Tag: nostalgia

I always forget there are four NBA teams in California

~ dannyhong ~ Leave a comment

While scrolling through some sports headlines, I saw one that stated that the Sacramento Kings had landed DeMar DeRozan, for three years and $74M dollars.  My first thought was simply, oh yeah, the Sacramento Kings are an NBA team.

I simply had forgotten that they existed.

It occurred to me then, that pretty much at no point in my entire sports fan life, have I ever really been able to immediately recall that there are four NBA teams in the state of California.  The Lakers are easy to remember, the Clippers are easy to remember as the team that isn’t the Lakers, but at varying points in my life, I always forget about one of the teams between the Warriors and the Kings.

Usually it correlates with which one of them sucks because sucky teams are easy to lose track of, but one of my friends recently reminded me that it was the Kings that actually eliminated the Warriors from this past year’s playoffs, but it didn’t really matter because they had been living in the shadow of the Warriors for so long now, that they’re still basically an invisible market.

Back to the original point though, I like DeRozan as a player, but the fact that he’s going to the Kings, it’s a good thing that he’s getting paid a fat contract, because he’s definitely going to be an invisible player for the next three seasons, barring any opt-out clauses or drama-filled trade sagas that could occur along the way.  Because the Warriors still have a few years left in the tank before they really start to suck, and until Steph Curry hangs up his shoes, the Warriors are always going to be relevant, and there simply isn’t going to be any room for any awareness for the Kings short of a breakout star and/or deep playoff run.

It’s funny though, because as long as I’d been paying attention to basketball, I can definitely recall the years where the Kings were the kings, and the Warriors were invisible, and when the Warriors were pretending to be Ultimate and the Kings ceased to exist.

When I first really got into basketball, the Warriors were the good team because they had the Run TMC backcourt of Tim Hardaway, Mitch Richmond and Chris Mullin which was fun, fast and exciting to watch.  Although the Warriors were still a fringe team, they were exciting, while I didn’t even know where in the country Sacramento was at that age.

Eventually, as is inevitable in the world of sports, the Warriors would eventually become the laughing stock of the NBA, winning 19-28 games a season, years after Run TMC and trading Mitch Richmond and Chris Webber away.  And it would be Chris Webber who would transform the Kings into contenders, and teamed up with guys like Mike Bibby, Peja Stojakovic and Vlade Divac, the team would really challenge the league, and if not for existing at the same time as a prime Kobe/Shaq Lakers squad that had Robert Horry on it, they probably could’ve won a championship and really put Sacramento on the map for good.

But that window of contention would eventually close, and the Warriors would draft Steph Curry, Klay Thompson and Draymond Green, pick up Andre Iguodala, hire Steve Kerr as head coach, and the rest is history.  The Warriors would go on to become one of the greatest squads in history, making the Finals an absurd amount of times, winning multiple ships, and putting their stamp on the record books, both team and individual.  It’s safe to say that the Splash Bros changed the entire game, and the influence is palpable with ballers all over the world flinging three-pointers like it’s the only option on the court.

Meanwhile, the Kings have taken the backseat once again, and whenever the topic of the NBA comes up, I always have to stutter and stall whenever the obscure trivia comes up of, name all four NBA franchises in California, because I simply forgot they fucking existed.  Sure, they’re on the rise again, but we’re reading a pivotal point in the timeline of the modern NBA, where it could really go either way, whether the Warriors make all the right moves and climb back up the standings of contenders, or they slowly begin their ride into the sunset as Steph winds his career down, while the Kings capitalize on draft picks and acquisitions like DeRozan.

And five years from now, who will be the contender, and who will be the forgotten fourth team in California?  I don’t know, but what I do know is that whomever is the shitty team then, is the team that I’ll definitely forget exists.

The world no longer has the greatest living center alive

~ dannyhong ~ Leave a comment

RIP: Bill Walton passes away at the age of 71

I don’t even remember who preceded Bill Walton on the NBA on NBC broadcasts throughout the 90s, but when I had really gotten into basketball, my memories of watching hoops always had the voice of Marv Albert and someone else in it.  Maybe it was Paul Westphal or Doug Collins, I don’t remember, but what I do remember is when Bill Walton joined Marv Albert behind the desk, and the two of them commentated on some of the greatest games of basketball I’ve ever watched.

