Happy Birthday

I just got a cryptic voice mail from Sarah - something about owing it to my public to acknowledge the 25th anniversary of MTV.

So, there you have it. Happy Anniversary, MTV.

Thanks for Flock of Seagulls, the Buggles, Safety Dance, and Take On Me. Thanks for Duran Duran, and 120 Minutes, and Gilbert Godfrey, and that shortlived game show that my cousin Andrea was on (Remote Control?). Thanks for commodifying grunge and alternative at record speeds. Thanks for spawning the new reality television genre - Sorry all of the rip-offs couldn't be as engaging as that guy who put his hand in the peanut butter jar all those years ago, or as wicked smart as that hot Asian girl you stole from Northwestern's Tri-Delt house for your Seattle season.

Yours,
isaac

File Under: Being An Adult Is Hard

What should Sarah do with a fantastic, full-time job opportunity that was recently offered to her on a silver platter (because she's a goddess of the long-form television edit)?

It's the classic calculus: How can we balance career aspirations with raising children, especially in New York City where great jobs come with great salaries and every dollar counts?

Sarah is a freelancer right now. She chooses her own hours, and has managed to carve out two full weekdays to spend with Asher. Both of us love that our son can spend quality time with his Mommy, rather than with a nanny or in some sort of childcare that extends until 7pm, when one of us gets off work. We've budgeted so that Asher and Sarah's time together is an affordable luxury - nearly unheard of in New York City.

It's funny - If you would have asked either of us as recently as a couple of years ago whether we'd turn away from impressive career trajectories in order to spend more time our child, we would have likely responded with something about being able to do both. Guess what folks, that ain't possible - at least in the Big Apple.

It's all about trade-offs.

To answer an earlier question, I can't be.

This a good thing, but also a very frustrating thing to execute on right now. I wish I could explain here exactly how frustrating. Perhaps in a few days.

Watermelon Man

We visited our friends in White Plains last weekend, and Asher made short work of a watermelon slice.

Last night, Sarah and I had our periodic "We're reaching our breaking point in this tiny apartment, and we have to do something about space SOON" conversation. And now, after a sleepless night, I'm frantically searching the real estate websites, and wondering how I can beg, borrow or steal the million plus bucks that will keep us in the neighborhood but add another 200 square feet and a bathroom.

Is $1.1 million too much for a gut rehab with a top-floor rental?

Can we move a mile and a half south and walk 30 minutes to the train every morning?

How bad ARE the public schools around here?

Are the suburbs simply inevitable?

I can't believe I'm even asking these questions.

Someone talk me off this ledge.

Asher just started talking to me on the phone. Granted, our conversations are pretty much limited to "yeah," and "no," with a lot of gibberish filling in the gaps. But he knows it's me on the other end! And he definitely responds to my questions!

This afternoon's conversation:

"Are you at Grandma and Grandpa's house right now?"

"Yeah."

"Did Mommy lock her keys in the car?"

"Yeah."

"Wow, that's funny."

"Yeah."

The new Golden Smog record came out this week.

I'm listening to it for the first time, and am not prepared to make any value judgements, yet. But it does feel like seeing an old friend, again.

One of my fondest memories from Chicago in the late Nineties is seeing the last Golden Smog tour at Metro. We were set up in the corner of the balcony, webcasting the show for Rollingstone.com. My friend Kristen was with us (she was my perpetual plus one), sucking down beers and dancing on the radiator.

The band was clearly psyched to be there. For them, it was a coming home after a long tour. Jeff Tweedy's parents made the trip up from Bellville for the show, and his toddler son wandered on stage a couple times. Gary, Mark, Dan and the rest of the Minneapolis contingent had enough friends and family there to make it feel like a homecoming for them, too.

I still have a copy of the show, if anyone wants it.

My friend Matt got a new job a few months ago with a Cartoon Network division in "quiet mode."

They finally released details today. Seems Matt is the content designer on a new massive multi-player online game that uses Cartoon Network characters as the starting point.

What that means, specifically, is that while I go home and talk about revenue forecasts, strategic planning, and huge presentations, Matt goes home and talks about about how he made Bloo enter a Shinto shrine, find a golden chest full of of magic and use it to help player avatars reach new plateaus in love.

Hmmmph!

This does not instill confidence

"Oh, we have so many problems that I can't find an update on yours."

- Con Ed customer service rep
2pm today
(I called to check on the status of our power outage)

The power on our block went out last night around 9pm. The Powers that Be cannot tell us when it will be fixed, and recommend that we sleep elsewhere tonight. Good times.

