A Month of Reflection and Looking Ahead

Earlier this month I celebrated my birthday, and it was wonderful. Emelia was wholly engaged in the celebration -- wanting to open the cards with me, singing me Happy Birthday, and looking forward to/enjoying the cake. Kathy made my favorite breakfast, huevos motuleños (fried eggs over tortilla, black beans and peas, covered with green salsa and goat cheese (Kathy uses feta)), and for dinner took me to one of my favorite restaurants (Nam Viet in Arlington). And my gift from Kathy and Emelia was a year's worth of massages, an extravagance that will probably do me a world of good but which I would never bestow upon myself. The day was completely low-key, and it was all I needed -- Kathy had trouble believing me when I said how much I enjoyed myself. The fact that several dozen people wished me happy birthday on facebook was surprisingly satisfying as well -- I like to think that it gave me a taste of what it might have been like to have had a birthday during the school year instead of the summer.

As the day of my birthday approached, I reflected on the fact that it had been a year since my mugging. Hard to believe that it's only been a year, as it seems much longer ago. It doesn't seem to affect me on a day-to-day basis (heck, days go by when I don't even think about it), though it's possible my troubles sleeping are influenced by that event. It's slipped in among my life events to become one of the multitude of things that have gone into defining who I am, never becoming a singular something that defines me.

Also this month I hit the halfway point for eligibility for full federal retirement. Amazingly enough, I can get full retirement in less than another 16 years. I'm not really one of those people who obsesses over my retirement eligibility, but I get a reminder of it every year in my statement of benefits, and as a numbers geek I'm more than capable of dividing by two. Before we had Emelia, I used to daydream about early retirement, and fully contemplated retiring no later than my first opportunity for that full pension, a worst-case scenario. Full retirement at the first opportunity, however, is less than one-third of my salary, and like everyone else's, my 401(k) took a big hit with the market crash. And now we have Emelia, and my eligibility for full retirement coincides with the time that Emelia would be about to start college -- I don't know that we'd be able to get Emelia all the way through college on a pensioners' income, though it'd be plenty easy to take that income and find a job I might like more. However I do it, I expect to work longer than I once contemplated, but I no longer mind it as much -- with the arrival of Emelia, my mindset has shifted from having to work to set me up for life, to having to work to provide for my family. I'd be lying if I said there isn't a bit of wistfulness, but it's a trade-off that I've made and would gladly make again.

And that statement provides the segue to something that's been on my mind every day of the month, and then some. Earlier this week we reached a big milestone, the end of the first trimester of Kathy's pregnancy. Yes, that's right -- something that took so much effort the first time happened without so much as a visit to the fertility clinic this time. Child #2, a.k.a., the Groundhog,* is due at the start of February. Kathy's been having a harder time this go around -- last time she was stressed by the absence of symptoms, worrying that was a bad thing; and this time she's complaining about those very symptoms. I guess there's no pleasing some people. We had wanted to keep the news completely quiet during the first trimester, but figured we had to tell my family during the week at the beach given Kathy's symptoms (and the inability to provide any other reason why she would reject all of Josh's delectable alcoholic offerings). So then in the name of equality, we had to tell Kathy's family. And although the story's been slowly leaking out, we've kept things mostly quiet, and I suspect that many of you are hearing about it for the first time. Now that we're making that news public, I can talk about it on the blog -- it's been tough to offer posts on the blog given that I couldn't discuss that particular elephant in the room of my mind (said elephant currently weighs less than an ounce), but I'm hoping to write more frequently again.

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* - Note that the use of the nickname The Groundhog is not meant to suggest that we would name a boy child Phil.

10 Years and Counting

On May 16th, Kathy and I celebrated our 10th anniversary. My folks came up to take care of Emelia, so Kathy and I could take our first vacation sans child in the 2.5 years since she was born. In fact, it was Kathy's first night away from Emelia since she was born. Kathy was anxious enough about leaving Emelia that she insisted on going somewhere nearby, so we went to Rehoboth Beach, Delaware, less than three hours from here. We had both been there briefly -- Kathy's uncle and aunt have a home there, and in December 1998 they hosted a small family engagement party for us. But I think we only stayed one evening, and I don't even remember seeing the ocean on that trip.

