Archive for Commercial Fishing Crew

Celebrating Those Who Have Returned From Sea, Mourning Those Who Will Not.

George and the crew have returned from the 2014 Dungeness crab season. I have not yet gone down to the harbor to snap pictures of the post-season gear work that consists of getting 500 pots off the boat, stacking them in lockers at the harbor, and a variety of other tasks. This year’s crab season was not great, as there were very few crab around.

The upside is that George said there were many “recruits.” Recruits are all the female and young crab the guys throw back into the ocean. These crab indicate a potentially boom season in the next couple of years. Fishing seasons run in cycles, and we don’t get too upset about a slow season, knowing it will come back around as it always does.

The important thing is that everyone arrived home safe and alive. You never know, when you wave the boat off at the start of a season, if that will be the last time you see one of the guys you are waving to. Without fail, I go to the harbor and wave and hug and send the boat off  at the start of every single season, because you just never know.

Tragically, the Oregon commercial fishing community will not receive one of their fishermen home this year. Just last week, our sister fishing community lost one of their own to the Bering Sea. Eric Eder, who by accounts from every single person in the Oregon fishing family was an upstanding, awesome, fun, friendly, wonderful man, leaves behind a beautiful wife and young family. You can read more here.

This hurts everyone. Personally, news like this always causes me to reflect back to 1997, when my own brother-in-law, Danny, was lost to the sea during the Alaska crab season. Married just a few months, my sister’s vibrant and exuberant husband was never found. I’ve written a bit about Danny here. I have never shared much about the grief of our families on my blog or otherwise, because the grief is so private and painful.

However, I will never forget going about my regular morning all those years ago. Then, the phone call. The panic. The confusion. The denial. The hope that it was all a mistake. The realization. The horror.

The fact that another family is experiencing this right now leaves us all with a heavy heart. We welcome and celebrate the fishermen who have returned safe to the harbor, but mourn the ones who will never return. We cry for  their wives, their children, their families, their friends.

And please, don’t forget the Lady Cecelia. Just two years ago, in March of 2012, I wrote about my thoughts concerning the tragedy of this Oregon trawler that disappeared into the sea in a matter of seconds off the Washington Coast, taking all four crew members with her. You can read that post here.

If you are able, I encourage you to take a moment and give to the family of Eric Eder. Donations can be made here.

Imagine if you were a fishing wife one moment and a fishing widow the very next. If financial giving is not an option, please pray for Eric Eder and his family. I can tell you that time does not do much to ease the excruciating pain of a fisherman lost, but every little bit of kindness, love, and support does help.

God Bless, Eric Eder.

God Bless, Eric Eder.


What “Fishing Family” Means To Me

The part about a “fishing family” operation I like the most is the part about “family.”

I don’t just mean my father and mother, my sisters, my aunt and uncle, my grandparents and great-grandparents and cousins and second cousins, husband and children.

I also mean crew.

If you’re lucky like we have been, from the time my dad owned and operated our boat until the time my husband has owned and operated our boat, our crew has been more than crew. They are family. The crew has been made up of different men, but no matter who they were and when, they’ve been like family and operated like a family does in times of joy and crisis.

If you’ve been a reader of this blog the past seven years, you know how much our present crew means to me personally. Not one of these guys is new. I met Bryan the same day I met George, thirteen years ago at Fred Wahl Marine Construction. Bryan’s best friend, Brett, came on board when my seven-year-old Eva was only nine months old. Bryan’s brother, Johnny, has been with us at least four years.

We are connected by years, friendship, family, love, laughs, and loyalty. How many dinners, pizza parties, Fish Expos, weddings, births, departures, homecomings, and nights out have we celebrated together?  Countless.

We aren’t a big fishing operation in which thirty men work processing fish for months on end and nobody knows or cares much about anybody. On the contrary, we know and care much about each other and our families. When someone is expecting a baby, we rejoice. When someone’s marriage is rocky, we see it through with love and encouragement. When someone hurts, we all hurt. When someone’s demons wreak havoc, we cross fingers and hope for the best.

At the beginning of this latest crab season, as I watched the boat glide out of the harbor, I wrote that I shed tears because one just never knows whether everyone on board will return. People can die, people can quit, people can be fired. Anything can happen. Today, I shed tears because not each member of our “family” will return from this crab season. (Note: nobody has died, been fired or injured, and that is the most important thing.)

