2022 – Lost in Translation
Greetings from the other side of the world. If we were to dig a hole in our backyard in San Francisco and continue until we saw daylight we'd end up a few hundred miles from where I'm typing this letter in Africa. 18 years ago Jennifer and I left our jobs to spend a year overseas. Despite friends’ predictions that we’d get divorced, the experience was so memorable that we vowed to one day do something similar with our kids. Two decades passed in the blink of an eye and we found ourselves with three kids on the verge of realizing their parents aren't actually cool. So we rented out our house, established a homeschool, packed our backpacks, and set off on a twelve-month, twenty-country misadventure. What could possibly go wrong?
Boot camp
After two years of Covid lockdown, we knew we'd need a travel boot camp to prepare us to traverse the developing world. So we enlisted the help of two families to join us on our first stop at a camp on the Swedish archipelago. One family arrived fully infected with Covid. The other family projectile vomited from the flu. Together, we shared two outhouses for 15 people. After surviving the hostel, covid, flu, and Swedish food we were officially battle tested and ready for anything. Anything except Norwegian appliances.
The cost of bacon
Norwegian appliances are gorgeous to look at and infuriating to use. We discovered this when smoke started pouring from the bacon on the stove. We couldn't figure out which minimalist, sleek, black, unlabeled surface to massage in order to turn on the vent or turn off the stove. That's when the smoke alarm erupted, piercing the pre-dawn silence. We fanned the alarm - no luck. Then came the wail of sirens. Three Norwegian firefighters wearing masks, oxygen tanks, and headlamps emerged in our Airbnb as the lights from their trucks strobed the walls. They inspected the kitchen and cleared each room in the house before stopping to address us in broken English: "Enjoy the bacon." 30-minutes later a policeman came to the door to investigate Bacongate. He interrogated us about our visit and the bacon. I joked that tourists burning bacon must be the most scandalous thing that happens in Bergen. He didn't see the humor in the situation and sent me a bill for $402.
Fashion faux pas
We spent a month in France so Ainsley could study French and we could eat croissants and macaroons. I started running after learning a single croissant has 27 layers of butter. One day, I’m running in the park during the afternoon heat when two policemen carrying automatic weapons stop me. They say something in French (which I don’t understand) and judging by their demeanor they weren’t asking how I was enjoying Paris. They pointed to the sweat-soaked shirt in my hand and motioned for me to put it on. It turns out that running without a shirt in France is a serious faux pas. The irony. The same country that has statues of naked women on every street corner and mandates speedos in public pools (no baggy shorts allowed) can't tolerate the sight of a shirtless man jogging in the park. The police officers wouldn't let me go until I put my shirt back on. I don't know which security service these guys were from but my new "two truths and a lie" is that I was once stopped at gunpoint by the French fashion police.
Lost in translation
Jennifer's 74-year-old dad joined us in Tanzania. One of his life dreams was to go on safari, so spending time with his grandkids in Africa was a great way to kill two wildebeests with one stone. He had us in stitches with his lost in translation moments. Like saying "hola" and "gracias" to all the locals who speak perfect English and Swahili but no Spanish; asking a taxi driver what color Santa wears in an exclusively Muslim city; and inquiring if the Stone Town slave market is still active. We had a blast adventuring with Poppi. If I'm chasing grandkids, lions, and elephants on the other side of the world at his age I will consider myself a lucky man.
Instagram ruins the real word
Since Silicon Valley decided the future of humanity will take place in the metaverse, the physical world has been relegated to the backdrop for Instagram selfies. You've probably seen your feed filled with travel pictures of people pinching the top of an Egyptian pyramid, straightening the leaning tower of Pisa, or swinging blissfully above Indonesian rice patties while wearing an evening gown. You may not have seen the real-world cluster behind the scenes. Every major attraction has a queue of dozens (sometimes hundreds) of people waiting in line for the perfect "candid" shot. Venues place "stand here" stickers to frame the perfect selfie and tour agencies sell packages with professional photographers and makeup artists to help you go viral. Finding the most outrageous influencers is our favorite pastime. Like the person standing with arms stretched wide in the middle of four lanes of fast-moving traffic in front of the Eiffel Tower. YOLO – until you're run over by a bus. I wanted to publish the best influencer selfies on our Christmas card but Jennifer vetoed the idea. What says Happy New Year better than a picture of a scantily clad woman snapping her selfie while draped over a sculpture at the Louvre? Meeting people from different countries, cultures, and religions reminds me that humanity still has one thing in common: we all do dumb things for Instagram likes.
Fortunately, there are still places worth experiencing in person such as: the pink sand beaches of Crete, mountains of Grindelwald, temples in Luxor, fjords in Norway, the Dead Sea in Israel, Petra in Jordan, and robot ice cream in Stockholm.
The most... (since many of you asked)
Stunning - Norwegian fjords
Moving - Luxor, Egypt
Picturesque - Grindelwald, Switzerland
Memorable - Africa
Friendliest - Indonesia
Delicious - Greece
Cleanest - Singapore
Shocking - traveling from a Maasai village to Dubai within 24 hours
Complicated - Israel/Palestine (and I thought Jared Kushner was supposed to solve the issue)
Out of this world - Jordan
Scariest - running at night in Cairo
Likely to be a screensaver - Zanzibar
Expensive cab ride - $70 for a 1-mile ride in Switzerland
Economical cab ride - $1.50 for a 1-hour ride across Cairo
Saddest moment - missing all of you, particularly this time of year.
99% of our travel includes telling the kids to get off their screens, repeating "no, we can't get a cat right now", avoiding scams, and trying to diagnose which food caused which intestinal issue. The other 1% includes seeing our kids light up as they explore their passions - like Ainsley meeting her French soccer heroes, Cecily exploring Egyptian tombs, and Dawson driving a land cruiser in Africa. It is during these moments that we think maybe, just maybe, this might be worth it.
We wish you joy, laughter, and a few misadventures in 2023. Come visit us in South America!
Grace and peace,
Dave, Jennifer, Ainsley (11), Cecily (8), and Dawson (5) King
2021 – National Lampoon’s California Vacation
Greetings family and friends:
I would have had this letter to you sooner had I not been busy trying to fulfill my kids' Christmas wishes which included a real live unicorn, a trip to France, a pug, and a baguette. In the end I reminded them that after a pandemic year filled with virtual school and thousands of miles of family road tripping they should be grateful to get one of their four requests - so eat up.
Jennifer left her role leading sales for Lyft Business and is trying to trademark the catchphrase "that's dumber than selling corporate travel during a pandemic." Her funemployment along with San Francisco schools' aversion to classrooms gave us the opportunity to be true digital nomads - like a modern day Jack Kerouc or John Muir with internet and Airbnb. Our itinerary may have read like Rick Steves' guide to the West (Sun Valley, Lake Tahoe, Joshua Tree, Arnold, and San Diego) but the reality was better suited as a screenplay for National Lampoon's California Vacation.
We had barely driven through Pleasanton when I had my first "am I Clark Griswold?" moment, reflecting on Chevy Chase's character in Vacation. A woman pulled up alongside me and honked. Only it wasn't Christie Brinkley in a Ferrari, it was a woman sneering at my oversized load and inability to keep pace with traffic. I accessorized our compact SUV with a roof cargo box, roof bike rack, and aftermarket trailer hitch platform to carry two long-tail cargo bikes which are several feet wider than the car. I never checked but I think we were technically required to file a wide load permit and have an escort car. Jennifer pointed out the obvious "do you think we should get a bigger car?" I went on to explain the effects of the semiconductor shortage and supply chain bottleneck on the auto industry and she replied "got it, so you're just cheap."
Five Guys, no burgers
The ability to place a mobile food order from any restaurant is probably the best thing to come out of this pandemic. I'd rather skip a meal than wait in line to order and pick up food while three kids tug on my shirt. So when the kids wanted burgers while driving across the Mojave desert I was quick on the draw. I pulled out my smartphone, found the closest burger chain, tapped out an order, paid with my thumbprint, and let Google Maps guide me to lunch. I blew imaginary smoke from the barrel of my phone and said "stand back kids, your dad can shoot an online order faster than a gunslinger at the O.K. Corral." I had just holstered by phone when I realized the GPS was leading me into a military installation in the middle of the desert. Two men with chiseled jawlines and M27 assault rifles stopped me at the checkpoint:
"Do you have authorization?" they asked.
"Yes, I'm picking up burgers from Five Guys" I replied while kids yelled in the backseat
"No you're not, this is a military base."
