Poogie's Echo Chamber

Stationery card

2011-12-07T17:33:00.001-05:00

Oh What Fun Christmas Card

Seasons greetings with personalized Christmas cards from Shutterfly.

View the entire collection of cards.

Full Frontal Nature

2011-11-29T20:08:00.001-05:00

Rather than brave Black Friday at the malls and shopping centers of NE Ohio, we escaped to Port Clinton, Ohio for the Ohio version of an "African" Safari.

Translation: Animals you'd expect to see in Colorado. Buffalo, elk, alpacas and white-tailed deer.

You know, a real safari.

The African Safari Park in Port Clinton, Ohio is a 2 mile drive-thru where the animals are waiting to be fed from those passing through the park. It's a domesticated livestock ranch and you are the entertainment.

Unfortunately for those who are looking for insightful commentary from the Holmans, you will find none here. You see, we are raising an 8 year-old boy and a 6 year-old girl who is always looking to "one-up" her big brother. Therefore, when the 8 year-old boy goes 8 year-old boy on the excretory habits of animals on the "safari," it spreads like wildfire. We were not much help. Poop jokes are just too easy to resist.

Prepare yourself for more pooping and peeing than a German Sauerkraut-eating contest.

And again.

And still again.

Henry was pretty tough when the windows were up. However, as you can see from below, he softened up once the windows went down.

The little ones were throwing the carrots from the back seat.

The fearless Mayor was at the wheel.

Caroline and Henry were riding shotgun.

Upon our return to Twinsburg, we quickly bee-lined to the nearest car wash to sandblast the caked on layers of Alpaca slobber and cholera we picked up at the park. Because nothing says safari like a good bout of cholera.

Thanksgiving 2011

2011-11-25T19:10:00.001-05:00

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Turkey Trotters

2011-11-22T22:14:00.001-05:00

Will has been taking a few steps for us for the past week or so. We finally got some film of it. Enjoy!

And some earlier film of Will stepping and clapping.

And Josie being Josie.

Caroline: The Sixer

2011-11-07T22:06:00.000-05:00

Caroline Paige. The quiet and shy Holman.

CP turned six on Friday the 4th but we decided to celebrate the occasion on Saturday due to my jacked up travel schedule.

I managed to make it back late on Friday night to find C asleep in our bed. Luckily, CP is easy to please at this stage. I asked her what she wanted from the bayou and she, without hesitating, said, "Skittles, daddy. Skittles."

I love this child.

Boys, if you are paying attention, the girl's love can be bought with high fructose corn syrup and some snappy packaging.

I manged to do a little better than Skittles, though. We had a birthday party with family and friends on Saturday and Caroline had a blast!

Little Erica circa November 2005.

Caroline enjoying a Disney show in June 2011.

I said quiet and shy, right?

Joey nervously anticipating the singing of happy birthday.

The crew ranged from 10 months to 11 years old.

Surprisingly, Josie is apparently unphased by the singing of happy birthday now. Another sad reminder of how fast kids grow up. I guess there's always Will to traumatize for the time being.

His birthday is in roughly one month and judging on how bad I sing the song, the kid is going to be in tears.

Henry: The DC Lobbyist

2011-11-02T21:26:00.002-04:00

There is little doubt in my mind that Henry's career as a K Street lobbyist in Washington, DC began on Wednesday, November 2, 2011. You see, that was the date that Henry was asked to appear before the Twinsburg Board of Education to be recognized as the top second grade fund raiser for their annual read-a-thon.

Sure, he could aspire to be a doctor or a lawyer, but those people are morons.

After all, I should know. I once played doctor with a girl from Terre Haute and someone once handed me a license to practice law. The real money is in PACs and campaign bundling. Those scags in DC and Columbus are ridiculous and are practically untouchable.

Don't think Henry is a natural for fuzzy accounting and fundraising, check him out in the video below and listen to him tell you how much money he raised for the second grade:

That's right, $230,000.60! Eat that Koch Brothers! Put that in your pipe and smoke it, George Soros!

The bundler before his big moment.

I read. I raised cash. I conquered.

Henry and Mrs. Johnson, his principal, after he told her he could raise $1.5M for a new facility.

For those still reading this post, I hate having to point out the obvious, but to the kid who allegedly read over 3,000 minutes in 12 days? I have to question the validity of that.

I mean, c'mon now, son. That's more than four hours per day of reading! Put your book down and go play outside. Ride a bike. You have your whole life to waste on the sequel to "A Diary of a Wimpy Kid".

But that's just sour grapes from the parent whose son just raised nearly a quarter million dollars for Twinsburg schools, baby!

Get some.

Halloween

2011-10-31T21:30:00.000-04:00

Two posts in a little over two days? Is everything okay in Poogieville? We think so.

In the interests of time, I'm dispensing with the formality. Halloween firsts this year: Will celebrated his first trick or treat and Josie did her first pre-school show.

Let the pictures do the talking, Poogie.

The dragon and his very hairy father.

The Bills discuss griffin magic and strange looking Halloween decorations.

Equal lap time.

The kids pose with Jake the Boston Terrier (not the one on the right...the one hidden in the middle).

Darth Vader and the Real Housewife of Tattooine.

Will and the Mayor at Phineas and Ferb show.

The crew after the live Phineas and Ferb show.

Will showing off his Elton John hair.

The kids pose for the obligatory Halloween shot on our stairs.

Like I said, equal lap time.

Vignettes

2011-10-29T15:32:00.001-04:00

Yeah, we know. Long time, no bloggie.

We're raising a decent sized litter here. Baseball games, baseball practices, basketball games, basketball practices, PSR x 2, tap lessons, jazz dance lessons, cheerleading practice, homework, school, after-school programs, birthday parties, two naps a day, and a ten-month old who is nearly walking.

Josie wants to add a gymnastics class.

I want to add an undocumented alien with a knack for housekeeping and soft hands.

I'm not so sure about the housekeeping part. (Wink).

Anydoodle, here we are. We do stuff. Lots of stuff. We also take pictures -- occasionally. For our 11th wedding anniversary Erica and I took a kidless trip to Chicago and snapped a grand total of four pictures -- all clean.

Well, maybe not "all" clean if you dig interpretative art.

I'm sure someone [Bill] will be able to interpret the artist's eye on this random shot outside the Chicago MoMA.

Light as a feather...

Tall building = easy comic sequitur. Oh and by the way,before anyone goes, "Rob, you're such a juvenile," the building shot was Erica's idea.

I'm sure there's a joke there too.

Here's another of the four pictures from Chicago. This one was a timer shot off of the overpriced wet bar in our room at the Drake Hotel. It cost us $9.37 to take this picture. Apparently, unused wetbars run nearly ten bucks in Chicago.

Go figure.

The 11th Anniversary Gift is the headlock.

Going back a ways, the kids helped Mom (Nana) celebrate her 27th birthday back in Terre Haute.

Photogenic pair, if you ask me.

Funky Holmans Hoffman.

When I get my act together, I'll pull some of the Traverse City pictures out. In the meantime, here's a cute shot of the newer brothers Holman -- Henry and Will -- in Michigan.

"We can't overlook the role of the full moon."

-Wolfman Apologist

Henry's first day of school was in August. I'm just now posting picture of it. How pathetic is that?

Don't answer that.

Henry's bus on the first day.
In other news, the Mayor of Poogieville needs a hairpiece.

Jim Thome's homecoming game at Jacobs Field.

Caroline's first (second) day of school.

Caroline and Caroline cheering for Twinsburg.

Five Good Minutes in Chicago

2011-10-05T21:21:00.000-04:00

From one of the best time-lapse artists on the planet.

Good Morning Chicago - Your daily sunrise for the month of June from Craig Shimala on Vimeo.

Disney World: The Long, Strange (Fun) Trip

2011-08-03T23:19:00.002-04:00

Did you miss us?

You see, I just awakened from a four and one half week, self-imposed off-air hiatus.

Why, you ask?

Well, this year, Erica and I thought it would be a great idea to do Disney with the kids.

Ideas are great. Actual practice is another thing. This was a challenge, folks.

36 hour drive round trip
4 kids under 8 years of age
90 - 95 degree weather each day
Florida: it sucks the life out of you, slowly
a POS rental minivan made by laborers with no sense of humor
no DVD player for the trip
a 6 month old in tow

And how did it go? Well, we actually had a great time, but we (E and I) are still tired. The kids won on this vacation. The parents? Not so much.

Since alcohol, sleep and work have prevailed upon me since then, I can only summarize the trip in digestable sound bytes. For those who don't follow the family Twitter feed (@HecajoWill) and missed our minute-by-minute updates, here is your game summary of our Disney trip v.2.0:

First, the likes.

Hollywood Studios works for our age range (8, 5, 3, 6 months). Everyone got something out of it, even though Will's "something" was mostly lactose.
Two double-strollers. Credit to Erica on that one. She ordered them delivered to the house we stayed at. There were no complaints from the kiddies and even Willie enjoyed the ride.
The rain. It was hotter than a hinge in Hades every day. The rain started almost every day at 2 or 3p. I had no problem with it. Gave us an escape excuse to go back to the house to swim.
The virtual rides. Star Tours, Soarin', Toy Story 3. Walt Disney would totally crap himself if he could see the creativity of those rides through all of the ice he currently has around his cryogenically frozen head. The kids loved them.
The classics. It's a Small World. Peter Pan. The Haunted Mansion. Pirates of the Caribbean. The kids dig the staples when you share it with them.
Germany. We are only two kids away from having our own buffet table in Epcot Center's Germany exhibit. Dare to dream. I don't think Erica will let me use that excuse to have two more kids, though.
Staying off Disney property. We rented a house for a week in foreclosure alley just outside the gates of Disney. A grand for a week got us an enclosed pool, spa, 4 bedroom, 3 bath home. I highly recommend it. No buses, no noisy neighbors, no overpriced meals.
The last night fireworks at Magic Kingdom. We really nailed the last day in Disney. We did the morning at Hollywood Studios for the repeat rides that the kids loved. Came home and swam. Then, did dinner in Magic Kingdom and saw the late parade and fireworks with the kids. Pretty special times. E and I got misty together.
Yellow Dog Eats. The best meal of the trip. Staying off property allowed us to take a rest day and visit with Nana and the Funkhousers who joined us while vacationing in Daytona Beach. We Googled the best barbecue in Orlando and found this hidden gem in Windermere, FL. Yummy pulled pork nachos and sandwiches. If you get a chance to go, it is worth the trip.
Listening to the Holman symphony. Probably my favorite thing about vacations is the unexpected conversations you have or listen to when with the kids. Whether it was three year old Joey holding her own with big brother and big sister (i.e. telling Henry his interest in Indiana Jones made him a "loser") or Caroline explaining to you the virtues of the Disney Princesses, the conversations and sounds were one my proudest and most enjoyed moments of the trip.
Erica. The cannonballs. The cackle laugh. Her sense of fun. She is so much fun to be with. I just wonder if she finds it annoying that I enjoy watching her act like a goofball more than any other thing in the world?