This time we stayed at a hotel one block from the ocean, and constantly walked down to the beach. It was too cold to swim (or even to stand in the surf for very long), but it was great to walk on the beach, especially Thursday afternoon and Friday morning, before the weekend visitors filled the place up. Among other activities, we saw our first movie together since Emelia was born, watching the new Star Trek, which we both enjoyed quite a bit. And three nights in a row of eating out alone at nice restaurants was a treasured experience. But whether it was these activities or others, the main thing we did was spend unhurried time in each other's company, something that doesn't happen much around a toddler, no matter how much we enjoy being with her (and believe me, we do).

While we were in Delaware, Emelia had a wonderful time back home. The folks kept us informed on how things were going, which helped keep Kathy relaxed and enjoying herself. We very much appreciated their coming up to take care of Emelia -- it was the best anniversary present we could ask for. That they enjoyed having that much time with Emelia (and vice-versa) makes it that much better.

In terms of what being married for ten years means to me, I think it's incredible that I could find someone who is so right for me. Incredible to think that 12 years ago I didn't even know this person whom I would marry, and grow to love more as each year passes. Incredible to think that if our love keeps growing as it has been, my love for Kathy will be so much greater in a decade than it is now. Simply put, my marriage to Kathy has been and continues to be incredible.

A Long Overdue Experience

Kathy and I have been together for over ten years (married over nine), and never in that time had we gone camping together. About six years ago we even bought a tent, having the best of intentions. About three years ago, we made tentative plans to go camping with friends, but it didn't happen. Tom and Anna have asked us a few times to join them, and we never had. Finally this past weekend, we went camping with a group of beer-loving folk in the general area.

Initially we had planned to bring the dogs with us, but given all that we'd be bringing, we decided there really wasn't space for them in the car, so we reluctantly decided to leave them home (the fact that we're bringing them on a one-week vacation starting this upcoming weekend made it an easier decision to make).

We shared a site with our friends Margie and Chris, two veteran campers who drove up from around Raleigh to hang with us for the weekend. They tended to the fire, but otherwise I think we carried our weight at the site. We didn't need them to help set up our tent or anything, and in fact we pretty much took care of our stuff just fine. We didn't do anything too adventurous with the food, but hey -- it was our first time. At least we got a better sense of what would work and what wouldn't.

Emelia had a good time even though she was the only kid there. She enjoyed a nature show on owls (when the ranger asked what she was holding, before the ranger called on one of the kids with their hands up, Emelia called out, "Owl"), and we had to caution her not to go up to the multitude of deer at the campground. Many of the adults we were with were happy to engage Emelia in conversation, and she was delighted with all the attention. Our one hike with her was when we were leaving today -- we learned about a 1.6-mile hike that would take us to a great mountain view. Good thing we sought a short hike, because Emelia wasn't interested in walking any. Kathy carried Emelia on her back for about 2/3 of the way, and I carried her all but about 50 feet of the rest of the way. Getting Emelia to walk even that far was a rather arduous process, largely because she was overtired.

For the weekend, she slept way less than she normally does, and we spent too much time trying to get her to sleep. She finally went down around 11pm on Friday night, compared with her roughly 7:15 bedtime at home (tonight she was asleep before 7 given how tired she is). Between all the stimulation, the altogether new environment, and being asked to sleep in a tent for the first time, I suppose it's no surprise she had trouble. Saturday she fell asleep for her nap while being carried on Kathy's back, but even then it was only for about an hour (compared with 2+ at home). That night she got to sleep at around 9pm, after screaming herself beyond exhaustion. The people across from us (not in our group) said we reminded them of themselves twenty years earlier when their kids would do the same thing. They learned to let the kids stay up while camping, that they'd eventually exhaust themselves and in the meantime, the adults shouldn't ruin their time worrying about the kids getting enough sleep. I think it's advice we might follow next time.

And yes, I said next time -- both Kathy and I enjoyed ourselves enough that we'd like to go camping again, even regularly. I'm not sure we'll reach "regularly," but I feel confident that the next time will be sooner than ten years from now.

