When in Denver

Yesterday (today) I arrived in Denver to do a wedding around 1:30 am due to extreme weather. By the time I got to the rental car place, they only had Hummers and Yukons left even though I reserved miniature econ-car. I picked the Yukon. I just couldn't image me on the freeways of Denver in a Hummer. This seems to be a trend. Last month it was a 13 passenger van in downtown DC. What's with rental companies and bad midnight planning? 

Had I known a day in advance that I would be driving something the size of my HOUSE I would have planned on sleeping in the car. Maybe I would have parked it across the street from the temple. I have to admit, it was a pretty sweet ride, but 80 miles cost me $16.60 in gas! 

Next time I should just rent the Hummer and maybe when I show up at midnight, they will give me a mini. You know how it is.

Box Kid

The other night I came home to find Zina out cold inside a box on the floor of Marco's office. It was pretty much the best thing I have seen in a while. 

I still can't figure out if it was Zina's idea or Marco's newest babysitting brainstorm. Either way, I think it appealed to me because it evoked the emotion of staying in a really small hotel room. Maybe this will be a new Japanese trend? This might be just what overnight flights will start using to help passengers sleep. It's a good idea, don't you think?

 

I tried to rouse her but she wasn't having any of it. I love the look of deep REM on a baby's face. (She's still my baby.) When is the last time you fell asleep in a cardboard box? 

This just might the answer to my insomnia!! I'll let you know tomorrow.

Katie should teach Jazzercise

I totally lifted this post from Katie. I get all my best material for this blog from her. See, that's the beauty of having step-kids. Now if I could just get her to buy one of these unitards!

Daddio-patio

I remember the first time I met Marco in 1997. I had just finished playing a show with Kristen the fiddler and Matt Harding at the Madson BYU recital hall. It was one of those slam packed -- Steve Young had to sit on the steps -- cheering throngs -- hit every note kind of shows. After the show, this all too eager dad with three daughters guy came back stage to say hello. (The truth is they all came back stage to meet Kristen. Everyone always came back stage to meet Kristen -- but that's a story for another day.)

Marco had this huge smile and three kids under his arms and invited the whole band over to the Davis house for a bodhran (celtic drum) workshop and some good eats. I still see him in my minds eye, oozing with enthusiasm for kids, music and a good party. I was 27 that summer and best described by my friend Tennessee John in a conversation with my dad. "Max, you can't stop the wind."

It took me a while to stop blowing around and finally park my trusty Suburu in a not so exotic cul-de-sac in north Orem. It wasn't New York or even the avenues of SLC. The man didn't have an accent or genetically blessed with sufficient pigment from some foreign gene pool. The house was Victorian -- sort of. The dishes didn't match and his living room was always piled in cardboard boxes full of Fiddlesticks CD being shipped or returned from some LDS bookstore. But, for some reason, all my girlfriends from those years will tell you that I was madly in love. Marco was my imaginary boyfriend. I was dazzled and mostly, I remember, because he was a fantastically terrific dad. Ours is a romantic story that I love to tell people.

Here's a couple of Marco loves, not in any particular order.


He loves traveling with his kids ...





He loves playing music with his kids ...


He loves seeing his kids happily married and being good husbands and wives ...







He loves being a grandpa ...



He really truly madly loves his goofy sons-in-law.

(He especially loves them with their guns, butter and Mr. Rodger's gang signs!)

He loves making ethnic food even when he travels and drinking real Mexican coca-cola ...


He loves me ...


He loves telling "times" and when Xanny sleeps in his armpit (sorry, no picture).


and if you wondering what to get him for Father's Day, he loves a good Three Minute Hug.



happy father's day!

My good friend and neighbor, Amy, has a gift. She has an efficiency with words that gets right to the heart of things -- she doesn't beat around any proverbial bushes. This morning as I am surveying the ruble that once was my put together house (and I mean hurricane of a mess), I am reminded of one of her more classic lines ...

"Andi, the difference between you and I is that my house is clean and your kids like you."

Pretty much spot on today!

Pick One and Come to Dinner (next year)

Just for the record, I like #1.

thoroughly rosie jo

Guess who was in town last week ... ROSIE!! Basically, the camera loves this child. We chased (and I do mean chased) the last drop of sunlight in the backyard. This kid is in motion all the time.

Twirl with a half flip (of the hair, anyway.)

Pink puffy blur across the grass.

Total delight!

We had a ball, but I think our next photo-shoot definitely needs to involve palm trees and a beach somewhere in Hawaii. (Becca already offered to run a tropical summer camp for the kids!) Who's in for a trip to paradise?