Sharing is Caring...

Greetings and salutations,

We can all learn from those around us, and I have now come to realize that puppies can teach us a great deal as well. I think that some folks may fail to initially recognize the inherent value in pooches in this regard. Take my canine friend, Alice, for instance. She has taught be a great deal about life already. And no, I am not referencing her desire and ability to urinate at will wherever she chooses to discharge her sympathetic bladder tone. I was well-versed in that realm prior to her arrival. Instead, Alice has taught be a remarkably important life lesson that I have recently implemented in my own daily practice.

Good ol' Alice has taught be the value of sharing. Truth be told, Mama and Papa have been working on instilling that trait as well. But sometimes another perspective is useful. Alice has taken the liberty of providing such an additional vantage point. Much like myself, Alice is not wanting for much. With a copious buffet of delectable morsels, free reign over a spacious backyard, more toys than one could shake a stick at, and a loving family she is in puppy heaven. Yet, something appeared to be missing in her life. Consequently, I attempted to fill that void. Utilizing our own unique dialect, I informed Alice that it would be permissible for her to chew on my highchair. And boy did that appease Alice! She wasted no time securing some of the finest polyvinyl chloride in the region. Despite the fact that the structural integrity of the highchair was not compromised, Papa was perplexed. He was not pleased that Alice elected to consume a piece of furniture; however, he did applaud my willingness to share my good fortune.

But if only the tale of sharing concluded there. Our whimsical journey takes us to earlier this afternoon. Mama and I ventured to the local Pizza Ranch with my friend Adam and his mother. Faithful readers may recall Adam, the friend on which I often lean for advice in addition to lending my support to him when necessary. Adam and I settled up to a booth and started swapping stories. Before long we were elbow deep in the nuances of fruit cocktails consisting of bananas, apples, and pears. Then, almost as if a gift from the heavens, Adam's mom bestowed upon him a rice cracker. Of course, Adam took to this like stink on one of my diapers. During a brief respite from his delectable morsel I was reminded of the lesson that Alice and I learned recently. Sharing is caring; thus, I thought it prudent to share a lesson on sharing with Adam. So, I helped myself to his cracker. Adam did not seem to mind; Mama on the other hand was less than pleased. All I could do is look at her with my beautiful blue eyes and think, "Share and share alike."

Carter

Someone in heaven is always looking after me...

Toothers...

Greetings and salutations,

It seems that my puppy Alice and I have yet another commonality that warrants further discussion today. While it is true that both of us could be considered quadrupeds, my ability to crawl does not yet elevate me to the esteemed level of Alice. Instead, I am referring to our developing dental mastery. Alice has a fondness for licking everything...faces, hands, glass, the floor, her dog food bowl clean, you name it. However, she also has a propensity to chew on things in the process. It seems that my own dental metamorphosis has similar qualities.

I am now the proud owner of five teeth, three on the maxillary surface and two mandibular chompers. Papa now refers to me as Carter O'lantern due to the Halloween-esque appearance of my grin at present. These teeth have compelled me to chew on virtually everything...faces, hands, not so much glass, the floor, my cereal bowl clean, you name it. Papa thinks that in a mere matter of weeks we will be sharing a pizza with him. He recommends the Old Chicago pepperoni, if you are interested (Yet another marketing opportunity...My schedule is available; commercials, fliers, Internet campaigns, whatever your fancy. Papa is now accepting offers.). In any event, I might hold off on that for a bit, but I must admit that the thought is tantalizing.

For me, the teeth are really an investment in the future. Sure, they will eventually enable me to expand my palate, dabbling in the delicacies our society has to offer. Before long I will be eating solid foods with Mama and Papa. Mama suggests tapas, whatever those are, while Papa states that a Fuddruckers hamburger is a must. Anyway, the nutrient qualities will assuredly be essential to my future development. However, that is not the investment to which I was referring. In these economic times I think teeth are a solid security with high reward potential. The current state of 401K retirement funds, stocks, bonds, municipalities, standard commodities, and real estate are far too volatile for my taste. I find the tangible qualities of teeth far more appealing. I plan to stockpile these enamel-based entities until the market peaks, and then I will call upon the Tooth Fairy to reward my hard work and patience. On the open market twenty baby teeth can fetch a pretty penny. Just think about all the folks in society who pay thousands of dollars for fake teeth. Why settle for artificial chompers when pristine, low mileage teeth are available? With the current rate of inflation I could just retire on those proceeds alone. I guess there are just two things left to do: 1) finish growing those last fifteen teeth and 2) start sleeping on a pillow so I can strategically place those teeth underneath it. So much to do, so little time!


