Before I got into town, Your Sis called to say the birthing class was postponed due to teacher illness. There's no word when it will be made up.
I took her out at Pescado's. While there I suggested a new name: Isaac. Two things work in its favor: 1) it's not common; b) it means "he laughed" in Hebrew, a reference to Abraham scoffing when God told him he'd bear a son at his old age. The Biblical allusion is a cute bonus (and that's all it is), but the sound of the name and its seeming rarity is the hook for me.
I've had a problem in suggesting names; Your Sister will veto them because she associates them with students of the same name. Isaac sounded safe, and I mentioned it over quesadillas. As we're commenting on this, she spied one of her students walking behind us and said hello.
"... You're shitting me."
"Nope, that's his name."
So I'm stopping with the names for a while. Unless a really great name leaps out at me.
My Mom, desperate to know the name right now, said S.C. hospitals fine parents who take a baby home without naming it first. I replied that we wouldn't rush into a name to avoid a fee. I'd rather behold the baby and realize he looks like a certain name than force a Jeremy to live as a Kevin.
This is becoming an obsession. Thank God Lost is there to distract me. It's a great episode this week. Again.
Between dinner and Lost, I assembled my new lawnmower. It's my first in a decade, and it's clearly more advanced. It's simpler and beefier and prettier, and I honestly can't wait to mow my lawn. I'm completely domesticated.
I started page 16 last night of the comic, and I'm just under one month before the convention. I'm anxious about wrapping up everything, and I plow through with my nose inches away from the art boards and ink.
Picture of the Day
My Name-o-tron robot has given up.