Now, the dislikes:

Central Florida. How anyone can move to Orlando and be happy is beyond me. Being there made me feel confident in a city like Detroit and, according to some of you snobs, I'm supposed to know living in Cleveland.
Animal Kingdom. Too narrow. Too far between rides. If I wanted to visit the zoo, I'd stay in Cleveland. What can you give me that a zoo does not already have? Of course, following the entire country of Brazil -- there were a couple of tour groups from said country going through AK when we were there -- through AK probably diminished my desire for the park. However, none of the kids liked it and E and I were in agreement that it sucked.
Parents with high expectations. To the two douche bag dads who nearly came to blows at the Disney, Jr. pre-school aged kid show at Hollywood Studios because one didn't say sorry to the other for accidentally bumping into each other and the two families who nearly went "Hatfield v. McCoy" in the Magic Kindgom parking lot when one car door accidentally dinged another car, nearly setting off a parking lot throwdown between each opposing family member, please get a life. There is nothing that tells us more about how terrible we are as human beings than anger over triviality. I must say, though, watching it happen is pretty funny (and sad) stuff.
Downtown Disney. If you can't get into the four Disney parks, going there will make you wish you never did.
Planet Hollywood at Downtown Disney. All of the memorabilia from the crappiest movies ever made served with the menu straight from TGIFriday and dressed up with the soundtrack from a lower Manhattan rave. We couldn't find another restaurant to take our gigantic party of six. PH was the only place open and ready to serve us. Now I know why.
Fourth of July Weekend on Lido Beach. Holy rednecks, Batman! There's a boat race in the Gulf of Mexico and every neck with a barbed wire armband tattoo, a skanky wife/girlfriend and an extra $500 reserves a spot on the beach to make ordinary life in Sarasota, Florida intolerable. Fortunately, it was only a day and no one got close enough to measure my sarcasm. It was overflowing and likely to get me in trouble if anyone asked.
Dodge Caravans. Please. Anyone who wants to make a "buy American" argument when it comes to minivans should try driving the POS rental that we got for the trip. There is no comparison to Honda or Toyota minivans. None. Sadly, both Florida trips -- the Dodge Durango of 2006 and the Dodge Caravan of 2011 -- make me convinced that American automakers are f-ing clueless when it comes to minivans and SUVs...and we f-ing created minivans and SUVs! I love America, but I don't have to prove it by hopping on a pile of crap and imagining it has four workable wheels and an engine. My grandfather once said as he gazed at my dad's Datsun Sentra, "You know Bill, when you drive one of those it just proves the Japs won the war." That quote was meant for American guilt and it stuck with me. And maybe he was right, but he never had to drive 4 kids under 8 to Florida on an 36 hour bender. This just in to those listening, Dodge Caravans suck donkeys and I'll concede that point to my Japanese colleagues.

Now the rest in pictures:

Will and Dad with matching farmer's tan.

The Noodler

We made use of the people in line for Pirates of the Caribbean. Yes, Will went down the ride strapped to my bustling chest.

Henry would probably say the pool was his favorite thing of the trip. Go figure?

The aforesaid POS Caravan.

Our mode of in-park transport: the Double Stroller.

Joey loved the Joey rides.

Thought it was weird when she complained about the little people with her background.

Only in Germany can you find the aggressive tools of nationalism in the form of a fuzzy, sweet child's toy. BTW, I got my butt kicked by the three Holmans of the Apocalypse.

"And that is the spirit of Norway...".

Did someone say fireworks? Assume the position, Joey.

Disney's "See What You Look Like as a 5-year old" ride.

After placing some bets at the dog track, Will relaxed with Mom in the pool.

Jo Jo is a dog lover.

Indiana Jones nirvana for Henry.

The obligatory Holman kid couch shot.

Indeed, Will. What is up, dog?

Josephine hit the spin-ride trifecta.

Our sweet pad on Lido Beach in Sarasota BTNR (Before the Neck Race).

Caroline was probably the most blown away of our kids by the Disney experience.

Fin. See you in 5 years, Orlando. Next time, we fly.

Will Preps for Prom

2011-06-13T18:01:00.000-04:00

Our neighbor has an awesome camera, an artistic eye and the patience of Anne Sullivan. Thus, it is no surprise that she could pull off a few photos of our youngest, Will, and their youngest, Campbell, in a baby moment to beat all others.

Judge for yourself.

Will and Campbell ready for their 2028 prom?

2028? That's a flippin' long time from now, no?

Baby wrestling will likely become an MMA sport.

Joey's Magnificent Eye for Still Photos

2011-06-11T09:46:00.000-04:00

This is Josephine. She is a performing artist. She likes to sing. She likes to dance. She likes to wait until the last possible minute before peeing her pants -- save that one for another day.

Occasionally, the Mayor of Poogieville leaves the family camera within reach of our pint-sized third child. Josie never misses an opportunity to take the camera and make her way through a photo session. Our camera is usually filled with shots similar to those below.

As a tribute to Josie's hard work, I wanted to let you all enjoy a small sample of our little girl's work.

Josephine Elise, a self-portrait.

The shadow marks the future location of numerous self-imposed bruises and cuts.

Joey with a quick snap of Mom and the device that is slowly killing her -- the iPhone.

The leather chair. Joey must have felt close to this chair since she is the only child who naps in the chair longways and still fits inside of it.

Hardwood floors. Joey also naps on these. We haven't figured that one out yet.

The lipstick is supposed to go on the lips. For Joey, it's more of a chin dressing.

Me: "Give me the camera, Jo"
Joey: "Say cheese!"
Me: "No."

The couch. Another napping location.

The floor in the laundry room. Joey is clearly in her photographic geometry period.

Erica, Past and Present

2011-06-11T09:30:00.000-04:00

I've been staring at this picture too long and, as a result, it didn't make it in to our blog updates. This is Caroline and Mom at Caroline's Mother's Day party back in April. The similarities are uncanny.

From "school is stupid" to a beautiful smile.

Caroline with her friend Isabell.

Caroline starts kindergarten next year. We're a little misty at the thought.

Glory Days

2011-05-15T21:24:00.000-04:00

Get your Gregor Mendel hat on. This one is going to take the long road home.

For those who wish to mock the unathletic side of the Holman family (and there's plenty of well-deserved mockery), I remind you that the other half was a scholarship athlete in college.

Genetically, there's still a chance.

If you look at the kids, you can see that Erica's 23 chromosones totally dominate my weak, underachieving, largely blase set of 23 chromosones.

With the exception of Joey, the obvious signs of Erica are everywhere. Blond hair. Blue eyes. Cute kids with positive outlooks.

Me, not so much. I'm everything doughy. Even at the nano-celluar level, I am the Peter Griffin of genetics.

A cartoon characterization of my genes.

If there's ever going to be an athlete in our wolfpack, it will come from Erica's genetic code.

We recently learned that Erica's alma mater, St. Mary of the Woods College, was playing in the USCAA national softball tournament in Akron, Ohio.

Feeling at though I was in the company of greatness, we decided to show our support for the Pomeroys. After all, Erica was an OF with SMWC for 3 years while in college and a scholarship athlete. If you didn't know that, all you need to do is play catch with the woman. She doesn't know a gear less than full speed and she throws at you like she's trying to throw through you.

It can be brutal.

I knew she was the one for me when we used to have dates at the batting cages, though. There's nothing sexier than trying to outhit each other in the cage. You can make that into a double entendre if you like. I didn't mean it as one, but I can see where it could be.

Anyway, back to the game.

The Pomeroys finished as the national runner-up after losing two games to the eventual champion, Rochester College. Bummer for them. Still a good time for us and a special moment with the kids who got to see their mom as more than a domestic do-it-all hero for a change.

Yes, kids. She was pretty awesome then too!

The alumni section was sufficiently manned by the Holman clan.

Little Erica and Will the Thrill appreciate the irony of Dad's Hartford Whaler cap.

The Pomeroy bench through the lense of a former OF icon.

My favorite softball oddity of the day.
The SMWC hurler sported a scary looking facemask while delivering a pitch to Penn State.
Thought she might have been the killer from the Saw movies.

The Crooked River Walkers

2011-05-09T22:05:00.000-04:00

Yes, folks. We are back behind the desk here in Poogieville.

I'm happy to report that the travel schedule that kept yours truly from my obligation to assist our blogwriting duties is over -- for the time being.

That was DC, Cincy, Philly, Baltimore (twice), Chicago and Hartford in four weeks time in case you were scoring at home.

Some of it was fun, some of it was scary (see: landing in Cleveland during high wind warning). All of it kept me from being home.

Therefore, keeping it in perspective, I'm glad to be back.

Plenty has happened in that span of time. Seriously. My beloved Indians have won 13 consecutive home games and reside in first place. The Browns haven't lost a game since January 2nd.

