Thinning and Weeding and Working

The boy has grown. As I put him on my lap for a feeding, he seemed much heavier and much longer. His proportions are completely off, as if he walked out of a mannerist painting. His torso is about twice as long, and his head seems tiny. His spurt is in full flower. He chirps so much now we call him a mouse droid. Soon, he will be a jawa.

I emailed the derby contact to see what's going on with the logo entry, and she said the logo would soon make the rounds with the team for feedback. I'm content with the confirmation that the logos made it through email.

New webcomics are up here.

Your Relieved Sister presented her workshop yesterday and spent many an hour talking to the teacher now manning her AP class. School starts next week, but the first home football game of the season is tonight. We may drop by the stadium to see the first band performance. She loves watching them. I wasn't in band when I was in school, but the majority of my friends were. I can appreciate watching the performances, but I don't have the same visceral thrill. She's also supporting her former/future students, and I'm for that. When the band held a car-washing fundraiser a few years back, the kids didn't pack any food. This was right outside a local grocery store, and I bought them lunch and snacks so the money they raised wouldn't be split for food costs. I like to think they saw it as indirect help from Your Supportive Sister. To celebrate making it to this side of the workshop, we're hoping to grab ice cream inside the forest. Yes, our trees ooze dairy instead of sap. Children gnaw on the branches like desperate vampires.

The garden is on its last legs. The larger tomatoes are cracking from the excessive rainfall, bu they aren't quite ripe enough to pick. The carrot plants yielded nothing despite my best efforts to keep them separate from the creeping grass. The squash vines withered. The pepper plants, however, may outlive us all, and the cherry tomatoes are turning red. I sincerely have to prevent myself from eating them straight off the vine. I save them for salads and pizza toppings.

Picture of the Day
"And now I shall perform Van Halen's Eruption. You may want to step back."

Right. Star Wars Stuff

Catch them before they're gone.

Here's the newly unveiled scene from Return of the Jedi. As of this morning, this link worked. It's possible the blog-embedding code was deactivated, so here's the direct link.

As promised, here are the Bigg scenes removed from Star Wars.

and

For those of us who bought the official Marvel Comics adaptation after seeing the movie, we knew about this scene.


It was in the comic. So was the Jabba scene with Han. Marvel apparently worked from a script and reference photos of the film prior to the final edit. Also, it seems the reference pictures were black and white. Look at how they colored this rebel trooper.

And Jabba's appearance was apparently made up in Marvel's office. None of the cantina aliens looks like this.


The comics were the only way we kids who lived across town from the movie theatre could relive the film with any degree of fidelity. Seeing a movie more than once in a theatre was, pardon the pun, an alien concept to me.

So we don't leave out Empire, here's a scene cut from that film.

I remember a scene from Return where Jabba made Leia drink from his mug on the barge. That scene was cut before the movie made it to cable and then the networks.

So, So Much.

The first piece of news from this weekend is from Lucasfilm: Star Wars will move to Blu-Ray. Lucas himself says the new format films will be the special editions released in the late '90s. The originals, he said, would cost too much to polish. But, the new versions will include scenes deleted from the theatrical releases, meaning there are bits in these Blu-Rays that we have never seen. Things like this from the beginning of Return:

An unusually brain-taxing day at work left me dead from the neck up, but we began the birthday celebrations with pizza and wings. There must have also been beer because I don't remember much else.

On Saturday, Your Sis arranged for two babysitters for our two planned events. That morning we fled to the Highway 25 to see the earliest showing of Scott Pilgrim. But, first, I had to salvage the garden from a massive thunderstorm. Vines and plants were askew and akimbo and a-fucked up. The ground is saturated to the point the stakes can't stay upright. The garden soil has gone full Dagobah. I fixed what I could before the first sitter arrived. She is a former student of Your Sister's; in fact, she arranged the Voldemort cake. We have the short training lecture down pat and were out the door in a flash.

Your Sis went berzonkers when she saw the Dunkin Donuts near the movie theatre. We hit a lot of them during our Boston trips, and they're coffee won me over to the dark-drink side. We bought our tickets at the theatre and went back to grab coffee and doughnuts. They were snuck in along with our regular movie food. It wasn't difficult at all. I'm not sure the employees cared. Let me establish this now and forever more: Dunkin Donuts is missing a GOLDMINE by not selling inside theatres. It really works with buttered popcorn. Truly, truly decadent. Also the movie was a blast. Your Sister -- who never laughs at comedies -- laughed out loud. See it on a big screen while you can; the box-office was poor. The film ends differently than the comics, but it's not a significant difference.

