Happy Father's Day

If you know how I feel about Valentine's Day, you won't be surprised to hear that for me Father's Day, even my first one, is nothing special -- so far anyhow, the fact that I'm a father is special every day. But to any fathers out there for whom Father's Day is special, particularly my own Dad, I wish you a wonderful one.

Internet Deaths also come in Threes

The Internet has connected me to hundreds of people I'd never know otherwise. Sometimes I know these people almost like they're kin. Other times I read them from afar, reading their thoughts without reciprocating. Sometimes they're causal acquaintances, occasionally business associates, but regardless, a connection is established. And when that connection is cut, I still feel it.

About a week ago, I heard that one of the people with whom I play online boggle died of cancer. I'd met Mark about three years ago at a gathering in DC of some of the people on the site. He'd come up from Florida, and his sister had come down from New York City. He seemed a genuinely nice guy, somewhere in his mid-to-late 50s, but I didn't know him well. I'd just see him online regularly, and we'd play Boggle. Occasionally bits of news would come up in the chat that takes place while waiting for a game to start, but that was the extent of our communications.

Shortly after that, I learned that Steve Gilliard died after an extended illness. I'd stumbled across Steve's former site by accident, following a link, or perhaps by clicking on "Next Blog" at the top of the page. He was an unrepentant liberal whose tone was acerbic interlaced with humor, and his style was direct. I frequently read the stories that he either wrote or commented on. I didn't always agree with him, but his blog was always worth reading -- it needed to be, since that was how he made his living. The subject matter he wrote or posted about seemed limitless, and strayed from politics to include food, pop culture, sports, and all things New York. I posted a couple of comments, but I never corresponded with him. I didn't even know what he looked like until a picture of him went up on his site In Memoriam. Still, his posts gave us a glimpse into who he was, just as I hope mine do for me.

And on Wednesday I learned that someone that I'd worked with but never met had died the day before. Elizabeth worked for a government agency in Hawaii, and we needed to e-mail frequently concerning a protracted case I'm working on. She had been battling cancer for quite a while, and my co-worker and I learned of her illness only because of the resulting delays to our case. I don't know how old she was, but in my mind's eye I pictured her to be about 40. She was a scientist who'd just finished up returning to school to become a lawyer. She was quite helpful, and very willing to work with us in pursuit of a reasonable result.

None of these people were close to me, and I don't really expect to miss any of them. There are many other people I've met online who have become much closer acquaintances, and some of these have become genuine friends. Still, I feel sadness about the deaths of each of them, all of them too early in life. Maybe it's pathetic, a sign of how fortunate I've been, i.e., the relative good health of my real-life friends and family means I'm seeking out surrogate grief on behalf these people I hardly even knew. Personally, I think it's just a sign of how connected the world has become.

Letters for Scooter Libby

When Scooter Libby's sentence was handed down, the judge also made public the letters he had received in response to his invitation for people to comment on the sentencing. I’ve been skimming them, and have been struck by the consistency of what I’ve read. The letters were from (1) professional colleagues and associates; (2) personal friends and acquaintances; and (3) people with no direct ties to Libby.

As near as I can tell, everyone in category 1 & 2 has nothing but glowing things to tell of Libby, and asked the court for leniency. The people in these categories include several famous names (e.g., Kissinger, Rumsfeld, Wolfowitz, and Deborah Tannen (who’s his next door neighbor)), and the support also came from a number of people who stated that they disagreed with him politically. Even though I’m not sympathetic to Libby, I became impressed with Libby by what I learned in some of these letters -- the personal anecdotes describing both the numerous good things he had done and the caring he exhibited in all facets of his life suggest that Libby has been a wonderful person. "His actions were never about what he could get out of it personally. . . they were about how he could help others." Many of the letters expressed shock that he could have done what he was convicted of doing -- "I cannot state strongly enough that Scooter's conviction is completely inconsistent with his character. First, . . . Scooter is extremely honest. I never knew him to lie, exaggerate or bend the truth, NEVER."