Yeah, I know the Browns haven't played a game since January 2nd.

Things are good.

Getting back home during spring is usually a much-enjoyed time for the Poogsters. The sun is out. The leaves and flowers are out. We catch a few nice weekend days. We hike. We bike. We get outside.

This spring has been tough, though.

In a few words, this spring has sucked.

On the rare occasion that I have been home and the weather reasonably accommodating, we have made the trip out to our favorite Cuyahoga Valley National Park haunts. We managed a few pictures a couple of weeks ago for your viewing pleasure.

Will the Sheikh.

On the trail with a happy five month old.

What bears dream about when hungry.

Any other year, you wouldn't get a shot like this on the Towpath in late April without being run over.

The aspirational profile shot. Eat your heart out Derkacy.

The kid slobbers and drools like a happy, leaky faucet.

Caroline thinks the Cuyahoga is too curvy. Stupid crooked river!

The only trail competition for the crew was a turd-happy bunch of Canadian geese.

We got 'em.

Will Goes Jiggy for Mother's Day

2011-05-08T17:34:00.000-04:00

Erica: "You know you haven't blogged in awhile?"

How rude of me. Here's Reason #3,457,201 to keep me from the keyboard.

Will? Irish? No. from Rob Holman on Vimeo.

There's more to come, Poogie fans. Hang in there.

The Jimmy Leg

2011-04-07T22:10:00.000-04:00

Will has an overactive right leg. He's either communicating in jimmy-leg Morse code like Joe Bonham or he's just happy to see us.

I'd prefer to think he's just happy to see us.

Cue the Metallica.

Time to Play Catch-Up by Jumping Around the Camera

2011-04-06T23:06:00.000-04:00

Amazing what you find when you get fifteen minutes and finally unload your digital camera. We had a trip to Terre Haute and Bloomington for the Mayor's birthday, another visit to the Kendall Hills sledding spot (but I refuse to post pictures of snow in April), a gymnastics outing with the kids, intense potty training sessions, and Josephine's third birthday -- all hidden on the digital camera.

I'm pushing overtime so here it goes.

Joey's throne.

A little Mario DS. A little turd dropping.

The following video is the answer to the trivia question we posted on Twitter. Joey had her big birthday bash and was unable to make it through a rendition of Happy Birthday without crying. I think when that happens that it means six more years of some kind of social anxiety disorder.

Caroline and her cousin Sydney at our favorite Terre Haute pizza parlor.

Will meets Buddy. Quickly impresses Buddy with his sleeping ability.

Caroline takes the helm of a farm implement. No word on whether corn is officially stupid.

A Rapunzel-themed birthday cake for Lil' Joe.

As close as Joey would get to her cake before the singing started.

Campbell makes the neighbor boy (Will) drool.

Proof of drool. The pediatrician can check the box on Will's healthy salivary glands.

The Hankster discovers the joy of being raised by a teacher.

The Genius of Advertising

2011-04-05T22:24:00.000-04:00

I don't mind pimping McDonalds on this. This is one of my all-time favorite commercials and since it is Lent season, it is timely.

Enjoy.

The Five Picture Road Challenge

2011-03-21T21:50:00.002-04:00

Last week started an unholy travel schedule for the self-proclaimed Mayor of Poogieville.

A two day stint in our nation's capital last week has given way to a four-city southern Ohio jaunt, soon to be followed by Philly, Baltimore, Chicago and Connecticut (yes, the whole state is up for this one) in the span of three weeks and change. Meanwhile, back home, there are Caroline's busy soccer games (she gets a hot fudge sundae for each boy she knocks down), a blossoming social calendar for the Hankster -- soon to include the pinging of aluminum bats, the ever-amazing Joey (who celebrates #3 on April 3rd), a rapidly growing young lad named William the Well-Fed and Still Hungry and the day trips that Erica and I have planned to escape into the woods.

We haven't determined if the kids are coming with us or not.

That's life, folks. Then, you become food for worms.

Speaking of food for worms, tonight I was confronted with an awesome array of bad food choices at my first stop of the Ohio trip -- Washington Court House, Ohio.

I'm a sucker for crappy food. I'm also going to die earlier than I should because of it. That's my Ruthian shot being called.

Tonight's ode to fast food excess comes courtesy of Chipotle AND Long John Silver's. Yes, that's no typo. I couldn't choose between the two, so I went with both.

To my cardiologist, here's proof of a preexisting condition:

Yeah, I know.

If it makes you feel better, my diet starts April 1st and no, I didn't finish or come close to finishing this over-indulgence of carbs and saturated fat. It was mostly because I told Erica I was going to do it and the corresponding reaction she gives to my "bridge-too-far" risk taking.

I did snap a self-portrait, though.

What time is the continental breakfast?

Okay, now with that long opening segue finally and breathlessly completed, I shall explain the title of this post.

Upon leaving Poogieville City Hall today, I challenged the misses to send me five (turned out to be six plus one video) pictures that typified their day while I was gone. My challenge was then to be able to successfully road blog the pictures with witty or stupid or both captions.

Unfortunately, after arranging the pictures and giving them some thought, I concluded that the only emotion I can truly muster is a longing desire to be home with E and the kiddies. You see, it's quite an environment to sit back and watch the interaction of 7-5-3-baby along with the greatest mother/wife anywhere.

After all, sometimes the most profound thing you say is nothing more than the silent reverence and love you have for your own.

In other words, shut up and enjoy the moment.

Oh and by the way, no offense southern Ohio, but you suck. You're nearly intolerable.

Now with all quarters fully spoken for, here are the pictures that have me wishing I was home.

Mommy and Will

I'm sure shortly before tackling the girls in the newly fertilized lawn.

Caroline's bear hug of little Joey.

Will and the girls.

Will is now wearing Henry's old clothes and every time we pull another Henry hand-me-down out Erica and I get misty.

Henry & Caroline.

Be home soon, gang.

GOOOOOAAAAALLLLLL! Caroline Scores First Official Holman Family Goal in Soccer

2011-03-13T11:02:00.001-04:00

Click here to view these pictures larger

Bike to Work?

2011-03-02T20:14:00.000-05:00

I've been thinking about biking to work at least once a week this summer.

After watching this video, I'm thinking I should stick to the Towpath.

I will hand it to the rider. This is pretty rad! That's a biker term of art, in case you were wondering about me.

For the Sake of Blogging Something...

2011-02-17T21:33:00.000-05:00

The winter thaw is beginning here on the North Coast. Yeah, I realize by saying that I probably just jinxed it.

Toughen up, peeps. This is Cleveland.

We're in the midst of transitioning into the busy spring season here in Poogieville. Baseball for Henry. Soccer for Caroline. Potty training for Joey. Daily blowouts for Will.

Seriously, the kid literally has a green stripe on his back every day.

Mom is running around keeping everything in order. I'm working on keeping everything in disarray. It's busy.

For those interested in Willie's latest vitals, he's growing at a rate never-before-seen in the Holman house. At two months, he's already shredding the previous weight and length records.

I cried a small tear at the thought of being able to pass along my gold Swenson's coins to the only boy in the house -- other than me -- who may some day enjoy the fruited nectar of the Galley Boy.

At seven years of age, Henry still has never tasted a hamburger. He refuses to eat them.

Weirdo.

On the flip side, he'll probably live until he's 125.

Don't know why you'd want to, but what the heck? I applaud Henry's stubborn pursuit of perfection. I'm sure he'll be a real hit at the Shady Acres Nursing Home in one hundred years.

After all, we know he's got some awesome dance moves.

Ladies?

Anyhoo. I put together a few pictures that made me laugh hoping we could speed up the time until spring. Enjoy!

Apparently, Joey thinks there are basketball buzzers at the Cleveland Zoo.

Will, you are named after the vagrant pictured in the barn jacket below. Reaction.

One of my favorite pictures of all time. Bill at the Browns tailgate in 2005. Social anxiety disorder in full effect. An instant classic.

One of the few New Year's parties when Erica was not with child or nursing one. I like the contrast between my disgusting undershirt and Erica's well-laundered white blouse. What a slob!

The Original Strawberry Shortcake.

Hilton Head Island - 2010. Sunglasses optional.

Tracking Will

2011-02-03T20:41:00.000-05:00

Erica has another good idea. She told me I needed to put some more updated pictures of Will on the blog. As always, she's right. Therefore, the Poogie shall abide.

Nana's new snuggle buddy.

Wide-eyed brothers.

Little Erica has been a mainstay in the nursery.

The Meatball.

A balding WC Holman.

Henry's "jam-it-in" approach leaves much to be desired.

Will scanning the horizon.

World's Greatest Overreactions to Modern Weather Phenomena

2011-02-02T21:51:00.001-05:00

This is too easy.

Note to Jim Cantore: Poogie has you covered on what you just witnessed.

Click here.

UPDATE: Nice try, Weather Channel on copyrighting Mr. Cantore's embarrassing reaction. However, the Internet is written in ink.

But, we are not done. Remember this ridiculous display of humanity?

Note to Hungrybear9562: Poogie wants you to submit to a urine test (or let us drink from the red cup) before answering what you just witnessed.

Click here.

We should be done, right?

Wrong.

Did you forget what today is? Well, let us remind you.

Note to Punxsutawney Phil: Do yourself a favor and contract rabies this year. Maul your handlers and end this stupid ritual once and for all.

Oh, and thanks for not seeing your shadow or whatever the hell it means to encourage an early spring.

Hip Hop Henry

2011-01-29T22:37:00.000-05:00

Speechless.

January Through Caroline's Lense

2011-01-29T20:59:00.001-05:00

We've said it here before.

January is a BORING month.

The holidays are over. It's flipping cold out. Up here on the North Coast of the United States, the lake is nearly frozen and, as a result, the "pretty" lake effect snow is replaced by day after day after day of cloudy skies and twenty degree temps.

It sucks.

January is also a depressing month.

