Author: Josh

White hot pain. I was reading Harry Potter & the Chamber of Secrets last night and when Harry gets jabbed in the arm by the fang of the basilisk, Rowling used the term white hot pain. That’s what getting a tattoo removed by a laser feels like. I’ve never tried this, but imagine taking a magnifying glass in the Texas summer and focusing the point of the most intense, white heat at your skin for a brief moment, just long enough to where the scorching pain registers. Then do that a thousand times in a fairly isolated spot on your body. And there ya go… laser tattoo removal pain equivalent.

I had my second laser tattoo remove treatment with Cara at Austin Laser Clinic yesterday. Here’s a video of my first treatment back in early November. This treatment was not much unlike the last treatment, quick and painful. Thankfully Cara makes for good company during the process.

What’s interesting about the process is that it’s ongoing — not specifically the treatments that are spaced apart — but how your body reacts and handles the tattoo weeks and months after treatment. Since I’ve had this particular tattoo for 20 years, I’ve grown to where I don’t even really take notice of it anymore. Every week or so I’ll take a gander at it and realize that another line or specific section of the tattoo has really faded, or is almost gone. The body’s lymphatic system is slowly taking the broken down pigment particulates and chromaphore away.

I used to be the chef of the family. I used to spend hours and hours in the kitchen, and this was after and on top of the hours I’d spend thinking about food and recipes. And then we had kids. Before children we’d eat dinner at 9 p.m. Now we eat dinner no later than 6 p.m. Eating at 6 p.m. does not allow for hours and hours to think about preparing meals. So, for the past 6 years, Elise has been the primary head that wears our kitchen’s chef hat. That changed recently because Elise became fed up with Maly’s and my groans. She threw her hands in the air and said, “if you don’t like my cooking, YOU can start cooking again.”

I laughed her frustration off until Maly and I were sitting at the table at 6 p.m. one evening and it looked like we weren’t going to have dinner that night. We scrounged that particular night, but I knew then that Elise was serious in that she was going to bow out and I’d have to figure out some meals for our imminent survival.

Thankfully the weather had starting getting cold, and one of Maly’s favorite meals is pho. I’d never made pho, so it just made sense to teach myself. You can go the quick and easy route and make broth from beef stock or bouillon, or you can go the more traditional route, and make a flavor-filled, hearty and traditional broth. I opted for the latter, so the next morning, I was at the grocery store, purchasing knuckle bones and rice noodles.

I took this recipe from Epicurious, and kind of followed it (the recipe itself is all over the place and kind of hard to follow), but quickly realized that this recipe is really, really simple and fast to prepare (albeit you should give yourself a couple hours to simmer the broth).

BROTH

• 5 pounds beef marrow or knuckle bones
• 2 pounds beef chuck, cut into 2 pieces
• 2 (3-inch) pieces ginger
• 2 yellow onions
• 1/4 cup fish sauce
• 3 tablespoons sugar
• 10 whole star anise
• 6 whole cloves
• 1 tablespoon sea salt

GARNISHES

• 3 scallions, cut into thin rings
• Cilantro
• 1 pound bean sprouts
• 10 sprigs basil
• 6 Thai bird chilies or 1 serrano chili, cut into thin rings
• 1 lime, cut into 6 thin wedges

1. In a large stockpot, bring 6 quarts water to a boil. Place the bones and beef chuck in a second pot and add water to cover. Bring to a boil and boil vigorously for 5 minutes. Using tongs, carefully transfer the bones and beef to the first pot of boiling water. Discard the water in which the meat cooked. (This cleans the bones and meat and reduces the impurities that can cloud the broth.) When the water returns to a boil, reduce the heat to a simmer. Skim the surface often to remove any foam and fat. Add the ginger and onions, fish sauce and sugar. Simmer until the beef chuck is tender, about 40 minutes.

