008-11-21T06:28:00.001-08:00

Just two guys hanging out with their beards. Ain't nothing wrong with that.

2008-11-19T15:33:00.000-08:00

And now for another random look back in time. Idaho style.

Here is my high school band, Burnside. Incidentally the name had nothing to do with sideburns. In fact, if you look closely, you'll notice a sickly mutton chop trying desperately to happen on the side of my face.

2008-11-17T20:36:00.000-08:00

Lack of posts.

I apologize for my lack of posts. Lately, all my time has been focused on one thing.

Growing my beard.

2008-11-08T22:07:00.000-08:00

I'm married to a piece of work.

So, I'm sitting downstairs writing TV scripts for an upcoming project. It's about 9PM. The kids have been in bed for about two hours now. Hailey has been upstairs in our bedroom reading.

Suddenly, she comes downstairs dressed in some saucy lingerie. She makes sure she catches my attention, offers a devilish smile and then quickly runs back upstairs to our bedroom. Being the incredibly intelligent man that I am, I quickly Command + S my word doc, slam the laptop shut and hustle up the stairs after her.

All the lights are off. With the exception of two illuminated candles on the nightstand. Woo hoo!

Of course I play it super cool. I saunter on over.

She looks up at me and says, "Will you give me a back rub?"

2008-11-05T15:09:00.001-08:00

My little girl is growing up in the digital age.

Berlin has become quite computer savvy these days. Whether it's Starfall, PBSkids, or that Disney Penquin club thing she can't get enough. She even chats me up while I'm at work. You just have to learn to figure out her cryptic language. And for some reason she's obsessed with me bringing her home the little single serving cereals we have in our office.

2008-11-05T12:53:00.000-08:00

Glad for it to be over.

Sure, politickin' is exciting and all, but I'm happy to have it all over with. Last night I had to work late (surprise, surprise) so I watched the whole thing unfold from the office. In fact, if you look at this picture, you can see me watching the whole thing unfold.

2008-11-03T13:49:00.001-08:00

Baby Goats and Poopy Boots.

Yes, that is the title of one of many songs I have recently penned for the kids, thanks to my newest little bundle of joy - a Taylor 414CE guitar.

How did I come about said guitar you ask? Well, let's just say the stars aligned in perfect formation. You see, brand new, this guitar is not in "the budge." And after three months of diligently searching craigslist and ebay for one at a price I could afford, I found one.

The price was ridiculously low, so obviously I was skeptical. I sent a message to the seller.

Turns out it was a gift she had given to her husband last year. Two weeks later, they were legally separated. As soon as their divorce was official, she posted his guitar on ebay. Much to my giddy and glee.

I watched the auction closely and when there was ten minutes left, I placed my bid. Suddenly, all the other ebayers came out with their dukes up. I've been outbidded! Oh yeah, take that! You are the high bidder! That's right, suckers. You have been outbidded! D'oh!

Five seconds left!

SUBMIT BID!

WOO HOO!

HAILEY: What's all the excitement about?

ME: I just won an auction for the guitar I've been looking for forever!

HAILEY: Cool, how much?

ME: (mumbling price under my breath)

HAILEY: WHAT?!!?

2008-10-31T12:23:00.000-07:00

I voted.

About a week ago I saw a story on the news saying that over 11,000 mail-in ballots had been lost. Since I had requested a mail-in ballot and hadn't received it yet, I assumed mine was one of the lucky 11,000. Hailey had received hers, so clearly something was amiss, right?

Well, today is the last day of early voting here in Colorado. I still hadn't received my mail-in ballot and began to grow concerned thinking I'd have to fight the huge lines on election day next week. So I decided to head on down to my early voting location and tell them my story.

When I arrived, the line was already out the door. Easily an hour wait or more. I walked up to one of many very, very, very elderly people running the polling station and told him my dilemma. His hearing aid was wigging out, releasing a high pitch tone. I'm not sure he understood my problem, but he lead me past the giant line and into the voting area where he pointed to another very, very, very elderly woman sitting at a table.