Don't believe me? Click here.

You can see what January does to us here in Poogieville. We have resorted to namecalling Henry's soccer coach (again, sorry dude) and posting Michael Caine videos.

Admittedly, we are a mess.

Last year, we posted the randomness of family pictures to pass the January blahs. I liked that theme. Therefore, we again welcome you to view more random photos.

This year's edition comes from Caroline's first camera. She got a V-Tech digital camera for Christmas. She's taken 468 pictures since then. We downloaded all of them.

Enjoy!

A self-portrait.

Maybe Grandma's best picture of the year.

A two week old Will (with hair).

Apparently taken before Caroline got laid out.

Grandpa says cheese.

It's hard to snap a picture of the fast moving Joey.

Mom & Henry

Using Michael Caine Humor to Pass the Time

2011-01-29T20:35:00.002-05:00

It's been a long cold winter here, but this makes us laugh.

*** Salty British language warning***

The Bill Holman of Youth Soccer Coaching

2011-01-13T23:20:00.001-05:00

Henry has officially started his 2011 soccer campaign.

He's got a stat sheet nerd as a coach.

Coach Larsen, if you are reading this, I would say the same thing to you in person. It isn't a bad thing. Just something that does not make those of us parents, who don't find the number of times your seven-year old strikes a soccer ball, very interested.

My brother would love you, though. After all, who else would keep statistics of a co-ed U8 soccer league AND post the statistics on the Internet?

My brother would, that's who.

See for yourself and follow Henry's passive soccer season by clicking here.

Merry Christmas, Poogie Fans.

2010-12-24T22:57:00.000-05:00

To those of you who enjoy checking in on us, we wish you a Merry Christmas!

Now I know what my parents meant.

Caroline Ushers in Christmas...With Singing and Motions!

2010-12-21T11:13:00.000-05:00

Caroline is a shy child.

However, this year, she gave us her best performance at her Christmas program. She sang all of the songs and did the motions. For those of you who know her shyness, this was a big event.

Caroline is seated in the green dress in the second row middle. It may be a challenge to see her, but I wanted to give the singer her due.

Enjoy.

Basketball Jones and the Unbeaten Streak

2010-12-20T13:05:00.000-05:00

What a great title for an alternative rock band, eh?

Henry made his first visit to Quicken Loans Arena on Saturday for Twinburg Basketball League night with the Cavaliers. The Cavs were riding a ten game losing streak and facing the New York Knicks. It had all the makings for a long evening.

Fortunately for Henry and the Cavs, I was there.

You see, I have a perfect 2010 record watching live Cavs home games. I brought the Cavs through the home opener against the Celtics and my cosmic karma brought them through a nail-biter against the dreaded New York Knicks.

2 and 0 in 2010 is no small feat for a Cleveland sport fan -- especially for the Cavs "AL" (after LeBron).

Now for the important stuff regarding Henry's visit to the Q.

It was Henry's first NBA game. For his sake, he should probably stop now. It's only downhill from here.

Fortunately for Henry, the NBA caters to two market demographics: (1) seven-year old boys and (2) the friendless corporate scumbag.

Exploding scoreboards. Street dancing. Scantily-clad women. Eight dollar Miller Lites.

Even the basketball was suspect.

But enough about the game.

Henry got to play on the court prior to the game. He and a couple of his TBL teammates joined him for a pregame shootaround.

Henry scored more points than Jamario Moon and Jawad Williams combined -- 4.

In case you didn't know (and why would you?), those are two Cavs who played a combined 33 minutes on Saturday night and only scored three points.

My boy is money.

Henry and the gang prior to their close-up.

In the lockerroom before hitting the hardwood. (Yes, that's a hat that looks like a basketball net on the kid next to Henry -- another reason why Moms shouldn't shop for their sons).

Henry (in jeans) making it rain jumpers in the Q.

Two jokes here.
First, Henry is the one in the middle. Second, that was as active as J.J. Hickson was all night.

Henry and Grandpa getting ready for a plate of nachos prior to the game.

Henry during a timeout anticipating the excitement of overtime!

Henry was so excited after the game that he woke up the next day and introduced his sisters like the Cavs PA announcer.

He's hooked.

There are worse things to be hooked on at this age.

Why I No Longer Play Fantasy Sports?

2010-12-17T11:34:00.002-05:00

Fantasy sports is a huge industry.

I used to enjoy playing it with friends and family. Then, I had an epiphany.

Playing fantasy sports makes you a dork.

I'm a self-described dork, but even I can see the dead-end that is fantasy sports.

I have felt this way for a while now, but I haven't been able to find the perfect reason why I don't get involved anymore.

Where can someone looking for the answers find the shining light? Where can reason be gleaned from the unreasonable?

To the flock, I give you Terre Haute, Indiana.

Click on the link below.

All family brawl takes fantasy out of football

Where else would you expect a family fantasy football league to turn into a broken nose, a broken orbital bone and a felonious assault?

Stay classy, Terre Haute.

Will Plus Two: Resuming Lap Position

2010-12-14T10:12:00.001-05:00

Click here to view these pictures larger

Will Meets Part of the Family

2010-12-12T20:51:00.002-05:00

Click here to view these pictures larger

William Christopher Holman (Will)

2010-12-11T16:29:00.000-05:00

Will has arrived!

8 lbs., 11 ounces.

Mom and Will are resting and doing great! More to come later. Need to get back to the hospital.

The Beard

2010-11-24T22:23:00.001-05:00

Beards. A Poogie pictoral history.

Follow me, won't you?

Ambrose Burnside (he was a Hoosier, BTW) - his beard was so good, they named sideburns after him.

The only symphony conductor who can't score with the chicks.

Who said this was a man's game?

The author of the Gettysburg Address and the Chin Strap.

Did you know that Colonel Sanders is responsible for that stupid looking metrosexual, sliver beard and artherosclerosis?

Longaberger's new spokesperson.

El Comandante - makes Cuban beard and dental hygiene look like, well, Cuba.

Somewhere, his mother weeps -- silently.

Shock and awe that's such a ratty looking beard, but a Poogie-favorite beard nonetheless.

The inspirational, societal indifference beard.

Why the painful look at beards?

Well, there are roughly fifteen days and counting before I retire the latest installment of the third trimester sympathy beard. I thought it might be ~~appropriate~~ self-aggrandizing to spend the remainder of this odd post dedicated to my freakish looking, felon's beard.

Let's celebrate us some facial hair, shall we?

Body temperature 98.6 degrees -- 100.4 degrees with the beard.

I was going for pensive here. I think we managed to do the opposite.

My mug shot.

Beards can have parental obligations.

Beards can also repent.

December 10th can't get here fast enough.

Happy Thanksgiving to you and yours!

Henry is a Baller

2010-11-24T21:11:00.001-05:00

Click here to view these pictures larger

The Fire Dance

2010-11-13T09:59:00.000-05:00

Henry was surrounded by frenzied female fans (we call that alliteration) at last night's Bob/Helen Marriage Redux (a good time, BTW).

Unfortunately for them, Henry did not give in to the requests to show off his fire dance.

In the video below, you will see why.

He needs ten feet of space and somewhere to throw his shirt.

Please note that Henry is not responsible for female fainting spells as a result of the above.

The Quick Recap

2010-11-08T19:46:00.000-05:00

Yeah, I know. We haven't been keeping up our end of the blog bargain here in Poogieville.

Relax.

Here's the quick recap:

1. We went back to Terre Haute a few weeks ago. Saw a quarter and change of a South football game. They lost. Ate Taco Casita carry-out served by a 1993 THS grad. Didn't know who had it better. Did the 'Stube and lost. Bought clothes at Roots (yeah, I know it's Macy's for you, but not for me). Crushed nuts at Dobbs Park.

No, I'm not going to explain that.

2. We carved pumpkins.

3. We did Year 3 of the Fungo with the neighbor, my dad, and my brothers. I did not break my Moob this year.

4. We celebrated CP3's 5th birthday.

5. We trick-or-treated.

That's all I can comment on. There's a bigger issue in the Holman house these days.

We're staring at T-minus one month and counting until another large-headed, Holman boy will grace the world's maternity ward. Trying to juggle two girls sleeping together in a twin bed, potty training Joey, dealing with Henry "the Human Rain Delay" Holman, wading through multiple CP3 meltdowns and heading into the busy holiday season is tough work.

Erica is doing remarkably well.

Me? I'm getting a kick out of the curious onlookers when we go to restaurants. Three kids under 7. A wife who is ready to pop. Me with my sloppy, convicted felon's beard.

Guess which one does not go with the others?

Anyway, here's what you've been missing.

Joey (Ariel), Henry (the Ninja), and Caroline (as Erica...I mean as a cheerleader)

Caroline's well-attended 5th birthday jam.

Even Gandolf made it for Caroline's party.

Will, these are two of your four namesakes. I know you have your work cut out for you.

Caroline's birthday cake. FB Erica for the details.

Is it really their pumpkin if someone else risks digits and sanity to carve it?

Pumpkin Patches in NE Ohio: The Obligatory Pilgrimage

2010-10-11T20:58:00.001-04:00

We hit Patterson's Farm on a Browns Sunday.

They lost. We won. No one sprained an ankle during our outing.

The same cannot be said for our friends in Berea.

Henry

Caroline

Josephine

Keeping with tradition, no pumpkins were purchased during our visit to the pumpkin patch. However, Henry did manage to score dinner.

That's a $5 bag of corn that was actually worth every penny.

Ssshhh! Let Me Tell You a Secret...

2010-10-07T17:00:00.000-04:00

It's our 10th wedding anniversary today.

The traditional gift is tin or aluminum. The modern gift is a diamond. The gift flower is a daffodil.

I'm busy making a diamond encrusted, tin-plated daffodil plant holder for Erica.

In the meantime, I wanted to share something with you that Erica and I have been holding onto for a few weeks now.

And before you go there, Erica approves of this message.

