Nope, sorry…
…there’s no future in that career choice. Try something where you can make some money. Like becoming a doctor. Or lawyer. Or plumber.
The next Tarantino
I’d say Spielberg or Cameron, but it appears Gabe’s style runs a little more gritty. More raw. (More violent.)
Gabe and I had loads of idle time this last week over Spring Break, so he decided to make a movie. Although the shooting schedule was rigorous (13 takes in 10 minutes), I really enjoyed the pre-production meetings:
Me: So what would you like the movie to be about?
Gabe: Pow.
(Note: “Pow” is his word for anything crashing together. Two of his matchbox cars, his toy hammer and his work bench, his toy hammer and my head… anything banging together, he yells “POW, POW!”)
Me: Well, what should go pow?
Gabe: (looking at the toy closest to him) this bus!
Me: And why would it go pow? Does it crash for a reason? Was there ice on the road? Did someone get angry and crash the bus? Who’s in the bus? Where were they going when they crashed? What’s their motivation?
Gabe: They go POW!
And with that, I give you the World Premiere of Gabe’s first movie…
Xmas Shopping List
It started and ended here: But I just couldn’t give one of these.
In other news, this happened:
Entered the room this way. We have no idea why. Experts have been called, tests underway. Not sure what else we can do.
RIP, Don Meredith…
I remember his imbibed coolness in the MNF booth as much as I remember all the schtick that Howard Cosell is renown for. One thing they were never able to replicate in that weekly broadcast is the essence of light-hearted coolness that Meredith brought.
Dennis Miller and Tony Kornheiser were added to deflate the seriousness, maybe, but it never fit naturally. And mostly resulted in them trying to act more serious or informed than they were, while taking breaks for their contrived “here’s the funny!’ moments. (I could go on about about this for awhile. I’ll spare you.)
It actually was never about Meredith being funny. It was Meredith being cool. Effortlessly cool. It was like having Sinatra talk football each week. Or better yet, a slightly “Hee-Haw”‘ed version of Dean Martin. Adding experienced football commentary, but in a way that said, “hey, this isn’t rocket science, Gifford… lighten up, baby.”
I haven’t thought about Don Meredith in years. But he’s definitely a piece in the collage of my TV-watching childhood. As we get older, more and more of those pieces pass away. It’s weird how some stick with me more than others.
Gabe’s bed-time routine each night includes a trip the bathroom to take a bath, give the toilet a try (like that’ll ever happen) or just brush his teeth. When he’s finished, he flips off the light switch and sings, “Turn out the liii-iights, the potty’s over!”
I may have taught him that.
they never work past noon around here…
“…they sit side by side in their catinas, talk of senoritas, and drink warm beer.”
Gabe, on the other hand, played in the sand and water. Caution: this video’s duration inches close to “only a grandparent could love” length. Which is appropriate, as we took a camcorder around one day to send some video back to my parents. Fun trip, which says a lot from someone who usually hates things like water and sun…
Happy long-weekend to all of you. Wishing you safe travels and good times over the holiday.
