Thanksgiving Gift to Self

Having suffered with a substandard Graco jogging stroller over the past three and a half years that ultimately ground my running hobby into the near nothingness, I finally went for it and indulged. Via the beauty of online shopping, I was able to find this beauty for one hundred dollars less than I've seen it anywhere else, with free shipping (and no tax, of course). It felt like even more of a steal when I noticed the company raised the price by sixty bucks the day after I bought it.

The stroller is made by BabyJogger, which is one of the premier names in the jogging stroller business, along with B.O.B and Chariot (all sold at REI). They are intended for "avid runners," so I'm excited about the thing being built to last, as well as its ability to tackle some very light trail duty. Using this vehicle will be an almost absolute necessity, if I plan to train this spring for PMix's & my run across Massachusetts.

Hmm...I was just going to leave it at that. Perhaps it's wisdom that comes with age, but I feel the need to mention that Mix has not yet agreed to do the run. My idea of humour; to put him on the spot. But knowing my good friend, such an act may well have pushed him off the fence and into the yard of refusal, and I certainly don't want it to "go down that way." If he did decide that his heart burned with fire and he'd like to get out there and live an adventure, rather than just reading about them all the time, however; the stroller would come in mighty handy for my training.

In any event, I'm extremely excited to get my girls in this thing, though it's painful to wait through this beautiful 50 degree weather till Rose reaches the 6-week age minimum (after which time it will undoubtedly be too cold and I'll be resigned to waiting till spring).

Hope everyone else's Thanksgiving was as filled with blessings as my own. Toodle loo.

The End of an Era

* sigh *

And just like that, my two week paternity leave is over. Here I am, back forging helms and pulling Uruks out of the mud in the bowels of Barad-dur.

I can't say it was exactly as I imagined my time off, as I spent a good portion of last week "running interference" as a result of Lucy being home with the chicken pox. Nevertheless, what I have said before (and will undoubtedly say again) rings as true as ever: that could get to be a lifestyle. Not going to work. Holy crap. The dream of everyman, right? To spend my days and nights as I please.

But, alas, we had a "farewell to family togetherness" dine-out last night. I toasted to Rose. Sharon toasted to "big sisters," and Lucy (in an amazing exact repeat of her toast of a year ago), toasted "to London," with a followup toast "to monkeys."

Neither "When in Rome..." Nor "If You Can't Beat 'Em...", But in a Similar Vein

So I'm talking about a househusband who's cooped up at home because of a week-old child and another with The Pox. He just has to, you know, get out of the house, he's been looking after, you know, the kids from day to day, he's been washing the dishes, screwing around and watching Sesame Street and he's going CRAZY!

***

So unable to escape these walls for the past few days, I've really been hankering for a meal away from home. However, due to The Pox: no go.

So, in an act of ingenuity, desperation, or pure lunacy, I specifically set about to recreate a meal this evening from Rix. Gaze, if you will, upon the bounty on my table that includes a Cheese and Salsa Burger (partially eaten), Steak Fries, and a Summit India Pale Ale. Gone already is my Feta Cheese and Onion Salad with Mixed Spinach Greens (really, I had one, I swear!). And, lest you think that my current state has got me "pulling a Michael Jackson" over here, that's not my sippy cup.

So...bottoms up from northwest Minneapolis, and hope to talk to you again someday when I can Step Out beyond only in my dreams.

Lucy & Rose Compare/Contrast!

God Didn't Think We Had Enough Going On Here...

Lucy came down with the chicken pox over the weekend. Good God, but between diaper changes, other newborn-oriented interruptions and "Daddy, the bumps are stinging!"...well, let me simply say that a particular, oft-mentioned phrase at daybreak was never quite so apros-pos:

Yes.

Sisterly Love

I like how I phrased this in a communiqué to my theatre group: We need to temper Lucy's enthusiasm for caring for her little sister with concern for Rose's personal safety.

It is a juggling act, to be sure; with the assorted pins of temperment, need, and expediency all in the air at the same time. And while a strong wind of fatigue is blowing these first few days.

But moments like below are, as they say, "...all good."

Welcome to the World, Rose Alice Hylton!

Well...thanks to all the well-wishing in my previous post. As most of you know, things progressed unexpectedly fast Wednesday night after I got home. Sharon's mom came to get Lucy at around 7:30, Sharon was in active labor by 9:30 or so, out of her mind for a few hours, and then Little Chicky was delivered at 1:41 a.m.

