(W.O.C.) War On Christmas: What would our Christmas be like without the Baby Jesus?

So I think maybe a little pondering is necessary. What would Christmas be like if it wasn't, in any way, focused on the sweet baby Jesus? It's already headed that way, but let's just cut Jebus out entirely of Christmas...how would we be different?

Charlie Brown Christmas Special.

WITH JESUS

Charlie Brown declares, "Isn't there anyone who knows what Christmas is all about?" Linus replies, "Sure Charlie Brown, I can tell you what Christmas is all about..." Then he walks center stage and requests..."Lights, please?" before he goes on his religious monologue about baby Jesus and the angels. And then Linus wraps his shitty blanket around the crappy tree and makes it look like it's an eighty dollar Douglas fur with fancy lights and they all sing.

WITHOUT JESUS

Charlie Brown declares, "Isn't there anyone who knows what Christmas is all about?" Linus replies, "Sure Charlie Brown, I can tell you what Christmas is all about..." Then he walks center stage and declares..."The lights! Puhleese!" And then his wraps his shitty blanket around the crappy tree and makes it look like it's an eighty dollar Douglas fur with fancy lights and they all sing.

In my opinion... the Jesusless Charlie Brown Christmas Special is a lot more honest. Because really, what little kid cares about some mythological superhero baby over cool Christmas lights and friends and family?

THE GRINCH WHO STOLE CHRISTMAS

It's the same... Grinch doesn't have Jesus in its message at all. Why? Because Grinch centers on the idea of the importance of merely being with one another over gifts. It also focuses on how a "good society" can get past tradition and cherish the important things in life. Jeepers...I wonder what's "traditional" about Christmas? Could it be the religious aspect? Thus Grinch is practically ANTI-RELIGIOUS muuuaahahaha.

Christmas trees

With Jesus

An angel on the top of the tree. And the knowledge that the "Christmas tree" was a practice stolen from one religion for another- a stolen tradition, rather.

Without Jesus

No angel. Not much difference. Nobody buys a tree because they love baby Jesus. They buy a tree because they love the smell and the enjoy the thrill of something to put presents under, hence it's a celebration of nature (harking back to its original religious intent) and generosity, both are values that happily exist without wonder baby.

Nativity

With Jesus

A barn with barn animals, angels, adults, and a baby.

Without Jesus

A barn with barn animals and adults. Doesn't quite say much. In fact, it kind of highlights how strange the image is when you go ahead and throw in the whole baby and angel part. Feels more like a joke: "A sheep, a virgin, and a baby all walked into a barn..."

A CHRISTMAS CAROL

Only one difference: Tiny Tim's one-liner: "God Bless us, everyone!" Even without Jesus that line can hang in there. In Truth, nobody in America celebrated Christmas until the publishing of Charles Dickens's pretty awesomely a-religious story- yet now people cling to Christmas like it's some 800 year old tradition. So if A Christmas Carol isn't about Jebus, what's it about? Oh, you know...the usual themes that exist when you're not trying to convert someone...kindness, togetherness, family, generosity.


In my opinion, and it seems the growing opinions of most humans, Christmas is and kind of never has been really about Jesus. Thus the war seems to continue.

THE TRUTH ABOUT FLYING REINDEER

Here is a great quick seasonal read for all.
*****

The Truth About Flying Reindeer
By
Horatio Duncan

Here’s a question that everyone gets asked at least once in their life, “Do you like Christmas?” Most people answer “Yes.” Some say “No.” But it can be said that for the most part most everyone enjoys Christmas – even if it’s just a little bit.
Christmastime is all about giving and taking, nogging and noshing, partying and celebrating. It’s all about snow, or no snow, lights or too many lights, Santa and his Reindeer and snowmen – or snowwomen, because we do, after all, live in a civilized age.
But this story doesn’t cover all of those things. This story only deals with one element of the barrage of Christmas joys:

Flying Reindeer.

If you think about it, and I hope you do, flying reindeer are the most important part of Christmas, are they not? Without Reindeer, Santa would have to cross the globe in one, single night either on foot, pogo stick, or bus. And we all know that nobody - not even Jolly old St. Nick – can make it to every house in the world in one night by foot, pogo, or bus – especially by bus!
No, Santa relies on flying reindeer. Not regular reindeer, but only those of the flying variety. Because anybody who knows anything about regular reindeer knows full well that if they were asked to pull a sleigh around the world (even by Santa) they would just give a grumpy snortle and walk back into the woods. No, flying reindeer are what makes Santa Claus so wonderful. They pull his sleigh full of presents and get him to where he needs to go. And it should be pointed out here that they do it without using a single drop of Gas, and are completely friendly to the environment.
But who gets all the credit? Santa, that’s who! Oh sure oh sure, there’s the story of Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer - but that was just a song and a story made up by a department store to get more people interested in buying things for the holidays. There’s no such thing as Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer! COME ON, THINK ABOUT IT! A RED NOSE? HOW PURPOSTEROUS!!! Everyone knows that flying reindeer noses are all black. And you can bet your candy canes that no flying reindeer that’s ever been or ever will be would walk around with the name RUDOLPH. Blech!
Here’s a question… Have you ever written a letter to a flying reindeer, asking him or her to please stay healthy so that Santa can make it on Christmas Eve? NOPE. Besides that foolishness with Rudolph the fake nosed reindeer, are there any songs about flying reindeer? NOPE! Even in the Rudolph song, all the other Reindeer were described as jerks that wouldn’t let Rudolph join in the fun. Everyone knows real flying reindeer are very generous.
So now you are going to find out about what flying reindeer are really all about. THE TRUTH. The truth about flying reindeer, and how they change the lives of at least one family every Christmas. (So take that, Rudolph!)
First, let’s look at the difference between a flying reindeer and a regular reindeer. There’s all sorts of differences! For one thing, flying reindeer have a species name all to their own. They are called Fliegen. And Fliegen can do so many more magical things than just fly up in the sky. Fliegen have the ability to communicate with people. Not just anybody, mind you, only those who have the born talent to speak Flie- which is an unknown animal language that can’t be taught. People can only be born already knowing how to speak and understand it. Santa Claus is one of those people.
If a shooting star crosses across the night sky at the moment a reindeer is born, they instantly become a Fliegen. As you can deduct, these two events don’t happen at the exact same moment very often. That is why Fliegen are so rare and special. You won’t be seeing a Fliegen walking down the street any time soon, that’s for sure.
Fliegen and regular reindeer don’t really get along. When a Fliegen is born from a regular reindeer, other Fliegen adopt it and raise it as their own. This may seem sad, but it is better for the baby Fliegen. There is too much jealously among regular reindeer.
A Fliegen’s diet consists of snowbarb- a special wintertime green that grows through the snow, sugarbeets and barley cane. It has recently been discovered that they also are very partial to cheese and, of course, would never turn down an offer of a friendly lick from a candy cane.
When Fliegen are young their coats are pure white. As they grow into adulthood, they shed their white fur to reveal a rich, chocolate coat underneath. The adult males develop antlers as strong as steel and adult females grow a heart-shaped fur pattern on their wide breasts. As mentioned before, every Fliegen’s nose is as black as night, and curiously enough, they all have purple tongues as well.
Fliegen are very generous. If another animal approaches during mealtime, they will happily share their food – even if there isn’t much. The only natural enemy of a Fliegen is the Snowy Titmouse, a gossipy little bird of tremendous annoyance. Since Fliegen don’t like to gossip that much, well - I’m sure you can understand why the two species don’t get along. Fliegen also don’t like to be in the vicinity of nuns. A Fliegen will develop quite a rash if put into close contact with a nun.
Alone, individually, Fliegen, in fact, cannot fly that great of a distance. At most they can glide only a hundred yards or so. But together, Fliegen can easily fly as long and as far as they want. Why is this? Because Fliegen enjoy each other’s company and they enjoy hard work. So, working hard together is the greatest treat to them!
Thanks to many inaccurate stories and just plain obnoxiously incorrect songs, most people believe that Santa has a stable where he keeps his Fliegen. This is just plain false. Fliegen are the most elegant, noble creatures, and they would never, ever allow themselves to be cooped up in some old barn in the north pole! They’re not mules!
The way it works is this: Every year, right after Thanksgiving time, Nik-Klaas (he’s got so many names) leaves his cozy estate in Lapland, Finland. That’s right. The big fella doesn’t live in the North Pole. Have you seen pictures of the North Pole? Nobody could live there…it’s too cold! There isn’t any plumbing or electricity or internet – it’s completely uninhabitable. So, Nik-Klaas puts on a special bright green fur suit then makes the ten day trek from his place to Earfell Forest. Earfell Forest is a massive forest, thick with towering trees of all winter variety, and it is where the Fliegen live. Some believe Earfell Forest to be haunted, but if anyone tells you that, then you know for sure that they aren’t too smart. Forests thrive with life - otherwise they wouldn’t be forests! And how can a ghost be truly happy haunting a place with so much life. The Earfell Forest is no different. Nik-klaas walks to the edge of the forest. He doesn’t ever walk into the forest out of respect for the Fliegen’s personal space. Nik-klaas steps right up to the very edge, then tucks snowbarb and sugarbeets and barley cane into his burly beard, then calls out in Flie to the Fliegen. Now, what he says can’t be translated, but the closest words that resemble what he calls out are,

