Pizzeria Bianco

Every man eventually finds himself at a crossroads in life when he's forced to answer tough questions, the answers for which may forever alter his future: Whom should I marry? Where should I go to law school? Where should I go after law school? Should I write Santa that threatening letter to try to force him to give me the presents I really want this year?

I faced one such crossroads this weekend: Should I spend two hours of a Friday afternoon in late May waiting in the hot Phoenix sun for what many claim is the best pizza in the country?


A few weeks ago I ran across an article on MSN purporting to list the best pizza places in the United States. Pizzeria Bianco, in downtown Phoenix, made the list. When I learned a few days later that some of my siblings planned to spend a weekend in Phoenix catching a few baseball games, it didn't take long to make the connection. The next thing I knew I had invited myself to tag along and was dropping not-so-subtle hints on where I thought we should eat.


Yet there were some hurdles. Pizzeria Bianco only takes reservations for parties of 6-10, and even then, only one reservation per day. The online local reviews further made it clear that the place is tiny, and you have to wait at least an hour and a half ahead of opening [it's open Tues-Sat 5-10 p.m.] to have much hope of getting in. I wasn't sure my brothers would be up for the wait.


They were (and they didn't even know I was paying yet).


Last Friday we set about heading to Pizzeria Bianco at 2:30 p.m. We found the place and parked nearby, finding our place in line just after 3 p.m. By the time we got there, we were fourth in line. Mercifully, there was at least a canopy set up to shield us from the sun. Those ahead of us in line assured us that the pizza would be worth the wait.

[3:21 p.m.]

As we got closer to 5 p.m., the line grew.

[4:15 p.m.]

And grew.

[4:15 p.m. – The other part of the line]

And grew.

[5:02 p.m. – Now That's a Man in a Confident Mustache!]

And grew.

The place opened just after 5 p.m., and, being fourth in line, we were a few of the fortunate ones who got in at opening. [There were people who had been waiting well over an hour that had to content themselves with placing their names on a waiting list.]

Once we were seated, the excitement built up over the course of that two-hour wait had us giddy. The restaurant itself was quaint, with a single wood-fired oven, and apparently only one person, Chris Bianco himself, actually baking the pizzas.

The menu at Pizzeria Bianco is simple.* There are six pizza offerings:

Pizza
MARGHERITA - Tomato Sauce, Fresh Mozzarella, Basil
MARINARA - Tomato Sauce, Oregano, Garlic (No Cheese)
ROSA - Red Onion, Parmigiano Reggiano, Rosemary, AZ Pistachios
SONNY BOY - Tomato Sauce, Fresh Mozzarella, Salami, Gaeta Olives
BIANCOVERDE - Fresh Mozzarella, Parmigiano Reggiano, Ricotta, Arugula
WISEGUY - Wood Roasted Onion, House Smoked Mozzarella, Fennel Sausage

When our waiter came by to take drink orders, I felt a bit sheepish when we all ordered waters – almost as though we were letting the waiter down.

I was also a little sheepish because of the order we were about to place, since there were so many hungry people and only one guy cooking the pizzas. Not sure when, if ever, we'd be back for a second round of sampling, when the waiter came back to take our orders, I said, making every effort not to flinch: "We'll have one of each [of the pizzas], except for the Marinara. Oh, and we'll have two of the Pizza Margherita."

I waited for him to bristle at the size of the order, but he didn't bat an eye.

Perhaps because we didn't order any appetizers or salads, our pizzas were first out of the oven. They looked beautiful.

When he set the pizzas before us, the waiter's only instructions were: "Eat the Rosa and the Bianco Verde first. After that, eat the rest."

[Bianco Verde]

The Bianco Verde was the first pizza I tried, and probably my favorite. I would not say that it, or any of the pizzas for that matter, exactly "melted in my mouth", but it was really, really good. I loved the way the cheese almost seemed to melt into the crust (rather than just on it), and the Arugula was a great touch.

[Rosa]

If the Bianco Verde wasn't my favorite, then the Rosa certainly was. The Parmigiano Reggiano – and maybe the red onions too -- gave this pizza a playful tang. The pistachios were fun, the pizza was too hot for me to discern much flavor from them.

[Margherita]

I liked the Margherita, but I wasn't blown away by it. Maybe my memories of the pizza Margherita at Grimaldi's have expanded over the years, but on the first slice, this pizza tasted comparatively ordinary. When I went back to it later for a second slice, it tasted much better than the first. It's left me wanting to try the Grimaldi's version again and compare.

[Wiseguy]

The Wiseguy was my least favorite of the five. Any subtleties in the fennel sausage or the house smoked mozzarella were lost on me. It was good pizza, but I wouldn't get it again when offered the choice of any of the other five. Ironically, this is the pizza the MSN article suggests you start with.

[Sonny Boy]

The salami on the Sonny Boy was crispier than your standard pepperoni. The Gaeta olives were nice. This was a good pizza, though not nearly as memorable as the Bianco Verde and the Rosa, or even the Margherita the 2^nd time around.

Having now visited Pizzeria Bianco and tasted all it has to offer, two questions that need answering. I can only really speak to one.

1.  Is it the best pizza in the country?

 

I don't know. It might be. It's the best I've had (at least until I taste Grimaldi's Margherita again).

2.  Is it worth the two hour wait?

 

Definitely at least once. Probably twice. It's the kind of place I'd offer to take out-of-town guests if I lived in the Phoenix area. What was interesting was how many regulars I was in line with – people who seem to routinely wait the two hours to get their slice(s) of heaven. The bell hop and waiters greeted them warmly by their first names and they caught up with each other on the highlights of the past few weeks. I'm not sure I could be one of those people. I'm the guy who is usually contented with Little Caesar's (whose $5 large pepperoni are always "Hot and Ready"), and blissfully happy with a $10 Costco combo pizza. When it comes down to it, it would have to be a rare or special occasion indeed that, on any given night, would have me saying "No" to a $10 Costco pizza that I could have in the next 15 minutes, to instead have the promise of Pizzeria Bianco if only I'm willing to wait out the next two hours in the hot Phoenix sun.

* I'm sure it's not been lost on many of you that menu simplicity often seems to be one of the first signs of great food (besides, of course, having to wait outside for two hours before opening just to get a seat). The confidence manifest in such simplicity speaks volumes.

A Long December

Nearly six months ago now as I set about mapping my New Year's Resolutions, I decided to be bold: Though I'd managed only a handful of postings in 2009, I resolved to blog weekly here in the coming year.

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Now here we are nearing June, and I haven't got a word or a picture to my name.

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Back when I started this blog in 2005, there was no Facebook (at least that I was aware of) that offered the chance for pithy quips to instantly update my connected friends on all of my comings and goings. Blogging itself was still relatively novel (though en vogue enough that I felt some of the "you don't want to make it look like you're following the crowd even though you are" internal resistance). As I've noted before, I started this blog then because I wanted to connect better with family and friends, and because I wanted the challenge of exposing some of my thoughts and writings in a public, somewhat permanent, medium. Facebook seems to satisfy most of the former now, though, and lately I've had so much less energy or interest in the latter.

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Additionally, the fact that my posts have grown more sparse in recent years seems to be indicative of a few things. For one, I've felt like I've been running out of material. After all, there's only so much traction one can get out of a Peanut M&M, sugar cookie, Breyer's ice cream, Oreo cookie, donut, and half-priced holiday candy fetish. There seems to be less need, too, for simply posting pictures and relating the family's most recent silliness. Maybe not, though.