On the other side of the ledger, everyone in category 3 (about 10% of the letters) asked the judge to sentence Libby to the maximum (or to deviate upward) based on the seriousness of the crime.

Libby argued that his sentence shouldn't have included jail time. I recognize the argument that even without jail time, Libby will suffer a great deal -- with this conviction, his legal career is at an end. Nevertheless, obstructing justice and perjury are serious crimes. Someone who obstructs justice prevents justice from being carried out, and protects people who should be prosecuted. If the penalty is a fine, then you create an incentive for those who have committed crimes to in essence buy their way out of having to face the consequences of their illegal activities. Without real consequences, there’s little reason to testify truthfully. The investigation here was into the outing of a covert CIA agent, and there's a significant possibility that in addition to the loss of the intelligence network she worked with, people who were part of that network may have been killed as a result. It's probable that we won't ever know the full effects of the outing. Nevertheless, despite the potentially serious consequences, Libby has shown no remorse for his obstruction into this investigation.

Ultimately, I agree with John E. Rogers, a former Assistant United States Attorney, who said in his letter --

I urge you to impose a sentence in this case appropriate to the crimes committed by this defendant, taking into consideration his betrayal of his high position and his country, his superior knowledge as a lawyer and a former partner in a major law firm as to exactly what he was doing, and his continuing unrepentant conduct. Whether he is kind to his dog, a good neighbor, or anything else is, of course, irrelevant to what he did and continues to do.

Cruising with Emelia

Just one month ago, I enjoyed seeing Emelia standing with support for the first time. In the brief time since, Emelia has become proficient at pulling herself up, and has started moving from support piece to support piece. In other words, she's cruising. Her mobility is a wonder to behold, and it triggers serious maternal (and a little paternal) concern that we need to babyproof our house. We've in many ways operated in a style of parenting that could be called, to borrow a phrase, "benign neglect." On this matter, such an approach probably isn't a good idea, even though I tease Kathy that not babyproofing is consistent with Darwinism.
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Yesterday I sat feeding Emelia, who lay on the Boppy, which was on my lap. Emelia only took a little from the bottle, and decided she didn't want any more. I put the bottle down. She started to squirm in my lap, quickly shifting her weight to the edge of the Boppy, and looked down. I knew what was coming next, and let it happen, all the while continuing my conversation with Kathy, who was seated partway across the room. Kathy covered up her eyes in terror as Emelia went headfirst downward toward the floor. Of course she never got there, my grip firmly keeping her in place about a foot off the ground. I really didn't think anything of it -- I knew what E was doing, I knew what I'd need to do, and when it was time, I did it. I had no intention of tormenting Kathy, but of course that's what I ended up doing. Lesson learned.
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In my last update of Emelia, I forgot to mention another VERY important milestone -- she's sleeping through the night. It started the first week with Avery (the nanny). In hindsight I think it may be because Avery feeds her more than we do (cue major tangent). From the beginning, all the milk we provided for Emelia when she's with Avery has been consumed, as is some supplemental formula, along with most of the solids. Emelia's beginning to get a bit of a belly with all the food she's been getting. Kathy asked what should have been obvious a while ago on Wednesday, i.e., is Emelia feeding herself (as she does at home, and as we asked Avery to do) or is Avery feeding her. The answer is the latter. Needless to say, Avery is much more efficient at getting food into Emelia than Emelia is, so that she's not just eating some more with Avery, but a lot more. Avery explained that it's difficult to let Emelia feed herself without a high chair.

I'm bothered by the feeding thing. While we prefer that Emelia feed herself, that isn't what bothers me. Rather, it's that we asked Avery to do something, and she didn't. The way I see it, she had two choices -- either do what we asked, or tell us that she had a problem with doing what we asked. We're perfectly willing to listen when there's a problem with carrying out a request, such as the absence of the high chair. If we know that the absence of a high chair is an issue, we can either provide one or endorse Avery's desire to feed Emelia. We don't have a long list of things we want Avery to do -- generally, we leave it up to her how best to take care of Emelia. But where we have expressed a preference, I think that we should be the ones who make the final decision, not Avery.

The Summer Has Begun

I realized this evening that this week marks the beginning of at least nine weeks where I won't be working more than four days in a week --
Week of:
May 28 -- Memorial Day, off Monday
June 4 -- Wedding in Boston, off Friday
June 11 -- Jury Duty, out of office Monday thru ?
June 18 -- RateBeer Summer Gathering in Minneapolis, off Friday
June 25 -- RateBeer Summer Gathering in Minneapolis, off Monday
July 2 -- 4th of July, off Wednesday
July 9 -- Family Vacation in Maine starts, off Friday
July 16 -- Family Vacation continued, off all week
July 23 -- Family Vacation ends, off Monday

And given that it's two months off, there's still plenty of time to plan something for the week of July 30. ;)

Update from a Slacker

Not writing for a few days that turns into a week that becomes over three weeks leaves lots of things to tell, which makes it hard to know where to begin, and what to leave out. Emelia is crawling, is pulling herself up, eats solid food, screeches far too much, and has two bottom teeth that are plainly visible but that she never shows. She doesn't like going to bed, and often she pulls herself up to standing position in the crib and cries for us to get her. She hasn't mastered how to sit down, so at least once we've heard a thump followed by genuine screams. It begs the question of how one babyproofs a crib. The nanny is working out well -- Emelia seems very happy when we pick her up at day's end.

Work isn't as bad as I remember from before my paternity leave (which is not to say that it's good). I figure it's either because the time away served to refresh me, or the emphasis on the family helped to adjust my perspective.

May 5 was Kathy's birthday, and for the weekend around it Kathy's mom and two aunts visited. On the birthday itself, we, along with various parts of the families of three of Kathy's first cousins, went to a restaurant that's owned and run by one of the cousins. Emelia was introduced to asparagus soup, which she absolutely loved.

And we had an altogether great time, which makes me wonder why we almost never get together with these cousins despite the fact that they all live in Silver Spring, less than 30 minutes from us. I mean, I sort of know why -- Kathy isn't good at keeping in touch with people, then gets embarrassed about not keeping in touch, so she decides that she shouldn't keep in touch. Sort of.

The following weekend was Kathy's first Mothers Day. We didn't do anything amazing -- instead we met up with Shizuka (also celebrating her first Mothers Day), Eric, Kaz, and Mac (someone who went to college with Kathy and Shizuka and who was in town on business). We walked along the Mall, and enjoyed a beautiful day. Kaz and Emelia are starting to interact, but there's still not that much of it.





For a week I resumed my sporadic jogging. Two days in a row I got up early, walked to Lincoln Park, and did four laps around the park, which I estimate to be a little more than 1.5 miles. I took a day off, then went three more days in a row, the last one pushing for the fifth lap. It's not the most exciting thing to jog in circles, but it was good because I don't have to cross streets, which lets me leave my glasses at home (my vision's not wretched enough to prevent me from functioning without them in such situations, but I'd never drive or read without them). What made me stop was soreness in the joints where my feet and legs come together. It could be from jogging on bricks, as those aren't the best running surface, but whatever the cause was, I stopped nearly two weeks ago, so any increase in stamina or physical condition has long since ebbed to nothing.

May 16 was Kathy's and my 8th anniversary. Kathy ordered sushi in -- yum!!

On Thursday I got a call from Kathy, quite panicky, that Nora had bitten Emelia. (For those of you who don't know, Nora is an over sized Shih Tzu, making her all of about 18 pounds.) Emelia ended up with quite a cut just below her eye, but she's fine -- she'd be perfectly content to play with Nora again, if we'd let her. Nora has never been fully comfortable around children, with their hands that poke and grab fur. At the same time, she recognizes Emelia is part of the pack. So Nora dances between keeping her distance and getting close, especially now that Emelia is eating (and dropping) solids. We can't have Nora biting Emelia, but we also know there's no viciousness -- she just didn't like Emelia's reaching at her. We're not sure whether there's a solution, other than that if it happens again, Nora will likely end up moving to a new home, either to Kathy's parents or to Tom & Anna's.

I think that brings things near up-to-date with our lives. With luck I won't let that much time go by before my next post.

