Eight month Anne-iversary

The stats: I'm just a plain old healthy little girl. I'm too big for my bouncy chair and big enough for a high chair. I'm too big for the baby carrier, but not big enough to sit facing forward. I'm big enough to aggravate my brother, but not big enough to play with him. And I fit perfectly in my mom's arms, but I never lie still.

Best friends: My brother, of course. I light up whenever he walks into the room. Now, for some reason or another, he doesn't seem to share the same enthusiasm for me. I've heard that Mark always says nice things about when I'm not around, but not so much when I show up near his toys. Despite the fact that he made a rule that he can play with any of my toys whenever he chooses, there doesn't seem to be reciprocation. He's constantly worried I'm going to grab his letters, his cars, his markers, his Presidential flash cards, his math game...actually, now that I think about it, a Presidential flash card would be pretty tasty. Mmmmm....presidential flash cards. Yum. I won't eat them. Maybe just gum them up for a little while. Mmmmm....

Enemies:  Can you even imagine what it would be like if bits of hard bone started erupting out of your body? What if you were just sitting there, minding your own business, laughing at a sock, when teeth started growing right out your hands or ears? Wouldn't feel too good, would it? Well, it doesn't feel much better coming out of your mouth. Trust me on this. I've got two on the bottom and a batch more popping out on the top. They hurt! So, sure, I cried. For like a minute or two. But that's a lot for me!

Favorite place: My favorite place is....right...over...there. No, wait. It's ... right ... over ... there. In fact, it's wherever I see somet

hing I can grab. (And I have some laser vision. I can spot a speck of paper at 500 yards.) So, my whole house is now my favorite place. I just slap my hands down on the ground and drag myself all over the room. Dad says it's not an official crawl because I don't lift up belly, but what does he know? He hasn't crawled in, like three centuries. He's really very old.

Things I like: I like to eat people's faces. One of my favorite people's faces to eat is my cousin, Hannah. Whenever I look at her I think: "That girl is adorable. I think I'll just grab her cheeks and munch on her nose." Hannah doesn't seem to understand why this is fun. She's quite terrified by it, actually. But do I let that stop me? No way!

Things I don't like:  As I mentioned before, laying still is generally pointless. I have places to go. And I don't care if I have to dive out of an adult's arms to get there. It doesn't matter to me if I'm having my diaper changed or my parents are dressing me. I don't even care if I don't know where I'm going. I just have to go! Right now!

Major accomplishments: I almost wave a little, which I think is hilarious. I babble, which I think is hilarious. I've worked out an incredibly high pitched scream, which I think is hilarious. I found a little girl who looks just like me in these big glass windows in the bathroom. I think that little girl is hilarious. 

Mark of Fridays: Cap'n Brush

The Captain says: "Brush your teeth, mateys! Always!"

Looking inside the Fridge

It's pretty safe to say that Matt has a very interesting, but very odd, profession. For instance, last Monday, Matt interviewed a man who says he was in World War I. If it checks out, this guy would be one of less than 10 WWI veterans left in the entire world (he's 103) and possibly one of two or three who saw actually combat.
Pretty big story, right?
That's nothing. Last Tuesday, Matt walked in to work and checked the fax machine.

"A Geneva dentist is restoring William 'Fridge' Perry's smile today. After 20 years of not seeing a dentist...The Fridge will be able once again to eat anything he wants and bite into apples with his front teeth. As he said 'I have waited for 20 years to fix my smile. ...Christmas will be extra special this year.'"

For those of you who don't know, The Fridge is sort of a Chicago icon. The big, friendly offensive lineman was on the 1985 Super Bowl champions, and inexplicably scored a touchdown in the Super Bowl rather than the immortal Walter Payton. Ditka never forgave himself.

So when Matt saw the press release, he wanted to turn away. He wanted to say, "With all the children starving in the world, do we really need to write about this guy? Are we really that obsessed with fat celebrities in this country?"