“Ho ho ho!”

After Nik-klaas calls out for the Fliegen, he kneels down on one knee and lowers his head as a gesture of the great respect that he has for the animals, and remains that way for as long as it takes until one by one, some Fliegen appear. Usually two dozen or so Fliegen show up to greet their friend.
Contrary to another popular falsehood, it is not Santa who chooses his team, but rather the team who chooses Santa. Although they feel that pulling Santa’s sleigh can be tremendous fun, sometimes a Fliegen just isn’t in the mood. So after two dozen or so Fliegen gather at the edge of the forest, the nine that decide they want to help Nik-klaas out that year step forward, lean down, and pull one of the tasty offerings out of Santa’s big beard. Once nine have done so, Santa rises, bows again deeply, turns around and heads home. The Fliegen return to the forest, but know to show up at Nik-klaas’ place on Christmas Eve.
On the morning of Christmas Eve, just as the sun rises, hoofs can always be heard crashing into the snow outside of Nik-Klaas’ house. While they await their departure later that evening, the Fliegen are fed hearty meals of cheese and sugarbeets and snowbarb and barley cane, and giving the highest quality scratches with every minute that goes by. Has it been mentioned yet that Fliegen love a good scratch between the ears? Nik-klaas himself comes out to check on their mood, updates them on the weather, and usually tells them a really good joke about a snowman who likes to eat candy canes.
If you haven’t guessed it already, Nik-klaas is very much loved by all Fliegen. When he was a child, it was a Fliegen that saved him from certain death. And then later, it was Nik-klaas who grew Earfell Forest for them to seek refuge in back during the days when nuns were trying to run them out of existence. But all that is to be told another time.
Once nightfall arrives, Nik-klaas’ assistants gently harness all nine Fliegen to the loaded sleigh. Nik-klaas comes out a final time, stands before them in his bright red fur suit, and kneels deeply to say “Thank you.” If the Fliegen all kneel back in unison, then it is time for take-off!
Take-offs…what a sight to see! Nik-klaas gives the go ahead in Flie and the Fliegen all start to gallop. Such a clip, of course, fills Nik-klaas with so much glee that his chuckles boom out into the cold air. The chuckles, in turn, make the Fliegen so excited that they rush forth with nearly the speed of a jet and up and off they go!
So how does Santa make it everywhere in the world in one single night? Have you ever thought about that? Well, the secret is this: Fliegen don’t just fly really fast. They fly faster than time! They pull that old red sleigh with such velocity that they actually can pull ahead of time. As you well know just by watching the second-hand of a clock, time can only go so fast. Fliegen, when working together, can move much faster.
Now you know.
Fliegen are indeed still living, breathing creatures. And with all living, breathing creatures, Fliegen have…functions. To put it delicately, every Christmas Eve, there is one rooftop somewhere in the world that ends up with a little poo on it. But this isn’t regular poo, this is Fliegen poo. And as with everything else about the Fliegen, their droppings are magical, too. Nobody wants poo on their house rooftops, and the Fliegen respect this. That is why Fliegen poo turns into gold. The gold will stay on the rooftop until the end of the year. If the people who live in the house discover it before the New Year, then they get invited to Nik-klaas’ house to live and help and enjoy Christmastime for a whole year. It may seem like a long time to be away from the life that you know, but OH THE MEMORIES.

So the next time you sing about Christmas and Santa and Rudolph and Frosty…the next time you think about Jack Frost - who always so rudely nips at your nose…think about those kind, noble beasts that really represent the gentleness and generosity that Christmas should be about.

FLIEGEN: THE FLYING REINDEER.

W.O.C. (War on Christmas): SALVATION ARMY SANTA IS A CHRISTMAS IMPOSTOR - WHO YOU GIVE TO SAYS A LOT ABOUT WHO YOU ARE.

So now is the season. Now is the time. As we urgently dart from store to store, elbowing other shoppers and shoving our molten credit cards into the starving mouths of store clerks, we hear that "ting-a-ling-a-ling" in the distance. And then we all proclaim, "Ah right! Salvation Army Santa wants my loose change. No problem."