I was tempted to quip back by whispering "I'm actually CIA, I'm just undercover" but I bit my tongue after sizing them up as having 20-inch biceps and zero sense of humor.
Vegas baby, Vegas
After so much family time Jennifer and I each needed some alone time to renourish our souls - so we went to Vegas. Jennifer met her college roommates for a week of glamping in Zion. I met my fraternity brothers for a Duke basketball game and a 24-hour bender. We lit it up. We stayed in the Residence Inn, booked the earliest reservation offered at a steakhouse, tried (unsuccessfully) to get into the only club we found desirable (Top Golf to hit range balls), and cheered for basketball players who were all born after we graduated. Vegas baby, Vegas.
We're living in the metaverse
Fortunately in the future we'll be able to avoid Griswold-style road trips by instantly teleporting our avatars to any location in the metaverse. The metaverse is a virtual world where you can meet, work, and play online. If the Metaverse is the future - then spending 10-hours per day on Zoom for the last 18 months has made me a prophet and I say the virtual future kinda sucks. On that point my kids are quick to call "OK, Boomer." They ask to leave in-person playdates early so they can go home to play with the same kids on Roblox. I asked the kids if they would rather have a new pair of Nikes for their feet or for their Roblox avatar and they didn't even flinch: "Roblox, duh."
So many gold stars
Jennifer says our readers want to know about the kids' accolades (you and I both know that's not true). So I'll placate her by sharing a few of their achievements. Dawson returned to pre-school where the staff informed us he's the loudest student they have ever had (definitely wasn’t intended as a compliment). Cecily won the sportsmanship award in soccer. We're proud - and shocked. Her favorite sports hero is Draymond Green because "he talks trash to the refs" and she has been known to shout "kick him in the penis" while watching sports. Ainsley hustled her grandfather by convincing him to pay her $5 per mile she ran during the pandemic and then sent him the bill for an iPad. Gold stars all the way around.
We wish you love and joy and can't wait to see you on the road, in the metaverse, or in real life.
Grace and peace,
Dave, Jennifer, Ainsley (10), Cecily (7), and Dawson (4) King
2020 – Hardly Believable Headlines
I had been on back-to-back Zoom calls all day when I paused to look at the news. I checked headlines – and then my eyesight. First headline: "NBA Suspends Season Due to Coronavirus." That can't be. I took the kids to a Warriors game the previous week. Next headline: "Tom Hanks has Coronavirus." Uh, oh. If the guy who overcame World War II, the Vietnam War, multiple plane crashes, and Somali pirates is susceptible to the virus then what does that mean for the rest of us? 2020 was the year of unfathomable headlines. So, it seemed appropriate to share our hardly believable, but entirely true, family headlines for the King Christmas Card 2020.
Elementary School Gets 'Cancelled'
Ainsley and Cecily's elementary school got cancelled. No, I'm not referring to the school cancelling classes due to Covid (although that is also true). I'm referring to the fact that the school's name, Alvarado, became the latest victim of cancel culture. The school bears the same name as a Spanish conquistador who lived in the 1500s. Apparently this 16th century conqueror wasn't an active listener during circle time and didn’t use the school’s “peace path” in his encounters with native peoples. So while schools remain closed and students and teachers struggle with remote learning, our public officials are hard at work sourcing a more politically correct name. Thankfully they turned to the experts for ideas. Ainsley suggested "Hogwarts" and Cecily contributed “Unicorn School.” I said while we’re at it why not be more ambitious and name the school "Harvard" so people will think the students are child prodigies.
The Death of Cities
We were warned about the urban apocalypse by Facebook truth-tellers. Anarchy, socialism, Antifa – they are all coming for us. First, these menaces shut down public streets and converted them into Covid-safe pedestrian walkways. Then cafe owners added European-style outdoor dining and musicians organized pop-up concerts on the street corners. Masked insurgents roam the streets pushing strollers, scooters, and bicycles. The local microbrewery started providing prohibition style craft beer to-go so now you can sip a Cloudy IPA from a mason jar while you walk through the valley of the shadow of death. On a more serious note, the pain and suffering in the city is real and heartbreaking. But the community's generosity, creativity, and collective will shines bright. Mark Twain once said "rumors of my death are greatly exaggerated." I suspect the same may be true about cities.
Wildfires Force Kids to Abandon Tent
Our kids have been sleeping in a tent on the roof since March. Prior to the pandemic, I let them camp out in the tent on weekends. When their school closed, they made the case that there were no more school days so they should be able to sleep in the tent every night. At the time, I was looking for any way to lower the decibel level in the house so I happily obliged. They slept outside in a tent for so long that I thought about listing their room on Airbnb. Jennifer finally forced them inside when the air quality reached toxic levels as a result of the nearby wildfires. She almost forced me to sleep in the tent when I suggested we just buy the kids a fan and keep them out of the house.
Parent Throws Tantrum When Asked About Covid Hobby
Never ask a parent with young kids about their Covid hobbies. They aren't raising sourdough starter, taking up vegan cooking, or participating in virtual cocktail-making classes. For some reason, that question is the icebreaker of choice on Zoom meetings. I overheard Jennifer's answer on a recent call. It went something like this: "My Covid hobbies includes locking myself in the laundry room for 12 consecutive hours of Zoom calls and taking intermittent breaks to scream at my kids. I also started a new workout plan where I plan to work out but don't actually do it because I'm way too tired and collapse at the end of the day with a half-drunk glass of wine. The highlight of my week is Tuesday when the recycling truck comes because it is the only way to mark the passage of time and it provides 5 minutes of screen-free entertainment for the kids. What's your Covid hobby?"
3-Year-Old Breaks Peloton Record
A few years ago we bought an electric cargo bike to cart the kids around the city. The bike's electric motor makes it an efficient mode of transportation but also reduces the cardiovascular benefits of bike riding. So we bought a stationary Peloton bike to reverse the negative health effects of the e-bike. Yes, the irony of pedaling a stationary bike so that I can avoid pedaling a regular bike is not lost on me. Recently Jennifer hit her 100-ride milestone which surprised me given her aforementioned Covid hobbies. It turns out that Dawson, our 3-year-old, has been regularly sneaking downstairs, climbing on the bike, and tuning into Peloton rides on Jennifer's account. Jennifer didn't know whether to reprimand him for unauthorized screen time or reward him for padding her stats.
Full House Sitcom Returns to San Francisco
Do you remember Full House – the G-rated 90s sitcom featuring a mildly dysfunctional San Francisco family? My favorite episode was the one where the dad (who bears an unfortunate resemblance to Bob Saget) officiates a wedding ceremony for the family's au pair inside their house. A global pandemic hits immediately after the ceremony, forcing the newly married couple to move in and quarantine with the family. Chaos ensues as everyone learns how to live in cramped quarters 24/7. But in the end, it turns out to be a blessing because the new bride teaches virtual school for the kids and the groom teaches the family how to make homemade sushi. Just as the family achieves harmony the newlyweds move out of the house and into a Dodge ProMaster. The season finale ends with the arrival of a new Au Pair, Nicole, which suggests the sitcom may return for another season.
40 is the New 90
Jennifer and I turned 40 this year. Some people say 40 is the new 30. I think 40 is the new 90. Now that we are 40 we never leave the house. We stockpile toilet paper and canned goods and curse the fact we didn't buy a single-story ranch. We've forgotten basic social norms and stay at least six feet away from strangers. We’ve thrown our fashion sense to the wind and wear whatever is most comfortable for sitting in the house all day. During dinner we discuss new physical ailments we've contracted from our sedentary lifestyle. And our idea of a rocking party is when the kids join us for Friday night Bingo.
Parents Discover Covid Cure
After months of research Jennifer and I finally found a Covid cure. I'm not referring to the Pfizer and Moderna vaccines (although we're happy about those as well). I'm talking about an elixir that provides 60 minutes of uninterrupted pandemic relief: Roblox and Hamilton. Each night at 6 pm we let the kids log onto the Roblox gaming platform to simulate a social life they can’t currently experience. We also turn on the Hamilton soundtrack so they can learn our country’s history and colorful language. Some of you may criticize our endorsement of artificial reality and explicit lyrics. But you're probably the same people who ask us about our Covid hobbies so back off!
Friends Reunite With Hugs in 2021
This is more of a prediction than a headline. We are so thankful for your friendship and can't wait to see you in the New Year. We wish you and your family health, humor, and hope this holiday season.