I told her my story. She pointed to another very, very, very elderly woman sitting at a table that said STATION 3 above it. So off I went. Finally, this woman asked for my ID and began printing something off for me.

Suddenly, I had a ballot in my hands and was directed to the nearest booth to cast my vote.

But wait, what happened? I thought I was just trying to get some answers about my mail-in ballot. Instead, they just had me vote.

IN FRONT OF LIKE 75 OTHER PEOPLE IN LINE.

Total voting time: 12 minutes.

2008-10-27T14:52:00.000-07:00

I have bling all up in my grill.

Yes, that's right. Last week I received a shiny gold tooth. I am now part gangster, part pirate. Arrrggghh homie.

Hailey isn't very excited about my new bling. But in time, she'll grow to love the true thug of the open seas I was always meant to be. Hailey, batten down the hatches and let's get raise the rizzoof, yo!

2008-10-22T08:28:00.000-07:00

I survived the night.

As you can see from the previous post (below), last night was a challenge for me. But I'm proud to report that the sun came up and I'm still standing. Sorta like Elton John. I'm looking like a true survivor. Even after all this time.

In approx. 45 minutes, I will embark on my journey to the hospital. Once there, I will most likely be placed in a gown that freely exposes my backside. I will then hopefully be given some drugs to send me to La La Land. I hope I wake up to a smorgasbord of delicious food and good news. Stay tuned for updates.

UPDATE: 6:39PM
I'm just now starting to feel somewhat normal. I was pleasantly surprised this morning to learn I'd be the happy recipient of not one, but two scopes. One from down there and the other from DOWN MY THROAT! What the? Needless to say it was anything but comfortable. And while I was sedated, I was definitely aware of what was going on.

But I'm proud to report I survived. They took several biopsies so I'll learn of anything major in the coming week. From the naked eye, the report showed a generally healthy colon. They did, however, find something.

But they told me it's pretty minor.

A lot of people have it and it's something I shouldn't worry about.

2008-10-21T11:49:00.000-07:00

Well, this ought to be fun.

Folks, the time has come for Steve Happens to do what all men are encouraged to have done - get a Colonoscopy. I would simply like to warn my sensitive readers that the next few posts will undoubtedly dabble in subject matter consistent with this venture. For those of you who are adverse to such material, I've provided a helpful, informative, and cautionary itinerary.

Today is the fast.

Tonight is the cleanse.

Tomorrow morning is the scope.

Tomorrow afternoon is the woozies.

Tomorrow night is the weird walk.

UPDATE : 7:04PM
I have begun the cleanse process. The kind folks at the Trilyte company gave me the choice of five delicious flavor packs. How sweet of them. After much debate, I finally settled on Citrus Berry.

Unfortunately, I've been duped. Citrus Berry doesn't taste like citrus or berry, let alone a delectable combination of the two. Instead, it tastes like rotten death. But, in all fairness, I can see why they didn't go with Rotten Death as the name. The cute cartoony image on the front of the pack would've been difficult to illustrate.

UPDATE: 7:30PM
Discouragement quickly settled in as I realized just how repulsive the formula really is and just how much of it I have left to drink. I have to drink at least eight ounces every ten minutes until the entire gallon is gone.

UPDATE: 7:47PM
Hailey just informed me that my breath is less than desirable.

UPDATE: 8:02
Hailey made up for her insensitivity by purchasing me some Charmin Plus. She may have a husband with bad breath (from fasting all day), but she certainly won't stand for a husband with chaffing downstairs.

UPDATE 8:48PM
Pearl Harbor is on TV right now. Josh Hartnett was just shot down by the Japanese. He is dying in Ben Affleck's arms. Strangely, I can relate. I know exactly what Ben is going through right now.

UPDATE 9:15PM
Bon Jovi said it best. "Whoa oh, we're half way there. Whoa oh, we're living on a prayer. Take my hand. We'll make it, I swear. Whoa oh. We're living on a prayer. Living on a prayer."

I feel like Bon Jovi himself is singing directly to me. He knows what I'm going through and his lyrics are going to get me through this and see me through to the very end. Thanks, Bon!

