A House Divided

What happens when you have one person who grew up in St. Louis and one person who grew up in Chicago who get married and live in St. Louis for 12 years and then move back to Chicago? A Cubs fan rooting for the Cardinals and then Cardinals fans rooting for the Cubs. A tragedy, I know. (Ok, Daddy didn't actually root for the Cardinals this year, but in past years he has.). Liana and Gigi proudly display a Cardinals banner in their room and are now shouting "Go Cubs!" Gah-koe wears his "Cardinal bird" shirt every chance he gets. He too shouts "Go Cubs!" (Though to be fair, during the NLDS he changed who he was rooting for daily). Mommy doesn't want the Mets to win, but also secretly wants the Cubs to win because she likes Back to the Future. So where does that leave me? I technically only lived in St. Louis for a year and a half (though there was a Cards World Series run during my time there) so when people ask me where I'm from, I'm not going to say St. Louis. I do love me some toasted ravioli and gooey butter cake, but Chicago style pizza is far superior to St. Louis style. Except for the provel. Provel, or "snake cheese" as our family calls it, is one of the best things to come out of St. Louis. If only...dare I say it...a Chicago style pizza with provel cheese! Could it be done? Is it complete sacrilege? Can you even get provel cheese in the Chicago area?

Ok, Aunt Louie and Uncle Sock, next time you visit us from St. Louis, you need to bring some provel cheese and we are doing it. Mom actually made a pretty rocking Chicago style pizza the other night for the game, so we have the crust covered--just need the cheese!

Anyway, back to baseball. I don't really care who wins. Most of the games are after my bedtime anyway, and the ones I am awake for I'm going to be a parrot and say whatever everyone else is saying. So, go Cubs!

That's not pizza on my face, just cookie butter, which is actually even better.

Hair! (Not the musical, the stuff growing out of my head)

I come from a family that takes pride in their hair.  My Captain Grandpa Howie has pictures of him with a fro that might put the Jackson 5 to shame.  Speaking of the Jackson 5, my Uncle Jack had big, fat, natural dreadlocks that turned many heads.  My Abba Scott had majestic, long flowing, curly hair that went down his back like a black waterfall trying to find a lake.  There is a picture of him after a hebrew musical production of  Hair where his hair looks massive and impressive.  I will try to find that picture to post.  Robin from camp thinks my dad has awesome hair.  That is the biggest compliment hair can get.  On the other side of my "hair" story is my Mommy-poopy.  She is no hair slouch herself.  She has found this really cool way to make her hair super curly by doing some wacky T-shirt origami thing with her head and when her hair comes out of it, it looks magnificent.  Liana has super thick flowing hair that looks nice in a braid and is easy for me to pull.  Gah-koe, as you can see documented in past posts, had some killer hair before it got cut off the first time when he was three.  I can tell he misses it.  Mommy keeps trying to let his hair grow back, but the grandmas keep stealing him and cutting it. Then there is Gillian whose hair is more golden than anyone else in the family.  I come from a family with great hair.  I would say that we are a hair beyond compare.

Then there is me.  Me and my hair.

To behold my head of hair is to look into the eye of a hairnado.  You can not look directly at my hair or you might go blind.  Albert Einstein and Tim Burton want hair styling tips from me.  My hair is real and it is spectacular.  Shakespeare would write a sonnet about my hair.  Prince was thinking of changing his name to a picture of my hair.  When I walk into a grocery store, all the angel hair pasta falls to the floor.

I have never seen another head of hair like mine.  Let me try to describe it to you.  My hair has never been cut.  When I come out of the shower, my hair is long and wavy.  It is cute, but most toddler hair is cute.  What happens next is awesome.  Watching my hair dry is a thing of magic.  You can see it recoil from its wet state to its dry state.  As it drys it goes up and out.  I develop a todjewfro, (a toddler jewish afro) of super tight bouncy curls that have a mind of their own.  I like to believe that it is the cutest head of hair since the Big Bang.  Not the Tv show mind you, the actual celestial event that created the potential of my hair to exist, and a lot of other things like Carbon, Nitrogen, and Gallium.  (BTW, Gallium is a metal that melts by body heat.  Now you know!)  If I go a day or two between showers, it becomes even more impressive.  It becomes a tight, interconnected hair complex. When I shower, the cycle starts all over again.

All this talking of hair has got me thinking of a favorite song of our fam.   We are big fans of the comedic YouTube duo of Rhett and Link.  Gah-koe might have mentioned their belly button song on here in the past.  It is worth a gander.  The video that I want to reference today is "My Hair Song."  It is an epic ode to hair that takes an unexpected turn.  You should watch it.  It is good.  Below the video are some pictures of my hair.  Be careful,  it it awesome.