Grace and peace,
Dave, Jennifer, Ainsley, Cecily, and Dawson King
2019 – Going Multimodal
After 13 years at Google Jennifer changed companies and joined Lyft. Lyft is Uber’s younger, smarter, and more law-abiding little sister. Jennifer is so committed to curing the world’s transportation woes that she forced our family to go multimodal. That’s hipster speak for reducing our carbon footprint through the use of various urban transportation services. Here’s how we got around in 2019:
E-bike: Each morning I ride the girls to school on an electric cargo bike. On Fridays we roll with music – either Disney musicals or 90s hip hop. I used to know this was geeky but did it anyways. Now I’m convinced it’s actually cool which means I have officially entered middle-age #DadLife. Jennifer started e-biking to work as well. I had hoped that biking would temper her Southern road rage but it didn’t. One day she was rounding a traffic circle when a car cut her off forcing her onto the sidewalk. Jennifer yelled at the driver who turned on his police lights and revealed himself as an undercover officer. The cop’s status didn’t inhibit Jennifer one bit. She told him to learn how to drive and then purred away on her teal green bike with kid seats and a bell. Even the cops know to not mess with a Southern girl.
Squad Car: Jennifer wasn’t the only family member to have a run-in with the cops in 2019. We lost track of Cecily during our neighborhood “superhero” day where policemen and firefighters show up to greet the kids. Suddenly one of the police loudspeakers crackled to life with Cecily broadcasting poop jokes for all to enjoy. I weaved through crowds of parents mouthing “who’s kid is that?” and searched multiple squad cars until I found Cecily in the front seat hosting open mic. Jennifer says I should be thankful I’m still pulling her out of the front of a squad car rather than the back of one.
Muni: Dawson’s first word was “Muni.” He loses his stuff whenever he sees a municipal bus or light rail car. He jumps up and down, yells, and waves at the drivers. Muni drivers receive more fanfare in Noe Valley than Steph Curry does in the Chase Center. The best part about the Muni is that there is plenty of room for Pacey, Joey, and the rest of the cast from Dawson’s Creek.
Self-driving cars: 24th street is the main commercial street in our neighborhood. It’s also a popular street for startups to test their autonomous vehicles. Cars covered with sensors cruise up and down the street - no big deal. Until the city installed parklets. Parklets are old parking stalls that have been converted into a pedestrian area with tables and chairs – typically in front of cafes serving drip coffee for $10 per cup. The autonomous cars couldn’t make sense of the parklets and would freeze in the middle of the road. This drew ire from drivers in manned vehicles idling behind the confused autonomous vehicles. Watching humans yell and honk at robots is very entertaining and well worth the $10 price of admission.
Dodge Ram ProMaster: Our Au Pair, Sol, is leaving us to live in a van down by the river bay. She is engaged to a grad student who lives in a custom-designed luxury van. Jennifer’s dad and my parents are professional RVers and they agree the van is pretty sweet. Sol and her fiancé aren’t the only ones living the van life in SF. Many of their grad school classmates have also opted to live in luxury vans rather than shell out $3,500 per month for a tiny studio with fewer amenities. Ainsley asked me why we don’t live in a van. I didn’t have a good answer. If you get a change of address from me in 2020 you’ll know I came to my senses.
Amtrack: During the Northern California wildfires, San Francisco’s air quality was so bad that we had to evacuate the city. As we packed our go bags we realized that we don’t have a vehicle that can transport six people and a dog. Enter Amtrack. Amtrack is now our go-to service to flee the city for the Sierras. Jennifer, Sol, and I play rock-paper-scissors to see who has to ride in the car with three screaming kids and who gets to ride the train in silent bliss.
Peloton: People who say a stationary bike isn’t a form of transportation don’t have kids. Jennifer and I use the Peloton not for exercise but for a 45-60 minute reprieve from our children. People erupted on social media over Peloton’s sexist holiday commercial in which a dad gifts his wife a Peloton and she thanks him by making a video blog of her stationary rides. I, too, was really upset with the ad. Not because it is sexist but because it spoiled the video selfie I had planned to give Jennifer for Christmas.
Volvo Wagon: When I was a kid, my family and I piled into a 1982 Volvo DL station wagon for road trips. One year we were driving in the family wagon while my sister, who had just eaten a bag of circus peanuts (those orange foam-like candies sold in gas stations), puked on my brother. I took one look at her and empathy puked – also on my brother. I inherited that puke-stained Volvo wagon when I turned 16 and was so ashamed of it that I vowed to never again drive a Volvo. Somehow, inexplicably, I now drive a Volvo. Adding insult to injury, Ainsley threw up in the back seat and then told me the car’s combustion engine is ruining the environment. Cecily complained that the car stinks and asked for a Ruth Bader Ginsberg car freshener for Christmas. So now I roll in a Volvo with an 86-year-old Supreme Court Justice. My high school self is laughing in its Timberland boots.
Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays. Here’s to enjoying the ride in 2020.
Blessings,
Dave, Jennifer, Ainsley (8), Cecily (5), and Dawson (2) King
2016 – Hello From the Future
Greetings friends and family:
The future just drove, hovered, and purred by me – all on my two-block walk to work. First, a self-driving Volvo drove by me – sans driver. Thanks to Uber I can now summon one of these autonomous vehicles with the tap of my phone. Mind blown. Next, a commuter hovers past me on a hoverboard, Marty McFly style. Then, a dad piloting a cargo bike with his two kids purrs past me in the other direction. Only he’s not powering the bike, an electric motor is. As I walk to my office I can’t help but think I’m living in an alternate reality where I’m observing the future pass before my eyes. Some people say living in San Francisco means you're a beta tester for the way the rest of the world will live in the future. Others say you just have an unhealthy tolerance for inclement weather, absurd housing prices, and tech bros. Either way, I figured I would give you a glimpse of the future in the King Family Christmas Card XIII.
Spoiler alert: Clinton supporters: relax. In the future we still speak English, not Russian. Trump supporters: be forewarned. The future in no way resembles Mayberry.
Here's what it actually looks like:
You need to win the lottery to go to public school
We entered Ainsley (5) into the city lottery to go to school. Yes, you read that correctly, there is a lottery to get into kindergarten. As if parenting in San Francisco isn't hard enough, the city throws in an obstacle course that may force you to transport your kids to any school in the 49-square mile city. We gave Ainsley the same odds of getting into our neighborhood school as CNN gave Donald Trump of winning the election. Ains loves the school because they start each day with 10-mins of hip-hop dancing (she does a mean Cupid Shuffle). Jennifer and I love the school because all the PTA meetings are alcohol-infused. We haven't been to as many beer fests and wine tastings since grad school. Lest you worry that Ainsley has turned her back on her indigenous Peruvian preschool education, have no fear. She takes an after-school bus to meet her sister Cecily (2.5) so they can continue learning Quechua.
Coolers cost more than refrigerators
My younger brother and his family joined us for a family camp in the Sierras last summer. Not only did he roll up in one of his three fancy cars (we only have one car) after buying 50 acres for his new home (we rent on less than 1/10th of an acre) but he also showed up with a cooler that keeps ice cold for a year. I have no problem with the cars and the land, but the cooler sparked serious gear envy. Every day I had to hike to the lodge to retrieve bags of ice to resupply my Coleman cooler. Meanwhile, he did nothing and his cooler stayed frosty cold all week. Sure his Sasquatch, Polar Bear, Yeti, or whatever-you-call-it cooler costs more than my refrigerator, but it keeps ice cold for a week! Given the choice between having an autonomous car and a cooler with ice that doesn’t melt, I’d take the latter. Of course, in the future, we get both.
Leadership development isn’t a perk, its a full-time job
Remember when video game tester was everyone’s dream job? Diversity training and leadership development is the new gaming in this brave new world. Jennifer is so busy participating in three company-sponsored leadership development programs that she hardly has time to actually lead. She’s a woman in tech which around here is as rare as a unicorn. She just celebrated 11 years at Google which is long enough to be considered a fossil by her employees but not long enough to spend her time riding around on a hoverboard thinking about algorithms that can solve death.
Women’s rock climbing is a scholarship sport
Ok, this one is actually just wishful thinking since Ainsley is insanely good at climbing. She’s already climbing routes as hard as the ones I do. And while I’m no Alex Honnold, it’s still pretty impressive when you consider the fact that she’s five years old and draws a crowd while climbing at the gym. We’re hoping the NCAA extends Title IX beyond sports like soccer. Ainsley played soccer this year and we’re not holding our breath for a soccer scholarship – just saying.
Everyone is broke but lives large
In the future, everyone lives in a shoebox and feels broke but lives large. We are no different. Sure we don’t have a working furnace but we do have a personal driver (Uber), a personal grocery shopper (Amazon Fresh), an on-demand courier (Shyp), a valet parking attendant (Luxe), a butler (Alexa), a home theater (Netflix), a DJ (Spotify), and virtual friends (Snapchat).
Of course, there are a few things that haven’t changed at all:
The city bus is as popular <strikethrough> crowded as ever
Despite all the new modes of transportation people still ride the city bus. We find it the best way to safely transport a 2-year-old around the city. Of course, the bus is always packed which provides a captive audience for Cecily’s antics. As regular readers know, Cecily has a healthy set of lungs. She was thrown out of the nursery the day she was born because she was too loud. Her preschool teachers recently confided in us that Cecily is the loudest student they have ever had in the history of the school. So, if paid professionals like nurses and preschool teachers can’t handle Cecily imagine how difficult she is for amateurs like us. Just the other day we were on a crowded bus when Jennifer asked Cecily what she learned at school. Cecily smiled and then turned towards the other passengers and screamed: “I don’t like that. Keep my body safe.”
Work/life imbalance
Whoever invented the term work/life balance either doesn’t have a job or doesn’t have kids. I like to say you can have a job, kids, or a life – but you can only pick two of the three. Of course, we’re always looking for creative ways to bring work and life together. One of those was having Ainsley join me on a week-long business trip to New York #Looks_Like_An_Intern_But_Travels_Like_a_Boss. In her eyes, the Statue of Liberty and Freedom Tower paled in comparison to the fact that you can buy a pretzel on the street.
The decade of poop
Despite all the new technology, nobody has figured out how to avoid losing an entire decade (our thirties) to poop. I recognize this isn’t a socially acceptable topic for a holiday card, but it’s true. We spend the entire decade of our thirties dealing with poop. Wake up early, walk the dog, and pick up the poop. Wake the kids up, change the diapers, clean up the poop. Go to work, listen to millennials tell you they should be CEO, and tell them their work is actually poop. Go into the bathroom, close the door, and enjoy five minutes of silence even when you don’t need to poop. I hope the next Zuckerberg is working on a clever solution to restore this lost decade.
Thank you for your friendship. We cherish it even more than everlasting coolers and pedal-free bikes.
Blessings,
Dave, Jennifer, Ainsley (5), and Cecily (2) King
2015 – Circus Act
Dear Friends and Family:
It’s 4:30am. I’m awake. I’m always awake at this hour. Not because I subscribe to an “early to bed early to rise” mindset but because our 1.5 year-old’s internal clock is permanently set to Eastern Standard Time. Jennifer thinks Cecily is a Southern girl at heart. I say Southern Jersey. She is so loud and persistent that she’s more becoming of Chris Christie than a Southern debutante. The Jersey girl is now staring at herself in the mirror and making lion noises. This is the quietest it will be all day so I better start writing the King Family Christmas Card XII.
6:10am: Our nanny just texted, she’s not coming this morning. At least she gave us a five-minute warning. Last week she was absent without notice because she thought it was Sunday. Jennifer fires off a flurry of emails to reschedule her morning meetings so she can take the girls to school. Meanwhile I put down my laptop and the Jersey girl (who screams with disapproval) to cook a couple eggs and slap together PB&J sandwiches.
6:30am: Time to wakeup Sleeping Beauty. Or is it Snow White, Belle, or Jasmine? Ainsley sleeps in a different princess costume almost every night. Above her hangs a 3-D modal of the solar system. She loves planets almost as much as she loves Frozen. Pro tip: if she asks you what your favorite planet is don’t say Pluto. She’ll give you a diatribe on how Pluto isn’t a planet (it was declassified in 2006) and why you should like Haumea (another dwarf planet) more. She wants to visit Mars but only if NASA will let her wear an Elsa dress. I told her she might have the opportunity to go to Mars if she studies hard in school. She responded by saying “I’ll study hard, daddy. I’m going to study Spanish.”
7:00am: The kitchen is a disaster. Cecily is throwing her eggs and toast on the floor and laughing as Nelson (the dog) laps it up. Their symbiotic relationship now has Nelson tipping the scales at 105 lbs. We put him on a low-fat diet and exercise regimen, which only made him angry. He protested by scarfing down a 12-pack of PowerBars and two loaves of bread. His portly build may have saved his life though. Earlier this year an SUV hit Nelson in front of our house. We rushed him to the emergency vet. $800 later the vet report read: “As if by divine intervention, Nelson has no identifiable injuries.” God may deserve credit for sparing Nelson’s life but the extra 30lbs of padding probably didn’t hurt.
7:30am: Jennifer and I rush off to work. She’s celebrating 10-years at Google while I’m celebrating 10-weeks of employment. I shut down my own startup earlier this year after I realized I didn’t like my boss. Without a paycheck, I started valuing my time at $0/hour. So, I ended up doing jobs I ordinarily would have outsourced. Take the backyard for example. After Nelson’s bout with the SUV Jennifer decided to remodel our backyard. When she showed me landscaping quotes I thought i) I’m in the wrong industry and ii) I’ll do it myself. Jennifer’s dad designed a terraced stone and turf landscape while I supplied the muscle. I must admit that pounding rebar through railroad ties made me feel manly. I must also admit that trying to get out of bed the next morning made me feel elderly. I finally decided that I’m better off writing PowerPoint slides for a living than landscaping.
5:00pm: I stroll to the Bart station to take the train four stops to the girls’ school. But the train stalled on the tracks. So I wait. 5:15pm. And wait. 5:30pm. I’m now eyeing the clock, knowing that I have to pick the girls up by 6pm. I abandon the train, order an Uber, and scurry above ground. The Uber driver cancels due to heavy traffic. I order a Lyft. Then my phone dies. In San Francisco a charged phone is considered a basic need for human life. You can summons food, water, and shelter with your phone. I used to think fire was the one human need more basic than the iPhone. Then we ran out of firewood during our Fourth of July camping trip. A few iPhone taps later and a Postmates courier showed up with several boxes of firewood (yes, we live in a bubble). However, if your phone dies, you mine as well die with it. I’m in the middle of San Francisco with a dead iPhone so I start to run.
5:50pm:
Daycare closes in 10 minutes and I’m still two miles away. Even Meb Keflezighi couldn’t leg out that distance in time. So I stop running and burst into a nearby auto dealership. “I need a car!” I yell. Judging by the looks on the people's faces they thought I was robbing the place. I explained that my phone was dead and I needed an Uber. They gave me a futile look as if I just told them I had Ebola and needed a cure. Then an old school cab pulled up in front of the dealership and I dove in the back.
6:07pm: I arrive at daycare seven minutes late. I fork over the $70 to cover the $10/min late fee and liberate Ainsley and Cecily. I’m pretty sure I can get brain surgery elsewhere in the country for $10/min but in San Francisco that’s the going rate for daycare. Again, I’m in the wrong business.
6:30pm:
The bus we normally take home drives past us without stopping. I carry the two girls and three backpacks to a nearby Mexican restaurant where a few quesadillas makes everything okay. Jennifer and I feel like we perform a circus plate-spinning act daily. But unlike circus performers, we drop and shatter our plates. Fortunately we have an app that delivers new plates.
We wish you a Merry Christmas and send blessings from our circus to yours.
Holiday blessings,
Dave, Jennifer, Ainsley, Cecily, and Nelson
2014 – Self-inflicted Pain
Dear Friends and Family:
The NFL, CIA, and Justin Bieber proved that no matter how self-destructive you are, its always possible to self-inflict even more pain. This year, we followed the leads of these venerable institutions by saying “thank you sir, may I have another” to painful life events. We’re hoping self-inflicted pain is an isolated theme of 2014 and not a defining reality of our 30s. I now present the King Family Christmas Card XI: a bruised-bottom recap of 2014.
Sleep Deprivation – In July we welcomed our second daughter, Cecily, to the family. We appreciate all the congratulations from those of you without infants and all the condolences from those of you with them. Someone should tell the CIA that if they want to use sleep deprivation as an interrogation tactic they should just give inmates two infants on different nap schedules. We live with the constant anxiety of knowing Cecily's fire siren scream may sound at any second. I can’t think of an 8lb object on earth that can generate more noise than our daughter. Maybe she’s paying us back for giving her a name few people can pronounce.
