farmer pants

First post of 2012

2012-01-01T18:38:00.000-08:00

It has been almost five months since my last post. I think there is a strong correlation with the fact that my son turned five months old yesterday. Here are a few pictures of him:

There are loads of other pictures from the past several months, along with some very fun videos at Megan's flickr site: http://www.flickr.com/photos/megancornwell.

At five months, Will smiles a lot. He also giggles (mommy gets these out of him more easily than daddy). He likes to stand up. He rolls over from his stomach to his back and is almost able to roll the other way. He drools. A lot. He is happy when he is awake. He does not sleep well. He is very cuddly when he is tired. He gives big, sloppy wet kisses (or maybe he's trying to nurse from your face - sometimes it is hard to tell). He is not afraid of strangers yet. He likes being naked. He loves his grandmas and grandpas. He likes to squeal very loudly at an extremely high pitch (we're trying to get him to work on his lower register.) When he gets excited he extends stiff arms and legs and makes a high pitch gurgle sound that sounds to me like a crazy parakeet.

Having a child has unquestionably changed our lives forever. Will brings new joy and light into our lives every day. I find it remarkable how I can wake up each day - sometimes after only getting a few hours of sleep because of our little boy's restlessness - and feel a deeper love and gratitude for him. I have on more than one occasion come home frustrated from work and immediately begun heatedly telling Megan about some incident that has angered me, and suddenly noticed Will's big blue eyes and ear to ear grin welcoming daddy home. There is no better tonic to help a guy gain proper perspective on life.

The biggest challenges of parenthood for me so far have been the loss of sleep (poor Megan suffers far more than I in this department - with Will sometimes waking up every hour) along with trying to balance home life with a ridiculously busy work schedule. Due to some staff changes at KIPP, I have assumed the responsibilities of Director of Accounting, IT, HR, Operations, and any other thing related to the business of running three schools and a central office that you can think of. This is not sustainable and has made for a stressful few months for me. Thankfully, I'm working with a team that understands this and is willing to help find solutions. I'm crossing my fingers for additional help soon.

We have had lots of visitors. 4 of Will's five uncles have visited (along with his two aunts, his soon to be aunt, and a cousin). The fifth uncle swings into town this week. Will met his great Grandma O'Grady and his Great-Great Grandpa Darling in October. His grandparents (Megan and my parents) visit often and have been graciously adept at helping us to get our lives and new house into some semblance of order.

We like living in Stapleton. We have some great neighbors (we seem to be in the right demographic as five babies were born on our block this summer). I think we're finally starting to feel like we're putting down roots in Denver. The next (and pressing) goal for us is to find a church that we can connect with and commit to being a part of that community.

We spent Christmas in Frisco with Megan's family (we alternate years - this was a Cornwell year).

We had a wonderful time relaxing, making old-fashioneds in honor of Megan's Grandpa Gordon, and watching movies. It is fun to spend the holidays in the mountains -- though sadly there was a lack of snow this year which made the skiing less enjoyable for the skiers. It was a gift to be able to hand off Will at 6:00AM each morning so that we could get a couple of hours of uninterrupted sleep. We are very blessed to have such a supportive and loving family around us.

Good Will O'Grady

2011-08-08T12:22:00.000-07:00

It's a boy!!
William (Will) Gordon O'Grady was born last week at 6lbs and 19.25inches. I was a little surprised to find out that all of those kicks and jabs were coming from a little boy and not a little girl -- what fun to not know until the last minute!

Labor was trying. I consider my wife one of the strongest and most noble people I will ever know. She started having contractions on Saturday afternoon. They were pretty mild, and not overly painful, and we went to bed excited that we may be waking up soon to go to the hospital. About 1:30 or so, a couple of house after we went to bed, Megan woke me up to say that the contractions were stronger and hitting in a more regular pattern. We started timing them, and in a couple of hours they were lasting about a minute and coming 4-6 minutes apart -- so we knew it was time to go. Steve and Jan had just arrived home from the funeral of Megan's Grandfather (Gordon Cornwell) and were spending the night with us. They decided to meet us at the hospital.

By around 3:30am we checked into our birthing suite. We had a TERFFIC nurse who monitored how things were going. The contractions were in Megan's back and were incredibly painful. Before long the doula arrived. After about an hour or two in the hospital, the contractions became incredibly painful, so much so that Megan threw up, but she was not dilating. At that point we had the option of staying in the hospital, partly because Megan had passed her due date, or going home. We were told she could be in this stage of labor for several days, which to me seemed unbearable. Staying in the hospital would have increased the potential of medical intervention (breaking the water, giving Pitocin, etc) so Megan opted to go home, as our intention was to try as much as possible to have a natural birth. She was given an Ambian and we were advised that when she woke up her labor would be stalled or have turned in truly active labor (dilating her cervix).

The Ambian put Megan to sleep, but she woke up for every contraction. At this point they varied between 6-11 minutes and lasted a minute long, and she was in excruciating pain for several more hours. Since we had not slept much the previous night, I laid next to her and in between contractions we would wake up and I would apply counter pressure to her back during the contractions to try and help.

After about 6 hours of this, we realized the pain was intolerable and decided to head back to the hospital. I encouraged Megan to get whatever she needed to alleviate the pain, since it was so constant for so many hours.

To speed the story up: we got to the hospital, and Megan seemed to relax a bit more for an hour or so. The contractions continued as they had been, but she seemed more at peace being there. When examined, we found that the contractions all day Sunday had dilated her two centimeters, putting her officially into 'active labor' and she decided to try to go another few hours without drugs.

Jen Lux, our amazing doula, was present and amazing throughout the entire hospital stay. She knew how to support Megan, talk her through the pain, encourage positions that sped along the contractions, and generally guided Megan and I through the process better than I could have ever imagined. Before long, we knew we were getting close. Jen pushed Megan to try a couple of other positions and after that and a stint in the tub, it was time to push.