Carter

Someone in heaven is always looking after me...

Walk This Way!

Greetings and salutations,

It seems that the XM radio station 80s on 8 will permeate yet another journey on which we are about to embark. My recent activities around the homestead beg for the comparison, and I simply hate to disappoint my modest readership.

Aerosmith is a legend of rock and roll. How else would someone classify a band that has its own version of "Guitar Hero"? And one day after lead singer Steven Tyler's 61st birthday, what is a more fitting tribute than to be immortalized in my blog? Okay, so it may not be a marvelous gift, but it is better than cleaning up after my puppy, Alice, in the kitchen...yet again. In any event, the work of this super band has spanned the 70s, 80s, 90s, and today (as our trained disc jockeys like to phrase it). With a career displaying equal parts longevity and botox injections (Have you seen Steven Tyler's face? Papa informed me that no one should have a face that smooth in their 60s let alone lips so voluptuous.), they have scored more than their fair share of number one hits. Amongst those chart toppers is a track entitled "Walk This Way." Music connoisseurs will recall that this song actually only peaked at number ten on the Billboard charts in 1977. However, after an epic and historic collaboration with Run-D.M.C., the remix of this song climaxed at number one in 1986. While attributed to Run-D.M.C. primarily, this track was identified as the ninth best song of the 1980s by VH-1 (With that said, Hall and Oates checked in at number six with "I Can't Go For That (No Can D0)", so the legitimacy of this list could be called into question.).

In this instance, the particular lyrics are less germane to today's blog than the title of the song itself (And by the way, if one peruses the nuances of said musical stylings, the lyrics may actually be deemed inappropriate for an eight month old, or an eight year old, or maybe even an eighteen year old.). It seems that my strength and conditioning coach (otherwise known as Mama) has me on a great regimen. The utilization of the Vtech Sit to Stand Learning Walker has been essential(Admittedly a shameless plug; however, I have no financial disclosures to make...yet. Vtech, if you are out there and listening, I could be the next E*trade baby. All negotiations are handled by my agent, Papa. Contact him at your leisure.). Thanks to this marvelous contraption, my dexterity, balance, and coordination are improving at a frightening pace. In fact, a mere matter of days ago I was seen gallivanting around the living room, walker in front of me and Mama at the ready. Sure, I may not quite be ready from prime time yet, but just you wait. Before long I will be ambulating without assistance, on the prowl chasing after Alice, so long as that is the only girl I chase for now Papa tells me. This new found ability has Papa thrilled. He even gave me a little incentive; he says that just as soon as I can walk he will let me take out the garbage! On second thought, maybe I will sit back down again.


Carter

Someone in heaven is always looking after me...

Nap Time!...

Greetings and salutations,

Today's topic du jour is sleep. As I understand it, this entity is a fantastic representation of capitalistic economics. The demand for sleep often, if not virtually always, outweighs the supply. The analogy breakdown because it is one of those delicacies in life that has, strictly speaking, no monetary value. It is prized by virtually everyone and there rarely seems to be enough of it. That is, however, unless you are a beautiful, bounding baby boy (or a cat...But my kitty Scotch is a topic for another positing.).

Sleep has been a relevant topic in our home of late. Papa is currently working the night shifts; while he seems to have little difficulty falling asleep, finding the time to do so is another matter. He wants to spend all his time playing rings with me, and thus sleep slips down the priority list. His altered schedule this week also has him swinging by my school for visits occasionally. Papa claims this is so that I remember his ol' mug. That, of course, is not a relevant issue; I think he is there because he genuinely misses me.

Yesterday, Papa made his semi-regular visit to school so that we could converse about the day's current events, economic forecasts, and perhaps most significantly, my daily activities in class. Unfortunately for Papa, I inadvertently amended my afternoon schedule to accommodate a brief respite. I was later informed that I was found curled up on my left side, hands grasping the crib as though it was the last container of Gerber 1st green beans on earth, feet splayed in an elevated fashion on the end of the crib. The piece de resistance of this beautiful scenario was the patent-pending Carter Cover Up. What is this phenomenon, you ask? Well, please allow me to elaborate.

