Actually, it's pepsi...

Brooklyn just came over to me, turned her eyes toward my open can of soda and said: "Daddy, Brooklyn can have some?"

"Sure", I replied. She quickly lifted the open can to her lips and began her little tiny toddler gulps. While she was taking a swig I asked, "Do you like daddy's soda, Brookers?"

Without removing the can from her lips, Brooklyn turned her eyes toward me and said, "Actually, it's Pepsi, Daddy."

Pretty darn cute... here are some pics...

We drove up to Utah for the Thanksgiving weekend. Here cousin Elizabeth and Brooklyn are looking particularly cute and neat, obviously before any food was served.

Here's Nonny with beautiful blue-eyed grandbaby, Annalise.

Based on the hat selection above, here are my guesses: Uncle Aaron as Freddie Krueger, Elizabeth as the Wicked Witch of the West and Brooklyn as Anne of Green Gables.

For Halloween Brooklyn dressed up as Dorothy (from the Wizard of Oz) and Brittiny was a soda shop girl. I was the Paparazzi, cause I had no costume and just took pictures all night.

He was flying high, like a paper bag caught in an updraft...

I remember pretty well Dad's version of being a soccer coach, which was to repeatedly remind us players: no matter how fast, big or strong you are, there's always someone faster, bigger or stronger out there. Mom used to say: never forget that you're unique, just like everyone else.

On my way home from the gym tonight I pulled into the local grocery store to pick up a few items. I walked over to the fruits and veggies section of Fry's, ripped off a couple of plastic bags from the spindle, and mulled around the fruist display near to a couple of large grapefruits. As I made my selections I placed each item in its own individual plastic bag and set them in my cart. Just then I overheard a young couple in the aisle next to me discuss their own purchases. The husband was arguing with his wife over a couple of items she wanted to buy.

"But these sausages are like five bucks for only eight of them... what about the other pack?"
"C'mon, those are gross, way too fatty. They're on sale because nobody wants them."

At that exact moment, eavesdropping on two strangers and holding a grapefruit the size of Dave Goff's torsional nut, it hit me, the rigamarole of it all. As different as we all are, we all do the same stuff throughout our lives. It's just the way it is.

You go to the grocery store and bag a bunch of fruit, you put it in your cart, you pull it out of the cart so it can be scanned, then the checkout bagger bags that already bagged fruit and puts it back into your cart, then you take your haul home and unbag all the items and toss the bags under the kitchen sink or in the utility closet or wherever.

Question: Joe Lieberman, James Bond and MC Hammer - what do they all have in common? Answer: They have to get their trash over to the local grocery store and bag some fruit once a week. Well, my boy Hammer probably bags the fruit more often, since he works there part time, but you get the idea. You can't get around it, it's just life. 99.9% of people in this nation are doing it, the bland, tedious mundane stuff of life because they can't afford to hire a butler.

Husbands across the globe are looking at their wives and thinking: why does your haircut cost 4 times more than mine? Wives all over the world are wondering: why is my husband so cheap? Parents all worry about their kids, especially when she says something so truly bizarre that you wonder if blasting Rage while she was in utero was a bad idea. Kids all think their parents are too strict, too old-fashioned, too lame and too cheap. Newsflash to the parents: your kids are on to something.

Amy and Aaron just had a baby. Congratulations. Well guess what guys, (ir)regardless of how well you put on that diaper - stretching out the diaper tabs so they'll seal off the lower back as an escape route, cinching up the sides such that the little poo-holding pouch is perfectly placed beneath sweet Hailey's not-so-sweet butt - YOU WILL HAVE BLOWOUTS! There will be times when you'll sit there peeling off Hailey's little cotton unitard, soaked with a pungent yellow-orange coating of colon-custard, thinking: I KNOW we didn't feed here this much junk today. Yeah, you did. It is what it is, and all parents deal(t) with this crap, pun intended. Pass the wipes, please.

I suppose what I mean to say is no one is unique. We all deal with the same problems, insecurities and imperfections. Life marches on until it stops marching, meaning we die. We're all mortal. Angela Bassett may have been Waiting to Exhale but she was also waiting to die. I don't mean to be grim, but standing in the grocery store made me think of all this, for some odd reason.