BUT I SAY HALT! STOP! DO NOT PULL YOUR HAND OUT OF YOUR POCKET! DO NOT GIVE YOUR MONEY TO THAT BEARDED CRETIN!

THE SALVATION ARMY SANTA IS AN IMPOSTOR TO THE SPIRIT OF CHRISTMAS. He's a fraud, a bastard, a bluffer and a cheat. That is, if you truly believe that the spirit of Christmas is about peace and togetherness.

Through the years the Salvation Army has been aggressive and unapologetic in it's anti-gay and pro-Christian politics.

The Salvation Army advocates against imposing "the category of sexual orientation to the list of anti-discrimination protections" by states and cities as well as against "equal benefits to domestic partnership".

The Salvation Army also does not hire people who are known to be gay and fires those who are gay when legally allowed to do so.

The Salvation Army states on its website, "Scripture forbids sexual intimacy between members of the same sex. The Salvation Army believes, therefore, that Christians whose sexual orientation is primarily or exclusively same-sex are called upon to embrace celibacy as a way of life." Jesus...who wants that?

And guess what? They do the exact same with employees or applicants who don't share the same religious beliefs.

"Hey, it's their club...they can decide how they want to play- be it right or wrong." you say. But here's the rub: nearly $300 Million (with a capitol M) of our very hard-to-come by tax dollars are funding them every single year. That instantly turns their club that doesn't like to play fair into an institution that is just damned downright UNAMERICAN!

So here's the tally: Anti-Gay. Anti-anything but Jesus. Anti-American. That is some charity.

Donating to the Salvation Army this season- ESPECIALLY in the times we live in where every dollar that we give truly means something because we all have fewer dollars, says a lot about who you are. It says that you agree with all of the above. Don't get sucked into the Salvation Army's charity sob stories, because there are worthy charities that don't endorse exclusion and hate nearly everywhere else you look.

Ho Ho Ho. Ting-a-ling.

XMAS DISNEYLAND

Just spent the day at the most Christ-less Christmas spot in all the world...DISNEYLAND! And it was everything Christmastime is supposed to be. Giant Christmas Tree sans religious angel on top. Giant ornaments! Giant snowflakes! Giant marching wooden soldiers marching in a giant parade that crescendos with Santa Clause HO HO HOing a happy a-religious Christmas. Giant pictures of giant Christmas things you can buy for giant prices! Oh, and Mickey Mouse! Not a single nativity in sight. No baby Jesus. No wise men. The only guiding light comes from the small world ride- which is completely Christmased out. And what songs do they sing? Jingle Bells and Deck the Halls. No lyrics about falling to your knees or joying to the world because your lord has come. It's about peace in the world and celebrating togetherness through singing dolls. And we all know deep down that peace on earth and celebrating togetherness, with or without singing dolls, can't be achieved as long as people are falling to their knees and demanding others fall to their knees because the lord has come.

Jingle Jingle Jingle!

IT'S TIME TO WAGE WAR ON CHRISTMAS!

I'm ready to wage War on Christmas. I like Christmas. I like the term "Christmas." I don't want to take "Christ" out of the word "Christmas" because "Happy Holidays" isn't specific enough and the sound of "Christ" sounds so round and full...such as when I exclaim, "Jesus H.M.S. CHRIST!!!" See? It's fun. And I like Christmas Trees. Mainly for the smell, but I also like the idea that Christmas trees are a human tradition older than...well, the story of Jesus. I like Santa Claus- but let's get real. Santa Claus is hardly a religious icon, aside from the very weak attempt to link him to a religion via his name. He's magical, powerful, has minions and bribes kids. And he doesn't forgive "bad kids." He just puts them on a list. Not very Christ-like. Let's get real. Christmas isn't just for christians. Christmas has evolved, you know, become more intelligent. The ideas of sharing time with family and appreciating peace and the season is the main focus now, not celebrating the birth of a made up biblical superhero. Oof...there's that word again. I wrote it a few sentences back. "Evolved." "Evolution." Sorry people who don't believe in science. But Merry Christmas anyway.

TEN THINGS I'M GOING TO DO ON MY BIRTHDAY

Since today is my birthday, I figured, why not OWN it! So here is a list of things I aim to do today on my birthday. I hope it inspires everyone to do the same on their birthday.

TEN THINGS I'M GOING TO DO ON MY BIRTHDAY

1. Wake my wife up this morning by whispering a creepy falsetto rendition of "Happy Birthday to me!"

2. Drink an ounce of beer for every year I've been alive.

3. Go to Disneyland without my kids. Then take pictures and show them later.

4. Whenever a "cast member" wishes me a happy birthday, respond with "Fuck Yeah...oh ho ho fuck yeaaaah."

5. Go to the Carnation Baby Center at the end of Main Street and request my complimentary birthday breast-feeding.

6. Play my electric guitar and then kick something over- preferably something unbreakable.

7. Point out to someone that I've survived on this world longer than Jesus did, again.

8. Demand my wife jump out of a cake in her birthday law-suit. (she's a lawyer) HIGH-HAT!

9. Accuse some kid, probably one my own, of being an ungrateful whipper snapper. Because really, I had it tougher.

10. Force my wife to applaud and encourage others around us to applaud after everything I say.

LAUGHLIN.

So we said goodbye to Williams, AZ and drove through Bullhead City to Laughlin Nevada. Why on earth would we go to Laughlin? Because it has the Colorado River, of course!

Honestly, there's not much to point out about Laughlin...except that every square foot of the place was crawling with old people. And it's one thing if this was a spot where old people were having fun. But nobody was having fun. Nobody was smiling or cheering or looking around with glee. All the old folks were just "there." It made me think of a pretty good slogan for Laughlin:

"Laughlin. Because you gotta do something to pass the time until you die..."

And then I thought maybe this is like Pinnochio... maybe young people go into Laughlin, but the experience turns everyone into an oxygen mask wearing, rascal driving octogenarian with a virgin daiquiri in one hand and a fistful of nickels in the other. Then again, maybe this is just where old people pass the time...until death says Peek-a-boo.

So after a fantastically repulsive lunch, we headed to the water for an hour long cruise on the Colorado. It was both informational AND fun. Both the girls were given the chance to steer the boat. Charlie kept the craft going straight as an arrow. Chase, on the other hand, took great efforts to turn the steering wheel left and right as much as she could. The boat, under her command, was zig-zagging, and our salty, booze swilled captain actually chuckled that he thought Chase was trying to run us on the rocks!

When Chase was done, Charlie asked her why she was trying to make the boat go so crazy, and Chase answered very sincerely, "THAT'S WHAT YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO DO WITH A BIG STEERING WHEEL!"

