Nathan and Jack

Merry Christmas, Baby!

2009-01-06T04:09:00.018+01:00

Jackson and Cherry Ann weathered the Midwest to grace us with their presence over the Christmas holiday. Despite sub-zero temperatures, they warmed our hearts.

Nugget learned how to scoot.

2008-11-11T02:24:00.010+01:00

He got the radioactive blood...

He looks like me if I looked like Cherry Ann.

Come and get it.

What?

Made a stinker.

I just want to go there.

Don't get a big head, Jack, you're no John Amato... yet.

Splash Jackson goes exploring

2008-08-07T21:38:00.008+02:00

Jackson and I underneath the Sundial Bridge over the Sacramento River.

Jack tries to brush his teeth to get rid of his funky morning breath.

Cousin Lilly and Jack at the library. Jack goes for the Spanish books.

Jack loves ice cream, especially from the Turtle Bay Museum.

Jack takes a nap as we cross the Sundial Bridge.

Jackson playing bed sheet scramble at 8 months

2008-08-07T21:25:00.004+02:00

I'm in Redding, CA again to see Mr. Jackson James Weaver. He has been sick this week, but despite his lack of antibodies, he still loves to play bed sheet scramble.

Photos of Jack

2008-06-19T15:36:00.019+02:00

These were taken over the course of a month and a half and you can see how much Jack is growing!

These are some of my favorite pictures of Jack

2008-05-19T01:17:00.015+02:00

Just got some videos of Jackson.

2008-05-10T01:03:00.005+02:00

I'm thinking rocket scientist.

Jackson is growing up so fast,

2008-04-11T05:11:00.003+02:00

don't blink or you'll miss it!

Album

Babies, like wine, get better with age.

2008-04-11T04:59:00.004+02:00

Album

Keep the pictures coming mom,

2008-03-25T00:21:00.008+01:00

and by mom I mean Jack's mom. Isn't it funny how your dad will refer to your mom as mom when he's talking to you? I guess it's not funny in the classical sense of the word.

Jack's Latest Glamour Shots

Jack laughed for the first time yesterday,

2008-03-20T13:42:00.006+01:00

and I was sad not to be there. Maybe I'll buy him a cell phone for Easter.

Jackson at 3 months

Jackson came to Ohio this week,

2008-03-02T00:54:00.005+01:00

and madness ensued. Maybe I'm being melodramatic, but I will never understand why women insist on inhaling Jack's toes deep into their nostrils and squealing with delight. I find it terribly troublesome. Thankfully, so does the godfather. Too bad he left me today.

Jack Jack Jack Jack Jack Jack Jack

Boom Goes the Dynamite

2008-02-22T18:14:00.005+01:00

These are by far his best pictures yet. And not just because Jackson went boom in his diaper.

Who Dressed Up my Son as a Pretty Pretty Princess?

2008-02-22T18:08:00.005+01:00

Someone will pay for this.

What's all the fuss about Brad Pitt's kid? Haven't they seen this one yet?

2008-02-05T03:05:00.000+01:00

Tummy Time

Jackso-photo

Jack is a Growing Boy

2008-01-25T03:25:00.001+01:00

He's already 24 inches long and over 11 lbs. and he's only 6 weeks old! Will he ever forgive me for posting this picture??

I'm a growing boy

I'm back in Illinois, and against all odds, nothing has changed.

2008-01-16T08:45:00.000+01:00

It's good to be back so far, but I admit that Jack is growing up very fast and I miss him already. He's almost busting out of his jammies. Cherry Ann shared some pictures with me of Jackson while my mom was visiting and some archived Jackson pics. I hope you can see them, there are some really good ones in there. I would post the pictures individually, but I can't download the files to my PC and I wasn't the one who posted them.

Cherry Ann's Jackson Chronicles

Cherry Ann's Jack Taking Baths

Cherry Ann's Jack's Second Day

Cherry Ann's Jack with Grandparents and Godparent

Cherry Ann's Jack Goes Hiking

Much Love

It kills me to be away

2007-12-27T01:17:00.000+01:00

from my family, especially around the holidays. The pain was especially great on Christmas day for sentimental, as well as practical, reasons. Alas, I did have the joy of Cherry Ann's family and Jackson's first Christmas to keep me warm.

It also kills me to be away from the blog which I used to consider a work of art. Someday, I hope to restore it to its past glory.

In the meantime, please enjoy Jackson's newest albums. He has dominated the blog as of late, and for good reason. I have plans to give him his own blog, but you know what they say about good intentions... actually, I have no idea what they say about those.

Jack's album V

Jack's album VI

CHECK OUT JACK'S FIRST TRICK!!

Camilla the dog sings when you squeeze her blinky Christmas dog

Kindergarten Kids

2007-12-22T01:18:00.000+01:00

Little kids are the best, especially Cherry Ann's niece Lily. Jack had the good fortune of attending her kindergarten Christmas pageant, and let me tell you, these kids rocked! Check out their photos here.

Jack's album IV (and Lily!)

And if you like Christmas carols, you can purchase these classics for four easy payments of $9.99! Go ahead and mail those checks to me...

Fixed the links

2007-12-22T01:05:00.000+01:00

For those having link troubles, let me know if they're fixed. Godfather Rohn convinced me to switch to the upgraded Flickr account, and I must say that it's amazing so far. I can't post as much as I'd like because I have to drive 20 min. to a coffee shop just to use the internet, but be on the lookout for mobile posts, pic slideshow and album links on the right.

Enjoy another batch!

Jack's album III

Jackson media central

2007-12-19T22:29:00.000+01:00

You're tuned into the home of Jackson media.

Jack's album II

Jack videos

Everything is good so far. Can't wait till he starts doing stuff, like eating kielbasa.

Jack's pictures

2007-12-18T00:04:00.001+01:00

Jack's album I

Check him out. He's the best ever!

(edit: if the link above does not work, email jcamato@gmail.com to have godfather rohn to forward the original link to you.)

Jack's videos

2007-12-17T22:42:00.000+01:00

It's me! It's me!

I'm here in Redding, CA with Jackson and Cherry Ann at the local Starbucks, so this will be more brief than I would like.

First of all, I want to say thank you for the outpouring of love from friends and family for the young Mr. Jackson. The calls and texts and hugs have been more than imaginable, and I know I didn't get a chance to thank everyone, but believe me your love has warmed all of our hearts. Jack is healthy and strong and he'll stay that way with any luck at all. And a special thanks goes out to uncle John Amato for his vigilant guest posts. Well done, brother.

Now, enjoy some videos of the young stud. They're pretty amazing!

Jack's bootleg birth video

Jack's hospital bath video

Jackson's first poop video

First diaper change video

Jackson in the hospital video

Jack's kung-foo fighting video!!

everyone loves babies. especially when they're this cool

2007-12-17T03:47:00.000+01:00

a couple more cell phone photos from nate. he relayed to me that he'd post an update of his own tomorrow. he's taken quite a few photos on a real camera. most of them are of jackson yawning, laying, looking left, looking right, or being a beast.

this baby is a badass

2007-12-15T19:51:00.000+01:00

the mercy medical center in redding posted jackson james' first portrait. here's his info:

Born: December 14, 2007 9:50 am
Weight: 7 lbs 4 oz
Length: 19.5 inches

check out the rest of the cool info they compiled on his page here. you'll learn stuff like, 1503 - Nostradamus - French physician and astrologer whose works as the most noted futurist of the Renaissance are still being studied and quoted today and 1911 - Norwegian explorer Roald Amundsen, three companions and their dog-sled teams became the first to successfully reach the South Pole.

rookie of the year

2007-12-15T19:50:00.001+01:00

Meet jackson james aldeguer weaver

2007-12-15T04:03:00.001+01:00

born 12.14.07

there goes the whole 'it's not mine' excuse: nate jr doomed from the start

2007-12-15T01:00:00.000+01:00

new updates from nate. first the good. both baby and mom are healthy. nate jr's head is temporarily cone shaped as they had to extract the infant from cherry with a matching set of plastic ladles (we knew they'd come in handy for more than ladle ball one of these days). nate received a phone call seconds after the birth and heard his child crying in the background. they will be keeping the after birth on ice so that nate can consume it upon arrival as is customary for truly dedicated fathers.

and now the bad news. bridget rumor has it that nate jr. looks just like nate. hopefully she was referring to the biceps, jaw, hair and toes. not the hips. definitely not the hips. if so, that means the baby has no torso and half his body weight is in his hips. hopefully the resemblance means that he'll be the designated technical foul shooter and have a father that wins the one mile fun run during the Teens High On Life race.

also circulating from the rumor family is the news that the baby will be named jackson james 'hollywood' weaver. so i'll stop referring to him as nate jr and commence calling him hollywood. he's destined to be a star.

uncle! i'm an uncle! noogie time!