Home Improvement – Cecily’s arrival catalyzed our move from our shoebox apartment to a single-family home. We moved into a classic San Francisco Victorian located 100-yards from our old apartment (yes, we still paid the movers a fuel surcharge). Built in 1870, the home features period details. It also features no insulation, a self-washing garage that floods every time it rains, and Norwegian rats. Our broker cites the fact that the house didn’t fall down during the 1906 earthquake as evidence of its durable craftsmanship. Only in San Francisco can you live in a house that doesn’t meet last century’s safety standards and still control its lights, smoke alarms, and security cameras from your iPhone.
Boston (Not So) Strong – Frequent readers know about my love/hate relationship with the Boston Marathon. In 2010 I blacked out at mile 25 and woke up in Beth Israel hospital after puking all over the first responders. Fast forward to 2014, I returned to Boston to be #BostonStrong. A more appropriate hashtag would have been #BostonBrittle. Unbeknownst to me at the time, the “pulled muscle” in my leg was actually a stress fractured femur which I stressed every step of the 26.2 mile race. Jennifer found me in Boston Common puking and unable to walk. The sports medicine team for the San Francisco 49ers treated me. So, I assumed the doc was referring to his experience with elite athletes when he said, “I see this injury a lot.” He then informed me that my injury is common amongst 90 year-olds who don’t drink enough milk. I’m finally walking again and have a t-shirt that reads: “Boston makes me puke."
“Break" Dancing – Jennifer and I celebrated our 11-year wedding anniversary by attending a co-worker’s wedding. We figured watching a wedding ceremony would be a great way to remind ourselves of the joys of marriage before diapers and sleep deprivation. Jennifer succumbed to the whiskey bar and 80s cover band and ended up on the dance floor with a young, attractive dance partner. A few minutes and an ill-fated dip later she was on the floor with her knee completely out of socket. We reduced the dislocation right there in front of the who’s who of Silicon Valley. I’m tempted to point out the moral of the story (a’hem, don’t dance with other men on your anniversary) but will keep my conclusions to myself. After all, Jennifer has spent two months on crutches answering the question “whoa, what happened to your knee?”
Inca Girls – After two years on the waiting list, Ainsley was admitted to one of these “only in San Francisco” pre-schools where kids grow their own vegetables and have tribal councils. The school is bilingual so we were thrilled that Ainsley would learn another language at a young age. We just didn’t expect that language would be Quechua. Yep, you’re reading that correctly. Ainsley won’t be able to communicate with the ~50% of Californians who speak Spanish or the ~1 billion people who speak Mandarin but she’ll be all set when she bumps into any indigenous Peruvians. At least she’s learning good Peruvian values. The other day Jennifer told her she wanted to “steal a kiss” to which Ainsley responded, “Mom, the Incas say its not nice to steal.” Despite our better judgment Cecily will join her big Inca sister at school in January.
Temporary Truce – Throughout history even the worst conflicts have had temporary truces, such as the Christmas Truce of WWI. We too, had a brief truce in the form of Stanford Sierra Camp. Family camp turned my life upside down in that “I never knew something so ridiculously amazing exists” kind of way. Where else can you farm your kids out to fun, free, and responsible babysitters while you stuff your face with gourmet food, don’t do dishes, and choose from an array of mountain sports? In my opinion, the most beautiful woman on the planet these days (aside from my foxy wife) isn’t a super model; it’s a super dorky sophomore who is willing to watch my kids. Of course, Stanford students staff the camp, so we weren’t surprised when a student eloquently explained how the Andromeda Galaxy and the Milky Way will collide and then fed our infant a bottle of water because she couldn't figure out how to mix baby formula.
To quote Conan O’Brien in his Harvard commence speech: “If you can laugh at yourself, loud and hard, every time you fall, people will think you’re drunk.” We laugh at our lives daily and couldn’t feel more blessed. May you and your family experience deep joy, laughter, and the grace of God no matter how much pain you self-inflict.
Blessings,
Dave, Jennifer, Ainsley, Cecily, and Nelson King
2013 – You Might Be A Californian If...
Dear Friends and Family:
There is no worse insult for a Pacific Northwest guy and a Southern girl than being called a Californian. That's the term we once reserved for people who cut you off on the road, ski in blue jeans, and complain about foam in their lattes. But after living in the Golden State for almost a decade and taking our daughter skiing in blue jeans we started asking ourselves "we aren’t Californians, are we?" For those of you in similar states of denial or for those of you who simply want a little more anti-CA fodder we've created a self-test:
You Might Be a Californian If...
…your real estate agent asks you if you're going to pay with cash or Bitcoin.
Thanks to a steady stream of multi-billion dollar startups with elusive business models (e.g. Twitter, Pinterest, Path, Square, Zynga, and so on) the San Francisco real-estate market is now frothier than the Dutch Tulip market of 1637. One Saturday morning I rolled out of bed, put on a hoodie and strolled into a nearby open house. Confusing me for a much wealthier engineer, the agent informed me that the seller would consider taking payment in either cash or Bitcoin. Bitcoin? What happened to a traditional bank-originated mortgage? Mention the word "financing" and the agent will give you a "don't you belong in Oakland" look and find the next hoodie clad visitor.
…you spend more time on your kid's pre-school application than you did on your college application.
We applied for pre-school when Ainsley was six months old. I labored over the twenty-page application and felt like a conscientious parent until I dropped it off at the school. "You mean she's already six months old? Why did you wait so long?" The admissions director commented. First of all, what preschool has an admissions director? Second of all, how do you write an essay "describing your child's intellectual curiosity" when you child is still in utero? I figured I had ruined Ainsley’s chances at formal education until 18-months later when we finally got a call for an interview. The interview consisted of a super awkward session where three families "compete" for one spot in a no-holds-barred Hunger Games-style playoff. While the other two kids modeled Victorian-era buildings out of blocks Ainsley stole the kids' shoes, turned on all the bathroom faucets, and told the teacher how much she likes “hangovers” (her pronunciation for hamburgers). Either the school made a miscalculation or the other two kids opted for early enrollment at Cambridge because Ainsley received her acceptance letter.
…the only cars your two-year old knows are Tesla and Prius.
Whenever Ainsley sees a Tesla or Prius (which is every third car here btw) she points emphatically and shouts out its name. Of course whenever she sees an old combustion engine hatchback she yells "daddy's car." Little diva.
…your entire family thinks you're in tech support.
Here is the transcript of a recent phone conversation between my dad and Jennifer.
HK: “Jennifer, I need your help.”
JK: "Hi, Howard. I just stepped out of a client meeting in New York. What's up?"
HK: " I can't log into my Gmail account."
JK: "You may need to clear your cookies."
HK: "Clear my what?"
JK: "Cookies. The computer probably cookied Becky's account."
HK: "What does this have to do with Becky's cookies? I just want to read my email newsletters."
Two phone calls later Jennifer finally reunited my dad with his email newsletters. To this day I'm not sure my parents realize that Jennifer is in Google sales, not tech support.
…you think doing an Ironman sounds like a good idea.
It’s a fact. If you live in San Francisco long enough, you’ll start to think competing in an Ironman triathlon is a good idea. Never mind the fact you never learned how to swim. I clearly drank enough of San Francisco’s Hetch Hetchy tap water because I decided doing an Ironman while launching a startup and raising a toddler was a brilliant idea. I accomplished the requisite 15 hours of training per week late at night – often running in Golden Gate Park after midnight. The park's pot smoking residents cheered me on the same way all those kids did for Rocky during his training montage in Rocky II.
I woke up at 4:30am on race day and plunged into icy Lake Tahoe while the air temperature hovered just above freezing. 140.6 miles and 12+ hours later, my college roommate, Jeff, and I crossed the finish line. Jennifer and Jeff's wife, Stacey, cheered us on while wearing custom printed t-shirts which read "Iron Wives" on the front and "Don't even think of trying this $&@! again" on the back.
…you work with geniuses whom have intelligence quotients of 160 and social quotients of 6.
One of my co-workers recently sprayed me in the face with an aerial drone squirt gun and then asked me for extra desk space for his intruder-detecting laser turret. I'm having a blast as the gray-haired marketing guy at Highfive.
…your kid starts dressing like a hipster.
Startup hours give me the opportunity to hang out with Ainsley in the mornings. So I get a daily dose of heartburn when she wants to wear skinny jeans and converse and then dance to Daft Punk everyday. She doesn't have much interest in princesses or Disney characters – just shoes, indie rock, and premium single cup drip coffee.
