Monday, February 28, 2005
More has been revealed...and her name is Lindsay
On Feb. 24, at 11:14 a.m. Pacific Standard Time, in room 17 of the labor & delivery section of Alta Bates Hospital in Berkeley, Calif., Miss Lindsay Campbell Taggart joined the world. She's gorgeous, she's funny already, she's everything we could have hoped for...and she's finally here!
I'm determined to record thoughts and observations about the birth and the first days of Lindsay's life, but my ass is kicked right now. I should get about 94 minutes of sleep before the next round of breast feeding commences. Not that I'm as important a piece in that puzzle as mother and daughter, but I do play a vital role: official baby waker (breast milk is utterly intoxicating to a 4-day-old) and diaper changer (this role is combined because doing the latter accomplisheds the former).
Plenty of joyous and exhilirating moments already...and many more of the quiet moments too...the ones that strike you dumb with the love you feel for this little creature and with the complete beauty and peace and trust displayed in that sleeping little face.
Nicola -- you have once again overwhelmed with your strength and the inner glow that shines from your soul and makes everyone you meet the luckier for it. Lindsay is blessed to have you as her mother, and I'm in awe of you. Thank you for going through this experience with me and for giving us another daughter to love and fawn over and teach about root beer floats and the importance of rainbow sprinkles.
I'm determined to record thoughts and observations about the birth and the first days of Lindsay's life, but my ass is kicked right now. I should get about 94 minutes of sleep before the next round of breast feeding commences. Not that I'm as important a piece in that puzzle as mother and daughter, but I do play a vital role: official baby waker (breast milk is utterly intoxicating to a 4-day-old) and diaper changer (this role is combined because doing the latter accomplisheds the former).
Plenty of joyous and exhilirating moments already...and many more of the quiet moments too...the ones that strike you dumb with the love you feel for this little creature and with the complete beauty and peace and trust displayed in that sleeping little face.
Nicola -- you have once again overwhelmed with your strength and the inner glow that shines from your soul and makes everyone you meet the luckier for it. Lindsay is blessed to have you as her mother, and I'm in awe of you. Thank you for going through this experience with me and for giving us another daughter to love and fawn over and teach about root beer floats and the importance of rainbow sprinkles.
Tuesday, February 22, 2005
Weather or not
No, no baby yet.
Today I was enjoying the break from all the rain we've had (including a biblical deluge yesterday afternoon as we were driving back from Jack London square -- cars tossing waves of water over other cars, mini-ponds at the intersections etc.). I sat on a bench out by the cable car turnaround and read my SI and pondered the tourists. The sun felt so good...I'm wondering if I could actually move back to Portland, as Nicola and I have recently discussed. The rain can be discouraging and bothersome and, in the Pacific Northwest, oppressive and depressing. 270 overcast days a year can get to you...although perhaps only if you think about it. It never really bothered me when I lived in Portland for seven years. The rain is something you become accustomed to up there, and it doesn't stop you from doing your normal activities. Maybe it was easier to move there in 1996, when I didn't know squat about the city and even less about the weather there. I recall it being kind of nice the 2 days we were there in March (April?) 1996, before we decided to move there. What a random serious of events led me to Portland, which led me here. Not exactly how I thought things would turn out, but I sure do love how they did turn out.
But now I know the weather there is rainy, and compared to the weather in Alameda -- San Diego-like, 60 and 70s most of the year with more sunny days than not, not a rain drop in site from May to October -- man, that's hard to beat. But on the other other hand, I'm not particularly in favor of really hot weather either, because I'm not, um, built for skimpy clothes. Not that I'd wear something skimpy, but there is safety in layers.
Ultimately, the weather may or may not play a role in an eventual decision to move back to Portland. We do really like it here, and we are just starting to develop a nice core of friends. My job is great. The weather is great. And, of course, the whole reason we are here -- proximity to Ella. I think we're unlikely to seriously consider a move for 10 years or so, when Ella was in high school and getting close to college age. Who knows what will happen between now and then. The Oregon draw is primarily proximity to Nicola's family, and I love Portland for a lot of intangible reasons. Oh, and then there's the housing prices in the Bay Area, to which the word "obscene" doesn't do justice. We are resigned -- and trying to actually be OK -- with renting for the short term and perhaps longer, particularly as we get our finances together.
Any decision is a long way off, but it's interesting to think about.
Today I was enjoying the break from all the rain we've had (including a biblical deluge yesterday afternoon as we were driving back from Jack London square -- cars tossing waves of water over other cars, mini-ponds at the intersections etc.). I sat on a bench out by the cable car turnaround and read my SI and pondered the tourists. The sun felt so good...I'm wondering if I could actually move back to Portland, as Nicola and I have recently discussed. The rain can be discouraging and bothersome and, in the Pacific Northwest, oppressive and depressing. 270 overcast days a year can get to you...although perhaps only if you think about it. It never really bothered me when I lived in Portland for seven years. The rain is something you become accustomed to up there, and it doesn't stop you from doing your normal activities. Maybe it was easier to move there in 1996, when I didn't know squat about the city and even less about the weather there. I recall it being kind of nice the 2 days we were there in March (April?) 1996, before we decided to move there. What a random serious of events led me to Portland, which led me here. Not exactly how I thought things would turn out, but I sure do love how they did turn out.
But now I know the weather there is rainy, and compared to the weather in Alameda -- San Diego-like, 60 and 70s most of the year with more sunny days than not, not a rain drop in site from May to October -- man, that's hard to beat. But on the other other hand, I'm not particularly in favor of really hot weather either, because I'm not, um, built for skimpy clothes. Not that I'd wear something skimpy, but there is safety in layers.
Ultimately, the weather may or may not play a role in an eventual decision to move back to Portland. We do really like it here, and we are just starting to develop a nice core of friends. My job is great. The weather is great. And, of course, the whole reason we are here -- proximity to Ella. I think we're unlikely to seriously consider a move for 10 years or so, when Ella was in high school and getting close to college age. Who knows what will happen between now and then. The Oregon draw is primarily proximity to Nicola's family, and I love Portland for a lot of intangible reasons. Oh, and then there's the housing prices in the Bay Area, to which the word "obscene" doesn't do justice. We are resigned -- and trying to actually be OK -- with renting for the short term and perhaps longer, particularly as we get our finances together.
Any decision is a long way off, but it's interesting to think about.
Monday, February 21, 2005
How'd you get so smart?
One of the things I hope I pass along to my children is my fondness for reading. That sounds a little gay (in the seventh grade sense), but it's true -- reading has brought and continues to bring such joy to my life. And I'm talking about reading for pure enjoyment, most of the time...not reading to check off a list of the classics and the "must reads"...although there are times I do that too, I guess. Most of the time, however, I pick books based on a desire to be entertained and/or learn something. With those goals in mind (subconsciously?), I read a lot of nonfiction. Latest: "Blue Blood" by Edward Conlon, about his life on the NYPD. And "My Losing Season" by Pat Conroy about his time on the Citadel basketball team. A little grim, particularly the second one, but enjoyable.