That evening we jaunted to the Music Center for a live performance of Prairie Home Companion. It was not broadcast, but we assume it was taped. We ordered our seats early to guarantee we would not get lawn seats. We lucked out with those at the last show we went to. Sure enough, as soon as we checked the weather on our superspy phones, the clouds opened up, and it poured for more than an hour. Those with lawn seats had nowhere to go, and many people had no rain provisions. Unlike the radio show, this performance was three hours long, a possibility we warned the second sitter about. We got home before midnight, and I drove her back home. Both sitters said our notes were fine and the baby is cute.

Your Sister felt dizzy Sunday and stayed indoors. I ran the errands and did laundry. I enjoyed the memory of the previous days' coffee and ordered a cuppa from Starbucks. It was not the same. Not even close. I found out that there was a Scott Pilgrim video game from the magical PlayStation 3 servers, and I bought it and played it. It's very fun, and it's designed to look like the late-80s arcade fight games Scott would have grown up playing. It's made for multiple players to play at one time, so we can save you a seat in front of the console when you next visit.

As I tried to hush the house for Your Sleeping Sister, we of course got a phone call. It was the theatre again asking me to join the show. They baited the offer well: I was told they had a one-scene part with a lot of laugh lines. And I was told the theatre knew that I had chosen to "help [Your Sister] to care for the baby." And that's when the sales pitch crashed and burned again. I understand it's a generational thing, but I'm not "helping her" care for the bay. It's our baby. I just as responsible for making sure he doesn't burst into flames. This isn't a hobby I'm encouraging her in. It;s our child-ling. It's my fucking son. So now, I shan't prance about at the legion hall while Your Sister loses more sleep and decent eating habits. I hope this will be the last call on this matter.

I restored the garden after the previous evening's storm. We sat down to watch the ultimate cut of Watchmen, and we gave up with about an hour to go. It's a long, long version, superior to the theatrical version, but when the boy goes to sleep at night, we do too. We get our sleep while we can.

This morning, I again had to fix the garden after another storm. We're supposed to be drenched all week.

The Stump, She Is Gone

The stump finally fell off. He's wireless.

We had Kathy and Travis over for dessert Tuesday night. They are living in a hotel while their kitchen is being suddenly remodeled. They discovered a pipe that had never been capped inside their walls, and it leaked for what I assume is a year. The kitchen is a ruin. I made blueberry cobbler from a mix given by a coworker a few weeks back. They cooed over the baby, and he ate up the attention. He's also eating much more milk now. His scheduled growth spurt is right on time. He's only going to get heavier, and I really want to start a running regimen again to get in shape.

Still waiting for hear about the derby logo.

We started a service contract with a local air conditioner service, and the first inspection went great. That's pretty impressive for a machine that's run almost every day without any maintenance for five years. My notion for starting this contract is an extension of the nesting instinct, I'm sure. I made a to-do list of things to minimize sudden replacements like the clothes dryer last month.

I was contacted by the theatre again about auditioning for the latest show. Actually, I was told there was a part right up my alley, suggesting I wouldn't need to audition. I could show up, commit to the show, and get cracking. I passed. Twice within an hour. I was left a voicemail, and I declined over their voicemail. I was called back and given the live sales pitch, and I said I'm holed up with the youngin. But break a leg and have fun without me. See you when I see you. Also, in a shock to no one, this show replaces the originally advertised production.

Picture of the Day
We may have found a sidecar for the baby.

Face Glue

The boy developed an eye problem. We were told early on to express the tear ducts if they become blocked, and we've stayed on top of it, we thought. On Saturday, however, he woke up with an eye crusted over, and it threatens to seal up each time he sleeps. His eye itself isn't irritated; they both remain wet and clear. We clean the gunk away and clear out the duct. It seems to be getting slightly better. Maybe it was a sinus blockage.