Anyhoo, they both got a certificate for driving the boat on the Colorado River, and we happily, and sweatily, trudged back to our car and headed home.

Home is a nice place to be...until the next adventure calls.

UNATTENDED CHILDREN WILL BE USED FOR SOUP BASE

The Dodge Four woke up early at the Grand Canyon Railway Hotel in order to walk over to Route 66, where there was a fine Country Diner that served some pretty intimidating Huevos Rancheros and Biscuits and Gravy - as well as had this wonderful warning hanging overhead. Once stuffed like all the taxidermy that adorned every other store front in Williams, it was time to head for our train.

AHHH. But before the train, was a old western shootout. The premise: Outlaws aim to rob the tourists...and it was up to the Sheriff to prevent that with some accurately projected hot lead. The baddies went down as hard as a country pun- and we took pictures with them and their horses afterward.

After that it was ALL ABOARD! The trip from Williams to the Grand Canyon was about two hours. The train itself only went about 45 miles an hour so all the scenery was soaked in good and long. Every train car had its own tour guide of sorts, and ours was a bubbly gal from Connecticut with an accent by way of Minnesota. She had so much zeal for herself and the Grand Canyon and the train itself I was convinced she had some sort of brain damage. I know Tiffany would say that's just being cynical, and I have to admit that by the end of the trip I came to admire her, in a way, but the first few miles of the train ride I was pretty sure I was being held hostage.

The tour guide had this painted on smile and severe, buoyantly blond bangs and was U-P!!! I only saw her crack once when an old Armenian tourist was talking too loud while she was talking, and she intensely leaned down to him without losing an inch of smile and said, "I'm Sorry AM I INTERRUPTING YOUR CONVERSATION?" I highly doubt the Armenian man knew what she said, because honestly none of us had a clue we were in store for a blow by blow commentary of our trip, but she happily went back to telling us about how she loves to eat her lunch and watch the tourists and squirrels and the Grand Canyon and encouraged us to confront anyone we saw littering. Ultimately, to her credit, she realized her car was about fifty percent full of Armenian Tourists, so she graciously handed over the PA to the tour guide to ensure that everyone knew what was what with the Grand Canyon and the squirrels and confronting the litterbugs. I think it was a big moment for her.

A bit later a singing Cowboy armed with a fistful of harmonica, a pocketful of puns, and an accordion ambled into our car. He quickly became irritated at some of the older folks who were trying to get around him to get to the bathroom. Finally, he just turned to one of the passers-by and said sternly, "I'm trying to do my thing here." In fact, I think he might have cut his little show short as punishment, because I could swear I saw him in the car in front of ours a bit longer. But that's okay, because he was selling mini harmonicas for five bucks. Guess which two little girls on the train each got one? Guess... guess... go ahead... guess...

Finally the train pulled into the Grand Canyon Station. After we lathered up every mortal surface with sunblock we took our first look at the Grand Canyon.

It feels silly to try to explain how beautiful that vastness was. The sky was bursting at the seams with blue and every crag and crevice looked far away and close all at the same time. It's a similar feeling you get when you are lying under the night sky in the desert. Your brain can barely keep up with what your eyes are taking in. Ultimate beauty. Instant love. Like most naturally beautiful things, it's something that humans had no part in creating, and we can only stand there and stare, like the monkeys we all actually are, and always will be.

One of the coolest things about where we were is that there were many places that had no walls or boundaries at all. Just precipice. I think this is important and I hope this never changes no matter how many jackasses stumble off to their deaths because of it. Why? Because it's a good reminder that not everything can be human-proofed.

When Chase and I saw such a spot, we couldn't resist walking right up to the edge for a photo. Charlie wanted zero part in that nuttyness. You see that small bit behind us...those brave few inches...that's it. Past that is nothing but sky below. I told Chase that we went right to "the edge" together. Hell, everyone finds themselves at the edge at some point. Why not do it at your choosing?

It didn't take long before the girls fell in love with the local army of Tassle-eared Squirrels. And I have to say I'm not a superfan of squirrels. I think in general squirrels are the thug breed of the rodent kingdom. If they could talk I'm positive they'd be little foul-mouthed gangsters that if ever graced with opposable thumbs would quickly grow an appreciation for switchblades.

However, the Grand Canyon Clan of Squirrels, probably due to generations plentiful food, are very friendly. I even saw one of these merry creatures happily sitting on the lap of a tourist enjoying a tasty treat. Of course, you're not supposed to feed the squirrels. But then you're not supposed to swear and pick our nose in public either, but we all know how that goes.

At the gift shop I was delighted to find that they sold those nifty little keychains that had a single view of the Grand Canyon you could bring along with you wherever you go- a single viewmaster-type doodad. I bought one for each of the girls. Of all the chochky sold at the gift shop, I knew these would bring the biggest delight, and they did. The below photo was dreamed up by Charlie. Looking at the Grand Canyon while looking at the Grand Canyon...

I need to point out that we vacationed with the First Family. Here's a photo I took...

...from the AP website.

I was looking forward to running into the First Family and becoming fast friends. We'd all want to get in out of the heat and lunch together - the four girls at one table and Barack, Michelle, Tiffany and I at another. The girls would expound on Spongebob Squarepants while we'd have much Sangria...

Unfortunately, they chose to visit an area that was coincidentally closed off and guarded by the secret service- and we did not. Oh well. But hey! The Dodge Family and the Obama Family shared the same two mile radius with each other at the exact same hour of day. One day the Obama girls might even tell their grandchildren about it.

All in all our visit to the Grand Canyon was brief. Not even a full day, really. But it's funny how it doesn't take long to collect memories which will carry on for life. The first time your eyes see something. The feeling of your daughter's little hand in yours while you walk along. Bits of frayed conversation. A dog wearing a hat. The smell of your girl's hair that's been sweetened by the baking sun. Brief snippets of happiness that will be recalled and relied on for much, much longer than it took to gather them. The dimensional physics behind memories are miraculous and will never be figured out, thank goodness.

Walking away from the Grand Canyon was hard. I wanted to stay longer, with no real agenda in mind. But the train was punctual, we were warned. We boarded with only four minutes to spare before the train left the station.

The train ride back, I have to say, was very special. For some reason our enlivened tour guide started to grow on me. And a different singing cowboy came and sang Elvis standards, which always brightens my mood.

And then low and behold, the girls look out of the train car window only to see MASKED COWBOYS ON HORSEBACK WITH THEIR GUNS DRAWN!!!

THEN THE TRAIN STOPS!!!