* * * * *

Before I end this post, I just wanted to comment on the obvious, that the birth of Emelia has made travel quite a bit more complicated. There are so many things that go into planning and prepping a trip with a small child that aren't an issue when the travelers are self-sufficient adults. Despite this change, my trip planning essentially hasn't changed a bit -- I take care of myself, and leave Kathy with having to take care of Emelia as well as herself. Part of this is due to the fact that Kathy is home with Emelia on Thursday and Friday, when most trip prep happens, but it's also because I'm lazy about this aspect of parenting. Kathy occasionally grumbles about this (justifiably), but generally does it graciously, and always does it splendidly. So I wanted to take this corner of this blogpost to publicly acknowledge all she does to make travel great. The fact that she's mostly a homebody who'd just as soon hang out at home for leisure, while I'm the one who would travel more if time and money allowed it, makes what she does all the more wonderful. This is just one more reason why I consider myself a very lucky man. Thank you Kathy.

"Your Kid is a Freak"

Not counting when we've had someone watch her so we could go to a wedding or Bar Mitzvah, I think last night was the fourth time Kathy and I have left Emelia with someone and gone out, just the two of us. Like the other three times, last night involved nothing more adventuresome than going to dinner and then returning. Oddly enough, each time has involved someone different watching her, and this time it was our friend Bryce's turn. Bryce loves kids, and she has none of her own. She keeps threatening to teach Emelia all the things we'd never want her to learn, which, given that both Kathy and I are oldest children who were ridiculously conformist growing up, is probably a good thing.

We went to Georgetown, a part of town we almost never frequent, as it's filled with tourists, college students, shops, bars, traffic jams, and it's a good walk from the nearest Metro. There are some good restaurants there, however, and we decided to try a seafood place several people had recommended. It was a bit noisier than we might have wanted, but we could still hear each other fine. The food was great and we ate far too much, but the service enabled us to dine in a leisurely manner, something we do all too infrequently these days. Our conversation over dinner was substantive, serious even, but refreshing all the same. Far too often these days we find ourselves reacting to circumstances, causing friction with and defensiveness from the other. Last night had none of that, and maybe that's what made it so enjoyable. Most evenings after Emelia goes to sleep, Kathy and I have a couple of hours to ourselves to talk about anything, but we rarely do. It seems strange that we have to go out to do what we could do any other night, but given that in the evenings we feel more in need of down time than serious conversation, maybe it isn't so strange after all.

We got home a little over three hours after we left (the longest of our four dinners out). The first words from Bryce when she saw us were, "Your kid is a freak!" Long pause. "In a good way." Bryce explained how after we left, E didn't get all upset. Then Bryce read to E, they played together, and E had a little bit of food. Then E said, "Night night," and Bryce followed Kathy's directions by preparing a bottle, then reading her a story as E drank the bottle. When E finished the bottle, Bryce stood up with her, said "Night night I love you," and put Emelia down. Emelia went right to sleep. In her experience with children (that includes nannying and lots of babysitting), bedtime was something kids avoided, not asked for, and she'd never had a kid that didn't fuss at least a little bit. Of course, Emelia fusses a little bit some evenings (and frequently for naps), but what Bryce experienced isn't uncommon for us (in fact, I'm writing some of this while E's napping -- she said "night night" at 8:15am, and was in bed shortly thereafter without a fuss).

At the same time, we hadn't thought much of it, simply because we don't have anyone to compare Emelia with -- we don't have any other children, or a great deal of experience with small children. In some ways, not thinking about Emelia as compared to other kids is the norm for us -- we haven't done a lot of reading about stages or expected experiences, so we take everything as "normal." I mean, we think she's amazing, but I generally chalk that up to being her parent. As far as our interactions with her, we don't hold a lot of preconceived notions about how she should be -- as long as she seems to be growing and developing, we don't sweat the details. Whether that's bad or good, I can't honestly say, but it does create these moments when someone on "the outside" finds something remarkable in what for us is the ordinary.

"I'm a Freak?"

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.

