Who we are and where we roam

I thought a list might help you figure out who’s who, not that the cast is anything as extensive as a Russian novel.


I chronicle the antics of my family and take a laissez-faire approach to parenting. That is until my wife whips me into shape. I like reading, writing and keeping an organized house. The latter is a rarity. So too is surfing, a passion of my youth that continues today even though I look nothing the part.


This is my wife. She keeps us in order and on top of things – and laughing. She’s got wit to kill. I laugh a lot. I’m also in trouble a lot. She’s English.

The Eldest Girl

This is our eldest daughter. She’s into music and wants to be a marine biologist. She surfs and loves horses. She’s got cowboy boots and a killer hat, and also a great solution to litter: pick it up!

The Middle Boy

This is the middle boy. Skip the cake. He’ll go for the fruit salad any day. Then ask for seconds. He loves football. But not sea lions – they stink! He likes to keep time and count the steps as he walks up them. He’s mildly autistic.

The Youngest

This is the youngest, aka The Rascal. You know when she’s around. She’s got a foghorn inside her that when sounded, and that’s often, is like fingernails on a chalkboard. She’s got a comeback for just about anything, and isn’t shy about saying it out loud.


Four-Ton was our dog. She was big, lazy and weighed a ton. No wonder. She would polish off the rest of your dinner after you’d scraped it into the trashcan and then go for that cake cooling on the countertop. She thought of herself as one of the kids and almost was. Leave her behind and she’d mope and eat the soap and forage for a few good toys to chew on. We miss her.

The Others

Others make appearances in these stories, from aunts to uncles, grandparents, friends and plenty of cats. And, oh, we do see dinosaurs and monsters, witches and a terrible giant called Bim Bam Boom. You do too, right?

Where We Roam


Buenos Aires

It’s a big and noisy city, and getting around can prove an adventure.


Pinamar is the reason for these writings. We lived there for more than two years. It was paradise: a house in a pine forest within blocks of the beach and fine surfing. The open space sure beat a cramped city apartment for growing and energetic kids – and kept us parents sane. Then we had to return to the fast-paced city. Except during the summer when we slow our lives down again in our pine tree paradise.