Our gift to you is knowledge, or advance warning as the case may be.

You see, the little baby in Erica's belly is a boy.

Hide your daughters. See you on December 10th!

More from the Pig Roast: Pictures of People I Know (And Don't)

2010-10-05T22:05:00.000-04:00

We're still sifting through pictures of the pig roast. Unfortunately, like last time, I didn't take enough photos.

Two reasons for this.

First, the simple math that you already have heard ad nauseum. 1.5 hours of sleep. A beer glass that strobed a mini-laser light show while drinking. The intoxicating vapors of a fine ~~Anheuser Busch~~ In Bev beer product. Blah-blah-blah.

I was drinking.

Second, the fact that our outing was like a wedding reception. No time to sit and chit-chat.

Next year -- if there's a next year for the roast -- I am designating a photographer and relinquishing that duty.

So, from the limited pictures below, you can extract what you will from the roast.

The under-appreciated hog.

Erica, Sydney Zucker and the hungry Zaffiros.

I know what's missing from those plates.

This really shouldn't have happened.

Erica Z. and the girls.

The reason Kia is removing cupholders from its 2011 models.

The Wallace family. Fresh off an afternoon of college football.

Jamie Flaherty with an unidentified random child who may or may not be holding an alcoholic beverage.

My friend Cooter prior to his parole hearing.

Penn Staters apparently go Stein. I opted for the epileptic powers of the mini-strobe.

Okay, okay. I added a few family photos in there.

I had to.

Seriously, I took eight pictures at the actual roast. Pathetic.

Someone is going to have to tell me what happened in my life. I'm apparently not keeping a good record of events.

Anyway, we'll see all of you in the backyard next year.

Till then...

The Pig Roast: Preparation, Drinking and Being Tired

2010-09-30T22:18:00.000-04:00

A couple of weeks ago, we threw down with the latest installment of the backyard pig roast. By all accounts, it was a success.

I'll have to take the critics' word on the subject.

I was working on 1.5 hours of sleep and 26 hours of beer drinking.

A rough weekend.

The roast was co-hosted by the Flaherty family and assisted by numerous neighbors. A hearty thank you to all who joined us on Friday and Saturday.

Here are the preparation pictures:

This is Gary II. The pig, not the Flaherty.

The Gary II Roaster - comfortably seats one 175 lb. pig.

Gary and Jim assisting Gary II.

Henry volunteered to act as a measuring device.

The pig was roughly three Henrys.

How do you ruin a childhood?

Jack Wallace. Pig roast legend.

No one does backyard cuisine like we do.

The Mop.

In case you were wondering, he's asleep.

Speechless.

Chris Lewis shows off his inner Howard Hughes.

You would think the pole played a larger role in this game.

There were only two morons who nursed the roaster through the night.

One of us -- not wearing red -- even managed to sleep through most of the early morning and leave the 4a and 6a mops to a solo artist.

Yeah, I nailed it. Hope you slept well, Flaherty.

What do you do when you finish undressing the pig at 10:30a?

You drink.

The preparation highlights:

Pig roasts and garage sales do not mix.
Having multiple pig roast "experts" dissecting every pig roast decision. Too large of a pig. Too early of a start time. Too much charcoal. Not enough charcoal. Too much rub. Not enough rub. Hickory smoke versus Apple smoke. Face the roaster north-south. Face it east-west. Take the temperature at 4a. Wait till 8a. Pull to eat. Cut to eat. Hilarious. This just in...you can't F up a pig roast.
Jack Wallace. Honest. Chock full of side-splitting stories. Sponsored by the Red Man Plug. I love that guy and I want him at every party I do from here on out.
A tent that survived two Thursday thunderstorms.
Letting Gary walk right into my brother's "talking-about-work" phobia. Note to Gary: let us know if you ever find anything out about it. We are still unsure he even works there.
Estate Avenue is a straight shot. The first wall you hit is not the problem, it's the second one that'll get you in trouble.
Still not understanding the secret dig behind the Handsome Rob line.
Being able to avoid sharing the "New Year's Eve" story with new friends.
Penn State still sucks.
No one works a fire like Jim. No one. Seriously, I don't think he will let you.
Being "awakened" at 8a with George's Donuts. Erica, you rock!
The Flaherty and Wallace families. You'll be so sorry you started hanging around us.
The best part of a pig roast is the 12 hours you have cooking the pig the night before. Again, that time did not disappoint.
Staring at the sky at 4:30a when everyone was asleep.
Battling trains, neighborhood booty calls and random snoring for sleep.
Jim's patio loungers.
Pork.
The value of CO2.
Watching Bill roll out the barrel. Literally. Home slice rolled a full beer keg up the driveway. Thought it was going to explode when tapped. Thankfully, CO2 neutralized the keg bomb.
My $9 GWL beer glass.
Jim's Mop Sauce. I would have drank it if no one had stopped me.

First Grade, Cincinnati and the Outdoor Fungi

2010-08-31T22:30:00.001-04:00

Bear with me, I'll make that title work.

Henry started first grade a few weeks ago. Rather than show you the obligatory video of the bus coming down the street to pick Henry up and blah-blah-blah (because we've got that video if you want it), I'm just going to simply state that Hank is awesome and could make a wool sweater fit comfortably in August.

He is excited about school this year.

He's a social kid. He'll be fine as long as he doesn't shove any more legumes up his ear canal.

Our real test comes about this time next year when the Lil' E goes to kindergarten.

Yowch!

We may have to knock her out just to get her on the bus.

Mommy and Henry at the bus stop for the first day.

Last weekend, we joined the Calvin family in Cincinnati, Ohio for some waterparking and a baseball game.

Dave Calvin is my best friend from IU. He saved my life on Mount Rainier, taught me how to adapt to the unfamiliar and gave me the worst possible advice concerning Milwaukee County Stadium alcohol consumption policies.

In return for all of that, I make him laugh and gave him the nickname "Bundy".

I guess that's worth the equivalency. I'll be trying to figure out a way to repay him for the rest of my existence.

Anyway, the Cubs-Reds game was the first official MLB for both Caroline and Josephine.

They lasted until the bitter end.

The Cubs won, 3-2.

Here's the boxscore, Dad.

Free children's lipstick to the first three Holman children in attendance.

Bundy and Bob.

View from the seats.
I'm pretty sure whatever he was selling, we bought it.

Caroline thinks Cub fans are wussies.

Henry and the strange scab that joined us on our trip.

Mommy and Joey at the 7th inning stretch

For Those About to Rock (for my Father's Day Present)...

2010-08-31T21:33:00.001-04:00

Due to schedule complications with our favorite babysitters and thus an inability to free Erica from the kids for the evening, my long awaited Father's Day gift was shared with Billy Brew.

What, you ask, did I get for Father's Day?

Tickets to see Built to Spill.

You're welcome.

A couple of admissions here.

First, I didn't shoot the video. I was busy drinking with Bill and watching the show.

Second, Doug Martsch is my hero. He's the bearded dude making his guitar gently weep for you.

Third, he bears a striking resemblance to UB.

That's my uncle in case you don't follow the blog. He's another of my heroes.

UB drinks beer, too.

Speaking of beer, after Billy and I destroyed an untold number of cold and frosties, I summoned the courage to personally thank Mr. Martsch for the effort after the show.

You can do that at Musica in Akron.

Because he is the most awesome guitar hero on the planet and the most normal looking guitar shredder in history, it shouldn't surprise anyone to know that he calmly shook my hand and thanked me for coming to the show.

Cue the Chris Farley.

"That was awesome!"

Happy Father's Day to me. Thanks, Erica.

Hilton Head Island, South Carolina: Act III

2010-08-17T22:57:00.002-04:00

The final Act of the HHI vacation is Hilton Head Island, SC.

We stayed in Sea Pines this year. If that means anything to you, I should congratulate you. All it meant to us what that each time we ventured outside of Sea Pines it took an extra 30 minutes to get back.

Kind of a pain, really.

The rental was nice. The aforementioned pool and a convenient little "bait-and-switch" known as an inoperable hot tub. Fortunately, there was no charge on the latter.

You know things aren't going well for fixing it when the contractors they hire to repair the thing refuse to acknowledge you and disguise their incompetence in a foreign language.

Don't know what was going to be accomplished in said hot tub with a heat index approaching 110 degrees, but I'm sure it probably would have killed someone.

Anyway, that was not the only flirtation with a form of vacation disaster.

There were several near misses.

Roughly two hours after acquiring access to the rental, we nearly burned the mother-F-er down.

Yep. You heard me.

Miami of Ohio Spring Formals have nothing on the Holmans.

All I will say to protect the identity of the perpetrator is to say that you should never, ever "warm" a cardboard pizza box in an unfamiliar oven and you should never, ever leave it unattended.

Sadly, those involved were sober at the time. Happily, one of them doubles as a pirate and literally pulled the flaming boxes out of the oven with his/her bare hands.

Even recreation within the vacation had notable hazards.

Bill and I played the Sea Pines Ocean Course with an early morning tee time. First tee, second shot. Bill leaves the golf cart near his ball and a murky, but harmless looking lagoon. I jump out of the cart and nearly step onto a 15 foot alligator resting nearby.

Never saw the damn thing.

Probably should have.

After all, it's a F-ing ALLIGATOR!

I'm not good at golf, but do you really need a live alligator as a playing hazard?

Luckily, it was Bill who had to swing near the thing.

I needed a change of underwear and had 17 more holes to walk it off.

As an aside, it's too hot to play golf in August in SC. It's also too hot to drink beers while golfing in SC. Our other half -- we were joined by a Pittsburgher and the poor bastard who married into a Steeler family on the links -- consumed four beers apiece. It was in the 90's with a dew point plus 80 degrees.

I marveled at their ~~stupidity~~ ability.

Billy and I managed to choke down a few despite the intolerable conditions.

We're Holmans.

Skipping on...

The swimmers, the involuntary divers and the rest.