Megan endured these final stages with more grace, strength and courage that I believe I will ever have. It was amazing to see the plates of our little son's head emerge slowly and then come together as he entered the world. There was so much commotion the few seconds after he arrived that I couldn't see what I needed in order to announce the gender to Megan -- and then the doctor held his legs to confirm the fact -- he's all boy!

The doctor and nursing staff were unbelievably amazing. The nurse the helped us through the last four hours or so told us that it was a privilege to be a part of our birth, because of how strong Megan was and how we all were able to work as a team.

William is Megan's maternal grandpa who would have been 100 the day that Megan started having contractions (Sat) and Gordon is her paternal grandpa who just passed away.

We are in love with our little Will.

GRACE

2011-08-08T12:14:00.000-07:00

The past few weeks I feel like Megan and I have been basting in what is surely more daily recommended stress than the FDA would ever allow. Or the APA. Or whoever recommends those things. Poor Peanut will probably end up being a nervous Nelly/Nelson because of his/her parents.

The stress was amped up in early June, when we were originally set to close on our East Harlem apartment, but there was a last minute delay regarding an insurance policy (the building was covered under an umbrella policy and Fannie Mae wanted it to have an individual policy). We spent weeks emailing the building management company, board president, lawyers, realtors, and bank agents trying to get the issue resolved. In the meantime, we had finally found a house that we both really liked (nice amount of space for the moula, good schools, a backyard, great neighbors) – and we found ourselves in a bidding war less than a week after the house went on the market. The seller was already out of the state and wanted to dump it – AKA GREAT DEAL. So we made an offer, contingent upon the sale of our NYC place (because we needed the cash from that sale in order to buy something else), and we hoped and prayed the NYC apt issues would be resolved before the dates in our contract expired on the Denver house.

Our offer was accepted. However, as it turned out, no one in NYC seemed to care that we would lose our Colorado home if they didn’t resolve the insurance issue on the Harlem apartment. Or that Megan was 9 months pregnant and desperately wanting to settle before the baby came. (She DID shed some tears during a couple of phone calls in the hopes that we could win a sympathy vote from someone.) We were on the phone and/or email daily, sometimes hourly – trying to move the process along. It wasn’t like herding elephants, exactly – more like herding…stubborn, lazy, illiterate elephants. Who can’t write a coherent email. Everyone blamed someone else throughout the entire ordeal (the lawyers blamed the management company for being stubborn, stupid, and slow, the management company didn’t believe the banks and refused to change their policy, the board president didn’t want to make a hasty decision that would cost the building more money, and we blamed EVERYONE (except the board president) for being incompetent, incapable of writing a grammatical sentence in any of their emails, and generally unresponsive to our daily pleas for help.

The cherry on top of all of this for me was that, on the job front, I had to close out the entire year’s financials (over 6 million dollars for 4 entities) in less than two weeks, so that our auditors could come to our office for our annual audit – my first solo audit in any job. The audit is probably the single most significant part of my yearly responsibilities in this position, and I was terrified I was going to be fired for not doing something correctly.

= TOO MUCH STRESS.

I think everything culminated on Saturday the 16th. Megan and I had a pretty good fight (that seemed to wax and wane over several hours.) I was angry all day at everything and Megan cried all day at everything. By dinner we decided to go on a date and we had a nice long talk about what was and wasn’t working in our lives – and how to communicate better in the midst of our stress. Then we went to Harry Potter 3D. Things seemed to take a turn for the better after this. That Elder wand really is something.

Because of God (probably the biggest reason) and our prodding all day long every day (probably the smaller reason), we got a closing date set on the NYC apartment for Tuesday July 19th. Our closing date for the CO house was set for Thursday, July 21st (we never adjusted it from our original offer). Everyone was nervous. There seemed to be obstacles at every turn. The majority of our funds were held in an online HSBC account, and we were initially told that we could not access those funds for well over a week (too late). A second call, in which I spoke with a non-Indian employee, revealed that we could have a certified check over-nighted to us if we paid the Fedex fee (no problem!) Our NYC lawyer refused to wire our proceeds from the Harlem apartment after closing – he said it wasn’t possible (?) - so we had to figure out how to turn the funds around quickly once they got here (if you’re ever in this situation, it turns out you can simply sign over a certified check, that is made out to you, to a title company. Who knew?).
NYC closed on Tuesday, as scheduled. Our lawyer over-nighted our check and faxed the HUD statement to the Colorado title company. Our Colorado house closed on Thursday, as scheduled.

As a side note, and further confirmation that we are living in the right place, everyone in Colorado was patient, helpful, supportive, and competent throughout the entire housing ordeal. Their butts were on the line too, and they were nothing but supportive and kind to us. Closing was a breeze and everyone in the room made fun of the incompetent New Yorkers who literally whited out and hand wrote in numbers on the HUD settlement statement. No one understands why funds couldn’t be wired. Our Denver mortgage rep showed up at closing – though there was nothing for him to sign or to do – simply because he is old school, wanted to meet us, and thinks people should interact more. I sometimes miss the city of New York. But most days I remember that in other parts of the country you don’t have to fight for every single thing that in other places are standard. Like kindness. Like people doing more than the bare minimum required in their jobs –even when it doesn’t serve them. Like wiring money and having computer printers print title documents. I think about these things, and then I release a breath of thanks to God that we live in Colorado. Maybe I’m still just high on the altitude.

To continue our week of GRACE – after the two closings Megan’s parents and my aunt Kathy came to our apartment while I was working and boxed 95% of our belongings. At work, our auditors essentially finished in three days, after complimenting me all week and telling me I should train all of their clients. Megan made us a picnic dinner that we ate on the floor of our NEW HOUSE the night after we closed. I accidentally christened the house by spilling champagne in the living room 5 seconds after we sat down. And about 100 strong and capable movers showed up to help us move in 90 degree heat on Saturday. OK, slight exaggeration on the number of movers – but we had so much help that everything was unloaded in the new house in less than 4 hours after we started at the apartment – and that includes the 30 minute drive between the apartment and the house.