2. When the broth has been simmering for about 1 1/2 hours total, wrap the star anise and cloves in a spice bag (I used Elise’s tea egg) and add to the broth. Let infuse until the broth is fragrant. The anise and cloves will just give it that smell. Remove and discard both the spice bag and onions. Add the salt and continue to simmer, skimming as necessary, until you’re ready to assemble the dish. The broth needs to cook for at least 2 hours. (The broth will taste salty but will be balanced once the noodles and accompaniments are added.) Leave the remaining chuck and bones to simmer in the pot while you assemble the bowls.

3. To serve, place the cooked noodles in preheated bowls. (If the noodles are not hot, reheat them in a microwave or dip them briefly in boiling water to prevent them from cooling down the soup.) Place a few slices of the beef chuck and the raw sirloin on the noodles. Bring the broth to a rolling boil; ladle about 2 to 3 cups into each bowl. The broth will cook the raw beef instantly. Garnish with yellow onions, scallions and cilantro. Serve immediately, garnish the bowls with bean sprouts, herbs, chilies, lime juice.

Where we live in south Austin leaves something to be desired in terms of Asian markets. Thankfully there’s a little hole in the wall restaurant/market called Filipino Asian Mart at 1st and Slaughter where I was able to buy big bags of rice sticks (those famous noodles perfect for pho) for $2 per bag.

And Maly and Elise loved the pho we had for dinner that night. Maly even said, “this is the second best meal I’ve ever had!” I didn’t bother to ask her what her first was.

“Ok kids, look to the right and make weird faces. Mom & Dad, try to look like you’ve had some sleep in the past eight months. Say, ‘Merry Christmas!'”

Dear Mara,

You turned eight months old today. And today is your first Christmas. This is your mom and my first Christmas with “children,” and it’s made it that much more of a special holiday for us. We’re so blessed and thankful that you were born, and you’ve reminded your mom, sister and me how precious life is and how farts at inappropriate moments are awesome.

You’ve learned and accomplished a lot of things this month. Most notably and most recently is your penchant for clapping. You’ll crawl around the house with no real motive, stop, sit up and clap. You’ll then look at us and anxiously wait for us to join you in clapping. And then we clap and cheer and everyone smiles, laughs and says, “Yaaayyy!” And then we do 400 more times in a 10 minute time span.

It’s this month that your personality has become such that I’ve decide you take after your mom. You’re perpetually happy, you smile at people and you’re bubbly and outgoing. You really only get upset when you’ve been stewing in your own deuce for too long, you’re really hungry, or your mom drops you on your head. Other than that, you have such a cute and infectious smile that melts hearts.

And speaking of smiles, this month you cut your first tooth. Actually, you cut your first three teeth. Given our limited experience, we knew that one of your bottom front teeth was coming in. We could see it breeching your gum line, and then one day, there it was — it made it’s way through and we could feel your new tooth with our fingers. And just the other night while we were poking around in your mouth we found a fang. And not but a few seconds later we noticed your other fang. You look like a little copper-top vampire, but you’re still so stinkin’ cute.

You growl. When you crawl around, you growl. When you’re trying to pick something up, you growl. When you’d rather be doing anything other than having your diaper changed, you growl. Right before you cry after you’ve fallen, you growl. When you’re trying to figure something out in your head, you growl. I take it as a sign that you’ve identified challenges and frustrations in life, and you’re verbalizing it.

You also started cruising this month. You pull yourself onto anything and have started walking while you support yourself on anything that’s Mara-level. We weren’t really expecting this mode of transportation so soon, but we’ll take it. And while you were quick to teach yourself how to pull yourself up onto your feet, it’s been amusing to watch you try to figure out how to get back down to the ground. You’ve endured your share of head bonks, face plants and ground-level barrel rolls, which, of course makes for lots of growls and tears, but you’ve learned fast and you’re persistent as all get out. It’s always so much fun and so cute to witness you teach yourself how to do new things, like crawl or cruise. In that same breath, it’s bittersweet to witness you grow up so quickly.