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For those thoughts and ideas that have stretched beyond the trivial or self-depricating, I've also noticed growing increasingly more cautious about sharing them in this setting.

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Maybe it's not just this setting, though. Maybe those thoughts and ideas I might have otherwise been inclined to share over the years have themselves become more cautious. And there isn't much traction or material in a cautious approach to the world, either.

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Maybe experience has just made me more tentative.

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Whatever the case may be, I'm not about to abandon this blog. I am, after all, just getting around to starting my New Year's Resolutions. I will be more diligent here, and we'll see where that leads. Whether that diligence gives way to more devoted thoughts on donuts, cinnamon rolls, and agonizing weight gain, or whether perhaps it leads something more dangerous, who can tell? I can assure you, however, that it will give way to something more than the silence of these past six months.

Ninth Annual Clark Family Milkshake Making Contest

Amid all of the candy canes and sugar cookies, we held the Ninth Annual Clark Family Milkshake Making Contest today. Despite a record 17 entrants, and a field of milkshakes as elaborate and innovative as any we've ever seen, the final standings had some familiar faces with Michelle winning her third consecutive milkshake title with a key lime pie shake. Bryan took home second place with a coconut cream pie milkshake, finishing only a point behind Michelle in the standings. Matt, placing for the first time, took home third place with his milkshake "Sludge", a chocolate peanut butter concoction. My shake, Atomic Fireball, did not place, though it did take home the coveted creativity award this year.

Here's a rundown of the milkshakes:

• "Peppermint" by Leanne – Leanne's vanilla-based shake with crush candy canes. Leanne did not talk to reporters after the judges announced the final standings.
• "Chocolate Dream" – Alisha's chocolate-based shake with Oreos, chocolate chips, chocolate syrup, and chocolate sprinkles. The first milkshake to actually reach the judges, they complained it wasn't thick enough.
• "Sludge" – Matt's chocolate-based peanut butter, condensed milk, and Oreo shake. Matt only decided on the shake when his name was called to throw it together. The name seemed to take even less thought. Still, he didn't seem surprised when the judges called his name for 3^rd place, wondering openly why he didn't place higher. The shake was only two points shy of the first place shake, "Key Lime Pie."
• "Key Lime Pie" – Michelle's winning milkshake, a vanilla-based shake boasting condensed milk, lime juice, lime zest, heavy cream, and garnished with a dollop of whipped cream, toasted coconut, and another dash of lime zest. Michelle claims she only came up with the idea the night before, and actually apologized to the family when her name was announced. [Family members actually booed her as she approached to reclaim the trophy. She has now officially become the New York Yankees of the milkshake world.] Her husband, though smarting from not winning himself, is excited the trophy is again headed to San Diego.
• "P.OO.CH Shake" – The title of Leslie's vanilla-based shake stood for peanut butter, Oreos, and chocolate chips. The shake scored well on taste, but apparently wasn't thick enough for the judges' tastes to be able to place.
• "Scottish Delight" – Dad's vanilla based shake with butterscotch (hence the "Scotchish" theme). The shake scored well in creativity.
• "Let Them Eat Cake" – Sarah's vanilla-based shake included Funfetti cake batter, vanilla extract, and chocolate chips. The judges lauded her milkshake, though apparently found it too runny. The shake was runner up for the creativity award, losing out because one of the judges noted Coldstone Creamery has a similar offering.
• "The Great Chocolate Shake" – Jared's second milkshake entry had a chocolate base and included Oreos, a candy cane, chocolate syrup, coconut, and strawberries (I had to stop him at that). Jared's milkshake finished second in the new children's category.
• "Not Your Typical Cookies N' Cream" – Nichole's vanilla-based shake had melted butter, Oreo crumbs, and peppermint extract. A solid entry, though eerily similar to previous shakes she's submitted.
• "Atomic Fireball" – My vanilla-based shake included several drops of Cinnamon Bark Essential Oil and red food coloring. I submitted it knowing it could not win, but feeling duty bound to add it to the pantheon of memorable milkshakes. [Evenso, some laudatory comments from fellow participants managed to get my hopes up for the top prize.] The shake looked and tasted like an Atomic Fireball, though I couldn't get the color a deep enough red, nor could I get the cinnamon "hot" enough. The creativity prize is the first award any milkshake of mine has taken home in the last 6 years.
• "Coconut Cream Pie" – Bryan's vanilla-based milkshake had coconut pudding, toasted coconut, and dulce de leche. Bryan is a perennial top finisher, though an LDS mission to Uruguay kept him out of the last contest. He was magnanimous in defeat, despite losing to Michelle by only a point. The mission seems to have softened him in that regard.
• "Strawberry Peachy Surprise" – James' vanilla-based milkshake boasted frozen strawberries and peaches. A solid entry for James' first ever entry (and his first milkshake contest, for that matter). The judges couldn't seem to taste much peach.
• "Fruit Kind" – Emily's chocolate-based shake had everything from chocolate chips to strawberries, oatmeal cookies, and sprinkles. This was Emily's first entry, and she seemed happy just to be competing.
• "Orange Sunshine" – Mom's vanilla-based shake had orange Crystal Light and mandarin oranges. The shake had a zing to it.
• "Citrus Blast" – Nathan's vanilla-based shake had a lemonade packet, Stephen's Wassail Mix, and a great deal of artificial lemon juice. If "Orange Sunshine" had zing, "Citrus Blast" had zing on steroids. Tasting this shake – which was like Sweet Tart ice cream – perhaps helps explain why we caught him running barefoot outside in the snow yesterday morning.
• "Chocolate Explosion" – Kaylie's chocolate-based shake had peanut butter, Oreos, and chocolate syrup. The shake won the children's division title.
• "Choco-Strawberry" – Carter's chocolate-based shake boasted chocolate and strawberries. Carter's shake rounded out the children's division.

Melissa and Peter (last year's champion and creativity winners) aptly judged this year's contest and largely managed to avoid controversy -- this despite a long history of judicial abuse by disgruntled contestants. The only criticism of today's event came from two sources: (1) Michelle took nearly ½ hour to make her shake; and (2) one of the judges was unusually brutal in some of his critiques. [We may be instituting time limits in future contests as a result.] This was relatively minor compared to the accusations leveled in past years. Three video cameras recorded the event this year, including a camera inside the judges' chambers as they tasted and scored the shakes.

As alluded to above, the field of milkshakes this year was beyond anything I've ever seen in the history of the contest. In fact, Michelle was so giddy about it that she was bouncing around at one point during the contest shouting "I love this family! I love this family!" (I think maybe she'd had a little too much of "Citrus Blast"). It's hard to be sure when we'll get together again for the next contest, but either way, we'll be talking about the milkshakes from today's contest for a long time.

Peanut M&Ms Revisited

It's hard to say exactly what possessed me last night. We visited Costco early in the evening to buy a few necessities, and, as we waited in the checkout line, I left Michelle and the kids and grabbed a last minute 52 oz. bag of Peanut M&Ms. At $9, it was quite the impulse buy. And since I opened the bag last night, there's no returning it now. I'm stuck with it.

My weakness for Peanut M&Ms is well documented and seems to know no bounds (well, save for the size of the bag). As even a cursory review of these posts reveals, self-control has inevitably eroded, and I've eaten them and eaten them far past the point when they no longer tasted good.