This is my family, our family. Our fishing family. And when one member hurts, we all hurt. Bad.

But like you’d expect and hope from family, we rally. We rally with love, and support, and encouragement, and hope….for all in the family.

This is, in part, what “fishing family” means to me.

Goodbye, G. Love and Miss You Still.

And just like that…he’s gone.

After what was supposed to be a decent amount of time off—and was caught unbelievably short by the problematic installation of a brand new $150K main engine and other projects—G is underway towards the 2013 Dungeness crab season.

We pulled off a fantastic grand finale: I managed to secure a babysitter, and G and I went out with Bryan, Brett, Johnny, and two additional family friends. We all shared some drinks, some laughs, a few stories, and a few insults before calling it a night.

If you know G and me, you know that this has been a more difficult time off than usual for us. But I tell you, these guys are all my family. When I get to spend time with my “family” I feel renewed, energized, and better able to handle what’s coming next.

My heart sank when I watched G leave tonight. My chest tightened, my throat constricted, and I waved him off quickly before the tears began to stream and the children noticed.

And then, he was gone.

Watching the boat glide out of the harbor on a cold and dark night is both sad and beautiful.

Watching the boat glide out of the harbor on a cold and dark night is at once sad and beautiful.

Thankful for Awesome Commercial Fishing Kids and a Great Crew!

Since it’s Thanksgiving, I’ll say that I’m very thankful for G and the crew, who work hard in scary ocean weather all over Washington and Alaska throughout the year to provide for their families.  I’m especially thankful to have had the same group of guys around the past five to twelve years. We get to hang out each pre-and-post season, celebrate marriages and the addition of children (there’s about a dozen kids among us all), sympathize during hard times, and continue strengthening bonds year after year. It’s not that common to have the same crew season after season, and we are fortunate.

I’m also thankful for my fishing kids, who never  complain or feel sorry for themselves that they have a father who must go to sea and be away from home. On the contrary, they are proud of their dad. They understand who he is, what he does, and they have pride in their family and heritage. They also love Brett, Bryan, and Johnny, and visiting the harbor to see the operation at work.

As a matter of fact, I am proud of all the little fishing kids I know in my community. These little ones range in age from ten months to seven years old and beyond, and they could not be a sweeter, more caring, smarter bunch of children. They come from  responsible and hardworking families, and their resilient spirits are a credit to their parents.

Vincent’s best friend in kindergarten is actually a little fellow whose father is also a fisherman. When I told Vincent that H’s father was also a crab captain, Vincent could not have been more thrilled.

“So we have the SAME DAD?!” he asked, beaming from ear to ear.

Uh, not exactly…lol!

A funny thing happened yesterday for which I’m also thankful; G sold his flatbed truck. He’s used that faithful Ford for years to tow thousands of pounds of Dungeness crab to various fresh markets, as well as stack it sky-high with crab pots and tow forklifts and everything else.

G recently bought a new truck for the same purpose, but hadn’t yet listed the original flatbed. It was on his “to do list” along with a million other things.

However, out of nowhere yesterday, a random man at an electric shop the same time as G leaned his head out of his own truck window asked if G was interested in selling his flatbed. Interested? Heck yeah! Two hours later, the truck had a happy new owner. No listing, fielding phone calls, or detailing necessary. Sweet!

Now, getting back to Dungeness crab gear work in the pre-season…

After buoy painting, George and the crew move into splicing lines and rigging crab pots.

For readers unfamiliar with the term “splicing,” it involves taking apart the end of a line (rope) and weaving the strands of the end back into itself to create an “eye.”

The guys go over and through each of the 500 crab pots, checking for holes, making repairs, putting on the new zincs, and getting them ready to load on the boat.

Here are a handful of pictures of George and the crew (Bryan, Brett, and John) overhauling pots five years ago:




And here are the same fellas just yesterday (along with Eva and Valerie. Vincent was still at school).

Happy Thanksgiving, all! Time to take it down a notch, relax, and enjoy a day with the fam. :)

Dungeness Crab Gear Work Part One: Painting Buoys.

The Dungeness crab season begins each year with between three and four weeks of gear work before the boat is ready to go. The first part of gear work usually begins with buoy painting.

George has about 600 buoys to paint. Some buoys are new and need to be painted for the first time, while others are older and have peeling paint that needs to be touched up.

