a guy could get used to this...

hey, that's my last name too!

Okay, my apologies for the delay, but sometimes life gets in the way of blogging. And by life, I mean a combination of work, play, the Red Sox, illness, and general malaise in front of a keyboard. But now I shall give a somewhat brief recap of our amazing adventures in Florida (with pictures).

With Kenny's GG's 95th birthday approaching, my father and his cousins decided that the time was ripe to hold the First Annual(?) Rolnick Family Reunion in Orlando. Bringing together GG and his two brothers, Carl and Leon, and their family to mix, mingle, and go visit the Mouse.

Since the onset of the Internet, I've discovered that there are a lot more Rolnicks out there than I had previously thought. Heck, in addition to something like seven Michael Rolnicks, I know of another Greg, and even a Kenneth. But before I tracked down those I wasn't directly related to, I thought it best to meet some of the ones who were a few branches closer on the family tree.

So we did what any good Jew who wanted to get in touch with his family would do...we went to Florida.

Before we met up with the clan, however, we stopped in for lunch with our friends Karen, Lawrence, and their daughter Dina. Overboard and Karen used to work together in Atlanta, and Karen and Lawrence moved down to Orlando a few years ago, because they missed dealing with hurricanes and excessive flooding.


You'd never be able to tell they were related, right?

Later that night was the first of two big family dinners, as well as a birthday party of sorts for GG. We got to meet a number of family members, but I think my nephew Adam was the happiest of us all, since there was another four year old boy, Kraig, who was not only family, but armed with toy cars and ready to play.

While Kenny had brought a car of his own to roll around, he entertained by giving rousing responses to "What does a cow say?" as well as "How big is Kenny" and "Did any of that food go in your mouth, or did all of it hit the floor where you thought the dog would be, even though she's hanging out at a friend's house back in Chicago?" The last one is a real mouthful. Mouthful. Hello? Anyone? C'mon...room full of Rolnicks and this is the response I get.


This way no one could say they hadn't been warned.

Leon, GG and Carl

The next day, Overboard, Kenny, GG, Unkie Mike, Aunt Carol, Cousin Hannah, Cousin Eric, Cousin Roberta and I all went to Epcot. While I hadn't been since 1991, Overboard (and Kenny and Hannah) had never been at all. I am proud to say that it is still impressive, remarkably clean, unbelievably organized, and full of chances to stock up on Disney merchandise. But mostly it was fun.


We bought a two day pass and saved $3. Outstanding.

Hannah is dubious that the wait to see Figment is actually zero minutes.

We went to lunch in Morocco. This is not a camera trick. The belly dancer's arms were really moving this quickly. Amazing.

GG and his niece (and my dad's cousin) Roberta.

The wine and food festival was going on throughout the countries of the world exhibition, so we couldn't resist getting a glass of rosé. Notice the giant golf ball in the background. This is why so many golfers are lured to South Florida.

That night, we had the second of our two family dinners. This one was at a local seafood restaurant, where I loaded up on a ginormous platter of fried shrimp while GG lamented that Americans were becoming morbidly obese because they were being over served. He might be right, but those shrimp were delicious.


Many Rolnicks gathering to feast.

On Sunday, we went to the Magic Kingdom en masse (the Glenview and Oakland Rolnicks, as well as Grandma Jackie, Grandpa Alan and GG). I am happy to report that it is, in fact, the happiest place on Earth. No really, the giant mouse told me so.


Evenkeel and Kenny prepare for a long day of fun in the sun.

Kenny made sure to properly pay his respects to the Mouse.

Four generations of Rolnick men (minus mouse ears).

The group shot in front of the summer home Grandpa Alan plans to buy when his software sales finally kick in.

At one point, while everyone else watched one of the many character parades from a VIP viewing stand, Mike and I slipped off to slam down a squishee and ride Space Mountain (in that order). After getting our necks popped around a few times in the dark, we hustled to the other side of the park to try and ride the other roller coaster (something with a runaway train). Unfortunately, the coaster was shut down for repairs and wouldn't be open.