Who am writing this too? Why do I feel like this blog has turned into an archive or a recap or something?
Jeez. Anyway, the reading thing came to mind today as I was watching Ella read a book to Nicola. At age 4, she is the only one in her class reading, and I try not to puff out my chest too much as I proclaim this. Damn, my kid is smart! But I knew that. The brain is so incredible -- to watch it grow and develop and morph inside this little body. She sits there, and as she turns to a new page and scans the pictures to get the context, then tackles the words. I don't think the process is quite this conscious, but it's cool to watch. I'm so proud of her! And I'd like to claim some of the brain credit for this side of the family. I've always been confident in my intelligence...although I think I've coasted a bit on the belief that my smarts would carry me through in the end. In fifth grade at Little Elementary in Arvada, Colo., Mr. Rold -- a 1950s throwback with brill-creamed hair and dark-rimmed glass -- sat in the class in order of how smart he judged them. Yes, informal class rankings in fifth grade. No soft handling of the 10-year-old self-esteem for Mr. Rold. Where did I sit? First seat, first row. Top dog, if you will. And I never have really felt like I deserved that -- I mean, shortly after we sat in this arrangement, we had some history project to do, and I threw together (at the last minute) the sorriest excuse for a diorama of the Alamo or something...inside a large Scott paper goods box (the kind we used to get each Xmas from my Mom's Aunt Minnie before some trivial family slight caused her to stop sending the toilet paper and party napkins, not to mention my $5 birthday check). I may or may not have used army men. And if memory serves, Mr. Rold videotaped these class presentations. I will never seek public office, for fear that the video of my toilet paper box Alamo, circa 1979, will be dredged up. I don't really remember much else about fifth grade. Was that when I had my first crush, on a girl named Sheri (Shari) who had a bizarre way of writing the letter "s"...which I subsequently copied slavishly to impress her? Another public office problem -- the letter "s" in my handwriting of this period has an odd straight top to it...vaguely "SS" like if one were to take it totally the wrong way. And me with a Jewish daughter! She's confused enough, what with the "Little People Nativity Scene" we were given at Christmas. I'm not sure whether to set up the manger or look for a firetruck or talking farm for them to play in.
I went far afield from books...but I have always loved reading, and picking out books for Ella now is so fun, because I run across these ones that have such strong childhood memories for me:
Who am writing this too? Why do I feel like this blog has turned into an archive or a recap or something?
Jeez. Anyway, the reading thing came to mind today as I was watching Ella read a book to Nicola. At age 4, she is the only one in her class reading, and I try not to puff out my chest too much as I proclaim this. Damn, my kid is smart! But I knew that. The brain is so incredible -- to watch it grow and develop and morph inside this little body. She sits there, and as she turns to a new page and scans the pictures to get the context, then tackles the words. I don't think the process is quite this conscious, but it's cool to watch. I'm so proud of her! And I'd like to claim some of the brain credit for this side of the family. I've always been confident in my intelligence...although I think I've coasted a bit on the belief that my smarts would carry me through in the end. In fifth grade at Little Elementary in Arvada, Colo., Mr. Rold -- a 1950s throwback with brill-creamed hair and dark-rimmed glass -- sat in the class in order of how smart he judged them. Yes, informal class rankings in fifth grade. No soft handling of the 10-year-old self-esteem for Mr. Rold. Where did I sit? First seat, first row. Top dog, if you will. And I never have really felt like I deserved that -- I mean, shortly after we sat in this arrangement, we had some history project to do, and I threw together (at the last minute) the sorriest excuse for a diorama of the Alamo or something...inside a large Scott paper goods box (the kind we used to get each Xmas from my Mom's Aunt Minnie before some trivial family slight caused her to stop sending the toilet paper and party napkins, not to mention my $5 birthday check). I may or may not have used army men. And if memory serves, Mr. Rold videotaped these class presentations. I will never seek public office, for fear that the video of my toilet paper box Alamo, circa 1979, will be dredged up. I don't really remember much else about fifth grade. Was that when I had my first crush, on a girl named Sheri (Shari) who had a bizarre way of writing the letter "s"...which I subsequently copied slavishly to impress her? Another public office problem -- the letter "s" in my handwriting of this period has an odd straight top to it...vaguely "SS" like if one were to take it totally the wrong way. And me with a Jewish daughter! She's confused enough, what with the "Little People Nativity Scene" we were given at Christmas. I'm not sure whether to set up the manger or look for a firetruck or talking farm for them to play in.
I went far afield from books...but I have always loved reading, and picking out books for Ella now is so fun, because I run across these ones that have such strong childhood memories for me:
- "Mike Mulligan and his Steam Shovel"
- "Where the Wild Things Are"
- "Go Dog Go"
- "Harry the Dirty Dog"
We went to a bookstore today to find a book for Ella to give to her classroom on her upcoming birthday, and I swear I could spend $50 easy every time I walk in a bookstore. Maybe $100 -- $50 on me, $50 on Ella. And Nicola -- she's almost as bad. So despite our recent come-to-jesus on the budget, we dropped $42 -- on Ella's birthday book, on "Dry" which we both want to read, and on a new book for the baby that Ella picked out. I have rediscovered the library and am trying to focus my reading energy there.
I can't wait until Ella gets to some of the books I went nuts over in elementary school: the Great Brain series, Hardy Boys, the Littles, Gentle Ben (I swear I read this 20 times; it may be the only reason I know that a "seine" is a type of net used to catch salmon...isnt' it?). I should get out the box of old books from the garage soon and check out what's in there. Maybe some that Ella will be ready for before too long. I recently read her the personalized alligator book that my grandmother gave me when I was little -- 5 maybe, Billy Taggart of 49 Dean Road, Wayland, Mass. With friends Phil Aberbach (who lived next door) and Kathy (sister).
This entry feels more like what I'm trying to do -- a mixture of observation and recollection, with a somewhat sideways glance. My brain just isn't trained yet to watch for the moments that spark such a gush of words and memories.
No baby yet...obviously. I won't go into what Michelle said tonight, with a very negative tone, about "looks like maybe they (the baby and Ella) will be sharing a birthday." God -- so fucking negative. The odds are still against it, but so what? Ella doesn't seem to care, and I've given her every chance to express her feelings on this. Michelle is entitled to her opinion...but why say it front of Ella? Why put that negative emotion in her head? Things with the ex could be so much worse, I must remind myself. And dump the anger and focus on the positive: happy healthy wife, baby, household.
Sunday, February 20, 2005
Disappointment
I suppose being disappointed about the delayed birth of our daugther is normal...but perhaps we don't deserve much sympathy, as the due date is tomorrow. She's not even late, and we're disappointed that she's late! I will choose not to read anything into this and how it might predict our level of patience and understanding during her toddler or teenage years.