…you help your dad optimize his online dating profile.
Lookout ladies. Jennifer's dad is back on the market. Well, at least he was for a short period of time. He met a new woman the old fashioned way – on match.com. Jennifer, now very adept at providing relationship advice to the twenty-somethings she manages at Google, simply added her dad to her list of weekly 1:1s.
…you expect acrobats and ventriloquists at company holiday parties.
Hop into any Silicon Valley cafe in December and you can overhear the millennials concocting Wedding Crashers-style plans for company holiday parties. "Tuesday night I'm hitting the YouTube holiday party because Jay-Z is there. Wednesday I'm hitting the Dropbox party because they have aerial bartenders that serve drinks from the ceiling" and so on. Frankly, Jennifer and I eschew elaborate company parties in favor of anything with balloon animals or free childcare.
…you put your family Christmas cards online.
Don’t ask me why, but ever since I wrote the first King family Christmas card friends have asked me when I'm going to put them online. I gave them my version of a “when pigs can fly” answer by saying: "when you can shop for health plans in an online exchange." Thanks to healthcare.gov I had to pony up less than $700M to put a few old letters online. If you're bored silly this Christmas you can check them out at www.davebking.com - password: California.
We hope you are enjoying the holidays wherever you find yourself this season. When we reflect on the past year we recognize our most valued treasure is our relationships with all of you. May God bless you and your family in 2014.
Blessings,
Dave, Jennifer, Ainsley and Nelson King
2012 – Mission Impossible
"Oo-rah" I holler proudly as I wrap up a home boot camp video. Jennifer raises her eyes from behind her computer and disgustedly surveys the pool of sweat on the living room floor. “What? I’m working,” I remind her as she returns to her spreadsheets shaking her head. Since leaving my job to pursue a startup my only income has been the $40 I received from a focus group hosted by one of those ex-military fitness companies that caters to latte-sipping civilians. I repeatedly point Jennifer to those two crisp $20 bills to substantiate my employment status as a special operations professional. “Why don’t you work on the Christmas Card, commander?” Jennifer says with a heavy dose of sarcasm. After doing the quick math I figure my living expenses may exceed my SpecOps income so I reluctantly oblige and begin the King Family Christmas Card IX.
Dear Friends and Family at CENTCOM:
Sixteen months ago you tasked us with a real-life Mission Impossible: raise a child in San Francisco - the city with the fewest kids per capita of any metropolitan area in the United States. Below is a status update on our 2012 covert operations.
Operation Polish Nanny
We suffered big losses in the Eastern European front this year. The polish nanny whom we hired because of her cultural ties to Coach K's homeland turned out to be a double agent. What started as a disciplined education for Ainsley quickly turned into an iron fist for mom and dad. Jennifer and I played rock-paper-scissors each morning to see who had to come home first that evening to relieve the nanny. The loser arrived home to the pungent smell of fermented cabbage and an emotionally charged lecture on everything from proper disciplinary techniques to the importance of canine dental hygiene. Unable to endure the torture, we sought refuge in a downtown daycare. Our attempts to restore diplomatic ties with the nanny have been unsuccessful ever since Jennifer refused to gift her our entire firewood pile.
Underground Operations
Our asylum at the daycare forced us to take our mission underground where we commute to and from work on the municipal rail system. It’s a high-risk insertion and extraction strategy due to the geologically active fault lines, inattentive muni drivers, and hypertensive business people. Fortunately, Ainsley has a penchant for turning strangers into agency assets. She lures an unsuspecting businessman with a game of hide and seek and then forces him to eat Google-subsidized organic fruit snacks out of her hand. Recently the underground operations turned violent when Ainsley jerked her head backward and gave Jennifer a bloody nose. Jennifer silently escaped via Mission St. where the locals don't even pay attention to gunshot wounds so long as the bullets miss critical organs.
New Recruit Boot Camp
We decided to jump off the fiscal cliff and enroll Ainsley in Special Forces daycare where she joins a handful of highly skilled future operatives. I'm confident that if you saw the quality of these kids’ finger paintings you would rest assured of our future security. I'm particularly pleased that her curriculum includes twice-weekly trips to the San Francisco farmer's market so she develops an early affinity for overpriced produce and micro roasted fair-trade coffee. Recently the school launched its annual fundraiser, which seems peculiar given its status as a for-profit entity owned by Mitt Romney's private equity firm. The good news is they accept stock options for those looking to shed excess Facebook, Twitter, and Square shares.
Domestic Relations
During a casual afternoon stroll we suddenly noticed that we were the only ones in the street wearing clothes. Sure, the men around us donned assorted accessories (leather straps, collars, and such) but their outfits weren’t exactly concealing. I'm confident that Ainsley is now the youngest person to march in the Pride Parade. The city has now put Supervisor Scott Wiener (yes, that is his real name) in charge of crafting its public exposure laws. At least nobody can claim we didn't "expose" Ainsley to new things.
Allies
Our mission would not be possible without our broad coalition of allies including: city subsidized parks and museums, Noe Valley street fairs, sushi restaurants with kids menus, coffee shops with stroller parking, and caffeine.
Memorium
On a somber note, we are saddened to report that Jennifer’s mom, Ann, ended her long struggle with ALS this year. At only 58 years of age her departure reminds us that our time here on earth is fleeting but the impact we have is eternal. She made it long enough to meet her first granddaughter, Ainsley, and was able to spend quality time with her and Jennifer before she passed. Her legacy lives on through everyone who was impacted by her positive attitude and energy.
We thank God for all of His blessings including the gift of your friendship. May you find joy and humor in your life's missions this holiday season.
Many blessings,
Dave, Jennifer, Ainsley, and Nelson
2011 – Songs of the Season
Dear Friends and Family:
We send you warm wishes and holiday greetings from San Francisco. This year we decided to forego our annual Christmas travel routine and TSA physical exam to hunker down and endure the bitter 50-degree winter in the City by the Bay. Jennifer stocked the shelves with canned goods and micro-roasted, fair-trade coffee while I conducted a Native American rain dance to ignite our furnace, which was installed right after the 1906 earthquake. Jennifer masks the pungent smell of our geriatric furnace with fragrant holiday candles and turns on Christmas music. Each holiday title elicits my nostalgia for events that occurred during the past year. Then, Jennifer wakes me from my reminiscence and thrusts a blank laptop screen in front of me: "No more excuses," she asserts, "time to write the Christmas Card." I glance over at our daughter who is peacefully sleeping in the next room and know that this window of silence won't last long. With that I put keystroke to keyboard and share with you the King family “Songs of the Season” in Christmas Card VIII.
Silent Night
In the middle of the night on August 22nd, Jennifer and I hailed a cab and just like in the movies told the cabbie "to the hospital, and step on it!" But, of course, this is San Francisco where the cabs are hybrids and with gas at $4.50 a gallon the driver wouldn't think twice about engaging the combustion engine so instead we slowly and silently putted our way across town to the hospital. Ainsley Nicole King was born later that evening. Nana, Doc, close friends, and family on Skype greeted her with champagne and thunderous applause. But lest Ainsley get the wrong idea about entering the King family, we reset her expectations on the ride home when we blew a flat tire. 48 hours into parenthood I'm underneath the car with a jack, spare tire, and a German language instruction manual while my newborn daughter sleeps in the back seat. Welcome to the family, Ainsley.
We Three Kings
My younger brother Brian finally got married this year. We weren't sure if Brian would ever get married - sure, he's tall, handsome, and affable but he didn't exactly put himself in female-rich markets (not a lot of eligible women in the BNSF train yard in the middle of the Mojave desert). Every business student knows you want to have a large total addressable market - same applies for finding a spouse (why else would I consider marrying a girl from the University of North Carolina?). Fortunately my mom intervened in Brian’s situation and orchestrated an Ocean's 11-style scheme to setup Brian with his amazing wife, Ashley. Ashley works at the same hospital as my Dad and I keep thinking how funny it would be if their patients ended up seeing the wrong Dr. King. Patients would come to get their back fixed and end up having a gynecological exam. I think my Dad and Ashley should setup their own shop and bring new meaning to the term “family practice.” They could call it King & King: Backs and Bellyaches.
I had the good fortune of officiating the ceremony. Yes, feel free to refer to me as Reverend King. In between long days at work and long nights with a new baby I Had a Dream - to pass the 16-part exam to become an ordained minister. Each part consisted of entering a separate digit of my Mastercard number online. They say the American Fellowship Church is one of the most prestigious institutions around so if you are looking for a minister anytime before my one-year ordination expires, give me a call.