Buoys must be painted so that the gear of each boat is distinguished and recognized from that of the other 220-plus boats in our Dungeness crab fleet. If each boat did not have its own original buoy-paint scheme, the buoys would all look the same and nobody would know whose were whose. A picture is also taken of each boat’s uniquely painted buoy and sent to the State for filing.

It takes George and the crew about five full days to paint and tie (attaching the line that will secure the buoy to the crab pot) all of the buoys.

One year, George and I were taking an easy drive through Oysterville when, to George’s surprise, he spotted one of his crab buoys attached to the buoy-decorated fence surrounding the home of a coastal resident. Apparently, the buoy had broken free from its accompanying crab pot out on the open ocean and washed ashore. (About a month later, we got a phone call that one of his crab pots was sitting upon the dock in Ilwaco, just a little further south. Coincidence?)

Fishing wives and other family are not exempt from buoy painting.

I’ve painted buoys at the beginning of more than one season. My dad has helped at times, and so has George’s dad when he’s visited from Florida. It’s not an easy job: The weather is freezing and the work is long. It didn’t take long during my first year of buoy-painting before I marched down to the fisheries supply store and purchased a full Carhartt insulated suit to wear to keep out the chill.

I’m not painting much these days (at all, actually). Brett and I recently offered to trade places for a day (he’d take care of the kids for an afternoon, and I’d show up to the harbor in my painting gear) but G wasn’t having it. Hey—don’t say I never offered. :)


Our dear, sweet Toby, who “helped” paint buoys for six years before he passed away from cancer. We miss you so much, Bo Bo’s.

Two months after our Toby passed away, I found out I was pregnant with Valerie. Here she is with Dad on her first buoy-painting experience.

Johnny and Bryan.

Brett, Johnny, and Bryan.

A Sunny Departure to Longline Season 2012

Well, Siri is going to help me out again with composing a blog post. I’ve been waiting for an opportunity to sit down and type, but it isn’t going to happen. So, here I am again, holding baby Valerie, talking at my iPhone!

George and the crew got underway to Alaska last Saturday evening. They steamed out of the harbor underneath a beautiful spring evening sun.


They have a lot of halibut and blackcod to catch, so I hope they get on the fish quickly and get it caught before too long into summer. I am so looking forward to summertime and George being here for most of it!

George had one week off in between fishing seasons, but that one week occurred at the same time as the kids’ spring break, so that worked out well. I was able to get in a much–needed hair appointment while he was here, and I even got a pedicure. There was not any time for a massage, but that will leave me something to look forward to when he comes back!

Eva and Vincent have done very well regarding their dad’s departure. I think watching Daddy leave in the sun helped. It’s not as dreary or depressing as watching him depart underneath dark clouds and pouring rain, like during crab season.


We had a little Easter celebration the morning George left. The Fisherman Bunny came early and the kids had a great time searching for eggs, not to mention the fun they had coloring them the day before. They decorated eggs with our friend and babysitter, Hailey, and they also decorated some with me. The eggs they colored with Hailey were a lot cuter than mine!


Each day for the kids and me is incredibly full. We move from one task to the next until about 8 o’clock at night, at which point all books are put away, teeth are brushed, everything stops, and we all go to bed. Even Mom!

Eva is a great little helper and she gives me a small break each evening when she holds Valerie so I can get up and do a couple of things like empty the dishwasher or put laundry away.

I think we have a pretty good system going for now. If we can just keep it up for the next three months and nothing throws a wrench into our routine, we will be good to go.



A Commercial Fishing Family’s Worst Nightmare.

One subject I don’t spend a lot of time writing about on this blog, although it’s a blog about fishing families, is the ever–looming threat to fishing families of deaths and disaster at sea.

You may have heard by now about the Lady Cecelia, a trawler out of Oregon, that went down (sank) in a matter of seconds seventeen miles off the coast of southern Washington, taking all four crewmembers with her. Unless you have a direct tie to commercial fishing and fishermen, you may have shrugged off the story and the catastrophe as just another boat, just another crew, just another run of bad luck in the industry.

But when you are profoundly connected to the industry and you look at a picture like the one included in the article, you stop. You stare. You look intently into the face of one of the men that was lost and you see your own husband, your dad, your brother. If you are a fisherman, perhaps you halt for a moment, seeing yourself.