Though very, very difficult & demanding during, it was Sharon's "dream birth." Unmedicated, uninvasive, and at the hospital for only the last 40 minutes of it (cutting it a bit short, to be sure). It was an amazing, intimate time for the two of us as a couple; and the time after the birth, with Sharon alert & ecstatic, was too amazing to put into words.

Rose is beautiful and of strong limb. She has a very pink little body and spiky brown hair. There are untold pictures from the delivery that are filled nudity & gore, & probably not quite ready for prime time. This one, of a tender moment between mama & daughter the morning after, I can share:

OK...Here We Go..

As it turns out, actual contractions did start last night and have continued through today. Very early labor here, and not painful (yet). I actually was in at work today, but am probably done there for awhile. We expect things to start progressing at some point tonight (but, of course, who really knows?).

Anyway, I will be an internaut with my tether cut over the next couple days, so do not expect a report until "it" has occurred. Stay tuned.

Raaaaaar!

One very nice thing about "events" not being set in motion yesterday was that we got to take Lucy out for her very first trick-or-treating experience. Four houses. This year has been soooo amazing, watching the wide-eyed wonder and excitement with which my daughter experiences all the amazing spices life has to offer.

From checking up at the sky a few times with her to see if any witches were flying around to watching her run (out of pure excitement) along the sidewalk with a candy bag and tiger tail flying behind her to watching her very methodically remove, count, and place in a line thirteen pieces of candy (her haul for the evening) and pick one to eat that night; it was fun beyond description.

False Alarm!

Without going too much into biology - female biology - I'll just leave it at that.

But the long & the short of it: no birth imminent. Good on many, many levels, as we still can hold out hope that the baby will be lower down and contractions will start before the water leaks or breaks.

Still looking at sometime in the next week/week and a half...

Here We Go...

warning: some discussion of biology - female biology - follows...

Sharon's water started leaking last night. It's what happened with Lucy and precisely what we wanted to avoid this time around. The legendary "water breaking" is something that can kick in contractions. With this slow trickle, however, that may well not happen. Did not last time, anyway. And with the baby still up quite high in the uterus, there's been no "thinning of the cervix;" the event that most often instigates labor.

So carry on for hours & days with the slow trickle until nature is ready to take it's course? Well & good, except that the entire "system" is now at risk for infection, so it is likely that the hospital will pressure us to induce labor within 24 hours. Which, last time, did not work very well and set in motion a series of medications and interventions that turned into about the worst 30 hours of both our lives. Hence; hiring of the doula this time around. It is our hope that, even if we end up having to make some decisions that aren't consistent with our idea of a "dream birth," we can have someone there making sure we're asking the right questions and not getting steamrolled.

Anyway...a bit of a ramble; but I needed to type through it...

We should have a baby within 36 hours...(or, please God, less....) Wish us luck.

Gentlemen...A Toast

...to the inventor of the mulching mower. We spent a good part of the weekend doing a lot of prep for the arrival of Chicky. From making sure the old bins of 0-6 month clothes were dug out & prepared, to packing a bag of Lucy clothes (were she to need to be whisked away suddenly to grandma & grandpa's house), to setting up an extra diaper changing station on level 2 of the house. Tons of odds & ends. Also-making sure leaf work was pretty much done for the year.

Now...down one and a half trees from a couple of years ago, we obviously are up against a much more modest collection of leaves than was once the case. But nevertheless, raking an entire yard is a task I have never loved. See here, how our wonderful new electric mower simplifies the process (while adding a healthy layer of mulch that will protect the yard this winter, and vitalize it in the spring). And...Good God, but this saved me a lot of time; time I could spend doing a lot of other shit that really should have been done a few weeks ago.

So three cheers for the inventor of this amazing, simple blockage of the grass chute! Sir, I am in your debt.

Getting Close to "Zero Hour"

Yesterday, actually, was the first day within that "2 week window' around the due date in which 90 some odd percent of all babies are born. So basically, it could happen at any time from here on out. Lucy was four days late, and would have been even later, had events not been put in motion by Sharon's water beginning to leak. But there's been a few physiological things going on that might indicate this baby is a little ahead of that schedule. Who really knows?