Still, it has been a few months since I last purchased a bag, and since that time, I devised and implemented our exercise for treat days program. Maybe it's foolish, but I'm optimistic I'll have at least a modicum eating control this time around. That I managed to stop short of eating myself sick last night was encouraging. The truth is, if the bag survives a week, that'd be about normal (Yes, I know.) Two weeks might well be a record. Three weeks would be unheard of.

So I'm guardedly optimistic, but history is not on my side.

The 70,000 Calorie Challenge

A few weeks ago I posted about a new approaching to reviewing donuts. Here's the problem: I haven't been so hot on donuts lately.

First it was the oil soaked butter log from Peterson's Donut Corner that kind of shook my faith (and thoroughly disgusted me). How could a donut shop that I've heaped such lavish praises on in the past (including calling them the best donut shop in San Diego County) turn on me with such lazy craftsmanship on a late July afternoon? After paying for and tasting that batch of donuts, I had to battle the thought: I don't really like donuts that much.

Then I had three experiences with Randy's Donuts (in Los Angeles) over the course of a month or so, due entirely to the generosity of traveling friends. Even absent the Peterson's oil soaked butter log experience, Randy's Donuts revealed everything else here in San Diego County to be so decidedly inferior that I've started to genuinely question why I bother. To satisfy my sweet tooth, of course, but I've started resorting to other means (like these giant chocolate chip cookies that I've started making).

Ah, but there are other reasons, too, why I haven't really blogged much about donuts lately -- chiefly because I've been trying (again) to reign in treats.

Granted, it's a much kinder world in that arena when I'm hovering around 5 lbs. of my target weight [as opposed to years and years I spent weekly resolving to lose 40, 50, or 60+ lbs.] Since July, Michelle and I have taken to another exercise incentive plan. It's devastatingly simple: 4 days of exercise a week = 1 treat day; 5 days of exercise a week = 2 treat days; 6 days of exercise a week = 3 treat days. The treat days carry over from week to week, and they never expire. This was working very well for me, at least until things got terribly busy at work, and I was out of town a few weeks.

Now, with roughly four months until Christmas, I'm trying to layer in yet another goal into my exercise routine – the 70,000 calorie challenge. My goal is through exercise and extra activities (like taking the stairs at work) to burn an extra 70,000 calories by Christmas. This amounts to roughly 17,500 calories a month, or roughly 673 calories a day (exempting Sundays). That may be a bit much given the effects of my work schedule lately on my exercise routine, but I'd like to think there's something noteworthy just in the attempt.

Care to join me?

On Hamburgers

Let me be plain: Five Guys has passed In-N-Out on my list of favorite burger joints.

I returned to Five Guys this evening after visiting it about 18 months ago (the last time I was in Columbia, South Carolina). I got the cheeseburger ($4.99), which at Five Guys means two 1/4 lb. patties. On the burger I elected to have pickles, tomatoes, lettuce, and jalpenos. The jalapenos, my friends, made all the difference. Placed underneath the patties and apart from the other toppings, their delayed heat enhanced the rest of the burger.

Now, in fairness, my meal at Five Guys -- burger, regular fries, medium drink -- cost me almost double what I can get for the same at In-N-Out. And that would probably matter if I was taking my whole family out to dinner.

But tonight I don't care. Maybe I'm just too familiar with In-N-Out, but their burgers don't thrill me anymore. The jalapeno cheese burger from Five Guys tonight did.

On Donuts

It's been nearly four years now since I started this blog. At the time, I had just finished the California Bar exam [and the sixth Harry Potter book] and was about to start my legal career. I had one child, and relatively few church responsibilities. I wanted some kind of creative outlet that could provoke a different style of writing, though I was hesitant to start blogging, both because everyone seemed to be doing it, and because I had doubts that my writing would only expose me for a fool. Despite, those concerns however, my views on donuts, ice cream, and day old bakery items seemed novel enough that, with a healthy dose of self-deprecating humor, they might warrant their own little corner of cyberspace. Hence, the Forbidden Donut.

As the years have passed, my taste in treats – particularly donuts -- seems to have evolved. So too has the nature and purpose of this blog. What once was my primary outlet for playful communication with friends and family has taken on a more subdued, often now backseat role, to other media, other responsibilities, and other habits. I have three children now, and since the start of 2008, I have also felt pressed to make daily entries in a journal. The window of time available to post seems to be all the time shrinking, and with it, the creative energy necessary to muster even these feeble posts. I used to strive for two posts a week. Lately, I've been lucky if I can manage one a month. [I stopped feeling guilty about that about a year ago.] Michelle also started her own blog, which has served to narrow the scope of my own somewhat.

With all this said, I am happy to note that I have decided to take on a more focused effort to review the donuts and pastries in the San Diego area and beyond as it suits me. Oh I will still allow myself room to post here just about anything I feel like, but my donut reviews in particular will be guided by four general criteria:

Price: Donuts can be wonderful things. It should go without saying, however, that the price of a donut is important. All things being equal, a free donut is far more wonderful than a donut that costs me something. And the more I have to pay for a donut, the more I expect from it (and consequently, the less forgiving I'm inclined to be for any shortcomings).

Taste: Donuts that taste good – particularly on the fourth or fifth helping – will generally score better than those that don't.

Character: The character of a donut takes into account those sensory perceptions apart from taste: appearance, smell, texture, and sound.* Yes, yes, I agree with you. The appearance and smell of a donut often have an impact on how that donut tastes. These categories are not meant to be mutually exclusive. Character, however, also encompasses the flavor of the bakery itself, including the atmosphere, the attention, care, and creativity put in to making the donuts, and even the personalities of those serving them up.

Value: My overall opinion of the donuts, taking into account the three categories above and anything else that affects the donut tasting experience.

These structured criteria should prove more helpful in comparing donuts (and any other food, for that matter) across the board. It also gives me a good excuse to revisit several shops I've already tried.

See you soon!

* Yes, sound. As in what the donut says to you when you first make eye contact in the bakery, or while it sits in the passenger seat on the drive home, or on a plate in the dining room table while you're waiting for your spouse to get out of bed so you can finally start sampling.

Oreos

So I kind of fell of the wagon in May. On my way down, I took with me a few Double Stuf Oreos and a few of their generic counterparts. They tasted good. Really good.

But, I knew that Michelle had her limits on how many packages I could appropriately buy and work my way through -- at least without getting some indicting looks, if not an outright lectures. I figured that if I was going to get beyond two bags, I needed an excuse.

Enter family home evening.* Every fourth Monday night, I am responsible for selecting and securing the treats for our family get together. I knew that just buying Oreos for the treat wouldn't be enough: for one, Michelle wouldn't be happy that I'd spent money to get the treats; and two, I was concerned that, having to share the bag, there wouldn't be enough for me.

So, in the name of research, I decided that we needed to do an Oreo taste test. The blind taste test would help determine if Oreos were worth the premium, or if we weren't just as well off with the cheaper generic brands. I was also interested in testing the seemingly inflated claims of some who swore that Newman O's -- an organic Oreo-like cookie -- are markedly superior to the Oreo.

This gave me license to buy five bags of Oreos and Oreo look alikes:** Oreos, Newman O's, Ralph's brand, Target brand, and Walmart brand. The Oreos cost the most at $3.19 for 18 ounces. Newman O's were the costliest cookie per ounce at $2.99 a bag on sale for 16 ounces (18.6 cents an ounce as compared to the Oreos at 17.7 cents an ounce). The Walmart brand were far and away the cheapest: $1.35 for 18 ounces. The other two brands fell somewhere in between.

