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3.21.2005

Invisible Dogs in the House

I don't know what my daughter is trying to tell us, but she is insisting that there are two invisible dogs that live our house. Sometimes they are very tiny and can fit in the palm of her hand, other times they are quite large. One of the dogs is white and named "Pickles," the other one is either black or pink (depending on the time of day, I guess) and nammed "Fronnwich."

The inivisible dogs like to follow us into the parking lot, where Margot has to talk to them and tell them to get back into the house. "Good doggie, Pickles." I love that my kids are strange.

3.09.2005

Been a while since I've posted. I've been slack. And busy. My daughter's birthday is tomorrow. 1 year old. Damn, I'm a pro by now.

Yesterday, when giving the girls a bath, I had two rollouts. If you have ever had young kids, you might know what a rollout is. It's when a poop rolls out of the diaper and then you have to chase it over the linoleum with a piece of toilet paper and pick it up and dump it into the toilet. I should write a fathering manual. It'd be better than any I've yet to read.

I found out that my cousin was wrong about my grandfather's name. It wasn't Ben Cohen. He was my great-aunt's American GI boyfriend. My grandmother's GI Boyfriend was named John Callar (or Caller or Kaller or Kallar, still haven't gotten it straight). He was from Portland, Maine. And that's all I know about him. Couldn't find much online about him, no leads at all.

I have started a new blog that will help me maintain my interest in folklore and be somewhat productive with my degree. It's called Vernacular Culture and it's a hoot.

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