Photo ©2011 Garrito
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
Sunday, July 24, 2011
Matrimonial Blitz, Day 3: Cue Kool & The Gang (Continued)
OK, now where were we? Oh, right...
It was a day of celebration.
Dash was wearing his best khakis. His only khakis. Why, there they are peeking out from his nursing cover, shortly before the festivities were to begin.
While Daddy was snapping shots of his hungry son, a frantic knock came at the nearby front door. No one was around, so Daddy, not one to turn away prospective wedding crashers, opened it.
Daddy's first thought was, What's an angel doing in the middle of upstate NY on a Saturday evening? Oh, wait. It was the bride. Tahl. Easy mistake.
Soon thereafter, the crowd started congregating behind Cousin Daniel's stunning farmhouse.
The groom, Bryan, on the right, his back to the camera, stood by the chuppah (Hebrew for "they did WHAT with the good linen?!") awaiting his bride.
Among the celebrants, Cousins Beau and Guy (this weekend marked the first time all first cousins have ever been together -- more about that on Day 4) joined Daddy's daddy, Grandaddy Don.
Suddenly, there was a stirring in the crowd. It might have been a hush. Daddy can't remember. Point is, the bride had begun her wedding march. Looking even more angelic with her veil, Tahl was accompanied by her beaming parents, Uncle Seymour and Aunt Harriet.
Uncle Seymour raised Tahl's veil, exposing the entire wedding party to possible beauty blindness.
Following Jewish tradition, the bride then circled the groom seven times, presumably to check out the merchandise one last time.
Bryan easily passed with flying colors (which begs the question: which colors do and do not fly?). The ceremony continued.
Meanwhile...on the sidelines...Uncle Bozo was busy living up to his name. (Be sure to click on the photo, and then again to zoom in, to fully appreciate his "special occasion" clown nose.)
Back on the main stage, Bryan put his moves on a married woman while Aunt Harriet officially hit the "start" button on her grandchild stopwatch. (Tick tick, Tahl.)
Mommy, Daddy, and Grandma Laurie posed, while Dash gave a tug at what appears to be Grandaddy Don's braided chest hair.
Daddy gave Dash a better view of the celebration. Maybe a little too good a view.
Then came the reception, and oh what a reception it was. Now Daddy has been to quite a few receptions -- even a few of his own! -- and he has come to learn that far too often, it's actually a DE-ception. You know, when the couple thinks no one notices the blah dinner and schmaltzy music? But Daddy digresses. Bryan and Tahl know how to throw a hell of a wedding. It certainly helps that the groom is a Foodie.
The newlyweds wasted no time setting the tone for the evening.
Before you could say "mazel tov," a hora broke out.
Hava Nagila is not Hava Nagila until someone gets chaired. Up went Bryan and Tahl.
Up went Uncle Seymour.
Up went Aunt Harriet, who clearly looked forward to her return to Earth.
And the band rocked on.
Then came the media blackout while Daddy gorged himself. Well, took turns with Mommy gorging and tending to His Dashness. Toward the end of the evening Daddy once again wielded his smartphone, just in time to catch a rare sight: Uncle Bozo dancing. He must have thought he was wearing his oversized clown shoes, 'cause all he seemed to be doing was swaying back and forth with Aunty Dianne.
Daddy wishes they WERE clown shoes. Maybe then Uncle Bozo wouldn't have needed him to help take off his oh so nasty boots before heading back to Motel Smell.
Next up: Day-After Brunch and Dash follows his animal instincts.
It was a day of celebration.
Dash was wearing his best khakis. His only khakis. Why, there they are peeking out from his nursing cover, shortly before the festivities were to begin.
While Daddy was snapping shots of his hungry son, a frantic knock came at the nearby front door. No one was around, so Daddy, not one to turn away prospective wedding crashers, opened it.
Daddy's first thought was, What's an angel doing in the middle of upstate NY on a Saturday evening? Oh, wait. It was the bride. Tahl. Easy mistake.
Soon thereafter, the crowd started congregating behind Cousin Daniel's stunning farmhouse.
The groom, Bryan, on the right, his back to the camera, stood by the chuppah (Hebrew for "they did WHAT with the good linen?!") awaiting his bride.
Among the celebrants, Cousins Beau and Guy (this weekend marked the first time all first cousins have ever been together -- more about that on Day 4) joined Daddy's daddy, Grandaddy Don.
Suddenly, there was a stirring in the crowd. It might have been a hush. Daddy can't remember. Point is, the bride had begun her wedding march. Looking even more angelic with her veil, Tahl was accompanied by her beaming parents, Uncle Seymour and Aunt Harriet.
Uncle Seymour raised Tahl's veil, exposing the entire wedding party to possible beauty blindness.
Following Jewish tradition, the bride then circled the groom seven times, presumably to check out the merchandise one last time.
Bryan easily passed with flying colors (which begs the question: which colors do and do not fly?). The ceremony continued.
Meanwhile...on the sidelines...Uncle Bozo was busy living up to his name. (Be sure to click on the photo, and then again to zoom in, to fully appreciate his "special occasion" clown nose.)