It's pretty tame here, still wet from swimming.

My hair in all its glory.

An Amira a Day

My parents were getting nostalgic Monday night as they celebrated Walt Whitman Day (a random holiday made up by Dad and his college friends). As they were looking back through old Facebook posts about the holiday, they came upon Gah-koe's (Gah-koe is Asher for those of you unlearned in Amira-ese) defunct blog. They had so much fun reliving old memories, and since Gah-koe is so busy nowadays with half day kindergarten they decided I needed to continue the tradition so they would have more memories to relive in the future.

Really? I'm the baby of 4. You can't just give me a job. My only job is to be cute enough to be able to get away with not doing anything they want me to do and doing whatever I want instead.  It has been working out pretty awesomely so far. I've eaten GoGurt for two out of the three meals several days in a row. I call everyone by their name followed by "poopy." Mommy-poopy, Daddy-poopy, Gigi-poopy, etc. I watch as much Peppa Pig as I want.

I guess it might be worth a shot to try out this blogging thing though. These days, with all the siblings at school, I have plenty of time to contemplate--in between playing with trains (they are my babies), singing "Let It Go" (from the movie Let It Go, which is mistakenly called Frozen by everyone else), running around in circles with no pants on, etc.  I am like Pinocchio. No, I am not made of wood. Yes, I have no strings to hold me down.  

Gah-koe did a really great job with his blog until he cut his hair.  After that, the blog went downhill. I do not take any ownership of the sudden blog decay by being born. I see no correlation. Adding me to the picture must have given my parents significant extra time to proofread Gah-Koe's writing and do other things. I am excited that I can continue what my brother dropped the ball on. It is like when he drops some food on the floor and I go over and eat it. It makes me think I am a puppy. I think it would be fun to be a puppy. Puppies get to play and eat and sleep and do fun things all day. What if I was half baby/half puppy? Then I would be a buppy, the cutest thing in the WORLD! Wait. Sorry. I went off on a tangent. That seems to be an easy thing to do on this bloggy thing. That reminds me of the time that I started crying and screaming because... You know, I often scream and cry for no reason. It is just a fun game I like to play. I will pick some random task and just scream and cry until my parents guess what it is. I think it is a really fun game. Just last night I was playing this game at bed time wanting my dad, Abba Scott as I like to call him, to do a Gilbert Godfried impression while reading "Good Night Moon." For some reason, he did not interpret my screaming, yelling, and crying correctly and I just fell asleep waiting for him to guess correctly. I guess he won this round.  

Sorry, another tangent. I think I am going to enjoy this blog thing. For new people here, there are a lot of great posts from the past by Gah-Koe, Mommy-poopy, Abba Scott, Gigi, and the other one. Read some of them, they are good and fun.  

I Have Decided to Pass the Torch

Cousin Lee, Fans, Friends, Family,  I have returned.  I know I have been away from my post for a while.  I have been busy.  Since I last posted, I have become proficient at many things.  Talking, bike riding, playing with trains, legos, etc.  I do not want to say that I had forgotten about my sacred responsibility, but I had forgotten about my sacred responsibility.  I tried starting twitter, that failed.  I had a snap chat, that also failed.  Don't get me started on J Date.  Oy!  Needless to say, I left my public in a lurch.  The problem is, I am still too busy.  I am in half day kindergarten.  You would not believe the homework.

So this is my proposal.  My sister Amira, sits around the house all day doing nothing.  I want to expand her mind, help her reach the world.  I am giving her my blog.  She can have An Asher a Day.  I am not going to let her change the name in case I want it back.  So instead of learning about me and how awesome my life is, you will learn about Amira.  I do not know what she has in store, but it certainly will be something.  I will jump in every once and a while, but it will be her thing now. So, here begins the dawning of a new era.  Enjoy.

This is how Amira rolls.

Amira and her scarecrow.  Notice it is wearing underwear outside of its pants.  Amira's idea.

Me and Amira's scarecrow.  There is not a picture of the moment after where I yelled "Finish Him" and ripped the scarecrow in half and laughed.  No, that picture was not taken.

And Nosh Some Hamantaschen

Hamantaschen (or "cookies," as I call them) are a wondrous thing. Especially when your mom and sisters love you so much that they make Samoa-like hamantaschen (here's the recipe--easy and delicious)...and make them during the two-day snow day in which all six of us were stuck in the house. Amira almost didn't make it out of that experience, but we don't like to talk about that. Let's just say, one snow day is a beautiful thing. Two snow days is pushing it. At least we had Plants vs. Zombies to keep us busy. Many zombies were killed. Many brains were eaten. Many trains were thrown at my sisters' heads when it was not my turn on the computer.

