Caroline Rides a Two-Wheeler! Lives to Tell About It!

So, when your first three and one half years of life include the following:

1. At least six random spills down both sets of stairs (2006-present);

2. Biting through your lip on a Michigan vacation (2006) [Editor's Note: We mean all the way through the lip];

3. Going "Rocky Balboa" to your left eye on the corner of the dining room hutch (2009);

4. Doing a "header" into the air-hockey table at Uncle Bill's house and splitting your lower lip open (2009); and,

5. Falling "face-first" into the floor from the top of Henry's bunk bed and "Holmanizing" your baby teeth.

You earn a reputation for danger.

A well-deserved reputation for danger.

And how does one put on a new layer of danger and risk to their already risky repertoire?

Start by riding a two-wheel bike at age 3! That's how.

(Here's Caroline scoffing at danger)

Even Josie thinks Caroline's appetite for risk is ridiculous.

Okay, maybe not.

That little kid is too cute to form opinions, even if she looks like she's sporting the hairstyle from John Belushi's Samurai Delicatessen.

Josephine, is that you?

Seriously though, we're extremely proud of Super Caroline! She's the oldest 3 year old we know.

I just wish she'd let me have more moments like this one below.

(Another sniffle)

What are the Girls Doing Without Henry?

(Caroline channels Mary Poppins)

(Josephine goes runway model)

(Mommy and Joey on the Buckeye Trail)

Henry Rides the Bus

Here's the official footage of Henry's first bus trip to school.

(sniffle)

Henry's First Day of Kindergarten

Henry is "officially" in school. I dropped him off at kindergarten today. Funny kid. I walked him to his class, introduced him to his teacher -- to which he politely handed over an apple, and then he scanned his classroom for about five minutes.

A couple of typical Henry exclamations followed upon discovering his classroom:

1. "Cool. The bathrooms are connected to my classroom!"

My translation: Henry goes full-Monty any time he uses the restroom. He's bound to finally discover that dropping 'trou every time you pee is not socially acceptable. Nor is leaving a deuce in the launch tube. He's going to learn so much this year.

2. "Check out those computers!"

My translation: Henry will be downloading "Crazy Frog" on the school computers and may God help them.

3. "Have a good day at work, Dad."

My translation: You'd think it would have been me wishing him a good day at school, but that's the H-Man. He beat me to it. He gave me a hug and a kiss and then told me in his matter-of-fact way to have a good day at work. I couldn't breathe I was so amazed at my son.

Apparently, the first day of kindergarten is just another day in the life for the Hankster.

Maybe for him, but not for me.

Henry walking in to his new school and his first day of kindergarten.

On Being a Ghost in Bloomington

I'm away on business in Indiana this week. Mom and the kids are in Terre Haute visiting the Hoffman side of the family. Petey is vacationing at the summer cottage in Stow, Ohio.

Kind of stupid to announce that, eh?

Well, in that case, here are our instructions for any prospective burglars.

Our home is yours for the taking! Please make sure to turn off the lights when you leave and do not mess with the thermostat. I left half of a Papa John's medium green pepper and sausage in the fridge in case you or your partners-in-crime get hungry.

Oh, and I put a spring gun on one of the doors, but I'm not telling which one.

Anyway, I started this odyssey by driving five hours to Broad Ripple (sorry Kim, I had no time -- you'll see by reading on), then an overnight in Richmond, a meeting there and then off to Batesville, over to Bloomington, up to Greenwood tomorrow with a stop in Fishers in the PM and then over to Terre Haute to stay with the wife and children I haven't seen since Sunday. From there, we head to Cincinnati for a wedding on Saturday, then back north to home.

I'm not built for useless travel like this.

Which brings me to Bloomington, albeit briefly. It is slightly pathetic, but since I couldn't cajole Bundy to join me for dinner (he's busy) and the wife and kids had plans in Terre Haute, I decided to walk B-Town by myself.

What a friggin' loser! (sigh)

Oh well, here's my dinner.