We were being robbed. The girls excitedly clambered about in their seats, their noses pressed against the window to see where the train robbers had gone. Mom dutifully gave them each a dollar so that they could be properly robbed once our train car was boarded.

The masked gunmen came barreling in....posed for photos...and modestly robbed all kind donors...then headed to the next car. THANKFULLY THOUGH THE SHERIFF WAS IN HOT PURSUIT. He was happy to oblige all photo requests, first. He actually asked Charlie to take a picture with him, as you'll see below. But he didn't ask Chase...I'm sure she was rooting for the outlaws, anyway!

By the time the robbery was over, our journey on the great iron horse was near an end. So nice. At one point Chase came over and buried her head in Tiffany's stomach. "Good Times." she said with a hug, then she scampered back over to where Charlie was sitting. So sweet. I hope the girls remember that day even better than I do.

That night we got our kicks back on Route 66! There was yet another outlaw shootout in the streets. Before the show one of the outlaws suddenly pulled out a bullwhip and cracked it right in front of Chase, who was so excited that she was standing all by herself up ahead. When the whip broke the sound barrier about twenty people all around jumped. I might have seen a slight jump in Chase's shoulders, but I'll be damned if that little girl didn't budge at that sudden, jarring act. She held her ground, and stayed where she was.

After the last glorious and gag-filled shootout, we engorged on BBQ and listened to some great live music at the Route 66 Diner. Oh BBQ, I am your bitch!

Finally we all went back to the hotel room and after a good washing we ended up watching TV. Charlie was hoping Seinfeld was on again. She had caught the Toothbrush Episode the night before and decided she must see more...but alas..only Boston Legal was on.

Soon enough we all fell asleep. The next morning was our journey back...

BUT THE FUN WASN'T OVER, OH NO!!!

Stay tuned...

Meteor Crater

Right now as I type this it is Monday night, about 10:30. A few hours ago the Dodge family returned from our weekend getaway in Arizona. We hit the Grand Canyon. I was originally planning on blogging the two nights that we were out of town, but our hotel- the Grand Canyon Railway Hotel- essentially had few amenities more modern than the Grand Canyon itself. Ok ok. The hotel did actually have wifi, but only in the hotel lobby, and I like to blog in my underwear, and those are not the sights other visitors come all the way out to Arizona to see.

We left first thing Saturday morning. I have to point out as mundane as it sounds there is a joy I get during morning departures such as this one with my family. The quick drive through McDonald's...me driving as Tiffany divies out the McMuffins and milk and tea...everyone eating and thinking about what lies down the road. Those moments are actual gems to me. So we boogied as fast as we could to magical Barstow. We arrived there the moment the outlet stores opened. That was nice. After some shopping and moseying about we all clambered back into the wagon and hit Highway 40, which runs parallel to the old Route 66. I have to admit Route 66 looks twice as fun, with its flirty hills and windy curves. But if we took 66, we'd still be on our way to Arizona...

We stopped for lunch in Kingman, AZ, at MR. D'z (apropos) route 66 diner. Charlie claims their hot dogs are the best she's ever had - EVER. And Charlie's had a lot of hot dogs in her young age, so if anyone would know it's her. We grubbed and sundaed and then hopped back in the car, because we needed to make it to THE METEOR CRATER.

Any further description of the Meteor Crater would sort of be redundant. It's a giant meteor crater! I figured once Charlie saw the city sized hole in the ground and then read all the literature explaining what caused it she'd get a little worried that more meteors could hurdle our way, and she did. When we reached the top lip of the crater the winds were whipping us from every side. Chase loved the notion that we were so high up and that the wind was making everyone teeter hither nither, to her it was high comedic adventure. Charlie not so much.

But the eye of the prize for Charlie was the gift shop. The meteor crater gift shop sells minerals and gems and all sorts of rock samples and Charlie very slowly went through everything there was for sale. (Charlie loves rocks and minerals and gems.) She even came upon fossilized dinosaur poop. I think Tiffany picked it up without first reading what it was, which made it all the funnier. No matter how many times Charlie and I explained to her it stopped being "poop" millions of years ago...she still was looking around for her Purell.

So, in the end, Charlie bought two dinos carved out of soap stone and Chase bought a bag of polished rocks. Then we turned and headed back to our stop for the night, Williams - the gateway to the Grand Canyon. Why is Williams the Gateway to the Grand Canyon even though it is sixty miles away? Because they said so.

I'm just going to pretend that I'm writing this last Saturday, so you'll have to read about what happens at the Grand Canyon tomorrow...tomorrow.

Now we come home...video added

Man...it's late.  I shouldn't even be up right now typing this because of how early we are having to wake up tomorrow to catch our flight back to Los Angeles.  But I know once I get home I'm not going to want to do this because then my head will be on things to do in Los Angeles... so...

The reason why I had to wake up so early yesterday was because I had to get tickets to the Bureau of Engraving and Printing.  It's where they make our money.  The tickets are free but are distributed on a first come first serve basis.  The ticket office opens up at 8 am.  So, naturally people begin lining up at 6 am.  Well, I did my part.  I pried myself out of bed and taxied myself over there...I got there at 630 am.  And there were already thirty people waiting!  The wait was worth it and the tour was very unique and interesting.  Watching millions of dollars being printed is something you can't do every day so...

We rounded yesterday off by hitting the Smithsonian Museums of Natural History and Air and Space.  What great Museums.  I think both Charlie and Chase enjoyed both very much.  I think they both liked the Museum of Natural History a wee bit more because of the butterfly exhibit.  (See video.)  However, at the Air and Space Museum they have converted the old cafeteria style commissary to a McDonald's slash Boston Market "McTreat" station.  Hmmm.... McTreats... So we did what any red blooded Americans would do, we stared at some space suits and then scampered over for McDonald's ice cream and McFlurrys.

Last night was the second night we visited with Helen and her Husband Hartmut and their daughter Sophie and Helen's mother.  We enjoyed every minute and I know that the girls really loved playing with Sophie.  

Today we kept it pretty simple.  Ford's theater and then the White House.  The weather was very hot here today.  We were all melting.  We couldn't get in to Ford's Theater because they were preparing to do a show.  That whole area, if you ask me, is the trappiest of all D.C.  It seems a bit wrong to peddling toddler shirts with designs that have teddy bears with Lincoln beards in the very building that Lincoln was assassinated in.  But maybe I'm just too darn sentimental.  Money money money.

I'm sad to say that we ended up NOT able to get a White House tour.  Our Congressman's pull just wasn't strong enough to get us in...the waiting list is six months long.  But we walked around and looked from the outside as best we could.  It looks quite comfortable.

We did see massive lines winding around the back block of the White House...and heard from a cab driver that Obama had decided to open up the White House to the public for today and tomorrow...but those lines were so long, and the heat was so bad here, that is just wouldn't have been worth it.  