And yet, Matt - who's normally the police and courts reporter - was drawn to the story. These weirdo tales used to be Matt's specialty. Every day, his editor would pop up at his cubicle and ask something like:
- "Matt, I just heard there's a chicken running around on the West side. Can you chase that?" (That story included bonus facts - Chicken Nuggets.)
- "Matt, the new buffalo nickel is coming out this week, and the buffaloes at FermiLab are giving birth? Can you do a story about that?" (Although those might seem connected, trust Matt - they're not.)
- "Matt, a guy just shoved shrimp down his pants and ran out of a store. Do you have time?" (That one actually won an award!)

Matt eventually moved on to the blood and guts and murders of the police beat.
And yet... Matt somehow couldn't turn away from this Fridge story. The only explanation is that Matt was caught in the Fridge's gravitational pull. He is a big man, after all.

So Matt went over to the Geneva dentist's office where the Fridge was getting his new teeth. Now, it's important to note that the Fridge had NO TEETH before this. They had fallen out, been knocked out, or pulled out by the Fridge himself. And yet, having no teeth did not seem to slim down the Fridge. He is a big man, after all.

So, the dentist was busy screwing new teeth into a plate that had been surgically implanted in his jaw. It was disgusting. On top of that, two photographers and a reporter (Matt) are standing in this 8-by-10 office staring into Fridge's mouth. (No joke - a TV camera showed up later.)

Then, while the Fridge was getting his teeth screwed in, other people are bringing in footballs for him to sign. Between inserting incisors, he's writing "To Johnny and Tommy, The Fridge, TD, Super Bowl XX." The woman who designed his teeth brought her 8-year-old daughter to meet the Fridge. The little girl had no clue who he was, but at Mom's prompting she wished him a happy birthday. That's right, Mom wikipedia-ed The Fridge's birthday before making her 8-year-old daughter take a picture next to a giant's open mouth. The girl, undoubtedly scarred for life, probably assumed once all the Fridge's teeth were in, he would eat her. The Fridge is a big man, after all. Especially to 8-year-olds.

By the end, Matt felt a little bad for the Fridge, who was really a nice guy. Sure, he makes his money off his reputation (and he was getting free teeth), but that means he has to do whatever dance anyone wants him to. "Fridge, sign this." "Fridge, take a picture." "Fridge, gives us a thumbs up." He's a 400-pound puppet.

You can read what Matt ended up writing here, although Matt felt some of his best stuff got cut from the final version. But, hey, Matt's no dumb cookie. He can write, you will see. The others, they all learn from me.

Engagement photos: A picture of insecurity

Well, Lynne and Matt got their engagement pictures taken Saturday. Barely.
It was an epic struggle, a battle against the elements, a fight of Biblical proportions. All this because Matt is a huge, giant, humongous, tremendous geek. Nerd. Dweeb.

So, Lynne and Matt's wedding photographers are going to be Craig Watson and Sebastian Szyszka. Craig, pictured at right, is an award-winning staff photographer at the award-winning Beacon News. Together with Sebastian, they make up Organic photography. They're both brilliantly talented and really nice guys.

We point that out so you know the photographers were not the problem. No, the problem was Matt. Matt gets through life trying to slip into the background, unnoticed, untouched and unapproached, if possible. That's hard to do with two photographers documenting every move.

On top of that, these engagement photos are a big deal, right? They're a documentation of how Lynne and Matt looked at this time in their lives. They'll be sent to family. Hung above fireplaces. Carried in wallets. E-mailed to the President. Traded for a near mint 1957 Roy Campanella.

All of this means - although he'll steadfastly deny it - that Matt was a little nervous about the pictures. He just wanted them to turn out right. He wanted Lynne to be happy, the Seagos to be happy, the Hanleys to be happy.

So, getting ready that morning was a challenge. Matt looked in the mirror and what seemed pedestrian before now appeared grotesque. Matt's mind started racing:

"Okay, Matt, you've got to look good. These pictures will be with us forever. Wait, where did that pimple come from? Are people going to stare at that baby tooth that never fell out? Did I wait too long to shave? Did I shave too early? Is stubble cooler or less cool than a baby face? Is that cowlick ever, ever going to stand down? Matt! Pull it together! You're awesome. The ladies love you. You can do this. Is that a hair growing out of my bottom eyelid? C'mon!"

Overreacting? When you've seen pictures like these, you can understand why he might be concerned.