(Dig Bro-ham's Dog Paddle)

Henry and Caroline at dusk.

Maura and Caroline celebrating the spoils of involuntary promise keeping.

Just the ~~three~~ four of us.

What happens when yentas start snapping pictures.

Maddy gives a thumbs up to phony pink eye outbreaks.

You'd be on your ass too if you were hot, pregnant and miserable!

Joey and Mommy assume the beach position.

Crocs calendar 2011.

Why I locked my door each night.

Did someone say Noodle Rainbow?

Shortly before switching her to the basket.

Billy and the Boogie Boarder.

Okay, so the credits have run on another HHI vacation and you're still here.

Let's close this thing out with a set of quick hits on HHI - 2010.

1. Likes: Mellow Mushroom Pizza, the unburnt version of Giuseppi's Pizza; Grouper - day one and two; Yuengling Beer; 813-402; our new Facebook catchphrase "....I didn't sign up for this one! LOL!; and air conditioning.

2. Dislikes: Grouper - every day thereafter; Bill's ~~leprosy~~ poison ivy issues; damage waivers; jellyfish; zealous garbage collectors; and being stupid.

3. I've been trying for three years to get the family into the ultimate tourist trap on HHI -- the Salty Dog Cafe.

This year, we finally made it.

Guess what? It sucked.

Go figure.

Maybe twenty tables. A one hour wait for lunch. Pub grub disguised as haute cuisine?

I had grouper. Thanks for asking.

But the tee shirts are cool aren't they?

A webcam can prove our ability to check this one off the list.

That's me at the bar stool and me Bill in my shirt with the red hat on the official Salty Dog Webcam.

Notice the thermometer reading.

Great golf weather, eh?

It's not a sunset, it's a sunrise.

See you next year, HHI.

Savannah, Georgia: Act II

2010-08-16T21:29:00.002-04:00

Savannah is another cool, old city.

Where else can you get free lap dances and flowers made out of straw?

Why Savannah, Georgia, of course.

This year, we sprinkled a new twist to the Savannah, GA visit by scheduling an afternoon dolphin cruise down the Savannah River and into the Atlantic Ocean. More on that in a moment.

We start today's installment with an out-of-focus picture of what the locals call "Chatham Artillery Punch".

Appropriately blurry image of a drink designed to kill you -- slowly.

This year, Bill joined me in partaking the CAP at the Shrimp Factory on River Street.

I likes me a drink with a little history.

For those interested, here's the abbreviated Poogie version of the story.

The Chatham Artillery dates back to 1786. They like shooting cannons to celebrate funerals and George Washington. Their chicks like to make fruity drinks because it is hotter than Hell in Savannah. They put out a bowl of oranges and water to drink. The artillery dudes start laughing at them. They start pulling out flasks of whisky, rum, brandy, battery acid, Fire Water (that one is for you, bro) and the head of Alfredo Garcia. They are hot and drunk and start pouring this mixture into the skull of Charles Cornwallis or Stonewall Jackson (I was a little fuzzy on that one). The dudes then top it off with some champagne to cover their tracks before the chicks find out what they've done to their version of orange-aide.

Chatham Artillery Punch is born.

Don't believe me? Sure, I have been infected with the stuff, but my version is pretty close. See below. Enlarge it for the full effect.

Did you read those ingredients? Yikes.

Here's what it looks like in today's terms.

$250 bucks for a buzz?

Anyway, Bill and I powered through CAP after the dolphin cruise. Although, it is possible that we were never on the cruise at all. The CAP shaved a month off my life.

There's an alleged one drink limit, but we got the glass for posterity's sake. I am toying with the idea of brewing the CAP for the pig roast.

Any takers?

Any-who. Here are the rest of the pictures.

Finding shade while waiting for Justin Bieber to load us onto the dolphin cruise.

Joey wonders why the Earth is melting.

Downtown Savannah, GA from the back of the Dolphin Magic.

A glistening Mommy feigning a smile as we hurtle down the river at 25 knots.

The dolphin cruise was a good break from downtown Savannah.

Yes, we saw dolphins, but unfortunately, my camera succumbed to the heat and humidity and stopped working. I know Bill captured some dolphins jumping in the wake of the boat.

I was kind of expecting the dolphins to jump into the boat since that's what it looks like on the Dolphin Magic website.

Check it out below.

....unless you subsequently drink the CAP.

Amazing how you can photoshop your way into the "experience you'll never forget."

Reality is so yesterday.

Charleston, South Carolina: Act I

2010-08-15T23:04:00.000-04:00

The Poogsters were joined by Holmans-South (Bill's family) on this year's version of our HHI vacation. Due to an overabundance of photos, videos, pictograms, etch-a-sketch renderings and cave drawings from this year's vacation, I will try -- again -- to be brief.

There were lots of visuals to choose from, so I'm going to break this up into three daily blogs. Act I is the Charleston, SC portion of the trip. Act II is the Savannah, GA portion of the trip. Act III is the HHI portion of the trip.

For those of you who appreciate good humor and a second version -- or often times better version -- of the same story, try my brother's blog.

He was there. He took more pictures. He also does landscaping.

For those of you who are still here, let's dispense with the typical BS questions one usually asks to another when asking about a vacation.

I have no time for subtleties.

First, it was fun. Beach, pool, dinner. Repeat five times. I wore wife beater tee shirts for five straight days and flashed a daily dose of milky white moobs for all of the vacationing upper-crusters on the island.

I could sense their fear.

Second, it was hot. After all, it's August in South Carolina. Heat indexes each day topped 105 degrees.

No rain, except for that unholy event in Charleston, SC on the way in.

More on that in a moment.

Third, the kids were great. Considering we encountered ear infections, an outbreak of pink eye, daily sniffles and coughs, a curious potty regression of pooped-in underwear (hey dude, you asked for it and you are going to get it) and the normal daily dose of whining and complaining, the kids took everything in stride and had a blast.

So, you want your Poogie vignette?

Let us commence.

This is Kevin. Kevin is a big, overworked, lazy, loose-boweled draft horse.

If Kevin could talk, he would tell you to go F yourself.

Kevin took us on a horse-drawn carriage ride around Charleston, South Carolina for the first part of our three-legged vacation.

It was hotter than nuclear fission on our trip around Charleston. Rather than melt on a boat trip to Fort Sumter, we let Kevin -- yes, that was his name -- take us around town.

Kevin is wonderful in the downtown Charleston traffic. In fact, if he does not like the way you approach a right hand turn, he will stop in front of your white minivan and work out a fresh batch of "avenue biscuit" in your presence.

Kevin is one of my new heroes.

What about the kids?

Well, the kids did wonderful considering the 90 minute ride and the 90 degree temps.

I took pictures to prove it.

Josie wonders why her skin is melting in the heat and why her left eye is beginning to itch.

BTW, Erica is freaking awesome. Need a distraction for 90 minutes? No problem, she pulls out lollipops or flavored water or a Roman Candle. The woman is amazing.

She saved the kids' day in Charleston.

Anyway, here are more photos from the trip.

Random old Charleston building photographed to make me look like I was writing a book on architecture.

If I had been alive in 1861 AND in Charleston, I would have hidden in this alley.

Sugar makes kids think less about heat stroke -- until they collapse from heat stroke.

Hey, this would be a great house for my fake book on Southern architecture.

BAR-B-Q!!!!

My quick hits on Charleston, SC:

1. Charleston is a cool old city, but a tad too close to the commercialization level of a hip lifestyle center. For example, being able to buy Abercrombie & Fitch on the same street -- and possibly from the same building -- where they used to sell human beings is a little weird to me.

Perhaps a little more history and a little less consumption would be a better homage to the city.

I'm just sayin'.

BTW, why does Abercrombie & Fitch smell like a French whorehouse? And what is that God-awful stench that emanates from every store? Are they brainwashing us with their cheap cologne?

It reminds me of what the cool kids used to bathe themselves in before Honey Creek Junior High mixers.

I used to bathe myself in dork sweat.

2. Bessinger's Barbecue. Solid food. We were lucky to be staying down the street from Bessinger's in Charleston. Instead of staying downtown after the carriage ride, we humped it back to Bessinger's. Smart move. The Hickory smoke led me like a cartoon character into the dining room. Good eats!

3. Slander. This one goes out to you Lindsey (our tour guide). When you stop next to a run down old Southern mansion and a tour participant asks you why the house is run down, here are the answers you should choose from in the future:

a) I don't know.
b) The economy has been tough on everyone.
c) I'm sorry. I can't understand you when you mumble. Speak louder next time.
d) Another person's trash is another person's treasure.

Never, ever answer the question this way:

"The owner is crazy. Yeah, she's a little wacky. You know, a couple cards short in the deck."

You see, your answer is -- or borders on -- what we like to call slander. Instead of fixing her home up to the standards of the tour participant, that allegedly "crazy" person is going to become an owner of your carriage company when she sues you for slandering her in public.

Again, I'm just sayin'.

Party Like It's 1995?

2010-08-05T20:01:00.001-04:00

Last weekend, we made our way back to Terre Haute for Erica's 15-year high school reunion.

(Needle scratch)

"You did what?"

Yes, I attended a high school reunion in Terre Haute, Indiana.

Didn't see that one coming, did you?

But before you break out the hypocrite blasts and call me out, the catch is that I went to Erica's reunion, not mine.

Settle down, I'm not crazy.

[Yes, that back-handed slap was directed at you, Class of 1993. You know who you are.]

Anyway, for those who give a crap -- and why would you -- there was nothing redeeming about my high school experience prior to September 5, 1992. Like you, I remember awkwardness. I remember chicks with big hair. I remember pegged jeans. I remember cans of Lite Beer and overplayed Steve Miller music. I remember failing at being cool and being cool with the idea of failure. The typical four years of being hopped up on hormones and the sad realization that nothing was going to be amazing like I imagined as a kid and we were all going to meet in the proverbial "middle" at some point.