UPDATE: 10:02PM
C'mon Bon. Carry me through this. I'm hitting the wall.

UPDATED: 11:01PM
And in the end, only one was left standing. Only one walked out of the ring.

2008-10-15T21:25:00.001-07:00

I'm Steve Happens and I approve this message.

I have to be honest here folks. I'm over all the political campaigning. I don't know if it's the fact that I can't go four minutes without seeing a political commercial or if it's the fact that the commercials are all saying the exact thing - "The person I'm running against is totally lame."

Now, I've never been interested in politics. In fact, I've only voted once in my life. And it was because Hailey made me. I also realize that voting is my civic duty and that I should probably do so. So, I am voting this year. But the last thing I want to do is get to punchin' out chads without having any real education or opinion behind said chad punchin'.

And the TV commercials aren't helping. They all sound exactly alike and say the same things. Everyone is bad. Everyone voted for bad stuff 93 times in a row. Everyone hates the middle class. Everyone will punch your kids in the face. Everyone wears ugly Christmas sweaters. On and on and on. So I'm basically left with the choice to only vote for bad people who make bad decisions and will ultimately crush my dreams. In a really bad way probably.

Well, I'll tell you what. I'm going to rise above all the mud slinging, the scandalmongering, the bad-mouthing and the you're a stinky doo doo head'ing. I'm going to base my entire presidential vote on the following three pieces of communication.

2008-10-08T08:54:00.001-07:00

Fun, fun, fun!

Hey everybody, look what I get to do! Yipee!

No, this isn't an incidental double post. I had to do this test twice. The fun never ends!

2008-10-07T20:39:00.000-07:00

Introducing the BabyMaker 3000.

Simply point your browser to BabyMaker3000.com to make your Volkswagen Routan baby. Hailey and I just made the official third installment to our family. Meet, Garth Joanne here.

Incidentally, I also had a baby with Wonder Woman.

2008-10-07T06:57:00.001-07:00

Fun, fun, fun!

Hey everybody, look what I get to do! Yipee!

2008-09-28T08:12:00.000-07:00

The end of Summer.

Yesterday, we loaded up the car and headed West into the mountains to connect with Mother Nature one last time before the snow flies. Our first stop was a fishing pond ironically named, Trout Haven. If it really were a haven for trout, we wouldn't have been able to pull them out, one after another, in a matter of minutes.

Berlin was a natural. Jamison, not so much.

It wasn't until after we were done that I realized the haven in Trout Haven actually meant it was a haven for their bank account. At a buck an inch, our easy-to-catch, surprisingly huge trout took a chunk out of the ol' pocket book.

We then headed off to our favorite family hiking spot, Lily Lake.

We took a family photo on an old, dead tree. James didn't approve of the composition.

Although wearing pants, James took to the lake anyway.

But we couldn't get mad at him with his defensive toothy grin. It successfully combats all parental aggression.

Berlin wanted her photo taken with this duck. Immediately afterward, James pelted it with rocks.

And that was our connection with Mother Nature. We came, we saw, we threw rocks, we injured, we gutted, we took a bunch of pictures, we left. See you next year.

2008-09-26T18:54:00.000-07:00

Oh behold the Fall Festival at Eagle Crest Elementary.

Tonight, Berlin's school held its annual Fall Festival - a carnival complete with bounce houses, food, games, dancing, various booths and of course, a cake walk. After we made the rounds, we decided to conclude our Fall Festival festivities with this time-honored festival affair. Now, for those of you who aren't familiar with the cake walk, it's very simple. Numbers are placed on the floor in a large circular pattern. Each child begins by standing on a number. When the music starts, they all begin walking from number to number in clockwise fashion. When the music stops, they stop. Then, a number is drawn from a hat and whoever is left standing on that number wins their choice of a cake.

Pretty simple, right? Seems like a great game for really small children, right? Makes sense that said game would be at the Fall Festival in an elementary school, right?

Then you can imagine my confusion as I watched my four-year-old daughter and about 15 other preschoolers walk from number to number alongside a much older, much huskier, much tank toppier, much raspier, much stretch pantier, much louder, much hungrier woman.