While we’ve provided you with all sorts of new toys and a wealth of hand-me-downs from your sister, your absolute favorite toy is a stupid charger cord for my Macbook. We have drawers and closets full of toys that are perfect for a baby, and yet nothing gives you more hours of enjoyment than your charger. I learned the hard way that baby saliva renders an expensive laptop charger useless. You’ve taken the magnetic Mag Safe end of the charger cord to your tongue and gums and have since ruined my computer’s cord. So the charger is now yours. And you carry it around with you all throughout the house. You lovingly hold the MagSafe end of the cord and drag around the power brick end of the cable like you’re taking it for a walk. I’ll always stop and ask, “you taking your charger for a walk?!” And invariably you’ll look up at me and smile and clap. It’s not the toy I’d expect you to take such a liking to, but it’s cute and you love your charger. By the way, you owe me $79.

You’re growing so fast and your personality continues to grow and shine through at each passing day. Thank you for sharing your ear-to-ear smiles, and reminding us of how good it is to smile and find the happiness is most everything.

Thank you for being you.

I love you, Mars.

Love,

Daddy

Dear Mara,

You turned 7-months-old today. And I’ll just get this out of the way right now: you are such a stinking cute baby. You have such a positive outlook on everything. There’s not a whole lot in your daily life that doesn’t make you smile. And your smile is so damn infectious. You smile when you wake up. You smile when anyone talks to you. You smile when you’re eating. You smile when you’re talking. You have this enormous and precious toothless grin that is my constant reminder that there’s not much about which to be unhappy.

This month has all been about balance and mobility. You can safely and comfortably sit up on your own now. We no longer live in fear that you’re going to topple over backwards and bash your head on the floor. We’ve tested this by propping you up on the slate tiles in the kitchen and kicking empty beer cans at your head.

This month you also started really crawling. Last month you were kind of arm crawling, but now you’re able to pull your knees up under yourself, put one hand in front of the other and actually propel yourself forward. You don’t have much in terms of stamina, but you can quickly and easily get yourself across a room these days.

Before I forget — What’s up with you wanting to eat my laptop’s power cord? We have four drawers in the living room that are dedicated to nothing but cute, bright, loud and fun toys just for you, but you insist on crawling over and gnawing on my computer’s cord. I even pulled out a clean, unused power cord for you to have all to yourself, and you still insist on chewing on my plugged-in power cord.

While you’re a very even-keeled and happy baby, you get the most upset when you’re hungry. Whenever you start crying, I’m challenged to find the immediate source of your discomfort. Invariably it’s usually because you’re just hungry. You really like to be held, and when your mom or I set you down in your highchair, you’re discomfort will escalate, but when we start shoveling mashed fruit into your mouth, you turn back into a little angel.

And speaking of eating. Whenever you’re at your spot at the table and we’re feeding you, you like to do this wrist twist thing with both of your hands. It’s like you’re in a pageant, waving to all of your adoring fans. I think it’s because you just don’t know what to do with your hands while we’re feeding you. Honestly, I’d probably do the same thing.

It’s so much fun to watch you grow and learn and take in all of your surroundings and live vicariously through you as you encounter new experiences. Just do me a favor and slow down a little bit. Your old man ain’t getting any younger.

I love you, Sugar.

Love,

Daddy

Today I started on a long journey of having tattoos removed by a laser. For years I’ve thought about having them removed, and for some reason, this past week I just knew that it was time to start the process.

I’ve had a lot of people ask why I want to remove them and I don’t have one definitive answer. I’m different than I was 20 years ago. The tattoos are a mark of the person that I was then. I’m who I am now, and part of who that person is today doesn’t have the tattoos that I’m having removed.

The process is slow and painful. The actual treatment of the tattoo isn’t very long, as indicated in the video below. It’s probably going to take four sessions at 10 weeks apart to have the sun removed.

And laser tattoo removal isn’t pain free. I ain’t gonna lie — it hurts. My new friend and laser technician, Cara, said it would feel like hot grease splatters. I’ve also heard it feels like a rubber band snapping against the skin. I’d say it felt like a long, electrified needle being pounded into your skin with a motorized ball ping hammer at a rate of 5 jabs per second. And not like tattoo needle jabs – this was like direct stabs with a long needle followed by an immediate micro-explosion in the dermis. I thought it might feel a lot like getting the tattoo applied. I think having the tattoos removed is 3-times as uncomfortable and painful.