The only silver bullet we have is to live well (or live strong, if you're a Lance Armstrong fan). We can minimize risks and heartache by making ourselves right by the Lord and right by ourselves, aligning our own moral compass with God's will. The cool thing is that no one can take that accomplishment away from us. What we can't avoid is the tedium and insanity of life, and even if we could, what would be the fun in that? Maybe we just have to find the right things in life to live for... jackass!... Some pics of one of my "things" below...

Another Saturday night and I ain't got nobody...

Nevertheless, this Saturday was eventful - as eventful as any day can be in Yuma, I think.

First, we went to a local salon for pedicures. While Brittiny and I let our feet soak in hot water foot baths and enjoyed shiatsu massages (those are awesome) Brooklyn charmed the staff into a free manicure. She chose a light green coat with sparkles. - quite fetching.

After the salon we took Brooklyn to a ''Punkin" Patch put on by the Christian Fellowship church of Yuma. The setup was pretty sweet. They had a hay bale maze, horse rides, two inflatable trampolines for the kids and a 40 ft long pirate ship - well, a flat bed trailer made to look like a pirate ship. It's as if a late November union strike left Macy's Thanksgiving float department so hurting for scabs they hired Capt. Jack Sparrow.

Here's my Brookers running through the hay bale maze, sporting her Kurt Rambis goggles.

After Brooklyn picked out her pumpkin she got to ride a white horse. She seemed to enjoy it, but kept calling the horse a donkey. The handler said: That's better than calling her a puppy or cat, which is what most toddlers think. The horse stopped a few times to eat grass on the arduous, 95 foot stroll - so freaking lazy. Oh, and horse-shoes aren't even shoes, FYI.

So Brooklyn was jumping around in one of those big inflatable tramp-o-things when she noticed Brittiny eating a sno-cone. "Brooklyn have it?" she asked.

So at the Patch we selected three Pumpkins. Once the adoption papers cleared, we were able to take them home. Brittiny painted Brooklyn's pumpkin (very well, I might add) to look like Elmo. Brooklyn was very impressed, and reminded us about 40 times that her Pumpkin looked like Elmo.

The other two pumpkins were gutted and carved up, see below. The one on the left is Nancy Pelosi, on the right, Clint Eastwood.

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!!

I'LL EAT YOU UP!,,,

About a week ago I was reading Brooklyn her favorite Bedtime story, Maurice Sendak's Where the Wild Things Are, when she removed her binky abruptly, pointed to a particularly hairy and hunky-browed monster (inset) and said, matter-of-factly, "Daddy." Brittiny thought it appropriate that Brooklyn selected the hairiest of the Wild Things, remarking that she is a perceptive child.

I am still coming to terms with the realization that my daughter thinks I look like a half-bull, half-pig reject from the Island of Dr. Moreau. But tonight at least some of my insecurity was assuaged when, without any prompting, Brooklyn pointed to spread-toothed horned monster with the red nose of a wino and said, "Dat's Mommy." I remarked to Brittiny that our Brookers is a perceptive child. I dunno, maybe b/c that monster was hanging out with "Daddy" on every page Brooklyn got confused. But I guess if you're a hunky-browed, horned, hobbit-toed monster you've got to lower your own standards before heading out to the local bars to get your swerve on.

As not to be confused as one of the wild things making mischief of one kind (and another), here's a pic o'Brooklyn glamming it up for the camera at the be-zatch at Rocky Neck State Park, CT.

The Grouchy Ladybug....

Hi to anyone checking in on our blog. Admittedly, it's been quite a while since our last post. So what's changed, well, Brittiny is 2 months into her 1st year as a GMO (general medical officer) in Yuma, AZ. Having lived through July and August in the hottest city in the country, we're anxious for cooler weather this Fall and Winter. Yesterday was actually the first day since our July arrival that the temperature did NOT reach 100 degrees - it's been hot.

Not a whole lot to say, actually, life just goes on. Here are some pics:

Brittiny and I went to Cabo San Lucas for Shauntelle (Brittiny's good friend) and Micah's wedding. This pic is from a mildly disastrous yacht excursion we took. A lady next to me got seasick (for dinner she apparently ate something containing green beans), a 3 year old kid was almost swept overboard by a crashing wave and our crew kept Bogarting the karaoke microphone to remind us all how poorly tourists typically tip in Mexico. I didn't want to make liars out of the crew, so I left a really shoddy tip myself. The guacamole was good, however, assuming you manage to keep it down.

Somehow, someone got Elizabeth and Brooklyn to share a seat at Nonny and Poppa's. Turned out to be a cute pic. We wish they could see each other more often...