On my way to high school melancholy, I met an energetic lifesaver who threw my whole experience upside down.

(wait for it)

Chris Hoffman, you complete me.

Nah. Just kidding.

(C'mon, you're not reading this to be mushy and nostalgic, are you?)

Anyway, Erica's reunion was a good time.

Watching Erica with her friends from high school brought back good memories for both of us. Of course, by the sixth beer -- only four of which I paid for -- the memories were beginning to merge with my blurring sense of balance.

Oh, and by the way, Eric Tracy? I think the bartender charged a few of my beers on your tab.  Sorry, bro. I'll get you back at the 20th.

Here's a snapshot of what else made me chuckle:

1. Upon arriving at the reunion, I blasted, head first, into one of the poles at Stables Restaurant.  Never saw the damn thing. I don't think anyone saw me, but I'm sure it was hilarious if you did.

2. The awkwardness. I was -- and still am -- a douche bag. Therefore, having awkward silences with people who know me only as "Erica's boyfriend/husband from high school" doesn't give me much material to work with.

My apologies to all of you who realize that I have no interesting segues.

3. That said, my favorite segue of the night came from Lindsay's husband who had to stop me in mid-boring anecdote to rush to the bathroom to avoid pissing himself.

Yes, I was that boring. Sorry, Trevor. It made me laugh, though.

4. The DJ. Scruffy dude, sleeve-less Harley Davidson shirt AND a fan of Black Eyed Peas? I did not see that one coming. I even liked the scratch version he played of a few BEP songs.   Edgy, man. Although, I don't remember that music from 1995 - not that things have improved much in that department.

5.  Erica's propensity to take picture after picture with the same quasi-vacant cheerleader smile. I have been trying to figure out how she does that. Amazing. Did your cheerleading coach teach that to you or something?

6. The fertility of the class of 1995. Everyone had a minimum of 6 kids. What's with you people? I was worried that Erica might get pregnant just attending the event and standing next to you guys.

I was glad I beat your horn-dog class to that one.

Alright. Enough talky-talky.  Here's the only picture I managed not to take:

We should have put a name tag on Erica's bump.

Traverse City: Cherries and Waterslides

2010-08-03T22:29:00.000-04:00

A recent health scare in Poogieville has brought the blog updates to a standstill. With a reasonably strong sense that things are returning to normal, we resume in earnest.

At the beginning of July -- yes, it's been that long -- we made a trip to Traverse City, Michigan for the 2010 National Cherry Festival.

Due to the passage of time, I will keep my reviews brief.

Likes:

Traverse City, Michigan is Bloomington, Indiana without the college campus. Thus, I had no trouble falling in love with the place.
77 degrees in July for highs, no humidity - perfect.
Cherry Lemonade at the Cherry Republic - flipping awesome!
Mackinaw Brewing Company - good eats, good drinks.
Caroline tackling the biggest waterslide at the GWL without knowing how to swim. Probably doing things backwards, but the kid has got some chutzpah!
Joey-sized life jackets. Seeing half-pint in a swim vest was hilarious.
Henry as a water bug.
Mommy texting me through Facebook while sitting in the bed right next to me. Classic abuse of modern technology.

Dislikes:

GWL's food prices are ridiculous. PBR on the menu, but no PBR in the joint. Black mark for you, Great Wolf. No one puts a blue jewel in the corner, no one.
The kid (or adult) who shut down half the waterpark by pooping under the GWL waterfall play area. Apparently, when 1,000 gallons of water come splashing down every five minutes, it occasionally scares the crap out of people. The best part was the poor schlep who had to use the rubber gloves and the red hazmat bag to clean the poop from the water drain. Stay classy, Michigan.
LeBron James. Thankfully, the citizens of TC could care less about "The Decision." It wasn't on the TV when we went out for dinner. Hopefully, in a few years, either will Mr. James.
Armband barbed wire tattoos. Sorry folks, if you have them, I have to wonder about you.
The dude who plays the old wizard in the Magi Quest game at GWL. Pretty sure he has to report himself to his neighbors when he moves.
The Diabolical India Pale Ale from North Peak Brewery - pretty sure it caused a permanent facial tick (see below).

The rest in pictures...

The Holman kids love Great Wolf Lodge.

The girls on the carny carousel

Henry and Caroline at the Sleeping Bear Dunes

Josie and Caroline put their toes into Lake Michigan - lake temperature, 65 chilly degrees.

$75 bucks worth of Magis

Dad and the kids rediscover hydro-engineering at the Children's Musuem

The tired parents.

Our wolfpack.

Thinking of Mom

2010-07-17T23:31:00.000-04:00

We miss you, Mom (Grandma).

We are praying for a speedy recovery.

(Mom and Dad (Grandma and Grandpa))

(Grandma at Joey's 1st Birthday)

Baseballs, Soccer Balls and Birthday Candles

2010-07-06T22:08:00.000-04:00

Henry's baseball team -- the Owlz -- finished their baseball season undefeated (again). Since there's no score kept in the games, I have every right to make that claim. I witnessed 13 ties. In three years, my son's baseball team has not won or lost a single game.

Leave it to the local baseball league to teach the kids the valuable lesson of mediocrity. Charlie Brown would be proud. No winners and no losers. Just confused children.

Unfortunately, once again, the kids received a lame trophy for the accomplishment. Last year, it was a mini baseball bat used primarily in our house as a nightstick. We had to hide those from the kids for fear Caroline was going to go Tonya Harding on Henry.

This year, it was a ceramic wall plate that looked like it was forged by Hans Nowak on a mid-afternoon bender.

Cheap crap.

I want some fake gold on a RC Cola can.

Now that's a trophy.

Anyway, here's the squad:

(Henry is the first kid kneeling in the front row from the left. Dig the kid giving himself bunny ears. Who does that?)

(Oh, and don't be fooled into thinking we played on that diamond. We played on the equivalent of three dirt-covered parking lots this year.)

The same day as the end of baseball season brought our third rendition of Hoosierpalooza -- our family's tribute to all things Indiana. We deep-fried pork tenderloins, swilled copious amounts of PBR, listened to Henry Lee Summer and John Mellencamp music and made the neighbors regret their neighborhood selection.

Unfortunately, due to the fact that I drank too much, I was unable to take photos during the event. Instead, all I have is the Hoffman-Holman-Funkhouser kid photos which closed out the day after Hoosierpalooza.

Maybe, next year.

(As a further tribute to Indiana, it was 92 degrees when this picture was taken. Look at all those happy faces!)

Moving on from Hoosierpalooza was Henry's birthday -- which we will cover later -- and Caroline's soccer debut.

Caroline is an athlete waiting to blossom. She's got her mother's mad skills, but a Hoffman-esque shyness that is sweet and stubborn at the same time. This is the first year that she's opened up to the idea of playing sports without her wingman (Henry) being involved. Henry is playing soccer but on a different field from Caroline.

Caroline has taken to this separation extremely well.

(Caroline [black shorts at right] getting ready to dribble the soccer ball.)

(Caroline on a breakaway!)

So far, soccer has been a success for the Big C.

Now, back to Henry's birthday.

Henry and his buds did an afternoon trip to Fun N' Stuff to celebrate his 7th birthday and he did a family gathering with everyone prior to the Palooza.

(They're all friendly before the Laser Tag breaks out.)

For whatever reason, for each of the past seven birthdays, one of our children invariably cries during the singing of "Happy Birthday". This year was no different. Josie has acquired the gene. Here's proof:

It's been a tiring couple of weeks at the Holman house. I caught Josie sleeping in Henry's room and took the picture below.

Sleep has never looked so peaceful.

We could use a truckload of these moments.

Bloomington Through the Minimalist Lense

2010-06-28T22:16:00.000-04:00

It takes at least two full weeks before it is safe to legally blog about the Holman family's annual kidless trek to Bloomington.

This year is no different.

The amnesty period is needed so we can ~~return~~ replace the mattresses we launched from the hotel room, the couches set ablaze and the pure devastation that follows our assemblage in B-Town. Not since a Henry Lee Summer concert at the Clay County Fairgrounds in 1989 has a town seen such repeat destruction like that which occurs in Bloomington each and every June.

Unfortunately for the viewing patrons of Poogieville, pictures from me during these visits are a difficult task.

There are multiple reasons for this:

1. A near constant state of alcohol-induced euphoria.

2. The blazing HOT Indiana sun.

3. Lack of sleep.

4. A stomach consisting of eight parts PBR, one part breaded pork tenderloin and one part Trojan Horse/Pizza Express medley.

Picture-taking becomes a chore.

Therefore, this year I distilled the weekend plus a day into five simple pictures.

(Yes, this is Seymour, Indiana - Seymour is not Bloomington, but that's where this randomness begins)

(This is the fireplace in the South Lounge of the IMU. It was 93 degrees outside in Bloomington on Friday and -- true to tradition -- the South Lounge fireplace was still on.)

(This is Bill. I have collected numerous Bloomington vignettes of him. Last year, he drank Irish Lion gravy through a straw. This year, no gravy. Just a ridiculous pool shot at the Video Saloon [not pictured] and drunken revelry concerning the coolness of Miller Lite's latest beer gimmick -- the metallic pint can.)

(On Sunday, Erica and I drove back to Terre Haute to pick up the kids. This is what Terre Haute looks like when you are stuck at a train that is no longer moving. It happens quite a bit in TH.)

(This is Joey and Mommy at Noodles and Company on the way home from the weekend.)

Driving six hours on spicy Thai food and the beer s@#$ is a great way to end a long weekend in Bloomington!

Next year, we'll do it all over again.

All for the glory of old IU!

48 Hours of Travel -- Southern Indiana Style

2010-06-18T00:46:00.001-04:00

Fishers, Sheridan, Lebanon, Zionsville, Seymour.

Sleep.

Seymour, Bloomington, Terre Haute, Bloomington.

Sleep.

No pictures.

