Joey's Magnificent Eye for Still Photos

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

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

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

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

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.