2007-12-14T19:15:00.000+01:00

just had the news passed on from sista alissa that nate junior has officially joined us on planet earth. he's a 7 lbs 4 oz genius beast with a full head of hair. brian rumor has it that he already has a 5 o'clock shadow - putting me and my brothers to shame.

dudes, the baby is coming

2007-12-14T18:23:00.001+01:00

this is a guest post courtesy of john. you might remember me from such events as "oh crap, nate missed another flight", "who's that idiot following nate around europe", and "how does this kid eat without a job. right. he's 25 and still lives with his parents".

i'm the second half of the nate/john combo. the robin to his batman, bert to his ernie, the posh to his becks. as you can tell, nate's a much more talent writer than me. i've already failed miserably at this post.

the whole point of this was to let you know that cherry ann is in labor. it started about 1 am last night when she felt like 'her butt fell off". nate got the call earlier this morning and is en route to redding, ca. he has to transfer 3 times i think so he won't arrive until 4:34 pacific time.

i'll keep everyone update as i am. check back periodically or add open skate with nate to your google reader (it's the best way to do it).

It's a Boy!

2007-12-12T06:01:00.001+01:00

Just kidding.

I haven't left for CA yet, but I unlocked the door to my messenger pigeon hut in case Cherry Ann goes into labor and I'm on the john.

It's official. I'm freaking out.

2007-12-10T22:13:00.000+01:00

Cherry Ann texted me to say she's 1 cm. dilated. I don't know what that means, but it feels like time to freak out. My stomach is in knots. This whole 9 months to have a baby thing is bullshit. It's not like you get an invitation in the mail that smells like flowers and Johnson & Johnson saying, "You're invited to the birth of your son on Dec. 24th at 9:52:26 AM. Please bring a towel." It's more like a phone call at 3am saying, "I'm in labor, get your ass out here, and don't forget the diapers, the onesies and the breast pump." If you need me, I'll be packing the breast pump.

Jams

2007-12-07T04:01:00.001+01:00

If you knows me, then you knows I likes my jams! I picked up the first two on youtube, which is surprisingly helpful to find new music. The last was a plug from Mr. Nathan Silly Sites. It's always nice to find jams you like, so if you're in the mood, check out a few bands to bolster your holiday arsenal.

Tunng -- Bullets

Werle & Stankowski -- After All
Also available in German.

Architecture in Helsinki -- It's 5

10 Reasons to Love John Amato

2007-12-06T00:37:00.000+01:00

You know, John and I have been friends since grade school. Well, there were a few months in there where he snubbed me for the mechanical-pencil-eraser-shooting crowd, but that's to be expected with puberty. He returned to the nerd with gusto and we've been friends ever since. Here are my top ten reasons why everyone should love John Amato, as if you needed more...

10. He orders the large soup.

9. His dog can never die.

8. When I told him I was going to study in Spain without him, he got pissed and moved to France.

7. When he drinks, he gets blurry.

6. He dates hot chicks. Hotter than you could ever date.

5. He creeps out the shot like no other.

4. He looks like Paul Simon, and that's a rare quality these days.

3. He's doesn't take off his sport coat to eat casserole.

2. He went as himself for Halloween.

1. He's Toledo's #1 entrepreneur. Take that Sarah J. Bates!

And there you have it. Ladies, if that's not criteria for marriage, then I don't know what is.

I'm back... and I'm having a baby

2007-12-03T02:49:00.000+01:00

Well, not me personally.

Uncle Nathan is back in digital form after a sabbatical that rivaled Sister Jeanette's quest for Jesus and bigger hair. Sister Jeanette was the nun who looked like Elvis and taught us how to dissect cats. You may be wondering what I've been up to since Spanish Nate returned stateside and became Uncle Nathan. You probably checked the blog daily -- nay, hourly -- to see that next post. Maybe you made it your home page, I don't know.

Well if you did, then you're in luck, because I have a treasure chest of show and tell waiting for you.

From July '06 to June '07, I wore many hats. Most of that time was spent in my supervisor hat (crimped velvet) in a warehouse in southern California. It was there that I found my name graffitied on the bathroom stall for the first time, and since children now use the interweb, I won't repeat the haiku. Rest assured, proper syntax WAS adhered to. Oh, and someone pooped on the floor. Three days in a row. I can say poop, can't I?

When I wasn't wearing my biohazard suit, I exclusively wore one of two sweaters.

It's important to stay busy, so I enrolled myself in many extracurricular activities:

Shopping cart derby
Master brewer
Joined a boy band
Circus performer
Avocado Pizza!
Aficionado of fine automobiles
Wild turkey
Elephant boy
Show me your prairie dog!
Zoo keeper
Circus performer II
Good shepherd
Pan of beer!!
Housewife
Fly fisherman
Double entendre pirate
18th century bureaucrat
Luchadoreista

Joined rival boy band

Among others...

In June 'o7, I flew to Peoria, IL where I now live. In a mansion. Built by a marble baron. In the 1890's. True story.

And on Dec. 24, 2007 Cherry Ann Aldeguer and I are expecting a son. Cherry Ann and I dated in Los Angeles while I lived there. She's going to make an awesome mom.

I'll now field some common questions about my son. Yes, I'm excited. Yes, the baby is healthy. Yes, the baby is in California. No, I do not plan on moving. Yes, I will be a kick ass dad. No, the baby will not be named Rufus. Yes, the baby will eat traditional Polish foods like kielbasa and pierogies and pork chops by Fat Tuesday. No, the Bears will not win the Super Bowl. Yes, the baby already looks like Jesus. See for yourself.
And here I am today, plane ticket in hand, waiting for Dec. 19th or a phone call from the ER, whichever comes first. Don't worry, I'll keep you posted.

American Wedding

2006-12-18T03:47:00.000+01:00

Did someone say wedding? Few things in this hard-knock life are more exciting than weddings. I can think of only two -- finding money in an old jacket pocket and free burritos. So when I found out my own mother was getting remarried the day after Thanksgiving, it was like finding a free burrito in an old jacket pocket. She married a gent from the local rowing club where they watched their daughters compete against each other for their parents' love. I know, it's precious. Here's the lucky couple.

Name: Dick Michelangelo Coveney
Occupation: Entrepreneur / Systems guy
Company: DMC Consulting
Hobbies: boating, thinking, checking items off a list
Favorite color: mauve
Quote: "Write me a list."

Name: Susan Elaine Boldys Weaver Coveney
Occupation: Pathologist, bad-ass mom
Company: Path Labs
Hobbies: gardening, cooking, nurturing
Favorite color: green
Quote: "I packed a ham in your suitcase in case you got hungry."

It was a nice ceremony, if you like that sort of thing. Me? I prefer arranging children and dogs in funny poses and taking pictures of them. May I have this dance?

The highlight of the wedding was easily the All-star clientelle. We had more beasts than an X-men convention. Let's sort the punters from the nunces.

BEAST #4 -- Uncle Mike
Uncle Mike's been hustlin' dames for decades, which is how he landed Aunt Connie. After he broke his back falling off a three-story ladder, he secured his legendary status by buying a motorcycle and getting tatted up like Popeye.

BEAST #3 -- Bryan David Vickers
When Bryan's not knockin' dingers out of the park, he's slingin' em after a hard night of Busch light and Taco Bell.

BEAST #2 -- Zach Attack
Could he be more of a beast? A young Brad Pitt? More like DR. POZ!

BEAST #1 -- Nolan Ryan
DR. POZ part deux!! I told you this was an All-star crew!

Let's see those beasts again!

And how do all good weddings end? With jammy time. Yep, jammy time and egg noodles.

Cucamonga Shabba-Doo

2006-07-30T00:08:00.000+02:00

Whoa Nelly Furtado!! I have arrived in Californ I. A. to the town with the most ridiculous name this side of Arkadelphia, Arkansas -- Rancho Cucamonga, CA. Out of cat-like curiosity, I looked up the word cucamonga in the dictionary and found one entry: Rancho Cucamonga. But surely it's a Spanish word, right? Surely? Well, I have bad news for you cucamongas, it's complete gibberish! The origin of the word has been traced back to Adam Sandler's 1995 release Billy Madison in which Sandler mumbles "cucamonga shabba-doo" to Frank.

Since I've been here, I have made many new friends. When I moved in to my apartment, the first thing I did was sing Old Time Rock and Roll in my underwear. The second thing I did was go grocery shopping. Like seamen in a storm, I went overboard. By the third to last aisle, my cart was completely full, and I still needed to buy bread, milk and beer. Needless to say, I picked up some delicious treats on the way, like garlic and onion pita chips, two pounds of black forest ham, and a box of honey bunches of oats. When my bill ran over two hundred dollars, I realized that grocery shopping is not all thrifty and fancy-free as advertised. When I returned from my grocery gorge, I met my first friend. She was already in my apartment, sitting quietly on the kitchen countertop. I asked her what her name was and she didn't respond. I asked her how she got in and I got the same blank stare. So I said screw it, I'll call you Sylvia.

It turned out that Sylvia was a mute; she was born without vocal cords. Our communications were mostly one-way for the first few weeks. I could tell she was a sensitive girl by the way she tickled my arm when I spoke to her. She introduced me to Frank and Jimbo, Louisiana and Gorgeous, Tony, Phyllis, Lord Baltimore, Sir Fallister Cramplepants, and Sweet Lou. She asked me if they could come to live with us, and I obliged, so long as they didn't touch my Huey Lewis albums. It was nice to have a support network after a hard day of work. My friends and I had some great times too. One time Sir Fallister Cramplepants lifted four times his bodyweight in breadcrumbs, which called for an immediate celebration. Everything was going great until I woke up one morning to find all of my friends eating my honey bunches of oats without permission. I got upset, doused them in Clorox bathroom cleaner and called the exterminator. Some friends you just can't trust.