Here Brooklyn shakes "Panna's" hand... er, paw. Panda is thrilled, clearly.

This pic was taken the day that Dad and I arrived in Utah after 40 hrs on the road from Connecticut. Though I missed my cute baby and hot wife during the trek, Dad and I had a great road trip: we bonded over golf, dined on garbage, stopped for a night at Uncle Doug's and searched in every freaking podunk town from New Haven to Salt Lake for health food stores where Dad could get "good trail mix" and "non-sugary green tea". When did Dad cease being Dad? Lincoln without his stovepipe hat, OJ remiss the bloody glove or Andy Rooney sans a tube of Ben-Gay... more shocking, still, is Dad without junkfood. He's come a long way since the days when, driving a hostess fruit pie wrapper-laden Mitsubishi Mighty Max, he was routinely mistaken as being "sponsored" by the company itself.

Cavorting with Brooklyn and Elizabeth. Fun stuff...

For Brooklyn's 2nd Birthday Brittiny went all out, including hiring a clown: Biggles or Buggles or whatever. For the record, I hate clowns. They scare the hell out of me. I remember when I was a kid the TV series Stephen King's IT passed a couple of nights on Channel 5. The show had this scary clown that kept killing kids for some reason, or for no reason, I can't really remember, except the clown turned into a giant spider or something... Anyway, just ask Kevin Larson, he remembers how much that show freaked us both out.

The clown Brittiny carefully hired wasn't homidical, but she did charge $150/hr. Why did I bust my hump to get through college when the real money is in being a clown? Ms. Biggles actually asked me that same question. She came inside our living room, did a 15 minute magic show (I've seen better magic at the Farley Family Reunion) and packed up her stuff to leave. I told her that since we had paid for the whole half hour she could choose: option 1) entertain the kids a while longer, or option 2) there was a sponge and a bottle of Softscrub in the guest bathroom. She chose to flip me the bird and leave, which I suppose was option 3. I hate clowns.

Oscar was a young otter...

...and Brooklyn doesn't like to hear about him. Every time I try to read her Oscar the Otter, my favorite children's book, she says, "Noooooo," whilst shaking her little noggan. Brooklyn empasizes her negative replies by holding the note. From a quick "no" one can't really infer she's not cool with something, since she says no pretty much to everything. However from a long drawn-out "noooooooooo" you know she really doesn't like something. One of her little quirks.

Anyway, Brookers is in Utah. Brittiny left her there with Mom and Dad and flew home to CT. We hear that Brooklyn has really been enjoying herself on her extended stay and extra time spent with all her Gparents, Aunts/Uncles and cousins. That said, Brittiny and I are really missing her and anxious for her safe return on Wednesday. That said, we're having a really nice time w/o her, though I hate to admit it. We've been able to accomplish a lot this past week and SLEEP a decent stretch as well. It only took us about 40 mins to be ready for church, a record in the post-Brooklyn era.

Here are a bunch of pics that we've been meaning to post. Enjoy... or, if you're think we're an ugly family, don't enjoy.

Brooklyn in New Hay Hay's Wooster square. She got tired chasing around lots of squirrels. If you remember, we got no deal with the squirrels!

Brookers standing at the top of her li'l tikes slide, sporting a Sundress courtesy of the Boofay Ltd. summer collection.

Brooklyn standing in from of our Apt, looking at something. Sometimes she looks to me like a miniature teenager.

Here is Brookers and me, moments after I arrive home from work. Seriously, better than anythin in this world is her shouting "Dah-dee!" as she runs toward me with her little outstretched arms.


OOOOhhhhh, I almost forgot. My friend, Phil, introduced me to a really great newer singer/songwriter: Paolo Nutini. Definitely chk out this video of him singing my personal fav, These Streets. http://youtube.com/watch?v=swIKGLqIitI

Buncha old pics I never posted...

... so check them out and feel free to leave bawdy comments at the bottom. Kellie Redman, I'm thinking specifically of you:

Brooklyn, Brittiny and our Christmas tree. Yeah, it's April, so we should probably take that tree down. But if we wait long enough it'll be closer to Christmas '07 than '06, so we can just leave it up, right?

For an Epperson family Christmas tradition we're going to build a cake...er, I mean, gingerbread house as part of an FHE activity. The above picture is the first installment of said tradition. Brooklyn loved it because she got to eat a lot of candy. How much candy, you ask? Her dukie that night smelled of peppermint.