But, back to Purim, that's what this post is supposed to be about. I think this was the first year that we all actually enjoyed it. Usually at least one of us is too scared by all the cheering for Mordecai and the booing for Haman and we end up sitting out in the hallway crying that it was too loud. This year was different because during the booing, a dude dressed up like Haman ran around the stage throwing candy at the kids. If projectile candy is involved, I can handle some booing.

I also discovered cotton candy at the Purim Carnival. You can read more about that on my Twitter feed (and become one of my followers while you're there!). My new-found addiction was supported by my bros Paul and Jordan (who are both my friends and sometime babysitters). They were running the snack table and since my parents wouldn't keep buying me more tickets, they were sneaking me contraband goods. They can babysit me any time they want. Just bring the cotton candy machine.

So, that's my take on Purim. Keep the candy flowing and make awesome 'taschen.

I finally wore my Emily costume! (I was also Spiderman.)

On a side note, my dad was cleaning out some boxes from his parents' house and found the program from his preschool graduation. Now we know why he can't spell--he never had a chance.

I'm like a bird...

Ladies and Gents, I have entered the land of Twitter.  And like a bird, I am tweeting a lot.  Problem is, no one is following me.  That is not really true, I have one follower.  I need more.  I thought with my new haircut and my new found zest for a life full of confusion and delay, the followers would flock to me like Justin Bieber who has 34643095 Beliebers or Lady Gaga who has 34239914 Li'l Monsters.  What about YouTube which has 23469118 followers and it is a website where people only watch train videos?  I am much cooler than YouTube.  Actually, YouTube is often mytube, so it is cool.  Follow away my friends, follow away.

Right now, the top ten twitter acounts are

1. Justin Bieber
2. Lady Gaga
3. Katy Perry
4. Rihanna
5. Barak Obama
6. Taylor Swift
7. Britney Spears
8. YouTube
9.  Shakira
10. Kim Kardashian

Twitter comes in at 14.

Now I do not need millions of followers, I am just a toddler.  I would like some.  Besides getting real time updates of my crazy antics, I am planning on starting a new brand in the Asher A Day family:  Asher's Train Tale of the Day (still working on the title).   I have acquired a substantial collection of trains.  They often have crazy antics and hilarity has been known to ensue.  Mom and Amira know what happens on my train table stays on my train table, but now the gag order has been lifted.  The sordid tales now can see the light of day.

Ever wonder what happened between Thomas and Lady after vanquishing Diesel 10?
Why does Henry need special coal?
And what's up with Sir Topham's Hatt?

So, come follow me. @AsherADay It will be awesome.

Making Adjustments

I have to say, 3 is turning out to be a pretty good year so far. My mane has been shorn, so I don't have the weight of all those curls slowing me down anymore--also, people haven't been calling me a girl quite as often. I have almost double the number of trains I used to have (thank you to relatives for my birthday and for craigslist)--they come with me everywhere I go in my special train basket. Plus, with the baby around, I can get away with pretty much whatever I want. Candy for breakfast? Mom's busy trying to feed Amira, make lunches and get the girls out to the bus. Thomas/train videos on YouTube? Mom's feeding Amira and falling asleep on the couch (I highly recommend all the videos by YouTube sensation leokimvideo). GoGurt and chocolate milk for lunch? Mom's working on the computer and feeding Amira. Basically, Amira is always eating, therefore always attached to Mom, therefore I can do whatever I want. And I know where Mom hides all the step stools, so I can reach anything and everything.

Of course, there are downsides to this newly found freedom. Mom always being attached to Amira means I don't get as much one-on-one attention as I used to. Remember, the girls (the big ones) are at school eight hours a day so it was Mommy-and-me time all day every day. I like to think I'm handling this in a mature way. When Mom's doing her work, I take piles of paper off her desk and throw them around the room. When Mom's feeding Amira, I get up in Amira's face and say how cute she is and then whack her in the head. In the late afternoon when I'm feeling especially neglected I take all my clothes off, yell "all naked," and run crazily around the house (this also usually involves peeing or pooping on the floor because they can't possibly expect me to use the potty with all these changes going on). At bedtime I like to lock myself out of my bedroom and then cry in the hallway as Mom tries to get the door unlocked. Also, many trains get thrown at many people's heads.  I think you can say I'm adjusting well.

So, with all this extra time on my hands for causing havoc, I would like to announce the opening of my Twitter feed. Yes, I found the Twitter. It will be awesome.

Contemplating my next move.