I didn’t know really anything about Bill Walton when he took over the broadcasting duties, except for the fact that he was a former NBA player from yesteryear.  I didn’t know that he was some beatnik hippie player who played for the Portland Trailblazers and the Boston Celtics, and I frankly didn’t know anything about his career, playstyle or any remote idea of his general numbers.  The internet didn’t really exist then, much less have an online database where I can satiate any curiosity of any player of any time in history these days.

Honestly, at first, I found Walton to be kind of obnoxious, from his nasal-ey voice, tendency to go off on tangents about things that weren’t basketball, and inject a little too much opinion and editorial into his commentating style.  I didn’t need to hear about the famines in Sri Lanka, while I’m sitting at the edge of my seat watching Patrick Ewing trying to come out victorious over the Indiana Pacers.  I didn’t need to hear about how he was happier being the greatest sixth man ever for the Celtics instead of being the star in Portland when I was amped up watching Anfernee Hardaway prepare for some last second heroics against the Hakeem Olajuwon and the Houston Rockets.

But as the years passed, the sound of Bill Walton grew into a familiar comfort, and as I grew older and my general brain began to expand, the things he would drone on and on about during the span of a basketball game became entertaining.  Especially when while he was doing it, Marv Albert was being the studious straight man calling the action to the book, along with his iconic YESSSS calls whenever Michael Jordan drilled a fadeaway in John Starks’ face.

One of my favorite Bill Walton cliches, before the phrase meme even came into existence, were all the times throughout the decade where Walton would make remarks or insinuations that he was a better center than Shaquille O’Neal.  Which was laughable, considering Walton was a lanky white guy who excelled at set play team basketball while Shaq was probably the single greatest dominating physical force in the history of the game, but it never stopped old Bill Walton from trying to hint that he was always a better player than him, mostly because of his superior free throw percentage and ability to pass the ball.

My friends and I would often do bad impressions of Bill Walton whenever we talked hoops, and it always boiled down to a caricature quote of him saying:

I know a better center than Shaq.  Me.

Oh and how we ended up loving Bill Walton in the end.  Eventually, NBC would foolishly lose the license to the NBA, and it would be quite some time before Bill Walton would be back in the booth with any regularity, and by then, I had already long phased out of my love for hoops, the NBA and having time in general to watch basketball.

But I have memories as recent as just a few years ago, of where Bill Walton was doing some guest commentary during a college basketball game, and in true classic Bill Walton, the man would just not shut the fuck up about topics that had to do with anything other than basketball, like some of the turmoil going on in Syria or some other third world country.  The guy doing the play-by-play was probably getting annoyed, but I definitely was enjoying it the whole time, because despite the fact that time had aged and eroded Bill Walton physically, he was still the same beatnik underneath it all, and his past basketball accolades always got him in the door to be on television to talk about absolutely anything but basketball; during basketball games.

At 71 years of age, the man had lived a fairly full life, close to general life expectancy.  Probably a lot of the psychedelic drugs he did as a devout Dead Head probably shaved a few years off, but it’s probably hard to argue that he didn’t live his life to the fullest.  It does make me sad to learn that the greatest living center is no longer among us, and he clearly impacted my life to the point where his passing warrants a post in the brog.

Happy trails, Bill Walton – you certainly were a better center than Shaq was, at quite a few things.

X-Men ’97: the speedrun for those with ADHD

~ dannyhong ~ Leave a comment

I just finished watching X-Men ’97 on Disney+ and hoo boy do I have a lot of opinions.  I don’t quite really know specifically where I stand on it on how good I thought it was, but this is where I’m hoping that writing out my thoughts might help me come to a conclusion.

This is also where I disclaim that there is the possibility that I give some things away by virtue of feeling unable to avoid specificity but hopefully I don’t, but it’s not like I have any readers at all, so this is just old habit of trying to be courteous when I really don’t have to be.