Back on the main stage, Bryan put his moves on a married woman while Aunt Harriet officially hit the "start" button on her grandchild stopwatch. (Tick tick, Tahl.)
Mommy, Daddy, and Grandma Laurie posed, while Dash gave a tug at what appears to be Grandaddy Don's braided chest hair.
Daddy gave Dash a better view of the celebration. Maybe a little too good a view.
Then came the reception, and oh what a reception it was. Now Daddy has been to quite a few receptions -- even a few of his own! -- and he has come to learn that far too often, it's actually a DE-ception. You know, when the couple thinks no one notices the blah dinner and schmaltzy music? But Daddy digresses. Bryan and Tahl know how to throw a hell of a wedding. It certainly helps that the groom is a Foodie.
The newlyweds wasted no time setting the tone for the evening.
Before you could say "mazel tov," a hora broke out.
Hava Nagila is not Hava Nagila until someone gets chaired. Up went Bryan and Tahl.
Up went Uncle Seymour.
Up went Aunt Harriet, who clearly looked forward to her return to Earth.
And the band rocked on.
Then came the media blackout while Daddy gorged himself. Well, took turns with Mommy gorging and tending to His Dashness. Toward the end of the evening Daddy once again wielded his smartphone, just in time to catch a rare sight: Uncle Bozo dancing. He must have thought he was wearing his oversized clown shoes, 'cause all he seemed to be doing was swaying back and forth with Aunty Dianne.
Daddy wishes they WERE clown shoes. Maybe then Uncle Bozo wouldn't have needed him to help take off his oh so nasty boots before heading back to Motel Smell.
Next up: Day-After Brunch and Dash follows his animal instincts.
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
His $50,000 Smile
Dash no longer resembles cowboy actor Gabby Hayes, particularly in the mouth area. He cut his first tooth on Saturday. Not quite a million dollar smile yet, but those nineteen other baby teeth should add up quickly. Here he is flashing Mommy his pearly white during a picnic at the Rose Garden.
Let's move in for a closer, somewhat more disturbing view. Say "aaaaaahhhhh." (It's his upper left front tooth, in case it's not so obvious.)
Let's move in for a closer, somewhat more disturbing view. Say "aaaaaahhhhh." (It's his upper left front tooth, in case it's not so obvious.)
Photos ©2011 Garrito
Thursday, July 7, 2011
Matrimonial Blitz, Day 3: Cue Kool & The Gang
It was a day of celebration for Cousin Tahl and Bryan as they tied the proverbial knot. I believe it was a Windsor, as this was a classy affair. Classy, yet casual, so the tie was loosened and the top button was opened.
But first, earlier in the day, before any knot tying, before watermelon mojito slurping, before a hava nagila frenzy, came the diner. Like bagels and pizza, a trip to the NY area wouldn't be complete without a stop at a real diner. Dad's Copake Diner was a nice substitute, even if it wasn't of the 2,000 page menu/24-hour/surly waiter variety.
The Colen/Blackadder/Yaffe/Ryder clan was accompanied by Uncle Bozo's old friend, Ron, who had the audacity to show up in a NY Yankees shirt*. (Yellow, naturally. Hah!)
Not on the menu, but still delicious to Dash, was Grandma Laurie's purse.
Grandma Laurie finally got her purse back, and was happy to find a baby still attached.
Uncle Bozo, not wanting any photographic record of Aunty Dianne's "accidental" black eye, used his soft-serve ice cream to hide the truth. (Exhibit A: Wife-beater t-shirt.)
Meanwhile, as Aunt Debby nodded off and Grandaddy Don relayed to Ron the latest tennis scores, Grandma Laurie not-so-stealthily stole someone's dessert.
Mommy made Dash wonder what someone has to do to get fed around this joint.
Finally, Dash said, "Enough with this stupid diner sidebar. Get back to the damn wedding story."
Right, the wedding. It was a day of celebration.
The forecast called for thunderstorms, but Mother Nature arrived with the perfect wedding gift: sun.
(NOTE: FOR SOME REASON, THE REST OF THIS POST WAS NOT PUBLISHED AND THE TEXT HAS DISAPPEARED. DADDY IS WORKING TO REWRITE IT. ARRRRGGGHHH!)
But first, earlier in the day, before any knot tying, before watermelon mojito slurping, before a hava nagila frenzy, came the diner. Like bagels and pizza, a trip to the NY area wouldn't be complete without a stop at a real diner. Dad's Copake Diner was a nice substitute, even if it wasn't of the 2,000 page menu/24-hour/surly waiter variety.
The Colen/Blackadder/Yaffe/Ryder clan was accompanied by Uncle Bozo's old friend, Ron, who had the audacity to show up in a NY Yankees shirt*. (Yellow, naturally. Hah!)
Not on the menu, but still delicious to Dash, was Grandma Laurie's purse.
Grandma Laurie finally got her purse back, and was happy to find a baby still attached.
Uncle Bozo, not wanting any photographic record of Aunty Dianne's "accidental" black eye, used his soft-serve ice cream to hide the truth. (Exhibit A: Wife-beater t-shirt.)
