Responsibly Wild Blog

  Once again, we spent some New Years time in my favorite city in the world, Chicago. We had a good time. In fact, we had a great time. Truth be told, we had too good a time. We've been home for a day and I can not shake how our Chicago trip was this year. So rather than wallow in the reality of returning to our normal lives in suburban Iowa, I figure why not write down what was great about our time in the Windy City before it leaves my body and I forget why it is and was so good. I'll start with the lowest point. Wednesday, December 31 - Drive into a Party Last minute on Wednesday, we decided to leave a day early for our trip and 5 hours later we rolled in our Oak Brook hotel in prime New Years partying time. We stayed in Oak Brook as it was close to our planned Christmas lights event at Brookfield Zoo and almost always we're cooked after those dark, cold outings. The bummer with staying in a hotel on New Years Eve is it is a roll of the dice as the environment and the lob...

Modern storytelling has a massive problem. At this point we are more than 100 years into motion pictures and a couple decades away from that mark in television. In the venn diagram of those two mediums is a second plane; there have been three, maybe four generations of audiences who have consumed this artform and its cliches, and we know where too many plot, character, and narrative tracks are leading. I’m flipping tired of it. Netflix recently released a British set spy show called Black Doves. It’s getting a rather heavy push online and apparently people are digging it. I thought I was part of that crowd until halfway into episode four. Turns out, Black Doves is just another spycraft show where spies can get do anything in full daylight, survive any trap, and ultimately discover the world is a web of counter spies and somehow shadowy figures that pull the strings. I thought this bird had its feathers plucked bare 15 years ago, but apparently no. If you can snag a top shelf talent, ha...

  I love music . I love listening to it, writing it, playing it, performing it, noodling around on any instrument I can make sound interesting, and pretty much any other means of experiencing it. The problem with performing it is finding a group of friends or peers with similar tastes and available time to rehearse. At the moment, my problem is the latter. Full transparency, I wasn't literally kicked out of a band. Last September, I jammed with some old friends with the intent of making it a regular thing. Problem is I don't have time to make weekly band rehearsal a regular thing. I have two young kids and my intention is to be as active in their lives as their mother. So, while feeling guilty for the last 9 months that I never returned to jam, the day finally came where my absence was rightfully filled. Maybe I should have quit but the allure of being in a band is the healthiest drug I can imagine. Waffle Mouse (one of the many names the guys are considering, but haven't ...

As I type this two drastically different things are happening; I'm in California for a film festival and my mother, Linda Boberg, is lying in a Des Moines hospice bed. In fact she started hospice care the day I flew out here. As you can imagine, I'm experiencing quite the emotional tug of war. When you have a kid you commonly examine where they get certain traits. I've always been able to parse that I get my emotional, empathetic tendencies from my mother and my pragmatic, compartmentalizing skills from my Dad (another raging tug of war at the moment). This list could go on forever, but one thing I've never fully understood is where my creative drive came from. Now with the writing on the wall, it's obvious my mom flipped the creativity switch. It wasn't until my Mom self-published a novel at 65 years old that I understood how creative she is. In the last three years she's self published half a dozen books and written many more. Her first bout of cancer in 2...

  I am a positive person. I take people at their word, don't require anyone to earn my respect, and hope for the best. Living in the covid era has been an exhausting trial for many people, but I've always tried to ride the wave of no matter the situation, turbulence is to be expected and can be weathered. When our washing machine was overloaded and flooded our laundry room, I didn't freak out and get angry, I just started cleaning up. When our daughter was born and I had to juggle the new fog of parenting, I just put one hand in front of the other to change diapers, walk my daughter to sleep, and try to relish the fact that today's lows are tomorrows funny memories. Today, when I opened the fridge with a little too much gusto and a take home container of ranch went flying and exploded on the near by carpet I just ran, got some paper towels, and hopped too. Keeping cool and positive is state I try to maintain, even when life throws a deadly virus into your orbit. Skippin...

  Currently there is no bigger thing in our house than a fun little cartoon out of Australia called "Bluey." Emmalyn (my nearly four-year-old) loves it. Marieta and I laugh and cry at it frequently. Even Elliana (our five-month-old) loves the music and steals a glance every now and then. Beyond being a lot of fun, it is incredibly heartfelt and emotionally spot on. Currently all 50+, seven-minute episodes are available on Disney Plus and needless to say we have watched them all, multiple times. Marieta identified immediately how much the show's ethos lines up with our style of playful and attachment parenting. Bluey is the six-year-old playfully curious first born kiddo, Bingo is the four-year-old Bluey doppelgänger with a very big heart, Chilli is the too-smart-for–her–own–good, cautious, free spirit Mom and finally, the father dog "Bandit" is very much a variation of me; fun-loving, down for all kinds of silly games and adventures, and maybe cutting a corner h...