1.
First of all, regardless of where I land on my overall opinion, one thing is very clear in my opinion: the show operated at a breakneck pace, and there was basically no time to breathe throughout the season as the show went from storyline into the next into the next and into the next without any pauses in the action, minus one specific Jubilee mini-arc.

The show tackled numerous actual storylines that I could recall from the days when I was a massive X-Men reader, but it was almost laughable at just how little time was dedicated to what were epic arcs in the comics, rendered to literally 5-6 minutes in the show.  Like for example Inferno, with Madelyne Pryor becoming the Goblin Queen; this was an epic event that transcended the X-universe and even bled into other Marvel properties, but in X97, Inferno literally starts and ends within a ten minute window, leaving me with this great big feeling of, wtf.

One of the most iconic moments from the Fatal Attractions storyline was tucked into one of the last episodes of the season, and given the sheer lack of context and time given to everything else, honestly probably didn’t even need to occur, but by this point of the show, they were clearly so determined to cram in as many X-storylines as possible and using as little airtime as possible to do so, so here we went.

The best way I would describe X97 is exactly what the title of this post is – it’s X-Men comics presented in a medium that caters to those most likely with ADHD and are incapable of sitting through multiple seasons worth of storytelling to get around several epic story arcs when they can all be crammed into the confines of a ten-episode season.  I used to think that when I was a kid, I probably was an undiagnosed ADD kid because of my sheer struggles to pay attention and listen and follow directions, but after watching X97, I don’t really think that that could’ve been the case.

2.
The X-Men, and mutants in general seemed to have been nerfed as fuck throughout this show.  All throughout the season, mutants were getting their asses handed to them by humans that had Sentinel tech, as well as Sentinels themselves, in contrast to the original 1992 series where Sentinels were about as capable as the Putty Patrol from Power Rangers at neutralizing their intended targets.

Continue reading “X-Men ’97: the speedrun for those with ADHD” →

Oh the sweet irony

~ dannyhong ~ Leave a comment

lol’d heartily: Joel Embiid expresses disappointment at Knicks fans taking over the Sixers’ Wells Fargo Center during the Knicks’ playoff win

Fewer things in sports are as awe-inspiring as a stadium takeover.  It’s nigh impossible to get sports fans to ever come together and be in complete solidarity at home, much less take the act on the road, but there have been instances throughout the history of sport where the planets align, the stars are in the right position and people manage to get on the same page, and embark on taking over stadiums, be it their own, and even more rarely, someone else’s.

Once there was a year where the Braves were not good and the visiting Chicago Cubs were having a strong season.  I remember watching the game on television, and noticing that the crowd was particularly hot that night, where the usually apathetic Atlanta fans were cheering for every single and strikeout, and there was a lot of booing whenever the Cubs did anything good for themselves.  But reality came catching up and eventually the Cubs took the lead and cruised to a relatively easy victory, but not before chasing off Braves fans, basically taking over Turner Field, and I remember seeing one shot of a large group of fans in the nosebleeds unfurling a banner that said “Wrigley South.”

It was fucking embarrassing.

There was a stretch where the Pittsburgh Penguins systematically eliminated the Washington Capitals from the NHL playoffs for 800 years in a row.  The greatest player in the history of the game since Gretzky, Alexander Ovechkin for whatever reason, couldn’t lead a DC team over the Penguins, and there was one specific year where Penguins fans trekked down to DC and really rub it into the face of Caps fans, and although they didn’t take over the USAir MCI Verizon Whatever the fuck they call it Arena now, they definitely didn’t make haste in getting out of town after the Penguins eliminated the Caps yet again.

Partying in the streets, congregating all over DC’s numerous landmarks in Penguins gear, basically marking their territory all over the city; it was fucking embarrassing.

The poor Baltimore Orioles, there was a stretch where they were woefully bad year in and year out, and eventually word got out to just about every team off of I-95, and Camden Yards was invaded countless times.  The Phillies, Yankees and Red Sox have taken over their stadium a bunch of times, and even the Nationals down the street have gathered en masse in their lovely ballpark.  They’ve been proclaimed to be Yankee Stadium South and Fenway South more times than they should’ve been. 