Finally, this evening we visited with Tiffany's former co-worker at the Ninth Circuit, Theo, and his wonderful family.  Theo has two girls in the same orbital age as Charlie and Chase, so it was a grand old time.  You'd think Charlie and Chase had never seen other kids their age before.  By the end of the night Charlie was exchanging emails with her new friends.  

...And now, everyone is asleep but me.  I type this to the pleasant sounds of three people, who have had two very busy weeks, trying their best to recover.

Tomorrow...we come home.  We miss you all and can't wait to see you. 

The video will be up on Youtube shortly...  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-X-ym79sM88

Washington D.C.

My fellow Americans, this will be short.   I need to rush off to bed because tomorrow I've gotta get up before dawn to go over to the... I'll just explain tomorrow...

But superquick...

Tiffany has fallen under the sword of the head cold, and is fighting a noble and valiant battle.  Early today, though, she did have to retreat from the Capitol Building tour back to the hotel.  But take heart, I think her Snottysburg Address that was made later in the afternoon was most stirring...and she should prevail victorious by at least tomorrow afternoon. 

While at the Supreme Court giftshop, Chasie insisted on buying a little pewter gavel.  I asked her why she liked it and what it was for.  She said it's what the judges use to hit stuff with when they're angry.  Awwwwwwwww.  All evening she's been banging it on tables and yelling "Order!  Order!  Order to go!"  That may very well be the next step in this great experiment we call democracy:  due process and faster take out all in one amendment.

We visited Tiffany's friend Helen's new home just a few miles away from the capitol.  I'm in love with it.  I want to elope with the house.  It's the exact house you see in your head when you think "happy childhood."  (and the basement looks exactly like the one in That 70's Show!)  

Finally, I don't think the videos that I've been making can be seen through the posting on facebook...so if you haven't gone over to my blog directly then you wouldn't know they were there... I think... anyway, I've also pasted my latest video on youtube.  

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=40EzLS5t7TI

Good night.

Washington D.C.

Well, it's been two days here in our nation's capitol, and let me tell you.  I'm wet.  No, I'm not talking about my eyes from pride, although I am feeling a strange amount of that right now...no...IT'S RAINING ELEPHANTS AND DONKEYS OVER HERE!!!  Cold and damp and deluge and plops without any fizzesses.  

Yesterday we tackled the mall.  The layout of everything is so smart and beautiful.  The war memorials heartbreaking.  I actually looked around at some nearby space and wondered if that's where the next one or two will be erected.  A damn shame to even ponder that.

Yesterday marked the 144th anniversary of the assassination of Lincoln, which made visiting the Memorial all the more cool.  I don't think I've ever shared this with anyone but I've always held an interest in Lincoln.  If any of you want to read a total kickass book, pickup MANHUNT: the 12 Day Chase for Lincoln's Killer, by James L. Swanson.  It's a brilliant and breathtaking account of what happened 144 years ago.  But I digress.

Today we visited the new SPY MUSEUM.  It was interesting, though maybe a bit disorganized.  It claims all things in it were actual devices and techniques used by spies, but then right smack dab in the middle of the exhibit is a James Bond car.  So, maybe it was all just tourist trap stuff.  

After that we stopped by the National Museum of Portraits.  Gorgeous.  I was in awe to see so many portraits I had only seen in crummy textbooks before.  The unfinished portrait of Washington.  The profile portrait of Lincoln that the penny is based on.  I think Charlie got a lot out of that stop.

After that we made a pass through the Museum of American History.  At some point in that last fifteen years they've completely redone it.  There is a very gripping exhibit on...Lincoln's life.  They actually had the white towel that General Lee had carried when he arrived to negotiate the surrender of the South.  I was jabbering silly when I saw that.  So cool.

But honestly, aside from the Lincoln exhibit, the rest of the Museum felt very slapped together and unfinished.  So much more can be done with it.  There was a room maybe slightly larger than my office called "Thanks for the Memories."  It had Seinfeld's shirt, the Ruby Slippers from the Wizard of Oz, Sid Caesar's hat, Oscar the Grouch and Kermit, and some sports uniforms.  Really?  That's all the Museum of American History has to say about the mediums it either created or perfected?  Or even just about American pop culture?  A bit abbreviated, no? Maybe in time improvements will be made.

Although one totally rad item they were showcasing was the actual flag that inspired THE STAR SPANGLED BANNER.  After I walked through the viewing room I wanted to run back in and with a baritone voice sing "AND THE FLAG WAS STILL THERE..." but my wife saw the look in my eyes, pursed her lips and shook her head "No."  I slouched my shoulders and we walked off to go look at the old steam engine exhibit.

Our last stop of the day was to the National Archives to take a peek at the Declaration of Independence and Constitution and Bill of Rights.  This is what the trip has been mainly about for me.  I think these three documents represent some of the greatest heights of mankind.  The line to get in was forever and in the rain.  Once out of the rain, the security was as thorough as in an airport.  Once inside the belly of the archives all you could hear was the security guard endlessly blowing his whistling and screaming at the top of his voice at the swarms of high school kids that had been bused in to please stop acting like utter jackasses.  Now, I can't speak for every teen in the world, but judging from the bus load after bus load of teenagers I've encountered so far in D.C., I really advocate just locking a person up for their entire teenage stage of life.  Outside of school, just lock them in a room with their favorite things:  a computer so they can share their newly discovered wit with peers, a television and a mirror.  I think this would be beneficial to both the teen and the rest of the world.  I think it would have made me a better person, and I've already started designing my girl's teen prisons.  Frankly, I have no idea why these kids are even here to begin with.  Not a single one has looked at all interested in what they are looking at or what they are doing.  I'm not expecting them to be in awe...but don't they have to- at the very least- be AWARE of where they are?  There are just these hordes of kids everywhere sitting on floors and flirting and screaming and posing and phoning and texting and jumping on each other's backs and pouting and hugging each other and doing everything but what I thought a person could do best after taking the trouble to get to Washington D.C.- look around!  Please America, stop busing your kids to Washington!  A bus full of teenagers doesn't improve any mood, environment or situation.

By the way, I was still totally geeked at seeing the old documents.  They are all really faded and kept in the chambers of gas that glow green...

When Tiffany and I decided to bring the girls on this trip I immediately started trying to picture what it would be like.  The one thing I never imagined was all the opportunity for great conversation with the girls that we've had.  We're not forced to jam in conversation over a bath or dinner or shoehorn a talk in before bedtime or school time.  We are actually talking.  And Washington offers so much to talk about!  This has been great.  I can't wait to do it again tomorrow.

New York Fever...

