Taking what I want

In my 10.5 months of life I have learned that if I want something I have to go and get it. Or I have to whine and complain until somebody else gets it for me. And I am real good at whining. But I've been working on going after things on my own. Last week I highlighted my attempt to get the Wall Street Journal and az anyam's computer.

This time I tried to climb Mount Papi to get his camera, but I just couldn't climb that high. I think he foresaw this day coming (ie, the day his 10.5 month old son tried to take his camera by climbing up his belly) and prepared for it for years by consuming massive amounts of adult beverage.

http://picasaweb.google.com/MatthewStrada/Export/photo#5058929440023889938

A man needs a castle

He needs a sanctuary. A castle. A place to get away from it all. A place to rest his weary bones after long days doing what he does. I guess young men (10 month olds, for example) aren't afforded the same respite.



I thought I had the perfect retreat scoped out. I was chillin like a villain in there trying to read my paper and maybe surf the internet when az anyam barged in. C'est la Vie.

http://picasaweb.google.com/MatthewStrada/Export/photo#5057733055408752530

Spring has sprung

It might be spring, but I am so ready for summer.

I'm looking forward to getting out on the beach. Except I have a feeling I won't like the texture of the sand. And I won't like the hot sun. And I won't like the sun in my eyes. And I don't know if I'll like the waves. OK, so I'm not that excited about going out on the beach, but I'm totally psyched about my beach outfits.

Just because my name is Strada

Does not mean I am Italian. The fact that when I get excited I talk with my hands....

That is a gross stereotype of Italians. But it's true. So maybe there is a bit of Italian in me.

http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=5362566212346641879&hl=en

Sleep. Oh, sleep. Why have you forsaken me?

I mentioned two substantial changes in my life last week:

1. I was sleeping really well.
2. I had reached a whole new level of understanding of the world and was able to pull myself up to observe it.

Unfortunately, those two things go together like Bill and Hillary. Two may enter, but only one will leave. There can be only one highlander. You get the idea - one of the two was going to get messed up. So of course the sleep thing got all ongepotchket.

Generally when it's time to go to sleep, I decide that I'd rather stand in my crib and scream. I can stand in my crib, but I don't quite have the getting-down-from-a-standing-position-thing down yet. So I stand and scream and scream and yodel and scream. Either az anyam or az apam will come in and calm me down and then lay me back in bed. And then I'll stand and scream and scream and yodel and scream. And then my parents will come back in and pull some Jedi mind tricks to get me to fall asleep.

Once I'm asleep, I'm disco. It's just getting there that's an issue.

How do you get to Carnegie Hall?

I had a pretty spectacular day on Saturday. I went to see the godfather (Uncle Piki Bacsi) sing at Carnegie Hall. Well, I went to New York City so the rest of the family could see uncle Piki Bacsi at Carnegie Hall.


I really enjoyed seeing my cosmopolitan, Canadian family who flew into town for lunch and the concert. But what I love best about coming into the city is the food. We all loved the bread at the lovely Italian place we lunched.



Of course, my silly parents bring me to a lovely Italian restaurant and then expect me to eat pureed beef with pureed sweet potato? Fuhgetaboutit. Although Mama and Papa tried to feed me that stuff, really, fuhgetaboutit. Especially after they gave me some of the bread.

Then I was given some steamed broccoli and all was well in the world. I couldn't even be bothered to acknowledge the paparazzi as they were snapping pictures of me.

While the rest of the family went to the performance, Auntie Shirley, Uncle John and I went for a walk around the city. From what I hear Uncle Piki Bacsi just needs to work on his effemination to get in better with the xenophobic judges who could not handle it if a Canadian won the competition. He sounded fantastic - and that comes from no less of an authority on singing than az apam.

But back to the food in the city. The absolute highlight of my day in the city had to be when Auntie Shirley gave me a chomp of her popsicle. It was a red, white and blue frozen sensation. I generally don't like cold food and I made the same face I do whenever I eat something a little funny, but as soon as I tasted it I was ready for more.