I posted this tiny edit on Instagram stories to celebrate my wife, but since I can’t stop smiling while I watch it, the idea of it disappearing in 24 hours isn’t sitting right with me. Figure It deserves a more permanent home.
Summer was absolutely nuts, entirely too much, and unquestionably, a lot of fun.
A week in NYC with family and friends, celebrating 40th birthdays. A bachelor party in Nashville where we probably did more damage to our bodies in 48 hours than some do in 48 years. Not something to be particularly proud of, but if there’s ever a time for it, we found it. A wedding in Philadelphia where I danced to the point of being genuinely afraid to see what the photographer captured of it. Anticipating something that looks close to a full-body exorcism. Then there was a long weekend in Seattle of chasing kids and taking in views of the Puget Sound. There were dinners, concerts, sports, dog sits, baby showers. You name it. Then of course there’s that pesky career that I keep up with in between it all to maintain a living. Also not pictured here, was an entire week long Icelandic adventure.
By the end, it was all enough to have me wishing to never see anyone, or do anything, ever again. Yet simultaneously, thankful to not only be alive, but to be living.
We went to Iceland, it was awesome, but more on that later.
In sorting through all the footage for a little edit of our adventure, I realized there was no dedicated place on this site for all the other home movies I’ve made across the years. A wrong, righted today.
sixfootgiraffe.com/category/film
When I started making these little movies, the first being Alexis’ 30th birthday almost 10 years ago, I had no idea how much I’d come to cherish them. I watch them often. When I miss my friends, my family. When I’m looking for a laugh. It’s hard not to feel the acceleration of time and wonder how these years seem to keep slipping through my fingers. These little movies though, they remind me that that isn’t such a terrible thing.
Justin Townes Earle says it better than I can. “Maybe only a moment, maybe the time of your life.”
When you look past the flying trucks, Spring saw all the usual suspects. Hikes, bikes, runs, bands, friends, and a few late nights. An unusually quieter season than typical. Less party, more work. A productive place to be, but the pendulum likes to swing.
My Dad came out for a visit a few years back, but it’d been over 5 years since he and Mom both spent time with us in California. Chalk it up to those lost Covid years, and the fact that Alexis and I get out to see them once or twice a year, rain or shine. In any case, it was overdue so only felt right to make it count, and I think we did.
We started out with a train ride north, watching the mountains and the Pacific roll by for miles on end until we reached Santa Barbara. We spent a few days here, and most of it was spent soaking in the town’s beauty, it’s history, and its sun. Frankly, a little too much sun. Trust me when I tell you a hat is a bald man’s best friend in the summer. Everything we ate and drank was a home run. From oceanfront dinning to brewery bites, and everything in-between. By our last day, the spell of the town’s charm had us rummaging through Zillow, wondering if we could all just live here instead.
After Santa Barbara, my parents spent a couple days in Laguna Beach without us, so that Alexis and I could briefly get back to our jobs in the salt mines. They had a nice time in Laguna, and once they got back, we spent the rest of our days together exploring the never ending offerings of Los Angeles. And I really mean never ending.
There was Mom using chopsticks for the first time. Brunch and donuts at The Grove. A trip to the Academy Museum for a closer look at details from some of Mom and Dad’s favorites, like The Wizard of Oz and Casablanca. Tacos at Trejo’s. A tour of Alexis’ work for a glimpse at some post-production magic. Dinner at Rao’s, where the one and only, Jonny Roastbeef, gave us an authentic New York welcome in LA. Alexis introduced my parents to one of her favorite movies, How To Lose A Guy in 10 Days, and we witnessed the miracle of my Dad staying awake through all of it, suggesting he might’ve actually liked it.
We walked the Venice canals to marvel at homes as diverse as the blooming flowers all around us. There was rooftop tapas and margaritas in Century City. A 50th anniversary screening of Jaws downtown, and the wild fact that Dad saw it originally in theaters 50 years back, and hadn’t since been to a movie in half that amount of time. We clinked glasses at the highest open-air bar west of the Mississippi, perched on top of LA’s tallest building. Probably forgetting some things, but in any case, you get the picture. We made it count.