I’m a glutton for punishment though. It’s the right thing for me to do at this phase of my life, and I’ll endure the pain.

A mark of a 4 indicates Mastery. A mark of a 3 indicates Proficient. Since Maly has started the First Grade, she has had spelling tests on Fridays. Her teacher sends home a list 16 words on Monday and we are given the next 4 days to review said words and practice for Friday’s spelling test.

Every week Maly has come home with a 4+ grade on her spelling tests. Until last week. She came home with a mark of a 3. I was disappointed. These were words that we had practiced spelling many times throughout the week. She missed two words: trip and trap. During her test, she heard the “tr” sound as a “ch” sound, and thusly spelled “chrip” and “chrap.”

I told Maly that we were going to have to work extra hard on her spelling words this week. And we did. Any words that she had difficulty with, we focused on those words while not ignoring the others. I told her that it is very important that she tries hard, concentrates and performs well on tests. I also told her that I wanted her to earn a 4 on her spelling tests. I confirmed that she also wanted to earn 4’s on her spelling tests as well. And then I allowed her to get out of the ice bath and told her she could spit out the ball of aluminum foil.

When she stepped off the bus this afternoon, I greeted her and we hugged and kissed as usual. Elise, Maly, Mara and I all walked toward the house. Casually I asked, “Maly, how’d you do on your spelling test today?” She turned around, ran toward me and yelled, “I got a 4!!!!”

I smiled, ran my fingers through the hair on top of her head and praised, “I’m very proud of you, Sug!” Elise and I both reminded her of the value and importance in hard work, dedication and persistence. Maly said she understood, and was proud of herself for the high mark.

And after she’d received her graded test, she made it a point to write me a note. I still hope and pray, every day, that we’re doing this parenting thing right.

Dear Mara,

You turned six-months-old today. It’s hard to believe that half a year has gone by when it feels like we brought you home from the hospital just last week. I think the time has flown by so quickly because you’ve been such a happy and easy baby.

One of the most memorable moments of this past month is when your mom dropped your on your head a few nights ago. People laugh and joke about this kind of thing, but apparently it happens and your mom actually dropped you on your head. You see, you and your mom were walking across the street to feed the neighbors’ dog and your mom lost her footing while taking the curb and you both hit the pavement. Your mom absorbed most of the blow with her knee and elbow, but she said she saw your head hit the ground. I think this might be a bit of an exaggeration.

Your mom came running back into the house crying with you, crying as well, in her arms. She yelled my name and told me that you both had taken a tumble and that you’d hit your head. In a panic, I jumped up from the couch and met you and your mom somewhere near the kitchen where I immediately took you and dialed Child Protective Services and the Maury Povich show. I slowly walked you to the lamp in the living room and told you that it was going to be okay while I looked at and felt every square inch of your head.

I don’t think you hit your head. Your head might have made gentle contact with the street, but your mom took the hit for you. Your mom will always take the hit for you.

We were both scared. We’re your parents. It’s our job to be scared for you, and to do any and everything to protect you.

This month you’ve made strides in your mobility and balance. You’re not quite crawling yet, but you can spin and inch yourself around the living room rug on your belly. You’re also sitting up on your own pretty well. You’re still a bit wobbly, and I always like to put a pillow or something equally fluffy behind you when we prop you up in case you take a backwards spill. But you’ll just sit there and smile at us, and then slap the carpet or clap your hands together.

You’ve also started eating more solid foods this month. So far you’ve had various cereals, bananas, avocados and prunes. Your mom is still mad at me for giving you your first non-cereal solid food in her absence. She was on a photo shoot one day and it was just you and me. You were hungry, your milk supply was away, and we had bananas. I took one of said bananas, smushed it up with a fork and fed it to you. You loved it and we just had a grand old time, you and me, there in the kitchen eating a banana and singing the happy songs of the banana people.

You’ve become much more vocal this month. Your brain is trying to get your mouth to put words together. You’ve said, “dada dada” a few times, but it hasn’t necessarily been directed toward me. You’ve also said, “mama,” and that was once directed toward the cat, and another time toward a laptop’s power cord. And then there are times when you’re just in your own world, happy as a clam and you indulge in little squeals. You have such an adorable and girly voice.

