Micronaxx The adventures of Finn & Henry


Captain Underpants, readying for takeoff!


Tummy Pants



MOGI It's not news that John is known as KOBI in our house (King of Bad Ideas). For example: "Hey kids, let's use yarn and duct tape to make 'tripwires' and not tell Mom-o until she hits one and lands flat on her face in the living room!" or "A fistful of cookies right before bedtime? What could possibly go wrong?"

[Hey man, they *start* this stuff; I just greenlight it. 😉 --J.]

And now the boys have gleefully adopted their own KOBI moniker (Kids of Bad Ideas): Using a glue stick to hang posters on the wall? GREAT IDEA! Jumping up and down on the nice couch? You bet! Bringing sandy, muddy toys and sticks into their rooms for playing? Bring it on! Peeing in the trashcan? Why, certainly!

I am the lone, battle-hardened MOGI (Mom of Good Ideas), up against three hearty, persistent KOBIs. The fact that everyone remains alive, relatively unscathed, and our house is still standing tells me I must be doing something right. Right?

[Yeah, and the house continues to pulsate with hilarity, so we all play our parts, eh? 🙂 --J.]


Small Sirs, Big Sur

What a day! Here's our little chronicle of following Bixby Creek down to the sea, digging innumerable holes, frolicking with Bruce's dog, and just generally cooling the heck out. 🙂

Big Sirs



A perfect day

Saturday was just unbelievably lovely. Here's a quick peek:


Spin for the Win

We had an absolute blast exploring Big Sur yesterday, visiting my friend the photojournalist Bruce Haley & family beneath the Bixby Creek Bridge. We'll share photos soon (I took a *ton*). In the meantime, here Bruce's wife Deborah shows our fascinated boys the spinning wheel she uses to make yarn:


Wakey Wakey!

The view from my pillow, 6:47am. (Yes, those are my legs.) 🙂


Beholding Grandpa’s old typewriter

Margot's dad recently sent us his trusty old writing machine, and the boys have been fascinated. "Many an essay has been written on that!" notes Auntie Laura. "Grampa has had that since he got his Bachelor's at CU." Check it out:


“Li’l peeps can roll, man…”

When Grandpa Liggett would pout as a boy, his parents would warn him, "Watch out, or [farmer neighbor] Nicholson's cows will come sit on that lip!" I know few kids poutier than Henry, so the cows have quickly become a central piece of family lore. In the shot below I was teasing grumpy Henry at a bowling lane in Colorado, combining ball-as-cow imagery with memories of Jesus Quintana from The Big Lebowski. Enjoy. 🙂

Nicholsons' Rolls


Care for Some Breadsticks With That?

rarnchiboneFinny described a new salad he'd devised for his leonine buddies yesterday morning, called "Rarnchibone." Of course, young Henry had to follow suit with an owl-appropriate salad called "Hoonchibone." Recipes follow:

Rarnchibone consists of "A bunch of grapes, a hamburger patty on the top, lettuce, lots & lots & lots of berries. It's the same for hoonchibone, but instead of a hamburger patty, it's a mouse patty."

#TheMoreYouKnow 🙂


Finn’s-Eye View (aka, “Wheeee!”)

Prepare yourself: You're about to become 3.5 feet tall, and blonde, and a bit less than steady on your bike. 🙂 Check out a kid's-eye view of Rancho San Antonio, as captured from the helmet of Finn thanks to the new GoPro camera Mom-O got us for Christmas:


World War Z(erbert), then & now

It's fun to compare 4-year-old Henry trading zerberts with Mom-O...

...to an old clip of 8-month-old Henry turning her into his private musical "instrument":


ET: The Next Generation

Mr. Spielberg, you know where to call. 🙂




Nacks On A Plane

"Man, I'm glad our flights didn't get too screwed up in & out of Denver," said Margot just now. Well, give her credit for looking on the bright side of things. It's true that our flights weren't canceled, but look at the "fun" the boys & I had while moldering on the tarmac for a couple of hours, awaiting the de-icing truck:

Henry proceded to pass out, and then—once we were in the air—puke all over the place. ("Why didn't you grab the barf bag??" demanded Finn, quite reasonably. Because your old man doesn't have cat-like reflexes, son.) Amazingly, as we finally dragged our bones through the door in San Jose, Hen lit up and said—without a hint of irony—"That was the best trip ever!" ;-P