We invited some friends over for the tasting, and I tried earnestly to keep to keep the methodology clean. The cookies were all on numbered plates 1-5, but were otherwise unmarked.

We let the kids first sample a few from the numbered trays. I didn't bother to blindfold them, but just asked them which they'd like the best. There was no clear consensus among, except that they all liked eating cookies.

For the adults, I had each blindfolded and seated at the table. I gave them a glass of milk and then gave them cookies from the five different plates in succession. They were allowed to eat as many or as few as they cared to. Their task, aside from a sugar fix, was to tell me which they liked best and which they liked least.

The Oreos did very well, coming in either 1st or 2nd on just about everyone's list. Newman O's also were among the 1st or 2nd selection of three of the adults (including me -- for as much as I wanted that not to be the case). They were also, however, considered the worst of the cookies by the two remaining adults. One particularly insightful participant described the Newman O's as tasting like chlorophyl -- though this was apparently a compliment (since he liked them the most).

The generic brands were, almost without exception, discernably inferior.

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A few other thoughts and observations from my research:

• One of the reasons I determined the Oreos and Newman O's were superior was because they had noticeably more filling per cookie sandwich. Walmart's cookies had about 1/2 the amount of filling as a regular Oreo.
• I should have varied the order of the cookies I gave participants, since the taste of each cookie seemed to get muddled by the time I got to numbers 4 and 5. I didn't have the time or the means to allow the participants to perfectly clean their pallets before each tasting. For me this meant that I started making decisions less on taste (as they all started run together) and more based on texture and amount of filling.
• The way in which the cookies are eaten/tested seems to matter. For instance, my perceptions seemed to change a bit when eating an Oreo straight vs. dunking them in milk.
• Finally, I would have vastly preferred to use Double Stuf Oreos. I couldn't, though because Newman O's and most generic brands only make regular stuffed. I can't be sure what doubling the filling on the cookie does to the overall quality of the cookie.***

All this is to say, of course, that further tests are needed.

* For the uninitiated, Family Home Evening is a night each week -- usually Monday night -- when our family gets together, sings songs, has a spiritual lesson, and then an activity and a treat. It would be hard to overstate how important the treat component is to making such activities a success.

** It was actually six bags, since Michelle and I accidentally ate a bag of Oreos the Friday and Saturday before the Monday tasting.

*** As it is I'm always separating the Double Stuff cookies to make them into Quadruple Stuf cookies.

Taste the Fire

Those of you in the Southwestern states may have been privy yesterday -- as we were -- to the "Taste the Fire" event at El Pollo Loco. Essentially, El Pollo Loco -- a Mexican restaurant chain that features grilled chicken -- was offering the world a free meal on April 28, 2009: two pieces of flame grilled chicken, two tortillas, and salsa for every person who walked through their doors from noon to 8 p.m.

I've been an El Pollo Loco fan for years and was especially pleased at the prospect of feeding my family there for free.

So yesterday I had Michelle pick me up from work so we could rush over to the nearest restaurant. We got there just after 5 p.m., and the line was already out the door. We parked, and took our place in line, and found we were surrounded by homeless people. I suppose that made sense, but it made me a little less sure that I'd done the right thing in making it a family outing.

The guy in front of us was especially chatty, perhaps partly explained by the fact that he reeked of alcohol. He seemed generally pleasant, though a bit less so when he volunteered information about things like his most recent arrest and what he deemed to be excessive bail ("I've never had bail set at $25,000 before") as well what he deemed to be excessive force by the "trolley cops" when they caught him without a ticket recently. [Meanwhile the family in front of this man felt the need to explain to my kids that they really were nice -- they'd only cursed and felt the need to flip off a few passing cars as we arrived because they'd been provoked.]

As we neared the inside area of the restaurant, the man in front of us did speak of Utah fondly and just how much he loves Mormons (this before he found out that we were Mormon). When Michelle noted that we were Mormon, he noted proudly that he'd read the "Mormon Bible" and even tried to recite a few passages he remembered. He spoke even more fondly of his wife of 11 months -- who was in and out of line while tending their things -- and he beemed to talk about the fact that they were married legally by a minister. The mostly one sided discussion made for an odd sort of kinship between us -- fellow people in line -- that I might've looked more gently upon if I hadn't been so caught up in what I felt was an increasing need to shield and protect my kids.

As we left it, the man at one point had decided to go to Utah in hopes of lower rent and a kinder general populous in Provo.

Ultimately, our turn came up in line. We got four of the aforementioned 2 pc. chicken meals for free, and even got suckered into buying $4 worth of sides. We decided against eating at the restaurant, opting instead for the comfort, privacy, and safety of our own home. The chicken and salsa were good -- they always are at El Pollo Loco. And, whatever might be said of the propiety of taking my wife and kids to the event and having them mingle in line with the folks we mingled with, we sure went home feeling more grateful that we even had a home to return to.

How Far I've Fallen

It's mildly painful this evening to realize that it's April 16, meaning it's been 9 days since my birthday. I got sick in the afternoon on April 6 and then spent the rest of the week fighting off a fever and alternating positions between the couch and my bed. It was the kind of sick that I couldn't do much besides exist, and exisiting just for the sake of existing loses some of its charm after the first day or two. [I intermittently tried my hand at Dr. Mario on the Wii, though I couldn't focus enough to be competitive and ended up dropping 800 points in my rating at one point.]

About the best thing I can say about being sick last week was that Michelle wasn't -- though I still left her a bit overwhelmed.

As the flu left, we all decided to pass around a cold around our house, from which we're still suffering. I have vowed to give thanks every day hence that I'm not hacking up a lung, or having to listen to Michelle or one of my kids do the same. I'd like to think we'll be just about entirely on the mend by Saturday, especially now that I opted to splurge for a gallon of orange juice this evening.

Recovering physically is one thing. Over the years, though, I've noted that my chief difficulty with getting sick is that all of my good habits seem to fall by the wayside. For instance, it's been weeks since I've exercised [and I've been patting myself on the back just for walking to and from the trolley these last few days.] It's likewise been weeks since I've tried to regulate at all what I'm eating and how much. My scripture study has devolved into the few verses I hurriedly read before falling asleep, and the television or Wii easily and quickly dominate my free time. Alas, my Dr. Mario rating isn't getting any higher. And even if it was, who cares?

Tonight, I'm thinking I want my life back. [I want my hair back, too, but that's another story.] I don't think, though, that I'm strong enough to simply reclaim it tomorrow in its entirety. And that bugs me.

Things You Do When You've Been At Home Sick All Week, Have A Few Moments of Lucidity, And Need A Break From Playing Dr. Mario

I sent this email moments ago to the Clearplay customer service department. For the uninitiated, Clearplay is a Utah based company that purports to offer a filtering technology that automatically mutes and skips the "bad" parts out of your DVDs, thus making them a bit more palatable to the more sensitive viewers [I count myself among them]. If you click one of the links on the side of my blog, you can read an article I published a few years ago on the technology. As you'll note below, however, I'm thus far not a fan.

To Whom It May Concern,

Last week I reached the last straw with Clearplay. Having recently purchased a brand new, latest model player, I figured I would finally be able to enjoy the moving viewing experience you tout so as to sell your players and your monthly subscriptions.