Change of Plans

2006-05-13T20:33:00.000+02:00

The CAT that controls my life declawed my plans for Indianapolis (See, 2006). Polish sausage in Chicago and Natty in Nati are on hold for a tid. Apparently, starting work is not a prerequisite to being relocated. From July 5, I will be stationed in Ontario, CA. Don't get all riled up, as I have not been banished to Canada. Ontario, California is E of LA. I have no idea what to expect, but if I know you or I know a friend of yours or you found this blog on the internet, you are welcome to come over. But call in advance so I can heat a pot of soybeans.

Works cited
See, Scott. Facebook message. Retrieved 12 May 2006.

Under Construction

2006-04-27T12:55:00.000+02:00

Friends, enemies, and spies, this blog is under construction. The delay was caused in part by academic considerations, namely a thesis paper on soybean supply chains. The tragic loss of my camera at "el Loro" restaurant did not help the situation either. With any luck, this blog will be riding high on the horse in June when I start my job in Indianapolis. I hope to share the sights and sounds of the Indy city with you. Until then, eat more soy. I love you all.

Malaga

2006-02-09T05:53:00.000+01:00

Micah and I hit the road this weekend. Not literally (that would be silly), that expression means that we took a road trip. The original goal was to reach Africa in a three day weekend, but realistically we had about as much chance of reaching Africa as I did fulfilling my New Years Resolution to stop Jazzercising. Besides, for two twenty-somethings from the Midwest, making it towards Africa in a three day weekend is an adventure on its own.

The 4:15 bus out of Zaragoza was a prompt beast, and it almost left us due to a prolonged shower and an impromptu peanut butter and jelly sandwich. That's 4:15 in the morning, an hour suitable only for drunks and paperboys. We were neither that morning, although we have been known to deliver the mail on occasion.

Bright and early at 8:00, we pulled into Madrid. I shook off the Benadryl that glued my face to the window for the last two hours and Micah grumbled something about sleeping for fifteen minutes... must have been something on his mind. Due to my extensive knowledge of the subway imparted by Silas the master of disaster, we navigated to the South Station without a hitch. If only we knew where we were going...

There were as many buses to the South of Spain as there are delicious treats at the executive buffet, which is 66. Unfortunately, the Brits make it virtually impossible to get from Madrid to Gibraltar (maybe they're ashamed of their 29 km of paved roadways). Regardless, we made an executive decision to scrap Africa and try Malaga instead, mostly because it ryhmes with Gattaca.

As seasoned road warriors, we knew the importance of snackies. I covered all my bases -- oranges for vitamin C, apple-bran bars to counteract Doners, and and a giant, flour covered sausage for hilarity. Likewise, Micah brought strawberries, Muselix, and cured ham. We devoured some snackies in our palace in back of the bus to celebrate the trapping of our first grizzly.

On the road to Malaga, we discussed love, religion, work, and love. All these topics are interrelated. Micah is in love with Juliet, who he cannot love. I miss a great girl who spent a month with us on exchange in Boston and Zaragoza. Together we make a remarkable team, somber at present, but happy to dream.

What a relief to arrive in Malaga, ten hours after we locked the front door. Our first priority? The beach. The sun felt warm on our faces as we peeled layers of clothes from our backs. Sixty degrees and sunny, what a place. The beach is nearly empty -- it's winter in Malaga, and tourist season is a month away -- but we didn't care. Adventures do not require tourists.

We sat on two swings meant for boys half our size. We couldn't help but smile, overcome by a a sense of freedom and that first day of spring feeling. We watched the ocean rise as we swung backwards, then fall beneath our feet as we flew. Micah's spinning dismount won the style competition, and my leap of faith won in distance.

Micah's dad taught him how to skip -- skip to the comic section, skip to his lou, and skip stones on the water. The first two I could compete at, but the last one Micah has mastered. We laughed at the thought of traveling ten hours on a bus to skip stones in the sea, not because it is ridiculous, but because it made us so happy.

We made our way to the city center, dropped our back-sacks off at a hotel, and searched for food. Micah and I are the sort of silly sot who doesn't know what he wants until he sees it. So, of course, we walk three circles around downtown and find nothing to eat. On the brink of starvation, we spot the perfect place. A table in the sun, cradled by foliage in the heart of a secret garden. At least it seemed that cool at the time.

Micah's Juliet has changed him from a stone-hearted miser to a good friend. The look on his face says it all as he tilts his head back in the sun. He slurps tagliani with funghi sauce with a foreign smile. His beer has never tasted so good. It's a great feeling to find someone special.

But nothing wipes a smile off your face like dropping something in a giant hole. As we left the hotel that night, I ran back for my camera. Ole screwball North-Shea misjudged the wind and chucked the keys down the elevator shaft. How do you say "Sorry for losing the only set of keys to our tiny hotel room" in Spanish? The translation didn't come to mind.

That night we waltzed around Malaga looking for an experience. The city is beautiful; it's warm and the streets are lined with orange trees. If the University of Malaga is anything like Zaragoza, then the students have exams this weekend. Either that, or bird flu has wiped out the 18-22 year old population. With lusty brews in hand, we cover most of the city again on foot. Finding few signs of youthful life, we smash on a fish omlette that smells like heaven and an oversized plate of cheese.

We didn't have the Sunday paper to read in the morning, but who needs it when you have coffee on the beach? Besides, Micah hogs Hagar the Horrible anyway.

Sunday is free day in Spain. It's free because you never spend any money, but you don't get anything in return either. Everything is closed on Sunday because people simply don't want to work. While you can't buy a blow dryer at your local SpainMart, you can get into museums and castles for free. Such was the case for Malaga's Gibralfaro's castle, where we spent much of the day. The view from the top of the hill is spectacular. You can see the bull ring, the port, the mountains, the beach, and if you look hard enough, Africa.

We left the hotel at 10:30 that night to find the Superbowl. Surely we would need plenty of time to find real football in a country whose most famous athlete is King Alphonso XIII. Wrong. The second bar we entered was showing the Superbowl, AND the bartender looked like Frodo! We killed time until the 12:30 am kickoff at McDonalds where Micah outdid my three hambones and nuggets with two hambones, nuggets, a saucy cheesy thing, and apple pies.

We found a few Americans from San Francisco at the bar, some with mohawks, some without. I supported my local Roethlisberger and Micah chose the Seahawks by default. Whenever his team scored, I had to drink a glass of whiskey and vice versa. That game didn't last too long.

And just like that, our weekend came to a close. No one was deported. No one lost an eye. No one succumbed to typhoid fever, although Micah battled a bout. If we learned anything from this trip, it's that buses are cheap, beaches are beautiful, and life is short.

Paging Mr. Amato

2005-12-17T17:51:00.000+01:00

Like the fierce mountain winds that ravage Zaragoza, John Amato swept into town this week. His visits here are always appreciated, as he never fails to raise company morale. Even Silas gets razzed up whe John comes to Goza, and Silas barely cracked a smile when Journey released their limited edition greatest hits collection, "The Essential Journey"!!

Said visit could not have fallen on a more perfect weekend. Our finals knocked us out this week. Seriously, if we were the Fridge, then they were Manute Bol, and everyone knows that Manute Bol pummeled the fridge in possibly the most ridiculous boxing match of all time. After such a beating, we were ready to blow off some steam. I don't want to get sidetracked, but I want to state for the record that Manute Bol is incredible.

John arrived just in time to bowl with us. Yes, they have bowling in Spain, and yes, I wear a size 46 bowling shoe. Spanish bowlers are surprisingly familiar with the game, although I didn't see any leisure suits or flowers inside their bowling balls. The bowling alley was identical to American lanes, complete with buckets of beer and bright orange, six pound balls. The music was straight from America too, only time warped back to 1993. Yeah, I know you'd walk 500 miles... and 500 more... it's farther than that to 2005.

John must have been jealous of my high scores, because later that night , when I jump attacked him, he repelled me into a pond of poo.

On Thursday night, the gang materialized to play poker, sin Jonathan who was touring Valencia with his lovely wife. Jermaine bought a bottle of delicious lizard wine at the chinese store and we had ourselves a fiesta. The Chinese have done it again. Improve fermented rice wine? HOW? Add two whole, gutted lizards, that's how! Of course Jermaine won the poker game, but not because of his poker skill or dumb luck. He was the only person who didn't drink the delicious lizard wine.

Friday night I found the future Mrs. Weaver. She doesn't know it yet, but I'm pretty sure she's in love with me. I actually met her last month at a basement bar in Goza and she remembered me, if only because Americans in basement bars tend to stick out in this city. She speaks some English and her hair is curly. Magic, huh? Now, if I could only remember where that bar is...

Saturday night met all expectations early, when John tried to eat four bombs simultaneously at Executive Dinner. We destroyed the buffet with our American appetites. Our goal was to eat four times more than the average customer, which we achieved after only two hours. John focused his last hour on the desserts and subsequently ate half a tray of bombs; I chose more traditional American foods, like fried anything.