I’ve actually been there for a Nationals take over and a Yankee takeover.  One man I spoke with explained to me that it was cheaper to drive his family of four down to Baltimore from New York, the cost of tickets, food and lodging, than it would’ve been for decent seats at Yankee Stadium.  That fact, as well as getting taken over as repeatedly as they have been: fucking embarrassing.

But circling back to the Phillies, there was one year in particular that stands out, where Phillies fans absolutely took the fuck over at Nationals Park for the season opener.  I remember reading about it in the aftermath, how a really popular Philly sports website arranged the whole thing, and exploited a ticketing snafu that gave large groups priority when purchasing tickets, and the result was a Nationals home game that was easily 65%+ Phillies fans, where all the home players were booed out of the building, and Roy Halladay absolutely shut them down.

I knew several friends who were at the game, and unsurprisingly, it was one of the worst game experiences they’d ever had.  All the same, it was, fucking embarrassing.

And as far as I’m concerned, Philly kind of reinvented the idea of stadium takeovers.  After Occupy Nationals Park, it became almost like something that Philly sports fans would do anywhere else they could get away with it.  As mentioned, they weren’t shy about pulling the same act on the Orioles, but they’ve also attempted it on the Baltimore Ravens in the seasons in which the Eagles had them on the road.

The New York and Pittsburgh sport scenes are a little more prideful to allow such to happen, but as the pattern seems to be, just like everyone in Westeros, everyone marches south.

Which brings us back to the original topic, it’s sweet irony at its finest that not only did a Philadelphia sports team get invaded, the players definitely noticed, as Joel Embiid took the time to “I love them but” and basically throw them under the bus for not showing up to support the team, in the playoffs no less, and allowing for all the Knicks fans to take over their home court.

After the NLDS choke against the Phillies last year, I basically threw in the towel and resigned that Philly definitely is a sports town worthy of respect, for the innovative culture and brand they’ve built where players want to throw themselves into moving traffic for the fans, but then they have to and act like shitty fairweather fans who clearly have taken the 76ers for granted, the Process for granted and have collectively prioritized Eagles football and Phillies baseball over their basketball franchise.

And getting the stuffing beat out of them by the Knicks, of all the teams in the league.  The Knicks haven’t been relevant since Patrick Ewing was still on team, and I don’t say that just to be snarky, in the footage I’d seen of the takeover, the #1 jersey still seen being worn by most of these fans, is #33 Ewing.

The Knicks suck, but the Sixers and the city of Philadelphia are allowing them and their fans to have a genuine W, before they’ll inevitably choke and make this whole playoff run feel all for naught.

How fucking embarrassing.

Happy trails, Virgil

~ dannyhong ~ Leave a comment

Lonely no more: Mike Jones, better known as former WWE wrestler, Virgil, passes away at the age of 61

I know it seems like every single wrestler from yesteryear that passes away was a favorite of mine in some way shape or fashion, and after twenty years of brogging, there’s no shortage of wrestler eulogies that I’ve written in my own way, at this point.

But Virgil, this guy, was truly a guy that I can’t say was necessarily a favorite of mine, but he was something of an icon in his own way, that I was fixated with, pretty much from the time I learned of his existence until the day he passed.

When I first got into wrestling, a lot of it had to do with the fact that I actually got into a WWF video game first, the arcade version of WWF Superstars, before I actually parlayed it into indulging in the real life variant of the game on television, into the life-long fandom that still maintain today. 

In the game, the final bosses were the tag team of “Million Dollar Man” Ted DiBiase and Andre the Giant; but before you actually started playing against them, there’s like a 12-second cutscene prior to the match where you see “Mean Gene” Okerlund interviewing both DiBiase and Andre, but also standing with them was a jacked black guy in a shiny tuxedo counting money.

When I started watching wrestling, and the first time I laid eyes on the real-life Million Dollar Man, sure enough, there was the same jacked black guy accompanying him, holding the money, and that was when I first learned of the existence of the real-life Virgil.

