Lefty Limbo

With my folks in town for the week, I took advantage and spent an afternoon with my kid and my dad at Toes Beach, Westchester’s local surf spot which was my second summer home as a kid.

This was truly a memorable event; as simple and mundane as it may have seemed, it was the first time three generations—and three Gregs—of the Narvas clan gathered on the shore. My head tingled when I realized that.

The littlest Greg had a blast with his new Bruder© CAT Grader (which is totally awesome, btw)—the beach sand couldn’t have been a more perfect landscape for him to peruse. In the meantime, the same landscape also served as an immense canvas for my dad and I to build sand castles, using the super-cool Lakeshore Make-A-Castle Sand Molds. Enjoy…oh and also, see if you can spot the Pinoy squat. =)

I try to entertain my kid outdoors as much as possible. I figure it’s the least I can do to get him to appreciate his natural surroundings…before we go back inside and play Atari

Anyways, the Sugar Daddy strikes again. Greg really loves seeing how the ants mob the blob—and this time they were on it like white on rice. They must’ve been hungry from that long walk.

Imagine Herbie Hancock’s “Rockit” tune playing right now with these ants about to breakdance battle on top of the blob, eh? What better way to work off that sugar rush.

I enhanced this one a little with an unsharp mask in Photoshop. I’m not sure if I caught some surface tension in that blur to the left of the ant’s head, but it’s still amazing how these ants can walk on top of the liquid surface.

I’ve always liked ants’ butts (I know, I know…they’re abdomens). They look like little brown Christmas tree lights. I’ve heard they leave trails with their butts to lead the other ants to spectacular finds like this gigantic blob which appeared out of nowhere. I wonder if the other ants smelled the trail and went, “WTF! Are you serious?!! I’m SO there dood!”

I also wonder if ants talk like surfers.

I’ve always been fascinated with insects. It seems the smaller they are, the more my fascination.

Years ago, I remember seeing some spilled Coke (the soft drink) on the ground. Upon closer inspection, I saw an army of ants lined up along the sugary puddle’s entire perimeter, perfectly side by side, with each of their mandibles dipped into the coagulating liquid. They were all completely fixated and still, save for their antennae, which seemed to stroke the Coke lovingly.

I wondered what the hell they liked about Coke, then I figured it had to be the sugar.

In an effort to show lil’ Greg all of Earth’s natural wonders, I decided to perform my own rendition of the phenomena years ago. I didn’t have any Coke on hand, so I made my own concoction out of a pinch of pure sugar mixed with a drop or two of water. I’d shown him an ant trail before, and have even shown him how to feed the ants. But this sugary treat would be a first flight.

I explained to him that ants really love sugar, and proceeded to place a tiny drop of the sweet syrup right in the path of an ant trail in the front yard. Within a matter of seconds, the ants surrounded the blob, first inspecting the strange arrival then immediately piercing it with their mandibles, much to the delight of lil’ Greg, who exclaimed, “Look Daddy! They’re eating!”

Once again, the ants displayed that same, focused intake, poised with their antennae seemingly stroking the blob. When I look at the pictures, I notice that their mandibles are barely touching it. I wonder if they’re somehow channeling the syrup between their mandibles with suction.

I’d like to perform a series of experiments, each using a different substance. If I do, I’ll be sure to share.

There was a time when he would sit at the top of this slide, timid and reluctant. “Go, Greg, go!” I would encourage. He would look at the distance from top to sand and gulp. “No daddy, I wanna go with you!” In hopes of reducing his dependence, I would continue to encourage him to go alone. “You can do it!” I’d say, in the oh-so-typical parental tone of possibilities. And he wouldn’t. Not yet. He would either turn and walk away; or I’d end up riding tandem with him.

Then one day, he sits at the top of the same slide with a look of determination. “You can do it!” I’d repeat, maintaining that core of confidence. He sits, then shifts…discovering that the ride would be so much more exciting another way…and he flies head first into the sand below, with the heartwarming glee that only a child can muster.

I laugh with him, dusting him off…happy at his initiative and dare-deviledness…and somewhere inside, as I realize how time flies…I grow timid and reluctant.

There’s those stories of parents who try to turn their kids into child prodigies; shape them into “trophies” which they can show off—stories like Joy Luck Club and even Little Miss Sunshine.

As much as I try to encourage my kid to play drums, I never force him…although there is something in me that says I should be teaching him more often than I have been. He definitely shows interest, and plays his drumset without even being asked to (as in above).

I often wonder how important it is to nurture such things…like, if I was just to leave him on autopilot, would he keep playing at his own leisure and eventually get better? Or does that tiny ounce of extra encouragement from me make all the difference in the world as to whether or not he ends up playing the drums in the future?

Ah, the unending wonders of fatherhood.

Oh, and yes, if you haven’t noticed yet, I did make some changes around here. =)

I just bought some shelving units from Ikea for my kid’s bedroom. He has a bunch of toys and we need to get them organized. As neatly laid out and aesthetically pleasing Ikea is, there are some things I’ve realized after building these things:

• Although they look all cool and modern and euro, Ikea’s shelves are simply just compressed wood shavings cleverly wrapped in nice veneer. While unpacking and lifting the shelves, I got reminded of stage props. Wow, they look real…but they’re not!
• After realizing this, my better half and I both agreed that we should be paying less than half of what we really spent on these things.
• Nevertheless, we, like many others, flock and feed from a company who’s managed to market themselves in such a way that one can nearly overlook or forgive the cheap construction in favor of the artsy, minimal-modern euro styling and exotic euro brand names that add to the illusion of quality, durable goods.
• Ikea should really include a hammer or rubber mallet (to avoid damaging the cleverly wrapped wood chips) in their instruction manual when listing tools needed to build.
• A hammer really comes in handy to tap in the wooden dowels to even lengths, and even more so to force feed the frequently stubborn allen bolts used to finish the shelves.
• One should use caution when building these units, as the clever clumps of composite material appear to be solid, but actually get easily chipped and dented—the protective veneer is paper thin.

It feels good in my hand
Soft and squishy
but firm

The pill says Dquil
In neat, modern letters
I think of the factory where they made them
and picture the machines
and people on breaks
having coffee
or vending machine cookies

I hold it up to the light
and see it shine through
the blazing red orange
technology is beautiful
multimillions
made on our well-being
somewhere someone
can say “I did that.”
Motherfucker.

I think of the future
this could be food
a complete meal
a baconburger combo
kung pao chicken
with brown rice
dinuguan
filet mignon
toast with butter

For now it is hope
hope that it works
cures me of this
crazy, annoying thing
called sickness

Why?

Not coz I feel feverish
not coz I hate coughing
not coz I hate blowing
my nose of sticky
yellow snot

It’s ‘coz I have a kid
who can say
“I want to play with you, Daddy”
so freakin’ clearly
that it shatters my heart
into a million pieces
each and every millisecond
that I hesitate because
of my weakened condition

Gulp