I guess we were both just sure that Lindsay (?) would be here by now, and I think we (more me?) have a small complex as the calendar creeps toward Feb. 27, which is Ella's birthday. She's not expressed any problem with having her little sister have a birthday near hers. In fact, we were talking today about seeing Ella this Thursday and doing our little birthday celebration then, and how that could be impacted by the baby's arrival. I said something like, "Maybe the baby won't be here, but maybe she will be," and Ella replied, "Which would make it even more special!" So we are putting our baggage on the close birthday thing -- it doesn't seem to be an issue to Ella (yet). She does seem sad and a bit disappointed that her little sister isn't here yet. In trying to keep her involved and share our excitement, we may have raised her hopes that this was the big weekend. And her being here with us made it all the more appealing a possibility for her, I think. So ever since she woke up from a short, late nap, she's been out of sorts -- "I miss mommy," random tears, not falling asleep for hours once she's in bed. In short...totally normal behavior for a near 5-year-old, but abnormal for our Ella, the Little Rock Star Child. I really struggle at times when she is sad or funky or off...because that just isn't her, in my mind. But that is part of her, and I have to let her experience her emotions and let her learn to deal with them. Again: focus on what is your own bullshit, and don't make up stuff that you think is hers.
Even my desire to have more time with Ella...is that driven by what's best for her, what's best for me, what's a principled stand against Michelle...or some combo of these? I keep banging my head against the wall with Michelle, who refuses to even consider having Ella stay over her on the off Thursdays. Completely irrational, in my mind. But my relationship with Ella does not hinge on that one night, nor does the present defeat on this mean I won't gain ground down the road. Focus on the long term...choose your battles...but stand your ground too. Don't let the guilt-laden vitriol that Michelle likes to dish when she's challenged convince you don't deserve the best possible relationship with Ella. I deserve that, and Ella deserves and needs that.
I am so grateful for the love and bond between Nicola and Ella. There have been unbelievable moments this weekend: Nicola brushing Ella's hair in the bathrrom as Ella faced her tummy and planted kiss after kiss on the pregnant belly; Nicola resting in bed this morning, and Ella and I go to check on her, and Ella climbs up next to her and leans up against her shoulder and touches the belly (I got tears in my eyes). There is a true connection between those two that just warms my heart...I have a lot to give to Ella, but the love and warmth in this house that she feels is filled out and completed by Nicola. We are a family.
And, dear Lindsay (?), welcome to the family. We're waiting for you, and we've already made room in our hearts.
(My favorite vignette today: Ella in pink skort, striped shirt, pink sweatsuit jacket and green frog rain boots, running through the outdoor mall in Alameda in desperate search of a puddle to jump in. She was so cute today, and such a big help with groceries and stuff around the house. Amazing.)
Got to learn to post some pictures here -- the pregnant belly is not to be believed! So low and...oblong now...jutting straight out.
Off work tomorrow for President's Day. Is a trip to the hospital in the cards? I am guessing...no. My new date is Feb. 23. But tomorrow would be OK too!
I guess we were both just sure that Lindsay (?) would be here by now, and I think we (more me?) have a small complex as the calendar creeps toward Feb. 27, which is Ella's birthday. She's not expressed any problem with having her little sister have a birthday near hers. In fact, we were talking today about seeing Ella this Thursday and doing our little birthday celebration then, and how that could be impacted by the baby's arrival. I said something like, "Maybe the baby won't be here, but maybe she will be," and Ella replied, "Which would make it even more special!" So we are putting our baggage on the close birthday thing -- it doesn't seem to be an issue to Ella (yet). She does seem sad and a bit disappointed that her little sister isn't here yet. In trying to keep her involved and share our excitement, we may have raised her hopes that this was the big weekend. And her being here with us made it all the more appealing a possibility for her, I think. So ever since she woke up from a short, late nap, she's been out of sorts -- "I miss mommy," random tears, not falling asleep for hours once she's in bed. In short...totally normal behavior for a near 5-year-old, but abnormal for our Ella, the Little Rock Star Child. I really struggle at times when she is sad or funky or off...because that just isn't her, in my mind. But that is part of her, and I have to let her experience her emotions and let her learn to deal with them. Again: focus on what is your own bullshit, and don't make up stuff that you think is hers.
Even my desire to have more time with Ella...is that driven by what's best for her, what's best for me, what's a principled stand against Michelle...or some combo of these? I keep banging my head against the wall with Michelle, who refuses to even consider having Ella stay over her on the off Thursdays. Completely irrational, in my mind. But my relationship with Ella does not hinge on that one night, nor does the present defeat on this mean I won't gain ground down the road. Focus on the long term...choose your battles...but stand your ground too. Don't let the guilt-laden vitriol that Michelle likes to dish when she's challenged convince you don't deserve the best possible relationship with Ella. I deserve that, and Ella deserves and needs that.
I am so grateful for the love and bond between Nicola and Ella. There have been unbelievable moments this weekend: Nicola brushing Ella's hair in the bathrrom as Ella faced her tummy and planted kiss after kiss on the pregnant belly; Nicola resting in bed this morning, and Ella and I go to check on her, and Ella climbs up next to her and leans up against her shoulder and touches the belly (I got tears in my eyes). There is a true connection between those two that just warms my heart...I have a lot to give to Ella, but the love and warmth in this house that she feels is filled out and completed by Nicola. We are a family.
And, dear Lindsay (?), welcome to the family. We're waiting for you, and we've already made room in our hearts.
(My favorite vignette today: Ella in pink skort, striped shirt, pink sweatsuit jacket and green frog rain boots, running through the outdoor mall in Alameda in desperate search of a puddle to jump in. She was so cute today, and such a big help with groceries and stuff around the house. Amazing.)
Got to learn to post some pictures here -- the pregnant belly is not to be believed! So low and...oblong now...jutting straight out.
Off work tomorrow for President's Day. Is a trip to the hospital in the cards? I am guessing...no. My new date is Feb. 23. But tomorrow would be OK too!
Saturday, February 19, 2005
The waiting is the hardest part
Due date is today, or either we're t-minus two to the due date...either way, we are tired of waiting! I mean, I know the part after this -- that would be the actually taking care of a baby -- is exhausting and challenging, and we should be enjoying our time before that, but still, we are ready. Nicola is about fed up with being pregnant, and I'm not sure what to do to help calm her anxiety, except to tell her it will be over soon. Instead of the negative "God, we're tired of being pregnant" thing, how about a positive perspective -- "We can't wait to meet our new daughter." Another one just like Ella would be great, thanks. Ella is truly delightful -- what fun we had today walking Bailey around the block and splashing in rain puddles. To see her in her pink sweat suit, green frog boots and yellow rain slicker -- so adorable. She's just the best.
So Lindsay, come on out! Your big sister and your mom and dad are ready to see you!
Not much to discuss other than that...work was nuts this week with the Web site launch and a board meeting, but now that I'm past that hurdle, it's all about the baby. Oh, and my mini obsession with getting an I-Pod Shuffle. I've found a buyer for the Boise tickets who will pay me enough extra money to get one! Yeah, I know...new baby, new digital music player. Really similar in terms of importance.
So Lindsay, come on out! Your big sister and your mom and dad are ready to see you!
Not much to discuss other than that...work was nuts this week with the Web site launch and a board meeting, but now that I'm past that hurdle, it's all about the baby. Oh, and my mini obsession with getting an I-Pod Shuffle. I've found a buyer for the Boise tickets who will pay me enough extra money to get one! Yeah, I know...new baby, new digital music player. Really similar in terms of importance.
Wednesday, February 16, 2005
This is the weekend (?)
"I wouldn't be surprised if it happened this weekend." -- Dr. Carper, during today's appointment, referring to the birth of our new little girl.
Well, on the one hand, no duh. The due date is either Feb. 19 or Feb. 21, so this weekend for the arrival -- that's a pretty safe bet. On the other hand, hearing him say that sure made my stomach due a somersault. Not quite as bad as Monday night, when I got off the phone and Nicola says "I've had a few contractions." That threw me for a loop -- you say you are ready, but when it starts, all the planning and thinking and everything goes right out the window. So Monday, when I thought it was starting...I was excited and anxious and emotional. And then it was nothing.
So I'll just plan for this weekend, and man, is Ella excited. I talked to her tonight and she told me she bought an outfit (with Michelle's help) for her little sister. How great is that. I told her Lindsay could be coming this weekend, and Ella literally shrieked. "I am so excited!!" she says. God, that's a great feeling, and I know she's going to be a super big sister.
I took a few days off -- enjoying our final baby-less days and also getting creamed at work. Big web site launch this week, so I ended up working some over the weekend and at night. I don't mind the busyness, because I'm fortunate to be working at a place (and for a boss) who is so flexible and accommodating. I told her I needed to work from home today -- THE DAY OF THE WEB SITE LAUNCH -- and she said no problem. Wow. I've really landed at a great organization that is a good fit for me. My eight months in advertising purgatory were a worthwhile diversion for me to have this opportunity. Thank you Sharon Moran, the AAO recruiter who remembered me when this job came open. Best of luck to you back in Ireland, lassie!
Still haven't made the phone call to Bruce about the IRA account. To my credit, I have tackled a few of the undesirable chores, like talking to the credit card companies and dealing with the Boise fallout (hotel, tickets, airline, etc.). I might even make a few bucks on the NCAA tickets...perhaps enough to get myself an I-Pod? Hmm?
We had a nice Valentine's day this week -- quiet, with fresh roses, a home-cooked meal, sparkling (baby-friendly) cider and good conversation. The simple pleasures of talking to Nicola, lying next to her in bed, holding her hand as we walk around the block or sit on the couch...I never get tired of those, and they are a clue as to why the sacrifices to get to this point are worth it. I had this moment Saturday morning -- we woke up early, like 7 a.m. (early for a pre-baby weekend), and decided to go to breakfast. I threw on a t-shirt and my Carolina zip-up sweatshirt (prized Xmas gift) and a baseball hat, and I looked in the mirror in the bathroom, and, well, I was kind of glowing or something. I mean, I looked in my own eyes, and I looked so happy! A big smile (smirk?) on my face, a feeling of peace inside, a sparkle in the eye...things just felt perfect, and all I was doing was getting ready to go eat an omlette with my girl. I'm right where I'm supposed to be.
Other random thoughts for future days:
Being OK with not buying a house (no, really -- I'm OK renting)
me vs. ants and mystery bugs (Alameda is crawling with them)
final thoughts before Lindsay arrives
(I haven't felt too inspired lately -- I need to get into the habit of being more observational or contemplative or something. Or maybe just try to stick to the habit of writing each night...not get lazy about it.)
Well, on the one hand, no duh. The due date is either Feb. 19 or Feb. 21, so this weekend for the arrival -- that's a pretty safe bet. On the other hand, hearing him say that sure made my stomach due a somersault. Not quite as bad as Monday night, when I got off the phone and Nicola says "I've had a few contractions." That threw me for a loop -- you say you are ready, but when it starts, all the planning and thinking and everything goes right out the window. So Monday, when I thought it was starting...I was excited and anxious and emotional. And then it was nothing.
So I'll just plan for this weekend, and man, is Ella excited. I talked to her tonight and she told me she bought an outfit (with Michelle's help) for her little sister. How great is that. I told her Lindsay could be coming this weekend, and Ella literally shrieked. "I am so excited!!" she says. God, that's a great feeling, and I know she's going to be a super big sister.
I took a few days off -- enjoying our final baby-less days and also getting creamed at work. Big web site launch this week, so I ended up working some over the weekend and at night. I don't mind the busyness, because I'm fortunate to be working at a place (and for a boss) who is so flexible and accommodating. I told her I needed to work from home today -- THE DAY OF THE WEB SITE LAUNCH -- and she said no problem. Wow. I've really landed at a great organization that is a good fit for me. My eight months in advertising purgatory were a worthwhile diversion for me to have this opportunity. Thank you Sharon Moran, the AAO recruiter who remembered me when this job came open. Best of luck to you back in Ireland, lassie!
Still haven't made the phone call to Bruce about the IRA account. To my credit, I have tackled a few of the undesirable chores, like talking to the credit card companies and dealing with the Boise fallout (hotel, tickets, airline, etc.). I might even make a few bucks on the NCAA tickets...perhaps enough to get myself an I-Pod? Hmm?
We had a nice Valentine's day this week -- quiet, with fresh roses, a home-cooked meal, sparkling (baby-friendly) cider and good conversation. The simple pleasures of talking to Nicola, lying next to her in bed, holding her hand as we walk around the block or sit on the couch...I never get tired of those, and they are a clue as to why the sacrifices to get to this point are worth it. I had this moment Saturday morning -- we woke up early, like 7 a.m. (early for a pre-baby weekend), and decided to go to breakfast. I threw on a t-shirt and my Carolina zip-up sweatshirt (prized Xmas gift) and a baseball hat, and I looked in the mirror in the bathroom, and, well, I was kind of glowing or something. I mean, I looked in my own eyes, and I looked so happy! A big smile (smirk?) on my face, a feeling of peace inside, a sparkle in the eye...things just felt perfect, and all I was doing was getting ready to go eat an omlette with my girl. I'm right where I'm supposed to be.
Other random thoughts for future days:
Being OK with not buying a house (no, really -- I'm OK renting)
me vs. ants and mystery bugs (Alameda is crawling with them)
final thoughts before Lindsay arrives
(I haven't felt too inspired lately -- I need to get into the habit of being more observational or contemplative or something. Or maybe just try to stick to the habit of writing each night...not get lazy about it.)
Friday, February 11, 2005
The end or the beginning?
Nicola has been referring to this weekend as our "last" because a) the baby could come at any point and b) we don't have Ella. So our last childless, carefree, do as we please weekend! Perhaps...and I can certainly understand that viewpoint. Having been through this transition once before, I can easily recall the dramatic differences between pre- and post-baby life. We will no longer be able to just walk out the door, where the only thing we need to take care of is putting the bathroom trash can on the toilet so Bailey doesn't eat used kleenex. No, it's a bit more complicated than that, with baby, diaper bag, bottles, change of clothes, car seat, etc. Won't be going to any movies, spur of the moment. Won't be going out to eat quite so easily.
It's an end to a certain stage of our lives, and that's OK. I don't want to get too hung up on that, because to spend too much time mourning that stage as it drifts away is to devote too much energy to the past and what-once-was-and-will-never-be-again. (Will Smith supports me on this, or is it the other way around. See "Oprah" transcript, circa early Feb 2005.) What's behind was great, and what's ahead is an altogether different kind of great -- joy and love like you've never felt before, daily discoveries and moments of delight, nightly challenges that make you grow and mature.
So, off we go! And I'm ready for it -- I'm ready to make mature decisions that are best for me and my family, I'm ready to balance the demands of work and home and personal, I'm ready to still find time for me and for my relationship with Nicola while still giving all I can to Lindsay (?) and Ella. I'm just ready.
I don't know if I was ready five years ago when Ella was born. I was ready to be a dad in the sense that I was there for Michelle and Ella as much as I could be -- I wasn't off at the Villa every night after work, soaking my sorrows and my paycheck. I was (and still am) an active part of Ella's upbringing, pitching in on all tasks (I did my share of diapering and feedings and late night soothing). But was I emotionally ready? I wonder...being a parent is about more than being present, and I think I'm more mature now.
I feel like I'm writing in circles here. Hmm. So what I mean, I guess, is that I feel like I'm at the right place in my life at the right time. More mature -- I don't know what that really means. I'm comfortable and at peace and at ease in giving of myself to people besides myself. There was this time, when Ella was about six months old or so, that Gene and Dave (two of my best friends, old DC roommates) came to visit us in Portland. They came out to visit pretty much every summer, once I left DC in 1996. Every summer they'd come, and we'd regress into our old DC routines: lots of drinking, staying out late, playing golf. And that was great in the pre-Ella times, but in the summer of 2000, Ella was a baby, and here I was, staying out late and drinking and fairly easily shifting my priorities to my pals, instead of my home. Nothing terrible happened -- I didn't forget Ella was in the bathtub or anything as I played video games in the living room with my friends. That visit sticks in my head, I suppose, because I think it symbolizes that I wasn't fully grown up yet. There are certainly other examples of this...ones I won't go into.
And I'm not immune to these lapses now, either. Friday of the wedding weekend this July: I play golf with three of my best friends (Gene and Dave and Dave Glenn), and afterward, we play poker at the patio table for a while, when I should have been tackling a few wedding-related items around the house. But things feel different...I trust myself to make smart choices for myself and for my family.
This weekend is the end, and it is the beginning...of an incredible experience Nicola and I will share that will only bring us closer together and will allow us to share our love with a little person who is half me and half her. How fortunate we are to have had the before, and to have the after in front of us.
It's an end to a certain stage of our lives, and that's OK. I don't want to get too hung up on that, because to spend too much time mourning that stage as it drifts away is to devote too much energy to the past and what-once-was-and-will-never-be-again. (Will Smith supports me on this, or is it the other way around. See "Oprah" transcript, circa early Feb 2005.) What's behind was great, and what's ahead is an altogether different kind of great -- joy and love like you've never felt before, daily discoveries and moments of delight, nightly challenges that make you grow and mature.
So, off we go! And I'm ready for it -- I'm ready to make mature decisions that are best for me and my family, I'm ready to balance the demands of work and home and personal, I'm ready to still find time for me and for my relationship with Nicola while still giving all I can to Lindsay (?) and Ella. I'm just ready.
I don't know if I was ready five years ago when Ella was born. I was ready to be a dad in the sense that I was there for Michelle and Ella as much as I could be -- I wasn't off at the Villa every night after work, soaking my sorrows and my paycheck. I was (and still am) an active part of Ella's upbringing, pitching in on all tasks (I did my share of diapering and feedings and late night soothing). But was I emotionally ready? I wonder...being a parent is about more than being present, and I think I'm more mature now.
I feel like I'm writing in circles here. Hmm. So what I mean, I guess, is that I feel like I'm at the right place in my life at the right time. More mature -- I don't know what that really means. I'm comfortable and at peace and at ease in giving of myself to people besides myself. There was this time, when Ella was about six months old or so, that Gene and Dave (two of my best friends, old DC roommates) came to visit us in Portland. They came out to visit pretty much every summer, once I left DC in 1996. Every summer they'd come, and we'd regress into our old DC routines: lots of drinking, staying out late, playing golf. And that was great in the pre-Ella times, but in the summer of 2000, Ella was a baby, and here I was, staying out late and drinking and fairly easily shifting my priorities to my pals, instead of my home. Nothing terrible happened -- I didn't forget Ella was in the bathtub or anything as I played video games in the living room with my friends. That visit sticks in my head, I suppose, because I think it symbolizes that I wasn't fully grown up yet. There are certainly other examples of this...ones I won't go into.
And I'm not immune to these lapses now, either. Friday of the wedding weekend this July: I play golf with three of my best friends (Gene and Dave and Dave Glenn), and afterward, we play poker at the patio table for a while, when I should have been tackling a few wedding-related items around the house. But things feel different...I trust myself to make smart choices for myself and for my family.
This weekend is the end, and it is the beginning...of an incredible experience Nicola and I will share that will only bring us closer together and will allow us to share our love with a little person who is half me and half her. How fortunate we are to have had the before, and to have the after in front of us.
Wednesday, February 09, 2005
Thrown away
Tonight, I write in mini mourning over the Tar Heels' loss to the hated Duke Blue Devils tonight. And I write in the font Trebuchet, which is a french word I think for a large catapult, and that's how I feel -- like tossing the entire evening over a high wall in my memory and never encountering it again. Perhaps Jawad Williams and Rashad McCants feel the same way, after their disappearing act tonight.
My late-developing plans to meet with Eric and watch the game turned into a complete disaster, as MUNI's normally reliable #10 bus flaked out and left me standing idly on a corner as the game began, and then one of poor Eric's dogs was mauled and he had to go the vet ER and never made it back into town to watch the GODDAMN FRUSTRATING LOSS ANYWAY! So I drank a beer and ate a solid cheeseburger and watched the game alone...which I was planning to do at home anyway until I tried to get fancy. The lesson: keep it simple, especially in the days soon before/after having a baby.
I have moments of calm, where I say wise things to myself, like "Come on, you are 35 and about to have a baby and something silly like a basketball game should not cause such soul-sickening angst." But life is about taking sides, and I'm firmly on the side of all that is good and kind and fuzzy (UNC) and against all that is evil and smug and small-mouthed (Dook), so can't I be a little pissed? I've been on a nice streak this year, what with the Sox and the Pats (long-time devotion there -- no bandwagon jumper, me!). I managed the Santa Clara upset with equanimity, helped by Ella's 4-year-old advice: "Daddy, it's just a game." Tonight, when I told her on the phone that UNC lost, she said, "Maybe on your birthday next year we could go to another Tar Heels game and a nice present for you would be that they win." Well, yes, absolutely. That would be nice! But for tonight -- FUCK! Vengeance will come in about 2 and 1/2 weeks, when the Dookies will play in Chapel Hill. Gotta believe we're gonna pull that out...please?!?
My late-developing plans to meet with Eric and watch the game turned into a complete disaster, as MUNI's normally reliable #10 bus flaked out and left me standing idly on a corner as the game began, and then one of poor Eric's dogs was mauled and he had to go the vet ER and never made it back into town to watch the GODDAMN FRUSTRATING LOSS ANYWAY! So I drank a beer and ate a solid cheeseburger and watched the game alone...which I was planning to do at home anyway until I tried to get fancy. The lesson: keep it simple, especially in the days soon before/after having a baby.
I have moments of calm, where I say wise things to myself, like "Come on, you are 35 and about to have a baby and something silly like a basketball game should not cause such soul-sickening angst." But life is about taking sides, and I'm firmly on the side of all that is good and kind and fuzzy (UNC) and against all that is evil and smug and small-mouthed (Dook), so can't I be a little pissed? I've been on a nice streak this year, what with the Sox and the Pats (long-time devotion there -- no bandwagon jumper, me!). I managed the Santa Clara upset with equanimity, helped by Ella's 4-year-old advice: "Daddy, it's just a game." Tonight, when I told her on the phone that UNC lost, she said, "Maybe on your birthday next year we could go to another Tar Heels game and a nice present for you would be that they win." Well, yes, absolutely. That would be nice! But for tonight -- FUCK! Vengeance will come in about 2 and 1/2 weeks, when the Dookies will play in Chapel Hill. Gotta believe we're gonna pull that out...please?!?
The Game
I am fortunate to be a fan involved in some of sports' greatest rivalries (Red Sox/Yankees, and the burgeoning Patriots/Colts), and tonight, one of them takes center stage: UNC vs. Duke. The Heels are taking care of business this year, smoking teams they are supposed to smoke and sporting a stellar 19-2 record and #2 ranking as they travel to Cameron Indoor Stadium to meet the evil Dookies.
A few memories:
A few memories:
- I was at my girlfriend's apartment, listening to the game on the radio, when the Tar Heels upset #1 Dook, I think it was 1988 or 1989. I remember hearing that people were gathering on Franklin Street to celebrate -- I think it was the first time in my college years that happened.
- Senior year, 1991, Duke beat the Heels in my last game as a student at the Smith Center.
- Later, I become a sportswriter, and I covered both UNC and Duke home games. There is nothing quite like sitting courtside at Cameron, with the rabid and obnoxious Dook fans pressing against your chair and spilling drinks down your back and leaping over your head to storm the court.
- One UNC game, when the Heels came back to win, I was in press row, behind one of the baskets, and my ability to suppress my rooting instincts faltered briefly as I signalled a travel or something against Dook. Or was it a timeout? Memory fades, but those were cool days in any event: 22 years old, sitting in press row at ACC basketball games and NCAA Tournament games, doing what I loved and getting free hush puppies in the press room.
- I should have documented my time a little better, no? I covered the NBA for a year, for god's sake, and my memory of that is super sketchy. Two and a half hour drives each way to get paid $25 per game for covering the Charlotte Hornets. But I did get a free dinner!
I'll try to post tonight after the game. Go Heels...please win! I've been on such a nice streak -- Red Sox, Patriots, etc. And the first regular season Carolina game I had seen in 10 years was in November, on my 35th birthday, and Santa Clara upset North Carolina (which was missing Raymond Felton). That sucked. So let's shut up those Dookies and Coach K and his ill-deserved holier-than-thou attitude and JJ Redick's smug mug. It is so easy to work up the hatred!
Monday, February 07, 2005
The trap
Remember this feeling -- what it feels like to call the credit card company to seek some accommodation for a small portion of your mountain of debt, and to be told there's nothing they can do...in fact, they were kind enough to raise your interest rate recently due to the "whole picture"...meanwhile they increase your credit limit and send you checks so you can transfer more money to their card. I'm not sure who the bigger asshole is -- the company, for exacerbating the toilet bowl swirl of credit card debt, or me, for charging the cards up in the first place. From zero debt to a goddamn mountain in just 30 months!! Woohoo! Well done, laddy.
I've managed to make a real mess of it, but there's a bright spot to the misery...and it is the misery itself. The frustration and disgust and shake-your-head disappointment I feel in myself and where we are now are fueling some good changes. Yes, it's a mess, but it's our mess, and we've got our arms around the filthy beast and we're doing our best to wrestle it down, instead of just letting it roam around in our lives, shitting on everything. Not sure that extended analogy works, still -- we have assessed the situation, and we're taking steps to improve it, and fuck the credit card companies and fuck living beyond our means. We can do this, and I won't be neutered like this again by the money lenders.
I've managed to make a real mess of it, but there's a bright spot to the misery...and it is the misery itself. The frustration and disgust and shake-your-head disappointment I feel in myself and where we are now are fueling some good changes. Yes, it's a mess, but it's our mess, and we've got our arms around the filthy beast and we're doing our best to wrestle it down, instead of just letting it roam around in our lives, shitting on everything. Not sure that extended analogy works, still -- we have assessed the situation, and we're taking steps to improve it, and fuck the credit card companies and fuck living beyond our means. We can do this, and I won't be neutered like this again by the money lenders.
Blackout day
Had my first "stuck in the elevator during a blackout" experience today. Not much of a blackout or much of a dramatic story, really. Got on at the office around 7:50, power goes out and elevator stops, plunging the place into pitch black. I use my cell phone LCD as a flashlight and locate/hit the emergency call button. I'm assured help is on the way. A few minutes later, I hear some colleagues shouting down the elevator shaft that they're trying to find something to pry open the door. Someone suggest I open the door from the inside...which I do, and I find myself almost exactly on the second floor, maybe 12 inches too high. I stroll off, and there you go. Kind of disappointing, in terms of a finish. But...perhaps the story will grow in the telling and in the passing.
So I got to go home early, and Nicola and I just went to a movie. We are in the midst of baby preparations...actually, closer to the end of preparations. The finale could start at any moment, resulting in the inevitable "OH GOD! Life will never be the same" moments. "Going to a movie won't be too simple anymore!" etc. This anxiety drove us to see a solidly mediocre "The Wedding Date" with Debra Messing and Dermot Mulroney. Never knew a male prostitute could fall in love in 48 hours with a scrawny neurotic victim...who is empowered by the love of a man who lies/fucks for a living. Instead of "Fasten Seatbelts" signs, like airplanes, movie theaters should have "Suspend Your Disbelief" signs. I could use that reminder every once in a while.
Speaking of the baby: Lindsay Campbell Taggart is the strong frontrunner for the baby's name right now. An etiology:
So I got to go home early, and Nicola and I just went to a movie. We are in the midst of baby preparations...actually, closer to the end of preparations. The finale could start at any moment, resulting in the inevitable "OH GOD! Life will never be the same" moments. "Going to a movie won't be too simple anymore!" etc. This anxiety drove us to see a solidly mediocre "The Wedding Date" with Debra Messing and Dermot Mulroney. Never knew a male prostitute could fall in love in 48 hours with a scrawny neurotic victim...who is empowered by the love of a man who lies/fucks for a living. Instead of "Fasten Seatbelts" signs, like airplanes, movie theaters should have "Suspend Your Disbelief" signs. I could use that reminder every once in a while.
Speaking of the baby: Lindsay Campbell Taggart is the strong frontrunner for the baby's name right now. An etiology:
Lindsay: English in origin, meaning "linden trees near the water." That is not so poetic, but the name just sounds right to me. Baby names are like that -- you don't have to have really great reasons to like them or hate them, do you? When you are brainstorming names with your partner, you can shitcan plenty of names just because...without any good reason. "I just don't like it" or "Nah" is sufficient grounds to strike a name forever.
Campbell: don't know what it means or its origin, but it is a family name for both Nicola and I. On her side, it is her mother's maiden name. On my side, it is my father and grandfather's middle name and goes back to my great-grandfather, the original Donald Campbell Taggart. It is fraught with more negative baggage for me...well, it used to be. I have had my issues with my father, and my grandfather is no prize either -- this is the guy who spent 30 minutes trying to talk me into smuggling him vodka as he lay in a nursing home bed. But hey -- it's an homage to the family, it doesn't carry any weight beyond that.
Taggart: my family name, obviously. I think Taggart is part of the Ross clan, going back to Scotland. I could be confusing this with the McLean clan from my mother's side, but I'm not sure. Wait, just did the research, and found that "The surname Taggart/Mac Taggart is from "Mac an tSagairt " in (Irish) Gaelic, meaning "son of the priest" or "a priest." Want more? Turn to the Taggart genealogy site. Yes, it's part of the Ross clan, and so much more! Also the detective in "Beverly Hills Cop," the last name of one of the nurse characters on "ER" and the title of one of Louis L'Amour's pulpy westerns. And there apparently is a band named Taggart -- see http://www.taggartrocks.com. Oh, and a nearby liquor store (if memory serves); that is terribly fitting.
This all reminds me that I should contact the Forbes relatives to get down that family history, and I should contact Campbell and find out about his family history before it is too late. He's in poor health and almost always an ornery dude, but it is information that should be gathered, right?
Break time...duty calls. Nicola is in full nesting mode, which is kinda cool, actually. I mean, isn't organizing the pill boxes and lotions and potions in the linen closet terribly important right before a new baby arrives? I am not poking fun -- it is interesting to watch, and our place could use a little fine tuning, so no big deal.
Thursday, February 03, 2005
Baby steps
Wow, with where I am in my life, this title could apply to so much!
Too tired to write much tonight -- I procratinated and watched various tv shows tonight instead, including (shame!) the "Happy Days 30 Year Reunion." God, Donnie Most looks like hell, and Garry Marshall sure is annoying. Crazy how you watch old sitcoms you thought were so funny and you're shocked at how lame they are.
Baby steps: I called the Boise hotel. That's about it since last night...but it was a busy day!
Ella is with us, and we're all heading to the hospital on Saturday to see where Peanut will be born. When Ella was saying goodnight to Nicola tonight, she said: "Come here Peanut! Let me give you a kiss!" and she wrapped her arms around Nicola's tummy. Little Lindsay/Julia is going to very lucky to have such a loving big sister.
16 days and counting
Should I tell Michelle that she gets the tax deduction for Ella? She offered it to me. Hmm
MWBR!
Too tired to write much tonight -- I procratinated and watched various tv shows tonight instead, including (shame!) the "Happy Days 30 Year Reunion." God, Donnie Most looks like hell, and Garry Marshall sure is annoying. Crazy how you watch old sitcoms you thought were so funny and you're shocked at how lame they are.
Baby steps: I called the Boise hotel. That's about it since last night...but it was a busy day!
Ella is with us, and we're all heading to the hospital on Saturday to see where Peanut will be born. When Ella was saying goodnight to Nicola tonight, she said: "Come here Peanut! Let me give you a kiss!" and she wrapped her arms around Nicola's tummy. Little Lindsay/Julia is going to very lucky to have such a loving big sister.
16 days and counting
Should I tell Michelle that she gets the tax deduction for Ella? She offered it to me. Hmm
MWBR!
Wednesday, February 02, 2005
Why so sensitive?
I'm wondering lately why I'm so freakin' sensitive to conflict and why I can be made uncomfortable so easily. Examples -- I was in this meeting at work yesterday where there was obvious displeasure from the other folks about how the Web site project was going and how late in the game they were being informed of changes. My reaction was to clam up and put my head down and let Peggy handle it -- total conflict avoidance, as usual. And then tonight (and this happens frequently), I got really uncomfortable watching the poor schmoes on various TV shows make total fools of themselves. It's like watching figure skating or comedians -- the anticipation of the flop (figurative or literal) is almost painful for me.
Maybe these aren't exactly the same thing, but perhaps the root cause is -- not that I know what that cause is. Lack of confidence? Tendency to take conflict personally? Equating conflict with disapproval? Not being breastfed as a child? Over-developed inclination to please people...to the point of deception and untruth? That was my childhood pattern -- "Did you bend the hinges on that cabinet? Did you have an accident? Did you cross Route 30 after school? Where did you get that candy/hot wheels car/dirty magazine?" would be the question, and I would blatantly lie instead of fessing up. Not an uncommon childhood instinct, but looking back, I think I took it to pathological extremes at times. Perhaps that's why I went to talk to "Ron" on a weekly basis about my anger/communication issues and how to better express myself and stop wetting the bed. I just liked the Tang in those plastic Solo cups, inserted into a brown plastic faux coffee cup. I don't remember a single thing we talked about, let alone a breakthrough of any sort. I don't remember why I stopped going. I remember I would get a donut afterwards when I first started going, in Massachusetts. And I wonder if those pills to help my bladder control were really a placebo. I mean, is there such a pill?
If/when anyone reads this, I am likely to be mortified by some of these revelations, but who's going to read this anyway?
I avoid conflict of all sorts -- I don't even want to make several phone calls I must make because they are going to be hard or embarrassing or they have some unknowns attached.