That's a $2 PBR (the Blue Jewel) and a plate of hummus.

Can the IU grads guess where I ate solo this evening? I've been craving it since we missed it on the annual Bloomington trip in June.

After downing a few PBRs (alone -- which is both sad and funny), I walked the campus.

The IMU


The Main Library

A super-creepy water color of Winston Schindell -- the boss of our boss of our boss when we slaved away at the IMU.

Melancholy has nothing on you, Winston. Yikes.

Note to Bill: I made a trip to the Tree Suites on behalf of all things nature. The photo of the lavatory didn't come out too well and the janitor didn't think I was funny.

Showalter Fountain (under construction).

Trivia: I once swam in this fountain in 1994 dressed as a Vancouver Canuck.

Yes, I had been drinking.

Herman B. Wells - former President/Chancellor/Overlord of IU

I was going to take a photo of myself in Hermie's lap, but there were two problems: (1) it was infested with hornets; and (2) his smile.


The Elsinore Brewing Company (aka the IMU Student Activities Tower).


An inscription inside the breezeway of Memorial Hall.

Kirkwood Avenue and the Sample Gates at dusk -- right before I booked it past the ragamuffins who had taken up positions on both sides of Kirkwood.

Man, the recession has been tough for my hombres.

On behalf of all ghosts, I bid you farewell from B-Town. I'd like to go home now.

Who's Afraid of the Second Worst Beachfront in the U.S.?

Not the Holmans.

On Saturday, we joined "Holmans-South" (Bill's crew, minus Madelyn) on a trek to the Mentor Headlands Beach on Lake Erie.

We started off with a stop at Scooter's World Famous Dawg House in Mentor, Ohio for some much-hyped hot dogs.

You know, beach food.

If I hadn't eaten a cheeseburger rescued from a salt-mine the night before, I might have enjoyed the Super Dawg (a foot long dog with brown mustard, sauerkraut, chili and coney sauce).

It sounded good for some reason, like the idea of going to a Lake Erie beach. I still haven't figured out why.

Instead, I struggled to understand how a diet of beer, salty cheeseburgers, donuts and hotdogs fail to mix in proper proportions.

Erica, this is why you should never allow me to be upwind on the weekend.


For those who don't know, there are a couple of rules/things you should know about swimming in Lake Erie.

1. Cleveland was the epicenter of the American Industrial Revolution -- thus, it isn't cool to just swim in Lake Erie, it's only cool to survive swimming in Lake Erie.

2. The Lake Erie bottom is riddled with rocks ranging from stones to f-ing boulders -- if you try to run into the Lake, you can kiss your pedestrian lifestyle goodbye.

3. Do not swim past the buoys, even if you think the buoy is only a few feet from shore -- Vin Diesel and the Sea-Doo Morons will decapitate you.

4. Don't drink the water because, from where we live, two weeks ago you pooped in it.


Which leaves me with the main reason why it took me 34 years to swim in our much-maligned Great Lake.

I just got done reading our local newspaper.

The Plain Dealer reported on Wednesday that Lake Erie beaches are the second worst in the United States (three years running - yeah, Cleveland!).

Were we afraid? Nope.

Were we under-informed? Probably, but who cares.

As my sister-in-law put it, "you'd have to be at the beach every day to die from the things they're talking about."

If my sister-in-law hadn't been raised on a steady diet of Spam and Robert Redford, yet survived, I wouldn't have believed her. Instead, I took her words as the gospel.

In fact, I want to thank the columnists at the Plain Dealer for attempting to make our Lake Erie getaway easier by thinning the crowds with their spooky stories about E. Coli and raw sewage.

It didn't dissuade our crew from digging up to their necks in the beauty and splendor of Lake Erie.

Maura was game.

Below is a picture of Henry throwing one of the many rocks he found on the beach. Notice the unsuspecting swimmer in the direct path of his throw. Blame it on the mercury poisoning. I did.

For the record, we visited Headlands Beach in between two non-attainment days. I went crazy and actually looked it up. See for yourself.

What a relief?