Little did I know that he was named Virgil, as a personal attack from Vince McMahon to rival promoter/booker/wrestler Dusty Rhodes, whose real name was actually Virgil, and in only a manner that could come from Vince McMahon, he slapped basically a slave persona onto a black man and called him Virgil.

But throughout the years, it became quickly apparent that despite Virgil’s imposing stature and menacing scowl, he was tantamount to the WWF’s punching bag to the stars, and in just a few short years of getting into wrestling, I’d seen Virgil get his ass beat by Hulk Hogan, the Ultimate Warrior, Macho Man Randy Savage, and Hacksaw Jim Duggan among others.  He was a jobber before I even knew what a jobber was, a term I wouldn’t learn until like 12 years later.

Continue reading “Happy trails, Virgil” →

A 2023 Year-End Post

~ dannyhong ~ Leave a comment

In spite of all the changes to my general writing habits, one thing I always feel compelled to write about is the end of the year post, even if I have an inkling of knowing that it’s going to be pretty mundane, if not kind of depressing.  It’s something I’ve done for years, and old habits die hard, and in this case, it’s a habit that’s not necessarily bad, as much as it is just writing with the hopes of being able to reflect and contemplate life in general, and maybe I’ll recognize some patterns or observations to possibly improve my standing in life.

But mundane and kind of depressing are a fairly accurate way to describe how 2023 was for me.  This isn’t to say that I thought it sucked by any stretch of the imagination, there were definitely a lot of positive things that occurred throughout the year.  It’s just that we as people tend to dwell more on the negative things that upset us or make us unhappy and it truly is a case of what have you done for me lately, life, huh?? kind of attitude.

As has been the case since becoming a parent, twice, and living through the pandemic, I’ve made my general world a really, really small place.  Being a dad and parenting comes ahead of absolutely everything else in the world, and considering the immense amount of, capacity, it requires to raise two toddlers, I barely have any time on a daily basis for myself, and so often times I try not to dwell on just how much shit I have to punt on, on a daily basis because there’s just not enough hours in the day to accomplish everything on top of being a parent.

My daily routine has mostly maintained the same course over the last three years, and I’m always the first one up in order to make breakfast for the kids and be ready for them in the mornings, and most every minute upon my arrival back from the office or the end of my work day is spent with my children, until they go to bed at around 7-8, and then I do a bunch of daily chores to reset the house and prepare for the next day, and when I’m done with that, then maybe I’ll have an hour, maybe two, depending on if I want to forfeit some sleep, in order to have some personal downtime, which has its own pressure in not wanting to squander it, and a feeling of failure if I do.

I don’t have the capacity to dick around on the internet as much as I used to, and look up news and stories from around the world, the state, or even my own city, to have inspiration to write about, and even if I do have the inspiration, I don’t have the time to write about it.  If I earmark it for later, it stands a good chance to not happen, because the knee-jerk reactions that fuel lots of writing don’t exist after too much time passes.

Among the numerous self-imposed writing exercises I put onto myself, I keep a living document that tries to summarize every single day of the year.  In the past, I would jot down some interesting news that might have happened on X day, or a sports occurrence that happened on Y day, or tragic news of a shooting that occurred on Z day, but I generally had this belief that something, somewhere, was interesting stuff happening, on every single day, and it was my way of trying to capture all some of it.

But then COVID hit at the same time I had a kid, and my world became extremely small.  Even though the worst of the pandemic has passed and my kids are getting older, my world hasn’t expanded back out that much, and my general daily summaries are usually along the lines of me being agitated about something, usually parenting related, things my kids did, occasional sports or wrestling observations, but for the most part, a very sparse well of topics that I’ve had the capacity to summarize on a daily basis.

If it sounds depressing, it’s because I’ve come to the admission that I probably am depressed, possibly on a clinical level.  As in the chemicals in my brain are wacked out, causing me to feel apathetic, disinterested in everything, unmotivated to do the things that I generally enjoy and other activities.  The thing is, I feel like I know what’s causing the depression, and it isn’t just solely a chemical imbalance, so I don’t necessarily feel like medical intervention is necessary. 