Brooklyn will someday be a double-fisted drinker. For now, it's double-fisting the binkies...

This is the evening I got back from London/India. Brooklyn was so sweet to me, she kept yelling "DAH-DEE, DAH-DEE!!" and running around the living room.



Brooklyn in her Indian digs. She looks really cute in this outfit, kindly purchased for her by Sushila Pradhan of UBS, Hyderabad branch. Once the weather gets a little warmer, we'll dress up Brooklyn and take her to the DQ for a nice dinner.





So one Sunday afternoon after church Brooklyn and I surprised Mom by visiting her at the Hospital. Well, we took over some lunch and played around in the lobby area waiting for her to come down to eat. Brooklyn took to running in circles around the large fountain centrally located in the lobby. I ran around with her. At one point, she became a little dizzy and sort of fell backwards into the fountain. She was shocked: the water was cold! I reached into the fountain and pulled out my baby girl, soaked from head to foot and sporting a now 11 lb. diaper. Brittiny was surprised when she came downstairs to find the two of us--me in church clothes and Brooklyn working that nostalgic hospital baby blanket look. On the bright side, we eventually got this sweet Yale New Haven Hospital t-shirt from one of the Ped's nurses. Brittiny doesn't let me watch Brooklyn alone any more.

Here's a pic of Sheree and Brooklyn when they went snowmobiling. Baby car seats look really funny strapped to snowmobiles. Wait, I think they went sledding.

Brooklyn and Henry are down with Baby NCMO, and this picture is the proof.

Why does Jersey have all the toxic waste dumps and New York all the Attorneys?...

Jersey got first pick...

So what's been going down? Guess not too much. Brooklyn gets a little cuter every day. She also gets a little heavier. I picked her up and tossed her toward the ceiling - she's one heavy punk. The other day as I prepped her for her bath (eg, chased her naked butt around the upstairs) I noticed that what junk she lacks in the trunk she makes up for in her baby gut. The baby gut is a strange phenomenon. It's as if the baby's midsection has hit middle-age all by itself. Any ways, here are some pics:

This is Brooklyn hanging out with Laila Haraj-Sai. Brooklyn pretty much plays all the time, hangs out with friends, lets other people bathe her, change her clothes, etc. Someone tell that freeloading kid to get a job already...

Here's a pic of me at Tower Bridge, the Thames river below. You can tell from the photo that it was raining. I was in London a total of 33 days. It rained on me 32 of those days. No kidding. It rained on me so much that I was reluctant to take a shower.

Tower of London in the background. It's a really old castle that was once home to the Royal family or the Flintstones or Hugh Grant - I wasn't really clear on what my tour guide was saying because I was still adjusting to his thick accent. I asked at the front desk if they had a tour guide who spoke AMERICAN and trust me, that didn't go over very well. Did you know the ToL's guards were called Beefeaters because in the olden days they had to taste the King's food for poison - and you thought your job sucked?!

Behind me is the State Capitol building where Charlonian's Ball is held. Every May teenagers get dressed up in tuxes and/or gowns, rent convertible mustang's from Hertz and try to get their car to roll UP gravity hill (for the non-Utard's this won't make any sense). No, seriously, it's St. Paul's, a very, very cool old cathedral.

This is the view from St. Paul's. I tried to get a picture of the Gherkin - an odd rocket-shaped bldg not far from UBS - so you could see this freaky thing, it's pretty cool.

I harp on this building b/c my first couple of days in London I was completely lost getting around. People kept giving me directions based on the Gherkin. I was too polite or embarrassed to say: Sire, just show me on the map where I have to go because I have no idea who this guy Gerkin is or where he hangs. Instead whenever someone would gesticulate wildly off in some direction, then another, then another, then another, and say "... you'll see the Gherkin on your right and Bob's your uncle", I would just nod and say, "Oh, yes, next to the Kurklemin, perfect, cheers" and walk away purposefully in the direction where the guy first pointed. It sometimes took me an hour more to get to the Gherkin which was actually so close to the UBS building that they shared a bus stop. But at least I didn't have to be man-shamed by admitting I was lost, which is bad, but as a note to any ladies out there: the only thing worse than a man having to ask for directions is having to ask for an follow-up explanation of someone's directions, no matter how confusing they were in the first place.

Oh, then after a couple of days schlepping around I figured out that the Gherkin was this building (infra) what I had walked past every day and had secretly titled: what Michael Jackson would build if he had become an architect instead of a weirdo: