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July 31, 2008

Let There Be Light.

Could I be happier? No, I don't think I could be.

Posted on July 31, 2008 6:16 PM | link to this entry | Comments (4)

July 30, 2008

Windows, Day One

This is what happens when you hire professionals to work on your house: shit gets done right. We are HAPPY.

Posted on July 30, 2008 3:55 PM | link to this entry | Comments (2)

July 29, 2008

Dear Quartet of Navel Oranges.

Yeah, I know, the comparisons are getting weird. What can I say, these are the jokes, kid.

It's been a while since we've talked, and I apologize for that. I haven't felt much like writing lately, and I don't know why that is. It's been a hectic couple of weeks, and the rest of the coming month is more of the same. We're padding out the social calendar now while we have some time, knowing that we will be beholden to your stomach for the months following your arrival. It's good, too—lots of people to catch up with, things to do. I've been working my tail off trying to complete a bunch of work that's all due right around your birthday ahead of schedule so I'm not making client calls in the delivery room.

Your checkup was today, and they measured you out at five pounds, which is a full pound above average. This also moves your expected delivery date ahead two weeks (the computer offered an emotionless prediction of 9/11, which would be Very Much Not Cool) which is what I've been saying all along. I'm cool with the 78th percentile, but your mother and I would rather you seek to excel in the intelligence tests and not on the sizing charts. Your mother has been eating less food with more frequency these days, which means you're definitely making yourself comfortable in there, sitting directly on her bladder. We had to hit the Target up for two king-sized pillows so that she could try to get some decent sleep again. She would really like it if you could hold it down while she closes her eyes—we understand that hiccups are beyond your control, but quit the breakdancing lessons until you're walking, OK?

Meanwhile, we took last Friday afternoon off to go witness a quiet marriage ceremony and enjoy the afternoon on a patio in Ellicott City with friends and cold drinks.

Sunday we drove down to the Eastern Shore to visit with some other friends who have bought a beautiful house in Easton (and who are trying to get your parents to move out there with them). I don't have pictures of that, because I was too busy laughing and enjoying myself, but I did snap some shots of this Land Rover for sale on the side of Rt. 50. It's a little too expensive for us, but we will have one someday, I swear to you.

Leaving that parking lot, Jen spied this interesting, uh, display, and thought it deserved a picture. I've always thought it was "Deer Corn", but what do I know?

Finally, good news: our windows arrived yesterday afternoon, which means we can get the porch rolling again!

Posted on July 29, 2008 4:50 PM | link to this entry

July 23, 2008

PowerShot Woes.

Apparently the Canon point-and-shoot we own, the PowerShot SD110, has a known issue with the CCD going bad and distorting images. According to the service notice, they will replace the CCD, but I don't know if this offer is still good. I'm going to call tomorrow to find out.

Update: They believe the problem is theirs to fix (but aren't sure yet). They have sent me a prepaid UPS label and an address to their repair facility so that I can send it in. For a four-year-old camera clearly out of warranty, I am truly impressed by their customer service. This is the kind of thing that keeps me loyal to the brand.

Posted on July 23, 2008 9:05 PM | link to this entry | Comments (0)

Eureka! BOOM.

Update from the local Panera: After being chased from the house by an electricity-killing thunderstorm, I have finally, FINALLY cracked a DHTML tab panel problem I've been banging my head against for the last week, which feels like the weight of the world has been lifted from my shoulders. Essentially, the script I'd started with was using the visibility attribute of CSS instead of the display attribute, and in concert with some poorly-advised absolute positioning, the whole thing was appearing outside the document flow (floating above everything else instead of pushing the content downward gracefully). After trying and discarding about ten different scripts, I came back to my old reliable one and finally made it work. Hallelujah.

Posted on July 23, 2008 4:17 PM | link to this entry | Comments (0)

July 22, 2008

Summer Showers.

Somehow, we made it back from New York State yesterday, our jeep stuffed to the gills with new baby gear. Intermittent thunderstorms didn't dampen the beautiful baby shower my mother held for us on the front porch of the house, and we were overwhelmed by the generosity of our family, who brought thoughtful gifts and sage advice. Thank you, everyone.

The rest of the weekend was spent relaxing on the porch, eating too much cake, and visiting with my mother's brother, who I haven't seen in years (and who hadn't met Jen yet). As always, the weekend was too short, and we had to head home to the heat.

Posted on July 22, 2008 9:36 AM | link to this entry | Comments (0)

July 17, 2008

Test Result.

Sage, it turns out, has small-cell carcinoma, another way of saying "lung cancer". They give him 3 to 6 months.

Posted on July 17, 2008 11:25 AM | link to this entry | Comments (0)

July 16, 2008

Quickly...

Sage is back from a hellish hospital visit. His belly got shaved again, and he spent the majority of last evening dragging himself around the atrium in an opiate-induced haze. The doctor still can't give us a clear determination between cancer or a very bad infection, but in the meantime he gets to eat whatever the hell he wants in the hopes it'll put some meat back on his bones.

There is drywall on the porch as of last night. The guy I'm using flaked on us twice but finally showed up on Monday to start the job; I'm not altogether pleased with the initial results but I'm hoping his skill with a drywall float will cover up the major blemishes.

We're getting ready for a trip north to see my folks and present The Belly to the extended family this weekend. Showers will be attended, parties will be held, pictures will be taken, and laughter will be heard. In the meantime, I'm doing everything I can to get a bunch of work out the door before we leave.

We have made it through ¾ of a dish of cherry clafoutis and ½ of a blueberry pie since Monday; there is still about 4 lbs. of blueberries and cherries left over, waiting to be canned. Blueberry pie is delicious for breakfast, by the way.

Also: I'm fooling with TypeKey authentication for comments on this site, seeing as I'm getting slammed with dumb spam for russian pr0n and offshore gambling sites. If you have any problems with signing up, let me know via email and I'll either fix it or disable the whole thing. (If you've got a TypePad account, I'm pretty sure you have a TypeKey account too).

Update: Nevermind. The TypeKey documentation was too hard to find in under 5 minutes, and I don't have 5 minutes right now. Back to moderated comments.

Posted on July 16, 2008 10:37 AM | link to this entry | Comments (0)

July 14, 2008

Dear Butternut Squash.

I've told you about our family car situation before, so it's no surprise I've got alternate forms of transportation on my mind these days. Your mother and I got some test driving in this weekend due to a last-minute cancellation, and I'm pleased to report we've got a contender.

The test drive process is pretty interesting. I kind of figured the salesguy would ride along and yammer in our ears, but they just made a copy of our license, handed us a key, and pointed us at a $16,000 toy. We checked out the Fit first, and it was a hard act to follow. They gave us a red one, which was pretty spiffy, and we both took turns wringing it out (or, as much as one can wring out a 1.5 liter engine) on I-70. When compared to the Jeep, and even the Saturn, it's not as powerful a ride, but it still has zip. The interior is completely misleading—it looks like it would be tiny from the outside but it's cavernous inside. The controls are easy to use, and the wheel, steering, and brakes are all tight as a drum. And when the salesman showed us how the big half of the rear seat folds down to a flat cargo deck (without touching the smaller half, where you'd be strapped in), I was sold. Strollers, christmas presents, livestock, shipping containers—I could fit anything in there.

The Civic sedan was less than impressive. The interior felt alternately cramped in some places and huge in other places, and the wheel felt like it belonged on a go-kart. They could only give us an automatic for a test drive, so we didn't get to feel out the engine, but everything about the car was adequate enough. Quibbles: the speedometer is placed waaaaay up on the front of the dash and the tach is right under the steering wheel. The seats were comfortable and the controls were pretty easy to use. Overall, for the money, I'm not as impressed as I should have been.

Finally, we tried out a Matrix up at the Toyota dealer. They're already showing the 2009 models, which have been redesigned into ugly streamlined blobs, and again all we could get was an automatic to play with. The inside of the car is uglier than the outside. It feels like the dashboard was shoved up under the windshield by a snowplow, and the gearshift sits almost vertical on the center console like an old Alfa Romeo. The gauges are clear, but when I pushed the seat back to get my legs comfortable with the pedals I felt like I had to lean way forward to touch the wheel. The rest of the cabin is functional but uncomfortable. The car itself has more power than the Fit, but gets lousier gas mileage. The back seat feels smaller than the Fit, and the rear deck isn't as spacious. Overall, it's just not as well-designed inside, and the base model is $4K more than a tricked-out Fit. Sorry, Toyota.

In other news, your mother took us on a Sunday field trip: there's a pretty pick-your-own farm out west of here with rows and rows of ripe blueberries, raspberries, and cherries she's been dying to visit for years. We got an early start out of the house and were in the fields, bag in hand, by 10:30, and after an hour or so had collected over 5 lbs. of delicious ripe blueberries. A half hour later, we were standing under cherry trees bending under the weight of the fruit on their boughs. I noticed an interesting phenomena out there too: we picked alongside families with everything from bundled newborns to bored teenagers, and after a few initial minutes of inaction or complaint, everyone seemed to get in on the fun together, which made me look forward to the day we can take you picking with us.

Posted on July 14, 2008 4:04 PM | link to this entry | Comments (1)

July 11, 2008

Ooooooooooooh, Barracuda.

There's a guy near here who has a '67 Barracuda with a 10-foot paint job (it looks great from 10 feet away or more) that I finally stopped to shoot pictures of. It was parked in such a way that good shots were hard to get, but I did my best for you, esteemed readers.

Posted on July 11, 2008 5:01 PM | link to this entry | Comments (4)

July 10, 2008

Put On Your Best Face.

My Dad beat me to the idea, but my intention was to post this for my sister today:

Happy birthday, sis. We love you.

Posted on July 10, 2008 5:02 PM | link to this entry | Comments (0)

July 9, 2008

Dear Chinese Cabbage.

Good afternoon, little one. Our pregnancy bulletin says you're reaching about 2¼ pounds, which doesn't sound like much, but I'm sure your mother would love to disagree. You've already had your first case of hiccups and you're blinking now, which is pretty amazing, really. The doctor is happy with your progress, and your little heart sounded great yesterday!

With all the planning going on around the baby showers, we've been doing a lot of explaining our decision to keep your gender a mystery until your birth. To be fair, we've gotten about an 80% approval rating from those people who've asked, and those are usually very supportive—which makes up for the 20% or so who have given us puzzled looks and even responses verging on hostility. I suppose it makes the process of buying gifts for you marginally harder, but hell, I'm a guy, I've purchased for baby showers before, and I've never had a problem finding something for a child of unspecified gender. They act as if we're keeping this secret just to make their visit to Babies 'R' Us that much more difficult. (This reaction also seems to parallel a particular response to the idea of natural delivery: Birth is treated like a nose job). It's not that we want to inconvenience anyone, really.

Maybe it's the society we live in nowadays, where CNN shows us news from all over the world as it happens, the Internet is a repository of knowledge undreamed of ten short years ago, and medical procedures are broadcast on cable TV. People expect information immediately: What is this thing growing on my arm? Who is Jennifer Anniston dating today? What's GM's stock price right now? With three clicks on my phone, I can answer most of these questions and send you to WebMD to die of hypochondria overload. But do we need to know all this stuff? Just because they can tell us what you are doesn't mean we want to know.

In the meantime, we've heard several of the wives' tales about predicting the gender, which I'll share with you here. Perhaps when you're old enough we can all sit down over coffee, read this, and laugh.

The Chinese Birth Calendar.
Recommended to us by our accountant, who swore by its accuracy. We sat in her office before going over our financial records and looked up the table (pleasure before pain), which claimed we would have a boy. Jen did some looking online when we got home, and found other calendars, all of which claimed different results.
Net result: 50/50 odds.

Baby's Position (where Mother is carrying).
Apparently, if the baby is way up high (directly under the chest), this means it will be a girl. When the baby is low, it's a boy. Problem: How do we know what "high" is? Jen has been told it's when the boobs are resting on the belly. I don't think this is the case with you, although I think you're riding high, personally—I've seen some women carrying kids down around their knees. Yee-ouch.
Net result: 50/50 odds.

Genetics.
Science says that the male carries the determining genetics for gender. Looking back through my family, we're averaging about one girl for every three boys (save my Uncle Brian, who dents the curve with his output), and that carries through to my grandparents, where the ratio is slightly wider (1:4). My wife's family is skewed the opposite way, and with twins to boot.
Net result: Boy.

Needle Reading.
I've heard of this, but we haven't tried it. There are all kinds of variations on how to do this, some simply dangling a threaded needle over the wrist, belly, or wedding ring, and some sound like complicated forms of the Macarena. Whatever the case, an unscientific poll says that circles equal girls and lines equal boys. I'm going to leave it up the the pros at our family shower in a few weeks.
Net result: Undetermined.

Drano Method.
Apparently a few ounces of mother's morning urine added to a jar of two tablespoons of crystal Drano will produce a chemical reaction (no duh) which will predict the gender: dark color==boy, light or no color==girl. This sounds like a method pioneered by poor Appalachian plumbers.
Net result: Gross. No way.

Baby's Heart Rate.
This theory states that a heart rate above 140bpm means girl and below means boy. But Jen's found places that say it's the other way around. Again, with the myths it's hard to get the straight dope. For the record, you're averaging about 155.
Net result: 50/50 odds.

Morning Sickness.
The common wisdom says that if Mother had bad morning sickness in the first trimester, she will be having a girl. Your great-grandmother had terrible morning sickness, and she gave birth to your grandfather, so go figure. As for you, I'll put it like this: For all your mother had to deal with during her first three months, you'd better be a Nobel-winning kung-fu champion movie star. No pressure.
Net result: Girl.

Baby Activity.
If the baby is very active, this means boy. But again, what is "very active?" Is it 24-hour frat party active, or 5-hour kegger? Is it drum lesson active or Zeppelin concert active? Your mother says you've been very active.
Net result: Boy.

Craving Salt.
If the mother craves salt, this means boy. But your mother had these cravings long before you were born, and there have been no plans to install a salt lick in the living room. I'd say her intake has stayed the same, although her craving for sugar has increased dramatically in the last few months. What does that mean?
Net result: Undetermined.

Cold Feet.
Supposedly, cold feet are the mark of the male gender. During the first trimester, your mother was cold all the time, but we live in a drafty old house. Now that July has rolled around, she's been hotter than a two-dollar pistol.
Net result: Undetermined.

So what does all this mean? It means we have a new and interesting use for Drano, and we're no closer to knowing what you'll be than we were before. That's alright, though—boy or girl, we're taking you to kung-fu lessons and music classes, and I think you'll be just as happy with jungle animals as you would with flowers or race cars. We love surprises, and you'll be the best one of all.

Posted on July 9, 2008 2:40 PM | link to this entry | Comments (2)

July 8, 2008

Random Bits, July Edition.

I've officially given up on attempting to drywall the entire porch myself, after getting the first six sheets hung last week before the parade. It will be easier and cheaper in the long run to hire out a pro, and so the nice fellow who did the ceiling in the living room will be back on Friday to finish out the work I started—as well as taping and mudding the whole thing. For an exceptionally reasonable price. Score. However, this means I need to hump thirteen sheets of drywall to the house before Friday afternoon.

Somehow, in the last two weeks, the short amount of time between now and the package delivery has filled up with stuff—good stuff, to be sure, but damn, man. I think we have more on our dance card in July than we had for the last six months of last year.

For the three or so people who use the Atom RSS feed to follow this here site, I fixed the problem with it so that it's actually updating again. Sorry about that.

Still no resolution on the videocam issue; I'm reading all kinds of reviews about the Flip product line, which basically boils down to: ±$100 instant-on, five-button, no-nonsense video recorder which captures the important moments in a child's life instantly, vs. ±$500 bulky, button-tastic über-recorder shooting HD quality. The archivist in me likes the idea of high quality, but the pragmatist knows that having a cigarette pack that turns on in two seconds for baby's-first-whatever will be priceless. I think I'm leaning towards value and convenience, honestly.

This is the first year we have run an A/C unit in the downstairs portion of the house, and by golly, it's nice. I haven't seen the latest electrical bill yet, but the ability to walk through 3/4 of the house and not seriously consider climbing into the refrigerator to cool off will be worth the extra cost. Addendum: I saw an ad for this Fujitsu system in the latest This Old House. I like the idea of not having to run ductwork from here to Cleveland, and I'd love to hide the compressor(s) out back somewhere.

Can I just say how freakin' much I'm digging on the Venture Brothers? The Adult Swim website has streaming copies of the last several episodes available (however, they don't have previous seasons, the bastards) and I've been on that like a cheap suit. I totally dug the old Johnny Quest cartoons as a kid, and this is an updated version of that series with a definite twist. Santa? Put the DVD collections on my list this year.

Posted on July 8, 2008 11:16 PM | link to this entry | Comments (0)

July 7, 2008

Changing Perspective.

Spending WAY too muh time at lunch reading, I came across this article about changing perspective.

I wish I knew more about the psychology behind this, but my guess is that we as humans are visually stimulated by novel points of view. If it’s something we’ve seen before, well, it’s just not as visually stimulating as a photo taken that we’ve not ever been able to see with our own eyes.

I know I am fascinated with alternative viewpoints, from macro shots, forced degradation, timelapse to 3-D, I've tried it all with varying degrees of success. Point-and-shoot has its place, but I'm interested in trying out stuff like kite photography.

This has me thinking about an idea I'd hatched a year or two ago: buying a painting pole, rigging a mount at the top, and setting a camera on it with either a remote shutter release or on an intervalometer, for things like the parade.

Especially considering the number of similar shots I've taken at the parade over the years— often of the same subject.

It also got me to thinking about my next Nikon lens, a 12-24mm wide-angle. Of course, it's $900, but a guy can dream, right?

Update 8.14: Photojojo just did an article on this, with some helpful advice on tracking down parts.

Posted on July 7, 2008 2:36 PM | link to this entry | Comments (0)

July 4, 2008

Dear Cauliflower.

Hi, little one. This past week was a busy one, so this note is late, but I think you understand. Wednesday morning we met with a very friendly doula at a Starbucks up in White Marsh. A doula is sort of like a coach for both your mother and I. She's had several children herself, and she's helped a bunch of other mothers with their deliveries, so she knows what to do during the different stages of labor. I don't know about your mother, but I got a great feeling from this woman almost immediately after shaking her hand. We chatted for an hour and a half, and by the end of the meeting we were both sold. Which means that, barring a scheduling catastrophe or freak September blizzard, she will be one of the first people you meet on the day of the Big Move. She is very familiar with the hospital we'll be at and she gave the OBs in your mother's practice glowing praise, something that very nearly made your mother cry with relief. Also, the combined batting average of the doula and our doctors means the chances are exceptionally good you will be coming out the front door and not through the window.

All that noise you heard on Friday? That would have been the Catonsville parade, right out in front of our house. All the swearing you heard the previous Monday? That was your father's reaction to the people who staked out their spot on our lawn with a tarp and five rusty paint cans. Other houses get neat rows of plastic furniture, and we get the crap from the back of somebody's garage. I'm over it now, though.

Thinking about it for a little while, I smile when I think that you will spend your first couple of years in a house where you will expect this yearly phenomena just like you will expect a cake for your birthday. I wonder if we'll move out in time for us to have to explain to you no, not everyone gets a parade in their front yard, and daddy's yelling at that man because he's trying to kill our grass.

Every year we spend the week before the parade getting ready, and it never seems like we actually are. This year we had some friends come early and help us with some critical tasks which made things run a lot smoother. The parade itself was great. We got the usual state senators, representatives, judges, sheriffs and pageant winners, but no Governor. We did, however, get the Wienermobile! There was a lot of Jeebus this year, too—the tambourine people were back, and the puppets, but the Krishnas didn't make an appearance. The Boumis came out in full force, and there were a whole dealership's worth of Corvettes, along with a gaggle of pretty older cars. And some ugly ones too.

It rained off and on all day, so I would have bet your college fund there would be no fireworks that evening, but they decided to shoot them off anyway. Not that we were in any condition to walk down to see them; instead, we sat our asses on the couch and slowly fell asleep.

Saturday we were all still wiped out, so we did what most other Americans do on holiday weekends: we shopped for furniture and antiques at our favorite haunts, then took in Wall-E at a nice climate controlled movie theater. You will surely like Wall-E when you're old enough to watch it; I'd say it's one of the best Pixar movies in a long while (Toy Story and The Incredibles being my favorites). But we'll get to that in a few years—no hurry. Mommy and Daddy can't afford all those DVDs right now anyway.

Posted on July 4, 2008 12:13 AM | link to this entry | Comments (3)

July 2, 2008

IT IS ALIVE.

Between client meetings this afternoon, I got an email this afternoon from Mr. Scout, asking me would I like to stop over this evening for the inaugural first crank of the engine? I don't think a squad of Marines could have kept me from seeing that sight, so I threw my cameras in the Jeep and hauled ass over there.

It's gotten further along since the last time I saw it, and the first thing I noticed was the engine block painted with a fresh coat of International Harvester red. There's a new Holley carburetor and a set of shiny new exhaust pipes hung from the frame to go with a MASSIVE new distributor, stainless steel brake lines, and huge new gas tank. It is, in effect, everything I wanted to do when I owned her.

Five minutes after I got there, the engine roared to life. It sounded fantastic, too—clean, smooth, and even. They let it run for about a minute before shutting down (the radiator isn't attached yet) and we retreated to the yard until the exhaust dissipated. At this point, they're done with the mechanicals, and it's time to get the tub onto the frame.

Posted on July 2, 2008 11:14 PM | link to this entry | Comments (0)

July 1, 2008

Lone Star.

Ever since I've known my wife, I've been content to be the number two man in her life. Her first love, her true love, is a 76-year-old Texan with a white whisker, bad breath, an the sweetest disposition of anyone I've ever met. His name is Sage, and we were told this evening that he has advanced-stage cancer, spreading from his chest into his lungs. We looked at the X-rays of his long, lean body stretched across the film, the doctor pointing out the masses here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, and here, and each tap of her finger made my throat get tighter. This isn't fair. The tough little bastard beat diabetes, for Christ's sake. That bitch cancer took one good cat away, and now she's come for another.

He spent the night at the cat hospital down the road, where an internist is going to perform an ultrasound this morning to confirm and isolate each of the masses. Hopefully then he can perform a biopsy and tell us exactly what Sage is dealing with.

Posted on July 1, 2008 8:51 AM | link to this entry | Comments (2)