Disappointed, but not down for the count, we tried to check the map for any other ride that posted warning signs, height restrictions, or other signs of trouble. We came up empty. However, I did remember from my last trip to Frontier Land, that there was a shooting gallery nearby. Hell, if we couldn't ride roller coasters, we might as well shoot fake air guns, right? Right. So we did. And it was entertaining.

In the midst of our revelry, Mike and I noted that there were a distinct lack of (non-costumed) insects in Disney World, which is unusual, as you're smack dab in the middle of Florida swampland. We also noted that, while the hotel had a plethora of tiny lizards running around, there were none to be seen inside any of the parks. We concluded that the good folks at Disney must be doing some unholy pesticide spraying at night, after everyone has gone home. But, you know, in the name of happiness.

Then we went and met up with everyone for ice cream.

We once again went to a seafood place for dinner (when in Florida, right?), but this time Kenny and Overboard stayed behind to catch up on some sleep. Apparently, vacationing can wreak havoc with nap times. This is not fun. Trust me on this.


Hannanh got into her jammies at dinner and then went to the high ground for a better view. According to Miss Xia Pao Pao, Table 8 could use more water.

On Monday, the Oakland and Glenview Rolnicks took GG to Sea World to go see some marine life and yell invective at Shamu ("You call that swimming? I've seen better form on a can of tuna!" And so on.).

My favorite part was when we went to see the Manatees and Overboard explained to Kenny that they were "sea cows." He nodded his head and uttered, "Moo."


Shamu action shot.

Kenny inaction shot. Vacations are exhausting, n'est-ce pas?

Back at the hotel, there was much rough-housing to be done.


"Hey Dad, Unkie Mike says I'd make a good battering ram. Is this true? Can I try?"

Grandpa Alan did not react kindly to the photographer who snapped this picture of him nursing a fat lip, courtesy of a head butt from his grandson Kenny. I tried to tell GA that's why we call him, "Iron Head," but he was nonplussed.

That night, Grandpa Alan and Grandma Jackie took Cousin Adam and the Glenview Rolnicks out for some Mexican food. The boys loved the woman who came by and made balloon animals (and hats) for them, and things were going swimmingly until Kenny tried to grab Grandma Jackie's hot fajitas plate. More stunned than burned, he was, shall we say, upset. And while he didn't resort to obscene hand gestures like his Grandpa, he took a little while to calm back down. Other than that, we had a great time. Really.


Kenny's new hat (pre-plate grabbing incident).

Finally, on Tuesday, it was time to go home. Kenny was an excellent traveler, and was very cute, carrying around his new Mickey Mouse (pronounced: "mih mow") so everyone would know where he had been.


Kenny and the Mouse look forward to a night back in their own crib and dream of the next time they 'll get to run amok at Disney World.

We had a lot of fun meeting everyone, but I do regret not spending more time chatting it up with the family members I had never met before. Instead, I found myself chasing after Kenny and kibitzing with the family that I know, but don't get to see often enough. I guess there's always next year.

There are A LOT more pictures than the ones posted above. You can see all of them by clicking here, or here.

family portraits

The Glenview Rolnicks

I realize that I keep mentioning the trip down to Orlando without actually writing about it (or posting the pictures), but that is coming next, I promise. In the meantime, I'd like to share a different set of pictures that my cousin Eric took. Classy pictures. In black and white.

Seriously, though, check these out. I think he did an awesome job. The only downside is that Kenny was in a grumpy mood when our picture was taken, which explains his sourpuss. Oh well.


Dr. Overboard & Prof. Evenkeel on vacation.

The birthday boy

Kenny's Grandpa and Grandma share a giggle.

The Easy Bay Rolnicks

Kenny's Aunt Carol and Unkie Mike

does this look like the face of a 95-year-old?