Megan and I keep looking around at (what feels like) a cavernous space and laughing giddily to each other about how weird it is to own a real house. We painted and set up our bedroom (before and after pictures may come, if I am motivated enough). I must confess that it was extremely weird to wake up for work the first morning and walk DOWN THE STAIRS to our kitchen to make coffee. It probably didn’t help that I had to look in every single cupboard to find the coffee and filters.

Baby O’Grady still hasn’t come, but when he/she does, we will have a little more room to move around in – and maybe even a nursery set up.

The guest room (we have a REAL GUEST ROOM!) will be the third in line for painting/setting up – so that our friends and family can come visit!

Weekend in Frisco

2011-05-08T13:43:00.001-07:00

One of the blessings of living so close to Frisco is that we can come up for the weekend and enjoy all of the great deals during the "in-between" season (or mud season, as they call it here). Yesterday we had a wonderful 2 for 1 dinner at a fancy restaurant, went on a hike, and benefited from awesome deals on some pretty adorable little gender neutral baby clothes. I have to admit that it was fun to see all of the cute baby clothes...until I quickly realized how much money were were about to drop on clothes the baby won't actually wear for very long (at least not the newborn stuff). At one point, when were deciding whether or not to buy a little baby outfit I said, "This is how much I would spend on a shirt for myself!" So in the end we were disciplined in our purchases, and still got some fun and cute stuff.

It was also great to celebrate Megan today for the first time as a 'mom to be.' I had sneakily purchased a card and little gift this week. This morning when I went down to get everything, my brother Joe texted Megan to tell her happy Mother's Day. Apparently Megan replied to him, "Thanks...you get points because Jeremy hasn't even said anything to me today." Ha! I guess he beat me to the draw. After the gift opening we called both of our moms and then we had a nice brunch at the Butterhorn (everyone's favorite local bfast stop on Main Street). Then we benefited from yet another great deal, a handmade Aspen wood shelf that we will use as a changing table. Fun story: yesterday we went into this really cool shop of handcrafted furniture (most of which was significantly out of our price range). Megan saw a beautiful display shelf with a $79 price tag. She sheepishly asked the sales clerk if the price tag was a mistake, and the woman said, "No, we just want to get rid of it. There is nothing wrong with it but we really just don't like it and it doesn't fit with the rest of the furniture we sell here." We came home and thought about it, measured the space in the back of the Prius, decided it would fit and that we would take a look at it again this morning. So after brunch this morning we went back to the store and there was a different sales clerk -- and no price tag on the shelf. Megan started to explain the conversation we had had with the other clerk yesterday and the man seemed a little bit irritated. He said, "well, yesterday that price tag was just sitting on this shelf and it wasn't meant to be the sales price, but because Brandi (the previous clerk) told you it was, we decided we'd let you have it for that if you came back." Score!! So we purchased a beautiful hand made piece of furniture for a couple hundred dollars less than it should have cost.

After the fun purchase we decided to take a walk along Lake Dillon. I'm attaching some pictures of the beautiful scenery and my beautiful wife.

Baby!

2011-04-14T18:29:00.000-07:00

We had our second ultrasound today. You can see our little Peanut's profile here. Except for the fact that Peanut would NOT move to show us his/her left hand, everything appears to be in good shape. We collectively decided to interpret the not moving as a sign that he/she really likes to sleep rather than as a sign that we're going to have a stubborn baby. I did take a gander between the legs and I still couldn't tell what I was (or wasn't) seeing. So the gender will remain a mystery!

Because of a huge consignment sale in Denver last week, we also now have a nice little pile of baby stuff accumulating in the corner of our little apartment...bouncy seat, baby carrier, blow up bathtub, changing mat, mini-diaper bag. We also bought this:

As you can tell, we're very excited and we hope we have a room to set the lamp in someday soon. On that note, we officially mailed off our board packet for the NYC apt. yesterday, so cross your fingers that the board meeting happens soon and that the buyer is approved by both the board and the city. We have a meeting with a realtor on Saturday to check out a couple of neighborhoods in Denver.

Megan has been busy researching cribs, co-sleepers, carseats, the cheapest place to buy diapers (Costco) -- you name it! We're both thankful she has time to get our acts together before Peanut arrives.

I have been missing our former NYC community a ton lately. I don't miss the city at all, but I do miss our friends, our church, and the life that was built over 9 years there. We know it will take time to feel like this is home - and it is becoming home more every day - but it is hard to not meet in midtown to catch up over a drink or coffee. All that to say - come visit!

Half way there!!

2011-03-13T20:43:00.000-07:00

I'm a lame blogger. I know. I've been meaning to write more often...but I find it hard to find the discipline to sit down and do it.

Things are moving along quickly here in Denver. I have officially passed the 6 month mark at my job. In looking back to when I started this summer, I realize that I have gained a bit more confidence, but the stress levels are still higher than I was expecting them to be. I'm working on learning to leave the stresses of the job at the job -- although as Megan can attest, I'm not very good at doing this yet. But I'm trying.

And more importantly, we had our 20 week ultrasound this week! Megan's mom joined us at the doctor's office for baby's first home movie. We have decided not to find out the gender of our baby. Well, I say WE decided because Megan doesn't want to know, and I doubt I could keep the secret. This, however, did not keep me from looking intently at the monitor. I saw everything I was supposed to, but sadly I have nothing to report. Reading ultrasound screens accurately will never be a skill on my resume. I know I was looking where I needed to, but I have no idea whether we're having a boy or a girl.