After the buffet, we beat boxed down the main drag in Zaragoza. Silas was Eminem, I was Vanilla Ice.

Eventually, we ran into this French guy. I don't know who he is, but I'll entertain your best guesses.

Alas, all good vacations come to an end, and we had to bid John adieu. Silas was crushed, and he didn't even bat an eyelid when Lou Gramm announced his departure from Foreigner to pursue a solo career. Farewell, master vacationer of the EU, for we in Zaragoza will miss you.

Family Reunions

2005-11-29T19:08:00.000+01:00

A saucy Spanish hola to my friends across the sea, the Americans! It is I, Nathaniel James, delivering the latest and greatest of Zaragoza city to all you football watchers, home team cheerers, turkey gobblers, donkey punchers, and razza-ma-tazzers of the good ole USA. This Tuesday, I find myself stout of health and high spirited, for we ZLOGgers are finished with our projects and face but four measley exams before the yuletide bliss of Navidad. Holiday homesickness is heading my way, and you can't spell Navidad without dad, so why don't we peek into the world of the one mile fun run champion of 1997 who eats donuts for fuel, the one and only Jim Weaver.

October finds my dad at the Miller family reunion in Southern Ohio. Miller is my dad's mother's family name. If you call me Nathan Miller, I might not respond unless you're looking right at me.

In Southern Ohio, real men drag dinosaur fish from the depths of Midwest waterways. These fish, popularly known as Muskies, were once banished to Canada by King Triton when he found them snacking on Flotsam and Jetsam, Ursula's evil eels. I assume you catch them with a baited diesel engine painted like a rhinoceros.

Real men not only risk life and limb hunting phantom fish, but they can throw a horse's shoe around a stake better than Pip, the cobbler's son. My dad's cousins torch the pits like Kevin Harvick, but when they're through, only their opponents feel the burn. Over the 'unions, my dad and I have learned to back off Brucy's hot hurlin' hand and take the beating with a smile. We can smile because we're always the first in line for orange drink and dessert.

I think the beatings finally got to my dad when he suggested a sport largely foreign to Miller family reunionites, and one that he and I love so well, G. O. L. F. golf. The last four or five years, we've rounded up two family teams in a scramble even Denny's would envy. Each year, the teams are never more than one or two strokes apart, which amazes me because I try to pick the best players and stick my dad with the rooks. He doesn't care though, he straps the rooks on his back and leads them to victory, like Mike Krzyzewski on his collegiate tennis team. Here he is next to my grandpa in his Cincinnati hat with Randy and Matthew. Two of his children chose UC as a nest to nurture their post high school thoughts, should they have any. Erin has graduated onto bigger things, but Alissa is just beginning her stumble.... journey.... jumble into college life. Luckily, she has a family of dentists to guide her through her architecture program. What, you think they're not related whatsoever? Well, a building shaped like a giant tooth isn't worth crap in the marketplace if it's not anatomically correct. Alissa was lucky enough to attend the Miller family reunion this year, where my grandpa highlighted the similarities between bridges and bridges.

As the sun sets on sleepy Southern Ohio, this update rests its heavy haunches in cybersleep, trusting that you will use your knowledge of my family and Southern Ohio for good and not sell it to telemarketers or blow it on some get rich quick scheme. If you do, and you're within one mile of my dad, you don't have a chance. .

Lovely Ladies of the ZLC

2005-11-12T21:35:00.000+01:00

Over the posts, I have shown you a smattering of Zaragoza's finest attractions. For those guests with eyes, you've seen the cathedral, the fountains, the futbol stadium, the rows of parked scooters, level two debauchery, and other happenings within the blog. But you have not yet seen the shining jewels that make our lives complete, the backbone of the ZLC, the sole reason for the coffee machine in the breakroom -- yes, I'm talking about the ZLC staff. These girls are the sun, moon, and stars of the ZLC, and their fashion sense is surpassed only by their radiant resplendence.

Carolina is the research assistant at the ZLC. She spends most of her time researching supply chain tidbits and thinking about her cat. She eats sliced fruit, bread, coffee and juice for breakfast, just like commercials say you should. Also, she can't eat breakfast anywhere but the ZLC because she loves it so much. She seems innocent, but you have to watch out for her tricks, like the old "Knock over the Toaster and Run" trick. Works every time.

Christina's title has the word student in it, as she has dedicated her life to us. When my wallet was stolen in Barcelona and I needed to replace my student card, who did I go to? Diego, who also has the word student in his title. But who did I go to when Diego was freaking out about something? Christina! Her pastimes include singing catchy tunes, like "where will be my trolley?" and wearing glasses.

Laura is the Christina equivalent to the Spanish Masters program at the ZLC, but she spends more time with us because we're cooler. One of her talents is cooking delicious meals, which she highlights once a week at "Dinner with an Idiot." During my reign as idiot, we enjoyed duck patte and rotini with cranberries and olives... ZAM!

Marta calls me chickiteen, and I still don't know what that means. She's a document translating wizard, so watch out for her magical powers. One time she tricked me into cleaning the kitchen by handing me a towel and staring at the counter. If you ever see Marta on the street, shoot her a "que pasa" and she might light up like a Christmas tree.

Can you tell which feet are mine? If you guessed the handwoven, Pakistani socks, you're wrong, those are Carolina's. I'm wearing my favorite pair of black heels.

After months of careful research posing as a Spaniard in the break room, I have determined the secret to the success of the ZLC girls. It's not their wit, charm, or dimples, it's their coffee. Coffee is the life force that drives these women. Their sauciness is drawn from hot water filtered through ground beans. After a few cups of coffee, there's nothing they can't do. I once saw Christina polish off a pot, then sweep the cobwebs out from under the coke machine... while she held it up.

It's true, the ZLC could not function without them. Christina, Marta, and Laura were JTinstrumental in helping the students find housing. JT stands for Jethro Tull, and it's the strongest form of instrumental around. They jazzercised our landlord suiters into shape, but there was no way for them to know that our landlord Eduardo is a complete loser who doesn't care about our oven or hot water or keys and says he'll fix the piso when really he's playing backgammon in the park and smoking menthols. Oh well, as long as the girls keep us afloat at the Z, I think we'll survive.

NEWS FLASH

2005-11-07T18:49:00.000+01:00

BREAKING NEWS: Man Found Asleep in Building

Nathan Weaver, a student from the United States studying Logistics in Zaragoza, was found asleep in the first floor library of the Zaragoza Logistics Center (ZLC) early Monday morning by Lupe Lopez, the building's cleaning lady.

Ms. Lopez was wiping the library tables when she noticed a mountain of books and papers in the corner of the room. Assuming that a shelf had fallen down, she dropped her towel and began replacing the books.

Suddenly, the pile began to move. Ms. Lopez shrieked and lept backward in surprise. Then she heard a voice rising from the heap. ".... Optimize the process output Markov Chain .... integrate suppliers with BizTalk schema .... do it in LINGO ...." Terrified, Ms. Lopez bolted from the room and phoned the authorities.

"I thought he was the devil," she remarked, shortly after police arrived.

Mr. Weaver was quickly uncovered and offered hot chocolate. After a physical examination, he was taken to the hospital for treatment. He suffered from dehydration and a ruptured spleen, caused by the heavy "Operations Research" book by Wayne Winston.

"That SOB Wayne Winston should know better. Such a heavy book was bound to hurt someone sooner or later. I hope he's happy," ranted an irate student, Joseph Butler.

General consensus at the ZLC is that the content of the Winston book is exceptional, but the material would be better presented in twelve bound volumes, not one.

Amazingly, Mr. Weaver's drool formed the rough outline of a Petri Net. Petri Nets are used to model business processes and are superior to Event Driven Process Chains because of their formal structure and executability. In this case, the bubbles represent objects in a process, called tokens.

When asked why he was sleeping in the school library, Mr. Weaver replied "after the eighth hour of reading, I blacked out. That and my landlord hasn't given me keys yet." Indeed, his landlord Eduardo had not given his keys as promised a month earlier, so Mr. Weaver stayed at the ZLC late into the night, rather than arouse his roommates.

Sleeping students are not uncommon at the ZLC. Authorities report to the building five to seven times per year to the facility to investigate bodies found by various staff and administrators. Such investigations are normally distributed with a mean of december and a standard deviation of 1.5 months.

This is not the first time that Ms. Lopez has claimed to have seen the devil, either. A firm believer in the Book of Revelation, Ms. Lopez encounters the devil two or three times per day. On the same morning that she found Mr. Weaver, Ms. Lopez saw the devil in a runny egg and heard the devil in the engine of her '91 Ford Fiesta.

To reduce the occurrence of overnight guests and devil sightings, the ZLC plans to decrease the price of coffee in the snack room three percent. The school has entertained other suggestions, such as replacing the carpet with gravel or fumigating the floor with mustard gas every night at 3:00.