The Transition

Wednesday was the best of times, and the worst of times. I might have had the most wonderful day yet with Emelia -- she was so interactive, and stayed in good spirits most of the day. She hit a couple of milestones as well -- in the morning, she was able to stand using her activity table for support, rather than be supported by a person; and in the afternoon she sat up on her own for the first time (as opposed to sitting when someone puts her in the proper position). I felt as close to her that day as I ever have.

When evening came, and I put her to bed, I was in tears, realizing that my paternity leave was over, and that we wouldn't have another opportunity to be alone together. I understand that we will, but it'll be a day here and there rather than the block we've had, and which made it so great. When I started paternity leave, I saw it as an opportunity to bond with my daughter, but also to avoid a workplace where I'm not very happy, to provide Kathy with the opportunity to figure out the sort of work schedule she wanted, and to keep both Kathy's and my incomes flowing for a little longer before she might reduce her hours. On Wednesday evening, all I cared about was the bond with Emelia -- none of the other reasons mattered in the slightest.

Thursday was a difficult day -- Kathy and Emelia walked me to the Metro, but that didn't make things easier. I was back at work full-time, and all I wanted to do was be home with Emelia. I think I whined about that to two dozen people in the office. When I got home Emelia was already in bed, which saddened me even more. Fortunately she woke up a little later, which meant I got to see her before I headed out to the DC United game that evening. Her smile lit me up, as it always does, but this time it did even more for me. It pointed out the obvious, that I'll still see her every day, and that doing so will still be special.

Somehow Friday it didn't hurt as much.

Good News/Bad News

Last night Emelia slept eight hours straight, easily her longest stretch at one time. Unfortunately, her night of sleep began at 5:30pm.

Eastern Market

Weren't you there when the carousel burned down
The fire and confusion, the smoke and the sound
I swear you were there when the carousel burned down
We were all around
The rings charred and tarnished all over the ground
And the heads hung down
And we all left town the next day

-- Todd Rundgren, The Night The Carousel Burnt Down

On days that I walk to work, I pass the main building of the Library of Congress, the U.S. Capitol, House Office Buildings, the Botanical Gardens, the Museum of the American Indian, the Air and Space Museum, and the Smithsonian Castle. The first landmark on my journey, however, is Eastern Market -- housed in an historic building and operating continuously since 1873, it's part of my neighborhood and it's the only market left in town. While the other sites on my walk are attractions for everyone, few tourists know of Eastern Market. They don't wait in line on a warm Saturday morning to get a stack of blues (blueberry pancakes) at Market Lunch, get great cheeses from the curmudgeonly cheese monger, or attend the outdoor weekend markets filled with arts and crafts. Off the top of my head, I count eight pictures we've bought at Eastern Market that hang in our house.

My first date with Kathy started at Eastern Market -- it was my first visit to Eastern Market, even though I had moved to Capitol Hill about a month earlier. I'm not sure I knew it was much more than a Metro stop the five years I lived in the Virginia suburbs, but now it's the center of my community.

In the wee hours of this morning the South Hall, which houses the food merchants, was badly damaged by fire (fortunately, no one was hurt). I felt compelled to see the horror for myself this morning, and here are the pictures I took (and here are some photos by the Washington Post). The mayor and other city officials and representatives have already promised to rebuild, and to find alternate places for the merchants whose shops were lost in the meantime.

Still a Work in Progress...

...but I wanted to share something that's mostly done, namely, the front of the house getting painted.

Here's a taste of what our house has looked like since we moved in (the one with the cherry tree in front of it, not the one with the flag) --


We'd been talking about painting the house for several years, but never had gotten around to it until this year. This was partly due to laziness, partly due to expense, and largely due to not knowing what color we wanted to paint it. The fact that neither of us were home during the day also played a role in it.

The work started almost a month ago, but with the bad weather, we'd been stuck with just the primer on it for a couple of weeks. Color started showing up this past Friday, and today they got most of the visible details finished (though most of the wrought iron still needs painting, as does the trim around the door). Now it looks like this --