The technician said she knows what we're having. Which was a little bit like torture to hear. Torture in a fun way. I know we'll be happy to be surprised. I think Grandma Marsha, however, was hoping to get a text telling her the baby's gender. Waiting means she has hold off on buying all of the pink or blue things she wants to buy for her next grandaughter or first grandson. :)

The ultrasound went on for quite awhile, which was somewhat surprising to me. It was pretty amazing to see our little alien kick its legs and wiggle its belly. Apparently all of the parts are in the right place and everything is normal. But the technician did not get as good of a view of the baby's heart as she'd have liked, so we will be going back in a few weeks for another ultrasound. We were assured that this does not mean something is wrong. And we're being mostly successful in not stressing out about it. The good news is that I'll have a second chance to get a look at the kid's goods.

Yes, I will be looking intently mom.

You heard it here first!

2011-01-15T12:24:00.000-08:00

Newsletter coming via email sometime this weekend...but wanted to share something we presented to our parents for Christmas....

Holidays!

2011-01-01T14:33:00.000-08:00

Happy New Year! Well, it has been over a month since I last posted. But, in my defense, it has been a busy month. :)

Two weeks before Christmas we moved into our TINY (even for NYC standards) new apt and Megan whipped it into shape in a week. We have a lot of boxes stacked and hidden away, but we're pretty well moved in. It is a swanky building in a GREAT area, very close to work, and there are lots of stores and awesome restaurants around. We're pretty happy there, but we miss my aunt Kathy!

Speaking of my aunt Kathy, I think I mentioned in my previous post that she invited me to be in an art show with her. That happened in December and it was a very special experience for me. I definitely felt I was the 'novice' artist of the show, but it was still fun to have my painting in a bonafide gallery. Here is a picture of my aunt Kathy and me standing by our paintings. Mine is called "Transitions."

Christmas was spent at my parents' house in Danville, VA with all of my brothers, their significant others, uncle Keith, and all of my grandparents. It was definitely a full house with 16 stockings over the fireplace!! Unfortunately Jake's girlfriend Corinne did not make it from NYC because of the storm, and my brother Jon and my grandparents both had cancelled flights trying to get home. But we had some fun times!!

Mainly, we were all entertained by this cutie:

(image by Josh Ford used without permission...but it is on Facebook... is it OK to post Maggie?)

My adorable niece Molly Leah O'Grady was quite the entertainment. Her laughs, squawks, and twinkling eyes kept us all smiling--even though she was constantly mauled by her grandfather. In fact, Molly did remarkably well with so many people in such a confined space, and (thankfully) she seems to enjoy her uncles and aunt.

We also played a lot of cards over Christmas, and were consistently beat by big bad Joe, who, by the way, has been working out and looks great. As per usual, we had many laughs. I literally almost tossed my cookies one night I was laughing so hard.

Megan and I returned to Denver around 1:00AM on Wednesday morning and headed up to Frisco early Thursday morning. We beat snowstorms in both Denver and Frisco, and we have been having fun being snowed in with mom and dad #2. Their anniversary was last night (New Year's Eve) so we all went out to dinner and then went to Copper Mountain to see a breathtaking fireworks display (through the car moon roof, as it was -9 outside!)

So, all in all, things are going well. It has been VERY nice to have 11 days off of work, and I'm not 100% excited to return on Monday. But I will return rested, and I'm not complaining about that. Next weekend we return to Frisco (which is only a 75 minute drive) to have Cornwell Christmas with Megan's brother Andy and his wife Jessica.

I hope you all had a great holiday!!!

Thanks!

2010-11-28T17:10:00.001-08:00

We returned last night from a wonderful few days in snowy Frisco, where we relaxed with some good friends ...and, of course, over-ate a large amount of delicious food. What a great way to spend Thanksgiving...unwinding in a winter wonderland, away from work and the hustle and bustle of daily living. I felt like the world stopped for a few days and I was finally able to catch my breath.

Many of the hours in Frisco were spent painting. I was invited by my aunt Kathy to be in an art show at her gallery in December (Ice Cube Gallery, Denver, CO). For the Christmas show this year, each member of the gallery will present one piece of art and each also invited one friend or family member to present a piece with them. The show goes up in a couple of weeks and I've very excited to be showing a piece of art in a bonafide gallery. First time for that... how fun! I'll post a picture of my painting when it is finished.

Also, we found a small 1 BR apartment in the Cherry Creek neighborhood (4 miles from my job) and we'll be moving in a couple of weeks. It is a short term rental (we're taking over a guy's lease which gave us a great rate for the neighborhood). We're going to miss my aunt tremendously and will probably be hanging out in Arvada often. I am, however, looking forward to being nearer to work and to having our stuff out of storage. Fingers crossed that we'll sell our place by March and be able to settle somewhere a bit more permanently soon.

I was meditating at church this morning about how many things there are in my life to be thankful for. It is easy to let Thanksgiving go by without taking the time to pause and reflect on the many blessings I overlook every day. Megan gently reminded me a couple of weeks ago that when I'm stressed out I often forget to remember to articulate the things in my life that are positive...and there are so many (the first being my wise and loving wife).

Over the past couple of weeks I have reconnected with two friends from the past (one from high school, and one from my time in San Francisco), which has been a huge gain towards feeling 'settled' in Denver. Our friends Julie and Maclain have been a source of constant support and laughter. I am daily grateful for the amazing people I work with. Of course, one of the biggest blessings of living in Denver is that we have so much family around us (and the generosity of parents who let us use their mountain home for R&R). I'm also very thankful for Maclain Looper's chocolate blueberry bread pudding with amaretto cream sauce. That was a highlight of the weekend.

And right this second I'm extremely grateful that I can start this week rested and a little more at ease, even if my pants are slightly tighter around the waist.

Transitions

2010-10-24T11:09:00.000-07:00

I'm finding it hard to discipline myself to sit down and write. I have had several ideas for blog topics over the past couple of weeks, but by the time I have time, pretty much all I have the energy for is sleep.

