Long days, short nights

Well, we're finally settling into a different sort of pattern here at the Evans home, and all in all ... it's not one that we're fond of. Nate gets up in the morning between 5:00-6:00, depending on the day of the week, and normally gets home at 6:00 or 6:30 in the evening. Of course, as soon as they see their daddy, Dylan and Cameron go bonkers and hound him until he's sapped of whatever energy he had left over from school and PT. (He loves the attention anyway!) Cameron, thank goodness, is asleep fairly early, and Dylan usually lets Mom and Dad have an hour or so to themselves before they fall asleep standing up. Lately, Cameron has been waking up with his Dad, and chatting away until Mom gets him out of his crib. Dylan will sometimes wake up even earlier, and try to climb in bed with Mom and Dad. This, of course, doesn't work - since Dylan likes to see how much abuse his dad's kidneys and back can take before they give out, or before he's kicked out into his own bed again.

Nate's classes are going well, his grades are good enough that mandatory study hall isn't an issue. Unfortunately, with afternoon PT scheduled three times per week, he still doesn't get to come home right after class. He's taken to a program called Shorestorming, which is a short 2.5+ mile run on the beach instead of formation PT (which he despises most of the time). He's trying to get in even better shape, including getting his 1.5 mile run time down to 9:30 (it's at 9:50 right now).

Bren is keeping her sanity (barely) at home with the boys. Dylan really knows how to push buttons, and does everything he can possibly do to aggravate his parents. He's getting big too, which means even louder screaming, even bigger diapers, and he can throw things harder all the time. Cameron is getting very talkative (he says "da da", "ma ma", "ba ba" and "oo!", his newest favorite noise), and he definitely lets us know when he's not happy. Cameron worships the ground Dylan walks on, and follows him everywhere, even though he gets hit in the head with random toys often, and Dylan likes to try and use him as a seat. Dad's not worried - he thinks Cameron will learn what he has to do to hold his own pretty quickly. Especially once he learns to walk, and has free hands to fight back. Good thing we have health insurance.

We had portraits of the kids done a few months ago, they turned out great! We'll get one of them up here on the blog, and hopefully we'll get some hard copy pictures out to family and friends.

Pedro and Frankensheep

Educational videos at their best!

This may not look like much of a good friend, but anyone who completed elementary school should know the California Condor is an essential, integral part of the Earth's life cycle, beginning with that of Central California.


I try my best to be engaged in worthy causes, even with my free time. My efforts led this week to a humble contribution to the survival of the magnificently hideous Condor.

Enter our neighbor, the friendly raccoon.

We find signs of our neighbors in our yard daily, whether it be something removed from the garbage can now kicking around the patio, or muddy paw prints on the windshield. We have unwillingly fed them into fat complacency. It was time for them to contribute something to a higher cause.

Driving to the store just yesterday evening, I saw the roaming gang of coons meandering about 20 yards or so in front of the car. Judging by the number of glowing orbs moving slowly across the street there were about 6 of them throwing a drunken garbage binge. On a Wednesday night, of all nights! (Don't they have work?) Toying with the pack I swerved playfully in their general direction, swerving away at the last moment. (My conscience wouldn't allow me to take the group out like that) I was rewarded with a loud bump -- the genius of the pack had fudged an escape attempt TOWARD the car. Big time.

Needless to say I was torn. Between my loathing for scavenging pests and that deep-down soft spot for something that could be construed as cute. By someone less a man than myself, anyway. *cough*

Long story short, I felt a tinge of regret. I told Brenda what happened, and she asked the typical motherly question, "Did you stop and see if it was alive?" Really, that thought hadn't even crossed my mind. Would you stop to see if the spider you stomped on was okay? Maybe take him to the vet?

The moral of the story is that that raccoon knew somehow that he would be a meal for a real in-the-flesh Condor. Brenda got to see the big bird carrying the carcass to the side of the road Thursday afternoon. No regrets, the circle of life will continue for a truly needy species. Now if I could only meet the rest of that coon gang again...