Maybe these aren't exactly the same thing, but perhaps the root cause is -- not that I know what that cause is. Lack of confidence? Tendency to take conflict personally? Equating conflict with disapproval? Not being breastfed as a child? Over-developed inclination to please people...to the point of deception and untruth? That was my childhood pattern -- "Did you bend the hinges on that cabinet? Did you have an accident? Did you cross Route 30 after school? Where did you get that candy/hot wheels car/dirty magazine?" would be the question, and I would blatantly lie instead of fessing up. Not an uncommon childhood instinct, but looking back, I think I took it to pathological extremes at times. Perhaps that's why I went to talk to "Ron" on a weekly basis about my anger/communication issues and how to better express myself and stop wetting the bed. I just liked the Tang in those plastic Solo cups, inserted into a brown plastic faux coffee cup. I don't remember a single thing we talked about, let alone a breakthrough of any sort. I don't remember why I stopped going. I remember I would get a donut afterwards when I first started going, in Massachusetts. And I wonder if those pills to help my bladder control were really a placebo. I mean, is there such a pill?
If/when anyone reads this, I am likely to be mortified by some of these revelations, but who's going to read this anyway?
I avoid conflict of all sorts -- I don't even want to make several phone calls I must make because they are going to be hard or embarrassing or they have some unknowns attached.
- Call the credit card company and ask them to reduce the interest rates
- Call the hotel and Boise and transfer the rooms to Thad's name
- Call Southwest airlines and tell them I am not using my ticket
- Call the life insurance company to schedule a physical
- Call my ex-brother-in-law to tell him I'm moving my investments that he manages
Several of those are easy. The last one makes my heart flutter and makes me want to do anything -- cut the dog's toenails -- instead of making the call. I haven't talked to the guy in 3 years, since shortly before Michelle and I separated. I went from the godparent to his child to a stranger, just like that. Let's hope that "time heals all wounds" applies in some partial way. As much as I dread this particular call, I am not so afraid of conflict that I would take the route of total cowardice and simply send in the paperwork without a call. No -- got to be bigger than that.
If I'm going to continue to grow as a person, I've got to confront my fear of conflict and understand and deal with it. And I'll start...real soon.
Other news:
- 17 days to the due date
- We're down to Julia or Lindsay as the name. I'm on the fence. My childhood crush on the star of "The Bionic Woman" could tip the balance.
- We're visiting the hospital this weekend to check it out. Ella is going with us.
- Super Bowl this weekend -- go Pats!
- What the fuck happened to the heat bill, going up to $184? Time to start wearing much more wool around the house.
Best intentions
I sat down at the computer and everything last night, ready to write. Then the Internet connection gasped and wheezed and said "I'm sick fix me" but alas, I haven't figured it out yet. Hmm -- we have cable modem for nearly 2 years and no problems. We have DSL for 4 days and there's a sudden virus attack. Co-inky-dink? Perhaps not.
What I was going to write about was this moment I had yesterday, when I went outside around 3:30 p.m. to clear my head after a crappy meeting and a minor run-in with Nicola over finances. I was just generally grouchy and not feeling like talking about more ways we could rearrange our vast debt to try to make it better, and Peggy and I had just gotten semi-worked over in a meeting about the AAO Web site. ANYWAY...I went and bought a Coke and sat on a bench in the sunshine (68 F in San Francisco yesterday), looking out at the Bay. Ten feet behind me was the sidewalk where Michelle and I bought a San Francisco print on my first trip to the city in 1995 (I think that's when it was). In front of me was the cable car turnaround where I hung out with Nicola and other Psoriasis Foundation staffers on a chilly SF night, during some business trip (1998? 1999?). A few blocks back over my left shoulder was Pete and Sue's last apartment, and on the way there you'd go by Ghirardelli Square, where I've been with numerous people in numerous stages of my life. And the museum to my direct left, where I went to a wedding reception. Etc. etc.
The point -- I've come a long way, had some ups and downs, and all those experiences have led me to this instant in my life...simultaneously warming my scalp and cooling my angst while I stare at Alcatraz and the corner of the Golden Gate Bridge and listen to the homeless guy one bench over mutter in a deep voice about "country and western music," "Pepsi" and "blue collar workers." Sounds like there's a song in there somewhere. And this instant is great and cool and weird, because of how fortunate I feel and because of all the times I walked within blocks or mere feet of where I sat, never knowing I'd end up with this blessed life. (Wouldn't it be great if you had a "Family Circus"-style, dotted-line, "Billy goes out to get the mail and has these adventures on the way" diagram of your life's travels, down to street level?)
So, Self, let's remember this, when we are seething over some perceived office slight or overwhelmed by confronting fiscal burdens or just grumpy. Remember to be grateful and thankful for the experiences you've had, and hopeful for what's ahead. Take a deep breath. It's going to be OK, and who knows where the next 5 or 10 years will take you. Enjoy the ride, and look around as you go.
--------------------------------
By the way, happy belated birthday to Jess, one of the planet's nicest people. She's worth a post in and of herself.
What I was going to write about was this moment I had yesterday, when I went outside around 3:30 p.m. to clear my head after a crappy meeting and a minor run-in with Nicola over finances. I was just generally grouchy and not feeling like talking about more ways we could rearrange our vast debt to try to make it better, and Peggy and I had just gotten semi-worked over in a meeting about the AAO Web site. ANYWAY...I went and bought a Coke and sat on a bench in the sunshine (68 F in San Francisco yesterday), looking out at the Bay. Ten feet behind me was the sidewalk where Michelle and I bought a San Francisco print on my first trip to the city in 1995 (I think that's when it was). In front of me was the cable car turnaround where I hung out with Nicola and other Psoriasis Foundation staffers on a chilly SF night, during some business trip (1998? 1999?). A few blocks back over my left shoulder was Pete and Sue's last apartment, and on the way there you'd go by Ghirardelli Square, where I've been with numerous people in numerous stages of my life. And the museum to my direct left, where I went to a wedding reception. Etc. etc.
The point -- I've come a long way, had some ups and downs, and all those experiences have led me to this instant in my life...simultaneously warming my scalp and cooling my angst while I stare at Alcatraz and the corner of the Golden Gate Bridge and listen to the homeless guy one bench over mutter in a deep voice about "country and western music," "Pepsi" and "blue collar workers." Sounds like there's a song in there somewhere. And this instant is great and cool and weird, because of how fortunate I feel and because of all the times I walked within blocks or mere feet of where I sat, never knowing I'd end up with this blessed life. (Wouldn't it be great if you had a "Family Circus"-style, dotted-line, "Billy goes out to get the mail and has these adventures on the way" diagram of your life's travels, down to street level?)
So, Self, let's remember this, when we are seething over some perceived office slight or overwhelmed by confronting fiscal burdens or just grumpy. Remember to be grateful and thankful for the experiences you've had, and hopeful for what's ahead. Take a deep breath. It's going to be OK, and who knows where the next 5 or 10 years will take you. Enjoy the ride, and look around as you go.
--------------------------------
By the way, happy belated birthday to Jess, one of the planet's nicest people. She's worth a post in and of herself.
