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Eat.

Driscoll has, of late, been very interested in figuring out who, or what, eats. Initially we noticed that when the little fella would point out, say, a duck at the park, he’d say “Ducks! Ducks! Eat.” So we’d guess “oh, do you think they’re eating?” or “ah, you think they need to eat!”. Eventually, we came to realize (or believe, I suppose) that he’s identifying things that eat. Ducks eat. What a smart guy! He gets it!

Well, sorta. The set of things that eat continued to expand. The neighbor’s dog. The fish in the fish tank at a nearby preschool. The bus. The zoo. Hmm. Maybe he doesn’t totally get it. Then recently Kirsten was changing his diaper, and the guy found (as he sometimes does) his, um, peepee. You know, something kids do, totally normal. Anyway, Kirsten informs him that it’s called a penis. “Penis!”, says Driscoll. “Eat.”

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Merry Holidays!

“Time is of the essence.” Does that mean anything to you? Here at SD we’re confounded by it, it just doesn’t really say anything. Which may explain why this post about the Christmas holidays comes 1/12th of the way to the next Christmas.

Now, if all you know about us is what you read on this blog, you probably think that we share a house with my parents, and sister, and sister’s family. We don’t, but to continue that facade we packed up the family and flew down to Houston for the holidays, making December something like the 5th consecutive month in which we saw them. Despite the fact that they live 1/2 of the country away. Kinda creepy, really. We do have other friends.

Visiting Houston in winter is fun, because the weather there tends to be spring-y, while the weather here is often at its nadir. Plus, spending the holidays without family kinda feels weird and empty to me, though I’ll likely have to get used to it as holiday travel grows more complicated in the coming years. But that’s a worry for another year. On to Houston!

Want a taste of what the big day was like at the Strong household? Does it get any more fun than this? You get a good look at some of our presents as well. Kirsten made the broomstick ponies that Driscoll is modeling, and we had the “pie!” t-shirts screen printed in honor of Linney Pie. Oh, and our new camera definitely does something weird to my voice. There’s no way I sound like that big of a dork in real life.

Pie. Pie is of the essence.

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A couple of weeks ago, we SD minions headed out for a tropical getaway. What could be better than 10 days spent lounging on beaches in Hawaii, with family there to play with the little fella? Well, 10 days without illness would have been better. 10 days with 0 emergency room visits, that too would have been better. 10 days that aren’t reduced to 8 after you push out your flight due to a bed-ridden wife and kid, at a cost that dwarfs the entire SD annual budget… but, enough, so it wasn’t perfect. It was, actually, still very fun.

We tagged along with the genetics wing of the family, as my mom and brother-in-law attended an American Society of Human Genetics conference in Honolulu. We landed a sweet house on the beach near Waikiki, and spent our days getting tan, chasing rainbow colored fish, surfing, and eating too much Mahi-Mahi. Which are good ways to spend days. Well, half days, with naps and all. But anyway, see!

Until recently, it was SD corporate policy that all employees drive Subarus. How very Portland we are. And on a hipness scale we rated somewhere around… reliable.

We needed something. Some highlights, a nip, a tuck, some manscaping, and some draw-in abs; it was time for a makeover. Witness, the new Scion.

It’s little. It’s sporty. It’s got a stereo that talks to my ipod. It’s fun, and the mpg is somewhere near my age (which, unfortunately, is good).

Finally, our blog will appeal to that influential 18-24 demographic! The creative class! Because they want to see pictures of my kid and my sister’s birthday parties… right?

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Know what’s less fun? When you’re supposed to be in Hawaii right now, but everyone else in your family woke up sick. :(

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Beemans

Yes, 2 posts, 1 day!

Here’s a good one of me and the little fella, on the Shrollys’ deck.