However, 15 minutes into the first movie, the filtering stopped working, or seemed to be misaligned so that my family and I were subject to all the things your filtering and DVD player were supposed to keep out. I called the next day and was instructed to upgrade the software, which I did. Yet the same filtering problems remained. I called back and was told I must have a defective player and that I'd need to send mine in to be replaced. "No need to worry," I was told by your customer service rep., "we'll pay for the shipping." I was told I would have an email with a shipping label in a few days, and then it would take me 2-3 weeks for a new player. To "compensate" me for my troubles, I was also told I'd be getting another 2 months membership for free.

Alas, no email with a shipping label ever came. Indeed, the only thing I've heard from you guys subsequent to my phone call now nearly two weeks ago was a message from a sales rep of yours, advising me that, while only one week in, my free membership was about to expire and that I should renew now for a special low rate.

This was not my first incident with your technology. Only the latest. Prior to this latest purchase, I purchased an older version of your player in December. It froze up constantly, and increasingly refused to read DVDs such that it became entirely worthless. When I talked to your reps about it, I was told that, tragically, the 007 model had about a 50% failure rate. The only solution offered for my troubles was for me to further purchase a two-year membership, which would "allow" your company to send me a new player [i.e. the one I just purchased], which I was told had only a 1% failure rate. It seemed like an odd thing at the time to be giving a sales pitch at the same time that the customer is complaining about, and the sales rep is admitting to, the fact that the technology was a worthless piece of junk.

While you continue to broadcast your accolades in your weekly newsletter, I would have it known that I am entirely unsatisifed with both your technology and your customer service. I ignored it for a time because I so desperately wanted it to work properly. However, my frustrations with both aspects of your company have now so boiled over, that I have resigned myself to at least no longer having to deal with the frustrations of owning one of your players. As such, I am returning it to Seagull Book.

My expectations at this point are that this email will probably fall on deaf ears, much as a previous, similar email seemed to, which email dealt with issues relating to my previous player. There is some part of me, though, that can't help but hope that Clearplay will finally rise to the level of its sales rhetoric and attempt to make whole an aggrieved customer. [And please note, by this I do not mean offering me a "discount" on an extended membership or a few months free of updated filters.] For what it's worth, if a meaningful effort is not made on your part, this bad taste in my mouth will ensure that I will be warning anyone who'll hear me to steer far clear of your company and your technology.

Sincerely,
Aaron Clark

The Six Week Plan [umm, make that 3 weeks]

This was supposed to be a redemptive post. A post about new beginnings, about a treat free weekend, and about an earnest commitment to salvage what's left of my honor and dignity by seeing through the last three weeks of what was supposed to be our Six Week Plan.

But tonight there is only weakness.

Three or four weeks ago I committed to help Michelle in her efforts to get back to her pre-pregnancy weight. Since the Christmas season we'd been battling [unsuccessfully] the tendency to indulge. Then three months later, in an effort to reclaim ourselves, we swore an oath to live treat free lives for the six weeks or so leading up to my birthday. Apart from the carrot of slimmer figures, we also put some tax return money up as a reward to frivolously spend on ourselves if we met our goals. All we had to do -- or at least all I had to do -- was to go without treats and to exercise regularly.

Michelle has done relatively well these past three weeks [or at least that's what she says.] But my heart has mostly only been half in it -- committed in the mornings, but looking for wiggle room by the evening. Such double-mindedness has lead to minor eating indiscretions at the office [e.g., a single donut two weeks ago, brownie bites on consecutive days this week etc.] and non-treat -- but no less caloric -- bowls of cold cereal late at night. Frankly, it's been the worst of both worlds: too few sweet treats to satisfy me, and yet none of the weight loss benefits of resisting.

Michelle seems to have taken great delight in pointing out my comparative weakness.

Something needed to change, and yesterday morning, feeling familiar stirrings, I re-signed a pledge promising not to eat treats for the next three weeks -- the last three weeks of our six week plan. I told Michelle about it and even made it through the day and evening without indulgence. Since it was a Friday, it was a doubly-difficult feat. I felt back on track.

Tonight, though, we attended a church function. A game night, celebrating St. Patrick's Day. Yes, desserts were to be provided, but we wouldn't partake.

Not three minutes after we arrived, though, I found Michelle with a giant chocolate chip cookie in her mouth. In between chomping the cookie, she mentioned something of getting back at me for the donut I'd eaten two weeks ago [I hadn't told her about the brownies this week.] Two minutes later, she was munching another cookie -- just as large as the last one. What was I supposed to do?

At that moment there was probably someone, somewhere, doing something against all odds to keep a committment they'd made to themselves or someone else.

Alas, it was not me. I started in on the brownie bites, followed up with the oatmeal raisin cookies, and finished with a chocolate cupcake or two. [No, actually I think it was 3 cupcakes, and probably 4-5 cookies.]

So I cannot write tonight of strength and honor, discipline and self-control. I can only write of the oft traveled road of over-indulgence, regret, and the painful reminder of Thomas Jefferson's famous words: "We never repent of having eaten too little."

Hopefully tomorrow I'll be able to make the committment stick.*


* To those of you tempted to counsel me to moderation -- rather than the feast or famine mentality manifested by this post -- thank you for the kind thought. Since Christmas, however, I feel no more capable of moderation than of holding back the tide. So we'll be sticking with the feast/famine approach for the time being.

A Late Night With Natalie

It's now nearing 1:30 a.m. The events of the evening have followed a similar pattern:

Natalie woke up around 10:30 p.m. Michelle went in to comfort her, and then we determined to let her fall back to sleep by herself. We waited and waited and waited and waited. Michelle grew increasingly frustrated.

By midnight we thought Natalie might be asleep again. We turned off all the lights and crept into bed, only to have Natalie, moments later, erupt with a new round of cries. The cries seem so much more pronounced when you're in the same room.

Michelle gets near frenzied by this point, abandoning all hopes for the following day and giving way to everything we'd spent the last hour and a half trying to accomplish. She brings Natalie into bed to try to nurse her down, which fails. Natalie continues to squirm and Michelle seems less and less able to deal with it. We have neighbors above and below and on the other side of our bedroom. Can we really just let her cry it out at midnight? And then what about when she's up again at 2 a.m.? At 4 a.m.? And even forgetting the neighbors, we're in a 2 bedroom apartment. Where are we supposed to go while she's crying herself back to sleep? All of these thoughts only seem to add to the desperation.

At last Michelle doesn't know what to do. She says prayers don't help, they make her depressed. She can't handle it. She won't handle it. And all of my own prayers throughout the evening touching this exact situation have again lead me to the same desperate circumstance.

I take Natalie out of the room, and Emily immediately starts crying between coughs from an adjacent room. I'm then trying to deal with Natalie and Emily -- who feels sick and wants to sleep in our bed. I get Emily a drink and try to comfort her while holding Natalie. Emily then goes back to sleep, and I'm stuck [while still feeling sick myself] with Natalie, who shows no sign of wanting to sleep -- though gratefully she does sit peacefully in my arms.

She then spits up all over the couch, and I have no spit rag. And the truth is I start to feel spent.

At length I offered a vocal prayer to God while I'm holding Natalie [who is awake still.] I try pouring out my frustrations and fears, my difficulties, and the difficulties of everyone else in this house. I wonder why Natalie is still awake tonight and what I'm supposed to do about. I wonder what He can and will do about it. I wonder why He doesn't seem as near, and why it is my prayers lately in these desperate hours feel so forced and dry. And as the answers aren't readily apparent, the prayers are offered with less feeling and with less hope.