This was the first trip my Mom and Dad have taken together since they’ve both been retired. My parents are as hard working as people come. It’s how I’ve always known them. Never putting themselves first. Always leaning much further in the direction of doing the things they had to do, rather than the things they might’ve wanted to. It brings me so much happiness to see them both retired now, enjoying the shade of trees they’ve planted long ago. It couldn’t be more earned and I couldn’t be more excited for this new and long chapter of life for them. I have a feeling it’s gonna be a great one.
Summer’s right around the corner, which means I’ve just barely got around to sorting through photos from winter. Once upon a time I couldn’t imagine neglecting this place as much as I have. Not sure how much that really says though. Lot that goes on that I couldn’t have imagined.
In any case, time brought some sights along with its endless march through winter. A Santa bar crawl. A very good boy who let us adopt him for a few weeks. Fireworks on The Queen Mary. Apocalyptic skylines from the wildfires. Snowball fights with the kiddos in Tahoe. Possibly setting a Guinness World Record for most rides ridden in a single day at Disney. This was Winter.
Knowitall by Phantom Planet
Hurricanes derailed our Florida vacation plans twice back in November, but we still managed to swing something. Ended up heading to Key West for Halloween with friends, and spent a few days after in South Florida with family.
Key West was for bars, boats, pools, sunsets, seafood, ghost tours, and countless wild chickens. In essence, the parrot head life.
South Florida was for getting time in with the ones I love most, but see the least. Getting to watching my nephew’s personality take shape. Seeing Mom and Dad the happiest I’d ever known them now that they’re grandparents. Attempting to teach my brother how to properly make a drink, but absolutely failing to reach him. Getting to know his partner Olga, and sharing a few late night laughs. Thankful to be able to do these things, faintly stung that I don’t do them enough.
Changes in Latitudes, Changes in Attitudes by Jimmy Buffett
Odd fact, I know more words to Jimmy Buffett’s songs than I can even believe. Obscure songs even. Before my family lived in Florida, we’d vacation there, nearly every single year. This meant Dad driving the approximate 1,300 miles from Illinoise to Estero Island, listening to Jimmy Buffet cassettes, non-stop. One man’s hell is another’s paradise I suppose. Gotta say though, it puts a smile on my face imagining my Dad’s state of mind brightening one mile at a time, as the Illinoise winter receded further and further into his rearview mirror, and wearing out those songs about boats, beaches, and bars.
Bearing witness as my youngest friend exits her 20s. Losing our minds experiencing The Sphere in Vegas with two brothers who adopted me. Pumpkin patches with the kiddos. Reviving our Annual Haunted Tiki Party from the dead. Baking turkeys upside down and welcoming Theo to the clan on Thanksgiving. FaceTime’s featuring colossal age differences, and occasional language barriers. Hearing one of my favorite albums played live from start to finish. Seeing myself credited next to one of my oldest friends. This was some of fall.
I Wish I Felt Nothing by the Wallflowers
Showering the old friends but new parents. Weekend getaways in Palm Springs. Mick Jagger inspiring me to work on my cardio. The men being boys in Denver. Vampire Weekend at Red Rocks. Time with the kiddos by day in Seattle, and head banging to Metallica by night. Hot chicken and endless drinks in name of love in Nashville. Dancing with Future Islands downtown. This was summer.
King of Sweden by Future Islands.
Jacarandas painting our street purple. A first Easter with my Nephew. Yachting on the Intracoastal. Catching the solar eclipse fever. Hikes and bike rides. Cocktails in San Diego. Music in Pasadena. Collecting miles at Disney and Universal. Poolside birthday donuts. This was Spring.
World Sick by The Broken Social Scene.
Finally got meet my nephew Preston in person, just as he passed his 5 month mark. Of course the first thing I did was look him straight in the eye and deliver this classic line from Uncle Buck. I can say with confidence that pictures and videos of his little arm and thigh rolls are no supplement to actually squeezing said little arm and thigh rolls. He’s a curious, handsome, and charming little man who took no time to steal our hearts. Looking forward to seeing this little guy again in a few months time for his first birthday and getting a good look at the Gulf of Mexico together.
Pumkin cannons. Dace floor destruction with Maya and Arthur. Kiss at The Bowl. FaceTimes with the newest Smith. Izakayas with out of towners. Watching a dog we considered not giving back. Showing LA to New York. Disney days. Donuts with Della. Introductory handshakes with Emmett. Green beers in Long Beach. This was fall and winter, or at least the parts I remembered to take a picture of. Really need to get better at that.