In surveying the population at large, it seems that most people tend to go to sleep when it is dark. But I find myself sleepy in some of the heliocentric world's most bright hours. Consequently, I developed a method for addressing this issue. Garnering a scarlet letter as an outcast for violating the social morays of sleep is not something I wish to do at such a tender age. I too yearn to sleep in the dark. Therefore, when I go to sleep I almost unequivocally pull a blanket, burp rag, or any similar object over my face. Many a time have Mama and Papa found me in the back seat of the car after a trip to the store with my blanket pulled over my face. Of course, a breathable fabric is highly recommended for this activity. Legal counsel has informed me that I am not liable for any maladies that may transpire with the implementation of this method. This is one of the finer points which has held me up at both the Patent Office and with the FDA. With the patent pending and sponsorship deals still being finalized, I have elected to post a photograph sans the Carter Cover Up. Let your imagination be your guide.

In any event, back to the topic at hand, needless to say Papa was a bit disappointed that he could not engage in witty banter with me yesterday. Thus, he proceeded on to work, waiting with tantalizing anticipation for the time when we could be reunited. In an ironic twist of fate, Papa was later informed that I concluded my siesta five minutes after his departure. We later discussed sleeping, and Papa informed me that there are few things as peaceful and touching as watching a baby sleep, especially one's own child. The innocence of a child is never more apparent as when they are slumbering. Sometimes Mama and Papa just watch me sleep, I am told, and marvel at how blessed they are. After such retrospection, it occurs to me that the "sleeping like a baby" should not only be sought for its physical restorative qualities but perhaps also for its ability to restore the soul.

Carter

Someone in heaven is always looking after me...

Sing Along...

Greetings and salutations,

While this may not come as a marked surprise to those who follow my postings, Papa and I tend to have similar tastes in music. It seems that is deemed pleasing to his auditory centers and cranial nerve eight are equally delightful to myself. We find particular enjoyment in the musical stylings offered by XM Radio's 80s on 8 radio station. Critics often find songs from this period frivolous and lacking substance, with synthesized sounds produced by the infamous keytair (A virtually mythical combination of the guitar and keyboard. Picture a minotaur or a centaur in a musical setting.). However, we find the sounds whimsical and the lyrics intriguing.

Recently, while on a delightful trek through our local neighborhood enjoying the splendor of mid-March in Iowa, Papa and I heard a song that I decided would be better if I provided my own music rendition. Now, I am not one who regularly partakes in the fad that is known as karaoke. I insist that this is on principle, others point to my somewhat limited vocabulary. Regardless, this was one instance in which the song and my ever-expanding dialect met in blissful harmony

Thanks in large part to my speech coach, Mama, I am now able to articulate several new dulcet tones. Thus, when the Police's De Do Do Do De Da Da Da emanated through Papa's Infinity speakers, I could hardly contain myself. Sure, some of the finer nuances of the song escaped my linguistic ability. But, if you check out the link provided below, you can easily see that I nailed almost 25% of the song.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6SojAZ0X1e0

Before I sign off for today, I should make a couple of additional observations. First, when Papa heard me sing along with the Police (One of Uncle Tyler's favorite bands from his treks to high school with Papa...Just ask him about it!), he thought I should see the music video as well. It seems that I have some of their rudimentary dance moves choreographed well. Second, and this is where I part company with the Police, I refuse to style my hair in such a fashion. This is primarily due to the abhorrent appearance of said quaffs. But additionally, I really am going to need more hair in order for any styling to be feasible.


Carter

Someone in heaven is always looking after me...

Hobby Time...

Greetings and salutations,

Tonight I have elected to discuss a whimsical topic with which I hope many of you can identify. Papa and I have conversed regularly about the virtues of identifying a hobby. Assuredly each of you are familiar with this critical component of one's life. Papa states that everyone should have a past time in life that serves as an outlet, something that brings pleasure and further refines a person. In the end, ideally such a hobby adds character and brings joy to one's life.

Papa, for instance, revels in collecting Air Jordan shoes and playing baseball. Mama, on the other hand, delights in securing handbags and cooking. Their colleagues will inform you that they both love watching the Cubs at Wrigley Field. Hopefully someday I am privileged enough to sample this baseball delicacy. With that said, interestingly, they both independently inform me on a daily basis that their favorite hobby is watching me grow and smile virtually every moment along the way. Of course, I personally enjoy ensuring that this latter hobby is optimized for them.