And then I turn on the computer to read the latest Ensign message from President Monson, ironically on prayer. As he describes it, the great answer is simply to pray, and to be more constant and earnest in our prayers.

This is not helping. Not tonight. Not the last 5 nights. Not when I'm already in earnest and wanting to know why the Heavens seem silent as Michelle and I try to cope with Natalie's sleeping habits in a two bedroom apartment.

Throughout, though, at every instance when I'm tempted to complain or feel forsaken, a thought tries to wedge its way in: do I expect to be delivered simply for the asking? Do I expect prayers, even desperate prayers, to spare me difficulty? Is He not sustaining me even now? Is it not a great blessing that she'll sit contented on my lap? Has He not already allowed for the fact that, when Michelle can no longer handle things, He has given me strength sufficient that I can? And has He not still provided everything I have needed and more?

And then I remember Neil L. Anderson's thought: faith is not just a feeling, it's a decision. I feel inclined to choose faith, and as I ponder that thought while continuing President Monson's message, I find my little girl asleep. At least for now.

The Nutella Chocolate Donut

I have a moment to pay homage to Michelle's latest pastry efforts: this time a foray into the world of donut making.

Last Sunday, with a few of my sisters visiting, Michelle offered to make homemade donuts for our Sunday Evening Treat.* This was Michelle's second attempt to make homemade donuts. I'd meant to post about her first efforts at the time, but blogging time doesn't seem to come as easily these days. [They were great donuts, with an impressive homemade glaze -- though, as she'd acknowledge, many were a little doughy in the middle. The holes crispy cinnamon homemade donut perfection. A fine first effort!] Here's a picture:



Showing off her budding mastery of pastry know-how, Michelle's second effort had none of the weaknesses of the first. The second batch of donuts was nice and crispy on the outside, and cooked through on the inside. [She'd even asked me before she made them just how crispy I wanted the donuts to be.]

This time around Michelle had more of the same glaze, as well as cinnamon sugar for the donut holes. These easily would've satisfied anyone looking for a meaningful homemade donut experience.

I want to call attention to a particularly innovative, and tasty, effort of hers: the Nutella donut.


As Michelle tells it, my sister was searching through our cupboard, found some Nutella (which, for some reason, manages to survive in the cupboard even as all other chocolates in the house are devoured within hours.) Michelle suggested they spread it on some of the donuts.

Michelle's homemade donuts held up well against the thick Nutella spread, and were just plain enough to allow the hazelnut chocolate taste to take center stage with every bite. There was nothing light about the donut, but, especially with a glass of milk, it was the best chocolate frosted cake donut I'd had in some time.

I'd like to think she owes all of her inspiration to the Forbidden Donut.


*These Sunday evening treats are part of the reason we'll be seeking refuge in our "Six Week Plan" of exercise and good eating. . . that'll start this Tuesday.

Golden Donuts: Go For The Toasted Coconut

Last February, Michelle's anniversay gift to me came in a pink pastry box -- the kind that scream "sugary and delicious" even before you know what's inside. There were some Little Debbie's Donut Sticks inside, a few Hostess Donut Gems, and then a series of 6 envelopes and a small notebook with a picture of a Donut on the front.

Inside each of the envelopes was a $5 bill and directions to a local donut shop. As she excitedly told me, she'd researched and tried to find the six top rated donut/pastry shops in San Diego County. Few gifts could've been more thoughtful.

As I've visited these places, I've posted my reviews here.

Two Saturdays ago, I visited the last shop on my list.

Golden Donuts (North Park):

Golden Donuts is nestled in a tiny strip mall in North Park. It's not the nicest part of the town. A small sign with a dragon greets you as you enter, letting you know that they only take cash. I left in the early hours of the morning and didn't tell Michelle were I was going (or even that I was going), so I felt a bit rushed to get home. I quickly surveyed their fare and was initially a bit disappointed with what seemed to be yet another spread of mediocre donuts.*

(Smiling is So Much Easier With Donuts)

Whatever the donuts look like, I'm always bound to choose three specific donuts: a chocolate sprinkled donut (for Jared), a "pink" donut (for Emily), and a maple bar. I'm free to choose the rest. I was trying to be strong, and the donuts didn't do much to overcome it on this morning, since I only bought a 1/2 dozen [a cinnamon crumb, an old fashioned, and a toasted coconut yeast raised donut.]

The chocolate sprinkled donut was just what it purported to be: nothing more, nothing less. The pink donut was supposed to be cherry. There wasn't much cherry about it, though the frosting was red. The cinammon crumb was ok, and the maple bar frosting was crumbly and too thin.

The more donut tasting I do, the more I'm drawn to the old fashioned glazed donuts. Theirs was a quality old fashioned donut, with a healthy amount of glaze (some of which had seeped into the cake itself) and crispiness. I'd buy it again.

Their toasted coconut donut was the value of them all, perhaps mostly because I'm a sucker for toasted coconut and because, for all of the shops I've visited here, I haven't seen many yeast raised toasted coconut donuts. It was delicious, and it alone is the reason I will visit Golden Donuts again.

* I say this simply because I've found very few places here that seem to input any passion or creativity into their donut offerings, both of which is evident immediately both from the donut selection and aesthetics. Save for a very few, they all seem content to offer the same 10-12 types of donuts everyone else is offering.

New Year's Resolutions

While I was working as a missionary for my church, I once met man who told me confidently that he was perfect. . . save for two weaknesses: women and booze.

In that same vein of introspection, I seem to have at least three: chocolate cake, peanut M&M's, and sugar cookies, each of which I ate my weight in over the holiday season.

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[Yes, that's Sonic the Hedgehog -- a chocolate Sonic the Hedgehog]

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Now two weeks removed from all of the holiday celebrations, I feel a little more confident sharing one of my New Year's Resolutions that will surely prove to be one of the keys to all my happiness this year:

.

I will only eat 6 bags of Peanut M&M's this year. [I'd originally planned it to be 4 bags, but on January 1st, I found a sale at Ralph's for some leftover "Holiday Mix" bags of M&Ms. They lasted until January 3.]

A few other snippets of things I've been meaning to post on:

Surfin Donuts (San Clemente, CA):

A friend at work tipped me off to Surfin' Donuts when she learned of my donut exploits, giving particular mention to their dutch crumb bear claws. When we took the kids to Disneyland last December, we paid a visit.

Their donut selection was limited, and at the hefty price of .89 a donut, they couldn't quite get my attention. However, a chocolate donut and a pink donut caught Jared and Emily's attention respectively, and I hardly felt I could deny them -- not when we were headed to the happiest place on earth. They each kindly gave me a taste, and I can report that they were serviceable. [But please, at .89 a piece I'd invite you to look elsewhere.]

[The Glazed and Cinnamon Crumb Bear Claws.]

Michelle and I each picked out one of the recommended bear claws, which were a much better value at $1.39. Both were filled with an apple pie type filling and were very good. The cinnamon crumb was easily our favorite.

Donut/Yogurt Shop Near Little Caesar's [Linda Vista, CA]:

I stopped by this place at about 4 p.m. on Halloween. We had Hot N' Ready pizzas in the car, but I was feeling carefree. My sister Sarah was with me, so we decided to check it out.