Transitions are HARD. They are for me at least. Living in a new city, driving everywhere after 12 years of relying on public transportation, working a new job (one that has proven to be extremely challenging) and waiting for our NYC apt to sell so that we can 'settle' somewhere a bit more permanently....all these things seem to be taking their toll. I'll admit that lately poor Megan gets to spend most weekends with Oscar the Grouch.

But I am grateful for the silver linings. Our gracious host, my aunt Kathy, has saved us a lot of money and provided some INCREDIBLE meals...not to mention a lot of laughs. To not have been forced to find a temporary apartment on top of all of the other transitions with this move was a remarkable blessing. And even though I do still have weekly doubts about my career path, I realize how huge of a deal it was to have snagged a well paying job, where I get to work with really cool people, while still living in New York. I also have some incredibly supportive in-laws... who more than showed their grit when they helped us unpack our moving truck, and then pack and unpack it again when we realized the advertising for our rental facility had stretched the truth (aka misrepresented) the size of the storage unit we rented and we needed to upgrade it. They have also been gracious hosts and have allowed us to stay in their gorgeous Frisco mountain house over several weekends.

So it isn't all bad. But it is hard. Denver is not home to me yet. It may not be for awhile. I don't miss New York City, but I do miss the life and routine that seemed to 'work' there without much effort. The truth is I am working far more hours in a more stressful job for far less pay. I'm still learning the ropes at KIPP, without much guidance. Many days I feel like I'm treading water, as though my new life is defined solely by daily stress levels. But I know this is all part of transition. And I know that pain is a part of growth. Fortunately, I have also discovered that taking a deep breath while looking at the mountains helps one gain perspective tremendously.

I also gain perspective when I think about another unit in our family. Surely the transition we're undergoing is minuscule to that of my brother and sister in law, who welcomed our adorable new niece Molly into the world this summer. They're experiencing a whole new set of transitions of their own...and I am so amazed at how well they seem to be doing! We can't wait to see them all at Christmas.

I'm going to need to toughen up before we get serious about parenthood.

COLORAD*O !!!!!

2010-10-05T20:48:00.000-07:00

As promised to Megan (Mills), Schwabe, and whoever else was participating in the conversation (I can't remember with 100% accuracy as I was a wee bit drunk at the time), I am officially relaunching my blog. Thoughts on the new format??

Just in case you were wondering, I love the Rocky Mountains. I also love bright yellow aspen trees when their stark white bark contrasts with a clear blue sky. And don't get me started on the Colorado sunsets. Yes. These are are a few of the wonderful new things in my life that have replaced Harlem's garbage filled gutters, NYC rats, and eardrum bursting subway screeching noises. I'm going to try and attach pictures to make you jealous (first time to post pics):

Not bad, right? OK, ok, I'll admit I miss Jake, Corinne, Jon, and my friends tremendously. I miss All Angel's Church. I miss the magic and charm of the Big Apple (well, not quite yet on that third one, but I'm sure I will soon).

And if I'm truly honest I have to admit that Colorado isn't all roses. I've replaced the crowded subway cars with a long-ish morning commute. And I haven't driven regularly since I was in high school. And heavy traffic scares me. (although 'heavy' is relative -- are we talking NYC heavy or Mumbai heavy? Because Denver traffic is neither. And I should mention that I get to drive our fun little prius.)

Well, driving everywhere is the only bad thing I can think of right now so perhaps Colorado IS mostly roses. Or at least aspens.

Now that I'm sitting down to write I am realizing I have about a million things to process from the last 2 months: our AWESOME friends and family who helped us pack and load our big yellow moving truck, our drive across the country in said truck, my new job with KIPP Colorado (go see the documentary Waiting For Superman, which features a KIPP L.A. school), living close to family, the tremendous generosity of my Aunt Kathy, the additional weight I've gained from driving everywhere instead of walking. So many things. So I'll have to blog more frequently I suppose.

But for now, at least I'm starting. A new start. In a new state. With a new blog template. More to come. Good night, and I'll leave you with this:

Happy (late) Birthday, Schwabe!

2010-05-06T08:29:00.000-07:00

Well, really, happy (late) birthday Boka. But I'll always think of you as Schwabe Boka, which I believe you and Geoff have both affirmed is OK.

At a birthday dinner last night, largely due to a significant amount of Sangria (it deserves a capital S,) I promised to dust off my blog. So here it is. Unfortunately I don't have any Pledge with me at work so it won't be the most profound post ever. However, I was inspired by the small crew together last night and how much my longest standing circle of NYC friends has changed since I first met them.

Who would have thought in 2001 that by 2010:
*Iott would live in L.A. but be doing business in NY
*Hale would be married, have a beautiful daughter, and be a television and movie star
*Haragan would be getting an MA in counseling in Tejas
*Schwabe, Radcliffe, O'Grady, Harvey, Buck, Wilkerson and many others would be married. Mostly due to Haven and eHarmony.
*Walla would have starred in just about every major production of Fiddler on the Roof and be settling in Bklyn
*Schwabe Boka would have cast some of the biggest shows on Broadway
*The Hunts would have a new baby
*I would be preparing to move to the mountains with the woman of my dreams
*And, even though he wasn't here in 2001, Gire would be in the Congo.

Wow.

What a privilege it has been to know and walk beside so many amazing, talented, loving, inspiring, and Godly folks. It has been a gift.

So Kate, thanks for giving ME a gift on your birthday.

Good day, Sunshine!

2009-04-30T06:05:00.000-07:00

Some days you just want to sock a person right in the kisser (One of these days, Alice...)

But let me back up.

Every morning that I am late to work (most mornings) I encounter a stampede of smartly dressed New Yorkers entering the subway station turnstiles that I need to exit. These people, with their perfectly styled or still wet hair, carry their coffees, their purses, their newspapers and their brief cases, and none of them, not a single one, smiles. (Truthfully, I don't smile either. What New Yorker smiles on the way to work in the morning??)