Halah by Mazzy Star.
One of my best buds Drew E. Cohen, turned 40 in October and over twenty of us from all corners of the country descended upon Indio, California to help the man celebrate.
We swam, dined, karaoked, Halloweened, baby showered, competed in Beer Olympics, and raised our glasses to a guy who’s been asked to be a best man more times than anyone I’ve ever met.
Everyone came together and contributed in their own way to make it not just a memorable weekend the man of the hour, but for us all. Truly, one for the books.
I was glad to have contributed some of my finest artist works to date for the celebration, in the form of a book cover, a cake design of biblical proportions, and Beer Olympics team bandanas. A true career high for me.
Lastly, Kelsie wrangled everyone to contribute a fun memory or well wish for a book she put together for him. Figure I’d share my contribution here, becasue I meant every word, and the truth is worth preserving:
Forty… My god, I’m so, so sorry bud. We go back a long ways now, since 2009 I think. That said, it shouldn’t be too hard for me to pick one of our memories to share here, certainly a lot to choose from. But If I’m being honest, with so many favorites, it’s not easy picking just one.
Should it be the first memory I have of you? The time you became if only for a moment, my one true lord and savior, when you literally freed me from a locked parking garage I’d been trapped in for hours on end in the dead of night. You always knew how to make a first impression.
How about the countless shows we’ve been to, where on more than a few occasions people had to tell us to shut the hell up, because no matter how desperately we wanted to see a band, it seemed to sometimes pale in comparison to how much more fun it was to just shoot the breeze and catch up. And on the topic of shows, I have to mention the time that like a modern day Moses you parted a sea of moshing kids at the Troubadour to pick up my fallen glasses for me.
Maybe it’s traveling our country together, 18 states by my count. In nearly all instances, promising ourselves we’d turn in at the hotel at a decent hour for some rest so we wouldn’t spoil our trip, but sure as the Sun shines, we’d always break that promise. Whether the lethal blow was staying out till some ungodly hour, or was actually making it back to the room as intended, but fatally talking hours on end like two kids on a weekend sleepover. Sometimes a combination of both.
We’ve done our fair share of globe trotting outside our borders too. The first time I ever used my passport was of course, with you in Peru. Something I consider to be one of the greatest experiences of my life, and in hindsight, an adventure we were either too young or too hungover to realize just how dangerous it was at times. Then there was “No Rules” in Spain. Watching snow fall while we floated in warm waters in Japan. Cramming into a flat bed truck in Thailand so the locals could pelt us with water balloons for the New Year. Chasing whale sharks and mantas in the Maldives, and exploring a tiny deserted island in the middle of the Indian Ocean. Aimlessly wandering the streets of Hong Kong, and after several hours of day drinking, declaring through an inebriated lens of optimism that we both “could totally see living here.”
Maybe it’s one of the smaller or more ridiculous memories. Watching you simultaneously hail three taxis out of thin air, when the rest of us couldn’t catch one for hours. The copy of Atlas Shrugged that mysteriously arrived on my doorstep. Crushing homemade beer towers in your front lawn like degenerates. You bringing a couch to my “Bring Your Own Chair” party in my empty apartment, and months later, you single handedly carrying that couch out of my apartment after I told you I couldn’t move it by myself. Thinking a shortcut on foot through Skid Row in broad daylight wouldn’t be that scary. Me having the best view in all of Coachella, sitting on your shoulders over 10 feet off the ground. Slayer almost ending my life. Our countless “Piano Man” karaoke duets (If Hell is real, it’s us rewatching those performances for eternity). And of course I can’t forget you helping orchestrate what seemed like all of Dodger Stadium to chant “Let’s go Kyle LET’S GO!”
Maybe my favorite memory of ours is one of the more predictable standouts. Standing up with you on your wedding day and having you stand up with me at mine. Or maybe it’s meeting Della and holding her for the first time.
I think you see the conundrum now. Can’t pick just one. There’s too many memories. I will say after all these years though, what I’m most thankful to you for, is just how far you’re willing to lean in, especially when my nature is to lean out and go it alone. You could’ve stopped inviting me out well before trying for the second, third, fourth, or fifth time that I dodged you. But unlike July 11th at Buca Di Beppo, you didn’t quit, and I’m a lot better off for it.