You’ve been nothing short of amazing and a source of smiles for us all. I take a lesson from you daily and realize that there’s not a lot in this big world that’s not worthy of a smile or a giggle.

Keep on smiling, Sugar.

I love you,

Daddy

Last night I had the worst nightmare I think I’ve ever had. For whatever reasons, Elise, Maly, possibly Mara (I can’t remember) and I were walking westbound on FM 1094. Elise and I were walking in the right lane, with traffic. Maly was walking in the left lane, against traffic. Although, there was no traffic. I yelled across the highway to Maly to get on the same side of the road as us. I don’t know where we were going or why we were walking on a farm market road.

Maly was pushing something. It was a nondescript toy of some such — maybe a wagon, a stroller or a cart or buggy. Out of nowhere and in the bat of any eye, an 18-wheeler came barreling down the highway at breakneck speed. One second it was calm and quiet and the only sound was me, yelling to my daughter to come get on the right side of the road with me. And then there was the sound of an 18-wheeler breaking the local sound barrier.

And just like that, Maly was gone. There was no sound beyond the roaring engine, the wind and the energy transferring from 18 wheels to the asphalt. There was no impact.

She was completely gone. It’s like she’d never existed. She was swept away in that same bat of an eye. No closure. No proof that an accident had happened. She just ceased to exist.

It took me a moment or two in my dream for my brain to process what I’d just witnessed. And at that point, I was alone. Elise was still there in the periphery, but she wasn’t present in the surreal fatality I’d just endured.

I was absolutely alone. I started screaming, “OH GOD! OH GOD! OH GOD!” over and over and over again.

I was completely alone. It was just me and absolutely nothing.

I forced myself to wake up. My head was drenched in sweat. It was somewhere around 3 a.m. I think I closed my eyes again because I was afraid to face the notion that my dream might’ve been real and I’d remember that my daughter didn’t exist in the physical world.

Reality quickly came over me, and my conscious comforted me in acknowledging that everything was, in fact, okay. Maly was okay and sleeping silently in her bedroom.

I got up and stood at the foot of Elise’s and my bed. I let my mind tell me again that everything was okay.

I went back to bed. I didn’t go check on Maly. I don’t know why I didn’t go check on Maly. I think my heart knew and told me that everything was okay, and won over my conscious that wanted me to worry.

Later this afternoon, I decided to see if it meant anything to have a dream about a child dying. Most of what I found indicates that it could be related to a serious quarrel or difference with the spouse or partner, because the child is a reflection of the both. Presently, that didn’t hold true for me. Another suggested that the dream might be indicative of one’s inner child dying. This might be true of me now.

I think it’s a calling to save him. My inner child.

I called Elise’s cell phone this evening. Before answering, Elise gave the phone to Maly. I can’t remember the last time I spoke to Maly on the phone. I’d venture to guess a year’s gone by already. I had an actual, coherent conversation with her tonight on the phone. She sounds so much older now. She’s growing up.

Anyway, last night’s dream was the absolute worst. Literally a parent’s worst nightmare. It’s a reminder to continuously strengthen the bond with my child, and with my child within.

I’ve been a Mozy customer for roughly five years. I’d say I’m a happy customer, but I’ve [thankfully] never had to use their recovery service. But I’ve had peace of mind, knowing that all of our photos and documents are being backed up offsite by both a 3rd party service and a hard drive sitting in a safe deposit box at the bank.

I’ve known for a while that Mozy was increasing their rates by A LOT. Luckily I was grandfathered in because I’ve always paid 2-years in advance. My subscription service is up in early November. I went ahead and signed up for a trial of BackBlaze, which is a competing off-site, automated hard drive backup service. So far so good with BackBlaze.

Now, to put it into perspective, I was paying $209 every two years for unlimited storage and backups with Mozy. A hundred bucks a year is a good price to me for peace of mind. I like to know that all of our photos and documents are safe should the house catch on fire or a computer explodes. As of right now, we have 437 GB backed up at Mozy. If I wanted 500 GB of storage space at Mozy after the price increase, my biennial rate will go up to $1,049. I’m not that good with math, but that’s like a 5X increase. That’s just nuts.