Over the years confronting the daily stampede has taught me a couple of tricks about how to get out of the subway station when you're one of the salmon swimming upstream (that is two, count em, TWO animal references in one sentence folks). One trick when you're trudging up the stairs is to square your shoulders, stay by the rail on the right, and most importantly, LOOK UP. When you look ahead and stare at the people coming down the stairs 98% of the time they try to step aside and make room. I don't know why this works but it does.

The other trick is that if you see an open turnstile, RUN to it. I have stood staring for what felt like an eternity (but was probably more like 3-4 seconds) walking up and down the turnstiles, waiting for someone to let me out. But they don't. No person in seven and a half years has ever been just about to swipe their card when they saw me standing there, waiting with my sad face trying to get out, and stepped aside to let me out. Not one person.

Every now and then I exit a turnstile that I think is open when it really isn't. It is only half open. Meaning someone is preparing to swipe their card and enter but they're a little slow and I exit before they swipe. To put it not so nicely: I'm cutting in line. But I'm cutting in a line that no one would let me get into (out of?) otherwise. So it's justified. Isn't it?

Because I consider myself a nice person most of the time, I don't enjoy exiting this way. I do feel like I'm cutting. And if I were the person trying to get in, I'd be mad at the other me that was cutting to get out. Some days I even whimper a, 'sorry' when I cut. But then I get angry and think that I shouldn't have to apologize...someone should be nice and let me out!

Today was a typically crowded day. I walked past one... two... three turnstiles with a constant flow of people entering, each with a long line behind. No chance of getting out. Then I saw a turnstile that had an opening and I thought, "I can get out of that one...she's still pulling out her MetroCard!" and I quickly walked through. And all of a sudden I thought I heard something and then I tripped. I caught myself so that I didn't fall down all the way. Which would have been embarrassing because there were a LOT of people around me. A little confused, I turned to look around, and I saw that the woman who I passed still had her foot cocked out, deliberately, to trip me. She swiped her card, entered through the turnstile, turned back to stare at me, and gave me a snotty sneer. I ran at her but started laughing, because I was shocked, and then yelled, "Bitch!" (I realize this was neither nice nor Christianly of me). It was an odd sensation. I was confused, laughing, and wanting to grab her and hurt her and yet knowing this was wrong and that I couldn't...all at the same time.

Reeling from what had just happened, I started walking towards the crowded exit. I glanced to the side and through the gate I saw the awful dragon lady snarky bitch that tripped me. She was walking down another set of stairs to the express train. I noticed she was probably around my age and that she was attractive and that she didn't look like an awful dragon lady snarky bitch. Then I noticed that she was staring back and me and saying something.

Still shocked and angry and laughing, I raised my arms up in the air and shrugged my shoulders and gave my best, "What the...?" expression because I was speechless and that was the best I could come up with in the moment. I leaned in closer and realized that she was saying, repeatedly, "You're ugly! You're ugly!" Then she said, "Nice nose! Your nose is ugly!" And then she disappeared down the stairs.

She WAS an awful dragon lady snarky bitch.

As I turned, squared my shoulders, and started walking up the last set of stairs, I noticed that I was still shocked, still laughing, still angry, but now also a little insecure about my nose.

Then I remembered something that made me feel better. Several years ago an actor friend of mine who may or may not be named David Douglass had surgery on his nose to fix a deviated septum. However, in the process of this surgery the appearance of his nose changed slightly (on purpose). When I spoke with him about his surgery I told him I'd often thought about whether the same surgery would be good for me. I meant the surgery to fix a deviated septum, not the other thing he had done. However, I think he misunderstood and said, "No! You have a perfect nose! You should never change it!"

True story. All of it. So take that you sad, mean, snarky lady who needs a good kick in the kiester! David Douglass thinks my nose is perfect. And my wife doesn't think I'm ugly. So there.

And also, peace be with you.

Tis the season

2009-04-21T11:14:00.001-07:00

I thought it may be time for a new post because it has been well over two years since this darn blog has been updated.

Also, I'm determined to outblog S. Haragan, or my name isn't Stanley Czuchlowski.

An update of the past couple of years:
-Bought an apt
-Got married (!)
-Job - same
-Haircut - same
-Acting - did a play and some goofy commercials, but the highlight was a magic video with the Amazing Huck
-Joined Facebook but am resisting the Tweet
-I got a new driver's license and I have a beard in the photo (the beard was short lived.) There are hologram-like graphics on the license that line up perfectly with my face so that when you turn it the graphic goes across my mouth and makes me look like the Joker.
-I bought some new socks and underwear. The socks got holes right away (they were from an outlet store) but I sewed them up.
-I learned how to snorkle on Johnny Depp's Island in the Bahamas. He didn't know I was there and I didn't know it was his island.
-I'm learning how to ski. I'm not very good at it.
-I repainted our kitchen.
-I was diagnosed with hereditary dermatitis (eczyma). That is fancy talk for, "my legs is itchy."
-I went bowling for the first time in Port Authority. It's dark in there which makes it hard to line up the ball with the arrows. (this fact, while true, is also a set up for a Russell Sharman joke)
-It turns out I like to cuddle, and since being married, I am almost never on time for work in the morning.
-Marriage has made me happier in life. Even though it came along with worse allergies and the aforementioned skin issues. I'm lucky.

That's all for now. To all of my legions of fans, I have two words, "Stay cool."

Warmest regards,
Stanley

Oh, the pressure

2006-12-05T12:53:00.000-08:00

Part of the reason I haven’t written for this blog in a long time is that I feel pressure to write something eloquent and/or funny. And most of the time I don’t feel eloquent or funny. Most of the time I feel very serious and like I have nothing important to say. Or I think everything I have to say is important. And that cancels out anything from actually BEING important. It’s a mind scramble, really.