You continue to look at the picture and see the two-year old boy, dressed just like his daddy in Xtra Tuffs and orange rain gear, sitting on Daddy’s lap on the boat. Your heart overflows with grief and sorrow that this daddy, whom the child clearly adores, is now lost. Maybe in the little boy you see your own little son or daughter, your grandchild, or your nephew.

One reason I don’t write much about the potential for and reality of tragedy in our profession—one of the world’s most deadly professions—is because I can’t. The thought is always in my mind as I go about my day and drift off to sleep at night. Having already lost my brother-in-law fifteen years ago to the sea during an Alaska crab season (you can read a bit about him here), the memory of that horror and disbelief lives on in my heart. I don’t like to bring it to the forefront by writing often about it.

As a grandchild, child, wife, sister, and mother in a fishing family, and as someone who has actually fished, I have to get distance from the risks and possibilities. I can’t dwell on the “what ifs”. I have to stay focused on the day-to-day; my children to care for, a household to maintain, pets to feed. I stay busy with my children, my activities, my friends, and family.

Sometimes, though, I wonder. What would I do if I received word that George was lost? If one of the crew was lost? If the entire boat was gone? How would I tell our children? What would I tell them? How would we ever continue?

I think of the practical aspects. Would I keep this house and find comfort in the memories and familiarity of it, or would I find it too large, too sad, and decide to sell it? What would I do about the business-end of things? Our operation is rather involved and complicated, especially for a family fishing operation. Would I understand how to handle the IFQs? What do I do with hundreds of crab pots, a locker full of longline tubs, lines, seine nets, gear, permits, documents, and loans? Besides family, who would I trust to understand and help me in these matters?

I was in my early 20s when my brother-in-law, Danny, died. He and my sister had recently been married and they did not have children. All these years later, I still remember the way well-meaning family and friends, all who’d come to lovingly offer us comfort and condolence, spoke quietly among themselves. I remember one comment I heard again and again.

“At least they didn’t have children.”

As I heard this repeatedly over the days and weeks following the accident, I wondered about it. I’ve continued to wonder about it through the years, going over the comment in my mind and looking at both sides.

“At least they didn’t have children.”

What would be worse, I’ve wondered? Having to look into the precious faces of your young ones and tell them they no longer have a living father? Would it be better to not suffer that grief? Or is it better to have a living piece of your spouse still in the world in the form of little ones with his laugh, his expressions, perhaps even his character?

Last night, our children (Eva, 6, and Vincent, 4) overheard bits and pieces of George and I quietly discussing the tragedies of this week (a total of six fishermen in separate accidents who died at sea on the Washington and Oregon coasts). In particular, the children wanted to see the picture of the fisherman and his son; we did not show it to them.

We knew that if they saw the picture of the fisherman sitting on the boat with his little one in his lap, they would see their own daddy. They would see the other fisherman daddies they know and love; Bryan, and Brett, and Johnny, and Oscar. If they saw the picture of the little boy, they would see themselves and each other. And they would be scared, and they would cry, and they would worry.

But I’ve looked at the picture dozens of times. I choke back tears in silence away from the children, because only the mommies and the daddies should worry. We may keep that worry in the back of our minds or deep in our hearts, we may not talk about it, and we don’t often write about it, but we do. We worry.

All the time.

May the Dungeness Crab and Baby Party Begin Already!

The boat left with a load of Dungeness crab pots last weekend. Although it is always sad to hug G goodbye and wave the crew off, it’s also kind of a relief. Especially this year. There has been so much waiting, wondering, and anticipation as to when the gear work will end, when the boat will leave for Westport, when the season will start, and if the weather will cooperate.

And of course, this year we have the added anticipation of a baby due on the exact day George and the fellas will dump five-hundred crab pots to the bottom of the ocean, hoping the season will be profitable and safe for the five families—including at least a dozen children combined—who are relying on it.

No pressure!

Ah, what can you do? That’s life, moving forward the way life tends to do.

Here are a few pictures of this year’s Dungeness Crab Season 2012 Departure Day:

What an awesome, sweet, and tough crew we have in Bryan, Johnny, Brett, Oscar, and George.

Precious and resilient commercial fishing kids watching Dad pull away from the dock.

Johnny on top of the pots.

George will have a few days at home in between getting the boat to Westport and when the season officially begins, so here’s still hoping the baby decides to arrive during the window in which he is home.

I’m ready.