Yes you’re getting older, but just remember, we may be dying, but we’re not dead yet. Happy 40 my friend.
Family in Florida. Friends in LA. Lazy rivers in Palm Springs. A train ride along the Pacific. A hurricane warning in Los Angeles. Endless bands in Chicago. This was summer.
Wooly Mammoth by Local Natives
8 Planes. Countless bands. Easter in Palm Springs. Racing in Long Beach. Playgrounds in Seattle. Sunburn in Minneapolis. Toasts in West Hollywood. Nostalgia in Pasadena. A flipped kayak in Nashville. Near internet infamy in Boston. Too many drinks in Bel Air. Watching the kids get taller and friends go grayer. This was Spring and I’m tired.
We’ve Been Had by The Walkmen
Rain and Snow. Hikes and Sunsets. Friends and brothers. Sons and Dads. The Bulls in Chicago and The Boss in St. Paul. Stiff drinks and long division. This was Winter.
“Born to Run” by Bruce Springsteen
Few months back, Alexis and I vacationed a week in Florida to spend some time with family. We originally meant to be in Ft. Myers, but Hurricane Ian had other plans. From what I understand, nearly the entire first floor of the condo our family has visited for decades, was under water, and a lot of Estero Island was erased. We came pretty close to canceling Florida all together, but we made some adjustments and saw it through, and I’m glad we did.
We started in St. Pete, specifically to take a boat ride out to visit Egmont Key, home to one of the oldest lighthouses on the Florida Gulf Coast. This is where Alexis and her siblings scattered their mother’s ashes earlier in the year. Although her mom spent her last years in Ohio, she missed Florida terribly. On top of that, she had such an affection for lighthouses, that you had to see her ceramic collection to believe it. Can’t think of a better place for her to rest. We spent the afternoon reflecting and exploring the key for a few hours before our boat had to take us back. A cover of Springsteen’s Atlantic City played no less than four times on our 40 minute ride across the water. It became a bit of an anthem for the trip, as well as a running joke to this day. Before leaving St. Pete, we discovered a strange species of seagull that had a striking resemblance to Danny DeVito, which we appropriately gave the scientific name of Danny DeSeagull.
For the rest of our trip, instead of Estero Island, we stayed at a beach house we rented on Anna Maria Island. We planned on having a good amount of friends and family come visit. Nine adults and four kids. There were a lot of us, but we made it a priority to get a place big enough to keep us all comfortably under the same roof. It turned out great. The kids declared they wanted to live there forever, so we must’ve done something right.
We walked the pier, drank pool side, marveled at lightning storms, caught sunsets, fired up the grill, built castles, dug holes, chased the kids, were chased by the kids, and astonishingly avoided getting sunburned. Not pictured is the half mile long trench I dug on the beach by pulling the kids in a wagon with wheels that absolutely refused to turn in sand. I’ll be damned if I let those kids think I’m not invincible though.
With as much fun was we had, it’s hard to believe we were ever considering canceling the trip. There’s a lesson to be learned somewhere in there. We know we’re supposed to spend time with our family, but sometimes you forget just how much fun it can be. Thankful we could make it happen, and thankful for the memory of us all sleeping under the same roof, together as family.
Alexis turns Thiry-Five and makes everyone wear ugly sweaters.
Marco and Kelly tied the knot. We laughed, we drank, we photo-boothed, and we most certainly danced. It was a fun night and we were thankful to have been included. Although the majority of my extended family lives in Illinoise, I don’t get out that way too often. It was a great chance to make some fun memories with plenty of aunts, uncles, and cousins that I hardly see. From dropping in on my Uncle Vince and Aunt Enza’s restaurant for a quick cannoli, to gathering in full force at my Aunt Marie’s house for Italian beef sandwiches, where Uncle Santo uncorked a few bottles of his homemade wine.
I’m kicking myself for not getting any photos from the day we spent at my Aunt Susie and Uncle Perry’s house with the Smith branch of the family. I blame the lapse of judgement on those martinis Aunt Susie whipped up for us.
All around, a quick but potent long weekend. Congrats Marco and Kelly, and thanks for having us.
