Noah Cardiel Holt | My life according to other people

Things at Noah’s new day care need to be labeled, so we bought a label maker and I spent some time with it.

Mr. Potato Head has teeth for hair.

This post right here, this very post, is the 500th post on Noah’s blog. That’s a lot of flicks (about 4000), a lot of info, a lot of bad (usually inside) jokes, and a lot of bad grammar on my part (thanks for resisting the urge to correct me).  All this fueled on by the people that repeatedly visit and comment on the blog.

Since I started keeping stats in April 2009, the site has had 12,997 visits and 1,365 “unique visitors”.  People coming from everywhere around the world.  Even if the 4 people that visited from India, or that 1 visitor from Brunei, landed here on accident, it’s still cool to count them.

Thanks for visiting, it’s meant a lot to us.  Now less writing and more pictures.  Here is a recap or our Labor Day.

Labor Day in our neighborhood can be craze.  There is this little thing called The West Indian Day Parade (you might want to turn your speakers down)…

The NYPD doesn’t mess around, they bring out all their post 9-11 gear for the festivities. Pretty intimidating.

Even though I should really be into The West Indian Day Parade, I’m not really into crowds so for the second year in a row we walked by/through the parade to have a picnic in the park.  As we walked to listen to the insanity at a safe, manageable distance, we ran into Richard, Susan, Wiley, and Ryder.

Noah and Ryder then had a competition for who could get the dirtiest.  Fun.

Even though something was bugging Noah, maybe his two year molars, he was in a better mood than it looks.

There were plenty of helicopters in the sky for Noah to be psyched on.

(photo by Kate)

Our blue drink.

My flat-packed cups get used again.

The ants liked the blue drink too.

Mellow.

Noah talks to his mom about his on-again, off-again drama with those second year molars while we wait for some take-out.

See, pain is “off-again” once we get to the park.

I’m psyched to use my flat-pack cups, bowls and plates.

And I’m psyched on tacos.

(photo by Kate)

Heading home.

This is some “art” in the lobby of a fancy apartment building.  If it were up to me, I wouldn’t want statues of bound dudes in my lobby.  Just saying…

Mark, Sara, and Eli were in town over Labor Day weekend for a wedding.  While Sara was handling her duties as a brides maid, we talked Mark and Eli into chilling at a park with us.

I think Eli was running a hot dog or ice cream stand under the slide..  I don’t remember.

Push-ups.

After showing up his father at push-ups, Eli beat him up with a soccer ball.

Mark and Eli went for lunch, we went on to run some errands (not pictured).