At first I thought, "Oh, she's just helping out with the children. But after six rounds with no wins, it was very apparent that she was, in fact, a full fledged contestant and steadfast on getting her a darn cake! As she yelled back and forth to her husband (who, incidentally had a billowy gray beard, coveralls and really bad breath), a very palpable sense of discomfort loomed over the other parents in the room. It would be safe to say there was an elephant in the room (seriously, I swear the pun is not intended).

Unfortunately, after several attempts, Berlin wasn't able to win a cake. But she was a great sport. More importantly, a great life lesson was learned by all.

If you're a rotund woman in your 40's, you might want to sit out the cake walk.

2008-09-21T20:30:00.000-07:00

Road Trip to Durango, CO.

Earlier this week, Hailey, Jamison, Berlin and I took to the road for what would be a weekend full of adventure. Of course, eight hours straight in the car with the kids is always an adventure. I drove. Hailey slept. James wigged out. And Berlin made up songs.

Once we turned off of I-25 and headed into the Colorado mountains, I was quickly reminded of why Colorado is so beautiful during this time of year.

After what seemed like a gazillion hours, we finally pulled into a small town called Pagosa Springs where a resort filled with natural hot springs beckoned us to spend the night.

After we had sufficiently soaked, it was back on the road to our final destination, Durango, CO. For those of you who don't know, Hailey's father, Keith, runs an outdoor outfitter there. They do raft trips, jeep tours, atv tours, and whatever else they can get people to pay for. Now, Keith is an interesting guy. For example, if you go visit Keith, you can expect to be put to work. I've shuttled paying passengers over summits, driven jeeps, handed out brochures and more. So, it was with little surprise we pulled up to see Keith's 85 year old mother from Idaho perched out front of the kiosk handing out brochures to people walking by. Somehow, we managed to avoid any major work-related duties this trip.

Perhaps one of the greatest parts of the trip was taking the ATVs way up into the mountains. I had Berlin with me and Hailey had James.

Hailey claimed she saw a bear. She got a little freaked out. Meanwhile Jamison kept saying, "I want the teddy bear!"

Now, a little more about this infamous Keith. He lives in what is called the "A-frame." Obviously, it is an A-frame structure. However, over the years, said structure has housed many a random employee, river guide, stray hitchhiker, etc. This weekend, it happened to house us. It goes without saying that I'm a bit of a neat freak and a little bit of a germaphobe. Incidentally I would be the first neat freak or germaphobe to stay in the A-frame. Now, I'm going to spare you the details as to why these accommodations weren't the most suitable for a person like me. Instead, I'll just show you a picture of a very old and very blue toilet. Last cleaned (accidentally) sometime in the mid 90s.

Finally, the time came for us to make the long drive back home. On the way, we discovered a hot air balloon festival.

Some balloon handlers found themselves struggling to maintain control of their collapsing balloon so Berlin quickly stepped in to lend a hand and tame the hot aired beast.

All in all, it was a super great weekend.

2008-09-12T22:22:00.000-07:00

Hudson River School | Rise & Fall

This record took way too long to finish, but we're proud to report that it's finally done. We're pretty proud of this little number and we hope you enjoy it. There are only a limited number of hard copies, but the digital downloads will keep on going 'til the break of dawn.

You can buy digitally HERE. I can hook you up with a hard copy for ten bones if you so desire.

All this sales talk reminds me of when the band released its first record about seven years ago. We played a CD release show in what used to be a movie theater in Trolly Square (Salt Lake City). Some opening band brought a fog machine and they wore leather pants. But nevermind that. Hailey and her friend, Jill, were in charge of selling the CDs out in the hall. As the show ended I remember walking back to the end of the theater and noticing that almost everyone was carrying multiple copies of our record. Obviously this was odd. Why would you need more than one? They're the exact same thing. Weird.

As I walked out into the hall, I noticed a large crowd gathered around waiting to purchase the record. And there was Hailey, in true salesman form. "Hey, these make great gifts. You better buy two." What the? Was she crazy? But even crazier, it was working. People were buying multiple copies from her.