All I Want for Christmas is a Daycare
For my next career I'm coming back as a childcare provider. Forget occupying Wall Street I want to occupy Kindercare. I called the daycare when Jennifer was three months pregnant and they informed me that the waitlist for infant daycare was two years (at which point your child is too old for infant daycare). Since Ainsley may in high school before we can get her into daycare we decided to look for a nanny. We found a great Polish nanny whom I immediately picked as my favorite because I figured she had the best chance at making Ainsley's first word "Krzyzewski." You can imagine my disappointment when the nanny said she had never heard of Coach K. I figured the citizens of Poland kept bronzed busts of Duke's hall of fame coach on their mantles. This mishap made me second-guess the nanny but Jennifer says she'll be great for Ainsley's development. We'll see, I keep telling Jennifer she's out of touch with reality and will probably commit social suicide for Ainsley by posting her profile on MySpace or Friendster.
The Twelve Pounds of Christmas
Only eight weeks after Ainsley's birth Jennifer decided she was wanted to shed that pesky pregnancy weight so she checked into the hospital and underwent a week of medically supervised starvation. No food, no water, only a saline drip. She dropped more than 2lbs per day. Not yet satisfied, she decided to get rid of non-essential organs. Her gallbladder was the first victim. Five surgeries later I can say that none of Jennifer's organs are entirely safe from her wrath. I keep telling her appendix that Jennifer is crazy right now and if it so much as looks at her the wrong way it may be next on the list for extraction. While Jennifer was laid up with in the hospital I took advantage of the opportunity to dress Ainsley in mismatched clothes and Duke apparel. Ainsley quickly fell in love with her Nana, Doc, aunts, uncles, and cousins whom flew to California to care for her.
I'll Be Home for Christmas
We spent 16 nights out of the last few months in the hospital (including Christmas Day) as Jennifer's surgeons performed five different procedures. Had her hospital been associated with Starwood, Jennifer would have attained Gold Preferred status. We spent Christmas Day in quarantine at the hospital as Jennifer fought off a couple post-surgery infections. Yes, that is the reason this card is delinquent - bet you haven't heard that excuse before. Before you feel too badly for us spending Christmas in the hospital, we did get to stay in a $5,000 per night room while enjoying the best views in all of San Francisco, 24-hour concierge service, and all-you-can eat Jell-O - all on someone else's dime. Thanks to the wonderful medical staff Jennifer is now at home in perfect health. All of you, as family and friends, were amazingly helpful and supportive which reminds us that "home" isn't the building where we curse malfunctioning appliances - its all of you.
God has blessed us immensely this year and when we count all of our blessings we always include you. May you and your family pursue your passions and find even greater fulfillment in 2012.
Many blessings,
Dave, Jennifer, Ainsley, and Nelson
2010 – "Nice Apps"
This year Jennifer and I transitioned from being young and relevant to old and out-of-touch. Yes, we each turned 30. Jennifer says I am living up to my age since I derive my knowledge of the college social scene from articles written by middle-aged sociologists in my alumni magazine. Still, Jennifer and I try to stay connected with today’s youth through technology. Apparently, the advent of the iPhone and iPad has changed the social fabric of high schools everywhere. “Do you want to see my apps” is now a perfectly legitimate pick-up line. Teenage girls everywhere are checking out guys’ iPad apps and scoring them based on coolness. For example, a Pandora Music app with a cool indie rock mix is a +1, while the Klingon Dictionary is a -2. The captain of the football team no longer rules the school - the socially awkward guy in the computer lab who makes apps does. He is much more likely to retire at the age of 19 and while he may not look like Matthew McConaughey, his Avatar does. So, since an app is worth a thousand words, we will share the apps that were on our iPad in 2010 for Christmas Card VII.
AirBNB (application for renting your house)
There are many things we love about San Francisco, such as its claim as the birthplace of the Chinese Fortune Cookie and the home of the world’s largest naked foot race, but our favorite part of living here is the constant stream of friends and relatives that cross the Golden Gate. As a result, we have visitor occupancy rates that Starwood would die for. Our record for 2010 was 15 consecutive days of guests. We aptly named our household WiFi network “KingHostel.” Jennifer can turn our guest room faster than Southwest Airlines can turn a 737 and keeps a healthy stock of liquids and gels in TSA-friendly 3oz containers. She even keeps a Ritz-Carlton-style database of our guest’s preferences. Eat of one of the assorted Ghirardelli chocolates on the coffee table and see which flavor bag ends up on your bed at your next visit. I think it is Jennifer’s way of nesting. In Noe Valley the saying is you need a stroller and a Labrador to fit in. Once, while I was out of town, Jennifer hosted my one year-old nephew and my fraternity brother for a night. As the three of them walked with our dog to Saturday morning brunch Jennifer commented: “I’m finally living the Noe Valley dream - of course the guy walking with me isn’t my husband and the baby in the stroller isn’t my child but, then again, anything goes in San Francisco.”
Google (if you don’t know what Google does, look it up... on Google)
Jennifer still works at Google where she is on the front-lines battling the generation gap. She manages Gen Y’ers (aka Millennials) and is helping them adjust to their first jobs in the real world. Imagine having to tell the best and the brightest from Harvard, Princeton, and Yale that wearing a Pizza My Heart t-shirt is not appropriate for client meetings. Or that showing up at the office at 3pm on a workday isn’t okay - even if the surf is unusually good. In all fairness, Jennifer’s proselytizing about professionalism seems a bit incongruous when the company has playground-style slides to go from floor to floor. Still, I think Jennifer deserves an award for her civic duty in helping Gen Y. Instead she’ll have to settle for unlimited free sushi, onsite massages, and additional perks every time someone mentions the word “Facebook.”
Garmin GPS (application for tracking runs via GPS)
24.6 miles into the 2010 Boston Marathon I was on a record pace and it appeared that my race strategy was paying off. You may be asking “what was the strategy?” More core strength training? A pre-race sweat to the oldies with Richard Simmons? No, I simply saved time by skipping all the frivolous water stations. It worked great until I passed out from dehydration a mere 10 minutes from the finish line. Since I didn’t regain consciousness until I was in the hospital with an IV dripping life back into me, the only recollection I have from the incident is from my Garmin GPS watch which mapped my speed, location, heart-rate, etc. Think of it as the black box flight recorder after a plane wreck. I use the incident as justification for more expensive electronics. Jennifer uses it to tell me I’m an idiot. Fortunately I have several great college buddies in Boston who helped me recover, including several newly-minted physicians and a fraternity brother with enough common sense to keep those physicians from operating on me. Yes, for all you home-gamers (and insurance carriers), my streak of annual, self-inflicted ER visits is still alive.
Facebook (the way half the world’s population communicates)
While we may be getting older, we aren’t getting any wiser - at least not when it comes to summer vacations. This year we decided to fly 16 hours to a freezing winter climate to sleep on the floor for four hours per night and cook and clean in a different language - and thought it was a blast. We helped out with Vida Joven Argentina’s youth camp and “friended” 90 incredible teenagers. We relive the experience daily through our Facebook status feeds where we can see what virtual vegetables our friends are growing on Farmville.
Kayak (online travel reservations)
Jennifer and I have logged enough air miles to rival George Clooney’s character in “Up in the Air.” I continue to chalk up miles for work while Jennifer has logged them for her travels back and forth to North Carolina for her mom’s doctor’s visits. Jennifer’s mom, Ann, continues her struggle with ALS (Lou Gehrig’s disease). Her spirits are high and we feel fortunate to spend quality time with her and the family. The entire family is concerned, however, for Jennifer’s safety given her love of driving her mom’s motorized wheelchair. Frequent King Christmas Card readers may remember our trip to Thailand where Jennifer got on a moped and accidentally drove it through the open door of a 7-11. She crashed the moped into an end-cap and ran out of the convenience store leaving the bike on its side with the engine screaming. Needless to say we banned Jennifer from driving the wheelchair in retail settings.
This holiday season we are overwhelmed with gratitude for your friendship and for the gifts of hope and love that God makes possible. We wish you the very best for 2011 and hope you will use one of your apps to plan a visit or send us a text, tweet, facebook, or courier pigeon.
