The growth rate of children and the surprise their parents exhibit about it is well documented, so I will spare you my commentary on just how tall he is, how he finally has some hair, and how I don’t have to lean down anymore to hold his hand when we cross the street.

Recently Logan got the chance to meet a horse. He was pretty excited until the horse started snuffling his hand for an apple, then it got too real for him. He insisted on calling the horse a doggy.

We also got to meet Curious George during a recent even at the Lied Children’s Discovery Museum. Logan loves Curious George. It’s one of the few TV shows he watches and he will stand in the middle of the living room, transfixed and motionless for 22 minutes.

When Logan got the chance to meet George in person, his eyes got huge and his mouth dropped open. He ran at George and gripped him around the waist in a fierce hug.

Considerable negotiations were required to convince Logan to release George.

It was 20 years before I could eat pecan pie again.

Fortunately, much like my aversion to whiskey which was achieved by somewhat similar methodology, I eventually overcame my repulsion to pecan pie. Pecan pie is an American tradition of southern cooking that is widely popular during the holiday season. Like many American traditions, its origins are somewhat murky and romanticized with advocates refusing to believe it could possibly be a recent innovation designed as a marketing scheme for product promotion. All evidence suggests Pecan Pie was a 20th century innovation designed to sell Karo corn syrup. Sorry. That doesn’t make it any less delicious though.

So if Pecan Pie is so delicious, why the need to constantly modify ingredients and ratios? Why are there so many different recipes? Two reasons. 1. Some people are just plain wrong. 2. Adding bacon and bourbon makes just about everything better.

Crust
1 1/4 cups of AP flour
1/2 tsp sugar
1/2 tsp salt
1/2 cup of cold solid fat (butter, bacon grease, lard, or {shudder} shortening)
3 tbsp of cold water

Start with the bacon. Line a baking tray with aluminum foil and pre heat your oven to 400f. Lay in 6 slices of bacon. Cooking time will vary depending on how thick your bacon is, how streaky it is, and how big your baking tray is. A good rule of thumb is to flip the bacon in the tray and rotate it every 10 minutes. 20 minutes is usually enough. Don’t completely crisp the bacon up as you would for breakfast, otherwise your pie will get a slight burnt bacon flavor.

Lining the tray with foil makes for easy cleanup, and allows you to easily pour off the grease to save for later use. Cooking the bacon in the oven allows the bacon to cook evenly without curling up. If you really prefer to fry it, do so, I’m not your mother.

I use a scratch made pie crust because I think Pillsbury is part of an international conspiracy to make me fat and stupid, and because it tastes better. You can use a pre-made crust if you hate yourself, America, and good pie. Making your own crust will take about 30 extra minutes and allow you to tell everyone how you made the whole thing from scratch. Feel free to use a superior tone of voice, you’ve earned it.

In a big bowl whisk together the AP flour, salt and sugar. Using a pastry blender or two forks, cut the fat into the flour until the mixture comes together in small nodules from the size of a pea to the size of meal.

A word on fat. Shortening sucks. It is scientifically proven to make you obese. Bacon fat, lard and butter, on the other hand, are pretty good for you as long as you don’t snack on them by the spoonful. Also, they are much more tasty than shortening. Each will yield slightly different textures. I like to use a half and half mixture of cold butter and cold bacon grease.

After the fat is cut in, sprinkle on the cold water in small amounts while tossing the dough with a spoon. How much water you’ll need depends entirely on the humidity where you are. Start with 3 tablespoons, add more as needed until the dough starts to form together and clumps easily when squeezed. This is something you’ll get better at the more you do, but is really hard to explain in text.

Dust your rolling surface with flour, and roll out your dough until it’s large enough to fit in your pie pan with about an inch of overhang. Pat the dough gently into the pan, and trim the edges. Pinch along the rim to make a decorative edge.

Cover with aluminum foil and lay in some pie weights. If you don’t have pie weights, you can use dried beans. Bake in your 400f oven for 20 minutes.

While the pie crust is baking, start on the filling.