It was in that very moment, right there in the hallway of an abandoned movie theater, that I knew I had picked the right one.

So if Hailey were making this post right now, she'd surely suggest you buy two copies of this new record. They make great gifts and, well, Christmas is just around the corner.

2008-09-10T20:15:00.001-07:00

There goes my hero.

Anybody who knows me knows I am a pretty darn huge fan of Dave Grohl and the Foo Fighters. Last night I was very fortunate to be able to see them perform for over two hours at the infamous Red Rocks Amphitheater courtesy of my older brother hooking me up with VIP tix for my birthday.

Poor Hailey was supposed to attend the show with me but at the last minute we had babysitter issues and weren't able to find a sitter. Fortunately, I was able to find some people I knew at the show.

After the rock had subsided, I got to go backstage and hang out with the band.

Yes, that was supposed to be Hailey on the other side.

Dave is a pretty funny guy.

This is where he told me that he thought the "bald look" was pretty cool and that he was considering. Dude, what? That's like riding a wheelchair for the fun of it!

As an added bonus I was also able to meet a true legend - Mr. Jake Burton.

It was an epic night indeed.

2008-09-06T22:18:00.000-07:00

Many of you know I spent the last eight years of my life in a rock band.

But what you may not have known is that in 2000, when we formed said band, I had hair and was skinny.

And wasn't afraid to strike a pose.

Unfortunately.

2008-09-03T08:38:00.001-07:00

Laborless Labor Day.

Well what can I say? This weekend absolutely ruled. It was the most free time I've had in a long time. And I enjoyed every minute of it. We finally got our good friends, the Jacobs, out to visit for the weekend. Berlin was so excited to see her best friend, Lauren. They went full throttle up until the very moment the Jacobs got into their car to drive home. Experience highlights include, Boulder Falls, Sunset Farms, neighborhood kids constantly in my house, clogged toilet, naps, Scooby Doo on repeat, Danimals overload, skinned knees, more kids who don't belong to me in my house and, of course, my world famous grilled chicken.

It was a great weekend indeed.

2008-08-24T06:38:00.000-07:00

Here we go again.

This Friday, Berlin went back to school. It's crazy how big she's getting. Just look at this post of her first day of school last year. Hard for me to believe that was just last year.

As you can see, Berlin is at that stage where she absolutely insists on dressing herself. The one thing I can't figure out is how she nails the 80's look so perfectly. Perhaps it's the popular 80's band of which she shares a name.

Whatever it is, something's definitely up. For her birthday, she asked for a Keytar.

2008-08-15T16:03:00.000-07:00

Planet RAW.

Last week I flew to Los Angeles to make some more TV commercials. I was a bit hesitant this time due to my new dietary constraints. Not being able to ingest gluten or dairy makes it extremely difficult to find food at home, let alone on the road. Hailey assured me that I would be able to find options because, "after all, it's Santa Monica." I figured she probably had a point. So off I went.

During one of my first days here I was informed by a Production Assistant of a restaurant right in Santa Monica (within walking distance of my hotel actually) that served nothing but gluten and dairy free items. Imagine my joy upon hearing this news. I was totally saved. I could just grab my food from there every day. And because it's an entire restaurant full of food I can eat, I could surely mix it up and create great variety. "This is gonna be great!" I said to myself repeatedly. The menu items looked great. Pesto Pizza. Lasagna. Western Double Bacon Burger. Chocolate shakes. Vanilla shakes.

It was as though I had found heaven. Gluten and dairy free heaven.

Well, today I ventured down to have me a hearty helping of said heaven. With a smile ear-to-ear, I walked in and asked for a to-go menu. I quickly settled on a Western Double Bacon Burger with a side of fries and a Vanilla shake. Now that's what I'm talking about!

The pale, skinny waitress with the sleeve tattoos smiled (revealing more tattoos inside her lips) and offered me a seat at the bar while my delicious order was being made. From this vantage point, I confidently smiled and surveyed the establishment. It wasn't until this exact moment that a spark of doubt entered my soul. Wait a minute. Something is amiss here. This place is filled with the most eclectic looking hippies I've ever seen, and I live in Boulder, the hippie capitol of the world. These hippies don't eat bacon cheeseburgers and milkshakes.

