Shotgun Daddy

Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs

 If you have a child under ten, there's a pretty good chance that you've seen this movie.  Here's how things work in our family:

1. A children's movie is released.

2. We see the movie within 12 hours.

3. Before the movie begins we're treated to the coming attractions, advertising more children's movies that will be released in six months.

4. Eventually those movies are released.

5. Return to Step 1, repeat for the next ten years.

The sad truth of the matter is that a lot of these movies are disastrous and end up putting me to sleep within about twenty minutes.  Every once in a while, though, a movie arrives that lives up to my daughter's hype.  Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs is just that movie.

Now, I have to admit that I wasn't too excited to see this film.  The previews were full of food falling from the sky, and that just didn't make too much sense to me.  But then a funny thing happened.  It turned out the story wasn't really about meatballs and spaghetti and sardines -- it was about Flint, a young boy recovering from the loss of his mother, yearning for the respect of his father, and searching for his place in the world, all while falling in love with a beautiful girl.  

Isn't that the trick of most good movies, especially good children's movies?  While the kids are busy stuffing their cheeks with popcorn and laughing at giant Jell-O molds falling from the sky, their parents will be identifying with the main character's father issues, remembering when they first fell in love, and reminding themselves always to appreciate the accomplishments of their children, no matter how bizarre.

If you saw the film, you already know all this, but if you didn't (or even if you did), I've got good news for you: the DVD comes out today.  (I was lucky enough to get a copy last week, and the movie was just as good as we remembered it.)  So swing by your local video store and pick up a copy.  Tell 'em ShotgunDaddy sent you, and you just might get a discount!*

* In no way does the mentioning of the possibility of a discount imply a connection between ShotgunDaddy.com and your local video store.  No reasonable person should expect a discount simply for saying the words "ShotgunDaddy sent me!"  It is possible, however, that the employee at your local video store could make a mistake. For example, instead of ringing up $14.99, he or she might hit the 9 only once and charge you $1.49 instead, which would be pretty cool.  On the other hand, he or she might hit the 9 three times, charging you $149.99, which would not be cool.  In this instance, ShotgunDaddy.com is in no way responsible for any additional charges incurred.  We suggest that you pay attention at the register.

I Shop, Therefore I Am

I don't like to shop.  Big surprize, right?  Like a typical guy, if I need something, I go to the store, buy it, and go back home.  Simple.  It had been roughly a decade since I had gone to the store on my own and bought clothes for myself, so when the good folks at Marshalls and TJ Maxx sent me fifty dollars in gift cards with an offer to check out their stores, I thought it might be time to give shopping another chance.  Maybe, I thought, I had given it a bad rap.  Maybe, I thought, it wasn't that bad after all.  Maybe, I thought, I should shop.

 

And so on Saturday afternoon, when most respectable men were finishing up a round of golf, mowing the lawn, or building something with wood and dangerous power tools, I ventured into the twin jungles of Marshalls and TJ Maxx.

 

First stop: Marshalls.  It was immediately clear that Marshalls sells almost everything, but since I'm in desperate need of casual shirts, I went straight for the racks in the men's section.  Okay, here's my problem with shopping -- I have no problem picking out stuff I like, but I have absolutely no idea whether or not anyone else will like it.  You probably know people who are colorblind; I'm fashionblind.

 

The good news today, though, was that I had a consultant with me, someone who could guide me through the sea of choices, sometimes affirming my instincts and other times gently coaxing me in another direction.  I had someone who would make sure each garment I chose was on the cutting edge of fashion.

 

I had Kate, my four-year-old daughter.

 

Confident, I dove right in and pulled out a striped shirt.

 

"Oh, I like that one, Daddy!"

 

Success!  What were the odds that she'd like the first one I picked out?  Emboldened, I went for something flashier, something that pushed the boundaries of good taste.  Not dogs playing poker, but in the same ballpark.

 

"Oh, I like that one, Daddy!"

 

Really?  Hot damn, I was two for two!  Even so, I wanted to make sure that I had the two that I wanted, so I kept looking until I found these, a Hawaiian print for $12.99 and a more conservative plaid number for an insane $7.00.  How can you go wrong for seven dollars? 

 

And since I had a few bucks left on the gift card, I snapped up this sweet Lakers cap for $9.99.  Who said shopping was boring?

Satisfied with our purchases, Kate and I jumped back in the car and headed over to TJ Maxx to look for more of the same.  By now, Kate had a pretty good idea of what we were looking for.  As she perused the racks I heard her commenting on what she saw: "No, this one has long sleeves..." and "No, this one doesn't button down..."  I had a certified personal shopper on the payroll.  How could I go wrong?

 

I was looking for another Hawaiian print, but something a bit more subtle, so I chose this one:

 

And I chose another plaid variation, something with a bit more green in it:

Since both of these had $12.99 price tags -- what a bargain! -- we were done.  Kate approved of both so I was happy.

