Monthly Archives: April 2011

‘Spirited Child’ Doesn’t Even Cover It

Child Harbat has so much energy I can almost see the food being burned up inside her when I look in her ear, like the viewport on a blast furnace.  One of the games she still enjoys playing is “Baby

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Bring Your Daughter to Work

Today is National Bring Your Daughter to Work Day.  I can’t figure out if there’s a corporation that benefits from this, in the crass way that the greeting card and boxed chocolate cartels have inflated Valentine’s Day, Mother’s Day, and

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Easter 2011

As you age you forget the simple joys of Easter:  the Easter bunny, baskets of goodies, egg hunts, and frilly dresses.  That last one I really miss, as a young lad I had many crinoline and taffeta Easter get-ups.  No,

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Pecha Kucha 2011

Last night I tried to explain to people why I love baking bread.  It was the Pecha Kucha San Diego night #11 and folks were packed into the lounge at the W Hotel to hear on subjects ranging from car

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Children and Death

How do you explain death to a child when you understand so little about it yourself? Last night I found myself struggling to come up with an easy way to broach the subject with my daughter, a three-and-a-half year old

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Is the Sourdough Done Yet?

No.  The sourdough is not done yet.  Always a work in progress, always a project that keeps me busy, the sourdough is getting close but might never be there.  Good.  I would feel so empty inside if it was done,

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Ode to My Daughter’s Hair Part Two

For three years Child Harbat has watched while girls her age have grown our long Rapnuzel hair while hers has remained stubbornly short.  Her hair has transformed from short downy to short spikey to short and fine and flat to

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Cold Turkey Needs a Warm Cup of Milk

Jesus, what a fiasco.  Since the dentist told us ten days ago that Child Harbat’s pacifier had to go we’ve been a world of withdrawal.  Without her familiar soothing mechanism, CH has been on a ten-day bender, all manic with

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My Wife the Bunny Rescuer

I’m not a cat person.  Between the can’t-be-bothered haughtiness, spraying on the walls, yowling to be let out, and desire to climb on your head, I can find better forms of companionship.  But now I can add a new reason

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Scottish Highlands and Jungle Lowlands

I know all my readers must be exhausted from the weekend of festivities, partying, and odes to uncontrolled Bacchanalia in the streets.  What, you don’t celebrate Tartan Day?  On Saturday there was a Tartan Day celebration in Balboa Park here

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