Hmm.

SUDDENLY a burst of warm breath entered my ear. I turned my head to see that a wiry zen girl had taken a seat right next to me (very, very, very close to me) and decided to sing to me. Yes. Sing to me. In a restaurant full of people. Just up and starting singing. Right into my ear. I mean, that's totally normal. Between moments of settled panic, I noticed the singing was a cross between something you'd hear at Lilith Fair and some Tibetan Monk chant. I quickly turned my head forward and just stared at the wall pretending that I hadn't noticed her. She just kept on singing.

As I turned back around, a tall, tan surfer looking guy handed me some form and insisted that I sign. As I failed to gather my wits, I offered up my signature. Later, I discovered that I had just helped save the Amazon.

Please keep in mind that I am not making this up. I really wish I were. But I'm not. But then again, it wasn't all bad, right Steve? I mean, soon you were going to walk out of that place holding a gluten and dairy free bacon burger and vanilla shake, right?

Right?

Now, I'm not exactly sure how to even describe the items that were placed before me. In fact, I won't. I'll let them speak for themselves. So, without any further adieu, I present to you the Double Western Bacon Burger. The side of fries. And the Vanilla Shake.

Yes, there are flower petals in there.

Even the fries had flowers in them. And bright yellow stuff. Lots and lots of bright yellow stuff.

Despite my combination of surprise and mortification, I decided to be a trooper. After all, Hailey has always told me my life could use some more adventure. Well, if this wasn't adventure, I don't know what is.

Oddly enough, the french fries tasted like seaweed. With a dash of dirt.

They say a man who can admit defeat is a man indeed. Well, sign me up. I done got whooped.

2008-08-10T18:56:00.001-07:00

I am cursed with flight delays.

If you are one of those people who, no matter what you do, just cannot make it to a flight on time I have your solution. Start booking the same flights as I do. If you do, you'll be guaranteed at least two hours of extra time, every time. So stop rushing out the door. Stop exceeding the speed limit. Stop pushing elderly people out of the way in the security check point line. Just book the same flight as me and all your worries will be taken care of.

Just sit back and... sit back... and sit back... and sit back... and sit back and... relax and eventually enjoy your flight.

However, if you do not need extra time and do not enjoy having your flights delayed, well then I suggest you book elsewhere. A certain someone here at the Denver International Airport who I shall refer to as, Marv, is certainly not a fan of the delayed flight. He's also not a fan of keeping his voice down or keeping his cool all together. It's as though Marv actually thinks that if he yells at the United Representative manning the counter the plane will somehow magically become de-delayed.

I'll let you know how this turns out.

UPDATE: 9:14PM - Almost boarded plane then they discovered a window needed to be replaced. Delayed again.

2008-08-05T12:38:00.000-07:00

The Boulder County Fair.

Yep, it's that time of year again. The Boulder County Fair rolled into town a few days ago and last night we partook of all there was to partake. Aside from it being a great educational experience for Berlin in subjects such as obesity, rat tails and naked lady tattoos, it was also just a lot of fun.

Hailey has yet to learn the lesson of if there is a face painting booth off in the distance that costs seven frickin' bucks you don't call Berlin's attention to it. Needless to say, we did face painting.

Despite having to shell out seven large to "Little Miss Pixie Dust Who Still Lives At Home," I had a difficult time refuting the beauty of her craft.

Next it was on to pony rides. Or mini horse rides. Whatever they are, Berlin's Southern Idahoan roots shown brightly through. She handled her steed with the skill and precision that would rival even the most accomplished Jerome Idaho Dairy Queen Rodeo Queen.

James, on the other hand, managed to keep his Idaho heritage at arms length. He approached his steed with more caution and hesitation. Luckily, Hailey was there to force him to stay on for the entire time, thus making it worth the inflated five bucks.