Throughout my life, there’s been a direct correlation with my emotional state and my financial wellbeing, and the fact of the matter is that I haven’t felt financially comfortable in like three years, and I don’t know how to fix any of it, so it leaves me feeling despair often, and I’m pretty sure that’s the root of my depression.

Like if I were to go on some sort of anti-depressants, sure that might make me feel like I’m not so stressed or sad anymore, but no medication is going to magically make my financial woes go away, so I’ve never felt like I should see anyone to try and see what’s up.  Also, my medical insurance at my job throughout 2023 has been absolute hot garbage, but I’m going on mythical wife’s medical for 2024 which is way better, so perhaps I should swallow my pride and look into getting checked out, because living the way I have been living throughout the last few years probably hasn’t been the best for all parties involved.

But like I said, there was also a lot of good stuff that occurred throughout the year, even if I’m a headcase for more days of it than not.  My family went on a bunch of Disney trips that were brutally expensive for sure, but rewarding in their own rights.  Cruising out of New Orleans was great, visiting Hilton Head was pleasant, and trying a bunch of new restaurants at Disney properties were all good, and my kids seemed to enjoy a lot of it, and that’s what really matters.

One of my closest friends got married in Vegas, and I didn’t hesitate to go out there and bear witness, and my company sent me out to Los Angeles for the Adobe MAX conference, which was the coolest work trip I’ve ever been to in my career.

Most importantly, as much as they sometimes drive me crazy with their roller coaster of toddler emotions, watching my kids grow throughout the year is always a wondrous sight of seeing them develop, physically and intellectually.  Both my girls have demonstrated a ton of intelligence, and sometimes I just stop and watch them while they eat, play, read or just simply exist, and three years into the journey, I remind myself of how unbelievable it still feels that I’m a dad.

So, much like my emotional state throughout the year, this year’s end post goes up and goes down, like a roller coaster.  There may be plenty of days in which I’m burnt out, worried as fuck about finances, or in need of a good anxiety outlet, but there are no days where I don’t have love for my family and children and friends, no matter what is believed to be on my exterior.

Overall, I do not feel that 2023 was a poor year, and at the same time, I hope that 2024 and beyond is better.  Because why shouldn’t anyone not hope that the next day is better than the one before it? 

Dad Brog (#127): Purging and inevitability

~ dannyhong ~ Leave a comment

Over the last few weeks, be it because of needing to clean for hosting, needing to clean just to free up space, or needing to clean because sometimes I come home and want to blow my brains out because it feels like my house is a sneeze away from becoming a subject on an episode of Hoarders, my house has been doing some purging. 

Mostly baby related things that we’re long past needing anymore, and although there’s a tremendous amount of relief whenever we manage to unload a piece of furniture, or a large item, or a box full of clothes, toys or other kid-related things that have long since been outgrown, upon reflection, it’s still bittersweet and inevitable that it would not go unnoticed by me that things that were once mainstays of when our kids were babies and infants, are now no longer part of the home, symbolic of the passage of time and that my kids are growing up.

In the past, I would just drop all these types of stuff off at the local Goodwill, get a donation receipt, and claim as much as possible for tax purposes, but as I’ve learned over the last few years, unless I donated like, my entire home, donations hardly have any effect, if any effect at all on one’s tax refunds, so my thinking lately has been, if I’m getting rid of stuff, I’d prefer them to go to people whom might actually need them for their intended purposes, and not end up getting thrown out by a charitable corporation.

However in spite of the altruistic intentions, fewer things is as maddeningly frustrating than the process of trying to give shit away.  I mean, the stuff is absolutely free with zero strings attached, but it also works against the givers, because of the zero money involved in the transactions, receivers also feel no real obligation to come receive, and the flake percentage is higher than Shaq’s chances at missing a free throw.

But that’s beside the point, the point of this post is that in all the purging we’ve been doing, I recognize the fact that we’re getting rid of some pretty substantial thing in my home’s history over the last 3+ years at this point, with two notable things that are at the forefront of my mind when reflecting over this recent purge. 