2 cups pecan
1tbspn bacon grease
6 slices of bacon, cooked and chopped.
3 eggs
1/2 cup sugar
1/2 cup Maple syrup
1 cup corn syrup
5 tbsp butter
2 tsp vanilla
1/2 tsp salt
2 oz bourbon

Roughly chop the pecans. Mix the pecans with a tablespoon of bacon grease in a large non stick skillet. Heat over medium heat, to toast the nuts. Keep an eye on them, they will go from toasted to burnt very quickly.

In a large mixing bowl, whisk the eggs, salt and sugar until well combined. Melt the butter and whisk it into the eggs. Chop up the bacon you cooked and mix it, along with the rest of the ingredients into the egg mixture. When the pecans are toasted, set them aside until the pie crust is baked.

If you’re a vegetarian, or for some other inexplicable reason don’t want bacon in your pie, feel free to omit it. The real secret to the flavor here is the bourbon and the maple syrup.

When the pie crust is done, pull out the pie weights, and reduce the heat to 375f. Mix the pecans with the rest of the filling, and then pour it into the crust. Bake until the center quivers but is set, about 35-45 minutes.

Merry Christmas, you’re now the most popular person you know.

I’m accustomed to getting these kind of invitations from friends and family, and I find that I usually have to run them through a social interaction filter to determine if the invitation was made as a polite gesture, never intended to be accepted, or as a genuine request for a visit. It wasn’t necessary for this invitation, as my Aunt Linda is among the most sincere people I know. Also, she lives in Napa, and who doesn’t want to take a trip to wine country?

As it turned out, we didn’t have any plans for Veterans Day weekend, and we had been looking for some kind of short trip. A weekend in Sonoma County sounded like the perfect thing. Schedules were compared, plans made, websites looked at and plane tickets purchased.

For the first time, Logan got his own seat on the plane.

Michael and Linda have a beautiful home in what must be one of the most beautiful places on the west coast. I can see why people want to live here. The weather is pleasant, even in November. As the vineyards turn to autumn, the gentle hills are transformed into a patchwork quilt of fall colors.

Even the roads are picturesque.

We visited the Robert Sinskey winery and sampled several of their outstanding red wines. We really went to see the fish though. The winery has a pond stocked with koi near the entrance. Fish food is available from the counter, and the koi are accustomed to receiving treats to such a degree that they’re nearly domesticated.

I can now say that I’ve pet a fish, an achievement so unlikely that I was unaware of it. Logan had a ball feeding the fish.

We also visited Train Town, a mini amusement park with a working rail line in 1/5 scale. Passengers sit in the cargo cars, and are pulled through an extensive wooded area featuring waterfalls, bridges, and stops at a tiny frontier town with a petting zoo.

Two full sized cabooses are open for excitable toddlers (and adults) to scamper through. In between the cabooses was, inexplicably, a passenger car outfitted with precambrian video games, most of which were in varying stages of decay.

A short walk from Linda and Michaels house is Connolly Ranch, a 12 acre remnant of Napa’s agriculture heritage with a focus on teaching kids about nature and sustainable living. They weren’t open for general tours, but were kind enough to open their doors and let us wander around anyway.

We saw a lot of critters,

took a short hike in the hills,

and tumbled off a hay bale once or twice.

Logan spent some quality time with gourds,

,sat on a saddle,

and spent some more time with gourds. He loves gourds.

Mostly, he just loved Connolly Ranch.

Logan got to spend some time with his cousins we rarely get to see.

He spent enough time with them that Cameron and I were able to get away for some adult time and visit Artesa winery.

On Veteran’s day, we drove down to the veteran’s cemetery.

Even though it was sprinkling, the view was still breathtaking.

A good trip isn’t just marked by the places you visit, or the things you do. The best part about a trip is the people you visit and the ones you travel with. I couldn’t have been in better company.

In conclusion, here is a picture of Logan in the bath wearing a lunch pail as a hat.

Immediately after I stopped filming that short ride, he demanded “AGAIN!” and ran to the ladder. The second ascent was much quicker, and emboldened by his previous success, Logan barreled down for a second descent. What appeared like a fairly dramatic somersault at the bottom only seemed to delight him, and ended in cackles of glee.

That being said, my two year old son loves them both. So, I guess they did something right.