I've had the same problem for about ten years now. I get gunk inside my eye, and it adheres my lid to my eyeball. I can hear myself blink. The docs say it's allergies. It's a mere inconvenience to me, but I worry it's a small trauma for the deputy. He seems more bothered by our ministrations than the gunk.

A lack of beef broth and the presence of some sort of moth in our rice bowl made me change dinner plans and make emergency alfredo. We fell into food comas and went to bed early.

Yesterday's massive rain shower was exactly what my new grass patch needed. I take it as karmic congratulations for much work done well.

Picture of the Day
Behold the many faces of the boy. It's uncanny.

The "you're not funny" face.

+ + +

The "gooned on milk" face.

Skip to the End

I am beat up.

I spent many a day this past week and weekend catching up on yardwork. Your Sis usually manages the flower beds in the front yard, and they've been neglected for about a year. We noticed all the trouble visitors had using the front walk and even navigating the wild branches between the first true bed and the front walk. Because we've settled the boy into something resembling a routine, I was able to get outside and hack away at the overgrowth. The front yard looks spindly now. My back feels spindly now. But one cannot deny the results of a workout routine that includes lugging around a ten-pound baby, hedge trimmer, and weedeater within an hour. I celebrated the end of the chore with a Throwback Pepsi.

Side note: Throwback Pepsis were advertised this winter as a limited release, but we saw a new stack of them yesterday and bought two cases. We'll ration them as best we can; Your Sis needs the caffeine some days.

We experimented with the Deputy's disposition and took him out twice this weekend. He was very popular with the ladies. He sleeps most of the time, and now he's able to sit quietly for long stretches. We turned on the sound monitor and had him sleep in his nursery Saturday night. It went fine. He wasn't in the crib; we'll work him up to that soon. But he did sleep much longer that night.

His umbilical stump is holding on only by a thin strand. It's coming off any time. His navel looks fine underneath. We started placing him on his stomach for ten minutes to help him build his torso muscles. We're trying to establish nighttime routines to prepare him for deep sleep. We use a zippered blanket sack and dim the house lights. Also, I feed him before we go to bed. He's gobbling a lot more milk at one time, and we rotate between feeding him from milk cubes, frozen milk bags, bottles, and the tap.

I met with the two derby reps Friday at an Asheville coffeeshop. Their notes on the logo were few and reasonable. I suspect they were nervous about asking for the adjustments, but I assured them I was happy to work with them and see the logo through to the final version. I miss collaboration like this. The biggest change involves color. While they admit they initially didn't want to restrict logo suggestions, they now want the logo to be closer to teh blue used for the first team. That's easily done. We met for maybe twenty minutes, and I surprised them by saying I could have the changes done by Monday. They're eager to get the logo out into the world to recruit new members and brand the team. Maybe it will debut before Friday.

Your Sister will go to a Pampered Chef party Thursday. We seem to have come out the otehr side of her "nursing cave" phase, and we can take turns heading out at night. We're planning his first road trip in to weekends to see My Mom. She's impatient to see the boy again and wants to show him off to the neighbors.

The ants are not completely gone, and Your Sis is on a slow boil about Terminex fixing the problem on their third try. I still haven't put in the ceiling fan, but I'd like to have that done before September.

Moving Pictures of the Day
Can I interest you in the official Lost epilogue?

OMFG It's The Official Lost Epilogue

Aunt(ie) Maimed

The Terminex man arrived Monday morning and smote the ants along our baseboards and house perimeter. But he did not smite the attic ants, and we remained sore afflicted. We called the office and asked him to come back the next morning, but we had a small window: Your Sis had jury duty, and I was taking Deputy Awesome to work. But, in a tribute to small-town customer service, he made that window exactly on time. Upon seeing photos of the corpse piles under the skylights, he visited the attic and found two nests. He blasted them with his magic Ghostbuster ant-zapper voodoo, and not one bug has been seen since. Victory.

Your Sis was able to leave on time for the courthouse and was sent home almost immediately. When asked if there was any reason she could not serve, she lifted the breast pump above her head and screamed "I'm made of milk, and my skin suit has holes."* She was excused for another three months but not before being asked if she would have the same milk problem then. Your Sis said she honestly didn't know. Over coffee, she called a longtime friend who also has kids and was told yes, she would still be nursing in November. So who knows? At least one day in November, I'll bring the kid to work again. Hmm, unless Your Parents are back in town. Or maybe I could telecommute. Again: Hmm.