With these examples readily apparent around me, I have taken the occasion to identify things in my young life that I could consider hobbies. Previous diatribes have eluded to such past times, including identifying the textural qualities of my metatarsals, watching Dumb and Dumber with Papa, and making Mama laugh with my newly discovered auditory qualities. But without question, I must admit, the one activity that always, without fail, makes me smile, is Papa climbing. Each time I reach the summit of Mount Papa, latching on to the follicular peak, a beautiful smile emanates across my face. Part of me finds pleasure in seeing how many members of his telophase hair shafts I can remove in a single handful. Other times I simply try to see if I can stretch his left ear to match the right. But regardless of the purpose, whenever Papa aides me in partaking in this hobby, I am genuinely happy.

It seems that Mama and Papa were correct again; hobbies are vital to one's life. A true hobby really does provide another dimension to a person's personality. And when you can indulge in such activity with those that you love (like Mama and Papa at Wrigley Field), said hobby is that much more pleasurable.

Carter

Someone in heaven is always looking after me...

I Cannot Drive 55...

Greetings and salutations,

As faithful readers of my diatribes will recall, Papa and I recently embarked upon a celebrated journey through the wonderful world of cinematic masterpieces. In an effort to further broaden my horizons, Papa has begun to espouse the virtues of music as well. We have covered music ranging from the Baroque period through the contemporary scene. Much closer to the latter aspect of this musical terrain resides Sammy Hagar. Certainly, this man is viewed as an antagonist by many for his role in one of the greatest guitar bands of all time. Legions of Van Halen enthusiasts still fondly recall the days of David Lee Roth, Jump, and California Girls. In fact, while I only have a rudimentary understanding of the history of this band, I wonder why Sammy was included in Van Halen's Rock 'n Roll Hall of Fame induction as opposed to Mr. Roth.

Well, that was a pleasant detour. I should meander back to the point of today's blog. Without question Mr. Hagar's biggest solo hit (in fact, this is rumored to be the song that enabled him to enter the musical bastion that is known as Van Halen) is entitled I Can't Drive 55. A fantastic social commentary on the seemingly lethargic speed limit at the time, it reminded me of one of my favorite pastimes. Mama and Papa were kind enough to purchase a fantastic set of wheels for me. I simply love this modern piece of Detroit muscle. Well, technically speaking I guess it is a modern piece of Iowa City muscle, since I am the finely tuned mechanical specimen that moves it through the house.

Mama likes to dress me up in my driver's hat and allow me to scoot around the kitchen. This reminds me of a beautiful Sunday drive. To be honest, I play the part well. It has become one of my favorite past times. I lay on the horn every now and again; occasionally Alice gives me a funny look as I cruise past. I look over at her, nod with my subtle charm, and apologize that I roll in a one-seater. I only wish that the folks traversing the road in front of my own home would be so casual. Instead of a leisurely Sunday drive it appears that some of those folks are qualifying for the next NASCAR race.

In any event, for me Mr. Hagar's song reminds me of two things I cannot do: 1) I cannot use contractions; I find it improper. Thus, I "cannot drive 55." And second, I literally cannot drive 55 miles per hour. By the time I hit five miles per hour I hit the refrigerator. Perhaps Papa will supervise me on the sidewalk; that may be my only realistic opportunity to achieve full speed. Until, that is, I can convince Mama to buy me that Dodge Viper Power Wheels car at the store. A few more thousand of my patented smiles I just might get there!

P.S. My colleagues were conversing about my digital memoirs the other day. One remarked, "So, who reads your stuff?" I found this question perplexing, as I do not actually know the answer. Thus, if it does not prove to be too vexing, I was hoping that you would consider leaving a comment in response to my most recent blog entry. The link is listed below; you could merely leave your name or maybe an insightful comment. Either way, it would be pleasant to know who is growing up along with me.

Carter

Someone in heaven is always looking after me...

Alice in Wonderland...

Greetings and salutations,

Well, that certainly did not last as long as one might have expected. My reign lasted approximately 227 days, 7 hours, 45 minutes, and 37 seconds, give or take. I ruled the roost, sauntering about with a sense of pride and uniqueness. Yes, I was the baby of the family. No, your second cranial nerve has not betrayed you; I did incorporate the word "was" into the previous sentence. I am no longer the newest addition to our household. Mama and Papa, with my approval of course, elected to secure a beautiful, buxom Saint Bernard puppy for our home. With tremendous excitement and anticipation, we welcomed Alice in Wonderland into our home yesterday.