Now I’m not one of those crazy customers. I thought I’d give Mozy a chance to retain my business. I was really hoping that they’d appreciate my business and want to retain me as a customer. I had this conversation with Kara this afternoon:

So, I’m taking my back-up business to BackBlaze, where I’ll only pay $3.96 per month on a 2-year plan.

Sorry, Mozy. It’s not me, it’s you.

I think this makes an ordinary cup of mocha coffee taste better than the expensive sort at that chain coffee spot.

• 3 cups boiling water
• 2 cups sugar
• 3/4 cup Dutch-processed cocoa powder
• 3/4 cup regular cocoa
• 1/2 cup imitation vanilla

1. Boil water
2. Measure Sugar and Cocoa into a two quart heat-resistant vessel.
3. Once the water is boiling, pour into vessel and whisk cocoa and sugar is dissolved.
4. Add the imitation vanilla; Mix thoroughly (this is optional. Elise and I prefer it without the vanilla).
5. Let mixture cool, and transfer into some pourable/squeezable container (we use an old honey squeeze bottle).
6. Use 2- 3 Tbsp Mocha Mix for a large cup of coffee
7. Makes approximately 32 oz.

Dear Mara,

You turned five-months-old today. I have to say, right off the bat, that one of the coolest things that happened to you this month was when your mom took you to the doctor’s office to get a couple inoculation. You won’t remember this, but when babies get shots, the shots are administered in the meaty part of their thighs. A couple weeks ago, you got two shots, one in each thigh. You didn’t even flinch on the first one. The nurse and your mom waiting for the screams. Nothing. The nurse gave you the second shot in your other thigh. From what I was told, you lifted your eyebrows ever-so-slightly, but that was it. No screams or whimpers. The nurse was so impressed that she immediately capped the syringe and went to the nurses station to brag about “the cute little red-headed baby who didn’t peep after two shots.”

It seems as if you’ve started to settle into something like a schedule. Unfortunately, your schedule doesn’t really mesh with your mom’s and mine. You like to be wide awake and yammering from around 9 – 11 p.m. This is your mom’s and my downtime where we might watch a little TV, hang out and talk, or catch up on personal business and correspondences. You like to take this opportunity to talk. We love to listen to you talk, but it’s bedtime, child. And when your mom puts you in your little bed in our room, you scream and cry to the point that we can’t stand hearing you scream and cry. So, one of us gets you and brings you back to the living room where you talk and talk and talk until eventually you wear yourself out and fall asleep on the rug. And while this schedule doesn’t mesh with ours, we know all too well that it’s only temporary, so we revel in it.

Just this past week, you’ve learned to get your knees up under yourself when your laying on your stomach and then you push yourself up. I’ll give you a couple more weeks and I think you’ll be crawling. After that, I think I’ll get you a little collar and a bell so we’ll know where you are at all times.

You’ve also started sitting up on your own. However, unless one of us is behind you, you’ll kick your feet to the point where you’ll fall backwards, so someone has to be there to catch you. You’re getting the hang of it though. If you’re sitting in my lap, you’ll just sit there quietly forever. You like to sit there and just observe things. I guess after you observe all of these things during the day, you like to tell us about them late at night when you should otherwise be sleeping.

Another one of my favorite characteristics of you are your eyebrows. When you see something that bewilders or amuses you, you do this ever-so-slight lift of your eyebrows that’s just hilarious. It’s hard to put into words how cute this little expression is. It’s like your little signature expression, and I hope it sticks.

You’re cuter, calmer and more laid back at each passing day. I love watching you grow and become more inquisitive of the world around you. I love watch you take everything in. I love your infectious little giggle. I love your huge, toothless grin. I wish I could bottle up your innocence, curiosity and glee and keep it for you forever. I wish I could also forever protect you from all of the scares, harm and hurt in this world. But what I know of you so far, I think you’ll do just fine.

I love you, Mars.

Love,

Daddy