from the vaults: Bedtime

30 07 2010

So I have two old videos of prepping E for bedtime. One is set for private viewing only because, well because it’s of E taking a bath. It’s kind of hilarious but, you know.

The other one is of me reading bedtime stories to E. We go through a few before we settle on 누가 내 머리에 똥 쌌어?, which roughly translates to “Who pooped on my head?”

Book cover

It’s about a mole who comes out of his burrow only to have some poop land on his head and, like the bird in Are You My Mother?, proceeds to interrogate a series of nearby animals as to what happened. It’s twisted and adorable, but you’ll have to forgive my halting reading of it.


Photos: Samurai Futaba

28 07 2010

All I can say is, E is a good sport.


Reminds me of a cross between The Mikado and Samurai Futaba:


via Saturday Night Live – Samurai Delicatessen – Video –

Photos: Bedhead

28 07 2010


Yes, E has added winking to his arsenal of charisma. I think Grace taught him.


from the vaults: Reading and Singing

28 07 2010

I am pleased to say that E loves books and loves to have books read to him. I mean to, one of these days, have a run-down of his favorite books, but for now I’ll just share some videos of us reading (and singing).

Last summer Dana and I discovered Aladdin Books. They’re an international Korean bookstore chain with a branch down in Annandale, Virginia. One of the best purchases we made there was this combo CD+songbook of fun Korean children’s songs. I swear E already has half the songs memorized; I can barely recall one or two.

Fortunately, I can (sort of) read Korean. Here’s me reading and singing the lyrics of a few songs to E:

I know, my pitch control leaves much to be desired. E’s no better. Here he is, climbing out of an ottoman having emptied it of all the board games we store in it, grabbing for the flipcam and engaging in a fairly incomprehensible medley of songs he knows. He eventually runs away with the camera.

And here I am, reading to E his least favorite book: Dare You Go…Into the Jungle.

Dare you go...into the jungle

It’s a book that I picked up at a thrift store. It has a pretty clever sense of suspense, and the last page has a pop-up of a crocodile that scares the bejesus out of E. Dana and I just had to record for posterity his genuine fear of this book:

Forgive us, E.

Scribble: The Resistor and The Capacitor

24 07 2010

Note: This is an old scrap I came across. Still seemed interesting.

They started to come to every meeting—Bermudez and Putterman—like a couple, but they never sat next to each other. Bermudez always seated himself next to the coffee, Putterman near the door or sometimes facing a bank of windows to the clear.

Putterman was the Resistor. He stayed quiet for long stretches looking bored, blankly staring out to the clear with a slight and tired mien and, just as the room seemed to coalesce around an idea, he’d start furrowing and arching his eyebrows, and those of us who knew knew to deflate a little, back off our enthusiasm for—here it comes—that withering epithet. Fresh-faced executives or exasperated believers may then parry and push but that would set him off to his inexhaustible rally of tricks.

Putterman came to life as a wall, an undulating, flexing brick barrier swelling to resistance like a sea storm clenching to crush brave and hapless boats. Once he even got up and paced the conference room, jabbing and then chopping the air like a Roman orator, pausing at the end of the table and addressing the CEO directly. I wanted simultaneously to stand up and applause and catch him in a running tackle, but when he got to the coffee machine, Bermudez held his hand up like a kid in 5th grade, and everyone stopped shouting, and Putterman pursed his lips.