Logan’s fondness for Curious George requires him to shout out “MONKEY” every time the TV is turned on, and to lament “No Tup Tup (Star Trek) dada. Monkey!” If Monkey is not forthcoming, one of a series of scripted tantrums will play out with all the melodrama, and cliche of a penny dreadful.

Since Curious George (MONKEY!) is virtually the only thing other than dirty diapers (YUCK!) that Logan holds a strong opinion on, we elected to use it as the theme for his birthday party.

Our friend Kat, with the assistance of Heidi, made this awesome Curious George cake. That’s two years in a row that Kat has delivered the goods for Logan’s Birthday. You may recall she made this awesome train cake for his first birthday. If Kat isn’t careful she’s going to become a traditional element of our son’s birthday parties.

Logan, by the way, loves the cake.

The party was a hit. Friends came by. We ate some snacks. We sang Happy Birthday, and Logan played with his favorite new toy, a backyard slide.

He was so excited about it, he even helped me put it together.

He likes the slide so much he has a tendency to bring his stuffed animals along and coach them on the proper way to descend the plastic slope. I don’t appear to have any pictures of that yet, so I’ll close with a picture of Logan wearing my shoes.

For a time he played with Cameron’s old cell phone. That stopped the day we realized you could still dial emergency services, even without a sim card installed. After Grandma apologized to the operator, the cell phone was consigned to the Shelf of Forgotten Toys.

We replaced the cell phone with an old digital camera. It was broken in such a way that it could not produce images, but would still power on and make flashes and boops and beeps. It was an instant hit.

Recently Logan found the Not Broken digital camera. It had been left unsecured somewhere in the living room. He immediately set upon the task of making art.

The sharp reader will note that the 24th of August was smack dab in the middle of our recent trip to Disneyland. This was by equal parts planning and happenstance. Ok, mostly the latter. I tried to pretend that I planned it, but Cameron saw right through my thin veil of deceit. We took advantage of the opportunity, and the Grandma babysitter we had brought with us, to have a nice dinner at Steakhouse 55 in the Disneyland Hotel. It was very good. I had a giant ribeye and a double helping of béarnaise. Unfortunately we have no pictures of this event, as it had been a long day and I started drinking as soon as we sat down. Instead, here’s a picture of us at another fancy restaurant at a different Disney Resort, the week after we got married.

The eight wedding anniversary is traditionally celebrated with gifts of ceramic. When we returned from our Disney trip, we took advantage of Grandpa babysitting and lit out for the Artful Potter, where we made this platter.

Well. “Made” is a strong verb. “Designed” would be more accurate. “Painted” would be even more accurate, but lacks a certain implication of artistic endeavor and romance. When you’ve been married for eight years, have a toddler, and spent the previous day driving through the wastelands of Nevada and California, a few hours painting a plate is what passes for romance. Don’t judge me. I ended up enjoying myself a lot more than I expected, and I think the platter came out very nice. Next time you’re at our house, chances are you’ll be served appetizers on it. And by “appetizers” I mean “whatever chip or cracker Logan hasn’t eaten all of.”

Lastly, and think most romantically, I took the opportunity of our 8th wedding anniversary to upload photos from our honeymoon.

I asked you not to judge me.

I can’t figure out why, but for some reason, the photos from our honeymoon trip have been sitting on my hard drive for 8 years.

It was a great trip. We spent a week in Disney World in Florida, and then a week on a cruise ship in the Caribbean.

It’s been so long that I don’t know which islands we visited, but for some reason I took an inordinate number of photos at a 400 year old jail during the course of the trip.

I also made best friends with the bartenders on the ship. Stop judging me!

Despite being miserably hot most of the time we were in Florida and the Caribbean, it was one of the most enjoyable trips we’ve been on. I am eagerly anticipating taking Logan on his first cruise.

I vowed that we wouldn’t return until he was older and more apt to enjoy himself. Cameron reminded me of that vow in the car while we were winding through Cajon Pass. It’s been less than a year since our last trip, and here we were returning.

Luckily, Logan was more engaged this time. He still put up some fuss about the stroller every once in a while, but the rides seemed to interest him a lot more this time. In particular he really seemed to enjoy the Tea Cups and, surprisingly, Pirates of the Caribbean. After both he made the hand sign for “more” and demanded “again! again!”