So, in rebellion, I’m posting a very serious entry today. This is serious. Because there is no hiding the fact that I’m a very serious person. Seriously. It isn’t all fun and games in my life. My life is filled with serious stuff. Serious and important stuff. Serious and important and top secret stuff.

There are little children starving around the world today. (See how serious I can be?)

Also, I have to return the stools I bought for the counter in my apartment since I ordered the wrong height. And they’re heavy and I don’t have a car and have to get them all the way to Target or pay a LOT of money to have UPS pick them up. See? Serious.

I have almost no clean underwear and I have NO IDEA when I’m going to have the time to do laundry. The dilemma!

So chew on those things today folks. Or Shannon. Chew on those things Shannon. And Megan. Because I think you are the only two people who read this blog.

metro what?

2006-06-19T12:08:00.000-07:00

Tonight my girlfriend and I are going to a fancy schmantzy New York City red carpet movie premiere. There will be a couple of celebrities and far too many photographers present. I paid a lot of money for our two tickets. And today I feel ashamed for a couple of reasons.

The first reason is the obvious guilt over being so shallow that I paid a large sum of money to eat popcorn with celebrities. Fortunately, the tickets were bought at a silent auction that benefits an organization that I like. However, I did not buy the tickets because I wanted to support the organization. I bought the tickets because I am shallow.

The second reason I feel shame is much more difficult to confess. I'll just say it. I have been so obsessed over what to wear over this damned event that I do not deserve to keep my penis.

My obsession has come in stages. At first it was 'cute giggly little girl' stage. I was excited about the prospect of buying really cool clothes. You know what I mean; the clothes you see celebrities wearing in magazines that you are too self conscious (and too practical) to buy for yourself. In this case: hipster expensive jeans, funky shoes, casual blazer and colored ironic t-shirt to wear underneath.

However, once I started shopping, the cute stage gave way to something much more scary. I immediately slipped into 'obsessive and paranoid teenage girl' phase. I could not find anything I wanted. I went to 8 stores in a multi-hour day of shopping with my saintly girlfriend who never once made fun of me. And I could not find a blazer. Where are all the blazers?? I see them all the time at H & M! Finally I purchased the one blazer I could find, but I immediately panicked about it. Was it the right kind of blazer to go with funky jeans? Was it the right color? Did I pay too much? Should I have spent more money and got a better one?

After sitting on it a few days, I started to regress into 'whinny/crabby self-obsessed pre-teen girl' phase. Did I even like the jacket? Where can I find the right colored t-shirt to go with it? Nothing matches! Is my potbelly too big? It IS too big! I'm TOTALLY going on a diet. Shut up! I'm not eating today. I have to find a tight t-shirt or the jacket won't look good. I'm going for a long run today. It's hopeless! I'm ugly. Should I stuff my bra?

When my girlfriend had to go out of town, I even consulted one of my guy friends and asked him to shop with me. He said yes, because he understands my pain. Or at least pretends to. We ended up emailing each other about clothing all week. We were both so embarrassed about this fact that we referred to each other as 'dude' multiple times in each email to remind ourselves that we are not gay.

And then finally, at church yesterday, I re-centered and realized how ridiculously materialistic and obsessive I have been. I decided to return the jacket, because I never liked it and would have never worn it again after tonight. In it's place I bought a nice, practical shirt that I will wear again, for $20 less.

However, in full disclosure, I did stare at my buddy's ass with him while we tried to decide whether or not he should buy a particularly expensive pair of jeans. ...It is about progress folks, not perfection.

Even so, after the premiere tonight I plan to drink three beers and then make out with my hot girlfriend for a little bit. Never hurts.

blog name

2006-06-07T09:01:00.000-07:00

To copycat my friend Shannon, (which is how this blog initially came into existence) I thought I'd comment on my blog's name. It comes from a 'you had to be there' moment. I state this only so that your expectations for hilariosity (or mere chortleosity) will be, well, lessened.

Just for sheets and giggles, let's play choose your own adventure. The history of farmer pants (he's in my genes!) is as follows:

a) an awkward night of camping, ala brokeback mountain, while interning in san francisco during the summer between my freshman and sophomore years in college

b) while visiting my grandparents in nebraska last summer, i awoke one morning to find that i had misplaced my new $79 pair of uniquely dark washed/strategically shredded Lucky jeans. only to discover that my grandfather, who rises at 4:30 to perform his daily farm chores, had mistakenly pulled my jeans from the dryer when he dressed that morning. and then later in the day returned with fresh pig poo 'dingling' from his (my) pant legs

c) while visiting my friends 'the charming sharmans' in costa rica last summer, i characteristically made a non-segue comment about feeling at peace in the country by stating, "there is a farmer in my genes." which was followed by howling laughter and cheryl sharman exclaiming, "you said there was a little farmer man in your pants!"

d) an inexplicable conversation about the skills listed at the bottom of my own personal "superhero/alter ego" resume

e) having eaten quickly at mcdonald's one clear day in virgina last fall, and then going for a light jog on a wilderness path with my brother, i subsequently realized that i had "gambled and lost"

f) your own funnier story that i will steal and use as my own

Lunchkin Land

2006-02-28T11:16:00.000-08:00

I have been eating lunch every day with first graders in a hot little cafeteria that cannot contain the sound of 45 children. There are two badly painted life-size portraits of ancient presidents on the wall. One of the presidents is George Washington and the other is someone I should know but don't. Each day the boys walk in, or rather, flop in, mostly quiet and in some semblance of a line. They all have button down shirts in various states of being tucked in or not, and ties that hang messily around their necks and chests and sometimes knees. Some of the boys have sleepy eyes and bedhead hair. Some are bouncing with energy. One or two of the boys proudly march in everyday with their arms straight in the air and their fingers flashing a peace sign. This is the quiet signal.