Jamison did, however, find some livestock more his size. While several 4H kids paraded their animals around in a circle to the acclaim of bidding slaughterhouses, Jamison found a little friend. A little, weird, oddly hairless and hornless friend.

Finally, it was time to hit the rides. And by rides, I mean the death contraptions that somehow fold out of a semi truck trailer. Held together with poor welding, wires and even duct tape, the fair rides are always a sure thrill. For Jamison, however, the little flying space ship ride was pretty sub par. Somehow his little two-year-old face looked up at us and said, "Seriously, guys? You paid three tokens for this?"

Berlin and I scored unlimited ride wristbands. Now, when I say "score" please don't confuse that with getting a good deal. Nothing could be further from the truth. Each wristband sung the tune of twenty bucks. Sadly, it's much more cost effective to shell out for the wristbands than attempt to go the ticket by ticket route. When one turn through a very simple jungle gym like obstacle course (slightly bigger than any given McDonald's playground) costs three tickets/dollars, the blows to the pocket book can really add up. Our first ride? The biggest of them all. The ferris wheel.

From the highest point, we tried to find James and Mom. Can you find them?

As the setting sun began to disappear behind the Rockies, we turned up the fun. Berlin and I took advantage of our unlimited ride access and tore through ride after ride. Often times, we wouldn't even get out of the ride to go get back in line. We'd just stay put and give 'er another go. Waiting in line is for suckers! Such was the case on the caterpillar roller coaster.

We dominated the haunted house. We wasted everyone in the bumper cars. We spun ourselves silly in the spinning bears ride thing. But perhaps nothing rivaled that of the...

...wait for it...

...wait for it...

SUPER SLIDE!

For those of you who don't remember, the Super Slide stole the show last year as well. However, last year was a little different than this year. I'll spare you all the details with this Cliff's Notes version.

Berlin was just barely potty trained.

We had just reached the top of the stairs.

Berlin begun doing the little "I gotta pee pee" dance.

My heart panicked.

In a fete of stellar quick thinking, I shoved some little kid out of the way, threw the gunny sack down on the slide, put Berlin on my lap and took off. It was the quickest way to get down.

However, sometimes the quickest way to get down isn't always the easiest way to hold your bladder.

As we reached the bottom where all the parents were gathered, Berlin jumped off my lap with a relieved smile. I stood up only to show the entire world a large wet spot right over my crotch. Yes, Berlin peed me. And to make it worse, she was in white jean shorts so nobody could even tell she was wet. I, on the other hand, was wearing khaki shorts which (for those of you who don't know) don't hide moisture or wetness in the least.

Hailey pointed and laughed.

Spectators followed suit.

My dignity stayed on the Super Slide.

But that was last year. This year was completely different. Nobody peed anything. And while the carnie manning the slide didn't speak a lick of english, she definitely understood the language of family fun as she let James join Berlin and I in unlimited slides. Needless to say, we went absolutely nuts. Like two hours worth of straight sliding nuts.

Nearly four hours and close to one hundred bucks later, it was time for us to call it a night. We stuffed our collective faces with cotton candy as we trudged back to the Subaru.

We had a grand time. Perhaps it's my many fond memories of attending the Jerome County Fair every year while growing up in Idaho. Perhaps it's the chance to hang with the underbelly of society. Maybe it's the cotton candy sugar high or the intoxicated ride operators. Whatever it is, I took a lot of pride as a father walking out of those fairgrounds last night. We came. We rode. We conquered. We went home. We left a significantly visible dirt ring around the tub.

See you next year, Boulder County Fair.

2008-07-29T20:08:00.000-07:00

Just what does a gluten-free and dairy-free pizza taste like?

Surprisingly, not too bad. Today for lunch I had a gluten and dairy free pizza from the very popular Beau Jo's Mountain Pizzeria. I believe the crust was made from corn flour, as it tasted a little like cornbread. The cheese was non-dairy cheese. This marks my two weeks of being a glactard. So far there is good news and bad news. The good news is, I have been feeling much better since I started this diet. The bad news is, I have been feeling much better since I started this diet.

Can't someone just invent a pill I can take in the morning with food. Food that is chock full of gluten and dairy?