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East Coast Swing

The staff here at SD just got back from some good, old fashioned R&R. Sipping mai-tais and watching sunsets? Trekking through parts unknown with our provisions on our backs? Ambling pensively through cosmopolitan avante-neo-something museums? No. We flew to Jersey. There we began our mission to parade the little fella through the throngs of Healeys in New York and New Jersey. And, aside from a lot of driving, it was darn fun.

Visiting Kirsten’s family is always an interesting affair, since (for those of you who don’t know) Kirsten is the youngest of 10 (TEN) kids. Here’s to Catholicism! As you can probably imagine, many of those kids have several kids of their own, so when they all get together it’s something like 237 people. Not really, but it’s in the 40s. So get-togethers tend to be raucous affairs, but it sure is easy to get a party together.

We’ll start with pics from the farm we visited in Randolph, NJ, near the home of Kirsten’s brother Steve (& family). In fact, in the last photo you can see Steve entering a barn.

Next we headed to Southampton, but apparently I was too awe-struck by hobnobbing with the haves to take any pictures. So you’ll just have to take my word for it. I really did have lunch at the Bathing Corporation of Southampton. Nothing says you’re elite like bathing at a corporation. Just look at me, I shower at Intel nearly every day! Anyway, I also knocked down a signature Rum Southside (both literally and figuratively, since I drank half then spilled the rest). Oh, and it was there that Driscoll decided it was time to start WALKING. 4 months later than all his pals, but who’s counting? Anyway, onward. From Southampton we unlocked our jaws, got some extra sun on our necks, and headed up-state to the Healey summer house on Canada Lake, in the Adirondacks.

For the Canada Lake virgins (me & D), there were a couple of traditions to learn when visiting. First, there’s the deer on the wall. Otis. He talks, remarkably like someone in the family. Someone never in the room, but possibly near the other end of the vent next to Otis. Next, there’s Uranus. Yes, the Healeys turned out to be quite a bunch of astronomers, though rather laser focused on just the one planet. Nonetheless, many evening hours were wiled away on the dock, discussing Uranus. “I could lie here all night gazing up at Uranus.” I didn’t have the nerve to bring up the fact that it really sounds like they are talking about “Your Anus”. They would have been mortified.

Anyway, it was great fun up there, as nieces and nephews haggled over who got to hold Driscoll next. This is not a luxury we have back home.

Thanks, Healeys, for hosting us newcomers! We look forward to visiting again soon!

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Last week we had lots of my family here in town. Larkin & Paul brought Linney up for a visit, and my parents followed shortly thereafter. Always thinking, I remembered to get the camera out on the last day. So my pictures are sorely lacking, save for Driscoll’s big visit to Jamison Square.

But first! Driscoll and Linnea share a seat on the glider. And one of them enjoys it!

Next, the trip with grandparents to the fountain. There’s not much cuter than a little 2-foot fella in board shorts and a rash guard.

Interestingly, we ended up sharing a bench (and conversation) with Portland superstar (which means minor league celeb) Storm Large. Turns out she’s super nice, looks 10 years younger than she is, and most importantly, Driscoll can forever say that he got naked with her.

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Kirsten takes many, many photos of Driscoll using her phone. Say what you will about the iphone (2G) camera, but she gets some cool shots. Have a look.

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Who hasn’t asked them, am I right? What parent out there hasn’t suspected that their spouse snuck out and conceived “their” child with someone else? Admittedly, it would be trickier for the dads out there to pull this off, but what with science and all, I bet it could be done.

With that in mind, I endeavored to determine, once and for all, who Driscoll’s parents really are. Scientifically. Let’s look at the evidence.

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This is Kirsten and Driscoll. So far, it’s looking likely that Kirsten is, indeed, Driscoll’s mother.

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Hmm. We both have pacifiers, though I don’t believe those are genetic. He does appear to have my hair.

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Driscoll has much more avocado on his face than did Kirsten at a similar stage.

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Ah, mouth breathers! These 2 (me and Driscoll) are clearly related.

Truth is, it’s a good thing Driscoll isn’t a dead ringer for either of his parents, because that might not have gone well…

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