They had about 7-8 donuts total under the glass as we walked in, and I distinctly remember a fly buzzing around somewhere. My immediate inclination was to turn around and walk out, but I couldn't get myself to be so bold. No, instead I shot a look to Sarah, who didn't seem brave enough to walk out either. I then responded to an attentive cashier and selected the two donuts below [which all but wiped out their donut supply]:

[Yes, this is just about how they looked under the glass -- and these were the better looking ones]

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My hope is that just looking at the picture gives you some clue as to how they tasted: old.

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Since Sarah paid for the donuts, I don't remember how much they cost. The free donut holes were a nice, unexpected gesture, but the poor quality and selection -- even at 4 p.m. -- makes my list for one of the three worst donut experiences of all time. The next time I pass this place on my way home from Little Casear's, I'm determined to turn my head and look the other way.

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Frosty the Snowman (Layton, Utah)

While we were in Utah, we made a snowman. Emily insisted we name him Frosty, and then wondered openly what we had to do to make him talk. When I told her that required a magic hat, she wanted to know where we could find one. When I told her we could only get a magic hat from a magician -- and that we didn't know any magicians -- Jared chimed in and suggested we look in the phone book.

Sadly, only a few hours after we built Frosty, someone decided to trespass on my parents' front lawn and destroy him while we weren't watching. [We found foreign footprints leading to and away from Frosty.] I tried to rebuild him, but someone pushed him over again on Christmas night. Hopefully Santa was watching and taking notes.

Fast Times at Ilion High (Revisited)

I learned yesterday that a post of mine from over 2.5 years ago justifiably caused offense to some former Ilion High School classmates of mine. While the issue has long since passed, I feel great need to make amends where feasible.

The post (which I deleted yesterday) took issue with the plans organizers had laid out for our 10 year high school reunion. I was living in Irvine, CA at the time and Michelle was expecting our second child. My circumstances were such that I was not going to be able to attend the reunion, though I still felt stirrings to try to do so to reconnect. However, after learning about the format for the reunion -- the major event of which was a catered BBQ at a classmates' home -- I responded critically on this blog.

In what amounted to only a small part of my foolishness, I took no account for how my comments were likely to affect those with a vested interest in the reunion [i.e., the organizers]. Nope, in my small-mindedness I had not considered that my public posting, with a search involving a few key words in the post, would reach far beyond my family and a few of my friends.

I learned for the first time yesterday that those comments posted long ago did get back to many involved in the reunion plans, and that several of them responded in kind on the blog [which I also had not seen until visiting yesterday]. One of the less profane, yet biting comments from a former classmate referred to me as a "pretentious, egotistical jerk."

What has stung is that such criticism of me seems justifiable.

I do not know to what extent this belated apology will ever reach those whom I foolishly offended now years ago. Nor am I confident that those people would even care at this point. But for what's it worth, I am very sorry. The post and criticism were uncalled for. This apology has been delayed only because it was not until yesterday that my foolishness was brought to my attention.

While I may not have been mature enough then to recognize that the value of a reunion lies more in the chance to reconnect than in the venue or format, I recognize that now. My ill-advised comments revealed my own shortcomings far more than any shortcomings in the efforts of those who organized the reunion.

Again, I am very sorry.

Aaron

Survival Instincts and Triple Chocolate Brownies

The hard truth is [or at least has been for us] that the days following baby and Mom's return from the hospital require near total abandonment of the high-minded pursuits that give meaning to live in order to satisfy our most basic survival needs.

The baby lives only to eat and sleep, and generally is discontented when she's not doing either. Mommy lives only to feed and sleep, and usually has to find a way to still be functional when she's forced to do without the latter. Daddy exists only to serve, and whenever Mommy senses he's branched beyond servitude and is attempting to pursue other pleasures,* she threatens imminent bodily harm [if only with her eyes and tone of voice]. The other children exist only to thwart the others' survival efforts, either by smothering the little one or making sure that they're loud and rambunctuous enough that neither she nor Mommy ever sleeps [and that Daddy suffers the wrath for not having kept them from being loud and rambunctuous].

Every evenings is a potential marathon fraught with "the baby isn't sleeping" time or "the baby is sleeping, but she might not be soon" time. It's a bleak existence, and I cling only to the cuteness of our little one, the sweets we've got in the cupboard or freezer, and the hope that things will settle in to a manageable routine at some point in the near future.**

All this is to say that celebrating Michelle's birthday yesterday proved a bit more difficult than in previous years.

In place of a birthday cake [which she's no longer shy about claiming not to like], she asked for birthday brownies: good ones. I turned to the only place I could trust with such a perilous assignment: Costco. As it happened, they were still selling the 7 lb. Ghiradelli Triple Chocolate Brownie Mix, which I don't think we've had since our days in Cambridge.

Demonstrating that Michelle's culinary wiles are not entirely lost on me, I decided not only to add walnuts to the mix, but to toast the walnuts before adding them. I also cooked them hours ahead of time to ensure that they'd be sufficiently cooled when the time came to eat them.***

[The baking team]

The result was a triple chocolate triumph.

[Notice the carefully arranged candles]

We also followed our trip to Costco with a trip to Ralph's for some Breyer's vanilla ice cream -- the seemingly perfect compliment to such decadent brownies.

For dinner, we went with a cheese pizza from what we've found to be San Diego's best pizzeria: Bronx Pizza. It's good, though when you've had the best at Grimaldi's in Brooklyn, it's hard to be impressed. Indeed as we ate our Bronx cheese pizza, I mused that this pizza of pizza's here in San Diego is little more than a slightly inferior version of what I grew up eating at Sorrento's Pizza in small town Ilion, NY. How odd it seemed that pizza out of a town of 10,000 comparatively in the middle of nowhere Upstate New York could so easily match, if not outclass, the best San Diego, California -- with it's 1.3 million people -- has to offer. [I also got a $5 Little Caesar's pepperoni pizza for the kids, since slices of the the Bronx pepperoni pizza come at a hefty $2.50 a pop and my kids would not have appreciated the difference.]

Additionally, I'm not sure I'm sold on the Ghirardelli brownies/Breyer's vanilla ice cream combo. The brownies are great, and the ice cream, of course, is great, and I would wholeheartedly recommend either as a stand alone dessert [provided you have some milk with the brownies.] But I didn't sense that they complimented each other well. Instead, it was as though these two dessert heavyweights were battling each other for tastebud supremacy and, because of the battle, ultimately cancelled out the delightful nuances that make them each stand out in their own right. [Granted, though, the pleasure of the Ghirardelli brownies isn't so much nuance as it is a chocolate assault on the senses.] I'm wondering if it's not a wasted effort coupling a really great brownie with a really great vanilla ice cream. Instead, the best course may be to decide which should be the "lead" dessert on any given evening, and then look for a mediocre compliment.

In any event, Michelle still turned 29 and seemed to appreciate the efforts to make special what surely was one of her more subdued birthday celebrations. Natalie would later make for a long evening, which Michelle bore with more patience than I was capable of. [Natalie may have been ticked we shared neither the pizza nor the dessert with her.]

Happy Birthday Love!



*Like blogging, for instance.

** Depending on the hour of the day, I may or may not be just kidding.

*** As some of you may be aware, unlike some other baked goods (cinammon rolls, apple crisp, and chocolate chip cookies, for instance) brownies are almost never better warm than they are cooled. The heat can easily mask the subtlety of the chocolate flavor that makes a good brownie so enjoyable. It also diminishes the appropriately famous brownie/vanilla ice cream combo by melting the vanilla ice cream, which is not desired for this particular dessert combo.