Now, I must confess that Alice in Wonderland is her formal moniker, much like the combination of one's name and surname. I prefer to refer to her by Alice. Alright, alright...I am still mastering the art of the English pronunciation. Once I grasp the nuances of "Mama" and perhaps "Papa", I shall proceed along to "Alice" and "flibbertigibbet" (also known as a silly, flighty person; that may actually be a practical term for many of you to incorporate into your vernacular. Who does not know such a person? Okay, I do not but everyone seems to forget that I am only seven months old).

Regardless, Alice and I are able to converse freely, and we have started to develop a kinship. She frequently seats herself next to me and watches over me. I often latch onto her fur and pet her. Admittedly, my still developing dexterity may lend itself to the occasional, unintentional firm petting, but Alice does not seem to mind. She licks my face just the same. And I am beginning to learn about commonality; while our relationship is still in its infancy (much like everything in my life), we have several intriguing similar behaviors. For instance, both Alice and I have a tendency to go to the bathroom whenever the mood strikes, regardless of where we are located. Truth be told, I think Alice is improving in this regard. She lets Mama and Papa know when a restroom break is in order and they allow her to go outside. Maybe I should go outside when it is time to relieve myself.

In any event, I love having Alice around. And there is no ill will over her replacing me as the baby of the family. I may not be able to reclaim that title but that is acceptable. In this trade I gain a companion for years to come. I now have someone else, in addition to Mama and Papa, waiting for my love and affection. The notable difference is that Mama and Papa tend to drool less, save for when Papa is sleeping that is. Also, Alice will be a fantastic guardian. She already tips the scales at fifteen pounds. Before long the puppy will weigh more than Papa! At the end of the day, I welcome Alice in Wonderland into our home, a place that can certainly be described as "wonderfulland".

Carter

Someone in heaven is always looking after me...

Friends...

Greetings and salutations,

Please keep in mind that I have only been on this beautiful ball of mud for roughly seven and one half months. However, even with only that small moniker of experience at my disposal, I think that one of the greatest things in the world are friends. And no, I am not referring to that juvenile television program with that lady from Ace Ventura: Pet Detective. By the way, she was much funnier in that movie than her marginally successful syndicated television program.

Tangents aside, surely each of you must have a bevy of folks that you can call upon in times of need, someone to lean upon if needed. A person that even, or perhaps more adequately especially, when the chips are down is always there to cover your anti (I still marvel at my ability to employ the pun; how about that poker reference!). Often times this individual is merely present to enjoy a hardy conversation over a cup of Similac (I prefer mine straight up with a fast-flow nipple.).

Friends are also great because they provide the opportunity for play dates, strictly platonic of course. Mama insists that these social gatherings at the local mall are really for the children. Truth be told, I think that Mama is behaving like those gals in the Tostitos chips commercial. Assuredly you recall the fine bit of cinematography to which I refer. The ladies involved are marveling at how much fun their kids are having, resting peacefully in their bouncy chairs. Meanwhile, the women are indulging in a bag of tortilla chips and dip, gossiping away. In any event, this is much like my play dates. I surmise that Mama enjoys the company of her friends as much as I do, which makes these excursions so rewarding.

Regardless, these opportunities have enabled me to learn about something that everyone needs at times and something that everyone should be to many...a friend.

Carter

Someone in heaven is always looking after me...

Truly Blessed...

Greetings and salutations,

Earlier today I donned my new aquatic attire in order to perform a bit of Internet surfing. Alright, I am speaking entirely in metaphor. But, I did notice something on the ol' World Wide Web yesterday that piqued my attention. Of course, my electronic curiosity was under the direct supervision of an adult over the age of 18, if not in terms of behavior then certainly in age. Surely, many of you quickly surmised that the guide to my digital exploits was Papa. In any event, we were scouring Mama's Facebook page when something interesting caught me eye. Mama's status statement read, "Amy is so blessed." When I noted this proclivity to Papa it spurred a fantastic discussion, the highlights of which I would like to share at this time.

Mama and Papa are employed in a place where they have the extraordinary opportunity to help people on a daily basis. With this privilege comes the weight of seeing individuals who are truly suffering. Papa told me that one of the most difficult things for him to see is ill children. Youth are to be exuberant and the embodiment of all that is beautiful in the world. Innocent and free to explore everything that the world has to offer, children have phenomenal potential. To see that struck down or inhibited by illness, no matter the severity, is emotionally taxing for Papa. Just imagine the stress that those close to such a child are experiencing.