As fortune would have it...I got sick while in New York.   Asthma came and paid me a visit and I turned into a giant, heaving, sweaty creep wherever I went...so the heaving was the only thing different from the usual.  But as I type this, with the help of an absolute saint I am on the mend.  Hopefully the rest of us remain healthy for our last leg of the Dodge Eastern Seaboard Tour 09...Washington D.C.  

I gotta say I really want to go back to New York real super soon.  There are so many other places I want to go see and so many restaurants I want to try.  I love the busy environment.  I found New Yorkers to be, on the whole, tons nicer than they have the reputation to be.  Again, I think it’s the crammed environment.  People aren’t rude here...they’re just honest.  I find that refreshing.  There’s just no time or space to beat around the bush with empty niceties.  

The memories that will stick with me are many.  I’ll never forget that the first thing Chase did when we got to Central Park was to demand a picture of herself along with a very militant statue of Che Gueverra.  I wish I had that picture.  Unfortunately my iphone froze up at that golden moment.  

I'll never forget how eerily quiet Wallstreet was with the blocked off streets and barracaded and NYPD-guarded building entrances. Wall street seems to be in a strange state of recoil...and maybe it was my imagination but I could feel the low morale just seeping out of the buildings out onto everything around.  Right across is a statue of Washington commemorating where he was sworn in.  I wonder if Washington ever looked up and imagined what it all would be like in the future.  Probably not.

I’ll never forget seeing the Chrysler Building at night.  And the Empire State Building with its colored tiers.  I loved watching Charlie's face light up along with the rest of the signs in Times Square.  I'll never forget watching Chase hail a cab, totally beating me to the punch.  And I'll never forget the plunging sensation in my gut every time Chase impulsively dove into a revolving door- always at the very last minute and always before we told her it was safe to go.  And, of course, Lady Liberty.  We were on a three hour boat tour that went completely around Manhattan when we saw the Statue of Liberty.  

We had an old tour guide with a Casey Cassem-type voice narrating facts that nobody could really hear over the boat engine.  Decked out in a captain’s uniform, he’d drone on and on with his yuckity yuck voice walking around the boat with his wireless microphone, but overtime someone stood up out of their folding chair to take a picture or stretch (it was a three hour boat ride) he’d walk over to the stander, turn off his microphone and become the nastiest SOB on planet.  Apparently, if one person on the boat stands, then everyone on the boat will want to stand.  And then nobody will be able to see- even though everything we were looking at was typically at skyscraper height. No standing.  After every threat, the guide would turn his microphone back on and resume his yuckity yuck narration.  By the end of the three hour tour I felt as if I just might know what it felt like to be an immigrant coming to America, from desperate flight of tyranny... laying eyes on New York Harbor for the first time, weeping with gratitude that the tour...er... voyage was over.  What is that inscription on the pedestal of Lady Liberty again?  

“Give me your tired tourists, your poor in pulmonary health...your huddled masses yearning to break free from angry tour guides.”  

It’s something like that, I’m paraphrasing a bit...  

A real quick cool note:  The hotel we stayed at is right next to the United Nations Building.  All the various Embassies surround it.  Every morning as we set out we'd pass by a baker's dozen worth of Asian reporters with their microphones and cameras pointed right at this unmarked side door across the street.  Every microphone and camera was vigilantly aimed at the door like a firing squad.  Every night when we were dragging ourselves back...they'd still be there...on complete reporter red alert.  Finally, last night, as we were grabbing some supplies from the convenience shop right across the street from this sight, someone came out of the door, and all the reporters and cameramen came to life, pushing and shoving and crowding and dogging the one guy coming out.  I even heard a woman squeel- as if she got trampled.  Well we finally learned what the hub-bub was over.  The guy the reporters were waiting on?  Oh nothing, he was just the representative from NORTH KOREA!  World politics at work...

My last New York memory is this - as our Cabbie was pulling over in front of Penn Station to drop us off, another taxi edged in alongside in an attempt to steal our curb space.  Our cabbie muttered, “Mutherfucker” and lurched our cab forward to cut the other taxi off.  Our cab’s side mirror knocked the other cab’s mirror.  Our guy won the curb space.  Our cabbie then jumped out of his cab and started yelling at the other cabbie, who ended up stopping right behind us.  The yelling continued as our cabbie unloaded our luggage and very pleasantly thanked us for the fare.  As we walked away I heard the other cabbie yell to our cabbie, “I’ll have your head!!!”  Ah, New York.  I’m going to miss you.

New York oooOOOOOHHHOOoooo

Alright.  So I didn't post yesterday because New York nearly broke me in half.  And yesterday was only a half day because the train didn't get in until about mid-day anyway.  But I was so exhausted that I was nearly feverish by the time we got back to the hotel.  Yesterday we trained into NYC.  And the weather was miserable.  Rainy.  Cold.  Windy.  Really cold.  Really windy.  As we were walking around we were looking at all the quaint locals with their fashionable rain shoes on of various designs.  Soon enough we realized that it's not fashion as much as a necessity because the streets here are nothing but one puddle after another.  Chase and Charlie's shoes got wet about ten minutes into walking around.  We needed to get Chase some new shoes anyway because we discovered that she had a hole in one of her shoes.  IN THE SOLE.  Not at a seam or where some weak stitching gave way.  But right through the rubber on the bottom of her shoe...you know... the part that is the last to wear out.  We had walked Chase around Boston so much we wore out her shoes.  All the pleas to be carried and sobs about sore legs echoed through our minds.  Then Tiffany and I laughed, hi-fived, and took Chasie to Kmart to buy her some fashionable New York shoes.  You can catch them in the video and photos.  She's quite proud of them.

We also caught a show yesterday called Dear Edwina.  It was off Broadway.  Really off.  But it was a musical for kids and Charlie and Chase ate it up.  They had a grand old time. 

After that we found ourselves in the village, and since i could no longer feel my head because of the cold I decided to get a knit cap from one of those guys with the tables on the sidewalk.

"How much for the grey one?"

"Seven dollars."

"Seven dollars?  I've got five."

"Okay six."

I made a very unpleasant face in reaction to this, then demanded, "Okay!" 

I drove a really hard bargain.

After my head was warm we warmed our bellies first with fries at Pommes Frites.  I hope that's how you spell it because I'm not checking it now.  Hmmm. If you've never eaten there you should give it a try.  There were two chairs right near the front door so we plopped the girls in them and everyone in line watched the two of them eat as they waited to make their order.

After Pommes Frites, we hit a chocolate restaurant called Max Brenner.  This place specializes in everything chocolate and I'll tell you now, it's the best chocolate I've ever had.  

The girls slurped up their fancy hot chocolates and wanted more...but it was time to go.