* I lie.

Our day at the office was merely alright. I cheated and overfed him, inducing milk comas twice. He did indeed sleep, and I was able to get some work done. He was a bit distracting, I admit, but now that I've seen he can handle the new environs, I can drop my guard with him.

Our garden does well. We have plucked many a tomato and pepper, and Your Sister cleaned out my squash vines for a soup experiment. I didn't know that when I checked the garden, and I thought we had been veggie-robbed. I mowed.

I have not yet heard from the roller derby rep. I'm not concerned.

Picture of the Day
I retire to my library, Watson.

A Drama Weekend

As soon as I walked in the door Friday evening, Your Sister announced we again have an ant problem. Each summer, we discover a cloud of dying bugs in the kitchen and her bathroom. We usually respond with fresh traps in the cabinetry hidden from the cat(s). Among the normal ant representatives are flying ones. I always suspect they are termites, but Google searches show wings much larger than what we're seeing. She called an exterminator for an estimate, and he assured her we don't have termites. We decided to see how bad they got before we asked him to spray the house.

I put out feelers for a roller derby gang for Saturday night, and we went to Asheville that afternoon for baby shopping. The boy did well. He got his first car feeding and changing in the mall parking lot and slept for the majority of the outing. I wore him on the chest pack and discovered the old axiom about men with puppies and babies is true. Your Sister noticed this too and kept close.

We split up as the derby approached, and I heard from my usual fellow spectator. He brought one of his sons, and the two immediately quizzed me on the alter egos of comic characters. My name was announced at the civic center as the winner of the logo contest, and that was fun. Watching the bout was not. The opposing team was the derby equivalent of the Harlem Globetrotters, and they destroyed our team. That team, the Texas Hell Marys, was in the derby movie Whip It, and many people came out to see them, including teams hailing from cities hours away.

Sunday morning, I was still groggy from the evening (and the $5 beers) when Your Sister said the ants were back and she was keeping the baby away from them. I quickly dressed and drove to Lowe's to buy brand-name ant traps. I stopped in the store to ask for help about the ceiling fan, and here comes a little story detour.

To install a fan, you need to nestle the fan motor into an outlet box in the ceiling. My workshop already has an electrical outlet in my ceiling (probably to power a removed garage door), which means I don't have to run additional wiring. The existing outlet wiring will work fine. However, the outlet box is too small to house the fan. Replacing that box is easy enough, as is attaching the wiring to the fan. The problem is with the fan's weight. An outlet box by itself can't carry it; the box must be braced by an additional structure.

There are two kinds of bracing you can buy, either for new construction or old. New-construction kits are for unfinished roofs. You put in the kit and then nail up your ceiling from below. That won't work. I know this because I bought such a kit Sunday morning and tried it. I bought it out of frustration with my talk to the Lowe's employee who answered my help summons. He tried to talk me into an answer involving carpentry. I bristled as I don't have woodworking tools. Don't I have neighbors who can cut wood for you, he asked. I mentally asked why he didn't suggest his own store, which used to cut wood to specs. After about ten minutes of suggesting many overly complicated measures, he admitted he didn't work in the lighting department (I'm gonna guess he works in lumber.). It was then that I bought the kit and drove home much later than I had expected.

I put the traps in the kitchen and bathroom. The skylights were abuzz with flying and crawling ants. The last time we saw ants, they were swarming in my workshop, huddled in my lights for warmth, and I put traps in the attic and in the workshop. After I placed the traps this morning, I realized the bugs weren't streaming from the baseboards or the drains. They were coming from the skylight. Maybe the light seals were bad. I went on the roof and couldn't find any bugs outside the windows. I put a few traps up there anyway, but I was certain now that the ants were spilling out of the attic skylight seams and down into the house. Not two hours later, the bug numbers seemed to increase, and Your Sister announced her displeasure. Back to Lowe's I went. I bought spray and hanging traps and more of what I bought earlier. I raced home and slipped into the attic. I sprayed the skylight frames and placed traps throughout the attic.