But it's insane to consider, as I look over at a new little "0-9 month" snowsuit spread out over a chair in the living room, that it will soon be filled with a little, living, breathing and beautiful human; however needy. For the first part of this Sharon's term; it was hard to concentrate on the upcoming baby; what with coming off such a stressful and busy year, and having my waking hours so dominated with care of my existing child. But I've definitely gotten way into it, the last couple of months; talking to "Little Chicky," making sure all those little pieces of our lives that need to be in order (from having enough infant clothes on hand, to digging out all of Lucy's old newborn toys, to talking endlessly with Lucy about being a big sister). There's a few little odds and ends that need taken care of yet, but we're basically there. And the sooner the better, at this point. In the last few days, Sharon's muscles have been ravaged by a mysterious soreness that feels like she did some huge amount of unusual activity. Like, to the point of barely being able to walk. It's undoubtedly related to the pregnancy, but both we and the midwives are stymied. It's put a bit of a strain on the smooth flow of keeping the house in order, as Sharon is relegated to pretty much laying on the couch, and I assuming almost all homemaking duties, as well as Lucy duty. I try not to miss an opportunity to remind Sharon that I'm in awe of what her body does (and, I suppose, most women throughout history), growing that little person in there and keeping them safe for 10 months. She's really "taking one for the team," as T-Clog might say, and I'm honored to have her as the mother of my child(soon to be "ren"). Hang in there, Sharon!

In the midst of all this, I took Friday off last week to spend, as I told Lucy, "our last daddy-daughter day with me only having one kid." It was great. She learned how to play checkers at the coffee shop, we headed over to the Minneapolis Institute of Arts (one of my absolute favorite places in The Cities) for awhile, and then had a lunch together. Despite the occasional challenges that being the daddy of a confident, self-assured (and occasionally, yes, stubborn) 3-year old entails; she's really an amazing little girl, and I can't get enough of her.

It Occurs to Me that It Is at Least Conceivable

That I am the only person in the world currently listening to this CD:

Bush's Thoughts on the Tet Offensive

Excerpted from a great NY Times story on how, for the first time since Viet Nam, the Democrats are on the offensive in terms of the military debate:

...When Mr. Stephanopoulos asked Mr. Bush whether the increasing violence in Iraq was similar to the Tet Offensive in 1968, the Vietnam War campaign that is often cited as turning American opinion against the war, Mr. Bush said such a comparison “could be right,” suggesting that terrorists were aiming for a similar result...

Hmm...maybe that NY Times reporter thought Bush was suggesting terrorists were aiming for a simialr result. To me, it sounds like the words of a man who has never heard of the Tet Offensive.

Comedy Without Soul?

I love, as has been documented it, King of the Hill and The Simpsons. Probably as a result of that, I've often wondered if the animation industry, particularly on some current cable stations to which I have do not have access, has passed me by. How many products of genius, not held hostage to formulae established by traditional family-based sitcoms, am I missing out on through the years? This was probably the impetus behind, after simply stumbling across it in Netflix, shooting Harvey Birdman up to the top of my queue based on the potential of the brilliant concept alone.

Well, I made it through the last of the six episodes last night, and was reminded of what I sort of discovered during my brief foray in to Family Guy: Gags, freedom from convention, and irreverance are great, but they can only carry you so far. Underlying King of the Hill and most seasons of The Simpsons was/is a soul. Something that unifies the individual scenes and ties them together with some sort of universal humanity. Not sure how else to say it, but that pure satire without this element is nothing more than a book of knock knock jokes, however clever. Watching Birdman, I laughed but I did not love.

That said, The Scooby Doo & Shaggy episode was really a hoot, and well worth seeing.

Keeping the Audience...Riveted

Last night's installment of our Reader's Theatre series was a show called 'Night, Mother, by playwrite Marsha Norman. It is our dramaturg's favorite script in the world and, seeing it performed live last night, I can see why.

An incredible two-woman story of a an adult daughter who announces to her mother (with whom she lives) that she will kill herself "tonight," it is nearly an hour and a half of tense, personal dialogue building to an inevitable conclusion that everyone watching is hoping the mother can somehow avert, but ultimately cannot. Heart-rending is an understatement and at the end, to use a chiche, "there was not a dry eye in the house." It was really quite incredible, and it actually resulted in our company getting our first "Standing O." Then over to Rix for drinks, thankfully. Anyway, read Valerie's great and (as always) uniquely insightful take on the performance here.

Powerful stuff, this theatre. I just get it now; the whole shared experience with the audience, the visceral reality of it all; so much more than I ever did in my acting as a youth.