As the conversation progressed, Papa stated that he was astounded by health as much as sickness. Papa asked me to consider the exceptional genetic and physiologic complexities of the human body. Okay, reality break here. I struggled with this task, to say the least. However, when I boiled it down to something I have a better handle on, it made a lot more sense. Look how complicated my feet are! It is quite a production just to get those things in my mouth, as many of you read previously. That truly but things into perspective for me. Anyway, tangents aside, Papa marveled at how the human body works in perfect concert the vast majority of the time. The odds that something would go amiss seem exponential yet pale mightily in actuality.

The moral of the story, as Papa explained it to me, is that he is exceptionally thankful that he and Mama have their own good health. But more importantly, they are so grateful that I am so energetic, full of life, and without a malady. Hey, I do what I can.

Returning to the statement that spurred this discourse, Papa hesitated to speculate on the precise meaning of Mama's Facebook posting. But, being the relatively astute individual that I seem to be at times, I think I might have some insight into the underlying context. Perhaps Mama is referring to a life that is not perfect, that has its trials and tribulations like most. However, I hypothesize that she has reached the conclusion that many would envy her life, especially the twenty-one pound smiling piece of heaven contained therein. And none of it could not be traded for anything in this world or beyond. Of course, that is purely speculation on my part. Yet, given the almost existential bond that I have with Mama, I suspect that I am not far off. Regardless of the reason, I am glad that she feels blessed; I feel the exact same way.

Carter

Someone in heaven is always looking after me...

Chatting About Grandpa...

Greetings and salutations,

Today Mama had to go to work. Scores of individuals inform me that she is a fantastic nurse, helping a plethora of people in need of medical attention. While I have missed her mightily today, it has provided me with an opportunity to spend the day with Papa. Thus far, we have reveled in a blissful day. We indulged in multiple nursery rhymes, enjoyed a gourmet applesauce for lunch, watched the Hawkeyes win in double overtime, took a spa-quality bubble bath, and had batting practice with my tee-ball toys. All in all, it has been a spectacular day.

Perhaps the most interesting part of the day came while I was playing with my agriculturally-themed Vtech Sit-to-Stand Learning Walker (pictured above at Christmas). Papa took this occasion to tell me a tale about Grandpa Sherman. Fortunately for me, Mama and Papa have been blessed with occupational opportunities that enable them to provide me with virtually everything that I could desire (including many things that I do not even know I desire, like Air Jordans). But "back in the day", as the kids are saying now days, Grandpa Sherman did not have that luxury. When Papa was young, Grandpa was still in school and trying to support his family at the same time. There came an evening when Grandpa, Grandma, and Papa were at the store. Apparently Papa was just as blatant with his wishes and desires then as he is now. He informed his parents that he would relish a He-Man toy that was on sale at the store.

As an aside, the legend of He-Man has waned a bit in contemporary society. The significance of this mythical character does still hold a place in the hearts and minds of many today although He-Man (and his equal opportunity companion She-Ra) are not as popular as they were "back in the day." As it is explained to me, He-Man was the equivalent of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles for some, the Mighty Morphin' Power Rangers for others, and now akin to Spiderman in terms of popularity with the youth of our nation.

In any event, given the economic situation at the time, Grandpa was apparently faced with a tough decision. He could either spend his remaining money on this luxury for his son or purchase food for he and Grandma. After a discussion with Grandma, he elected to secure the toy, probably for no other reason than to see the sheer joy and sense of appreciation on his face. Of course, this meant that Grandpa and Grandma had to stretch their remaining food stores (primarily consisting of potatoes) for the next several weeks until payday returned. However, never a word of bitterness or secondary consternation was uttered following this decision.

Papa seems to have taken this lesson to heart. It may not always apply to purchasing tangible items, but rather it is a thought process that has pervaded both his life and that of Mama's as well. They too realize that there may be nothing better in the entire world than seeing me smile. Between you and me, that is why I am constantly smiling. I figure it is the least I can do to repay Mama and Papa for all of their love and attention. The aforementioned tale is just one of the many lessons Grandpa has passed along, and one that I too will remember. Thanks to days like today, I get to enjoy Papa and those that have influenced his life.


Carter

Someone in heaven is always looking after me...

Big (Ten) Night Out!