An attic in August is a joy. It was a hot box of wood and fuzzy insulation, and I added to this a fog of chemicals. Also, I was a bit hungover from the derby, and I hadn't eaten anything. I tried the fan kit and proved to myself it wouldn't work. I may have to use the employee's carpentry notion after all, dammit. Anyway, the traps were set, and the numbers of bugs drastically declined throughout the day. We did see more silverfish, and we suspect my attic work drove them into the house where they quickly were squished. Still, the exterminator will be asked to go over our house Monday to ant-proof it.

When this drama was dwindling, Your Sister shuffled out of the nursery crying and whispering that she was in intense pain. I sat her down and called the OB/GYN. Because it was Sunday, the call went to the birthing center, and I gave them the info. We affirmed we were successfully breastfeeding and were told the doctor would call us back. He did so very quickly and told her to take Advil and see if it diminished. It did, but it spooked her. It hasn't come back as of this posting. She stayed home to let the medicine work while I went to the grocery store.

Her jury duty appointment was pushed back to Tuesday, and she will have the tree frog all day. I will take him to work Tuesday, and we're all curious about how that will go.

Picture of the Day
Toast defibrillator.

Struggles

On two consecutive days, Your Sister and Nephew have ventured beyond the driveway. She visited the OB/GYN to acquire the equipment to prevent another deputy. She's planning a trip to the airport shopping center Saturday as we fill in the missing items for the lone sidekick. He's become more frenzied lately, and a struggle has blossomed to get him to sleep. He now needs to be fully swaddled or he keeps himself awake by moving his arms. He hates having his arms bundled, and he protests mightily. He burns himself out crying and falls asleep. It's a little cruel, but it's for his benefit. And ours. If we try to placate him by sending him into a food coma, he plows through too much milk and encourages him to only sleep full. That will make a fat baby and will empty our stores of precious mom water.

I do worry about developing behaviors that we'll have to fight later on. If he would lose the stump, we'd have more options for exercise, and he can wear himself out that way. My trick now is to bundle him up and wander through the house. Within a half hours, he's usually out cold. But it does a number on my back. Carrying around nine pounds of hot infant is a toil. Doing this for nine months sounds abysmal.

I haven't heard anything about people going to roller derby. I think I'm flying solo. If so, I'm sitting on the floor near the rink.

The garden is exploding with tomatoes, requiring me to find more recipes to use them up. I don't want to be the guy who foists produce on the neighbors -- it smacks of ad planning -- but I don't want them to go to waste. maybe I can set up a curbside tomato juice stand.

Picture of the Day
Southern lights seen from the space station.

Chomp

Another day, another free meal. This was a giant salad with chicken, and we inhaled it as soon as the benefactor departed. She also delivered a bag of toys and a new baby bath with instructions to donate some items if they're unwanted. We sorted the toys that evening. We saved one electronic noise-maker, a stack of floppy book, and a maraca.

The boy handled the babysitter well, but his appetite has exploded. He slept last night only after a two-hour feeding session, and it knocked him out for almost six hours.

I investigated ceiling fans for the workshop which is now roasting since I fixed the wonky fluorescent. I think I figured the dimensions right to install a fan, and it will just miss clipping one of the lights. It will require some attic work, and I think I can handle that.

Picture of the Day
The strategies of Rock Paper Scissors.

Check Up

The Deputy is just fine, according to the doctor. He is in the 25-50 percentile for height, and he's gained two pounds in two weeks. The remaining umbilical stump is no cause for alarm, we were told, and it will fling itself to the ground at any time. He got a vaccine booster shot that left him groggy and cranky the rest of the day. We fed him a little earlier in the evening than normal and put him down, and I stayed up assuming he'd wake up before midnight. No. He slept for five hours, and I should have slept when he did. I am dead today.

We received another teacher meal, and it was fabulous. We inhaled it. The teacher came by with her two kids, and they were eager to see (and pet) the baby. My Mom asked me over the phone if our relatively happy experience with Your Nephew encouraged us to have another. My blunt answer made her laugh aloud. We may have changed our minds on having a child, but we won't reconsider having more than that. Every time we hang out with people who have more than one child, we're confident we can only handle the Deputy.

I spent the afternoon after the doctor's visit fixing a light in my workshop. It required two trips to the hardware store to buy a wire cutter, lamp clips, wire caps, and a light battery, which is confusingly called a ballast. I'm thinking of putting a ceiling fan in my workshop, and that will require more electrical homework.