Black Sunday

2005-10-30T16:43:00.000+01:00

Much has happened since I last talked to you. I flew to Milan with a trusty band of sky pirates for three days. I ate delicious cakes. I celebrated the day when Mary brought the city of Zaragoza a pillar; that was a wily one. I knocked a lamp off my desk and broke it. I calculated an economic order quantity. I played basketball with a tall German and three short Spaniards. I still haven't cut my hair, but that belongs on another list.

Yesterday, my roommates and I hosted a Halloween party in our flat. We made punch, we bought orange napkins, and we cleaned the bathroom. Jermaine wore a diaper. Micah carried a sword. Anand wore a wig. I refereed the afair. Long Hai doesn't believe in Halloween, but he supports us. Represented nationalities included the following: American, Spanish, Italian, German, French, Finnish, Polish, and Kenyan/Indian. Many guests had never been to a Halloween party, and most guests did not realize that Halloween is my favorite holiday. Yesterday was a good day.

Today is sad. Part of the sadness is attributable to the post-party effect. Parties, people and energy are interrelated. Parties have energy, people have energy, parties have people, and people have parties. The energy of a party is greater than the sum of the energy of the people at the party. Parties are thus energy multipliers. If we assume that energy is good, then parties are good as well because they allow an individual to experience new, previously unattainable levels of energy. The problem with parties as energy multipliers is that their energy is unsustainable. A party is an event with a finite duration. When the party disperses, so does the energy that it facilitated. When the excess energy leaves, it takes the individual's energy with it. The amount of energy that it takes is directly related to the amount of energy that an individual contributed to the party. Energy in this sense encompasses physical, emotional, and mental forms. When a party is over, participating individuals are partial representations of their whole. This is what I mean by the post-party effect. When a party is over, it takes all of its energy with it, including the energy that individuals gave to the party.

The other part of today's sadness is the end of daylight savings time. Daylight Savings Time might be the best idea in the history of the world. It changes the time standards by one hour to include more daylight in the evening and less in the morning. Because the modern world operates around time schedules, wake up and sleepy times for many people are fixed. During the summer months, the sun rises well before most fixed wake up times. Consequently, people never saw the sun. No, they saw less of the sun than they wanted. By increasing the time standard by one hour in the spring and decreasing it in the fall, people are able to barbeque without mosquitoes longer. It was first suggested by Ben "Jammin" Franklin in 1784, but wasn't adopted until 1918. It was repealed in 1919 under strong opposition from the time travel lobby. It was adopted again after WWII, when the Allies defeated the powerful time travel lobby. The reason that daylight savings time is so great is that mornings are bad, evenings are good, and sunlight is great. By shifting sunlight away from mornings to evenings, I have a better life. My life is so much better that I have created a holiday called Daylight Day, celebrated sometime in the first week of April, corresponding to the start of Daylight Savings Time. But for every holiday, there is a corresponding antiday: Easter and Ash Wednesday, Fourth of July and Columbus Day, Earth Day and Every Other Day. Today is the antiday known as Darkness Day, where we mourn the theft of precious sunlight from our good friend evening. But even on this dark day, a shaft of hope beams through the window. As part of the Energy Policy Act of 2005, Daylight Savings Time will be extended for two weeks in the spring and two weeks in the fall, starting in 2007. Only 496 days until my next guaranteed life improvement.

Futbol 101

2005-10-12T20:17:00.000+02:00

Are you ready for some futbol? Hank Williams Jr. doesn't care for the sport, but Europeans can't get enough of it. John and his wife Melissa accompanied me on my first journey into the sporting sensation those across the Atlantic call soccer. Real Zaragoza has a decent team this year, ranking somewhere between last and first. In 2004 they beat Barcelona in the European Cup, so don't count them out. Tickets are cheap and good seats are plentiful, but don't expect to find beer in the stadium. In Europe, people plus alcohol plus futbol equals death. Not death from overheating, or death from some old fart choking on a treacle tart, but death from a man draped in a flag bludgeoning you with a stadium seat. Add the fact that wine is cheaper than water here, and you can see why they keep the sauce outside the stadium.

For those Americanos who don't know what futbol is, I'll explain it to you. Each team sends eleven players onto the pitch. Pitch means turf. Turf means field. During play, the game is almost identical to "keep away," but the objective is not only to humiliate your opponent like the kid with the old biblical name at recess, but also to score a goal, also known as a GOOOOOOAAAALLLL!!!!!! This is done by strategically passing the ball up the pitch and shooting the ball into the opponent's goal. So why don't futbol teams sign Brett Favre and Reggie Miller to pass and shoot? Because they're too old. Also, you can't touch the ball with your hands.

Futbol players must be in tremendous physical shape, because they run on a field the size of Texas for ninety minutes, with twenty minutes for orange slices between halves. The training is intense across Europe, but one particular innovation gives Spaniards the edge on the pitch. In 1964, Coach Franco of the Spanish futbol team Ningunlado noticed that his players' long hair flapped in the breeze as they ran down the field. To decrease the drag of his players' heads, the coach was going to shave their lengthy locks. Naturally, the players protested, claiming that a drastic clip would strip their strength. But unphased Franco fired up his clippers and grabbed his first victim. He sheared the man bald. And another. And another. Randomly, he snatched players off the bench shaved their heads. He grabbed Pacito, a scrawny Spaniard shaking in his shin guards. Starting at the side burn, he sheared Pacito's head upward to the temple, arching toward the back in a semicircle at the last possible second. Like a nervous cat, Pacito wrenched free of his captor's grasp and sprinted down the field. Franco furiously ordered the team after him. The players sprinted as fast as they could to catch the scrawny Spaniard, but the Pacito ran faster than ever. The bald players were stripped of their strength and could not catch him. The players with all their hair could not catch him either. The Spaniard was free of drag and strong as a bull. Immediately, the coach saw the error of his ways. Franco began shaving the sides of their heads and leaving the back to maximize strength and minimize drag. Thus, a crude form of mullet, or salmonete in Spanish, was born, and Spanish futbol has never been the same. Don't get me started on the trickle-down effect into Euro culture.

Real Zaragoza (pearl) beat Osacuna (vermilion) like eggs in quiche. Roll that futbol footage.

The Skinny on Minnesota Fats

2005-09-26T17:23:00.000+02:00

It's been too long friends, I know. Studious activities surpassed an all-time high last week, breaching level six. Rumors around the water cooler hint that studious activities will surpass level seven next week. Once we reach level seven, a boa constrictor is released into the computer lab to increase productivity. Before I am swallowed whole, I give to you the legend of billiards player "Minnesota Fats" in hopes that a man so hearty might quench your voracious blogging appetites.

Born Rudolph Walderone, billiards player Minnesota Fats is a controversial icon of the 60's and 70's. Supporters tout his mastery of the game, while opponents bash his brazen boldness. Jim Loy, a man with a website, sides with the Fat Man slammers. He claims that Walderone went by the name of "Fats" or "The Fat Man" for years and changed his nickname in 1961 after the release of The Huster. Rudolph felt that Jackie Gleason's character, "Minnesota Fats," was based on his life, a claim that Hustler author Walter Tevis denies. Mr. Loy claims that the Fat Man's billiard talent was below tournament caliber, although he was "pretty good at making bank shots." Minnesota Fats, instead, was known more for his mouth, boasting to have never lost a billiards game. Even Mohammed Ali dubbed Minnesota Fats "The Greatest" at boasting. His place in the BCA Hall of Fame is warranted for his promotion of the game, not his prowess on the green.

Minnesota Fats did not lack supporters, however. One fan pens a delicate retort to Mr. Loy's claims, writing:

Have you ever seen Fats play? Huh have you? I don't THINK so. How old are you, 16 maybe at best! I have seen Fats play, and my dad saw him IN PERSON play Mosconi and while Mosconi beat Fats many times Fats DID indeed beat that great master on that and other occasions. You are an idiot, a complete idiot, period.

Could YOU beat Fats? He would kick you so far outa this universe you wouldn't know what hit you. How DARE you even THINK about labeling Rudolf Wanderone as a fake or a con man.

Yes, how dare you Mr. Loy? Could YOU beat Fats? I don't THINK so.

Now, I am perfectly content reading the chocolate pudding slung between lovers and haters of Minnesota Fats, but everyone is missing the point here. Regardless of billiard talent or cocky swagger, Minnesota Fats loved animals. He loved animals more than any person in history. He reportedly kept 30-40 dogs and cats at his house. But don't take my word for it, just read some of the passages from his autobiography and decide for yourself.

I’m crazy about every living creature, it doesn’t matter what it happens to be. I even love insects; in fact, I wouldn’t swat a fly or a mosquito for a whole barrel of gold. One time I drove all the way from Mobile, Alabama to Dowell and it was like in the summertime and my car was loaded with a zillion mosquitoes but they didn’t even bite me.

Animals surpass humans on all counts. They not only never talk back, but animals appreciate kindness and affection in a way that most humans wouldn’t understand to start with. If you can take an animal and tame it and make it next to human by showing it love and tenderness, like the doll with the lion cubs in Detroit, think what you ought to be able to accomplish with a human being who is supposed to have an intellect.

They way I see it, human beings could learn an awful lot from lesser creatures like cats and dogs and even crocodiles. One time a guy gave me a chicken. I didn’t even know the fellow, only he knew how crazy I am about animals of all kinds. So this night I was playing cards in Du Quoin and this guy comes up and throws this chicken in the middle of the card table. I took that chicken home with me. It was real cold like in the wintertime and I didn’t know what to do with the chicken so I went to this great big dog house in the back yard where there was 30 or 40 dogs and cats all sleeping together. So I threw the chicken in the dog house and went in and told Eva-line the story (“Eva-line” is his nickname for his first wife, Evelyn).

‛Rudolf,’ Eva-line said, ‛you must be out of your tree. Just because the dogs and cats sleep together, you can’t put a chicken in there, too.’ So I told Eva-line, ‛Is that so? Well, we’ll see.’ So we tiptoed out there and peeked in and this chicken was sitting sound asleep on top of this big dog’s head. That’s on the square.

I’ve got this tremendous big old dog named Spotty and he watches over the rest of ’em, like he was a shepherd. I don’t even know what kind of dog he is. He’s just short and stocky with a heavy fur and enormous weight, only he don’t throw his muscle around out back. He just gets up every morning like he’s the top general and the rest of the dogs and cats fall in line like they were privates in the Army and Spotty goes by each one and washes their faces by hitting them a lick with his tongue. It’s amazing. The dogs and cats just stand there like a five-year-old waiting for the Mama to come scrub him clean and old Spotty licks every face until he thinks it’s washed. Then he dismisses the whole outfit for breakfast. It’s fantastic beyond compare.

Wow. That was special.

The point I'm making is that no matter what you think of Minnesota Fats, you can't deny that he loved animals. That's precisely why Minnesota Fats is my number one favorite bank shot pool player of the 60's and 70's. Could YOU love animals more? I didn't THINK so.

Kids in a Candy Store

2005-09-15T15:48:00.000+02:00

The primary goal of a child is to have fun. Kids try to have the most fun in anything they do, fueled by boundless energy and facilitated by a lack of inhibitions. Adults, on the other hand, do not hold fun in high priority. In fact, adults often look down on fun, even in situations when fun is welcome. So what changes from childhood to adulthood to take the fun out of life? Why are there no clowns at Board meetings? Why don't tanks play the ice-cream truck ditty?

Leading scientists believe that maturation and a lack of fun are directly related. Cognitive development and societal pressures drive the maturation process. Scientists see maturation as a natural process across all life forms. Resisting that process is unhealthy because it fights the body's natural tendencies and creates cognitive dissonance, i.e., you can't stay a kid forever. Those scientists are leading the Crap Train to Boringville.

More likely, the answer is in the diet. There is a magic dietary switch somewhere between "heck yeah, I'm a freakin kid!" to "Little fun exists in my life and I don't know why," and I know what it is. The answer lies in the choice between two foods -- candy and bread. Given that choice, kids choose candy 110% of the time, while adults choose kaiser rolls and marble rye. Kids say things like "CANDY!!! CANDY CANDY CANDY CANDY!!!!" Adults say things like, "I'm the bread-winner in this family," "I put bread on this table," and "I love bread, it makes me so serious."

I can hear the adults objecting already. "What's this guy got against bread?" you might say in your poor English. Well, I eat bread too. I eat it everyday. I freakin love bread. But I must admit, I had more fun when I ate candy instead. It's easy to see why candy is more fun than bread. Candy comes in one gillion brilliant colors, bread comes in three colors -- white, brown, and random earthtone. Candy is sweet, bread is not sweet. What of sweet rolls or sticky buns you say? Sorry, just a marketing ploy to disguise candy as bread. Because sweetness is inherently more fun than saltiness, bitterness, or sourness, candy is clearly more fun than bread.

So kids choose candy and adults choose bread, and candy is more fun than bread, so kids have more fun than adults. Now I hear the fretting, "Can I flip the magic switch?" "Can I go back to candy?" "Am I destined to live without fun?" Unfortunately, the only way to retain all of the magical powers of candy is to never switch to bread. If you choose candy, you choose fun, but once you grab that first slice of whole wheat over a wad of watermelon Big League Chew, you've started down a wholesome path that candy will not soon forget.

I know this because I went to a candy store with Joseph and his three kids. I was jealous when the sight of aisles of candy lit their faces up. I wish I could go back to my carefree days of stuffing halloween candy into my face, or buying my dinner with fifty cents at the ballpark, but it's just not the same anymore. We all had our favorites, didn't we? Nerds, Laffy Taffy, Mombas, Ring Pops, Skittles, Lemonheads, Sour Patch Kids, Caramel Creams, Fireballs, Pixie Stix, and those packets of colored sugar that you ate with a candy stick are just the tip of the iceberg.

I remember eating Slush Puppies after my yearly baseball game under the lights on Locust Street. Each player chose his favorite flavor from the row of neon squeeze bottles, glowing like liquid gold in Fort Knox. If you asked nicely, the concession stand girl would squirt an extra stream of deliciousness onto your frosty ice shavings, or even mix your favorite flavors to create a unique concoxion of your naming. We bragged more about our creations than our catches.

Joseph's kids will never eat Slush Puppies on Locust Street, but they have their own equally special memories. They will remember racing down the stairs to the Rincon half a block away. They will remember the pain of saving up for a special treat and the joy of finally having it. The will remember the colors, smells, and tastes of the candy store. Even if they forget the details, they will remember how much fun they had together, not just in the candy store, but at school, at the park, on the bus, and on the sidewalk. They will never forget the moments in time when they felt exactly like kids.

On Spaniards

2005-09-11T19:37:00.000+02:00

Spaniards. They sit in the park on Sundays. They let their dogs off the leash on the sidewalk and leave them outside when they slip into the bakery. They drink beer outside everyday. They eat dinner at 11:00, drink coffee at 8:00, and every weekend they party in between. Old men and children and girls and teenagers and dads play futbol together. They take two hours for lunch everyday. They drink lots of water. They make their own sandwiches. They buy bread and fruit every morning. They embrace mullets. They ride the bus. They listen to the same five songs in every bar and everyone sings along. They all smoke cigarettes. They age slowly. They let old people pass unobstructed. They make you feel at home. They smile on the street. Children chase each other in the grass. They love their country. They embrace their tradition. They welcome communication, especially with foreigners. No one works before 9:00. People clean streets and parks. Everyone gets medical treatment. They meet at cafes before work. They drink fresh squeezed orange juice. Each city has a festival every two months. They sings songs on the street. Everyone is on the same schedule. They go out in the sun together. They sit at cafes together. They go to bed together. They stretch in the grass together. They shop at the same time. They talk to each other. Nothing is open on Sunday except cafes. College costs 600 euros a year. They get married when they're 35. They swim in rivers. They sunbathe on hillsides. They rest on benches. They let their dogs' hair grow long. They shave parts of their head. They don't make a lot of money. Everyone gets kisses on the cheeks, even strangers. They make the most delicious ham. There is a bakery on every corner. There are two bars on every corner. A bottle of wine is included with entrees. They plant trees on the sidewalk. They plant trees in the middle of the street. They ride scooters. They drive small cars quickly. They manually shift. They wear clothes proudly. They wear colorful shoes. They support their children. Each neighborhood has a weeklong festival every year. They are agile and lean. Everyone is allowed to show skin. They convert euros to pesetas in their heads. They speak quickly and vigorously. They slow the passing of time.

Don't Get Gored!

2005-09-03T22:57:00.000+02:00

That's no bull! But seriously, yeah that is a bull. Last weekend I went to a bull fight with Marija, Lydia, Silas, Marvin, Anand, Jermaine, and Micah. Well, I thought it was a bull fight, but instead it was a delightful Spanish game I like to call "Don't Get Gored!" The premise is simple. First, teams of two Spaniards jump into a large ring with a large bull. The bull, upset with the lagging economy, chases the Spaniards. The Spaniards, careful not to get gored, must slip a small metal ring around one of the bull's horns, thus scoring a ringy.
Here is a perfect example of team Yellow Finch scoring a ringy. The judges award one point for each ringy, but I thought the contest needed more scoring...

When team White And Red, Don't Get Dead entered the ring, I knew something special was going to happen, and they didn't let me down. Observe the alternating scissor kicks used by the team to simulate a tranquil French ballet. With the bull asleep, they easily scored a ringy. Not even Louis XIV had moves like that: 10 points for synchronization.

White and Red had this bull humming a saucy tune when they deployed the "taxi cab." Strong Juan uses perfect form on the hale, but where's Gordy with the side door? Bad form Gordy: -4 points for the botch job.

With Gordy on a siesta, Strong Juan is left to fend for himself. Juan musters an Elvis hip thrust as he takes the business end of that horn right in the sunshine state: -5 points for an untimely siesta, and a 2 week suspension for Gordy.

Team Nanner Nanner Blue Blue never actually entered the ring, but their moves were nonetheless impressive. Observe Horace outside the ring doing pullups while the crowd counts them out loud. That bull can't touch Horace out there: 4 points for changing the subject.

Who's that? Why it's Russian gymnast Alexi Nemov, that's who! What a great shot of Alexi avoiding an angry bull that would love to gore someone while giving the crowd a special treat. On the other hand, if he had any Russian balls he'd be working that bull like a pommel horse: -5 points for the Red Scare.

Making a surprise guest appearance was the team of Danny Devito and George Muresan. George draws the bull's attention by simulating the bull's natural prey: a giraffe. Meanwhile, Danny scuttles behind, cackling like the Penguin: 2 points for finding matching uniforms in those sizes.

With three animals in the ring, naturally, a barnyard jamboree erupts. The animals chase each other's tails until they get tired. Danny and George are busy giggling with delight and forget to score a ringy: 3 points for childish glee.

Just like mom said, "It's all fun and games until the bull gets stuck in the wall." A good barnyard jamboree can make anyone dizzy, and this bull found out the hard way why you don't ride the spinny rides at the carnival. The Penguin helps out while George looks for Gordy: 10 points for rescuing the bully.

It's time to declare the real winner of the match. For those of you keeping score at home, we have in third place: Nanner Nanner Blue Blue with -1 point. In second place: White and Red, Don't Get Dead with 1 point. And in first place: George Muresan and Danny Devito with 15 points! Way to go guys, you make Felix and Oscar look like Laverne and Shirley.

A full bull fiesta wouldn't be complete without letting everyone have a try in the ring. Does this seem dangerous to anyone else? You've got to love a country where no one's bored playing "Don't Get Gored."

Solid as a Rock

2005-09-01T15:27:00.000+02:00

Mountains, baby!. I'm a long way from Northwest Ohio, I'll tell you that much. Where I come from, the tallest point within two hundred miles is an enormous garbage pile, and people get so excited that they ski down it! Maybe the runoff from Mt. Brighton is why we can't eat the fish from Lake Erie.

Anyway, last weekend we were in the Pyrenees building teams or something and we devoted an entire day to a hike through 20 kilometers of canyon territory. The hike pace was grueling. Silas died of snake bite and Marvin was ill with typhoid fever. Marat ran out of bullets. Jermaine killed 842 pounds of meat but could only carry back 100. We thought about floating across the deep river, but if you have any balls, you ford it. Half of our supplies were lost in the effort, including a wagon wheel. And that was only the first half hour.

Despite the constant action, I managed to slip away and snap some photos on my digimon digital camera.

The Pyrenees were formed by glaciers, so in certain places they have large, U-shaped valleys where supple, delicious grass grows.

The Ara River winds through the Pyrenees. It is full of supplies and handicrafts from failed ford attempts.

It's not uncommon to see clouds in Spain.

We kicked Silas hard in the stomach, but our primitive knowledge of medicine did not help him. This was his last view.

Finally, I captured the precise moment when the hawk unleashes a brilliant rainbow from its hawk soul.

Boo captured on film for the first time.

We could so ford this.

Spain and France are neighbors, which makes them enemies. On the other side of this pass is France, and if you show up in the first town you see speaking anything but French, they'll kick you back over the mountains. To be honest, they'd probably just smoke cigarettes and not talk to you, even if you had 100 pounds of meat.

Our destination was this bridge, where we sat on the grassy knoll and thought about our Spanish dreams. Just underneath the bridge, the water is deep enough to swim in. All the Spaniards were swimming there, so we did too. That fresh mountain water was about 50 degrees Kelvin, effectively turning our bullets into buckshot. With frozen pride, we hitched the wagons and headed for home.

Classy Class of 2006

2005-08-28T17:04:00.000+02:00

It is my pleasure to introduce to you the ZLOG Class of 2006. We come from different backgrounds. We have different tastes in living room decorations, television stations, vocations, libations, culinary creations, monster magnifications, and Iraqi liberations. One thing is certain though, none of us know what Logistics means. We can all be seen here in our new uniforms...

Anand "Black Curry" Mehta is from Kenya/India. Not even he knows what his nationality is. He requires a soft mattress and does not eat meat. His favorite restaurant is the Indian place down the street that serves nan and tea. He is one of the Five Fernandos (that's our street).

Annie "Who the Wu are You" Wu is from Taiwan. She is one of the smartest Zloggers, as determined by her studious demeanor and nine years of work experience in some difficult field. She can break rocks with her mind.

Carlos "Spaniard" Torres is a Spaniard from Zaragoza. He is one kool kat and a valuable asset to any Zlogger hoping to communicate hishers deep Zlog thoughts to the locals. Being from Zaragoza, he knows the best bars to find beautiful Spanish women at, which in fact is most of them.

Francesca "Pronto" Paparo is from Milan, Italy. She has studied in the Netherlands for the past year getting her masters in strategic management, or "bullshit" as she called it. She always answers the phone with "pronto" in her best Italian/Dutch/English accent.

Jermaine "Blackhole" Baldwin flew in from South Chicago on a whim. He has studied at Cornell and Harvard and was granted an undergraduate degree in economics from the University of Chicago. Despite these accolades, his Blinglish makes even simple sentences a nightmare for foreign students. He has never been full -- much like Coopsterdog -- and is a member of the Five Fernandos.

Joseph "Short Stack" Butler is a former Exxon Mobil manager. He and his family are from Houston, Texas. He loves fresh bread and giving his children ten cents when they walk without whining. It's called the WWW prize, and Thomas has already purchased a futbol with his earnings. If he needs a babysitter, I suggest John Amato, as he comes highly self-recommended.

Longhai "Rice is my Thang" Wang is from Shanghai, China. He walks at twice the speed of everyone except Jermaine, who eats Italian Ice Cream for fuel. His favorite dish is rice with egg and tomato and he is an exceptional cook. He brings agility, tranquility, and Chinese music to the Five Fernandos -- all much needed assets.

Marat "Kiss Off" Khismetov hails from Moscow, Russia. His expertise is in plant management and operations, which makes him a great homework partner. His icy Russian exterior was diffucult to melt at first, but everyday he warms up more to the Zlog crew. Much of his power comes from his red bandana and short-brimmed hat.

Marija "Multi-lingual" Milenkovic is from Serbia and Montenegro. She speaks five languages and has studied around Europe and Japan. When she's not Salsa dancing, you can find her cooking the latest delicious dish from Serbia Home and Garden Magazine. She can party until 7am like a true Spaniard.

Marvin "Nicaraguan Rocket" Matus is from Washington D.C./Nicaragua. He wants to work in South America after this program to help the South American peoples develop. He will likely be the best futbol player at the Zlog, as Carlos has already admitted to stinking. The rocket barely survived an assassination attempt by a random Spaniard during the rafting trip, but now he's stronger than ever.

Micah "No Law School" North-Shea is from Colorado/Illinois. He pieced out of law school after his first year at the University of Illinois for a trip to Spain. He is the first of the Five Fernandos to be bedridden with sickness, which he contracted in the mountains from some weird mountain food. He has the speed rating of 90, which boosts the Fernandos team speed significantly.

I am Nathan "Mr. Muppet" Weaver and I hail from Perrysburg, Ohio. I am by far the most muppetlike of all the Zloggers in both personality and physical stature. I have no meaningful work experience, but I do have a Logistics fire in my stomach, which my mom calls heartburn. I think it's more than that though -- I think that I have the tools to become something great, even if it is a rafting guide.

Panos "Greek Mystique" Tsilingiris is from Athens Greece. He listens to electronic music like the kind you hear blasting from Mitsubishis in the states. He has a question for every answer to every question he asks you. As a Greek, he is interested in philosophy and the search for truth through knowledge, which is a welcome surprise when compared to many peoples' bad attitudes.

Silas "Clean Cut" Clements comes to us from Arkansas. He left his home state not because he didn't like it, but because he had the itch to see new things. Zaragoza is a long way from Arkansas: mission accomplished Silas. If you can help it, don't get an itch to see new things, because as Silas is demonstrating, it's an itch you can never fully scratch.

White-Water Hijinks

2005-08-27T14:20:00.000+02:00

The ZLC program directors took the class into the mountains for some R&R. "Sounds like fun," we said, and we were right. Lots of fun, interspersed with flashes of terror. Did you know tunnels in the north of Spain are only big enough for one vehicle at a time? Neither did we! And neither did our bus driver, who yielded like Little Orphan Annie on her first tricycle ride out of the Orphanage.

Our pod stayed in the hotel Ordesa in the heart of the Pyrenees mountain range. Joseph is intrigued by a butterfly to his right.

Jermaine and Micah rebuild the Spanish Armada one tricycle at a time. England is shockingly complacent upon hearing this.

White-water rafting can be fun and exciting, especially when you fall into the rapids. Our boat's guide was exceptionally crazy, and exceptionally Argentinian. Classmates Marat the Russian, Joseph the Texan, and Marvin the Nicaraguan are on the left. On the right is myself, Panos the Greek, and two random Barcelonians. We swam more than any other boat. Who flips a whitewater raft, honestly? Check out some heavy action shots.

Our guide levitated for most of the trip. The trick was cool at first, but grew to resent the way he talked down to us.

Above, an unknown stow-away Spaniard attempts to drown classmate Marvin Matus with his Spanish palm. Marvin survived the near drowning and can still dance the Salsa better than Ricky Martin.

What this picture doesn't show are the pirates whom Marat bravely fought throughout the day. We struck a truce with the lot after Marat chopped off Blackbeard's hand with his paddle.