Six Times Wonderful

Sharon & I just got back from a three day trip to the North Shore; a last chance for some uninterrupted quiet time as a couple before the arrival of Little Chicky. Not entirely by chance, we stayed at a bed and breakfast owned by Mixxy's mother-in-law. About five miles North of Tettegouche State Park and more or less right on Lake Superior. We had a view of the Lake from our room and great hot coffee & scones greeting us as we woke both mornings. (Of course, that didn't keep us from hitting the brunch buffet at the Northern Lights down the road a bit...)
Relaxing, reinvigorating, and wonderful.

On the way up, we had the opportunity to swing by Duluth's Hawk Ridge, which was resplendent in fall color (the first few pictures in the set below). We also happened to be there to witness a display and release of both a male & female Sharp Shinned Hawk. Very cool. Very beautiful up there at the windy heights a few hundred feet above town and the surface of the lake. Then on to the eventual destination. Night one included a meal at the Northern Lights. I ate too much, of course; but I also had the opportunity to imbibe Superior Brewery's Kayak Kolsch on tap. The next day, following coffee & scones, we set off on a leisurely exploration of the shoreline down from the b&b. Some rock scrambling, some rock hounding, and some rock sitting, while gazing out at the mighty, timeless waters of the world's biggest lake. This is the location the rest of the pictures in the set below were taken. Into Beaver Bay for the buffet, and then we headed to the back end of Tettegouche. Sharon is remarkably mobile for being 9-months pregnant, and we were actually able to go on a couple of hour hike up "Baldy Mountain" (yup, one in Tettegouche) and catch some great views of the Sawtooth Mountains and off to a distant Lake Superior. The weather was perfect the entire trip. Breezy and alternatingly sunny and overcast but always with the funkiest clouds up in the sky. All in all, one of those trips where there's no specific agenda but everything just kind of works out.

So...the pictures. We were extremely lucky in a couple of rare encounters; so make sure you keep careful watch, and you just may catch, amidst these images, the Elf of the Woods and the Elf of the Shore.

Two More Adventures

Adventure #1 (as told to PMix & Mighty already via phone-but delicious enough to recount, nearly verbatim):
We've been sitting around with an old spinet piano in our living room. Bad enough condition that we literally can't give it away (we've tried). Thus, we're left with seemingly the only option being the arranging of a large-enough vehicle, a couple of friends to help carry, and solid waste transfer station token in order to toss the thing. Just too much to arrange, with times being as busy as they are. Yesterday, the alternate option dawned on me: disassemble the thing into its smallest possible components and just toss the thing away in pieces. Three hours later and a pile of sawdust later, unfortunately, I was left with one "smallest piece" being a solid metal soundboard hopelessly fused against a solid wood back to the piano. About 5' x 4' x 8" and well over 200 lbs. An awkward carry, to say the least. Still too large for the trash guys to take, but a piece, at least, that I could get down into the basement and out of sight/mind for the time being. Well, I huffed and puffed and dragged and (after some creative use of a circular saw) angled the thing out of my living room, through the kitchen, and to the top of my basement stairs. Fuck me. How am I going to slide this thing down the stairs without it crushing me? I heaved to, tilted the one end back, and the thing came sliding at me like a sled of bricks, hitting me in the chest and knocking me back and down one step. But I didn't lose it. I just planted my left foot and caught it. Feeling suddenly hopped up and energized, I actually pushed it back up a stair, just to prove my mastery, then forcibly worked it the rest of the way down the rest of the stairs stairs to the bottom. By that time, I was absolutely wild and the soundboard was bitch and I fairly tossed it into the corner of the basement, letting out a howl. This experience was followed with a well-earned Oktoberfest.

Adventure #2:
My promised followup visit to the doctor for my pinkie (see ...Show Must Go On...) was at an Orthopedic clinic in the south metro. While sitting around waiting for an xray, I started noticing a few guys walking around who, by appearance, just screamed "pro athlete." Then I saw a guy I thought just might be Trenton Hassell going into the restroom. Then some trainer-looking guy with a Minnesota Timberwolves polo on. Then Kevin Garnett. A gaggle of nurses was brining him over to the height-measuring thing (no lie), while he was yacking away, not seven feet from me. I said, "Hey, KG-I'll never run into you again. Can I shake your hand?" to which he obliged. Kind of wild. Had I sat around in a waiting room with him for ten minutes or so, I might have chanced to tell him about how at 24 years old, I considered sending him a letter asking if I could be his butler. But alas, I figure KG probably has to sit around in a waiting room about as often as I win MVP of the NBA All-Star Game.