We'd like to send a belated "happy birthday" to my Grandpa Jesse, aka Kenny's beloved "GG," who just turned 95. While we celebrated down in Orlando, the big day was actually on Wednesday. To everyone who wonders where I get my genetic disposition to look about 20 years younger than I actually am...well, there you have it.

Which reminds me of a funny story. A few years back, on his birthday, GG went down to Costco to pick up a few things. While there, he was engaged in conversation with someone he described as "a gray-haired gentleman." This "elder statesman" complained to GG that things were getting harder and harder these days, but that's what happens when "you get to be my age." GG inquired as to just how old the man was and he replied, "75." GG laughed and looked the man in the eye before retorting, "I have ties older than you." This did not go over well and the man was quite upset. "Well, how old are you then?" he demanded. "92." The man was flabbergasted and refused to believe him.

"So, did you show him your driver's license?," I asked.
"I wouldn't give him the satisfaction."

And now I'd like to take a minute to honor GG, if I may (which I can...it's my blog, dammit).

In addition to being an outstanding role model and important figure in my life, GG is a remarkable man. In case you missed it, he just turned NINETY-FIVE and still: lives on his own, drives to the store during daylight hours, retains his curmudgeonly demeanor when presented with something he doesn't like (but in a charming way, of course), sends email and surfs the Web, always asks about his great-grandson and his beautiful mother, delights in watching his politically conservative son squirm at the fact that his own sons lean so far to the left, offers fairly sound advice when asked (and occasionally when not), keeps up with his progeny's progeny when wandering ginormous amusement parks in 88 degree weather, and knows how to both give and take a good-natured ribbing. Pretty impressive stuff.

Oh yeah, he also keeps his word, even if it means annually doling out four checks for a dollar amount equal to the years he's been around. Of course, in a few years he'll hit 100 and then we start paying him, and he's hell-bent on collecting. Honestly, we wouldn't expect any less or have it any other way.

bedtime books that shoot and score

A little while back, I placed a very hockey-centric online book order. In addition to two books for myself, I got three kid books to add to Kenny's library. They were:


This is a fun look at the alphabet, using hockey-related items. For instance, while Z is for zamboni, G is for the Great One, and V is for the Vezina Trophy. Instead of K for King Clancy, I always say that "K is for Kenny!" This is a popular, and shameless, way to go, and it is generally met with much approval. The downside of the book is that the entries are written in rhyme, and the rhymes aren't always of the highest caliber. Of course, I circumvent that by making up my own explanations for each entry. For example, whereas the book lists S for slashing, I call it S for skating. And where it says T is for tripping (which sends you to the penalty box), I say T is for time-out. As in, when Daddy gets called by the malicious referees for tripping, he begrudgingly takes a time-out and feels much shame.

The other rhyme-based book is called, "Hat Tricks Count" and teaches numbers by associating them with various hockey-related things (hat tricks, famous jersey numbers, players on the ice, etc.).

This is the less interesting of the two, but Kenny does like to help me count the various hockey players, trophies, and piles of pucks. Speaking of which, he's getting very good at pointing out the puck, the goalie, the zamboni, and even sticks and skates. I'm extremely proud of both my boy and my subtle hockey-indoctrination process.

The final book is a fun read, but more for when he's a little older and has more patience per page. It's also a paean to a hockey legend who played for Overboard's hometown Bruins.

Oh yeah, this story is always prefaced by my best, "Goal by numbah foah, Oah."

While Kenny hasn't taken a shine to the book (yet), I love it. I mean, who doesn't love the whole sports hero hits a home run for the kid in the hospital story, except, you know, on the ice? Brilliant.

As I have mentioned in the past, I run the risk of alienating instead of indoctrinating. Kenny could rebel against my hockey enthusiasm and embrace golf instead. Or, worse still, he could catch on to the whole "big in Canada" thing, but accidentally become enamored of curling. That would be bad, but I'll take my chances.

vocabulary list

Here are two of Kenny's new words, which are starting to emerge in energetic bursts:

Animauxs (animals) - A word that came in handy when Grandma Jackie and Grandpa Alan took him and his cousin Adam to Disney's Animal Kingdom.