Announcing a New Blog

People who know Kathy and me know that Kathy is the quiet one (not that I'm necessarily loud). She won't answer the phone if she can help it, and my family doesn't always feel like they know what she's thinking. Well no longer! Today Kathy officially joins the ranks of the blogosphere, so now everyone will be able to read her thoughts on lots of things, at least those related to being a parent. Whether she maintains her four-posts-in-a-day output remains to be seen, but I for one hope she continues writing in some capacity. And while I encourage everyone to check her blog out, don't abandon me -- neither of us has so much to say that there isn't time to read us both. I've added her to my blogroll, but I didn't put her first -- not because she isn't number one in my heart, but because I don't want to put needless pressure on her (and because it won't be so embarrassing if she decides to stop writing in a couple of days).

When are we going back?

In a time before we knew of RateBeer and before there was mapquest, there was Coop's, a set of maps that purported to include the addresses of all the breweries in a particular region. And when we embarked on a two-week Northern California brewery tour in the Fall of 2000, there certainly were more than enough breweries to keep us tipsy, or worse. The only trick was figuring out where each one was without a streetmap. At each brewery I took notes on each beer, for the first time in my life, never realizing that someday I'd enter all of them into a giant web database. You had let your driver's license lapse, so I had to do all the driving (grumble grumble).

Was it only six years ago that we waited in a state park outside of Boonville for a brewery tour, and sat in Sierra Nevada's beer garden in Chico? Walked among the redwoods and along the coast, saw El Capitan and the potheads on the town square in Arcata? To pass the time on the long drives in those days before digital jukeboxes, we played word games, sang songs to each other, and argued whether religion had done more good or bad in the world. In the Russian River Valley, famous for its wineries, I offered to take you to them rather than the area's breweries -- you've always loved wine, and this was a golden opportunity. You replied, "No, we're here to drink beer." Always we visited breweries. Some of them are long gone, others have beers I had just the other day.

I saw your grandfather for the only time in my life on that trip, pushing 90 years old and riding his motorized scooter, living by himself because he didn't want to be dependent on others. We stayed with all three of your father's siblings, including the teetotaler and her husband, who were more than a little bemused by one of the functions of our travels. We had bought little gifts along the way, but didn't fully consider the recipients -- she assured herself that the preserves made with beer must have had all the alcohol burned off. We were awed by the simple beauty of your uncle's timber-frame house, where he and his wife had retired just half an hour from Yosemite. He had been to Fresno just before we arrived, and had bought a growler so we could try something from their local brewery.

There was a newness to those adventures. It was our first big vacation after our honeymoon, and we learned as much about each other as we probably had in the six months prior. And from those two weeks, our friendship bloomed ever more colorfully, and our love deepened to a level far beyond where it was at our wedding one-and-a-half years earlier, even if it was but a fraction of where it has gone since.

potd

If it rained every day,

Languorous weather all the time,
Our love would be as sunshine,
Voluminous strands of light
Encircling us in the gloom.

You work wonders on me,
Offering a fresh spring
Undiluted by the rainwater.

In Praise of Culinary Genius

I can cook, and when I do, I do a decent job of it. Still, cooking isn't something I have a particular passion for. Kathy, however, likes to cook, so she's the one who usually does it (leaving me to handle clean up). She'll occasionally trot out a new recipe after we've had it when eating out (e.g., Vietnamese vegetarian spring rolls), but for the most part, she cooks variants on the usual. I have no complaints with this, as it's tasty stuff, which is why it's the usual stuff.

Last night Kathy must have felt particularly inspired, and made what I guess should be described as Pork Masala, a Indian dish using a meat you'd never find at an Indian restaurant. Aside from being delicious, and the pork being incredibly tender, what amazed me most was that she didn't follow a recipe, even though she'd never made a masala before. She knew what it tasted like, and spiced accordingly -- tomato sauce, vegetable broth, onions, garlic, clove, cilantro, cumin, chili powder, curry, ginger, and so forth. You'd never guess that she wasn't meticulously following a recipe from an Indian cookbook. Actually, you might, because it tasted better than it would were she someone who was dependent on closely following a recipe for the first time.

Kathy doesn't think it's a big deal, and doesn't know why I'm making a fuss about it. I, however, feel I'm simply ackowledging a particular kind of genius. I can make something based on how I think flavors will work together, grabbing spices here and there and making something that ultimately tastes good. Kathy's ability to concoct a meal based on her having tried it, and thereby identifying the spices and how they should work together, is something wholly beyond me. That I am the beneficiary of such talent makes my appreciation all the greater.

Reaction

Kathy starts crying. I go over to her, and she starts to explain, to apologize for crying yet again over the same thing. I let her rest her head on my shoulder, I grab a tissue and dab her cheeks. And I listen.

After a little while I begin smiling, and soon enough I'm beaming. At first I'm glad she isn't looking at me, but soon enough I tell her the truth, that I have an unshakeable confidence that everything is going to be ok. That she'll get through this, and that we'll get through this.

I finally see the light at the end of this long dark tunnel.

It's All in How You Ask

Kathy walks upstairs and heads for the futon where she's reading her book. As she takes her position there I smile at her, and she asks, "What?"
"Just looking at you, admiring your cleavage." The angle from the desk looking downward at her lying on her stomach and propped on her elbows provides a lovely view.
She smiles back.
I grab my camera -- "Maybe I should take a picture."
"Uh uh!"
"But it would just be for personal use."
"No."
"Well, would you rather I masturbate to you and your cleavage, or to some random chick I find on the internet?"
She quickly moves to give me a better angle for a photo.

Thoughts on Flight #1 out of Dulles

You know I'm not generally afraid on planes, even of dying. But last night, during some fairly mild turbulence, suddenly I was terrified. Not over the possible consequences to me, but over the possibility that I wouldn't ever see you again -- you not being there at the end, and me not having the opportunity to say goodbye. I mean, we said goodbye when you dropped me off at the airport, but as I contemplated the possibility of death, however slim, it felt like our farewells were perfunctory. At least it felt like mine was, relative to what I'd want to say if I had any inkling that it could be the final farewell.

I love you with every fiber of my being. Indeed, over time, I know our love has grown deeper, and keeps evolving, to depths I wouldn't have thought possible on our wedding day. So it hurts me to think I'm capable of taking you for granted in any way, even when it's just taking for granted that you'll always be there. I am only consoled by the fact that it's human nature. Regardless, I of course did survive, and my brief thoughts on death last night reset my complacency meter back to zero. Be assured that my greeting at Dulles tomorrow night will reflect that.

Kathy's Birthday Picture

Kathy in Full Birthday Regalia

Celebrating Cinco de Mayo

In Mexico, Cinco de Mayo isn't really a holiday. In the U.S., it's treated as an excuse to drink. I've never been one to need an excuse to drink, but tonight I succumb to the norm, at least tangentially. You won't find me at a Mexican place sucking down Negra Modelos (and certainly not Coronas), however, because to the extent I'm drinking, it'll be at a fish place, and as for what I'll be celebrating, it'll be the occasion of my beloved's birthday. Happy Birthday Kathy!

As it happens, this Cinco de Mayo is also turning out to be Stuff-Your-Face Thursday, as a morning staff meeting provided croissants, and an afternoon going away party provided a ton of chips, salsa, guacamole, and chocolate. This of course is on top of tonight's oversized portions, which will have to include dessert.

Black Sweater 23

To give you perspective on how many sweaters Kathy has had, several years ago we gave a tour of our house to some friends. After seeing the piles of Kathy's sweaters in both our walk-through closet and the closets in the loft, one of the friends told us that after the tour, she dreamed that later we continued the house tour in our basement, and there she found shelves upon shelves of additional sweaters.

To her credit, Kathy is largely reformed as a sweateraholic. She has given away a number of her sweaters, and now rarely buys them. There are occasions such as this past Saturday, however, when I am reminded of her tendencies in this regard.

While getting ready to go to Delaware, Kathy was going through her black sweaters, and was upset that the sweater she wanted to wear was not there. Note that I did not say "going through her sweaters," but "going through her black sweaters." Upon seeing her distress, I had to count how many black sweaters she actually owns. The true number may never be revealed, but there were 22 black sweaters in that assemblage, plus the one she was seeking (which she eventually did find). Perhaps there is reason to have three black sweaters -- one can button, one can be crew neck, and one can be V-neck. Almost certainly there is a gender gap, and if so women can rush to her defense in explaining that there are other styles of which I am woefully ignorant, and no wardrobe can be complete with these other styles. But can anyone truly need 23 different black sweaters?

Coincidentally, today's Sherman's Lagoon seems right on point, especially after I made slight modifications:


(click here to see the original)