 

There was a near disaster, however.  As we stood in line waiting for the cashier, the woman in front of me turned around and eyed the two shirts dangling from the hangers in my hand.  This woman was eighty-five if she was a day, and her red-tinted hair was strangely reminiscent of Bozo the Clown.  Clearly, a woman with her finger on the pulse of fashion.  1940s fashion, but fashion nonetheless.  I nodded nervously, expecting her to say something about my adorable daughter.  Instead, she focused on the shirts and dropped a bomb:

 

"Oh, my!  Look at those two shirts you chose..."

 

Waiting, waiting...

 

"I just love them both!"

 

And there it was.  I thought I had come so far.  I thought I had done so well.  And with five simple little words, Bozo the Octogenarian had shattered my fashionista dreams.  An eighty-year-old woman (gulp!) loved my sense of style.  The horror!

 

But I must remember the big picture.  I may have taken a small step this weekend, but it was a giant leap for mankind.  Thanks to Marshalls and TJ Maxx, I had evolved.  To paraphrase the immortal words of Rocky Balboa, if I can shop, and you can shop... maybe we all can shop!

Off the Beaten Path

If you're like us, your kids are about to get out of school, and summer yawns before you, waiting to be filled with memories. You could spend a few thousand dollars to fly the whole family to the Bahamas, or you could do something more sensible, like taking a family road trip.  

When my wife and I were married ten summers ago, we spent our honeymoon driving from southern California to New Orleans, and as much fun as we had in Nawlins, getting there, as they say, was at least half the fun. We stopped in places we never would've planned a direct trip for. We drove long stretches of historic Route 66; tasted ice cream at the Blue Bell Creamery in Brenham, Texas; took the tour at the Tabasco factory on Avery Island in Lousiana; slept in a teepee at the Wigwam Motel in Arizona; and watched millions of bats fly out from beneath the Congress Avenue Bridge in Austin, Texas. Sure, if we had hopped a plane in LAX we could've gotten to Bourbon Street in about four hours, but just think what we would've missed. 

Road tripping is an American tradition, and if your kids are old enough to sit still (or young enough to sleep) for long stretches of open road driving, the good people at Reader's Digest have just the book for you. In Off the Beaten Path, they've put together a collection of travel destinations that might appeal to a family that wants to take an adventure without taking out a second mortgage.

The book describes more than a thousand scenic locations and points of interest, all divided by state to make your trip planning easier, and each entry includes an in-depth description complete with intuitive icons representing the different amenities available, ranging from picnicking to campfires to WiFi access. As for the variety of locations, the book's title tells you all you need to know. You won't find anything about the Grand Canyon, Fisherman's Wharf, or Mount Rushmore, but a random flip through the pages gives you a peek at the SPAM Museum in Austin, Minnesota; Snake River Wine Country in Idaho; the Willa Cather Pioneer Memorial in Red Cloud, Nebraska; and dozens of state and national parks.

As odd as it might seem, the best thing about this book is that it is still a book. In an age when trips are planned with a few clicks of the mouse, there is something comforting about curling up on the couch and flipping through the pages, looking at places you might visit someday and others you never will. With each turn of the page you imagine yourself and your family in the picture making memories that will last a lifetime.

WAT-AAH!

I know what you're thinking, believe me, I do. At this stage in the game, when we've got about seventeen thousand different varieties of flavored water, filtered water, vitamin-enhanced water, and brought-down-to-Earth-by-aliens water, why in the world would we ever need yet another version of that which already flows freely from our faucets? 

Well, without commenting on the water industry in general, let me tell you this: my kids absolutely love Wat-Aah! Wat-Aah! is the creation of Rose Cameron, a mother who was tired of watching her children pour colorized sugar water down their throats all day long. She knew water would be better for them, but she also knew they thought it was boring. (For the full story, check out the Wat-Aah! website, DrinkWataah.com.)

 

Anyway, the good people at Wat-Aah! were nice enough to send me a few samples so I could run a simple test. The idea was that I would put a couple bottles in the refrigerator next to some soda or Gatorade and see what my kids would pick. It was a nice idea in theory, except for one problem. They never made it to the fridge. My kids descended as soon as I opened the package, and the bottles were gone. As pictured above, my daughter grabbed one to take to her basketball game, and she definitely preferred it to Gatorade. 

 

The only bad news I can see in this whole thing is that even though Wat-Aah! is currently available in twenty-eight states, you still can't buy it in California, which is a drag. (If you're lucky enough to live in NYC, you can get it almost anywhere, but if you live anywhere west of the Mississippi, you'll have to order it from Amazon.com.) 

 

But please try it -- I know you and your kids will love it.