'ank 'oo (thank you) - Something Overboard has been working on steadily with Kenny, this phrase made its first official appearance at the same time as "animals." We're proud that Mr. K was so polite while hanging out with his grandparents.

kenny's posse

Allow me, if you will, to introduce a few of Kenny's closest friends, co-conspirators and cohorts.

First up is Edgar the Elephant.

Edgar spends most of his time hanging out in Kenny's crib and is known for his exceptional snuggling technique, as well as his listening ability (must be those ears). Edgar enjoys napping, surfing, and sharing blankets. Edgar dislikes being thrown in the air, tossed over the side of the crib, and people who immediately assume he's a Republican (he's a registered Independent).

Next we meet Lenny the Lion.

Lenny prefers to spend his quality time in the basement play area, though he has been known to frequent the pack n' play in the living room. Lenny is known for his sense of humor (he loves to tell bad monkey jokes), acrobatic abilities, and strong but silent persona. While Lenny gets overlooked a bit more than he'd prefer, he does elicit a good "roar" from Kenny every once in a while. For the record, Lenny is indeed a Leo, but he claims to have "very Gemini tendencies." I have no idea what that means, either.

Finally, we have the penguin who runs the show behind the scenes in Kenny's room, Pablo Escobar.

Now, I know what you're saying, "But Evenkeel, that's Pablo from the Backyardigans, not a notorious South American drug kingpin." Well, that's debatable. In the meantime, I will say that Pablo enjoys playing the xylophone while watching reruns of Entourage, cultivating his exotic hat collection, and daydreaming about trips outside the house. On the downside, Pablo has a quick temper and often sulks when Kenny elects to play with other members of his posse. Personally, I try not to let him out of my site, but you just can't track a penguin all of the time, unless you get a device that I don't know how to use and can't afford. Oh well. Pablo would like the world to know that he's actually only a mediocre swimmer, but an excellent long distance runner.

tubby time with the crew of the calypso

Kenny has a submarine play set that he received from his cousins in Oakland a while back, but we finally broke it out the other night at bath time. As Mr. K splashed around I felt compelled, as I often do, to offer running commentary.

This was done in my best French accent, as the voice of Jacques Cousteau narrated the adventures of Jean-Claude and the Calypso's submersible.

"Bonjour, mes amis, as we join another voyage into ze murky depths with trepid oceanographer, Jean-Claude. Today, we are to explore ze churning waters of Lac du Kenny; 'ome to many forms of bacteria and magnifique things . On y va!"

Kenny was nonplussed, but Overboard thought I was hysterical. I'll take those odds.

if i were a cartoon character...or maybe just temporarily blinded

I went to the optometrist yesterday for the first time in a few years. This meant that I needed to have a barrage of tests run, including the eye chart, the wind in the eye trick, and multiple rounds of "look at this bright light until you feel blind, but for the love of all that is holy, don't blink."

I'm totally peeved at myself for blowing my glorious chance at optometrist humor as well. Back when I was a kid, I used to have lots of fun going to the doctor's office each year and messing around with the nurse as she ran the various tests. For instance, when they tested my reflexes, my knee wouldn't just bounce, it would practically have a seizure. And when they performed the hearing test, I would fall off the seat in apparent agony every time I heard the beep. Yes, they loved me.

But the best, the absolute pinnacle, was something my brother taught me. When they give you the eye test and ask you to read the bottom line, you say, "Made in Taiwan."

So I'm sitting there, and the woman asks me, "What's the smallest line you can read?" But what do I say? Something clever? Something funny? Maybe the line about "Made in Taiwan?" Nope. I say, "A...Z...D...and...2?"

I suck.

