Marrying Up

Larry recently commented on my Easter post and said that he and I had both married out of our league. He's right. We both did. This picture was taken on the last day of the summer of 1995, when Jen and I began dating. It sits in my office as a constant reminder of the mess that rolled into camp that summer (me) and the gem that he rolled into (Jen) and the incredible grace it took on her part to reach down and date, let alone marry, the little boy lost that was Drew Forster at that time in my life.

But that comment gives rise to a theory that I've held for a while and what better place to float theories for acceptance or severe public humiliation than my (sometimes sleeping) blog.

So here goes -- Drew's Theory on Marriage & Gender.

It is impossible for a man to marry down. A man always marries up, always gets more in a wife than he deserves. If this is true, the reverse must also be true, that it is the rare occurrence, if ever that a woman marries up. If the theory is true, a woman always stoops, always marries down.

So to Larry's comment, it is not possible to make the statement: "She married out of her league" because social status and physical appearance and all of the superficial elements aside, we as guys never deserve the woman we get to spend the rest of our lives with. That's what the rest of our life is about, trying to live up to the standard of the woman we proposed to. Why do you think we kneel down to do it?

So the theory's out there. Look forward to your comments on it.

Little girls in Easter dresses

Ok, so I know it's not exactly a full-fledged post and that I've been derilect with my posting lately, but come on, who can resist little girls in Easter dresses? Not to mention the knockout in the middle.

This pic was taken in my parents' backyard in Alexandria, VA where we spent a fantastic Easter weekend. We had a great time. Sydney is quite the intrepid egg hunter, it turns out.

Honda Oddity

I never really get this. This Honda Odyssey has been parked near my office lately. I don't get it how people choose to drive a family vehicle and then decide to go with the body kit, rims and a spoiler on it. I guess if you're a boy racer who all of a sudden finds himself a boy's father, you might have to make this kind of compromise, but it just cracks me up anyway. What's the message, "Hey, soccer mom, I could pick up groceries in this whip or I could blow you off the line."?

Wonder what the stroller looks like that they pull out of the back of this thing.

Come on Ride the Train

So we were at Riley's school's Spring fundraiser the other day. It was a luau and auction. We had a lot of fun and if we'd had about $300 extra dollars just lying around, could have had box seats for an upcoming Sox-Yankees game.

There was food and dancing for the kids. One of the moms, who we've known in town for a while, was playing DJ. She did a great job and really got the kids engaged all night long. At the end of the night, she announced "Ok, kids, we have one more song we're going to do. How many of you know how to do the Pahty Train?" With her hardcore Massachusetts accent, she had unwittingly turned the word party into potty. And if she said it once, she said it a dozen times. A lot of the parents picked up on it and were looking around smiling and chuckling to ourselves. You'd think as the parent of a 5-year old and a 3-year old, she might have realized what it sounded like she was saying, but she never did. So she turned on the song and the kids dutifully lined up and made a train around the room. It was as disorganized as you'd expect a bunch of pre-schoolers to be, but it was cute and they're learning much needed party skills for later in life.

As we walked out to the car, Riley was commenting on what a fun night it was (I think the direct quote was "the funnest night of my whole life"). We asked her, "Riley, what was your favorite part of the night?" To which Riley answered completely straightfaced, "The train part, you know with the toilet thing."

Instant classic.