Meanwhile, as Aunt Debby nodded off and Grandaddy Don relayed to Ron the latest tennis scores, Grandma Laurie not-so-stealthily stole someone's dessert.
Mommy made Dash wonder what someone has to do to get fed around this joint.
Finally, Dash said, "Enough with this stupid diner sidebar. Get back to the damn wedding story."
Right, the wedding. It was a day of celebration.
The forecast called for thunderstorms, but Mother Nature arrived with the perfect wedding gift: sun.
(NOTE: FOR SOME REASON, THE REST OF THIS POST WAS NOT PUBLISHED AND THE TEXT HAS DISAPPEARED. DADDY IS WORKING TO REWRITE IT. ARRRRGGGHHH!)
A hero vanquished?
Captain America stands proud. Maybe a little too proud for some.
The demented Doctor Daddy hatches an evil plot to crush Captain America's head.
Can this be the end of Captain America? Has he really dirtied his final diaper? Tune in for the next exciting webisode.
Hair by Two Follicularly Challenged Grandfathers
The demented Doctor Daddy hatches an evil plot to crush Captain America's head.
Can this be the end of Captain America? Has he really dirtied his final diaper? Tune in for the next exciting webisode.
Photos ©2011 Garrito
Shirt by Uncle Bozo and Aunt ClarabellHair by Two Follicularly Challenged Grandfathers
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
Matrimonial Blitz, Day 2: Rocky Road to Rehearsal
It was a Donut Day (or, since we were in the NYC Metro area, we'll call it a Bagel Day): Delicious on the outside, a dark pit of dreadful despair in the middle.
The day started out innocently enough. The weather was looking much nicer than the original thunderstorms predicted. Mommy, Dash, and Daddy got some good sleep after a long evening. Then the boy got to bond with his paternal grandparents, Grandaddy Don and Grandma Laurie.
Dash got to meet Aunt Debby for the first time (Skype notwithstanding).
After a little nosh for lunch -- because that's what you do in the NYC Metro area, especially when bagels are involved -- we were on the road to Tahl and Bryan's rehearsal dinner upstate. Then the Bronx had to go and ruin everything.
The trip up to Hillsdale (home of the posh Holiday House Motel, assuming you count an extra screen door as "posh") was supposed to take two hours. In reality, on a Friday, the first Friday of summer, some delays are to be expected. The first 13 miles of our 113 mile trip, spent mostly on the dreaded Cross Bronx Expressway, took two hours alone. To put that in perspective, Daddy used to run that distance -- a half marathon -- in 1:20ish.
Dash could have almost crawled it faster. That might not have been a bad idea, as he picked this particular drive to get upset. (Usually he's a stellar traveler.) But as frustrating as his crying got, it still didn't earn him the distinction of "car inhabitant most likely to be voted out at the first gas stop if this were a reality show." That distinction, without naming names, would go to a certain back seat (far back seat, actually, as this was a mini-van) driver who found it necessary to tell everyone at every mile marker that we should have taken another route. Grandma Laurie. Oops.
One drive from hell later, we checked in with just enough time for a short rest before the dinner. It took place at a beautiful, nearby country club. Daddy, likely still traumatized from the four-hour slog, failed to take many photos of the affair.
Here's Mommy and son on the clubhouse deck.
And here we see Uncle Seymour communicating telepathically with Dash.
The day started out innocently enough. The weather was looking much nicer than the original thunderstorms predicted. Mommy, Dash, and Daddy got some good sleep after a long evening. Then the boy got to bond with his paternal grandparents, Grandaddy Don and Grandma Laurie.
Dash got to meet Aunt Debby for the first time (Skype notwithstanding).
After a little nosh for lunch -- because that's what you do in the NYC Metro area, especially when bagels are involved -- we were on the road to Tahl and Bryan's rehearsal dinner upstate. Then the Bronx had to go and ruin everything.
The trip up to Hillsdale (home of the posh Holiday House Motel, assuming you count an extra screen door as "posh") was supposed to take two hours. In reality, on a Friday, the first Friday of summer, some delays are to be expected. The first 13 miles of our 113 mile trip, spent mostly on the dreaded Cross Bronx Expressway, took two hours alone. To put that in perspective, Daddy used to run that distance -- a half marathon -- in 1:20ish.
Dash could have almost crawled it faster. That might not have been a bad idea, as he picked this particular drive to get upset. (Usually he's a stellar traveler.) But as frustrating as his crying got, it still didn't earn him the distinction of "car inhabitant most likely to be voted out at the first gas stop if this were a reality show." That distinction, without naming names, would go to a certain back seat (far back seat, actually, as this was a mini-van) driver who found it necessary to tell everyone at every mile marker that we should have taken another route. Grandma Laurie. Oops.
One drive from hell later, we checked in with just enough time for a short rest before the dinner. It took place at a beautiful, nearby country club. Daddy, likely still traumatized from the four-hour slog, failed to take many photos of the affair.
Here's Mommy and son on the clubhouse deck.
And here we see Uncle Seymour communicating telepathically with Dash.
All photos ©2011 Garrito
Next up: The Farm Fete
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