Greetings and salutations,

Mama and Papa took me out on the town this evening. And before someone alerts Child Protective Services, we did not embark upon a tour of the Downtown Iowa City hotspots. No, instead the Hogrefe Family was privileged to take in the Iowa Hawkeyes battle The Ohio State Buckeyes in a men's Big Ten basketball tilt. Now, I have had the occasion to view a couple of Papa's intramural soirees. Those are entertaining and there is always one guy who smiles at me during time-outs. In any event, tonight was my first foray into Carver Hawkeye Arena. I suppose there is one caveat; Mama lugged me across the arena floor last May during her commencement ceremony. However, truth be told, I only vaguely recollect the in utero memories of that occasion. Rest assured that Mama informed me that it was every bit as challenging carrying me up and down the steep stairs this time as it was last May.

As the picture above indicates, our seats were fantastic. We were in the first row of the stadium seating, and I even got to meet Herky. He was rather cordial, but when he sat in front of me his large cranium obstructed my view for a brief time. And if I am not mistaken, during the game a couple of droplets of perspiration may have landed upon me. However, Mama was there to mop them up with my handy burp rag. Papa contended it may have been salivary contents from a gentleman a dozen rows behind us who appeared to have a personal vendetta against one of the referees. I learned that these referees are often berated but are really just doing the best job they can, calling the action as they see it from their vantage.

In the end, the Hawkeyes came up just short. Yet, it was a very entertaining game. I cheered throughout and boisterously supported my Mama and Papa's alma mater. Papa and I conversed during the contest, and I learned a few things. First of all, as is the case in most sporting endeavors, it seems that the games are won and lost on the defensive end. Tomorrow I plan to work on my defensive stance and shuffling my feet to stay in front of my defender. Okay, maybe I will focus on that walking thing first. But I do have a secret weapon...If I keep drooling at this pace, my defender will assuredly lose his balance, resulting in a traveling violation or a turnover. Trust me, Papa and I looked in the rule book and there is no penalty for drooling.

Secondly, I learned that basketball players are much taller in person than on the television. They appeared to be equivalent to four of me stacked in a vertical orientation. I am going to have to remain on my current growth curve (presently in the 89th percentile) to contend with these big boys. And finally, we talked about college sports in general. The opportunity to partake in athletics at the collegiate level is a blessing realized by hard work, dedication, and some God-given ability. But in the end, the defining and quintessential aspect of college sports is college...The education achieved in, and more more importantly outside, the athletic arena is what enables one to be truly successful in life. Papa and I will hit the books first and then the hardwood.


Carter

Someone in heaven is always looking after me...

Expanding Vocabulary!

Greetings and salutations,

Those faithful blog followers will recall that my most recent dissertation involved a reference to my film sessions with Papa. We have been reviewing some of the comedic classics, and I specifically referenced Dumb and Dumber. Well, during our screening Papa taught me a brand-new word and even correlated it to my life! Mostly Papa just throws out these inane terms with questionable (at best) relevance to one's daily trials and tribulations. But this time I think he might be on to something.

The word in question is "antithesis." For those of you, like me, who struggled to grasp the most basic definition of this term let alone its nuances, please allow me to define said term for you. Our good friends at Merriam-Webster, purveyors of all that is sacred in our English language and rapidly becoming one of my favorite texts, "antithesis" is defined as, "the direct opposite."

The context in which the introduction of this term entered my vernacular can best be explained by watching the following clip from the aforementioned film Dumb and Dumber: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0cVlTeIATBs.

Surely, that strikes the funny bone of most individuals. Now, please allow me to bring this full circle. Recently I have begun to explore the tonal qualities of my own voice. Interestingly, I am able to produce a stunningly similar rendition of Mr. Carey's acting. I would assert that this fine Canadian actor stole my material, but the chronology simply does not merit such accusations. In any event, after seeing this portion of the film during our viewing, I started to wonder if my newly found voice was in competition for "the most annoying sound in the world." Papa was quick to dispel this myth. He informed me that I was actually offering the antithesis of "the most annoying sound in the world."

Papa explained to me that he was remarkably proud of my ability to discourse with such inflection and passion. It sounded as though he was both impressed with my development and amazed at how fast I am growing up. He stated that before long we would be seated across from each other in our new office discussing the Cubs, philosophy, and everything Grandpa Sherman taught him. So, I guess that learning new words is virtually always marvelous and sometimes being the antithesis is a great thing.


Carter

Someone in heaven is always looking after me...