Celebrating five years of marriage. We had fun at dinner, comfortable in our typical way of joking and being weirdos together. Exactly how we like it. But a drink or two after this photo, we got to talking about how challenging our marriage has been. Now this isn’t news to either of us, not at all, but I wanted to write and preserve that truth here, and keep it as a reminder to myself that photographs aren’t undisputed evidence of everything being all sunshine and rainbows, all the time. My photos, or anyone else’s. It’s an easy thing to forget. Things inevitably get hard, and our response as partners to those hard times decide whether we sink, or whether we swim.
The good times, with the good people. A lot of bands on the roster for “This Ain’t No Picnic” in Pasadena, plenty of which my “age to coolness ratio” didn’t qualify me to have even heard of before. Even still, we caught plenty of music. LCD Soundsystem, Idles, Beach House, The Strokes, and I finally got to see Pheobe Bridgers for the first time. She’s been on heavy rotation through my speakers the past few years.
“Someday” by The Strokes
I’ve loved this song since I first heard it, over twenty years ago. Long back enough that younger generations are starting to cover it, and I’m falling in love with it all over again.
“Someday” by Julia Jacklin
Our longtime friend Christina de Guzman, who we affectionately call “Goose” is moving to Portland. A big group of us saw her out in style by getting together to surprise her at a boozy brunch. Afterwards, we hopped on a party bus and shot over to some of our old haunts and neighborhoods. A final Tour-de-LA. From West Hollywood, to Venice, to Downtown to Mid City. We were a big group, but these 5 brave souls you see here were the last standing by nights end, and arguably the ones history, or at the very least the ones the photo-booth, remembers.
It is an odd thing becoming slowly but surely estranged to a city I’ve lived so long in, one lost familiar face at time. Ultimately though, there’s few things more inspiring than watching a friend leap into the unknown in order to better their life. We’ll miss you Goose, upwards and onwards!
We always have a fun time on our annual Boggs Family Adventure, and this year was no exception. From poolside and the mountain tram in Palm Springs, to discovering the hidden inner workings at Disneyland. Steph’s brother works at Disney and was able to walk us to the front of the line for a bunch of rides. That’s about as good a deal as it gets, but even still I’d have to say the highlight was Indiana Jones breaking down while we were on it, and having to get out of our cart and walk through the ride on foot. Most of that walk was in darkness, with all ambient sounds and music shutoff, but with the animatronic Indiana Jones’ still moving. With no other sounds, the grinding of Indie’s internal gears was all you could hear. Really the stuff of nightmares, but I wouldn’t trade it for the normally functioning ride any day.
Fall was a welcomed change of pace after a summer of relentless travel. We only took off from LAX once all Fall, which has to be some sort of record low for us.
There was a week in Florida. Our first stop being Estero Island, where my family has made memories at since I was six months old. Our first time back after a string of hurricanes devastated the island a couple years ago. Still hasn’t fully bounced back, but I was grateful to get time in with the ones I love disproportionately more than I see. Seeing how fast my nephew Preston is growing is a blaring alarm for me to remember take pictures with him, and hell did I really strike out there on this go around.
After Estero, we drove a few hours north to visit where Alexis scattered her Mom’s ashes, and then we had few more nights at St. Pete Beach. Our main activity there was speculating if we’d get a good sunset or not. Alexis says she feels a lot of peace when she’s there. Can’t say I disagree.
Beyond all that, there were some bike rides. A four day stretch of jury duty that included self-guided architectural and food tours of downtown Los Angeles during our hour and half lunch breaks. A rare show where I not only knew every word of the headliner’s songs, but also of the opener’s. Then of course there’s Mike’s 40th. We celebrated with an immersive theater experience through… Hell? Not sure I’m nailing this description but it was very weird, very cool, and very Mike.
We capped things off with a visit from Alexis’ sister and her kids for Thanksgiving week. They’d never spent time in Los Angeles, so Alexis went all out showing them around. Everyone had fun, and I like to imagine the kids got a small taste of the world outside the confines of their hometown. Even if it takes some time for the seed of what that means to germinate. The honest highlight of their visit for me though, was exposing Micah to the greatest video game ever made, Shadow of the Colossus. It holds such a place in my heart that introducing it to the uninitiated feels as monumental as prometheus gifting fire to man. They liked it.
For the most part, it was a tame Fall, and that sat fine with me.
On Your Porch by the Format