The kids’ bedroom switch and redesign is complete; Vincent has cool new bunk beds, Eva has her rainbow/butterfly/flower room. Holidays are over, children are back in school, preschool, and activities. House is clean, Christmas presents are put away, writing invoices have been sent off.

I’m tired of waiting; I’m looking ahead already to springtime, capris, sandals, renewed energy, evenings of sunshine and bayside cocktails, and a body I can actually move with ease and feel comfortable within.

Time to get this party started! :)


I love this picture of Vincent; he looks like he just climbed off a Dutch Harbor fishing vessel.

Holiday Gift Ideas For Your Commercial Fisherman

I wrapped up my Cyber Monday shopping this morning. George occasionally reads my blog, so I can’t mention what I purchased, but things went fairly smoothly and I am glad that part of shopping is over. I took a break from ordering gifts midway through to come over and check my blog statistics. When I looked through this morning’s search terms, I saw that somebody else was wondering what to buy a commercial fisherman for the holidays.

A long time ago I wrote and published a list of unique gifts with which to send your man to sea, but that  list was not quite right for this particular search. So, I decided to create a new list right now of things one might consider getting a commercial fisherman for Christmas.

If you have any other ideas, please leave them in the comments section! I would love to read and add them to the list!

Holiday Gift Ideas For Your Commercial Fisherman

  • Gift pack of his favorite treats to take on the boat. Candy, cookies, peanuts, crackers, chips, etc.
  • A special “boat cup” (Not glass, boat-safe, can be bought at fisheries supplies or sporting goods stores).
  • New set of boat dishes; the kind you buy at marine supply stores made of hard plastic with non-skid rubber on the bottoms.
  • New galley towels. They get dirty and ruined so fast, it’s nice to have something fresh and clean!
  • A photo of yourself, the children, or the pets in a frame.
  • Create a photo book of your favorite pictures at Snapfish, Shutterfly, or Costco. They are easy and fun to make, and you can add quotes and messages on every page if you want. He can take the book with him on the boat when he leaves next.
  • A photo calendar. I create them every year and send one with G to look through in the wheelhouse throughout his months away.
  • A book. A light read is usually better (skip the self-help or how to improve your relationship, ha ha!).
  • Have kids? Have them draw pictures that you can bind together (or let a copy shop bind) into a book.
  • Magazine subscriptions.
  • Warm winter hat.
  • Gift card to a fisheries supply store.
  • New rubber gloves.
  • A small portable DVD player and a couple of DVDs to go with it.
  • iTunes gift card.
  • iPod.
  • Noise-cancelling headphones.
  • Dinner gift certificate to use together when he is at home.
  • Massage gift card.
  • A warm, snuggly new boat blanket or sleeping bag.
  • Fresh new boat pillow and pillow case.
  • Nice, fluffy boat shower towel.
  • Long underwear made especially for sub-zero temperatures.
  • An e-reader; Kindle, Nook, iPad, whichever you like. I got George an inexpensive Kindle for his birthday, not sure if he would be into digital reading or not. As it turns out, he loves it! He reads his Kindle all the time whether at home or on the boat.
  • Visit Personal Creations or Lillian Vernon online and create personalized gifts.
  • At Personal Creations you can make a “World’s Greatest Longliner” or “World’s Greatest Crabber” (you get the idea) t-shirt. Another fishing wife and I surprised each other last year when we both made the same exact shirts for our husbands and then posted pictures of the shirts on Facebook!
  • Personal Creations also offers a humorous gray hooded sweatshirt with “Dad’s Beer” written on the front and an actual pouch for the beer. I got a pair of these for my brother-in-law, Ryan, and my husband, George, last year and I’m surprised to report they actually wore them (Well, Ryan did, at least) and the beer did stay in place! (item number 30027119)
  • Engraved and personalized beer mugs, pitchers, and shot glasses.
  • Along the same lines, an engraved leather hip beer holster from Personal Creations. Your husband can work on the grill or on the gear with a beverage attached to his belt with a nylon leg strap for extra security. (item number 30029868)
  • The “Man Cave” or “Eat, Sleep, Fish” or “Home Theater” –style wall signs and doormats from Personal Creations and Lillian Vernon.
  • Team Daddy” or “Daddy’s Little Fishing Buddies” shirts and sweatshirts.

(Note:  I’m definitely not trying to promote the drinking fisherman image (I spend too much time fighting it) and I don’t hold stock in Personal Creations or Lillian Vernon, but their gifts are fairly inexpensive, fun, and I enjoy flipping through the catalogs each year. Free shipping and discounts of 25% off orders is another draw.)