My mother came along this time, to provide some extra hands, and to babysit so we could go on some of the more adventuresome rides together. She brought along her friend Jenny. The two of them met through the penpals section of Western Horseman Magazine when they were 12 and have stayed friends ever since. This week was the 50th anniversary of their first letter.

Naturally, they wanted their picture taken with a horse. The horse begrudgingly allowed it.

We visited Toontown to see Mickey and his friends. I rarely go to Toontown, and I realized on this trip why. Toontown has essentially no shade. Other parts of the park are lush with foliage, and while still hot during the summer months, there are places to rest out of the sun. Not so in Toontown. In Toontown there are barely any trees, and everything is made of painted fiberglass that sits in the sun.

Still, we got to meet Mickey.

And Logan got to spend 20 minutes being hypnotized by the dishwasher in Minnie’s house. Interestingly, the kitchen was the focal point of Minnie’s House.

Mickey’s house, by contrast, didn’t even have a kitchen, and sported things like a writing desk, and a barn area featuring chickens ready for the slaughter.

At first I chalked this rather blatant sexism up to an anachronistic Disney world view from decades past. Then I discovered the Toontown was opened in 1993. I’m not sure what to make of that.

Despite my politically correct criticisms Toontown is a fun place for kids, who are neither intereseted in the social and political commentary of adults, or properly respectful of the fearsome ball of nuclear devestation that hangs 93 millions miles above our heads. Naturally, Logan beheld all the craft and spectacle of Toontown, and spent the most time playing on a slide.

We did the usual meet and greet of characters.

Pooh and Tigger were tracked down in their normal spot, as well as Eeyore. Tigger caused quite a stir when he bounce bounce bounced Logan to the ground accidentally, as Tigger’s are wont to do. At first Logan had no reaction, but when the 7 foot tall anthropomorphic animals in pastel shades of terror attempted to console him, he figured on crying just to be sure.

Because it was a Disney family fun adventure, I was forced to ride It’s a Small World again.

Last time we went, we stayed at the Grand Californian hotel. It’s a nice place with a direct entrance into the Disney California Adventure park. I decided to stay at the Disneyland Hotel this time, for the simple reason that we’d never stayed there before.

The Disneyland Hotel is under major renovation. The rooms were nice, but the rest of the property was divided up into inconvenient construction zones and the noise during the day was cacophonic. The pool was nice, the part that was open anyways, with interesting water slides and a zero entry area that kids could enjoy. We have no pictures of this, because cameras don’t like water.

In the end, it was a long and tiring three days, but a good time. I seem to have a relationship with Disney that is conflicted. On the one hand, I grew up on Disney films and many of the properties are deeply rooted in nostalgia for me. I love the parks, the sense of magical relocation, and wonder of the spectacle. As I get older, I find myself more and more interested in the craft and engineering of the park and it’s attractions.

On the other hand, I loathe the crass commercialism of the entire escapade. From beginning to end, I find myself assaulted by the hypnotic appeal to consume for the sake of consumption. I hate the abhorrently long lines that are measured in hours sometimes, with a reward measured in minutes. With a murderous hatred I despise the enormous crowds, most of whom seem to have no idea that they share their immediate surroundings with other people,. They gleefully rebound off other pedestrians, or vapidly block entire traffic ways while their extended family stand in a large circle to discuss how best to get more fat and stupid.

On the gripping hand; Soarin’ Over California never fails to erase all that ugliness and paste a nirvanic smile across my face.

Aunt Tekla flew in from Austin to spend her birthday weekend eating my cooking, drinking my booze and watching Harry Potter. We don’t get to see Tekla very often, so when we do, we make a big deal out of it.

Grandpa was so excited he started balancing things on his head.

It was also the weekend for our annual Ice Cream Social. What started as a backyard summer get together between two families has grown. As the kids got older and got families of their own the gathering has gone from a few to many. We’ve been doing it for at least 15 years.

We make hand crank ice cream from Big Tony’s secret recipe.

The rule is, if you want ice cream, you have to take a turn at cranking.

When you’re not cranking though, it’s okay to just hang out.

Once it’s all cranked out, the ice cream is worth all the sweat and effort.