Picture of the Day
Awesome costumes from last weekend's Comic Con.

Saying Little

Teacher buddies are using a message board to schedule who will bring us meals. It's a nice gesture, and sometimes it's a lifesaver. If Your Sister is dead dog tired, and I need to watch Your Nephew for a few hours, dinner might be whatever we find in the pantry. We planned for this. We bought some quick-heat meals. One was a Stouffer's lasagna that uses the sweet tomato sauce Your Sister despises. She mentioned that she prefers my recipe, and I noted that for a near-future meal. The garden has just delivered the first ripe tomatoes, and there are enough to make lasagna. I'll make it Monday evening after the baby's doctor visit.

But back to teacher meals. Another was dropped off Friday, and the teacher who provided it stayed for the meal and chat.

But first a confession: This teacher is a nice, friendly family man. I've met him. I like him. Still, he was alone with Your Sister when I got home, and that made me uncomfortable. I'm ashamed to say this. I trust her completely. I especially trust her completely when she's still gingerly walking. And yet, there it was: a flood of stupid feelings. I tried to counter them by remembering the times I was alone with someone's gal as she prepared a party or something and came up blank. I'm sure it's happened, but I can't remember. Still, I'm confident I did the same as he and was likewise a gentleman. I think maturity is a crafted filter that checks our dumbest thoughts and actions, and I chalk up my silence on the matter to whatever I have that approximates maturity.

Anyway, we all had a great talk about past jobs and art and Washington DC attractions. We drank Newcastle. He brought cupcakes. But he also brought quiche, a dish I don't enjoy because it is spinach and eggs. Never my favorite ingredients. But as we've done whenever someone has taken the time to prepare and deliver a meal, I ate it with a smile. Again, my pseudo-maturity was put to work.

Your Sister went out Saturday night to see a local musical, and I watched the Deputy. He slept most of the time. I spent the afternoon researching fluorescent lighting. One light in my workshop is wonky, and I hoped it would be an easy fix. It is, if you know how these lights work, and I didn't. But after reverse-engineering the wiring and talking to a guy at Lowe's (countering the bad experience with that store over the new dryer), I think I know how to fix it, and it will involve only a little scary electrical work. I hope to have it done by the weekend.

I've put out invites for roller derby without telling anyone about the contest. I'd like to have small posse hang out for the bout (And watch me win? Yes. See, it's only pseudo-maturity.).

We took him out again for groceries and lunch and he stayed comatose for it all. We have gonna up a size in diapers and onesies, but he appears to be a small boy. Maybe he takes after Your Mother's family.

Picture of the Day
I found deputy clothing at Gymboree, but I won't buy them. I don't want to brand the child with a gimmick. The nickname is good enough.

Victory

I won the derby logo contest. I just got the email. I am ecstatic. And relieved. I put some hours into that thing.

They want to tweak it a tad to guarantee reproduction, and that's fine. I'll meet with the team's artist-player after next week's bout, and we'll schedule a time. But that bout will feature the unveiling of the logo as it stands now for the whole town to see.

I don't know if I should say something on FB yet or not. I wanted to take friends with me, and I think I'd like to keep them in the dark until the logo flashes on the big screen/scoreboard.

But, for now, I do the Snoopy dance of joy.

An Excuse to Post Videos

why yes, that's the moro reflex when infants throw out their arms as if to catch hold of something when they feel as if their falling. a pediatrician at the hospital here calls it the monkey reflex.

I'm shattered. I thought I had invented something. A maneuver, maybe. And that reminds me ...

I continue to work in the garden. I bought new stakes to which I lashed tomato plants. I also picked squash and peppers. The squashes are quite huge, and I don't know how that happened. Also, the pepper plants are twice the height of last year's. I don't think I changed the fertilizer or compost ratios that much.

The success isn't universal in my patch; there is one lone lettuce sprout out there, and the carrots could be nuggets as far as I can tell. I worked the garden while listening to Gogol Bordello. Some friends of mine love them, and I downloaded an NPR Tiny Desk Concert of them, and I liked it. They're a "gypsy punk band."

Much pruning ensued.