Old Beardy was kind enough to pose for a picture, but only after a cask of rum. Thanks Marat for teaching Blackbeard a valuable lesson -- you shouldn't plunder a Russian's booty with only one hand.

Stalking the Elusive Cod

2005-08-27T13:48:00.000+02:00

Here is some backlogged love from Cape Cod. I received some juicy pictures from my sister and would now like to present all of the children in my family with one mighty blast. On the left you will notice the beautiful Erin. She is a full blooded Weaver, but because of her extensive Spanish knowledge and darker complexion, I deduce that she is rather the lost daughter of Jorge and Lupe Vazquez. Erin and I love medium sized animals more than the average Weaver, and she even cares for one named Mazzie Moo. After a long day of fudge and trinket shopping, we are taking a rest on a lovely bench, and yes, those are hand woven Pakistani socks.

On Martha's Vineyard, twin sister Ashleigh and I stole a Moped and hit the road. The police chase did not seem to bother her though, as she found time to snap some brilliant photos.

Alissa and I saturate the atmosphere with power. She loves rare animals more than anyone else I know.

All of my sisters have rare and special talents, which makes traveling with them a joy. I would stalk the elusive and treasured Cod with them anytime.

Tour de Zaragoza

2005-08-21T15:25:00.000+02:00

I'm no Lance, but please join me on a little tour of Zaragoza. We can start where the last post left off -- at the top of el parque grande. This park overlooks Zaragoza and holds tons of hidden treasures like statues and fountains and parrots. Believe it or not, jungle green parrots fly around the parks in Zaragoza, which makes you think you're in a zoo. Once you realize you're not in a zoo and there are no goats to pet, you get a little sad. To the right is the view from our friends' apartment near the Logistics Center. They live near a small park but we have yet to see any goats in the area. Fifteen minutes away is my apartment, which

I share with four other guys from across the globe. Just ring the bell on one of those doors and one of us will come right down to let you in. Our address is Aparamento 4a, Fernando El Catolico 24, Zaragoza, Spain 50006. The address is posted mostly for my family who might send me peanut butter if I study hard, and also I don't know if my friends could figure out international postage. Our apartment is on one of the many divided streets in Zaragoza with a boulevard running through the middle of it. There are about a billion trees and shrubberies here so oxygen isn't a problem. There's even a bar in the middle of the boulevard where evening cocktails are served, but Anand, Marija, and Micah aren't thirsty. We walked from the apartment toward the river and the oldest part of the city, snapping pictures along the way. I felt like a tourist but until I start classes, I am. I like to take pictures of buildings and streets for some unknown reason, so bear with me. Speaking of bears, no, we have not seen any bears yet, but on Tuesday we're driving to the Pyrenees so keep your fingers crossed. Mopeds are very popular here, but they shouldn't call them Mopeds because you can't pedal them, you can only mo them. I hope to ride dozens of Mopeds while I'm in Spain, and maybe John can ride some when he gets to Paris.

After a while, we made it to the Pilar Basilica. The church was built in the 17th century in the Baroque style. Inside are many frescoes by Francisco Goya, a native of Zaragoza and local icon. If you look closely at the picture on the right, you can see the hawk that a Spaniard summoned to make the rainbow near our friends' apartment. It turns out Spaniards aren't that different from Canadians after all. The main differences are that Spaniards play futbol instead of hockey, drink sangria instead of molsen, look tan instead of pale, and talk with a lisp instead of saying "eh." Check out Francisco Goya looking like he's about to cry. Cheer up man, your frescoes rock.After such a journey, a feast is appropriate. Anand, Marija, Long Hai, Micah, and Jermaine pose for the camera.

Meet Spanish Nate

2005-08-21T07:15:00.000+02:00

It's time to meet Spanish Nate, which is my alter-ego while I'm in Spain. Before I introduce you, let me say that I have one more sister who has yet to make an appearance on the blog but she looks the most Spanish, so when my little sister emails the photos from the cape cod folder on the home computer to njweaver@gmail.com, I'll slip her into the Spanish mix for you.

I flew to Spain a week ago to find my fortune in logistics. I'm studying at the Zaragoza Logistics Center for nine months in Zaragoza, Spain, which is about halfway between Barcelona and Madrid. The flight was long but I had a pack full of treacle tarts to tide me over. The recipe for a treacle tart is: fill one tiny pie crust with maple syrup, add one treacle, and sit on it for a day. The result is a delight only the Brits could love.

I flew into Madrid by the light of noon, which is six hours ahead of the East Coast time. The time change wasn't a big deal except that I didn't have a watch or a clock or a phone, and also I didn't speak Spanish. Luckily the Spanish peoples are nice peoples and they directed me to the nearest honky so we could talk. This is a picture of me in the Madrid airport looking disoriented and culture shocked. Those are two dominating characteristics of Spanish Nate.

The train station in Madrid is completely over the top. There's a rainforest in the middle of it and the building can probably hold four or five treacle tart factories. There is also a pond with lilly pads and probably Spanish crocodiles in it, so watch your kids around it. Pictured with me at the train station is Francisco Lopez. Francisco was a famous treacle tart supervisor when a batch of hot syrup fell on him from the sky, forever capturing him with his checklist. At the time, Francisco was working on a new way to produce treacles, but his secret is now buried in the rainforest. Unfortunately, I couldn't ask any locals for any maps or clues to Francisco's secret treasure because of something called a "language barrier."

I took a bullet train to Zaragoza, which is not as dangerous as it sounds. The only tickets available were "preferentes," which means awesome in Spanish. At the train station I met Micah, who happened to be in my program and happened to be from Chicago and happened to have an awesome ticket too. We must have had our honkydars on full alert. In awesome class, you get your choice of newspaper, free movie (more valuable to Spanish speakers), and shrimp salad. There's a full meal, but you really get a shrimp salad. I tried to take some pictures from the bullet train but the train was going as fast as a bullet and my camera was no match for it.

When I got to Zaragoza (pronounced thar-a-go-tha with a lisp), I met Laura. Oh yeah, I forgot to mention that everyone here speaks Spanish with a lisp, including Laura. It doesn't affect the name Nathan so I'm most likely immune to it. Laura escorted me to the hostel where I met Long Hai and Jermaine. Guess which one is which. I now live with Long Hai, Jermaine, Micah, and Anand -- you'll meet them all later. Also pictured is Fellipo from Italia. Jermaine is giving Fellipo directions to the nearest bar where he can drink Mojitos and get punched in the face, which actually happened to him the night before.

After such a long journey, all I wanted to do was rest. So this week I've been moving into my apartment, tasting delicious treats, meeting my classmates, filling out top secret documents in triplicate, and snapping pictures of Zaragoza. All that jazz is for another time, though. Adios.

Viagra Falls

2005-08-19T11:41:00.000+02:00

On the way back from The Cod, Alissa, mom and I checked out Niagra Falls. This is possibly the greatest display of Mother Nature's awesometude that I have ever seen. Since they won't let you swim in the water, it's time to hit the casino! The scene isn't as spectacular as Vegas, but we ARE talking about Canadia here. I gambled for a while and left $0.25 up -- take that Canucks!

Check out my sista Alissa and I at our first modeling shoot. We were discovered while playing checkers in the park looking sassy.

If you can share hockey trivia with a Canadian for fifteen minutes, he'll send a hawk into the sky to make a rainbow -- they're just cool like that.

Escape to the Cape 2005

2005-08-18T11:36:00.000+02:00

In the beginning of August I drove the Jackson Hole to Chicago stretch in one day and it took about 20 hours. On the way I saw the beautiful cities of North Platte, Nebraska and Iowa City, Iowa. The plains states are marvelously entertaining, especially in the middle of the night. Luckily my car has an autopilot feature so I could get some sleep.

After stops in Chi-town-city and C-bus, I hit the road with my lovely ladies for Massechusetts. For anyone who hasn't been to Cape Cod before, don't expect a beach party, just expect to spend half your budget on stuff that says "I was in Cape Cod and it was pleasant." That's exactly what Cape Cod is -- pleasant. Check it out if you like plaid shorts, polo shirts, and deck shoes. While you're at it, check out my sister hangin and bangin with this African guy. Sisters like stuff from Africa, it's a fact. I think this guy got her number, but he was too chicken to call. It's a good thing too cause I would have broken his arm if he tried anything funny.

So Where Was I All Summer?

2005-08-17T19:00:00.000+02:00

Some of you beautiful people may be asking yourselves, "Where the hell was Nate this summer?" Well, after spending two memorable months at the Texas Roadhouse in Toledo, OH, I hit the road for Wyoming. When Neil the Real Deal Chamberlin gets back in September with his camera, I'll give you the dirt on those people and places. For now, suffice it to say that I had an awesome time fishing, hiking, and hanging out in Jackson Hole, aka paradise. The Pallisades Falls on the South Fork of the Snake River is one example of Mother Nature's awesometude.

Welcome

2005-08-13T20:40:00.000+02:00

Welcome to Open Skate with Nate, the site where everyone can skate regardless of age, sex, shoe size, or pancake filling preference. I'm busy packing for Spain but keep up with Open Skate for my latest adventure. I use the term adventure loosely and I like anything in my pancakes.