Just for kicks, they also dilated my pupils. I've never actually had this done before, and it was odd to say the least. Not only did my eyes become acutely aware of how incredibly freakin' bright it was in the office waiting room, but everything went blurry too. It was like, I dunno, I didn't have my contacts in or something. But more annoying.

After giving me a new prescription and some contact lenses to test out, they sent me home. Yes, they let me drive home. This turned into the scariest two mile drive ever, as I had my hat pulled down low over my sunglasses, but still could barely keep my eyes open due to the blinding sunshine. There was also about 276 billion extra cars on the road for some stupid reason, and all of their license plates were illegible. The entire way home I kept wondering just what the hell I was doing, and better yet, what the hell was my new eye doctor thinking?

Maybe my car was bugged and being recorded for some sort of terrible reality TV show. It's a theory.

Thankfully, after a few hours, everything went back to normal, but not before I had Overboard snap this picture for posterity:

Check out those peepers. Flattering pic, no?

POSTSCRIPT:
Overboard cracked me up by initially refusing to take the picture, under the guise of "the flash will fry your retinas or something!" I tried to politely explain that my eyes had already been exposed to everything short of radiation therapy, and that a flash would probably be okay. It sounded something like, "Listen, you out of focus woman, take the damn picture!"

the sushi was delicious, but the race was overcooked

Once again, Overboard's cousin Robin came to Chicago from Atlanta to run the Chicago Marathon. Keeping with her new tradition, we took her out to Sushi Mike's from some pre-race sushi (because nothing says, "I'm about to test the limits of my endurance" like a few spicy Jo-Jo hand rolls). The meal was awesome (as usual), and Robin regaled us with tales of the Genesis concert she attended earlier in the week, and of stalking, er, arranging to meet, Phil Collins back at the hotel they both were staying at.


Overboard's the one who's smiling because she isn't running. Robin is the one who is smiling because she doesn't seem to realize what she's about to undertake.

Sushi Mike. Personal chef to long-distance runners everywhere.

Today, Overboard went downtown to cheer Robin on while Kenny and I stayed home and later took a visit to the kid's museum.

Unfortunately, the weather conditions were less than perfect for the runners. Actually, the conditions were terrible. It was around 90 degrees, and the heat caused numerous issues, and even one fatality. Consequently, the race was actually called early, and many runners didn't finish, as the course was closed due to safety concerns.


The annual running of the crazy people.

Luckily(?) for Robin, she was deep enough into the race that she was able to finish. Overboard wasn't able to see her along the course, but did meet up with Robin at the finish line, where she reported that our remarkable runner was "incredibly upbeat." Must've been the painkillers.


Robin smiles deliriously at the finish line.

This answers the question of how she paid for the training, travel, etc. - corporate sponsorship and naming rights!

Robin and her Chicago fan club - Overboard and Robin's friend, Lisa.

Normally I'd launch into my whole, "I don't get why anyone who wasn't being chased would run 26.2 miles" spiel, but I'll let it go. People do weird things, what can I say?

I guess I can say this: Congrats, Robin. May you sleep exceptionally well this evening.


"I don't have to do this again for a whole year!"

kenny fashion

While it's not our normal policy to give money to paparazzi photographers, we couldn't help ourselves with this one. Apparently, Kenny was spotted at daycare sporting a snazzy, clear backpack. Our young, hip, fashion icon insists that "all of the kids"* will be wearing them this season, and encouraged us to "fill it with toys."**


While the picture is of dubious quality, it has been officially verified as being Kenny, and by his mother's estimation, "Wicked Cute."


*Actual statement: "Da, me, dar, off, nigh' nigh', ay-yi-yi-yi..."

**Actual statement: "Moo"

where's kenny?

Kenny loves to play "Where's Kenny?" Whether he's using a blanket, towel, shirt, or his hands to cover his face, he gets a big kick out of hearing, "where's Kenny?" and then revealing his face with a flourish.

Of course, in his excitement to play, he'll often smack his hands over his eyes with such force that I'm afraid he's going to bruise himself. Like I said, he really loves this game.