306 miles and a screwy trip around the state. Trip from Fishers, IN to Bloomington, IN

However, I can tell you that I did not find Mellencamp's "Tasty Freeze" nor the "house in escrow." And if you can name the two Mellencamp songs those quoted lines come from, you are a big loser -- like me.

Saw the wife (too briefly) and got to hang out with the kids tonight. Wifee was hanging out with girlfriends in Plainfield, Indiana. Apparently, they needed a designated driver. The way I was moving around this God-forsaken state, they could have just used me.

Without her, the kids and I completed an orgy of Terre Haute food establishments with Nana.

BOGO Kroger nacho cheese and chips.

Check.

A bucket of spaghetti and a loaf of garlic bread from Spaghetti House.

Check.

Six hard shell tacos from Taco Casita. Three hot, three mild.

Check.

We destroyed it.

What did Henry eat? Why, a bologna and cheese sandwich, of course.

He's a weirdo.

Marian Anderson or Marion and Anderson: The Long Strange Trip Continues

2010-06-15T22:29:00.001-04:00

This is Marian Anderson. She was one of the greatest singers in American history.

She was not in Marion or Anderson today. However, I visited both Marion and Anderson (cities in Indiana) today on my continuing working tour of the state.

Brief thoughts on both fine cities?

Anderson. Well, it was hot and sort of depressing.

Spin me around ten times and move me into another small town in the Midwest this month and I'm pretty sure I'd say the same thing about that town.

Any town that is more than 5 miles from the interstate exit is a goner in this economy. Anderson is a perfect example.

Other than proximity to Indianapolis, if the Colts think they are getting a huge advantage moving their training camp from Terre Haute to Anderson, they are morons. SSDD.

Marion. The home of Lyndon Jones and Jay Edwards? Well, it was hot and sort of depressing.

I did pass the birthplace of James Dean and the guy who created the Garfield comic strip on the way to Marion.

I would have stopped to take photos, but I was trying to race back to my hotel so I could avoid the nightly ritual of Indiana tornadoes.

I am not joking. Each of the past two nights has been a dodge-fest of golf-ball sized hail, torrential rains, 60 mph winds, bluish-green skies and tornadoes.

God is apparently pissed at us.

Don't believe me?

Well, a lightning bolt destroyed the "Touchdown Jesus" or "Butter Jesus" monstrosity near Middletown, Ohio last night. For those of you who have driven down I-75 north of Cincinnati, Ohio and saw this thing:

You know the end is near. It burned to the ground in two brilliant minutes of flame and irony.

Yesterday, I enjoyed a window seat to a tornado-producing thunderstorm in Zionsville, Indiana. Tornado sirens and all.

I discovered that the best way to enjoy a tornado is over a six pack of Modelos with your sister.

Seriously. When it comes for you, what would you rather be doing?

Today was no different. I had to wait for more tornado-producing thunderstorms to clear the Indy area before heading to the only sign of life in southeastern Hamilton County...

Yes, that's the sun emerging from the heavens as I dodged lightning strikes to reach the front door of Five Guys in Fishers, IN.

Eleven dollars for a bacon cheeseburger, fries and a Mr. Pibb never tasted so damn good!

I'm off to Lebanon tomorrow.

No, not that Lebanon.

This Lebanon. The Friendly City.

The above is an actual picture from the Lebanon, Indiana website. Apparently, there's a new definition of "friendly" in the Friendly City.

Yikes.

I am sure not to F with these bad asses. I mean, they have totally got that soccer game under control. I know tensions are high with the World Cup and all but is SWAT training really necessary at a soccer field in Indiana?

I can't wait for tomorrow to come. I'm already fearful of what will happen next.

A plague of locusts? Pestilience? A giant meteor?

Rob Does Richmond

2010-06-15T00:19:00.000-04:00

If you say that title too fast, you might giggle like a schoolkid. I stole the line from my brother-in-law who snorted with laughter when I told him where I was today. For a highly intelligent dude, no one does "low-brow" better than my brother-in-law.

Nobody.

As the title suggests, I'm back in Indiana this week. My first stop was Richmond, Indiana. My appointment was across the street from a familiar name.

Check it out:

(I even managed to shoot the Accord in this one!)

This one brought back a ton of good memories.

As it should...

A Record-Setting Night in Akron, Ohio!

2010-06-13T01:45:00.002-04:00

And when someone asks you where you were the night the Akron Aeros broke their franchise record for consecutive wins (twelve), only 2,867 of us will be able to say we were there.

The Big Guy (Grandpa) and I were in attendance courtesy of "90".

(Thanks, Jim!)

Sorry, Bill. I'm sure the in-flight movie on the bumpy flight to Vegas was worth it. Your man-crush for Lonnie Chisenhall is still in tact, though. He went 3 for 5 and has both BG and me convinced of his place at 3B in 2011 or 2012 for the Tribe.

We also managed to save the boxscore and the recap for souvenir purposes.

We are now 2-0 in games managed by Jim. The Aeros have never lost for me (5-0).

I'm sure the streak ends tomorrow.

UPDATE: It did. The Aeros got shutout 3-0 on Sunday.

Henry Hits the Links

2010-06-05T17:56:00.000-04:00

We were up at 6:15a and on the course by 7:15a this morning. Henry didn't complain once.

Two pop tarts, a bottle of water and a pitching wedge and he was in the game. It was another good round for the Hankster.

(Henry taking a swing)

(Henry reloading another swing)

(Henry helping Uncle Bob find a water ball)

We played 18 holes at Coppertop at Cherokee Hills in Brunswick, Ohio. It was another good course for our limited games.

Henry is sitting here while I blog and wanted me to tell everyone that he got his first set of golf clubs and dramatically improved his game on the back nine today. Henry wanted me to add that he "clobbered the balls" and he hit "two balls straight up in the air".

In Henry's version of golf, that is the measure of success.

I would rather play his game.

A "Goodtime" Wedding on Lake Erie

2010-06-04T23:36:00.000-04:00

Erica and I made it to the wedding of John Mazi on Friday night. John and his new bride Lisa had their wedding and reception on the Goodtime III which then included a trip up (and down) the Cuyahoga River -- which made us both sad -- and then out into Lake Erie -- which made us both happy.

The Cuyahoga River portion of the trip included three separate bare-assed "moonings" by some of Cleveland's finest dirtbag ne'er-do-wells. Only in Cleveland can you take a pleasure cruise on a boat and end up seeing the business-end of a blue-collar kid, let alone three separate incidents on the same river.

Anyway, for those who don't know, my friend John was a law clerk that I hired in 2004 and who became an associate attorney for our law firm.

I subsequently fired John in 2005.

Yes, you heard me correctly.

I fired the poor guy. It wasn't my call, but I did it.

The best part about John is that he still talks to me and we still get together despite the fact that he should hate everything I stand for. John is the epitome of a good guy.

Me? Not so much. I'm a d-bag, but you already knew that.

John's wedding was the first time I made it out on either Lake Erie "cruise" ship.

(My two loves: my pregnant wife, Erica, and the only city I would ever call home -- Cleveland, Ohio)

(Here she is again -- I happen to think she's the most beautiful woman in the world)

It was a nice evening. The event was quick (3 hours from dock to dock). Everyone enjoyed themselves. There was nudity. I drank my share of Bud Lights. I got to hear the calypso version of "Under the Rainbow" twenty times. There was a football floating in the Cuyahoga River (it's Cleveland!).

Life is good.

Check that, life is great.

Memorial Day

2010-06-04T23:04:00.000-04:00

We took in the annual Hudson Memorial Day parade last weekend and enjoyed a Holman Ribfest at Billy Brew's.

Here's the event in pictures:

(Bill and his in-laws on the parade route)

(A picture of the Girl Scout Troop with Judy [right in red], Maddy and Maura [center on scooters])

(Josie taking down a hot dog)

(Mason discovering a Henry staple -- watermelon)

(Maura Holman)

(Henry eating his two -- and only -- food groups: watermelon and hotdogs)

(Avery explaining where the food goes)

(Caroline the Protege with Maddy the Mentor)

And last but not least, Erica and the kids on the Hudson Preschool Parents "float". Caroline gave Hudson, Ohio a rather cool greeting.

What else is new?

Erica & Kids on HPP Memorial Day Float from Rob Holman on Vimeo.

Adieu

2010-05-28T17:18:00.002-04:00

Petey Holman (April 20, 1995 - May 28, 2010)

Fifteen years ago, Erica, her mother and I traveled over ten hours to Omaha, Nebraska to pick up a peculiar-looking Boston Terrier that we found through Erica's aunt. We paid $150 for the dog.

The breeder was so desperate to move Pete that she threw in Pete's mother, Spiffy Nifty as a bonus. Erica's mom kept Spiffy. My mother-in-law had a ball with Spiffy before she died a few years ago.

Erica and I kept Pete. For all the laughs and companionship he gave us, it was a steal of a deal.

Sadly, Petey passed away this afternoon at the ripe old age of 15. He had been suffering for the past month or so with seizures, brain tumors, etc. and was not doing so well. In truth, he's been a shell of his former self since 2007. Doesn't matter whether it is a dog, a human or a salamander, it's tough to watch.

This morning, Pete was really laboring. We took him to the vet and were told he had developed a pulmonary edema. We received some medicine and were told to give it a week. He apparently had enough. Four hours later, with all of us gathered around to say our goodbyes, Pete bid us a final adieu.

Pete took the single-malt scotch, the pig ears, the bigger dogs he humped, the stolen frisbees, the treats, the trips to Atlanta, the dogs he helped raise, the kids he cleaned up after, the late night cheeseburgers he ate, the beer he drank from Bill's mouth, the chocolate chip cookies he stole from Patrick, the rickety guillotine window, the Bowling Green, KY Wendy's, the Morgan-Monroe SF hikes, the midday naps, the 1086 Curry Drive laps, the close encounters with skunks and cows, and being my only true friend in law school with him.

We are heartbroken.