So, three bottles of hair gel, five tooth brushings and a two-week boycott of anything with poppy seeds (could get lodged in teeth) Matt was ready to go. Almost.

The hair was solid, literally. The teeth were shiny. The nose was deboogerfied. But there was still one major problem: Matt does not have a good smile. When he's smiling naturally because he's happy - maybe he finished the marathon or his story made the front page - then he looks OK. But when he has to pose a smile? Yikes.

In preparation, Matt spent some time going over his smile possibilities. You just wish he was joking.

Smile one: The traditional.

Chin out and big teeth, this smile is popular with first graders getting their class picture taken, politicians trying to convince senile people to vote for them and The Joker.

Advantages: Outside chance, in the right light, might actually look happy.

Downsides: Cheek creases. High levels of cheesiness.

Smile two: The no-teether.

Lips sealed and slightly grinning, this smile is the favorite of people with secrets and smug jerks.

Advantages: Hides small aircraft that are lodged in teeth. Decreases cheese by one factorial. Allows subject to carry hidden microfiche in mouth during photo shoot.

Downsides: Family members may disown you.

Smile three: The near smile.

This half-open, awkward smile is preferred by inmates getting their first mugshots taken, nerds and stroke victims.

Advantages: Easy to do. Natural.

Downsides: Family members may feel sorry for you.


Well, there's only so much you can do. Eventually, you're going to be late for the photo shoot. So, Lynne (who, by the way, looked beautiful and perfect - unfair!) and Matt headed out to Geneva, to a park along the Fox River. Craig picked out a little spot that had some interesting architecture, falls colors, water and - this is not a joke - a building labeled "Bear Cage". Matt and Lynne stayed out of there.

Matt always used to see these pictures and wonder how they get famous people to do such a crazy pose, like this. Now Matt knows. Nothing about the photo shoot feels normal, so you lose touch with reality. Lynne and Matt were out on a bike path with two cameras less than a foot from their faces. Since it's incredibly difficult to visualize how this is going to look, you just go along with whatever the photographer suggests.

Basically, Lynne and Matt were life-sized Barbie and Ken, giant props to be positioned next to walls, near gates, in front of pretty trees and - again, no joke - on a cement duck.

"Okay, kiss Lynne on her forehead." "Now put your right arm over her left eye." "Stand under that bush while Lynne dangles from the tree."

But when you see work like this or this, you know these guys know how to make good pictures. And the truth is Craig might have just been having some fun with Matt since he's made Craig go to prison, to burning houses and near police stand-offs for various newspaper stories.

But, as you might imagine, all of this did nothing to ease Matt's awkward smile. Everyone tells Matt: "Just wait until the wedding day. You're going to have to take a million pictures." True, Matt responds, but on that day he'll have just married this wonderful, fantastic, outkicking-his-coverage girl. The pressure will be off - smiling will be a breeze. Not so this Saturday.

Craig: "Matt, smile for real. Don't look right at the camera."

Matt, inside: C'mon Matt, you can do this. Pull it together, man. Focus.

"Matt, no cheesy smiles."

Too cheesy? That was my actual smile. If my actual smile is cheesy, what have I got left in the Smile Bank? Should I pull out the no teether? Are they ready for that?

"Matt, chill. This is fun. You love her. Smile."

Yeah, that's right. I love her. Focus on that. How can I smile so she knows how much I love her? I'm going to smile the beejeezus out of this picture.

"Matt, can you relax? The veins in your neck are sticking out."

Relax the neck. No cheese. Love. Not at the camera. Some teeth, not too much.

"Matt, you look like your face is melting."

This went on for two hours.

But of course, Lynne and Matt eventually, got some good images. (Or Craig and Sebastian just gave up.) All along, Lynne and Matt wanted an engagement photo that was different, fun and a little off the wall - like them. Matt felt too many of the engagement pictures - and he sees a lot of them in the paper every week - look more or less the same. Boy with hand on Girl's shoulder. Girl and Boy lying on bearskin rug. Boy and Girl sit on bench. Dull, dull, dull.

So Lynne and Matt tried to come up with something a little more fun. What do you think?

Matt thinks it turned out pretty nice. He'll be sure to mail one to you and your cement duck.