The L.A. Dime

1.5 years ago today, we met our little Sophia and life hasn’t been the same since. At her check-up today, Dr. JJ told us that she’s right on track with her development (she’s up to over 30 words now, has started telling us about the contents of her diaper, and never stops moving); she’s 33.5 inches long (90th percentile) and weighs 24 lbs (55th percentile). Dr. JJ also mentioned that she’s a “perfectly blended mocha” of the two of us, and when the nurse shot the Hep A vaccine into her arm, Sophie didn’t even flinch (brag, brag, brag).

To make the day even better, Sophia received her German kinderreisepass, which now joins her American passport received a few weeks back – making her our happy little dual-citizen baby.

So, as my Twitter updates noted over the weekend, our family expanded with the purchase of some goldfish, or as Sophie calls them, “Bish.”  I had been considering this purchase for a while, as dogs, cats, and birds have individually been ruled out as pets in our home for a variety of reasons.  I quickly learned that “considering” and “researching” are two very different things, and that one cannot count on a well-meaning, but inexperienced Petco employee who has only been on the job for three days to recommend fish count for a ten gallon tank.  Evidently, according to the experts, goldfish, known as Aquarium Pigs in snotty fish circles, need ten gallons per fish.  Therefore, the six fish we purchased, in several varieties, were doomed for a toxic death if some of them weren’t returned to the store ASAP.  In a gut-wrenching decision, we returned two Black Moors and two Orandas, leaving us with a (rule-breaking) two Fantails in the tank.  Sophie broke my heart when she said “bye-bye bish” as we left Petco without four of our original brood.  Sadly, it wasn’t the first time in eighteen months that daddy had to explain to his little girl that he is a moron.

The remaining inhabitants of our tank are named Brett and Jemaine, and they can be seen below.  We are currently in the process of cycling their home, and when that is finished, they may be joined by some combination of shrimp, snails, or even a cory catfish.  Stay tuned…..

Congratulations and good luck, Housh.  Thanks for playing hard, being a professional, and never complaining despite playing for a total joke of an organization.  We’ll miss you, but the Bengals don’t deserve you.

We don’t get much precipitation here in SoCal, aside from the particulate matter and dust constantly falling from the sky.  So when it does rain, you have to celebrate, especially when you have a brand new raincoat from Nana!

Last night, thanks to the gracious baby sitting help of the Dempseys, we went with friends Gary and Laurie to see our favorite band, The Submarines, perform the last show of their recent tour at The Troubadour in West Hollywood.  Not only was it fun to see our friends, now rising stars, rock out before a sell-out crowd (spurred no doubt in part by the iPhone commercial featuring their song You, Me, and the Bourgeoisie), but it was wonderful to experience live music in a small venue where you can actually witness the musicianship and performance of the bands up close and personal.  Different from a music video, or seeing a show in an enormous arena, at a place like The Troub, you can see the band actually working together, working the crowd, and working up a sweat — and I find that invigorating.  I was reminded of the thrill it was to see Snow Patrol there before they blew up,  and how amazing they were only twenty feet away (and shortly before one of their songs appeared in my first movie).  Or, seeing The Flaming Lips at an intimate setting, discovering who they are as people, as a band, as opposed to a sound from a CD or iPod.

The Morning Benders opened for the Subs with an original sound that was amazingly tight, given the fact that most of the band appeared to be too young to even entire a night club.  It was a great night.  We need to get out more often.