Fatherhood -- Part 3

Michelle gave birth early this week to the newest member of our family: Natalie Elizabeth. Weighing 7 lbs. 12 ounces and measuring 20.5 inches, she came on the scene Tuesday evening. She and Michelle are home now, and I just happened to keep a running diary.

[Natalie Elizabeth Clark]

Monday 9/29/08

9:15 a.m.: Michelle's due date. The doctor pushes for induction and Michelle relucantly agrees to be induced the next day.

9:45 a.m. - 10:00 p.m.: Many tears are shed [and not the joyous kind], and I can't help feeling that somehow they're all my fault.

Tuesday 9/30/08

2 a.m. ish: Michelle is awoken by an apparent street race, complete screeching tires, roaring engines, and a sprinkle of sirens and helicopter coverage. From her report, the race seemed to involve at least a couple of laps down Friars Road. This keeps her awake long after the chase has ended. I, of course, sleep through it all.*

4 a.m. ish: I notice the living room light is on and Michelle is not in bed. This means she is not sleeping. Not a good sign of things to come.

6:30 a.m.: Jared is awaking and dancing [literally] around the house. He is excited at the prospect of a new baby sister coming today. This, and the fact that we have blueberries for breakfast.

7:30 a.m.: We drop off the kids [still dancing] with friends and head to the hospital.

8:05 a.m.: We're five minutes late. I'm scheming over whether I need to buy the $20 parking pass or whether I can chance paying less by posing as a patient. I'm also wondering whether my flexible spending account will only cover the mileage for the the initial trip to the hospital, or each subsequent trip.

9:10 a.m.: The IV is in. Knowing Michelle, the hardest part of the whole ordeal is now over. [And she says this very thing moments later.]

9:20 a.m.: I float the idea of watching the White Sox/Twins play-in game later in the day. This is met with the kind of laughter from both the nurse and Michelle that tells me they don't think I'm serious.

10:51 a.m.: Michelle wants to be sure we've chosen the right name for our little girl. I openly wonder if it's too late to throw the name "Mad Mountain Dean" into the mix. This gets a laugh out of Michelle, which is a good sign.

Noon: I am famished. Michelle is too (though she's not allowed to eat). I head out for lunch and face the dilemma of where to eat. There are a few Mexican restaurants within walking distance, a CVS drugstore/pharmacy, and a Daphne's [Greek fast food.] Those factors weighing on my decision are: (1) I have $10 cash; (2) I need at least $3 cash for parking; and (3) I want to get full but not comatose full. I opt to start at CVS to see if anything strikes my fancy. A $2 14 oz. bag of Peanut M&M's catches my eye, but I just say no [bearing in mind that latter element to factor #3]. In the end, I opt for the Mexican restaurant closest to the hospital, since they take take American Express [meaning 3% back], and offer a sizeable California Burrito. They also have a salsa bar, so I'm sensing I made the right decision.

12:30 p.m.: Back in the delivery room, I find that my California Burrito doesn't have any of the promised potatoes inside. Even if it's a decent carne asada burrito otherwise (which it is) it's still not what I purchased. I weigh my options about returning to complain, but other matters seem a little more pressing.

12:38 p.m.: Michelle gets an epidural, and I wait out in the hall. I take my laptop with me and sit in a chair that seems conveniently positioned right outside the delivery room. I then start plugging away and some old journal entries I'm transcribing, when a nurse comes by and tells me to turn off the laptop. I find this odd [since it's allowed in the delivery room], but obediently comply. A few minutes later, I hear the nurse whisper to Michelle's doctor, who then approaches me and kicks me out of the hallway entirely, since my positioning in the hallway may infringe on other patients' rights to confidentiality. I'm a bit disgruntled about the way this was handled, but, not wanting to watch doctors stick long needles into Michelle's spine, I opting for the waiting room, where "Real Housewives of Orange County" is playing on the TV. I can't seem to avert my eyes from the show for more than a few moments.

3 p.m. ish: Michelle is only dilated to 4 cm. Ugh.

4 p.m.: I call our friends watching Jared and Emily, noting that things may go far later than we expected this evening.

4:45 p.m.: Still no baby, though Michelle is letting me watch the White Sox and Twins. [Of course, if it hadn't been for the epidural, I wouldn't have even been able to read without annoying her, so we're both feeling fortunate.]

5:20 p.m.: 10 cm. That was fast.

5:33 p.m.: Lots of hair, and a purple little body. The cord had to be untangled a bit. In those first few moments outside the womb, I find I'm holding my breath waiting to see if Natalie will take hers. In this instant I realize just how foolishly I had taken for granted the prospective health and well being of this little girl [and Michelle's as well, for that matter.] But she does breathe, and offers a faint little newborn cry that I count among the most pleasant sounds in all the world. As I hear it, I thank God for His mercy in looking past just how lightly I had looked upon the need for His help and protection in this endeavor.

6:15 p.m.: I reluctantly start phoning family members to share the good news. These are the kinds of things I much prefer to delegate to Michelle, though I can't quite bring myself to ask her at the moment. Natalie seems to be a bit more placid than I remember her siblings being.

[Can you sense how much I'm not looking forward to all the phone calls I have to make now?]

7 p.m.: Michelle is transferred from labor/delivery to her post-partum recovery room. I leave shortly there are to pickup the kids from our friends' house.

10:15 p.m.: With Jared and Emily sleepingly soundly, I ready for bed myself. The house seems empty, but I still remember to wipe off the bathroom mirror, somehow thinking Michelle will be able to sense it and be pleased.

Wednesday 10/1/08

6:30 a.m.: Jared comes bounding into my bedroom, wondering where Mommy is. He answers his own questioning a few moments later, remembering she just had a baby yesterday. Emily announces from her crib, "I want to wake up!" and the morning begins.

8:30 a.m.: The three of us search in vain for a Krispy's Donuts that's supposed to be found on Gramercy Drive [and that I even did a Mapquest for.]

9:15 a.m.: We ultimately give up and settle for Krispy Kreme, where I buy 4 dozen donuts -- personally selecting each of the donuts.** The clerk offers both of the kids a free glazed donut. I realize later that she never offered me one.

9:45 a.m.: We drop off three dozen celebratory donuts at the office. Jared complains that this only leaves our family with one dozen. [He then notes that he was hoping for at least 2 dozen.]

10:35 a.m.: We greet Natalie and Michelle with a dozen Krispy Kreme donuts and some chocolate milk. Few happier moments have ever been known among the Clarks [or likely among anyone for that matter.]

[Oh yes, the kids also got to watch "Dora the Explorer" the perfect compliment to donuts, chocolate milk, and a new baby sister.]

10/2/08

1:30 p.m.: Natalie and Michelle come home amid moderate fanfare [mostly requests by Jared and Emily to "pet the baby." Now the real fun begins.

* Yes, I too have wondered [silently, of course] whether the far fetched notion of a multiple lap street race, and the attendant police pursuit in squad car and helicopter, might not simply have been part of a late night pregnancy delusion, so common once a woman passes the 40 week mark. I'm not about to raise that possibility with her, though. After all, she's been through enough.

** Yes, I still have that "Buy one dozen, get a dozen glazed free" card.