As we walked back to the hotel Charlie asked me, "Hey Dad, do you know what French kissing is?"

"Hmmm.  Kind of... what is it?"

"It's where you kiss but you rub tongues together!  They call it French kissing, but I don't think the French invented it."

"Where did you hear about it?"

"I was looking up idioms at www.idioms.com and that was one of them."

"Oh.  Okay."

"Yeah."

Who said New York isn't full of educational surprises.

So last night I knocked out really hard.  I think if I had stayed up I'd have gotten sick.  The wind here- the frigid wind here seems to be royally kicking my ass.

Anyhoo, so today we woke up...We had the best bagels and lox I've ever had in my life at Tal Bagels on 57th and 1st.  Oh man.  Then it was time to hit Central Park.

There isn't a way to take a bad picture in Central Park.  I'm still trying to wrap my head around how beautiful that place was.  And today being Easter Sunday...there were tons of people out, which to me made it even better.

We hit the playground.  The girls couldn't stop climbing all of the rocks jutting out of...well, everywhere.... we went to the fountain... saw the Alice in Wonderland statue...and then went to Strawberry Fields.  I have to say that Strawberry Fields is a bit of a sham tribute to John Lennon.  There are signs everywhere demanding that it is a quiet area and music is not allowed to be played.  Seems to be a counter intuitive tribute to one of the world's greatest song makers.  But there were tons of crowds to take pictures in front of the tile memorial that reads "Imagine."  This also seemed a bit silly.  I know if Lennon could give an opinion on it he'd tell everyone that if we really wanted to pay tribute to what he was about (or tried to be about)  then we should really tackle the world's problems.  Preach Preach Preach.

After we were finished with Central Park we mosied on over to the Museum of Natural History.  Having been there, I can tell you for certain the movie was a complete fabrication.

Finally we hit Times Square..whoa!  What a tourist trap...but we had fun, anyway!

Alright.  Here's the latest videologue and I hope I have enough energy for further entries... this has not been spellchecked...there just isn't any time...

Boston...

Well...as I write this Charlie, Chase and Tiffany are sleeping deep after another day of hoofing it all over Boston.  First, we woke up early enough to go to Boston's Chinatown - which is funny because it practically is a single street.  But we Dim Sum'd at Empire Pavilion and it was good.  The place itself looked like it must have been an old theater, because it had massively high ceilings and all sorts of ornate decorations everywhere.  Let me tell you, the food was fresh and scrumptagious.  You may not have guessed it, but Boston Dim Sum is indeed as good as Dim Sum back home.  But it just hit me, they didn't offer chicken's feet.  Chicken's feet are my favorite Dim Sum dish!

We had drummed up a massive morning appetite because yesterday we went out to Cambridge and took a stroll through Harvard.  I have to confess it didn't really mean much to me as we were walking through.  The Harvard Natural History museum was impressive in its collection of taxidermy.  We saw a lion hanging out in the same glass case as a bear and a monkey.  You don't really see that in a museum nowadays.  

Here are the girls with the timeless Harvard Water Pump.

Later we met our old high school debate pal Jong and his lovely wife and two boys for dinner.  After dinner Jong took us back over to campus and gave us some Harvard history and filled us with factoids that brought the campus alive.  He pointed out where Kennedy dormed- which is also where he himself dormed.  He told us about some of the architecture of the school.  He took us to various corners of the campus and really made it all mean something.  Harvard is very old and is very aware of its age.  I can just picture a youthful Jong now, trudging through the frosty morning to one of his classes...the world his Boston Harbor Oyster, rubbing Mr. Harvard's shoe (a statue that is widely known to not actually be of Mr. Harvard at all) for good luck for a test coming up that afternoon- a custom students allegedly do on a regular basis.  I myself would be on my knees in front of the statue crying in disbelief that I got into Harvard to begin with.  I would be wailing and my nose would be runny and frozen on my quivering lip and I'd be pleading with the statue to please oh please come to life and take the test for me, because there is no possible way that I could pass ANY test offered at Harvard.  I guess it's a good thing, then, that I decided to never even apply...

I must add here a special "thank you" to Jong and his family for taking the time to visit with us - especially on a weeknight - and on top of that Jong drove us back to our hotel...and gave us a bonus tour along the way.  (He drove us by John Kerry's house.)  Thanks guys.  I really really wanted to post a picture of everyone right here but we took it on Charlie's camera and Charlie's camera has decided it isn't going to talk to my computer on this trip.  I'm sorry I can't share that photo, but just imagine my family with four of the coolest people in the world, and that will do the trick.

So this morning after Dim Sum the family tackled the the New England Aquarium.  You will see much of what we saw on the little video offered below.  It was a beautiful aquarium but quite busy and crowded.  My guess is that since it is Good Friday many people, knowing that fish was for dinner, really wanted to work up an appetite by coming to the aquarium.  I myself had prime rib for dinner.  

After the aquarium we hit the children's museum.  The girls jumped and climbed and crawled and pumped and smacked and bubbled and washed and floated and looked and did many other verbs that kids love to do there.  But this is the moment I will treasure always- and it took place right outside of the children's museum.

This photo was taken in front of the spot where the Boston Tea Party Happened!  Right there.  Behind us!  I can't tell you how stoked I was at this, because I think the Boston Tea Party was one of the greatest packages of rebellion and humor ever delivered by mankind - and to me it was the first truly "American" act the colonists conducted. 

All of this made us very hungry for lunch so we ate at a place called The Barking Crab.  I realize that the restaurant's name sounds like the last thing you'd ever want a doctor to tell you you've contracted, but The Barking Crab had tons of fresh seafood of every variety.  It was rustic and salty in atmosphere and only the women's restroom was working, and the door didn't lock.  So I'd like to apologize now to the woman I "interrupted."  It wasn't personal, I promise.  But your panicked eyes peering over the stall door will haunt me for days.

I myself ordered a total of two pounds of every kind of crab that is currently in season.  Tiffany ordered a lobster roll. This is what a lobster roll looks like.  Take that, fast food!

Tiffany put it in her tummy and was happy.  All four of us consumed the crab and laughed at how full we were.

After we came back to the hotel for a quick rest, we went back to Faneuil Hall for one last time, and supped some Yankee Food at Durgen Park.  Then, after buying some tasty dessert treats, we said our goodbyes to one hell of a great town.  Great men and moments seem to be drawn to Boston.  From the witch trials to the Revolutionary War to Abolition to Colonel Robert Shaw and the 54th Massachusetts Infantry to John Kennedy to almost NASA and John Kerry.  Very few cities in this country, even in the world, can boast so many layers of history.

Tomorrow.  To NYC.