Oh, To Be Young... Or A Teacher With The Summer Off

My sister-in-law Debbie is a 6th grade teacher in New York. And like most teachers, she has summers off.

Debbie called me this afternoon from Northern California where she'd been volunteering at the Dandelion Farm. She'd finished her stint there, caught a ride to a town called Ukiah (known for Orr Hot Springs), and wanted to know if she should head south to the stunningly beautiful oceanside town of Mendocino or north to the sleepy college mountain city of Arcata.

Meanwhile, I was between meetings, and just about to race home to relieve the babysitter, play with Asher for an hour, then try to put him to bed and cook dinner.

Best of 2006: The First Half

Usually, the biggest challenge with these lists is whittling down 50 or so good songs to a more digestible number. The good news is, that wasn't a problem this time around. The bad news is, that wasn't a problem this time around.

January through June of 2006 has to be the worst six months for music since 1995 when the landscape was littered with overblown garbage (Oasis, Alanis, Pumpkins, Bjork), underdeveloped garbage (Jayhawks, Ron Sexsmith), and just plain Garbage (Garbage).

And that's not just the music snob talking. CD sales are at an all-time low, year-to-date. Exurban saviors like Gnarls Barkley are falling flat. The kids are all right (thanks to Panic at the Disco), but the key age group of 18-35 who has just enough soul left to care and just enough disposable income to waste - they're fleeing the music stores in droves.

The GOOD news is that, although I was hard-pressed to find enough music to fill a full-length mix CD, what I did choose is pretty delightful. Most of it would fall solidly into the "music for grown-ups category," but hey, I'm a grown-up.

Top full-length efforts so far include:

a breathtaking Neko Case CD that I prattled on about earlier

the Raconteurs album that fuses Midwestern-tinged 80s/90s rock (old Wilco, late-period Replacements) with yawlping indie pop. Brendan Benson needed some more edge. Jack White needed more melody. It was a perfect fit.

a pair of releases from Nellie McKay and Sondre Lerche that lie seductively in the spaces between hot jazz and cabaret, without sounding too retro.

As always, if you've got Rhapsody, this playlist can be activated with the click of a mouse.


Best of 2006 - The First Half:

1. Sukie In The Graveyard - Belle and Sebastian
2. Star Witness - Neko Case
3. Everyone's Rooting For You - Sondre Lerche
4. Black Sheep - Nellie Mckay
5. Liar - Built To Spill
6. Moonshiner - Jolie Holland
7. Erie Canal - Bruce Springsteen
8. Intimate Secretary - The Raconteurs
9. Who Left The Lights Off, Baby? - Guillemots
10. So Hard To Find My Way - Jackie Greene
11. Writing on the Wall - Cities
12. Roly Poly - The Little Willies

Can I be bribed?

That is the question of the day.

Our friends the lawyer and the real estate mogul threw their new baby a party on the beach near their summer home, yesterday.

Located in Lido Beach (Long Island), the house is the third residence they own, and it's about fifty yards from semi-private ocean access. The party was, of course, catered - mixed grill on the fly in one tent and your choice of sides/drinks in the other. White tables and enormous umbrellas adorned the sand, and all the other guests' taxable income probably exceeded ours by an order of magnitude.

I usually feel fairly out of place in that crowd, but the steak, the beer, and the whiffle ball game helped somewhat to temper those issues of economic inadequacy.

Asher, of course, had a blast, and Sarah always likes to see her old college friends.

I wonder which of the following is more indicative of my wonkish tendencies:

A) I was amused to see Joe Lieberman paraphrase Lloyd Bentsen's famous Jack Kennedy quote during last night's primary debate against upstart challenger Ned Lamont.

B) I was watching a Connecticut Senate primary debate in the first place.

Vacation and the Bomb

Our upstairs neighbors invited us to their country home in the Catskills over the weekend. The house was about twenty minutes outside of New Paltz, a sleepy university town with the collective personality of Berkeley after one too many whippits.

We headed up on Saturday morning, and stayed for a few days of hiking, swimming, and general pampering that included a stealth raid on the exclusive Mohonk Lodge's 4pm tea where Asher lolled in a rocking chair, sipping... peas.



The big news upon our return was the bomb scare that shut down the neighborhood. Police cordoned off the streets, block by block, and turned loose their men in radiation suits. Turned out it was a hoax, but it kept us out of our apartment until 8pm on Monday night.

July 4th was thankfully less eventful. I got some work done on a presentation in the morning while Asher and Sarah hit the playground. In the evening, we went over to Amy and Dan's for a rooftop cookout. As it was Park Slope, there were a pack of toddlers underfoot, chasing each other around while the adults drank Brooklyn Lager and ate grilled veggies.