If you have additional ideas, please share so we can grow the list!


Additional Gift Ideas For Your Commercial Fisherman:

From Lori French of The Faces of California Fishing (excellent, Lori!):

  • Electric blanket for crab season.
  • Binoculars.

From Robin Blue of The Fishing Blues (also excellent, Robin!):

  • Head lamp for bunk reading.
  • Wool socks.

From Beci (via the Facebook group Commercial Fishing Families & Friends)

  • Talking picture frame. Dad will love a frame that features a recording of his child or children speaking. He can take it with him to sea and listen to it over and over again.

I’m Pretty Sure the Crew Doesn’t Cry Over Broccoli.

I don’t think anyone is more excited than me for the iPhone 4S to make its début on Friday. I’ve been eligible for an upgrade for at least two years, but I’ve put it off because I kept waiting for iPhone 5 to come out. Well, the heck with more waiting; the 4S is going to be amazing and I’m clearing my schedule for Friday so I can go get the phone and then play with it all day and night.

George has continued work on the boat every day to get a jump on it before the Dungeness crab crew shows up. In fact, he just warned me today that he’s working this weekend as well.  I’ve tried to get him to stick around the house and hang out with me a bit now and again when it’s nice and quiet and the kids are at school, but no dice.  The boat’s still hauled out, paint has arrived, the welder is coming….

I have already consulted with my parents, though, and they are going to have the kids over one weekend before crab season starts and the baby arrives. In fact, my mom put it on my kitchen calendar herself.  I’ll be sure and give G plenty of advance warning. If he still can’t make it, I’ll just pack my little bag and head to the nearest fancy hotel for a spa day and a night of fine dining and rest.  :)

It occurred to me the other day that having your firstborn in kindergarten is a lot like when your firstborn was a newborn. Like a brand new mom in awe over her baby, I’m so proud of everything Eva is doing.  Look, Eva is the line leader for the field trip! Awe; look how cute she is in her jeans and cowgirl boots!  Look how she gets off the bus! Oh, that’s cute! She’s checking out library books! She’s leaving little notes with practice writing all over the house! What a sweet, smart girl!

Remember how the hospital photographer comes around before you leave with your newborn and you study the portrait packages, agonizing over which one to choose? That’s how it went yesterday with Eva’s first official school pictures. As I did when she was born, I went a bit overboard on the package and the extras. If you are on my Christmas card list, be prepared to receive a wallet-sized picture of Eva. Or a mini-wallet-sized picture of Eva. In fact, I have so many pictures of Eva coming I could send one to all my Facebook friends.

Or…I can provide you with a refrigerator magnet of Eva. How about a bookmark of Eva?  Door hanger? Sticker? Better yet, if you receive Christmas gifts from me, you may well have an Eva gift tag attached to your present this year.

Not to be left out, of course, is my sweet buddy, Vincent. I’m constantly amazed at the growth he’s shown in his first month of preschool. For the first time, he’s showing interest in art and receiving compliments on his work. He’s recognizing his name and attempting to write it. He’s memorizing and singing all the songs he learns. And just yesterday, while bike riding with Grandpa, he mastered pedaling and balance without training wheels or assists.

He even accompanied Eva’s kindergarten class on their field trip to the fire station and I was so proud of the way he listened so well to the firemen, raised his hand to ask questions, and walked with the group in an orderly fashion.

Vincent is determined to work on the boat and be “as big and strong as Daddy” when he grows up. We used this to our advantage at the dinner table this week when Vincent refused to eat a nice dinner (prepared by G, of course).

“I don’t like potatoes,” he announced. “I don’t eat steak. Don’t want broccoli. I want bread.”

“Wow,” I said. “You know that you won’t grow up to be big and strong enough to work on the boat with Bryan and Brett if you don’t eat your healthy food, right?

“Do you think Bryan sits at the galley table and says ‘I don’t like potatoes!’ And I’m pretty sure Brett doesn’t sit next to him and cry over broccoli. If you want to be strong like they are, you’d better have another bite of steak.”

George chimed in with a couple of words about sending people who complain about dinner into the hatch to finish it up, but that only made us laugh. Eventually, Vincent did eat his entire dinner.

Will be back tomorrow with a report on the new iPhone 4S! Can’t wait!