Since #1 was born, we had a bottle sterilizer that lived on the kitchen counter for over three years at this point.  When we had a second kid, we actually came upon a second one, courtesy of the manufacturer, sent to mythical wife when she was making videos on YouTube.  But having two kids raised on breast milk, we needed these sterilizers a lot, multiple times a day at the heyday of having a newborn and an infant at the same time.

And they lived on the counter, 24/7 for years.  Eventually we got rid of one, and I was glad to give it to a colleague who was having her first kid ever, because I know how great I loved having the sterilizer early on, to ensure that my kid’s bottles were as clean as could be, but the thing is, they were always there.

No matter how disastrous the residents of my home clutter up the counter and make me want to jump off a cliff sometimes, whenever it is eventually cleaned up, the sterilizer stayed.  Everything worked around the position of the sterilizer and at least once a day, it was running, cleaning bottles and other sterilizer-friendly kid bowls or cups or utensils.  It was a mainstay of the home.

Well, it’s gone now.  Mythical wife has gotten on yet another Great British Baking Show kick again and this time, it’s manifested into actual desire to bake, and when she gets on a kick, she goes full retard and now we’ve got a brand new Kitchen Aid jesus mixer that everyone who bakes loses their shit over, and being the less sentimental between the two of us, she didn’t hesitate to jettison the sterilizer from the counter, seeing as how the kids are using cups that really need to be sterilized, especially since they’re drinking regular cow’s milk from them, long past the days of breast milk.

And the counter still looks weird to me sometimes, not seeing the giant white box underneath the cupboard anymore.  But we didn’t need it, and it was off to the charity pile for it, and it was picked up by someone that allegedly had a five month old, and hopefully they’ll get great use out of it as my household did.

And next we have the high chair(s).  Despite the fact that my kids could still very well use them, they, and really I mean #1, but then #2 has to do everything that her big sister does, has gotten into that stage in her life where she’s clearly three going on 18, and refuses to sit in high chairs and boosters, and will lose her shit at even the notion of being denigrated into sitting into a baby’s seat.

The thing is too, I eventually grew to hate the last high chair we had, because the legs were spread so far out to give it as wide as base as possible to be safer from tipping over than any other high chair, but it actually took up more surface area than it appeared to, and when it was used regularly, not a day went by where someone didn’t trip over the ultra-wide standing legs because it didn’t look like it was that space-consuming.  I fucking hated when I was the victim of it, and when the kids spurned the high chairs in general, it sat in a corner where it could do the least bit of tripping.

Well, it’s gone now.  Along with our old transitioning high chair/booster seat, because my kids refuse to use that one too.  And just like that, my breakfast nook has gone from having boosters and high chairs displacing the normal chair(s) against the wall or absconded by mythical wife into her office that already has multiple chairs in it already, we’ve got a table with four ordinary, regular, grown human being sized chairs.

And unsurprisingly, I got some feelings about it.  Nothing I won’t get over after I post this but it’s still a little bittersweet to see some pretty mainstay things in the house for raising my kids being given the boot, but at least with these specific things, they’ve all been successfully unloaded to other parents and people whom I hope manages to get continued good use and a successful second life, raising kids as they did my own.

Because my kids were born so closely together, it wasn’t difficult to treat the last few years like one really long and continuous birth and raising, because there was a good bit of overlap when both girls needed the same stuff, and I could stop and look at my life and just see myself with two babies.  But now that they’re both basically thinking they’re full-ass grown adults now, but most importantly, out of diapers, it’s been time to say goodbye to a lot of baby stuff now, and time to be me and reflect and reminisce on it.  I’m satisfied with every inch of surface area we can liberate in my home, and frankly it’s harder to give shit away than it’s hard to say goodbye to a lot of baby stuff.  But as much as I do use dad brogs to complain about how hard my life is and how over I get parenting sometimes, it’s times like these that are reminders that time is most definitely passing, my kids are growing further and further away from the babies they once were, and if I keep blinking to brog and bitch, I’m going to miss everything on the way to sitting down with them to guide them through their first job applications because oh yeah, my kids will be working.