The evenings have settled into a definite routine. We eat supper and snack before Your Sister soaks in the tub. Years of advocacy have finally convinced her to read in the bath, and I encourage her to vanish for as long she wants. The deputy wakes up around 10, and I feed him a grande bottle of mama water while watching cooking shows.

Food Network recently spun off a channel devoted to actual cooking; the original channel is focused on game-show programming -- who can launch a restaurant overnight, who will get their own show, who can make a theme cake in eight hours -- and I just want to watch people talk and chop. Thankfully, the new channel also has the original Iron Chef. Yes, it's a game show, but it's an awesome game show in Japanese and French. I feed and watch, and Your Sister reemerges from her own soup to pump milk before we go to bed.

I'm very eager for her to go hang out with people Saturday night. I am also starting to get anxious about the derby logo. I've heard nothing. It looks like they'll tell no one beforehand what to expect before they unveil the winning entry next Saturday. This weekend is Bele Chere, and I will happily avoid all that fuss.

All Is Well

The child yet lives so yesterday was a success. According to our continuing journal (yes, the same notepad from the labor weekend) , he was fed hourly while we were away. That's a bit much, but he doesn't seem adversely affected. Your Mom sent me an email later in the day suggesting my morning crankiness was due to my concerns of being a good dad. And maybe so. They'll visit again Friday before their trip. I'll be at work.

I think we're gonna have to cut the stump off. I hope it's gone before we see the doctor Monday. It would be embarrassing. Among his few activities is staring out windows and a game I call Freefall. I grab his hands and hold them in front of him at his arms' length. After three seconds, I let go. Every time, he throws his arms wide open and waves them around. It distracts him from crying sometimes.

Picture of the Day
ComicCon, the nation's biggest pop-culture convention, starts tomorrow. It started as a comic show and has since ballooned into a massive festival that's mandatory for marketing genre movies and TV shows. Behold the San Diego Hilton:


Your Sister and I considered attending the Atlanta convention again this year, but the deputy's too young for that. Maybe next year. And he'll be in costume too.

A Polite Venting

Your Mom is watching the boy this morning, and she's keeping her distance from me. She got the hint Saturday that I'm not happy with her managerial skills. Oh, I have no concerns about her watching the boy; I'm sure she'll do fine with him. But what cranks me up is when she asks us how we handle something -- milk management, bottle sterilization, etc -- and immediately suggests how to do it differently.

We know we're new at this. We know she handled three kids, often on her own. I'm not questioning her maternal bona fides. What I bristle at is this:

Me: We do it like this.
Her: OK. But, you know, what about if I do it like that?
Me: We do it like this. This works.
Her: OK. Good. Right. Or you know I could do it like this and such.
Me: [grinds teeth]

I'm sure my wiring is to blame. But when I'm asked my preference and then steered away from it, it's hard not be insulted. My preferences aren't based on thoughtless whim. I put some brain toil into it. There's a reason I or we do things the way we do. She wants to help. And she is. But being helpful also means maintaining procedures, not trying to improve all of them. I'll say no more. Except that her babysitting is very convenient today.

Picture of the Day
Promo images are popping up online for the next big Marvel movie, Thor. The throne room of Thor's dad Odin looks apporpriately extravagant. Thor is Marvel's fantasy superhero franchise, the rare epic setting distinct from the dozens of other city-bound hero titles. What pleases me here is the inclusion of Odin's ravens on the throne. That's a detail I appreciate.

Slow Growth

Your Parents came over Saturday to officially visit with the deputy before their vacation. Your Mom will sit with him tomorrow while Your Sister goes to a school meeting. Even though she is not teaching this year, she still organizes the statewide teacher workshop materials on behalf of the district.

To test the deputy's resolve, we took him to two restaurants yesterday in addition to his second trip to the grocery store. he slept through virtually all of it, and I wore the papoose for the grocery trip. Our weekly trip to Starbucks may have backfired; he seemed wired later that day. We weighed the risk of passing along caffeine and noted that he wasn't more awake than normal. But he flailed more when he was awake. And it was flailing, not random baby movements. I gardened Saturday morning and used my own caffeinated antsiness for a short run. Minding a baby and schlepping his equipment is a decent workout.