Many blessings,
Dave and Jennifer
2009 – A Stroll Down 24th Street
Dear Friends and Family,
Greetings. It's an early mid-December morning and the crisp air fills me with delight as I count the waning days until Christmas. I grab my cup of tea and prepare for my commute pas the holiday hopeful retailers on 24th Street to the subway station. Jennifer shakes me from my holiday bliss and offers a pointed reminder: "I married you for your Christmas cards, not your looks, so get it done on time this year." Did I mention the romance in the air? "I'll write it on my way to work," I reply and head out the door searching for inspiration to fulfill my annual obligation. With that I bring you the King Christmas Card VI.
I begin my stroll down San Francisco's 24th Street by thinking about the recipients of this card, many of whom often ask us what life is like in the city by the Bay. People claim living in San Francisco is analogous to dating a supermodel – all your friends are jealous but the day-to-day reality can be a real pain in the... but I digress. We still love the city and the honeymoon effect has yet to wear off.
Bespoke Bike Shop
At the corner I walk past the neighborhood bike shop which was partly responsible for convincing me to pick up yet another expensive hobby I can't afford (as if golf and skiing weren't enough). Prior to this year I never understood the appeal of cycling – the attire alone served as an effective deterrent. Every sport has its iconic symbol – basketball has the Michael Jordan "jumpman" emblem, football has the Heisman trophy pose and cycling has an overweight male wearing skin-tight spandex and a bike helmet enjoying a latte at Starbucks. I must be reaching middle age because I too disregard public decency and have no qualms about picking up a sandwich in spandex. In fact, I have convinced myself that I bear a striking resemblance to Lance Armstrong. On the bike, however, I look nothing like Lance. Case and point, on a beautiful fall day I was descending Mt. Tam on a solo ride and fell rounding a turn at 25mph. I hit my head on the road (yes, this is my second head injury since Jennifer's investment in my graduate schooling for you home-gamers) and donated a health amount of skin to the scenic byway. The paramedics gave me a "free" ride to the ER. They claimed it was to look at my head but I'm convinced it was just for the comic relief of the nursing staff. When they saw my bike jersey (which has an x-ray image of the human spine and ribs and looks tough in all settings except a hospital) they unleashed a barrage of one-liners that rivaled Jay Leno's Tiger Woods material.
SmallFry's Baby Boutique
I cross the intersection and pass Jennifer's favorite retail shops. Had I known about these over-priced baby boutiques I never would have signed our lease. Jennifer has established a direct deposit at SmallFry's and buys more baby clothes than the OctoMom which is amazing considering the fact we don't have any children. We have been blessed by the arrival of countless friends' kids and are particularly thrilled to be aunt and uncle to our new nephew Rowan Grinnell. The fine merchants at SmallFry's make sure Rowan throws up on only the finest organic cottons and remembers his favorite aunt in the process.
Zephyr Real Estate Office
As I pass the next block I walk by several real-estate offices where they feature their listings in the windows. In my opinion no property described as "cozy" and "has great potential" should carry a seven-figure price tag. Jennifer claims that Nelson the dog wants a house. I'm pretty sure he just wants us to stop securing the lid on the kitchen garbage can. Not only do the real estate windows taunt us about housing but so do our siblings. Each of our younger siblings bought homes this year and regularly asks us when we are going to be successful enough to own a home. We reply "2040."
Ambiance
I walk past the real estate offices and see the street bench on which I have logged countless hours while Jennifer peruses the racks of retailer Ambiance in search of wedding outfits. We attended nine weddings this year and achieved elite status on three difference airlines in the process. My favorite part of weddings is meeting interesting people at the receptions. At one wedding we sat next to a couple who live a subsistence lifestyle in Alaska by gathering berries, bow hunting deer and canning food to survive. I told them we live a subsistence lifestyle in San Francisco by recycling our takeout containers and using the ceramic mugs at Starbucks. They weren't impressed. One of the most memorable weddings was that of Jennifer's sister, Karen. Karen married 1Lt. Kyle Collins just weeks before he deployed to Afghanistan. We are proud of Kyle's service and Karen's bravery and pray for a successful mission and expedient return.
BART Station
I arrive at the subway station in time to see one of the Google shuttles passing by. Inside Jennifer settles into one of its overstuffed leather seats, rests her laptop on the desk in front of her and connects to the free WiFi service for her morning commute. Meanwhile I join the cattle herd funneling me towards one of the oxygen-less entrapments the city calls public transportation. She waves at me and mouths "is the Christmas card done?"
As we reflect on the past decade and look towards the next we acknowledge the tough times but rejoice in the timeless blessing of community. Our lives are enriched by knowing you. We look forward to our next email conversation, phone call or stroll down 24th Street.
Many blessings,
Dave and Jennifer King
2008 – Change You Can Believe In
Dear Friends and Family:
After a several year reprieve from my responsibility as Christmas card author, Jennifer has enlisted me to resume my annual duty. Given all the recent talk about change and the State of the Union, I thought it appropriate to connect the dots between what is happening nationally and what is happening here locally.
Re-election –
After a hard fought re-election campaign Jennifer decided to keep me around for another 5-year term as husband-in-chief (the other candidate was some good looking but older Vietnam War hero from Arizona). Our college roommates commemorated the occasion by throwing an excellent party complete with a cake and a band. They even picked up our tab for dinner and filled a church for us to walk down the aisle together again. I suppose you could say they owed it to us since we introduced my college roommate (Jeff) to Jennifer's college roommate (Stacey) and kicked off their relationship at our wedding which resulted in marriage precisely five years later. Still we thought it was a nice gesture and it's the least they can do for making us feel bad that we aren't curing infectious disease and educating Africa's youth in Uganda.
Deficit Spending –
Jennifer is pleased to have me back as a semi-productive member of society after two years of early retirement at the GSB. The first thing they teach you in business school is to never let finances get in the way of personal development. As an eager student I took this to heart and personally developed myself on the ski slopes, golf course and on international study trips. Of course Jennifer was more than happy to slave away at Google for me to undertake such noble pursuits. Unfortunately the irrational exuberance has now come to an end and we have officially declared ourselves a bank holding company and are eagerly awaiting our emergency financial relief.
War on Terror –
Jennifer and I waged a month long war on the terror of going back to work. Our initial invasion into Turkey, Eastern Europe, Spain and Morocco was successful and we were greeted as saviors by the local trinket vendors. But we met huge amounts of resistance from foreign currencies during our occupancy. The Euro waged a particularly effective campaign – forcing us to seek shelter in bed bug infested youth hostels and limit our gelato rations to twice daily. Our traveling squad of four couples fought valiantly and to this day I would gladly take a non-air-conditioned overnight sleeper train for any one of them. Alas, we returned home to San Francisco at the end of a once proclaimed endless summer but with great memories and deeper friendships.
Housing Crisis –
Here in San Francisco we are feeling the effects of the housing crisis – not because of falling home values but rather the lack thereof. The city apparently came up with an algorithm which guarantees the stability of housing prices. It's pretty simple: 1 bedroom = $1 million; 2 bedrooms = $2 million and so on. Forget the fact that most of the houses were built around the turn of the 20th century, are dry rotting and located on the world's most perilous fault line. Sure a house may not have a garage, washing machine, or even a roof but if it has a bedroom then it has a price and its one you can't afford. Jennifer and I are loving our flat (rental) in Noe Valley which is where we will stay until we can find a house with a quarter of a bedroom.
Dependence on Foreign Energy –
With myriad ethnic cuisines here in San Francisco it is difficult not to grow dependent on these foreign energy sources. Take for example the Thai food place next to our house. It is delicious. While Barack has to deal with our nation's lust for SUVs and Middle Eastern oil, we have to deal with the fact that green chicken curry is simply much tastier than alternative corn-based biofuels. Call us non-patriotic but if building goodwill and full stomachs with our Asian, Indian and Italian brethren is wrong then we don't want to be right.
Drug Trade –
We are sad to report that the drug trade is no longer something we only read about in the paper and talk about in the abstract. It is something we are dealing with right here in our own home. Nelson (the dog) underwent ACL surgery last summer and despite having only three good legs at the time managed to find his pain medications and overdosed... twice. Two separate times we had to rush him to the emergency vet to get his stomach pumped and feed him activated charcoal. I'd like to feed activated charcoal to whoever came up with the ideas of chicken-flavored dog medications. I don't proclaim to understand the complexities of the drug trade but if I were fighting the problem on a global level I would start by making drugs taste bad.
During this holiday season we rejoice in the blessing of family and friends. Thank you being such an important part of our lives. We hope that during the good times and the bad you are able to experience the Grace of God and the beauty of community.
Many blessings,
Dave and Jennifer King