I am not a teacher. I work in the business office as an accountant. But this year the school employed fewer coaches and needed adult bodies to serve lunch. I was asked to help. I have trouble saying no. Unfortunately, because first graders are still guided by unencumbered intuition, the boys discovered immediately that I am an imposter.

As fate would have it, the most annoying boy at my table is seated directly on my left. He does not eat, he does not listen, and he does not like me. He doesn't even fear me. Today I told him at least seven hundred and fourteen times to put away the green pencil he was playing with. It has a soccer ball eraser top. He would pretend to put it in his pocket for a few minutes. And then the soccer ball eraser would mysteriously reappear, tapping on something, or rolling on the floor. I threatened to take the pencil away if I saw it again. And then when I saw it again I threatened to take it away if I saw it again. This happened many times. At one point the boy got up, for the third time I must add, to go to the bathroom without asking. I told him he couldn't go. He stood behind my chair and stared me down. I told him he needed to sit. He replied that he didn't have to sit. I said, "yes you do" with my fake military voice. He squinted his eyes, after he had dramatically rolled them at me, and sarcastically spat out, "why?" This stumped me. So I squinted my eyes back, and fumbled out incoherently, "Because that's the rules we have" or something similar with poor grammar that trailed off into meaninglessness.

The boy on my right is small, polite, cute and wears nerdy classes. His shirt is always tucked in, and his tie is always on straight. He is missing a front tooth. The first two days of lunch he started counting from the moment he sat down until the end of the lunch period. He got into the thousands so I'm pretty sure he one, two, skipped a few. Thousand. But nonetheless, he impressed the other boys at the table and both days they cried out in amazement, "you're the best counter in the whole school, Patrick!" To which he smiled his sheepish, toothless smile.

There is one boy at my table who may be retarded. When words are spoken to him I can count a solid 7 seconds before he responds. And his response is generally only a nod of some sort. I like him. He eats more than I do. And he almost always asks for a third serving. One of the other boys, who is prissy and has a devilish grin and a lot of energy, sits right next to the possibly retarded boy. The devilish boy doesn't obey anything I say, but his disobedience is generally of the misdemeanor type. So I don't waste the energy to correct him. On the first day of lunch he kept saying to me, "Yes Mr./Mrs." This made the retarded boy laugh. Now he generally calls me Mr. O’Gravy. (My name is O’Grady). However, today I was addressed as “your highness” with a smart ass bow and subsequent snicker. This landed him a seat right next to his teacher.

My favorite boy sits the farthest away. The first day of lunch he talked to me for the entire lunch period. Regardless of whether or not someone else was talking to me. But because he sits at the end of the table, and because he has a quiet, soft, high pitched first-grader voice, I can't ever hear a word he's saying. So every now and then I nod my head and smile at him when he's talking and he smiles back. He gets up all of the time without asking to go to the bathroom, but I'm pretty sure he's really going to the bathroom. So I let it slide. The first week of lunch I kept calling him Robert. But his name is Thomas. So one day he smiled, hit his hand on his head, rolled his eyes and said in his high pitched voice, "not again!" Now I try and remember to call him Thomas.

I have another boy who sits at my table who always talks very loudly. He sometimes has so much energy that he puts up his fists in the air and shakes his body until his face turns red. Like the other things I don’t know how to handle at lunch, I pretend I don’t notice this behavior. I think this boy has Asperger’s Syndrome. He is incredibly intelligent and obsessed with monster movies. One day he sang “The Monster Mash” throughout the entire lunch. He often quotes movie lines and other movie trivia that go far beyond my film knowledgebase, which is quite extensive in its own right. On any given day he will mention so and so from Hitchcock’s first film that was released on this or that date. Because I don’t know better I assume he is correct. Once I asked him if he was going to be a film director when he grows up and he lost it. He stared me down, pursed his lips together, and with more drama than a Susan Lucci character on daytime television, slowly articulated, “I’m not going to be a movie director when I grow up, I AM a movie director now!” I immediately apologized for my foolishness. And then I laughed at him.

There is another boy, Andrew, who talks like he is 4. This is annoying, because he is 7. He doesn’t talk really, he more just barks. Like a puppy. An annoying puppy. One day last quarter I had had all the barky yelpy sounds I could handle, and I snapped. And when I snap, sometimes I use fake teacher speak that I have picked up, which is embarrassing. I yelled, “Andrew! What is with all the silliness today!?” (Silliness is the teacher speak word). He immediately calmed down, looked at the floor, sighed, and then said, while still staring at the floor, “I don’t know. I guess it’s because I got extra sleep last night.”

I am learning a lot about first grade food preferences. Some boys eat everything. Some boys eat nothing except bread. Some boys wait and choose only what they see the boys they look up to eating. No one likes salad. No one likes fruit for dessert. They all want only the juice the fruit sits in when we have fruit for dessert. And the most interesting discovery is that lime green Jello is heroin. I have to count every single square and weigh it on the spoon, to make sure everyone gets an equal portion. And I have to dish out every last sliver. If I don’t do these things, the boys get junkie eyes. And I'm telling you, if you want to know scary, just look at the eyes of a first grader with a lime green Jello junkie craving.

Today my table seemed like something out of Lord of the Flies. The boys finished their lunch very quickly. This means there was dead time until lunch finished. This means chaos. By the end of the period I was tired of hearing my own voice, and since the boys don't listen to me anyway I stopped trying to make them behave. Eventually their teacher, who sits at the next table, came over and quelled the chaos. She did it quickly with grace and authority and power that I fear I will never possess. I was embarrassed. But I figure I'm volunteering in this lunch capacity, so it isn't like they can fire me.

trial blog

2006-02-24T10:39:00.000-08:00

the only purpose of this blog is to see what my cheesey template looks like.

go raiders.