He may be developing happiness. He seems to smile now, and we think he's laughing at funny faces. A personality could be on display here. His belly stump remains, but it's looking like it might fall off any time. It's withering.

When I'm not hovering over the manchild, I'm plowing through new comic readings. A neighbor lent me his copy of a gigantic Dickens biography, and I'll start that as soon as I finish this Japanese comic series I discovered recently. It's a true Japanese comic, not merely a comic made in that style. You have to read if from right to left and everything. Your Sister assures me I'm pulling my weight, and I continue to wonder about that. I printed out the photos she picked for the grandparents' baby books, and I think that qualifies as specialized baby duty along the lines of her nursing activities. We've got about four trays of milk in the freezer now, and I'll probably use some of that this weekend as she goes out with friends.

The house has a new balance to it as we're down a cat, but it feels comfortable. I almost prefer it this way. He's becoming more interested in the baby each day.

Picture of the Day
James Bond Boba Fett

Rough Night

Kathy and Travis visited us in shifts last night. She brought a chicken dinner and hung out while he watched their kids at home. Then they switched. He was invited for cigars and beer, and chairs were set up on the deck for us. He declined a cigar when he arrived, so I smoked while he drank. And much shit shooting ensued. That will be my last cigar for a good while; I'm smoked out.

The boy skunked both of us last night by rousing us with noises and then falling back to sleep. I woke up just after midnight to his cooing noises, usually a warning that he's about to go full wail. I sat up with him for more than two hours before he fully awoke to drink. I caught up on late-night TV, including Craig Ferguson, NBC's poker show, and some House, before putting him to bed right before 3 a.m. Your Sister got out of bed in reply to his noises at 4, and he didn't wake up until 6. We are dragging this morning. He, on the other hand, has learned how to smile and stay awake.

She hasn't filled me in on the vet visit, but she did clear away all the items of the girl cat. The other cat knows something's up, and he seems lonely. I know we'll get a new cat before the end of the year. I think we decided last year to maintain a two-cat home.

Picture of the Day
Whee.

Rough Morning

Your Sister decided it was time to put down the younger cat (the girl, the one with the tail) this morning. She was eating less and refusing her medicine. It was becoming increasingly difficult to get her settled, and it appeared she had found a place to hide and fade away. Your Sister made an appointment for this morning and took the cat while I stayed home and watched the deputy. She returned about an hour later with an empty cat carrier.

Even though we knew this was coming, it's hitting Your Sister hard. The boy is a good distraction. She hasn't told me the details yet. I'll hear about it this evening. We may have friends coming by to deliver a meal, and that will help her get through the day too. I might have another cigar with the husband of the couple to amuse her.

Light 'Em Up

I have new lenses in my old frames. I can now see through dimensions. This new clarity is a little nauseous making. I may have to increase my monitor resolutions to shrink the type. It all looks enormous today.

I wish the daily activities could be made more interesting, but we have a distinct pattern these days. When I got home, Your Sis asked immediately if we could take a walk. Out we walked. The baby is a lady magnet; a passer-by turned around to peek into the stroller. I'm pretty sure it was the wife of an actor from two of my recent plays. I was also stopped this weekend by a motorist I didn't recognize. It was only when I saw his car parked next door that I realized he was my neighbor, the trooper who saved my bacon during the first bad snowstorm. I am dumb. This cannot be blamed on a lack of sleep. I'm not missing that much compared to her. She gets up more often because she has to pump anyway, and she argues she might as well feed the baby. I will have to pull my weight in other ways.

After a meal of leftovers eaten hurriedly between baby feedings, I cracked open a box of cigars. A coworker gave them to me yesterday on my return to the office. I hadn't smoked anything for years, and I never smoked a cigar. Your Sister has never smoked period. I walked her through it, and we posed for pictures. I hadn't realized how much of a chore it is to smoke a whole cigar. My brain never connected the relative girth of a stogie to a cigarette and the effort required to go through one quickly. We didn't finish ours. They are now in the compost bucket waiting to soon spoil our already coffee-addled compost worms. Maybe my twinges of nausea are a cigar hangover.

We continue to get lots and lots and lots of free formula mixes, and we add each new parcel to the formula ziggurat in the nursery.

Picture of the Day
Early German battlefield communications. They put their faith on backpack dreamcatchers and wonder why they lost two wars.